Citation: Nwachukwu, M.D. (2026). Sacred Justice and Communal Law: Amadioha’s Archetypes as an Instrument of Indigenous Jurisprudence in Esiaba Irobi’s The Other Side of the Mask and Nwokedi. Tasambo Journal of Language, Literature, and Culture, 5(1), 155-164. www.doi.org/10.36349/tjllc.2026.v05i01.010.
SACRED JUSTICE AND COMMUNAL LAW: AMADIOHA’S
ARCHETYPES AS AN INSTRUMENT OF INDIGENOUS JURISPRUDENCE IN ESIABA IROBI’S THE
OTHER SIDE OF THE MASK AND NWOKEDI
Maduabuchi Davids Nwachukwu, PhD
Clifford University Owerrinta, (Ihie Campus),
Abia State, Nigeria
Email: maduabuchidavidsnwachukwu@gmail.com or maduabuchinwachukwu@clifforduni.edu.ng
Phone Number: +2348063829396
Abstract
Keywords: Alternative Dispute Resolution, Amadioha, Igbo Worldview, Traditional Justice
Introduction
Sacred justice and communal
law represent interconnected systems where divine authority merges with
community-based legal practices to create comprehensive frameworks for social
order. These traditional justice systems operate on the principle that legal
authority originates from spiritual sources, rendering law enforcement both a
civic and a religious duty. In many African traditional societies, including
Igbo communities, justice is not merely a human institution but a sacred
responsibility that connects the earthly realm with the divine will, where
deities like Amadioha, among the Igbo, are archetypally conceptualised as
“God’s minister of Justice.” Iwe (1989,
p. 14). Amadioha, the Igbo deity of thunder and justice, serves as a prime
archetype of how divine forces actively participate in maintaining social order
through both spiritual intervention and community-based legal structures. This
integration of sacred and communal elements creates justice systems that address
not only the immediate needs of conflict resolution but also the deeper
spiritual and social harmony required for community survival.
However, the colonial
imposition of British legal systems fundamentally disrupted centuries-old
African justice mechanisms that had effectively maintained social order through
spiritual and community-based accountability. Before colonialism, traditional
deities like Amadioha and Sango served as administrators of justice within
their respective cultural spaces, with their methods of conflict resolution
based on principles of truth and impartiality that effectively checked
corruption and lawlessness (Nwachukwu et al., 2019). They, Nwachukwu et
al. (2019), contend also that the colonial adoption of British common law as
Nigeria's primary legal framework completely jettisoned these traditional
African justice systems, which had successfully managed disputes and conflicts
within African socio-cultural contexts for generations. This displacement of
indigenous legal traditions has created lasting consequences for Nigeria's
justice system, contributing directly to many of the ambiguities and
inconsistencies in adjudication and justice delivery experienced in
contemporary Nigeria. The colonial legal transformation not only removed
effective traditional mechanisms for maintaining social order but also created
a legal system that many Nigerians find culturally disconnected from their
understanding of justice, truth, and community accountability.
The archetypes of Amadioha, the Igbo thunder god and
justice, have also inspired some Nigerian writers in their creative
exploration. His impact is felt in the Igbo worldview as
he retributively metes justice to anyone who violates communal ethics or
subverts the free will of the people. Consequently, Amadioha is seen as the
guardian of the people’s collective will. Isidore Diala (2005) identifies
Amadioha’s fundamental nature and asserts its known characteristics as the god
of thunder, lightning, and justice.
Arinze (1970)
observes that Amadioha:
The spirit of
thunder has widespread influence in Iboland and has such different local names
as Igwe, Kamalu and Ofufe. Those struck by thunder are not mourned, a most
serious censure among the social Ibos. Such people are believed to have received the just reward of their atrocities.
The corpse is not carried into the house, and sacrifices must be offered at the
fatal spot. The most notorious thing about Amadioha is his grim policy of
seizing all the possessions of its victims (p.16).
Arinze’s
assertion substantiates the characteristic of Amadioha as a god who dispenses
justice, which is not accidental but a conscious retribution on its victims for
their evil deeds. It justifies as well the societal reaction to the corpses of
its victims, which are not accorded normal burial rites because such deaths are
viewed as accursed, a vindictive vengeance from the god for their (the victims
of Amadioha) transgressions. Maduka (1998, p. 242) corroborates the fact that
Amadioha has other local variant names, as he identifies Kamalu as another name of Amadioha.
