Heroic Of An Orphan – The Sun Newspaper Book Review

The late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were regarded as the Golden Age of Juvenile Literature, as classial works of juvenilia were produced, leading to the emergence of a new canon. Thomas Hughes’ Tom Brown’s School Days, Lewis Carrol’s Alice in Wonderland, Robert Stevenson’s Treasure Island and Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer are classic any shoolboy could easily barter for lollypop

This genre is seen as a new way of governing children’s behaviour than physical displine, using didacticism brightly coloured covers and page illustrations as an enticement. Juvenile literature (prose, drama and poetry) are writings directed at children to make them grow joyously.

The Adventures of Ofarimerechi is a fable that is not ony appealing to juveniles but also to adults because of the depth of the theme explored and the diction deployed. The bonus here is that the young reader must emerge from the reading exercise with rich, descriptive poetic language in his repertoire

The dominant theme in the book are bastiality and the tragedy of war and their overreaching consequences on every creature. Man has built beautiful cities, fancy cars, among other scientific innovation for himself, yet he has continued to make life miserable for animals in the bush, hunting them fir games and klling them for mischief. The author is worried by the descration of the ecosystem by man.

The two major charactees in the book Ofarimerechi (an 8-year-old boy) and Kudu (the talking antelope) are hard done by. While Ofa is orphaned by the war, Kudu is separated from the herd due to the same reason. When they run into each other, a bond of friendship quickly develops between them and their lifestyle becomes a shining example of what it means to live in peace and harmony – what humanity is lacking at the moment

The Adventures of Ofarimerechi enjoys a narrative combo: the third person point of view and the first person are weaved in the narrative. The story begins with the third person – “Once in the eastern village of Ogbunike, northeast of the Niger…” -and alternates with the first person narrative when the Talking Kudu begins to tell his own story: “I galloped desperately beneath the gleam of the evening…”

All through this titillating tale, the atmosphere switches between dark forebodings, unease and joy. We are told, from the begining of the story of Ofa liing in a workd that apprars to him to be like a netherworld; the grass is no longer growing due ti aerial bombardments for three years (the Nigerian Civil War?). From his hideout, “the sky was being torn asunder by a spinning thunderous tremor”

Our hero soon becomes a waderer lost in a forest where there is no indication of human life. Even the panting antelope he encounters, one of the suurvivors of the blitz, is scared to death: “Kill me already, and be over with it!” But Ofa swears. “I am not going to kill you.” When the animal returns, “you are about the only human who is not about to plunge an arrow through my back or sword into my chest”, we get the exact picture of how anguished the animal world feels about us.

Kudu’s exciting tale of his journey – meeting the wonderful pangoline and the Great Moa – tickles the orphan, filling him with awe and the spirit of adventure, and it’s an adventure that cuts across the grassland, the intoxicating Guinea Savannah with the glimpses of paradise. At the Mystical Garden, Ofa apoligises ti the elegant latite (Great Moa) for the destructive hunting expeditions of man on animals.

A turning point in the narrative is when Kudu us shot by hunters but is revived by the daring Ofa, using the mystical golden feather given to him by the Great Moa. Aside swelling the vocabulary of the young reader, The Adventure of Ofarimerechi offers invaluable geographical lessons on our flora and fauna. Names of different plants and animals and their peculiar habitats are worked into the tale, as the levitating physical setting of Enugu and the realm of fantasy commingle in a masterly disinvention of time and space. We  have the magic tree, the mystical garden, among others.

A page-turner makes you feel hunky-dory, yes. That’s what Linda Etuk’s juvenilia does to you. This is the type of story book that ought to be in the school curriculum.

The Sun Newspaper

Friday, July 27, 2018

By Henry Akubuiro


An Apology Letter To Mother Earth

mother earth

The simple phrase of “I’m sorry” isn’t just enough.

