Biafra and the Cult of Eternal Delusion
By Chioma Amaryllis Ahaghotu
Another batch of lost Igbo men, as deluded as the “Igbrews”, are the diehard Biafrans who have built their entire existence around a fantasy that expired decades ago.
These are the remnants of the MASS0B and Biafran Zionists generation, men who have achieved absolutely nothing in life except dreaming about a country that will never exist.
You can’t reason with them. You can’t show them logic. They are all feelings and anti-facts.
They are beyond redemption.
Tell them the UN cannot break or create a sovereign nation, they won’t hear it.
Mention that there’s no constitutional provision for a referendum in Nigeria, they’ll start quoting “self-determination” without even understanding the process.
They still cling to that mythical letter Uwazurike submitted to the UN in 1999 as if it were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
A letter. To the UN. Think about that.
As if António Guterres will suddenly wake up and announce, “By the power vested in me, I hereby divide Nigeria.”
That’s not how the world works.
The UN doesn’t create or dismantle countries.
The Nigerian Constitution forbids secessi0n.
And even self-determination, the route Catalonia tried, still required years of parliamentary negotiations, and sustained political representation.
Catalonia has been pushing its independence movement for decades, with organized political parties, elected leaders, economic data, and legal frameworks, not laminated flags, fake uniforms, and WhatsApp propaganda. And even they haven’t achieved independence.
Now compare that to our so-called freedom fighters, men with no seats in the National Assembly, no lobbying channels, no influence over any policymaker, and no economic leverage, just hashtags, nostalgia, and delusion.
They sit in beer parlors and on Facebook screaming about “restoration,” while they have no oru aka, no trade, no craft, no skills, nothing.
Just dreams of a utopia where they will suddenly become generals and ministers in a country that exists only in their heads.
I once asked one of them to show proof of progress, he sent old photos from the MASSOB era.
Men in costume uniforms doing forward march in a dusty field, shouting slogans that didn’t work then and will never work now. “Old soldier never die,” they say.
Sir, you will die and die having achieved nothing.
And the new “soldiers” will wear Nigerian uniforms to keep the next batch of delusional Biafran dreamers from setting the East on fire again.
These are not revolutionaries.
These are people’s fathers, husbands, uncles — men who should be out in the world working, building, and providing , not chasing shadows and dragging the Igbo name into ridicule.
Meanwhile, Uwazurike, the same man who sold them the dream, lives comfortably in one of the biggest mansions in Owerri, sipping champagne on the proceeds of their gullibility.
His followers, however, are online shouting “Freedom!” while carrying files of laminated rubbish and worthless documents.
How can a people deemed so intelligent, so resourceful, so capable, waste decades worshipping a mirage?
Who do una this thing?
Biafra is not coming.
Not by letter, not by prayer, not by wishful thinking.
And until the Igbo man learns to channel his fire into real power, governance, and economic leverage, we will remain the most gifted people wasting our potential on delusions.
Wake up.
Put down the laminated flags.
Pick up a skill, a book, or a ballot. And some sense while you are at it.
Reality is not as romantic as fantasy, but it’s the only thing that builds and develops nations.