Iwe (1989,
p. 14) makes an observation that validates Arinze’s perception that victims of
Amadioha are perceived as ill-fated, as Amadioha is perceived as “a divinity of vengeance against the wicked
and evildoers.” The victims of Amadioha, he further argues, are not given
proper burial as their movable properties are also forfeited. A death
that results from Amadioha is seen as an aberration and must have a negative
cosmological consequence, for no one would like to associate with the victims
of Amadioha’s wrath, or with their properties, for the gods have singled out
such persons for divine punishment. That is why Amadioha is regarded as “God’s
minister of Justice.” The widespread influence of Amadioha, as Arinze noted, is
viewed from the “supremeness” point of view by Chukwukere (1983, p. 527), who
identifies Amadioha as the “supreme deity’ of negative sanctions for a class of
heinous offences.” This observation indicates the “supremeness” of each god in
Igbo cosmology. Amadioha is viewed as a
supreme god when it comes to the manifestation of thunder and lightning,
especially in using thunder, which Diala (1993, p. 56) identifies as
“Amadioha’s mortal voice” and lightning as a tool to sanction and enforce
social justice. Zeus, the Greek god of
thunder, as Redmond (2009) points out in the writings of the Greek poet Homer,
is represented as the god of justice and mercy, the protector of the weak, and
the punisher of the wicked. These two very different ways of viewing Zeus are
synonymous with other thunder gods like Amadioha or Ṣàngó, as they
are also viewed as the protector and defender of the defenceless, as well as
the punisher of the wicked. Awolalu (1976, p. 286) extends these identified characteristics of Ṣàngó and Amadioha to other African
thunder gods like ‘Sokogba among Nupe, Xeviosa among the Dahomeans’ as
‘anti-wickedness divinities … who detest stealing, witchcraft, sorcery and
other vicious crimes. When men incur the displeasure of such divinities, they
are singled out for punishment.
Awolalu’s
assertion denotes that thunder gods, despite being protector gods, do not kill
for the sake of killing or for asserting their positions as gods to be feared
or revered. Rather, they single out and punish their victims to serve as a
deterrent to others who may want to indulge in any of the wicked acts that may
jeopardise the communal and peaceful co-existence of the people. Therefore, the
presence of these gods in Africa, nay, the world, guarantees peace and harmony
as the society believes in the existence of a god that protects from the evil
machinations of the wicked. Emmanuel Nzeata[1]
also describes Amadioha as a benevolent god who does not kill indiscriminately.
Even when one swears falsely in an oath, Amadioha would rather send his
emissaries, which include: a giant millipede also known as Esu Oka Amadioha (Amadioha giant/long millipede), a black snake (Osukpo), and beehives (Ibi aṅu) to the
house of his victim. If the person fails to understand or decode these signs
and quickly appease Amadioha, such a person will then be killed. But if the
person accepts culpability and quickly appeases Amadioha, Amadioha will forgive
the person. Nzeata (2016) argues that Ala, the Earth Goddess, is more
malevolent and ferocious than Amadioha. Also, he notes that Ndi ndu muo (Amadioha’s acolytes) can
also preside over sacrifices and do the duty of the chief priest when the chief
priest is not around. He further maintains that the presence of Amadioha makes
the people calm, patient, just, and truthful in the traditional society.
However, he laments that the absence of Amadioha increases the level of
anti-social crimes in society.
In
addition to the vilifying nature of Amadioha’s victims, John Oparaocha (2004,
44) notes that:
Evil
people can be struck dead at a spot by [Amadioha] thunder. Such people are
burnt black outright. They are pushed down with a stick tied in bamboo and
thrown into the bad bush without a first or second burial [insertion mine].
Oparaocha
identifies that the corpse of Amadioha’s victims turns “black” and is shoved
down with sticks (because it is untouchable) and thrown into the evil forest.
