Umuofia is my land, my identity and it is our culture; or it
was. I will admit my friend Okonkwo wasn't perfect- far from it actually. Now
that I reflect back on what happened, I can see how the downfall of my beloved
friend was parallel to the destruction- or civilization- of my identity,
language and community. Okonkwo wasn’t fond of change, especially if it wasn’t propagated
by him and unlike me, he was very expressive about it. Whether it be Mr Brown
or Mr Smith, none was better than the other. They both had the same intention
and purpose. Mr brown was like sweet poison and Mr Smith was like a cut down
our throat.
The minute fate turned against Okonkwo,
Umuofia started disintegrating bit by bit and eventually, all of it was
shattered like broken pieces of glass. It is sad to know my culture wasn't
strong enough to resist against invaders. It is sad to know that the thousands
of years spent on forming my culture, which is my identity, is no longer
existent. I've mourned enough. I've seen what a hard head can lead to and it is
not a happy place. I can righteously say that the only way forward is to
embrace my new given identity and keep the memories of my old one because
cultures fall apart, communities disintegrate and sometime in the future, my
new given identity will be stolen away from me by a new set of colonizers. From
this I can deduce that things really do fall apart.
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