From the epistles of Ejeagha, we have arrived at the gospel of “Gwo-gwo-gwo-ngwo”: Two individuals walk past each other. They stop. Suddenly, they simulate synchronized steps to a chorus of “Gwo gwo gwo ngwo.” They are amazed and amused by the elaborate and entertaining but deceptive dance steps. Then, for no rational reason and in no obvious order, one chases after the other.
Whatever meanings emerge from the trending viral dance, the renaissance of “Egwu Ejeagha” is a welcome development. The track has made it to nightclubs and wedding receptions. Imagine! Huge kudos to Chukwuebuka Emmanuel Amuzie, the comedian and content creator known as Brain Jotter.
I have known of Gentleman Mike Ejeagha since childhood. I recall listening to my father, an amateur guitarist, stringing tunes from musicians of that era: Celestine Okwu, Mike Ejeagha, Osadebe, Okonkwo Asaa (Seven Seven), etc. Postwar, we fed our ears with the melody and words of Wings, Wrinkars Experience, Semi Colon, Sweet Breeze, Founders 15, The Apostles, etc., Don Williams/Kenny Rogers-type American country music, and servings of Kris Okotie, Jide Obi, Ofege, Sunny Okosun, Fela, etc.
In 2009, I was in Enugu and attended the Coal City Centenary Celebration. On arrival with Emecca Ani, then a state commissioner in Sullivan Chime administration, I saw Ejeagha and his ensemble playing under a tree. I was so shocked I froze. The wail of Chime’s entourage sirens jolted me back.
Released over 40 years ago, “Ka e si le Onye Isi oche” (in “Akụkọ n’Egwu Vol. I) is an Ejeagha classic, as are many others, but it was not expected to lend its repetitive ostinato chorus, “Gwo gwo gwo ngwo,” to a global deceptive dance challenge.
The song tells the story of a crafty tortoise that tricked his friend (“ényì”)—an elephant (“ényí”)—into becoming a gift to a king in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The first part of the song sets the story with a pleasant piece of music. The lyrics begin with the tortoise telling the king that he has brought the requested elephant.
Curiously, the tortoise uses the word “ịkpata” (to lure). The unsuspecting elephant is baffled: “Little Tortoise, whom do you say you have lured?” The tortoise breaks no sweat in spewing a full-chest fib: “I said that ‘Anị’ [the Earth deity on which Igbo spirituality is anchored] should guide and guard the Elephant: It sounded like ‘I have lured the Elephant’! Isn’t the Elephant going to be the chairman? Elephant, keep stepping; we are behind you.”
Ejeagha alerts his audience: “If you listen, you will hear how the so-called ‘chairman’ was sold!” To sustain the story summary, he repeats the long chorus:
“Nna m Eze, akpata m Enyi…. “ (Your Majesty the King, I have lured the Elephant.)
“Nwa mbe, ị sị na ị kpata onye?” (“Little Tortoise, whom do you say you have lured?”)
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Gwo gwo gwo ngwo!
Ejeagha tells the story: After rejecting several suitors, the king summons Adaeze, the princess royal, and the royal household. He wonders when the serial rejection will end. The princess declares that whoever will marry her must gift her an elephant, so she can parade on top of the mammoth mammal at community ceremonies.
The tortoise has his ears to the ground. He has shown interest in the princess. Though disdainfully dismissed, the tortoise won’t back down. He conceives a coup. He lies to his friend, the elephant, that the king is celebrating his anniversary (ọfala) and has requested his presence as chairman of the occasion. The elephant is thrilled. The opportunity to woo and win the hand of the princess in marriage is music to his large ears.
The rest of the story is how the tortoise pulled off one of his many fraudulent schemes in Igbo mythology: In pretending to hitch a ride, he got a rope around the neck of the elephant (a symbol of proprietorship), and delivered the animal as demanded by the princess. The tortoise temporarily got away with bamboozling an elephant!
Ejeagha shares the moral of the story: If you are escorting a friend to anywhere outside your comfort zone, make sure you understand the mission. Indeed, it is said that some folks strolled into slavery by embarking on such an escorting trip with supposed friends. A terrible trip could be aborted if one stops to get critical clarity.
“Akụkọ n’Egwu Ejeagha” (the musical epistles of Ejeagha) meant a stretched story of continual chorus, a tall tale—like most myths. The gospel of ‘gwo-gwo-gwo-ngwo’ now connotes obvious lies packaged to mean well but ultimately lead to a possible costly consternation. It’s no wonder the choreographed dance steps and apparent amicability of total strangers end with the pointless proposition of a chasing challenge.
The trend has rekindled interest in Igbo folklores. Unbeknownst to many Gen-Zies, there are scores of such stories about the legend of tortoise. Coming at these terrifying times in the country’s cultural sphere, it provokes interest in revisiting traditional tenets that sustained stable societies of yore: handwork, honesty, humanity, and humility.
MOE, 7.28.2024