Chukwuma Ndukwu[2]
(2016) also notes that Amadioha not only kills with thunder and lightning but
also kills his victims by drowning them or causing them to fall off a tree. The
victims of Amadioha’s wrath, whether by thunder and lightning, drowning, or
falling off a tree, are denied any type of burial rites. The denial of any type
of burial is because the death of one by Amadioha is considered a sacrilege
among the Igbo people. Understanding these systems requires examining
how divine archetypes, such as Amadioha, shape legal principles, how
communities translate sacred mandates into practical law, and how traditional
justice serves both individual accountability and the collective
well-being of a society.
Archetypes and Collective
Unconscious
The Archetypal theory, as Steven Walker (2002)
argues, gets its impetus from the psychologist Carl Jung, who postulated that
humans have a “collective unconscious”, a kind of universal psyche, which they
manifest in dreams and myths and which harbours themes and images that we all
inhabit. Since literature imitates not the world but rather “the total dream of
humankind” (p. 17). Jung called mythology “the textbook of archetypes”. Jung
(2013) argues that the “unconscious” is repressed or forgotten content. However,
the term “collective unconscious” comes from the fact that it is not individual
but universal in contrast to the personal psyche. “Archetypes”, he argues, are
the content of this “collective unconscious.” Jacobi (1968, p. 49) points out
that “the archetypes taken as a whole represent the sum of the latent
potentialities of the human psyche – a vast store of ancestral knowledge about
the profound relations between God, man, and cosmos.” Jacobi’s (1968)
observation supports Jung’s position that archetypes are primordial, collective
and as well universal because they are the “latent potentials” of every human.
(Gileva, 2021) underscores that Jung conceptualized archetypes according to
Averintsev (2003, pp. 110-111) as "primary schemes of images, reproduced
unconsciously and a priori, forming the activity of the imagination, and
therefore revealed in myths and beliefs, in works of literature and art, dreams
and delusional fantasies." However, Frye's (1973) conception of
archetype is literary is unlike the Jungian (psychologist) approach. He views
literature as an extension of mythology and archetypes as representations of
conventional myths and metaphors. Frye’s
approach treated archetypes as communicable symbols, making archetypal
criticism primarily concerned with literature as a social fact and mode of
communication (Xu et al.,2020).
Archetypal theory is often closely associated
with mythological criticism due to the intimate relationship between myth and
archetype (Mobarak, 2021). Osuafor
(2001) argues that “Myth criticism is related to interpretation and evaluation
of recreation or recurrence of motifs in a work of art” (p.64). Osuafor (2001,
p. 64) further indicates that: “Motif in Literature is treated as a pattern of
imagery and symbolism.” The recurring motif of justice and impartiality as
Amadioha’s archetypes is rooted in the texts explored
Amadioha: The Archetype of Justice and Law
Enforcement
Amadioha’s
archetype of justice and law enforcement is captured through Jamike in The Other Side of the Mask, a play that
explores narcissism, politics of favouritism and rejection, and the pains that
follow it. Jamike is a lecturer who doubles as a carver and the priest of Amadioha
(after his father). He believes he reincarnates the spirits of his father, thus:
“I believe I am a spirit, my father’s spirit, which is why I carve out of spiritual reserve” (Esiaba
1999, p. 99). He also reveals that:
… the lot
to tend this god fell on me as the one who took to my father’s trade. And
secondly, all my life, it has been my undying wish to redeem from nature what
the cosmos took from man. ((Esiaba 1999, 103)
Unlike his
father, Jamike studied Art and made a first-class honour before becoming a
lecturer. However, he still follows his father’s trade as a carver and also a
priest of Amadioha. As a carver, his muse, Zhipora, sees “him as god!” The
representation of Jamike as a god is projected because he sculpts and carves
figures that he calls “his children” (Esiaba 1999, p. 29). Jamike identifies
Amadioha as his patron god thus: "the god of carvers” (Esiaba 1999, p. 100).
To Kamuche, Jamike’s brother, Amadioha is “the god of justice … if solicited,
he can send thunder and lightning to one’s enemies” (Esiaba 1999, p. 29).
Jamike’s six years of denial of laurels by the panel judges which includes two
of his colleague lecturers- Animalu, the Panel’s Secretary, and Prof. Njemanze,
the Chairman, puts him in a dilemma of “self”
apprehension on whether he is a good carver or the judges deny him accolade
since he is young and could as well try some other time. He is apprehensive of
injustice and thus summons Amadioha to mediate between him and the judges.
