By Livy-Elcon Emereonye
“Ọ bụghị n’ihi na ị na-azụ nwa, ka ọ ga-akpọ gị nna.” – Igbo proverb
Paraphrased, the above proverb can be contextualized into: “No matter what you do for the son of your girlfriend, he will never call you father.”
Every epoch in history is marked by a moment of reckoning — a turning point when a people must choose between continued submission and the path of self-determination. For the Igbo, that moment is now. The hostility they face in Lagos — from the demolition of markets and businesses, to political intimidation, to orchestrated violence — is not merely ethnic rivalry. This serves as a harsh reminder that regardless of the success the Igbo achieve beyond their homeland, they will not gain full acceptance until their own land stands strong as a symbol of power, pride, and prosperity.
This is not a lamentation. It is a manifesto. A fiery call to arms — not with guns or bullets — but with unity, industry, and vision. It is a call to re-awaken the sleeping lion, to turn hostility into energy, and to make Ala Igbo not just livable, but enviable: one of the best places on earth.
One needs to explore history to grasp the comparison of the Igbo to lions. Before the British came, the Igbo had established one of Africa’s most egalitarian and republican governance systems. There were no kings in most Igbo towns — instead, a communal system of decision-making thrived, where consensus, merit, and productivity carried weight. This spirit of independence and entrepreneurship shaped the Igbo character. When the British introduced cash crops and trade, the Igbo seized the opportunity. From palm oil in Aba to commerce in Onitsha, they became major players in the colonial economy. The Igbo were among the first to embrace Western education, producing early lawyers, doctors, and administrators. By the 1960s, they had become the engine of Nigeria’s intellectual and commercial class.
Then came the tragedy of 1967–1970: the Biafran War. Over three million Igbo lives were lost through bombs, starvation, and genocide. Their properties outside Igbo land were declared “abandoned,” and their bank accounts were reduced to a humiliating £20, no matter how much they had before the war. It was the greatest attempt to break a people’s spirit. However, the Igbo survived. Like a phoenix, they ascended from the ruins. With £20, they rebuilt businesses. With battered roads and no federal support, they reconstructed their towns. With determination, they re-entered Nigeria’s economy, and within a generation, became dominant in trade, commerce, and industry again. This resilience is not ordinary. It is the lion’s spirit — sleeping sometimes, but never dead.
Yet for decades, Lagos has been both a place of opportunity and hostility for the Igbo. Igbo traders and industrialists built markets like Alaba, Ladipo, and ASPAMDA into multi-billion-naira hubs. They turned Mushin, Balogun, and Idumota into buzzing commercial centres. Their presence expanded Lagos into West Africa’s biggest economy. But the same Igbo have faced orchestrated hostility. Markets have been razed under suspicious circumstances. Shops have been sealed and demolished. Properties acquired legally have been targeted. In elections, they have been attacked for daring to vote their conscience. Worse still, the federal government has maintained a deadly silence — a silence that reeks of tacit approval. In other nations, such attacks would provoke outrage. In Nigeria, it is normalized.
This paradox reveals a simple but bitter truth: Lagos will never be home for the Igbo. They may thrive there, but they will never truly belong. Every act of hostility in Lagos is a reminder that only in their own land can the Igbo build a destiny without fear of demolition or persecution. History proves that persecution often fertilizes greatness. The Jews, scattered across Europe, faced pogroms, ghettos, and the Holocaust. Yet, in 1948 they rebuilt Israel — today a global power in technology, agriculture, and defense. The Chinese, once humiliated by Western powers and colonized in their own homeland, turned humiliation into resolve. Today, China is the second-largest economy in the world. South Korea, devastated by war in the 1950s, transformed itself in one generation into a hub of technology and culture. The Igbo too must see hostility in Lagos not as tragedy but as opportunity. Every market burnt in Lagos must produce ten new factories in Aba. Every vote suppressed in Lagos must result in the building of new universities in Enugu and Owerri. Every insult must provoke innovation. Every wound must fuel determination.
