Nigeria Lesson Plan

WAR AND THE ANIMAL

A story of one man's experience during the beginning of the Biafran War

by Dave DenHartog

What role does ethnicity play during times of violent conflict?

To gain personal insight into the horrors of war and the importance of ethnicity.

Standard 3: Analyzing the spatial organization of people, places, and environments in a spatial context.
Standard 4: The physical and human characteristics of places.
Standard 6: Culture and experience influence people’s perceptions of places and regions.
Standard 10: The characteristics, distribution, and complexity of Earth’s cultural mosaics.
Standard 12: The processes, patterns, and functions of human settlement.
Standard 13: How the forces of cooperation and conflict among people influence the division and control Earth’s surface.
Standard 17: How to apply geography to interpret the past.
Standard 18: How to apply geography to interpret the present and plan for the future.

Bodily/Kinesthetic
Visual/Spatial
Interpersonal
Intrapersonal
VerbalI Linguistic

Access to the Internet

*Note - This lesson is best done using access to multiple online computers but can be done without.

Ethnicity
Coup d‘etat
Mayhem
Pogrom
Ruthless
Academian

ACTIVITY: This lesson is designed to take 90 minutes.

1. Define all the key terms
2. Analyze on a world map where Nigeria is located
3. Look at a map of Nigeria

4. Read the following information found on the web and answer the questions found below. On the web: Ethnicity in Nigeria

Questions

1. Why would the lgbo not be considered a tribe?
2. How does the author of this article define ethnicity?
3. Why is ethnicity so important to the people of Nigeria?
4. What might be the advantages and disadvantages of having so many different ethnic groups in one country?
5. In what part of the country are the Igbo mostly located?

5. Next read the historical overview on Biafra and answer the questions found below.

Questions

1. What factors lead to the Biafran War?
2. Where did the name Biafra come from?
3. When did the Biafran War take place?
4. What groups of people were opposing each other?
5. How many people died in this conflict?

You might also need to use the following web site:

BIAFRA: Photo Essay

6. Read the following true story, told by Dr. Stanley Okafor Imagine yourself in Stanley’s shoes and feel the stress you would be under. Imagine not only the feelings but also the directions from which turmoil is hurling toward you. And finally, imagine how you would have or will react in a similar, situation.
7. After reading the story complete the following tasks.

1. Describe and explain the feelings that you get from reading this story.
2. Draw a map of the city of Asaba and approximate where you think Stanley’s home would be.
3. In what ways, both good and bad, did the Niger River come into play during this story.
4. Come up with at least two examples from world history, or current history where ethnic battles have been fought.
5. Pick a partner and reenact a part of this story. This reenactment should last about a minute

Examine the current events of Nigeria and relate them to the story.

Nigerian news

Knowing that teachers have different scoring methods I will give you the percentages that have worked best for me.

Part l - 30%
Part II---30%
Part III — 40%

EXTENSION

The lesson "Siege Mentality: Conflicts throughout history" coincides with this lesson and works as a good compliment

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I would personally like to thank Dr. Stanley Okafor for sharing his story and making this lesson a reality.

-Mr. David DenHartog

Dave DenHartog

Whizzst! Scchhmash! Kaboom! The language of war that I heard whizzing toward my home, coming at my family, threatening my life.

We were crouched, hidden in the eastern corner of our home as the mortar shells rained from the west. The Federals were attacking Asaba, my home city, trying to reach the Niger Bridge and the Biafrans.

With my arms around my younger brothers and sisters, my mother and father’s presence surrounded us with a halo of protection. We would not die, our house would not be hit, we were invincible.

The year was 1967 and the summer was hot, in many ways. The previous year had seen a coup de‘etat and counter coup in Nigeria. My native homeland was steamy with political mayhem, a power struggle that inevitably grew more violent. While working hard in my first year at the University of Ibadan the turmoil in the country was fiercely debated among academians and academia wannabes, like myself

The northerner, led by the Hausas, were abusing their power. The easterners, many of them Igbos, felt threatened and betrayed. The westerners, dominated by Yorubas, endured the competing tensions with apprehension.

