Col. Sylvanus Nwajei (Retd): His Life, Legacy, and Language of War – Part Three

 Col. Sylvanus Nwajei (Retd): His Life, Legacy, and Language of War – Part Three

By Emeka Esogbue

Every war leaves behind not only stories of battles fought but also lessons etched in memory, culture, and the voices of those who survived. For Col. Sylvanus Benedict Amaechi Nwajei, the journey from the barracks of Warri to the command fields of Biafra was not just about strategy and survival; it was about the enduring imprint of a people’s resilience and the language with which they interpreted their tragedy.

In Ibusa and across Anioma, elders recall that war was not fought only with rifles and bayonets but also with words, songs, and coded expressions that carried both warning and hope. For Nwajei, a disciplined soldier trained to British standards, this cultural backdrop remained inseparable from his military career. His story does not end with the gunfire of January 1970; it extends into how his generation narrated their loss, preserved their dignity, and transmitted the language of sacrifice to younger Anioma voices.

Yet, he carried with him something greater than bitterness: a determination to translate military discipline into civic life. In Benin, where he settled alongside compatriots such as Col. Mike Okwechime, he remained a quiet but respected figure, a mentor to younger men, a symbol of dignity for Anioma people, and a living memory of a generation of soldiers whose stories Nigeria often tried to forget.

The end of the Nigerian Civil War in January 1970 ushered in a new struggle for him and his fellow Biafran officers, the struggle for reintegration. Stripped of rank, subjected to suspicion, and denied the recognition accorded to their federal counterparts, these men had to craft new lives in a country still bearing the scars of conflict.

For Nwajei, surrender at Asaba was not the end of his story, but the beginning of a quieter, more reflective phase. Returning first to Ibusa and later settling in Benin City with his family, he embraced the difficult process of rebuilding his life as a retired soldier. Unlike many who sank into obscurity or bitterness, he carried himself with dignity, devoting his energies to family, his Ibusa community, and service outside the barracks.

In Benin, where a number of Anioma ex-officers also found refuge, he became part of a small but resilient circle of post-war veterans who refused to let their contributions be forgotten. His military training, discipline, and deep belief in Anioma resilience shaped his outlook in civilian life. Friends and contemporaries recall him not as a defeated officer, but as a mentor, a man who balanced the memory of war with the responsibilities of peace.

Still, the Anioma experience was marked by despondency. Soldiers like Nwajei, Albert Okonkwo, Henry Igboba, and Conrad Nwawo crossed into Biafra to fight for the Eastern cause rather than defend their Anioma homeland in the Midwest. The decision, shaped by Ojukwu’s ill-fated Midwest invasion, invited catastrophe. Federal troops under Murtala Muhammed’s 2nd Division responded with vengeance, unleashing massacres in Asaba, Isheagu, Ogwashi-Uku, and beyond, a tragedy unprecedented in African history. Eyewitnesses recall youths from Idumuje-Unor being rounded up, trucked to Asaba, and executed as part of the pogrom.

No soldier was ever punished for these crimes. As Kunirum Osia observed in Anioma in Contemporary Nigeria (2012):

“Anioma people were falsely accused of inviting the Biafrans. Defenceless Anioma civilians in Asaba and Isheagu were massacred in cold blood by the advancing federal troops. Unfortunately, history has remained silent about what punishment the commander and his soldiers received. In a civilized society, they would have been court-martialed… what is troubling to this day is the nonchalant way the massacre has been treated by Nigerians.”

Instead of punishment, Murtala was rewarded. By July 1975, despite his reckless command and the fatal Asaba killings, he was a Brigadier and later, following the July 29 coup that toppled Gowon, was promoted straight to General and installed as Head of State. The massacre of Anioma civilians was forgotten in the rush of Nigerian military politics.

Three decades later, the Oputa Panel revisited the tragedy. Gen. Ibrahim Haruna, one of Murtala’s surviving officers, refused to apologise. To him, the killings were a military necessity. He declared:

“As far as I am concerned, it was a war situation, and in a war situation there are bound to be casualties. I cannot apologise for doing my duty.”

His defiance drew outrage but underscored the Nigerian Army’s refusal to reckon with its past. In contrast, Gen. Yakubu Gowon, wartime Head of State, chose a different path. In October 2002, while visiting Asaba at the invitation of the Asaba Development Union, Gowon offered a public apology:

“I am sorry for the Asaba Massacre… It was not something I ordered. It was a mistake, and I regret it deeply.”

Though symbolic, his words gave Anioma survivors recognition at the highest level, even as they continued to demand reparations and full historical acknowledgment.

The night of January 9, 1970, at Uli-Ihiala airstrip, captures the poignancy of Nwajei’s personal choice. As Ojukwu prepared to leave Biafra, senior officers, including Nwajei, escorted him to the airport. While others boarded the aircraft into exile, Nwajei refused. Family sources recall, he chose to stay behind for his mother. Instead, he returned to Asaba, where he was arrested in a house stacked with rifles and detained until 1975. Ironically, it was Gowon, his former course mate and wartime adversary and once his best man at his wedding who eventually secured his release.

Outside the army, Nwajei was remembered as both jovial and strict. A disciplinarian at home, he raised his children with the same principles he lived by in the barracks. He often dressed his sons in ceremonial uniforms for military occasions, instilling pride and respect for order.

In 1971, Col. Samuel Ogbemudia established Bendel Breweries in Benin as part of post-war industrialisation. It was Ogbemudia who secured employment for Nwajei, his former senior officer, as a Sales Representative. Nwajei, in turn, used the opportunity to employ numerous Ibusa sons and daughters. Yet he was no political sycophant, preferring service to his people over clinging to power or privilege. He eventually left Bendel Breweries and devoted himself more fully to community life.

His homes in Benin’s Oregbeni Housing Estate and in Nkpanyala-Ibusa became havens for visitors. Hospitable but firm, he embodied soldierly discipline even in retirement. Within the Ibusa Community Development Union, he rose to become President-General, serving with seriousness and dignity. Mr. Femi Okafor, an eyewitness recall his dramatic but successful bid for the position at a National Conference, where he defeated Awele Nwaezeigwe after an intense campaign.

Col. Sylvanus Benedict Amaechi Nwajei died in Ibusa after a protracted illness in 2008. He was laid to rest with full military honours in his hometown, a soldier to the end, remembered not only for the battles he fought but for the dignity with which he bore defeat, captivity, and the burden of memory.

...concluding part