The sleeping lion is Ala Igbo — rich in resources, fertile in land, vibrant in culture, yet underdeveloped because her sons and daughters invest more in alien soil than in their own. For too long, the Igbo have built empires in foreign lands, while their homeland remains neglected, crying for revival. To re-awaken the lion, the Igbo must embrace a new consciousness, a radical redirection of wealth, energy, and vision. They must realize that commerce without homeland investment is like planting seeds on another man’s farm. Aba must be transformed into Africa’s Guangzhou, producing textiles, shoes, and technology. Nnewi must rise again as the Detroit of Africa, manufacturing cars, spare parts, and electronics. Onitsha must become a global trade hub, rivaling Dubai and Singapore. Enugu must emerge as the Silicon Valley of Nigeria, attracting tech start-ups and digital enterprises.
Without roads, power, ports, and airports, industries cannot thrive. Ala Igbo must take destiny into its own hands. If government neglects them, let private-public partnerships take the lead. The same ingenuity that built Innoson Motors can build independent power plants, toll roads, and industrial estates. Imagine a seaport in Onitsha or an international airport in Abia — such projects would unlock trillions in trade and position Ala Igbo as the true commercial heartbeat of West Africa. But infrastructure alone is not enough. The Igbo must invest in knowledge. Universities must not just produce degrees but innovations. Science, technology, and medicine should be prioritized. Scholarships must be given to brilliant Igbo youths to study globally and return with ideas to build at home.
A people without cultural pride cannot achieve lasting greatness. The Igbo must reclaim their language and traditions. Igbo must be compulsory in schools. Literature, art, and film must project Igbo excellence to the world. Nollywood, already dominated by Igbo creativity, must be harnessed to tell stories of triumph and resilience. Above all, the Igbo must achieve political unity. The lion cannot rise if it remains divided. Igbo political leaders must set aside petty rivalries and personal ambition. They must build a collective agenda for Ala Igbo. Unity of purpose is non-negotiable. A fractured pride cannot withstand external hostility, but a united front will command respect.
The billionaire traders, industrialists, and professionals must lead this renaissance. For decades, Igbo wealth has fertilized Lagos, Abuja, and foreign banks. Now is the time to redirect. Imagine if Innoson Motors doubled its investment in local manufacturing and partnered with global firms. Imagine if Igbo traders invested 30% of their capital back home. Imagine if billionaires built industrial parks, hospitals, and research centers in Igbo land. In ten years, Ala Igbo would rival Singapore or South Korea. The lion would not just wake — it would roar.
The Igbo are not just in Nigeria. From South Africa to the U.S., from China to Germany, they are everywhere. This global diaspora must be harnessed. Just as Jews in America invest in Israel, Igbo abroad must invest in Ala Igbo. They must bring capital, skills, and connections. They must see Ala Igbo as the future, not as a nostalgic village to visit during Christmas.
Let us imagine an Igbo land of the future: cities with world-class infrastructure, clean energy, and efficient transport; industries producing everything from cars to pharmaceuticals; universities ranked among the top 100 in the world; a strong economy independent of oil, built on trade, agriculture, and technology; a united, proud, and confident people who no longer beg for acceptance in Lagos or Abuja. This is not a dream. It is possible — if the lion wakes.
“Ihe onye rụrụ n’ụlọ ọzọ anaghị atụ ya mma.”
Yes, what a person labours for in another man’s house seldom earns him beauty or credit. Investments outside your rightful place often bring disappointment after the envy motivated attacks.
The Igbo have been insulted, attacked, and underestimated. But history shows that they are unstoppable when provoked. The hostility in Lagos should be the last straw, the spark that ignites the great Igbo renaissance. Yes, the lion has slept long enough. But when it rises, it will not just walk — it will roar. And that roar will shake Nigeria, Africa, and the world. Ala Igbo will no longer be a land of exodus but a land of return. No longer a land of lamentation, but a land of innovation. No longer a land begging for space, but a land commanding respect.
Those who forget history will repeat the mistakes of the past. It’s time we remembered that the civil war has not ended, but where there is life, there is hope.
Were your businesses or property destroyed, cry if you wished but at the end pick up the pieces, rejoice and be glad – and then start all over again and this time around where your success will not attract hysteric envy and more tribal enemies.
Everything collaborates for a positive outcome. These destructions might represent Providence for the Igbo Think Home Initiative. North or West, home is the best.
Let this be the manifesto of our generation: to re-awaken the sleeping lion and build Ala Igbo into one of the best places on earth.
A stitch in time saves nine. Now is the time!
