My Creek Town Experience

My Creek Town Experience

By Enuma Chigbo

&ldquoGet ready, we are going on a tour in a few days,&rdquo said my friend Efa. &ldquoReally, where are we going?&rdquo I sneered,&rdquo I had known Efa for quite a while now and had gotten acquainted to his strange sense of humour. His idea of going on a tour could have jolly well been roping me into running some silly errand for him - you know how men can be sometimes...but somehow, I agreed... I had nothing to lose...or did I? True to his word Efa picked me up that fine Sunday afternoon, &ldquoWe are going to the Marina&rdquo, he said, and &ldquoFrancine and Ima will be joining us.&rdquo This is getting interesting. I thought...we are really going on a tour. The big question was, where on earth were we going? I had been to the Marina before. It&rsquos a delightful place tucked away in the serene city of Calabar. Yes, it is indeed an awesome sight to behold, but I had been there and done that. From watching the little cherubs laugh without a care in the world, as they swirled round the state of the art merry go round, to the horrific yet didactic tour of the Slave Museum, and of course dining at the exotic Cal-a bar Restaurant. I was not impressed. Surely, Efa could have done better than this. I&rsquod rather be having a sweet nap on my rugged couch after a heavy Sunday lunch.

Ima and Francine walk up to us all cheery, carrying a cooler full of drinks. Now where are we really going I wondered? &ldquoWe are going on a boat ride to Creek Town,&rdquo Efa says as if reading my thoughts as he hands us our life jackets. &ldquoWould you like to jet ski?&rdquo He asks as we all attempt to lift our not so agile limbs into our boat. Jet ski... hmm...na wa o, these people have no idea who they are dealing with...okada on the high sea? No thanks! Yes, call me archaic, bush, boring et al, but nothing would make me mount that contraption. Take me to my boat please!!!

Just as we all managed to get into our boat, the weather changed. It began to drizzle...now who did that horrible prince of the air connive with this time to deter us mere mortals from getting to our destination? We were forced to alight from the boat, but thankfully got back on a few minutes later. The drizzle was exactly what it was...a mere drizzle, which lasted for less than five minutes. The prince of the air had been defeated and we were back on track.  Creek Town here we come! Efa, being a whole lot more adventurous than the rest of us boring women, said he would meet us on the other side in his okada.

The 20 something minute boat ride to Creek town was one of the most fascinating experiences I had ever had. Yes I had been on boat rides before but this was different. The waters were calm...so calm that I was almost tempted to do what My Master Jesus did...get out of the boat and walk on the still waters. But...I didn&rsquot...you know how these things are now...indeed, oh me of little faith...Anyway, the vast expanse of water and lush vegetation on each side was simply breathtaking. It was like cruising down a plush avenue. Even more fascinating were the estuaries that peeped through the thick forests dotted at various points on each side of the majestic waters. I stretched out my neck each time we passed one wondering where they led, but perished the thought almost immediately as my mind began to conjure up some eerie images. Yes, I imagined those sinister marine like places depicted in our very own home videos, where some queen or king of the kingdom who had trapped many a destiny was waiting to manifest, and decided not to think any further! However, I could not help but be enthralled at the smoothness, the beauty and serenity of our boat ride...until the driver and boat decided to do a tap dance in the waters just before we arrived at Creek Town. Perhaps it was their own little way of welcoming us to Creek Town, but quite frankly, we were not amused!

&ldquoJesus! Jesus!&rdquo Ima screamed, almost to the rhythm of the tap dance. I screamed my own Jesus on the inside. I had to stay calm. Ha! Who was I fooling? Finally, the &lsquoentertainment&rsquo came to a standstill and we were all quite relieved to get out of the boat and into Creek Town.

&ldquoI hope you ladies don&rsquot mind walking,&rdquo Efa said, having met us on the other side and tethered his okada, totally oblivious to our mild drama earlier. We did not. The walk round Creek Town was an interesting adventure on its own.  Creek Town is a quaint little village but smacks of extreme poverty. We saw buildings that were erected in the 19^th century. &ldquoThe buildings you see are pre fabricated&rdquo, he said...interesting. &ldquoThis was one of the most celebrated places, said Efa.&rdquo He referred to Eyo Ema Ekon II&rsquos house. Son of Eme Attah and from a family line of king makers, Eyo Ema Ekon II was said to be the Chief Priest of the highest Efik deity, (Ndem Efik Iboku) back in the 19^th century. The Efiks were said to have migrated long before then from Nubia, near Egypt. Eyo Ema Ekon II was said to have migrated from Uduan now known as Akwa Ibom. He was an extremely successful trader and fisherman even before advent of the white man to that area. Further business collaborations with the white man culminated in an explosion of commerce in that area.  The materials of the house in which he lived were said to be imported from Scotland &ndash stained glass windows, top of range wall finishing and exquisite furniture. In front of his house, and a few metres away stood a huge bell, remnant of yet another fine building belonging to King Eyo Honesty II. Sadly Honesty&rsquos house was burned down in 1856. He rebuilt it but it was burned yet again after his demise in 1858.

 Back in the day, this compound was the place to be. This was where the grandest parties were held &ndash a place of sheer opulence. Utang Ibok Eyo Ita, Eyo Ema Ekon&rsquos 69 year old grand niece remembers the good old days with nostalgia. She recounts the numerous dances and celebrations that were a regular occurrence when her great uncle was still alive. Every day was one big party. However, today the house is a shadow of its former self, and Ita the caretaker hardly looks like she experienced the good life. All she seems to have are memories and a middle aged alcoholic of a son who apparently has illusions about who he really is. &ldquoI am a Civil Engineer,&rdquo he boasts, never mind that he does not have a University Degree... &ldquoI do practical engineering. I am involved with many building projects.&rdquo Pity... I think. This man is a charmer and should this family house be upgraded and perhaps other buildings in this area, his gift of the garb would make him the perfect tour guide, and perhaps his mum who is laden with arthritis and obviously very protective of her  great uncle&rsquos dilapidated house may have reason  to dance again...