Jamike involves Amadioha because Amadioha is the “virile god” that sends
lightning to kill the evil spirits who inhabit the trees from which carvers hew
their wood. A potent god that “… settles disputes and dispenses justice ….
[through] lightning” (Esiaba 1999, p. 101).
Dr.
Animalu, the first victim of Amadioha’s intervention, dies rashly in the hands
of Jamike, the priest of Amadioha (not the carver), who wears a mask
(Amadioha’s costume) and kills him with a chisel (Amadioha’s weapon). The
potency of the mask as Amadioha’s costume is revealed from the dialogue between
Prof. Njemanze and Jamike:
Njemanze: Who
carved that mask?
Jamike: My
father did.
Njemanze: What is
it for?
Jamike: For
tending Amadioha and doing his will.
Njemanze: What is
his will?
Jamike: The will of a god varies from season to season. Occasionally,
he demands blood. At other times, life.
Njemanze: Life? How
does he ask for life?
Jamike: Through
his festivals (Esiaba 1999, p.105-106)
Therefore,
whenever Jamike wears the mask, he is possessed. He does the will of Amadioha,
which sometimes requires the spilling of blood. It is in this possessed state
that he slices the throat of a white cock and soliloquises:
But the god is naked
and must wear a mask. He must wear a garment of wood on his face to smear the
earth with blood. He must wear a mask for the glint of steel in the sunset, and
the sight of blood is a trying thing for the human eye. It tempts the hand to
kill, to spill some more (Esiaba 1999, p. 107)
Jamike, in
this intense situation, takes up the role of Amadioha, the god he serves. He
spills the blood of those who try to subvert justice. Jamike wonders how Dr.
Animalu, the Panel’s Secretary, who always writes off his presentations as
irrelevant and immaterial, comes to take a photograph of the same artwork for
his article in the “African Arts Magazine”
(Esiaba 1999, p. 55). Dr Animalu, a chronic womaniser, who always moistens his
“revolutionary weapon with the pomade nature reserved between the thighs of
women” (Esiaba 1999, p. 78), crosses the line when he amorously approaches
Elesie, Jamike’s abandoned fiancée, against Jamike’s warning, and takes her to
the balcony where they laugh loudly to the chagrin of Jamike. Their laughter
reminds Jamike of how the judges always laugh and make caricatures of his
exhibitions. Accumulated anger and jealousy push Jamike to think of avenging
the atrocities meted out to him by the judges.
He reveals to Zhipora, his muse, that: “As an artist, I must transcend
life by creating life, but if the world will neither let me create life nor
appreciate it even when I have created life, then I must destroy life” (Esiaba
1999, p. 73). This confession of Jamike indicates what facilitates the rash
killing of a fellow lecturer and friend despite the culpability of Dr.
Animalu. Amadioha even kills his priest
when they subvert justice. The death of Jamike through the chisel, the
instrument of Amadioha, and his confirmation thus: “… if Amadioha hadn’t
murdered me … if I had lived … I would have conquered the world. With this
chisel … this chisel with which I murdered my friend…my friend….” (Esiaba 1999,
p. 98) illustrates the double-fold judgement meted out by Amadioha to either
the guilty or the summoned. Amadioha, as a dispenser of justice, does not
condone his own (even his priests) when they make mistakes or discriminate when
justice is to be given. Jamike, the priest of Amadioha, is found culpable of overreaction
and jealousy during the time Dr. Animalu is killed. It also illustrates that
Amadioha, as the dispenser of justice, may as well kill the person who
subpoenas him (even as his priest) in his bid to dispense justice. Eze (2000)
argues that this makes Amadioha a just and impartial arbitrator. Jamike’s
confession, “…if Amadioha hadn’t murdered me” also reveals a new horizon of
understanding from his previous apprehensions. In this horizon, he concludes
that he, himself, murdered his friend, Dr. Animalu, despite wearing Amadioha’s
costume, and that is why Amadioha kills him too.
