I came into this strange and fascinating world with the usual cry of a new born on Sunday, September 28th, 1941, in the ancient city of Nri in Eastern Nigeria. Nri is regarded as the ancestral and cultural homeland of the Igbo people of Nigeria. It was the practice among the Igbo wherever they might be in Nigeria to send their pregnant wives to their native towns within Igboland to deliver their babies. Three months after delivery, mother and child then returned to the father. After a few weeks of my birth, I was officially and ritually presented to the Umunriomalo major family and given the name Udo, meaning Peace. As my parents were devout Catholic Christians, I was baptized by Reverend Father Nwanegbo in Adazi on November 28, 1941. After about three months of life in my native Nri, my mother traveled with me back to Agyaragu in Northern Nigeria where my father was stationed.

The year 1941 was an important year historically not because I was born then, but because it marked the moment when the whole world was dragged into the greatest military conflict known to man. World War II became a global conflict by the end of 1941. Fighting which had been confined to Europe, spread to Africa, the Balkan Peninsula of southeastern Europe, and the Soviet Union. The Axis and the Allies also battled each other at sea. And in December 1941, the United States entered the war, following the attack on Pearl Harbor. This was also a time when British colonial rule in Nigeria was at its strongest. Many able-bodied Igbo and other Nigerians were recruited as soldiers to fight alongside their British counterparts against Hitler and his Axis. Many essential commodities, especially common salt, were in severe shortage and therefore rationed. Back home in my native Nri there was a crisis of succession to the throne of Eze Nri (King of Nri) between Tabansi Udene (Nrijiofor II) and Okpoko. The preceding Eze Nri was Nri Obalike, my great grand uncle who reigned from 1889 to 1935. So, it was into this climate of local and world-wide crises that I was born. It was not therefore surprising that my father should give me the name Udo, that is, may there be peace. I am not sure I was able to usher in the peace my father prayed for but the crisis of succession to the Eze Nri throne was resolved peacefully in 1944 when my family transferred the sacred instruments and paraphernalia to the new Eze Nri, Nrijiofo II. Okpoko was declared an impostor. In 1945 World War II came to an end, but a new age had been born – the atomic age.

I am the first son of Lazarus Odenigbo who was the first son out of nine children of Nwokoye Odenigbo who himself was the first son of Odenigbo Alike Ifem. Odenigbo and Eze Nri Obalike were grandsons of Alike Ogalanya, the son of Nweri Nnama and grandson of Nriomalo. Nriomalo was the son of Alikenri who was the son of Nri Ifikwuanim, the founding father of the Holy City of Nri. My father had three brothers and five sisters. My ancestors exercised extraordinary influence in the political, cultural and kingship institutions of Nri, the oldest civilization in West Africa dating back to the 9th century AD. My mother, Rosaline Ama, was the last of five children by Okafor Nwanya of Awovu Enugwu-Ukwu, a man legendary for his extraordinary height, and his wife Mgbeke Udala of Nimo. Okafor Nwanya was a powerful and charismatic personality and had a large amount of property. But I grew up to know him as a loving grandfather despite his intimidating size. None of his children or grand children measured up to him in terms of height. My mother was the only daughter of her parents. By 1945, the immediate senior brother to my mother had graduated from the famous Christ the King College Onitsha with his Senior Cambridge School Certificate.

My father loved reading and writing. As soon as I was able to talk, he set up class for me at home, teaching me the alphabets and numbers. I remember him sitting in his ease chair at the end of the day’s work, reading aloud the Hausa newspaper, Gaskya Tafi Kwobo, meaning truth is better than money. Before I was born, my father was already deep into English literature and possessed a stack of books and a copy of the Chambers Etymological Dictionary. Considering that my father only had four or five years of formal primary education, I consider him as a genius. It was this zeal for reading and writing that my father wanted to impart to me. In 1945 my family moved from Northern Nigeria to Emene Enugu in the East. So eager was my father to give me education that he sent me off to primary school as soon as I was four years old. Although he was a devout Catholic, he sent me to an Anglican school because it was nearer to our home. I would attend school in an Anglican institution all week long and then on Sundays the whole family would attend Mass at the Catholic Church which was far from our home. By this time my two other siblings had been born. We were not rich but thanks to the hard work of my father we were comfortable owning our own house and a lot of grounds and farmlands across the Ekwulu River. My father was persuaded to relocate to Emene by his senior sister, Unoaku (meaning House of Riches) who was then married to Stephen Nzekwe of Nibo, officer in charge of the Enugu Airport located in Emene, a senior position during the colonial period. Mr. Nzekwe lived in the senior service quarters located in the present site of the Niger Steel Industry. My father’s property was on the opposite side of the road.