Okpabi’s “A Conquered People”: An Eleme Son's Lament and Call to Remember

 

By Nwafor Oji Awala

Jonah Okpabi’s A Conquered People is more than just a novel; it is a raw, aching lament for my homeland, Eleme. Having just finished my third reading—an autographed copy, a gift from the author himself—the familiar, bitter venom of grief spread through my veins. It's a deep, aching sorrow not just for the fictional tragedy within its pages, but for the Eleme people dying now, today, and tomorrow. Our lives, our environment, our very way of life, stolen and destroyed by a conspiracy of government and the relentless oil companies operating on our ancestral lands.

Okpabi’s work is a poignant and unflinching exploration of the Eleme community, and by extension, the entire Niger Delta. It delves into the complex interplay of environmental degradation, economic exploitation, and the devastating social and psychological impact on its inhabitants. Through a blend of personal narratives, historical context, and sharp social commentary, Okpabi paints a vivid picture of a land and its people seemingly subjugated by the relentless forces of oil extraction.

The Unseen Scars of Oil

The story, told through the innocent eyes of a young boy named Osaro, is set in a fictional Eleme land within the Niger Delta. The central conflict—the Alode community’s struggle against a powerful oil company, backed by the government, forcefully seizing their ancestral lands for drilling—strikes a chord so deep within me it resonates with the cries of my own ancestors. Through Osaro’s perspective, I witnessed the systematic destruction of our way of life: the strong communal bonds, the rich cultural traditions, the profound connection to our land—all systematically dismantled.

The novel vividly portrays the helplessness of the villagers against the might of the company, and the profound sorrow of leaving their ancestral home. Our waters are polluted, our farms seized, promises broken. Despite protests and heartfelt petitions, the exploitation continued, leading to the heartbreaking forced relocation of our people from their ruined homeland to a bleak, desolate area. A Conquered People is truly a story full of “tears, pains and blood” of a people evacuated through a “conspiracy of government and mining companies.”

One of the book's greatest strengths lies in its ability to humanize the often-abstract concept of environmental damage. Okpabi doesn’t just present statistics; he introduces us to individuals whose lives are intimately intertwined with the polluted waters and despoiled lands. Their stories of lost livelihoods, debilitating health issues, and a pervasive sense of powerlessness resonate deeply, forcing the reader—forcing me—to confront the unbearable human cost of resource exploitation. The narrative voice carries a raw, authentic quality, lending credibility and an almost unbearable emotional weight to the accounts shared.

Okpabi skillfully weaves in the historical context of oil exploration in the Niger Delta, tracing the trajectory from initial promises of development to the current reality of environmental devastation and economic disparity. He critiques the role of multinational oil corporations and the complicity of government structures, highlighting the systemic issues that perpetuate our region's plight. The book doesn't shy away from naming names and pointing fingers, making it a powerful indictment of the prevailing situation.

My Eleme Heart: A Whirlwind of Emotion

As an Eleme man, deeply committed to the ideals of my homeland—its dignity, its land, its people, and its ancestral legacy—reading A Conquered People unleashes a profound emotional and psychological upheaval within me. My mood and state of mind are irrevocably shaped by the raw truth of the narrative, and the crushing weight of generational suffering on my land.

I mourned—for my people dying every day, for the poisoned earth, and for a homeland reduced to a mere commodity. My thoughts spiral around betrayal and injustice, not just by the oil giants and the Nigerian state, but by the global indifference that allows this tragedy to unfold. I feel haunted by the truth that the suffering of Eleme is deliberate, systemic, and prolonged.

Anger burns in me—not just loud outrage, but a deeper, quieter fury born of helplessness. It’s the kind of fury that comes from knowing those responsible are still profiting, unpunished, while my people endure. Despite the pain, there is a powerful undercurrent of resolve. A commitment to preserve memory, to reclaim dignity, and to resist erasure. But what can one man do in the face of such massive power and corruption?

I feel that the Eleme man is isolated in his pain, especially as the world seems to neither understand nor care. Yet, there’s also a profound, collective mourning shared with my people—an unspoken brotherhood of survivors. My emotional and psychological journey after reading A Conquered People swings violently between grief and rage, helplessness and resolve, isolation and unity. I feel wounded, yes, but also awakened, acutely aware of my role as both a witness to tragedy and a custodian of resistance.

My spirit whispers, a defiant echo against the roaring tide of injustice: “We are a conquered people, yes. But even conquered, we remember. And in remembering, we rise.”

© Nwafor Oji Awala

May 2025