In the 1970s and 1980s, there were few but notable and popular mentally challenged people in Nnewi: Elegi, Ashia, Dilaw, Phoebe, Isele, Anagbo, Obumseluogu. There was something unique about them. None of them slept outside their homes. They would wake up, leave home, go to Nkwo Nnewi Market or any burial ceremony or marriage ceremony or other events nearby where they would get some alms and free food and drinks. At the end of the day, they would go home. Some would dance. Some would sing. Some would control traffic at the event. Some would enter the chartered bus to attend burials or marriage ceremonies with their kinsmen. In fact, Elegi was the bell ringer of his local church, St Michael’s Anglican Church, Inyaba, Umudim, Nnewi. In addition, the school bus of Okongwu Memorial Grammar School, Nnewi would never leave for any football competition if Elegi was not on the bus. No burial would hold in any part of Umudim without Elegi being present. It was the same thing for Ashia in Otolo – before any funeral or marriage ceremony or Igwe Nnewi Ofala would start, Ashia would land early and start patrolling the venue. They were ubiquitous.
In the early 1990s, anytime Elegi saw me returning from Nsukka with my travelling bag at the Nkwo Roundabout, he would dance for me, exclaim that “Umudim was finished,” tell me all the recent people that died recently, ask me to give him something. Once I gave him some money something to him, he would dance again, make his trademark sound “Ugheghu!” and then face other matters. Nobody knows how they got their information.
Secondly, they were not violent. They could be mischievous. But once they tried to go overboard, they would be warned to stop, especially by someone from their village or neighbourhood. And they would heed the warning. If they did something unusual, they would be reported to their family, and they would be disciplined.
In the early 80s, when a man from another town visited his son who lived in our house in Nnewi, he noted that there was no mad person in Nnewi. My parents asked him why, and he said that every person called a mad person in Nnewi returned to his or her house by dusk. “So how could such a person be called a mad person?” he asked.
His argument didn’t make sense to me at that time. As a little boy of about 10 years old, I thought that it was normal for every mentally challenged person to return home at dusk.
But all that was to change from the late 80s when Nnewi began to open up speedily as an industrial-cum-commercial town. More people trooped in.
I began to notice that there were new mentally challenged people in Nnewi. Some looked aggressive. Some looked clearly deranged from their dressing, looks, hairstyle and actions. But more interestingly, some never returned to anywhere at dusk. They lived in uncompleted houses or under the tree by the roadside. It was obvious that they came in from outside Nnewi.
One of them stayed under a tree opposite Edo Shrine by the current roundabout in front of Fidelity Bank on Edo-Ezemewi Road. She tied all manner of cloth around herself, which made her colourful in a strange way. She was always dancing and people passing by found her dance steps interesting. She was not violent. She greeted people around her and talked with people. With her bowl, she would approach those selling food nearby and ask for food. And they would oblige her.
She was known as Nwanyi Imo. Some said she was from Abia, which used to be in Imo State until 1991. But nobody knew the real name of her town of origin.
One morning in 1997, people came out for their daily business and noticed that Nwanyi Imo was not dancing or talking. Her body lay lifeless at the very spot where she had made her home for many years. Days passed but nobody came to claim the body of Nwanyi Imo as expected. Wherever the corpse of a mentally challenged person lies in Nnewi, his or her family members would go to pick it up and bury it properly. There is an Igbo proverb, which says that when a corpse starts to decompose, a friend that is supposedly better than a brother will flee. No family would allow the corpse of their relative to lie by the roadside.
Days passed but nobody came to claim the body of Nwanyi Imo. Nobody came to take her body away. Her body became to pose a health threat to those whose business premises were around there. So they had a meeting and decided to bury her. But there was a problem. Because of the lack of proper town planning in Nnewi, Nnewi has no cemetery. People bury their dead in their compounds. It is seen as abnormal to bury one’s dead relative outside the homestead. It is seen as if the corpse was thrown away.
It is therefore a big challenge for non-indigenes who live in Nnewi but have no land of theirs. If they want to bury their dead in Nnewi rather than take the corpse home, there is no cemetery where such can be done as is done in any organised and planned city or town.
So the Nkwo Nnewi market neighbours of Nwanyi Imo hired labourers to dig her grave at the spot where she died by the roadside. It is said that before her corpse was interred, some of those clothes she tied around her waist were unwound and wads of naira notes rolled out. Nwanyi Imo was saving the money she got from people.
Nwanyi Imo was buried and given her last respect by her neighbours.
That spot became Nwanyi Imo Bus Stop. Wherever you are in Nnewi and mention Nwanyi Imo Bus Stop, you would be taken straight to it. It is strategically located at the heart of the business district in Nnewi between the Nkwo Nnewi Market (motorcycle section) and Agbo Edo Market (motor vehicle section).
In spite of the big banks and businesses there, Nwanyi Imo took over that spot. She has overshadowed all the big brands and individuals that have businesses or property on that road. Like William Shakespeare says: “Some are born great; some achieve greatness; some have greatness thrust upon them.”
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