Renowned Nigerian human rights lawyer and lead counsel to the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), Sir Ifeanyi Ejiofor, has expressed deep concern over what he described as the desecration of Ala-Igbo,not by foreign aggressors, but tragically, by some of her own sons who have turned against their heritage and people.
In a statement issued on Saturday, titled “SATURDAY MUSING: ‘ALA IGBO DI ILE; WHEN THE EARTH REMEMBERS’,” Ejiofor lamented the rapid decline of socio-economic and cultural life in the Southeast region.
He painted a bleak picture of formerly thriving Igbo towns now reduced to eerie silence, with markets deserted, schools abandoned, and communities gripped by fear and lawlessness.
“The sacred soil that once bore the footprints of industrious traders, farmers, and craftsmen is now stained with the blood of the innocent spilled not by foreign invaders, but by homegrown monsters who have chosen violence over communal harmony,” Ejiofor stated.
He condemned the alarming rise in heinous crimes such as kidnapping for ransom, rape, and gratuitous killings, noting that such acts are not only criminal but represent a profound violation of Igbo cultural and spiritual values.
“These unscrupulous elements have transformed our once-revered ancestral forests into hideouts of terror,spaces that now serve as shrines where death is routinely pronounced upon fellow Igbos. It is a desecration of the very womb that birthed them,” he lamented.
Ejiofor's remarks come amid growing insecurity in the region, where criminal elements masquerading under various guises continue to perpetrate acts of terror against their own people.
He called for urgent collective introspection and action to restore dignity, peace, and the rule of law across Ala-Igbo.
The statement reads:
A Reflection on History, Conscience, and the Eternal Judgement of the Land.
There comes a time when the earth itself stirs in remembrance, when the soil, long patient under the burden of human trespass, begins to whisper its own verdict. That time, it seems, has again arrived in Ala-Igbo, the ancient land of our fathers, a land now trembling under the weight of both memory and misdeed.
Those who refused to learn from the mysterious efficacy of Ala, the Mother Earth of the Igbo, have themselves become living parables of warning. In our cosmology, Ala is not mere terrain; she is the conscience of the people, the silent ledger of truth, morality, and justice. The elders said, “Ala na-echeta” ; the Earth remembers. She gives men long ropes for repentance, but never infinite ones. And when the rope finally snaps, it is never by the wrath of men, but by the weight of their own sins.
Today, Ala-Igbo mourns her desecration, not merely by foreign invaders, but by her own sons turned vandals. Once vibrant towns now echo with silence, markets are deserted, schools abandoned, and communities gripped by fear. The sacred soil that once bore the footprints of traders and farmers is now stained by the blood of the innocent, spilled by monsters desecrating our land.
They kidnap for ransom, rape for pleasure, and kill for sport, desecrating the very womb that birthed them. They have turned ancestral forests into hideouts and shrines of terror, where they pronounce death upon their brothers and sisters.
And leading this macabre orchestra of destruction was one so-called “Gentle Yahoo”, a man who mistook notoriety for invincibility, who mistook bloodlust for bravery, and who imagined himself untouchable by both man and spirit. But even the gods have their sense of humour. The same man who strutted about as the “lion of the East” now whimpers in the custody of military intelligence, a living proof that Ala is slow to anger, but swift to repay. The masquerade of impunity, it turns out, always dances most vigorously at dusk, just before it collapses.
What greater tragedy afflicts a people than their refusal to reason with history? From the pogroms of 1966 to the ashes of Biafra, from fratricidal betrayals to the modern cult of crime dressed in revolutionary robes, we have seen this play before. The actors change, but the script remains the same: arrogance, bloodshed, and the inevitable fall. We never seem to learn that no man conquers the land that birthed him.
Some of these so-called warriors speak of “freedom” with mouths still dripping with the blood of their neighbours. They seek redemption through ruin, and call it revolution. Yet, the Earth, patient, impartial, incorruptible, keeps her own record. Every bullet that finds an innocent chest, every child that grows up fatherless, every widow who buries her son, adds another entry in the ledger of divine justice.
Let every man take heed: Ala cannot be deceived by rhetoric or bribed by fear. She listens when we lie to ourselves. She mourns when we destroy our brothers. And when her silence finally breaks, her judgement is both poetic and absolute.
So I say again, with solemn reflection: Ala-Igbo di ile; the Earth of the Igbo endures. She will outlive false prophets, tyrants, kidnappers, and pretenders. Her justice may sleep, but it never dies. Those who walk upright will find her blessings; those who defile her will become the very parables that future generations will recite to their children; warnings in human form.
To rebuild Ala-Igbo, we must first cleanse our hearts. No saviour armed with deceit will redeem us; no liberation founded on crime will prosper. The restoration of justice begins not in guns or propaganda, but in conscience. When truth becomes our altar and peace our offering, the Earth herself, weary but waiting, will rejoice again.
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