Ita painfully points at a washed out turquoise bungalow nearby. There were houses all around until they were washed away by the floods in 2002 she said. What a pity...however I could not help but wonder if her &lsquoCivil Engineer&rsquo son had anything to do with the constructions...

Weeks later, I met a very special and perhaps intriguing person who told me more about Creek Town &ndash a son of the soil, and a direct link to the old monarchs. My link to this man, amiable tour guide Charles kindly offered to take me to his house. &ldquoWe are going to see Elder Efiong Aye,&rdquo Charles said. &ldquoHe is 91 years old.&rdquo Oh dear I had to brace myself. I had rehearsed in my mind how to behave...almost double over as a gesture of respect to this aged man who was probably hard of hearing and whose eye sight had grown dim &ndash a natural phenomenon for most people that age. I would speak slowly and choose my words carefully...you never know what may set him off. &ldquoYou are most welcome,&rdquo said this incredibly agile and jovial man as he ushered us to our seats in his office &ndash a living room converted to a library. It was clearly obvious what his number one passion was. &ldquoWithout these books I will go mad!&rdquo He said. His first book was published in 1967. &ldquoAre there other people who live here with you?&rdquo I asked, not very sure where I was going with that question. &ldquoOther people like who?&rdquo he responded, &ldquoAre you asking if I have a wife? You must learn to speak out!&rdquo He burst out laughing. &ldquoMy wife is not here right now. She is in Abuja.&rdquo &ldquoReally, how old is she?&rdquo I asked. &ldquoShe is 64, you see, you must learn to speak out!&rdquo He laughs again...so much for my choosing words carefully and doubling over in respect with Aye, you just tell it like it is!

 Aye comes from the line of Eyo&rsquos, his grandfather being Eyo Nsa Eyo Efiok IV, one of three brothers, Eyo Ibok V, Eyo Eyo II, who were also kings. According to Aye, Eyo Honesty II, whose house was burned down, laid the foundations of the stopping of the killing of twins in that area, creating the ideal platform for Scottish Missionary Mary Slessor to play the magnanimous role she played in this regard. Aye, a two time principal of Hope Waddell College, the oldest school in the country is currently reviewing the Efik bible for the Nigerian Bible Society. He started the research on Nubia in 1967 and the migration of the Efiks from that area.

 According to his book, Efik Origin a Refutation, Nubia in the ancient times was called &ldquoCush&rdquo by the Pharoah&rsquos and to the ancient Egyptians and the Greeks, it was known as &ldquoEthiopia.&rdquo From the beginning Cush was an appendage of Egypt. When Egypt was in its 21^st dynasty, it became weak and Cush threw off its Egyptian yoke, gained its freedom and moved capital from Meroe to Napata. But under its new rulers it conquered Egypt and established the 25^th Egyptian dynasty. Then established between Egypt and modern Ethiopia, Cush became a point of contact between various civilisations for some centuries. Having being converted in the sixth century AD by Christian missionaries from the Eastern Mediterranean, these Cushites of the Middle Nile changed the name of their country to Nubia. Christianity was deeply rooted in Nubia and it brought vast changes to the culture of the people. However after the invasion by Islam around 732 AD, all religious and cultural achievements of Nubia collapsed like an artificial structure on land forcing them out like refugees. It was in this group of refugees that the Efik ancestors of Nubian origin probably joined forces and left the country with the hope for a Canaan someday, working their way together from Nubia through Darfur to Lake Chad. After a while, they arrived at Arochukwu where they were warmly received and given a place of settlement. When they arrived at their final destination which would be Calabar where they would be on their own at last, they called it Canaan...Calabar is known as Canaan City today, and to distinguish these Efik settlements in Calabar: Duke Town, Cobham Town, Henshaw Town and Old Town, which nestled together along the left bank of the Calabar River, they were known as Iboku Utan, while Creek Town the Efik Metropolis, already concealed in the creek was known as Iboku Esit Edik...interesting...   

Anyway, back to my Creek Town journey. Our final destination was the Presbyterian Church, which was built in 1888. Clearly, it was well maintained unlike King Eyo&rsquos house. We even saw the first organ played in the church, said to be as old as the church itself.

Finally, it was time to leave. As we walked back to our boat, some of the residents of Creek Town approached us. They needed to know who we were. They were friendly though. The children seemed quite excited as they dove into the waters near our boat. &ldquoThis water is so dirty,&rdquo said a clearly disgusted Ima. &ldquoYes it is but sadly, this is their life.&rdquo I said. It is sad that they know no other means of livelihood...As we headed back to Calabar I had mixed feelings. The boat ride was exhilarating, some sights were indeed fascinating, but, I kept thinking about that 69 year old arthritis laden woman, who may or may never know what it is to live the good life again, her middle aged idle son who could jolly well be an additional burden to her, and of course the innocent little children...they swim daily in murky waters but radiate though it all...yes I had mixed feelings. Feelings of accomplishment having experienced all this in one single boat ride, and at the same time helplessness at not being able to do much about it. As usual, all kinds of thoughts flooded my mind but, they would have to wait. I had a very important text message to send...it was a thank you message to my friend Efa for my Creek Town experience...

Enuma Chigbo, a Media Consultant writes from Calabar and can be reached at enumachigbo@yahoo.co.uk