In Nwokedi, a play that explores
desperation to cling to political power by Nwokedi Senior and his son-in-law,
Arikpo, as well as a need to mediate and enforce justice in their
constituencies. The justice and law enforcement archetypes of Amadioha are
captured through the character of Nwokedi and the death of Senators Nwokedi
Senior and Arikpo at the hands of the masked Nwokedi, who plays the role of
Amadioha in the drama. The desperation of Nwokedi Senior to keep a
parliamentary seat and his attendant paranoia of losing is captured by Mrs
Nwokedi:
Yes. He
believes the whole world is against him. That everybody wants to run him down.
That even his political companions have connived to wipe him out. That is why
he brought this Ikurube (she picks up the
effigy) and forced them to swear (Esiaba 1991, p. 14)
The
coercion of his political associates, together with his family members, to
swear to Amadioha goes contrary to the archetypal nature of Amadioha, as Iwe (1989,
p. 14) observes. The god, Amadioha, represents the collective will of the
people, and the people have spoken with their votes against his candidacy.
Forcing everybody to swear is an affront to Amadioha’s archetypal nature, which
is justice. The just nature of Amadioha abhors injustice, and forcing people to
swear against their will is one. Therefore, Nwokedi Senior’s action has a
retributive effect on anyone amongst them who is guilty. Amadioha will not even
overlook the person who summons him if he is found culpable of the crime he has
called Amadioha to adjudicate. The death of Senator Nwokedi Senior at the hands
of masked and fortified Nwokedi, a god, exemplifies the just nature of
Amadioha. As the UFO Bearer rightly points out, “A man never sees the lightning
that strikes him down” (Esiaba 1991, p. 93), Nwokedi Senior never anticipates
that he will be guilty of the charges he levels against his political
associates, even his wife. People go to Amadioha to swear to vindicate them
from the crime they are accused of. However, Nwokedi Senior changes the order
and forces them to swear against their will.
Amadioha, the god of thunder and lightning, strikes him down through his
son, Nwokedi, who acts at the impulse of the god he represents. The death of
Nwokedi Senior illustrates that Amadioha here not only renders justice but also
enforces it.
Senator
Arikpo, on the other hand, loses his parliamentary seat because of the
unfulfilled promises he made to his constituency. Nwokedi also suspects that
the death of his sister and her three children is the handiwork of him. He
accuses Senator Arikpo: “… Senator Arikpo, I put it to you that you burnt
Ezinna and her three children. That you used them as the ingredients of a
ritual sacrifice to fortify your political career” (Esiaba 1991, p. 62-63).
However, Senator Arikpo’s response, “Can you prove it in the court?” suggests
culpability. He, Senator Arikpo, knows that Nwokedi’s mere suspicion that the
ash in the box he brings home is black instead of human ash that should be grey
may not be admissible in a law court. That is why he boldly questions Jamike’s
position. Umejiaku
and Uzoka (2023) argue that “The major factor in ascertaining the guilt or
innocence of an accused person is evidence. This is in tandem with the common
legal cliché of ‘he who asserts must prove.” They further contend that “for
there to be a criminal conviction, there must be a piece of evidence to
establish the fact that the accused committed the alleged crime” (p.85). The
evidence-based adjudication that is paramount in the Nigerian legal system is
quite different from the precolonial conscience-based adjudication premised by deities
like Amadioha.
Nwokedi,
in his dialogue with Arikpo:
Nwokedi: You look
like a ram to me.
Arikpo: A ram?
Nwokedi: A
sacrificial ram.
Arikpo: Who do
you mean?
Nwokedi: (twisting the blade) I mean, a
constipated destiny is staring you in the face (Esiaba 1991, p. 71)
This
reveals that Amadioha’s justice is inevitable if Arikpo is found guilty of the
accusations levelled against him by Nwokedi. Though Nwokedi will not kill him
deliberately, but if he is “masked” as his mother points out, he will become
“the spirit in the mask. The one that cuts the head of the ram at the festival”
(Esiaba 1991, p. 71), even Nwokedi acknowledges that:
A new mask
brings a new spirit (points at Arikpo),
the spirits of the dead. (frenziedly)
They have brought out the mask from the rafters of the shrine. The priest has
shorn it of root and dirt (displays it).
