Memoir

I will never get the horrific image out of my head, there he dangled looking so fragile and lifeless...

I always ask myself, what could I have done? Could I have been more supportive or understanding? What prevented him to commit such an abomination?

The day my dear companion Okonkwo took his life, was the day when it struck me that our society had truly fallen apart. You see, it all began when the missionaries stepped foot onto our home soil and eliminated our treasured and valued culture and traditions. At first I saw that there was no issue with the missionaries wanting to preach their religion, Christianity, (as everyone has a right to do so) but once the Christian's embedded their thoughts and ideas into our heads, the majority of us were converted in the blink of an eye. After having this eat away at me, I came to the conclusion that the missionaries came to Umofia with both determination and confidence in their eyes. Through the death of Okonkwo, it was evident to me that in a sense the missionaries had won. How was I so blind to this? They had shown up one day out of the blue and declared that we give up our culture and traditions and join theirs, they did not seem to understand that our culture was what made us who we are and that without it well... we would essentially be nothing. We fought and fought in order to preserve what was so near and dear to us, but unfortunately they won and took one of us with them.