Dear Mother Earth,

Oh mother earth, your beauty remains a wonder by divine design. Your life forms evolve and my love for you is absolute. You have provided us with food, shelter, air, water, resources and most importantly, love. For millions of years you have unconditionally provided for mankind and the animals we share this planet with, and you never truly ask for anything in return but care and love. You truly are the mother of the world. You support all races, religions, genders, ages and all walks of life. You love unconditionally and provide for us always. Not just the things we need to survive, but the very things that make life worth living. I come forward to say “I’m sorry.” I understand sorry cannot undo what has been done, but I am sure that it can help ease the pain and tension of the aftermath.There is a lot to be sorry for.


I am sorry that many people do not understand you. They call you a disaster but man was the first ever encroacher, we evaded your privacy, we build our great city on your chest; along fault line and near the cracks in the Earth’s crust yet we don’t expect to exasperate you. When you quake shifting and swirling around in discomfort, we call you names that are not befitting; typhoon, tsunami, cyclone, earthquake, monsoon etc. Within minutes of any major fidgety movement you make, shock-waves can twist the landscape, flatten buildings and wipe out entire neighbourhoods but man never learns her lesson. Yet we want to live in countries bordered by great walls away from each other. Amassing more lands we were not supposed to live in, lands that were not meant for us. A mother must have her privacy. Even human mothers have their private parts. Their children do not know what comes from it and even what it emits.

I am sorry that many people do not see our planet this way. That many people see the wonders you have created as simply commodities to be used up, mass produced and wasted, all at the expense of making money. We build skyscrapers to block out the sun, install artificial light that blocks out the sky and stars, we no longer feel grass between our feet but we have cold concrete, certain animals are seen as not having emotions but simply being put on this earth for us to use as food and mistreat. We take all you have provided for us and use it until we can use no more. We exploit this beautiful home you have given us. And as we exploit it, we seem to wound you.

You cry in pain, but no one seems to hear it. Those who do hear you have been silenced by higher powers; those who try and mend your wounds are removed from the public. It seems we have attempted to numb ourselves from your pain, as it hurts us too much to know that we have begun the process of killing you. Only now have many people begun to realize the damage we have caused you, Mother Nature. Only now can we maybe, and I stress maybe, begin to fix the damage we have done to you. Mother Nature, I am sorry. But sorry will never be enough.


Open Letter From Mother Earth

Dear Children of the Soil,

I love the Creator, He is the one who brought me into being. You though are not only children of His spirit, you are mine also. You have a Heavenly Father and a Mother Earth. Why don’t you love me too? Why do you worship concrete so much? Why are you so content to let me die? Why are you letting most of other species; plant and animals alike suffer too? That isn’t what the almighty Creator planned.

I will tell you the creation story; it is mine to tell! I know better because I was there when He formed you out of me. On the day after He made light that scattered darkness and showed the infinite space.

I was next in line – he made me and wore a vast blue glorious veil over me. I am the base of all things that was made. He separated my body into parts; water and land. I became the home for all that was made. I am the keeper! You are killing me slowly, you pollute me in every way you can – by ocean, sky and land. You chase around after a wealth neither of us gave you.

Gold is only a shiny yellow metal and money – I don’t understand at all. What is it? Is it worth killing me, your mother planet, over? Where will you go children? Where will you go, heaven? Not until you return to me.

Do you plan on eking out life on some barren rock with lakes of poison surrounded by technology? No species can ever recover after killing its home world, its mother. To do so is spiritual suicide; you love me, as I love you.

Abuse isn’t love though and you abuse me with your lust for material wealth you do not need. You live in fear on a planet so achingly beautiful that there is no other like me. I am the best He ever made, you are supposed to be the finest species but you have a cultural insanity that we all don’t understand. You were meant to care for us like in those Eden days. Are those days gone? Children of the soil you need clean water, healthy soils and diverse crops. Your fellow species whom you now call lower are also my children, they need habitats too. You kill and eat the last of them. They need to reproduce not become you artifact and pleasurable trophies from a good hunt. You were never supposed to be greedy like this; you were supposed to respect the spirits of all. He gave you His spirit because He believes you have the ability to preserve. Use it now! Save me now! It’s a mother’s call! Life is sacred, you are sacred. We all are! The circle of life must thrive