I have brought out the ancient matchet. It has shaken hands with the whetting
stone. The earth is panting like a tired dog. The world is waiting for a new
life. The land awaits its spill of blood. Arikpo, are you not this ram bleating
at the shrine? (Esiaba 1991, p. 75)
The
question Nwokedi asks Arikpo shows that Nwokedi is not too sure whether Arikpo
is culpable of the crime he accuses him of or not. It is a kind of fair hearing
given to the accused to either justify or indict oneself. However, whenever Nwokedi puts on the mask
and becomes “the spirit in the mask”, justice will be meted out to whoever is
responsible for the death of his sister and her three children. This time,
there will be no time to invalidate the verdict of the gods because the time
for a fair hearing has ended, and it is time for judgment.
Arikpo
later acknowledges to Mrs Nwokedi, when he hears that the military has taken
over power, that the death of his wife and three children “are the price a man
paid for power” (Esiaba 1991, p. 88). He asks for forgiveness from Mrs Nwokedi.
However, three members of the Ekumeku
take him away, where his head is severed by the masked Nwokedi, who acts on the
impulse of Amadioha.
The death
of Senator Arikpo, son-in-law to Senator Nwokedi Senior, who murders his wife
and three children, as well as Nwokedi Senior, who forces his political
associates to swear to Amadioha when he, himself, fails to fulfil his previous
electoral promises, “archetypally” portrays the enforcement of judgment he,
Amadioha, has given.
Amadioha and the Collective Unconscious
Prof.
Njemanze, the chairman of the panel and an intellectual, doubts the sanity of
Jamike. However, Kamuche, Jamike’s brother, reassures him “that there is
nothing wrong with him upstairs” because “he still tends Amadioha, their
“family god” (Esiaba 1999, p. 45). Prof.
Njemanze also doubts the potency of Amadioha and how an intellectual like
Jamike still believes in the potency of a mundane god. However, Jamike warns
him that: “Amadioha defies intellectuality” (Esiaba 1999, p.101). To
re-establish the potency of Amadioha, Jamike, through incantations and ritual
masking that follow the invocation of Amadioha, brings forth the power of
Amadioha in the presence of the don. When Jamike asks him: “Do you now realise
how potent Amadioha is?” (Esiaba 1999, p. 102), the don affirms: “I do” (Esiaba
1999, p. 102). After the affirmation of Amadioha’s potency by the don, Jamike
asks him: “Prof., do you want me to call your name, the names of other judges
and mine (sic) own name. And then summon Amadioha to mediate between us?” (Esiaba
1999, p.103) The dreaded nature of Amadioha is further revealed in this
dialogue:
Njemanze:
(shrivelling) How can you do that type of
thing?
Jamike:
Prof., let’s try it out.
Njemanze: Jamike,
will you stop that nonsense?
Jamike: (squats) Where is the other egg?
Njemanze:
(kneeling) Please, Jamike, don’t.
Jamike:
(stands) Anyway, I have already done
that.
Njemanze: Done what, Jamike,
done what?
Jamike: Prof., I mentioned
your name, the names of the other judges and my name before the incantations.
So if I am wrong in my assertions about the quality of my works, I will die
tonight, but if I am right, if the judges have used my genitals as a rope to
tie me to the tether of failure, the judges will die all tonight. Including you,
Prof!
Njemanze: (sweating) Jamike, but can you do this to me? How can you? After all
I have done for you? How can you? (Esiaba 1999, p.103-104).
Njemanze’s
sweating and panting reveal the existence of the “collective unconscious”
nature of Amadioha in the repressed mind of the don. Despite Njemanze’s attempt
to repress the just nature of Amadioha through the acquisition of a Western
education, as he rhetorically reveals through his question to Kamuche: “Is
tending your family god an index of sanity or insanity?” (Esiaba 1999, p.45),
and as well, through his interrogation of Jamike: “Surely you don’t mean to
tell me you still believe in all these disembodied god-heads. An intellectual”
(Esiaba 1999, p. 100), shows how repressed his “civilised” mind is. However,
the repressed reverence and respect for Amadioha still manifest when Jamike
mentions his name and some other judges for Amadioha’s arbitration. Prof.
