"I
finally met Mr. Achebe in person years later in New York. When he
entered the room, everybody froze in reverence. He was not a physical
giant with a booming voice. He was a gentle needle that sewed tattered
clothes, a minuscule scorpion's tail that packed venom. He answered
every question with the precision of a sniper. He was a man who spoke
gently, yet he was a writer "in whose company the prison walls fell
down," as Nelson Mandela said.
Mr. Achebe was a source of pride
to many Nigerians, an elder we could point to when the world laughed at
our shortcomings. We often invoked his name like that of a fierce god.
Beyond his literary prowess, Mr. Achebe was known to stand for what he
believed in. When those who did not know the African story told it to
glorify themselves, he rose like a lion and thwarted the hunter's tales
with truth. Not only did he fight back against the mistelling of our
story by white explorers; he equipped other writers to do the same."
- Victor Ehikhamenor perches atop the iroko tree and sings the praises of the great one Chinua Achebe
- Ikhide
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