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Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
@RealOlaudah
Sep 24, 2022 • 4 tweets • 2 min read • Read on X
“She was called Phillis, because that was the name of the ship that brought her, and Wheatley, which was the name of the merchant who bought her. She was born in Senegal. In Boston, the slave traders put her up for sale:
-she's seven years old! She will be a good mare! Image
She was felt, naked, by many hands.
At thirteen, she was already writing poems in a language that was not her own. No one believed that she was the author. At the age of twenty, Phillis was questioned by a court of eighteen enlightened men in robes and wigs.
She had to recite texts from Virgil and Milton and some messages from the Bible, and she also had to swear that the poems she had written were not plagiarized. From a chair, she gave her long examination, until the court accepted her:
She was a woman, she was black, she was a slave, but she was a poet. "
Phillis Wheatley., was the first African-American writer to publish a book in the United States.
#BlackHistory
#TransAtlanticSlavery
#BlackLivesMatter
#History

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More from @RealOlaudah

Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Mar 4
There is a royal family in Lagos called Oniru. In the earliest times when there was no Lagos and Eko knew its boundaries, that family owned all lands that house today’s Awolowo Road, the prime area called Falomo, Tafawa Balewa Square, the Independence Building, Island Club, Yoruba Tennis Club, et cetera, et cetera. Add Oyinkan Abayomi to that list, and, in addition to those places, input 18 other villages – all in pricey Lagos Island.
The family that owned all those is the family that produced the new and contentious speaker of Lagos State House of Assembly, Mrs Mojisola Lasbat Meranda. Do not mind her surname; she is an Oniru. Her brother is the reigning Oba of their Iruland. She is a princess but being a princess is not enough for her to join the big league of Lagos. Her election as speaker by almost all her colleagues, means little or nothing. In the pantheon of Lagos politics, there is always one god whose one vote trumps a million ballots. In some places, you do not have to enter the grove before you become an elder; grey hair is enough. Not in Lagos. In Lagos, the godfather is the igbó’rò, the sacred grove that confers age, that vests authority in and breathes life into all figurines.
The search for that breath is what is making Meranda and her backers panting. And, she has just started. Breaking into the power vault of Lagos uninvited is akin to sitting on a million needles. She did that and must, therefore, writhe from the needle effect. Fortunately for her, she is a woman with a lot of fluid in her tear gland, and she has been generous with shedding princely tears since her colleagues invested her with the authority to be speaker of the president’s state. Last week, the sacked speaker, Mudashiru Obasa, borrowed some lines from Black Scorpion’s Third Marine Commando. Obasa landed at the House complex at dawn and sensationally announced his comeback. As cover, he had guns and boots of various shapes and sizes behind him.
Read 14 tweets
Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Mar 2
SENATOR AKPABIO: I CAN NO LONGER HOLD IT

🧵
I “kind of” like Senate President, Godswill Akpabio and his lovely wife, Unoma. She is Igbo, married to Akwa Ibom, so she also bears the name Ekaette.

When Akpabio was the Governor of Akwa Ibom State, I admired the couple so much. The two usually displayed their love for each other publicly. Unoma would use fan on her husband each time she was there and he was making a speech. Atimes, she would use a white handkerchief to wipe sweat off Akpabio as he read. Akpabio also reciprocated in kind. He did the same for her.
Our high profile Leaders hardly show their love for their spouses publicly. We admire the Obamas, for instance, when they hold each other in public, kiss and dance – even the Trumps- but our own people are stiff. Akpabio, I don’t know about now, was different when he was Governor. I will also say that for my State Governor, Senator Hope Uzodinma and his beautiful wife, Chioma. They hold hands and cling to each other publicly, even in Church, as if they just met. Good for family values.
Read 18 tweets
Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Feb 26
In five parts, thirteen chapters, six appendices, including an interview; a prologue and an epilogue, he sought to give a definite definition of himself. But, for me, the deepest insight into the person of General Ibrahim Babangida is not in his expensive book (it fetched him billions; I bought a copy for N40,000). The greatest revelation was at the launch of the book in Abuja. His comrade-in-arms and childhood friend, General Abdulsalami Abubakar, revealed that a cleric told them about 80 years ago that Babangida would one day be president of his country.
Now, when you, a seer, tell a child that he would be king one day, the palace cannot be safe until the child becomes man and he becomes king – or he dies. We read exactly that in Shakespeare’s story of the Scottish General, Macbeth. Three witches tell Macbeth that he will be King of Scotland. Macbeth becomes impatient; he kills the reigning king and takes the throne. Because of the security of his throne, paranoia pushes King Macbeth to take other desperate measures. People die; civil war erupts, more people die. Darkness falls. Please, go back and read again your Macbeth.
My people have several proverbs and sayings on royalty and fate. They say one’s destiny makes one a king but one’s character dethrones one (Orí ẹni ni í fini j’ọba, ìwà èyàn ni í yọ èyàn l’óyè). Like Macbeth, IBB joined the army and rose to become a General. Again, like Macbeth, the Thane of Cawdor prophecy came true for Babangida and he became Chief of Army Staff. Finally, like Macbeth, he became king and pronounced himself president and proceeded to do as Macbeth did until he left almost the Macbeth way. If you had been wondering why the amiable General from Minna chose ‘president’ as his official title, now you know it was in fulfillment of a prophecy.
Read 17 tweets
Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Feb 10
In recent days, the United States has begun a major gutting of USAID, the agency responsible for administering foreign aid. Many Americans are celebrating this as a victory—finally, no more taxpayer dollars wasted on countries that, in their view, give nothing back. Elon Musk, the billionaire who only arrived in the U.S. at 24, went as far as calling USAID a “criminal organization,” declaring, “Time for it to die.” Donald Trump has labeled those in the agency as “radical lunatics.” American adversaries, eager to see the U.S. retreat from the global stage, have cheered them on. But the most ecstatic of all are everyday Americans, convinced that their country has been bleeding money for too long on nations that seemingly offer nothing in return.

