Being Keynote Address by Collins Nweke for Ikenga Day 2026 of The AfrikaFora
Distinguished guests, brothers and sisters, Ndigbo, friends of The AfrikaFora,
There could hardly be a more fitting theme for Ikenga Day 2026 than Njikota or Nchikota: the idea that we are stronger when we come together; that individual strength acquires greater meaning when joined with the strength of others. Njikota is more than cooperation. It is a philosophy of collective agency. And perhaps there is no better moment to interrogate what that philosophy should mean for Ndigbo today.
There is, I sense, a quiet but discernible yearning across parts of the South-East for a restoration of the fraternal bond that once enabled a people confronted by existential danger to act almost as one. That memory inevitably takes us back to Biafra.
Whatever our different interpretations of that tragic period, we should understand why its memory remains powerful. Biafra was not merely a territorial proposition. For many, it became an expression of collective survival, shared injury, courage and belonging. Under extraordinary circumstances, people discovered the enormous power of standing together. But history does not only ask us to remember. History asks us what we will do with memory.
And that is where I want to offer a different reading of Njikota. What if the great challenge before this generation is not to recreate the Njikota that enabled separation, but to summon a new Njikota capable of transforming the Nigerian federation? What if the same instinct to act together can become an instinct to build together?
Nigeria is unquestionably troubled. The grievances of the South-East cannot simply be wished away. Questions of representation, federalism, equity, security, infrastructure and belonging remain legitimate. A durable Nigerian union cannot be built by demanding silence from those who feel excluded. But neither should legitimate grievance imprison us permanently within the politics of grievance.
There must come a point when memory becomes strategy. And perhaps history itself has already begun pointing us in that direction. There is a remarkable symbolism in contemporary Nigeria that we should not overlook. The man who once led Biafra in an attempt to leave Nigeria would, decades later, offer himself for election as President of Nigeria. And today, the widow of Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu serves as the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
Think about that journey for a moment. From leading a secessionist republic to seeking to lead the federation. And today, the widow of the man who led Biafra, Her Excellency Bianca Ojumegwu-Ojukwu, serves as Nigeria’s Foreign Minister.
If history teaches through symbolism, then surely there is a lesson here. It tells us that remembering Biafra need not mean remaining trapped inside Biafra. Perhaps a foundation has already been laid upon which this generation; and particularly the generation after us; can construct a different understanding of Njikota.
But there must be reciprocity. Nigeria cannot demand that Ndigbo continually enlarge their understanding of belonging while the Nigerian state refuses to interrogate those things that continue to make some Ndigbo question that belonging. The conversation must therefore be honest. There remain grievances, some demonstrably structural, others matters of perception. But perceptions in nation-building matter.
There is the longstanding imbalance in the number of states in the South-East and the representation and federal resources that flow from it. There are recurring concerns about equitable representation in federal institutions and the commanding heights of national security and governance. There are questions about infrastructure and federal presence. There remains the unresolved emotional inheritance of the Civil War and the feeling among many younger Ndigbo that they are still being asked to carry the burden of a conflict they did not fight.
A mature federation does not dismiss such sentiments simply because it disagrees with some of them. It listens. It investigates. Where injustice is real, it corrects it. Where the grievance rests upon misperception, it produces evidence and builds trust. And where old wounds remain open, it seeks reconciliation rather than demanding collective amnesia.
Belonging cannot be legislated into existence; it must also be experienced. This is why the new Njikota must impose obligations on both sides. Ndi Igbo must resist allowing the memory of exclusion to become a permanent philosophy of withdrawal. But Nigeria must resist creating the conditions that make withdrawal attractive.
That, for me, is the bargain.
We should move from Njikota as solidarity for separation towards Njikota as solidarity for transformation. And Nigeria itself must become an enabler of that transformation. For the ultimate answer to separatist sentiment is not repression. Neither is it rhetoric about national unity. The most powerful answer is to build a federation so just, so inclusive and so respectful of its constituent peoples that separation progressively loses its emotional appeal. Then Njikota acquires an even larger meaning.
Our history contains another powerful tradition that deserves equal attention: the ability to build beyond our immediate geography. The Igbo trader who establishes a business hundreds of kilometres from his ancestral home; the professional who builds institutions across Nigeria; the entrepreneur whose supply chains cross ethnic and religious boundaries; the families that have lived for generations in Lagos, Kano, Abuja, Port Harcourt and elsewhere. These too are genuinely organic expressions of Igbo identity. They tell us something important: Our genius has never been isolation. Our genius has been connection.
Perhaps, therefore, Njikota must now travel beyond the boundaries within which we have sometimes confined it. And here, I believe, we must begin close to home. The political map tells us that the South-East consists of five states. But peoples, cultures, kinships and histories do not always fit neatly within administrative boundaries. Igbo communities and cultural affinities extend beyond the constitutional boundaries of today’s South-East. Rivers do not erase kinship. State creation does not abolish ancestry. Administrative boundaries need not become psychological walls.