Sparks were plentiful as the fires of power were fed by accusation, overthrow, and assassination. Pogroms of extermination had begun. Igbos, by the thousands, were being tortured and killed.

When my father, an Igbo Nigerian civil servant, heard that the Federal troops were moving in on Benin City and were looking for Igbos he decided to flee. Driving his Peugeot 404 through the horrendous Nigerian back roads he was to finally arrive home worn and soiled but alive.

The news that a civil war had begun, pitting the Federal Nigerian troops against the breakaway easterners left my family torn. My father, the consummate optimist, did not want to see violence. He had served his country faithfully promoting unity, yet his and my brothers had been massacred and pushed to accept the killings or fight to survive. And fight they did!

As the flurry of mortar shells subsided temporarily and under the guard of my parents we closed our eyes and surrendered to the comforts of sleep. The temporary reprieve was shattered by the sounds of many people, SOLDIERS, walking through the streets by my house. There was yelling and directing as the officers rounded up every "able-bodied" person to walk down to the police station

Looking at my father’s confident yet leery face I did not feel fear but rather relief that the mortar shells had stopped. With masses of people thrown into the streets and heading toward the station I soon became separated from my family. It would be the last time I would see my father alive.

Being in a war and hearing gun shots and explosions did not prepare me for the horrors of death that I soon saw, heard, and smelled. As we walked, rather stumbled to the station I saw two headless corpses lying near the road, one still a lantern in his hand. Why?

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat. The smell of gunfire. The stench of murder. Another human, another leader, another Igbo was ruthlessly mowed down. Crammed like cattle at a sale, we all wondered who was next.

Finally, around 4:30 p.m. they let us all go. Many of those corralled at the station were led to the western edge of town to try to "make peace" with the military leaders. For most their peace would be eternal. I headed home choosing to avoid all military officials if possible.

My father had seen an officer that he personally knew at the station. I learned that the officer took my father home and was entertained. Driving the officer back to the station, my father was shot and thrown from his car. My mother found the lifeless body about two kilometers from our home. As she returned to her children, without her emotional and spiritual partner, I became transformed from sibling to protectorate.

The next few days felt like years. We did not venture out of our homes much as the Federals tried to cross the Niger and into Onitsha. Their frustrations were mounting and this brought on a flurry of violence against the locals.

As we peered out our window one afternoon we saw soldiers forcing a couple of the neighbor men to carry dead corpses to the river. When they would return another would be shot and again they were forced to dispose of the body.

This particular soldier carrying out this methodical killing spree burst into our home. Throwing his Star beer to the side he surveyed our home, my small brother and sister in my arms, my mother and grandmother trembling with nervous apprehension, my older sister begging for mercy at his feet. The hysteria was increasing with each breath. My whole family was to soon join my father.

"Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go down to the river!" I said. I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth. My life would soon be over. The horror of the moment overwhelmed me. My father and I would soon be together.

As quickly as I confronted the soldier and began my exit my mother intervened. Speaking Hausa, the soldier’s native language, and with thirty-five pounds sterling (the soldier’s lustful language), the soldier left us. He warned my mother that I should not be seen as well as my younger brothers. The soldier was told to kill any Igbo child or man over five years old.

For the next two weeks I hid out in our attic. My bed was propped up vertically and I put padding all over the floor. Soldiers had been known to come into homes and fire randomly into the ceilings.

The soldiers did not return. The war went on for three years. Many, many Nigerians died. I survived. I live. I remember. The pain and hurt still lingers.

War exemplifies how man is the most cruel and vicious animal on this earth. Let us all work to tame our savage instincts, realize that we can share, believe that we can live together, and search for happiness and unity with all humankind.

Dr. Stan Okafor - University of Ibadan - July 1999