🧵
It’s a tempting narrative. A compelling soundbite. The idea that the U.S. is simply throwing billions at ungrateful nations makes for good political theater. But peel back the layers, and this argument falls apart. Foreign aid is not charity; it is a business transaction, a diplomatic tool, and an economic strategy. It benefits the giver far more than the receiver. The problem is that ordinary citizens in donor countries, including the United States, rarely see how this system enriches their own economy, sustains their industries, and extends their country’s global influence.
Foreign aid has long been a strategic tool for influence peddling in international diplomacy. The Marshall Plan, which saw the U.S. inject over $13 billion ($173 billion in today’s dollars) into Europe after World War II, was not simply a benevolent act. It was a calculated move to counter Soviet influence and solidify U.S. leadership in the Western world. By rebuilding European economies, the U.S. ensured that its allies remained stable and aligned with its interests, creating lucrative markets for American goods in the process.

The same principle applies today. Countries receiving U.S. aid are far more likely to support American policies in international forums, grant military access, and enter favorable trade agreements. In Africa, for example, USAID programs often come with subtle (or not-so-subtle) conditions—align with Washington on key votes at the United Nations, accept certain military partnerships, or open markets to American corporations.
Read 11 tweets
Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Feb 9
A Nigerian lawyer, Kenneth Ikonne Esq., narrates his saddest experience in court. The story is about love and betrayal. It throws up the issue of DNA on the spotlight again, leaving the reader spell-bound. If you are able to control your emotions and manage a few drops of tears, then get on with the story below.

🧵
The scene in the courtroom of the Family Division of the Lagos State High Court, Ikeja, evoked deep pathos. The judge, a Lady, was sobbing. And so were the parties, the lawyers, and everyone else in that rattled courtroom, including me! It was at the hearing of a case instituted by me on behalf of my client, Dapo, against his former consort. Their relationship more, than thirteen years earlier, had produced a baby girl, but it did not eventually lead to marriage, even though Dapo had assumed full responsibility for the child’s upkeep and maintenance, and was at the time of the hearing bearing full responsibility for her schooling and upkeep at the very expensive Turkish – American secondary school at Victoria Island, Lagos! Dapo was well – heeled, a chartered accountant, and loved the child – his only child – dearly.
The love affair between Dapo and Jumoke, the child’s mother had been steamy and passionate. Jumoke’s mother fully supported the affair. Not only was Dapo a comely lad, he had also been a very promising young man, from a very good family in Osun State. Graduating at the top of his class, with a first class in Chemical Engineering from the University of Ife, he had ventured into Accounting, and quickly became a fellow of the Institute of Chartered Accountants of Nigeria. Dapo was thus by every standard, a worthy suitor, and a welcome guest at his lover’s mother’s home in Abeokuta. It was in the course of one of those visits that the inevitable happened, and the lady took in, and eventually gave birth to the baby girl!
Read 21 tweets
Olaudah Equiano® Profile picture
Feb 2
Nwanna, Many years ago, the General, Dim Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu spoke about the “Biafra of the mind.” Only a few, I think, understood him. Well, they say, only the deep speak to the deep.

But let me attempt here to tease out Dim Ojukwu’s prescription: the greatest proof of Igbo survival and aspiration must be to model, wherever Onye-Igbo stands, the ethos of innovation, excellence, ingenuity, and ability that marked the Igbo endeavor in Biafra. We must also use Biafra as the stepping stone to a higher vision of the Igbo place in the world.
There is no single proof or evidence today that the Igbo of this generation are capable of transforming any nation to which they lay claim. I have looked; I have studied the Igbo situation, and I have listened to my Igbo kinsmen, and I think something is fundamentally wrong: the Igbo are trapped in a deadening hate, self-pity and nostalgia. It is the kind of nostalgia that is both defeatist and deadly because it continues to romanticize the past while the future speeds away.

The Igbo cannot wait until they achieve Biafra or a separate nation in order to build and secure Igbo land. Soon after the end of the war, Igbo survivors of the war, girded their loins and embarked on the work of restoration. With singular grit, they revived the economy of the East, and by 1979, just nine years after the end of the war, were ready to take on the rest of the nation again. We their children are a disgrace to the spirit of those men and women.
The Igbo are today a beggarly nation of impotent, lachrymal people now weeping about “marginalization” and waiting for Nigeria to collapse or let them go, so that they will go and make something of themselves. This is an over-indulged generation. The last of the Igbo are old and dying; the current Igbo are “inferior Igbo.” They are just waiting for Godot.

Now, you say, the only time the Igbo will work is if power remains in the South. I think this is too simple. Take a look around you, where are those Igbo men and women? Which Igbo today have the sagacity of Zik, or the courage of Okpara, Mbakwe, or Ojukwu, the capacity of Ojike or Okigbo, the fierce pride and stabilizing force of the old Igbo women, the organizational acumen of an RBK Okafor, the selfless pride of those Igbo of the last generation, who always rose to the occasion when the Igbo summoned them to great causes, including giving their widows mite without question, for as long as “they Igbo have said…”
Read 9 tweets

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