So perhaps the first task of a contemporary Njikota is reconnection among ourselves: rediscovering relationships weakened by state boundaries, political classifications and decades of competing narratives about who belongs where. But there is a second circle of Njikota. We must also remember that before Biafra, there was an Eastern Nigeria in which Igbo, Ijaw, Efik, Ibibio, Ogoni and other peoples shared political space, economic relationships, institutions and, inevitably, disagreements. The Civil War and the decades that followed altered many of those relationships. Some wounds remain. Some suspicions remain. Some historical interpretations remain contested.
Njikota should give us the courage to revisit that fraternity too. Not to romanticise the old Eastern Region. Not to pretend that differences did not exist. But to ask whether peoples who share geography, commerce, history and so many developmental interests can rediscover the habit of acting together. This is where Njikota begins to acquire strategic meaning.
Imagine an Igbo renaissance that begins by reconnecting Ndigbo across artificial administrative boundaries, then rebuilds bridges with our historic neighbours across the old Eastern Region, and from there deliberately reaches towards the rest of Nigeria. That gives us concentric circles of Njikota:
Njikota among Ndigbo.
Njikota across our historic Eastern neighbourhood.
Njikota with the rest of Nigeria.
Each circle strengthens rather than diminishes the next. For there is no contradiction between being deeply Igbo and profoundly Nigerian. There should equally be no contradiction between recovering Eastern fraternity and strengthening Nigerian nationhood. Indeed, perhaps Nigeria itself should learn something from this. Nigeria will not become stronger by flattening its identities. It will become stronger when those identities develop the confidence to cooperate across their boundaries. That would be Njikota as statecraft.
It would mean moving from “How do we leave Nigeria?” to the more difficult question: “How do we help remake Nigeria into a country in which nobody needs to contemplate leaving?” This is not surrender. It is not forgetting history. And it certainly does not mean accepting injustice. Indeed, reconciliation without justice is fragile. But there is a difference between remembering Biafra and remaining politically trapped inside Biafra. Our ancestors taught us that Igwebuike: there is strength in numbers. But they did not prescribe the boundaries within which those numbers must be assembled. The great opportunity before us is therefore not merely to recover the bond. It is to enlarge the circle.
For Ndigbo, I believe that moment is now. Because perhaps the next great Igbo political project should not be about leaving Nigeria. Perhaps it should be about helping Nigeria finally become the federation it has always promised to be.
The generation that fought the Civil War demonstrated extraordinary courage in circumstances we should pray never to experience again. Our generation requires another kind of courage: The courage to build bridges across old trenches.
Perhaps the greatest tribute we can pay those who suffered, fought and died is not to recreate the circumstances that produced that tragedy, but to help create a Nigeria in which such a tragedy can never happen again.
The Ikenga represents strength, achievement, enterprise and the power of human agency. Let Ikenga Day 2026 therefore mark a subtle but important intellectual shift.
Before I close, permit me to bring Njikota from the realm of ideas into this very room.
Because what The AfrikaFora has been doing, year after year, is itself an exercise in Njikota: convening people, perspectives and generations; creating a space where difficult questions can be asked without fear, where differences need not become divisions, and where our shared heritage can become a platform for imagining a better future.
For this, I particularly commend the Founder and CEO of The AfrikaFora, Madam Winnifred Uloaku Gaillard. As Founding Patron of The AfrikaFora, I know firsthand something of the personal sacrifice, persistence and quiet labour that go into making these conversations possible year after year. Convening is easy to admire from the audience. It is considerably harder from behind the curtain. Nnukwu-Ada Uloaku, your commitment to keeping this platform alive and relevant deserves our gratitude and applause.
I also salute our new Grand Patron, Professor (Chief) Ben Etiaba, for stepping up to the plate and accepting the responsibility of helping to guide this important institution into its next chapter. Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, may have recently appointed you a Visiting Associate Professor, an honour on which we warmly congratulate you. But here among us, permit me to insist that a Chief remains a Chief! Chief Ben Etiaba, congratulations once again. I wish you wisdom, strength and every success in your role as Grand Patron of The AfrikaFora.
And perhaps there is something beautifully appropriate about this transition itself: a Founder who continues to convene, a Founding Patron who makes way, a new Grand Patron who steps forward, and a community that continues the journey.
That, too, is Njikota.
No individual owns the mission. Each generation takes its turn, adds its strength, and passes the responsibility forward. So, at the end of Ikenga Day 2026, let us carry that spirit beyond this gathering. Let us recover the solidarity of our past without reproducing the divisions of our past. Let us transform memory into agency, grievance into reform, and regional solidarity into national coalition. Let us redefine Njikota for our time.
From Njikota for separation to Njikota for reconstruction. From togetherness against Nigeria to togetherness to remake Nigeria. Not the abandonment of Igbo identity, but the deployment of its finest values in the service of a more just federation.
Because perhaps the Nigerian idea will not ultimately be saved by asking its peoples to become less Yoruba, less Hausa, less Ijaw, less Tiv or less Igbo. Perhaps it will be saved when each brings the finest values of their civilisation to the common table.
For Ndigbo, one of those gifts is Njikota. And this may be our moment to offer it to Nigeria.
Dalụ nụ.
Chukwu gozie unu.
Chukwu gozie Alaigbo.
Chukwu gozie Nigeria.