Njemanze, with fear, rhetorically asks, “Why?” When Jamike insists that he has
mentioned Njemanze’s name together with other judges, Prof. Njemanze kneels and
begins to plead with him. Jamike allays his fear by telling him that he also
mentioned his own name during the incantations and assures Prof. that the
culprit among them will be struck dead by thunder and lightning before
midnight. Njemanze, on hearing of the judgement of Amadioha, begins to sweat
and starts to preach forgiveness, reminding Jamike of how he has forgiven him
after he, Jamike, tried to seduce his daughter. Immediately, Jamike removes the
mask and becomes Jamike, the artist, and not the priest who is possessed by
Amadioha; he finds it difficult to recollect whether he had mentioned the name
of Njemanze. However, Prof. Njemanze, who is now relieved, says, “Thank you” (Esiaba
1999, p. 104).
Jamike
puts on the mask again and says: “Prof., I did. I mentioned your name. And the
god heard your name” (Esiaba 1999, p. 104).
Prof. becomes more hysterical and asks: “Jamike, why? Why? Why?” (Esiaba
1999, p. 104) Jamike removes the mask for the second time, smiles, and says:
“Anyway, I did not” (Esiaba 1999, p. 105). Professor Njemanze, in his usual
manner, thanks him again. However, Jamike sincerely tells Njemanze that:
Prof., to be candid,
I cannot remember if I mentioned your name or not. You know I was possessed.
And under possession, grievances borne in the mind often leap out of the
sub-conscious like tadpole in a boiling point (Esiaba 1999, p. 105)
Jamike
could as well act out his personal vendetta on anyone that offends him deeply
when “grievances borne in the mind often leap out of the subconscious”. The
killing of Dr. Animalu is an example. However, Jamike reminds Njemanze that
time will tell whether he, Jamike, has mentioned his (Prof. Njemanze’s) name or
not.
In Nwokedi also, Nwokedi Senior, the father
of Nwokedi, shows the “collective unconsciousness’” when he takes his case to a
law court and as well summons, “Amadioha! The god of thunder, lightning and
rain. The most potent Ikurube in this
village” (Esiaba 1991, p. 9) to mediate between him and: “… all his political
aides: the village councillors, the polling officers, members of his party, to
swear to Amadioha that they had no hand in his failure at the elections”
(Esiaba 1991, p. 9) [Bold and italicise; original]. Nwokedi Senior summons
Amadioha because he believes that Amadioha will render justice to him and bring
to justice those who worked against him. He does this because he fails to
decipher how he can lose his senatorial seat to Ozoemena Nwakanma, whom Mrs
Nwokedi, his wife, describes as: “An unemployed young man. Nwokedi’s age-mate.
He graduated from the university five years ago with a degree in Political
Science. But until this moment, he has not found job” (Esiaba 1991, p. 9).
Nwokedi Senior even forces his wife “to swear” (Esiaba 1991, p. 14) to Amadioha
in their bedroom that she, too, does not have a hand in his electoral failures.
He could as well force his son, Nwokedi, to swear, but his son is far away in
Bakalori serving the nation as a Youth Corps member. The action of Nwokedi
Senior shows that he has not purged himself of the primordial, collective
unconscious of his ancestral beliefs in Amadioha as a god of justice. It is
because of this belief that he takes his case to the court and as well as the traditional
justice administration system typified by Amadioha. Nwokedi Senior’s actions
show his level of desperation to keep his seat in the parliament and how
Amadioha still recurs in his collective unconscious despite being a
parliamentarian who makes and enacts the “modern” law.
Conclusion
The paper
discovers that the dreaded nature of Amadioha has not been totally purged from
the collective unconscious of the postcolonial African mind. The archetypes of
Amadioha: justice, fearsomeness, fairness, and equity still replicate in the
lives of postcolonial characters like Jamike, Nwokedi, Professor Njemanze,
Kamuche, Nwokedi Senior, and Mrs Nwokedi. Notwithstanding these characters’ immersion
in Western beliefs/worldviews, they still fear and trust the archetypes of
Amadioha. The potency of Amadioha, as
revealed in the texts analysed, is undoubtedly positive for conflict resolution
and the determination of justice in the African socio-cultural space. Amadioha
is still effective as portrayed by the postcolonial characters in the drama
analysed. Therefore, Amadioha can also be the arbitrator to reckon with in
postcolonial Africa.
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