Picture Credit Nancy Okosi

Between Fear and Wonder
In the heart of Keffi, North Central Nigeria, a snake rises — not to music alone, but to movement, belief, and survival. Snake charmers occupy a delicate space between fear and wonder, where tradition meets spectacle.
Often inheriting the practice through generations, these charmers learn to handle danger with calm, ritual, and restraint. What appears mystical to the audience is rooted in belief, experience, and necessity.
As wildlife laws tighten and urbanisation steadily advances, snake charmers are pushed further to society’s edges, their histories quietly fading. Yet some persist — not only for income, but for identity.
Across West Africa, from Cotonou to northern Benin, Mali, and Burkina Faso, snake charming remains intertwined with spiritual practices such as Vodun. In Keffi, it survives as both performance and heritage.

Sidenote:
I met them in Nasarawa State, but they’re spread across Northern Nigeria — Zaria, Kano, Jigawa, and more.
Mr. Yakubu, the cobra controller, told me he uses “the power of God” to command these snakes.
Just wow.
It hit me then — God has already given us the authority to trample on snakes and scorpions.
We just need to activate that gift. It’s really that simple.

( Kindly ignore this counsel 😔, thank you)

Keffi, Nasarawa State. 2025

Twenty-two years have passed since you slept and are now raised in glory. I often wonder who you truly were and what our beautiful relationship would have been like.

Although my memories are faint, I remember my twin sister and me, along with our cousins, spending time with you in Asokoro when we had just relocated to Abuja, before moving to Kubwa. Much later in my life, I learned about your courageous battle with breast cancer. One would have thought that by now a medical breakthrough providing a cure for cancer would have emerged, but pharmaceutical interests often seem more inclined to enrich their pockets through people’s agony.

Dear Grandma, I caught a glimpse of what you went through when I discovered a breast lump some years ago, accompanied by the most excruciating pain. I woke up one day and realized I was losing blood, and an emergency operation became necessary. I was in and out of the hospital for more than a year. That “strange” experience weighed me down, but the Great Healer intervened right on time and granted me life once again. I thank God for making all things and all times beautiful. I am deeply grateful to your dear daughter, Ikpoki (my mother), who took care of me and managed all my medical appointments.

Let me tell you a bit about your children—my four uncles, my aunt, and my mother. They often seem to be at loggerheads, with each sibling having a favourite. I would describe their relationship as “political.” I will spare the details, as they may one day read this tribute. Nevertheless, I have noticed that their relationship has recently improved, as they are now all quite “hyper-religious,” which is a good thing in its own way.

On January 8th, 2005—four months after you passed on—your dearest Ikpoki brought forth another child. She has brought us so much joy and peace. Ikpoki’s pregnancy with Elizabeth was very turbulent, as she was unable to attend your funeral. In all things, we give thanks.

In July 2007, Papa also joined you. Ever since then, we have not visited the village as often as we ought to—Abua/Odual.

One of my regrets is not being able to learn the Abua language. It remains a mystery how I quickly learned Yoruba, yet could hardly pick up any other local or foreign language despite my efforts. Ikpoki—your dear daughter and my beloved mother—only spoke Abua when we upset her and could no longer express her “frustrations” in English. I now promise you, dear Grandma, that I will learn and speak the Abua dialect. I am committed to preserving our heritage.

My letter would not be complete without updating you about our beloved nation, Nigeria. Much has changed in the past 22 years. President Yar’Adua succeeded President Olusegun Obasanjo in 2007, and in 2011, President Goodluck Jonathan won the presidential election after serving as Acting President. I remember the 2011 election vividly, when Muhammadu Buhari also contested with his running mate, Pastor Tunde Bakare, a popular Lagos pastor. Other candidates included Nuhu Ribadu, Ibrahim Babangida (IBB), and several others whose names escape me, as I was quite young then but very curious.

Fast-forward to 2015, when Nigerians felt they had had enough and desired a “CHANGE,” believing that only a messiah in the persons of Muhammadu Buhari and Pastor Yemi Osinbajo could offer it. We are still experiencing the far-reaching effects of that decision. I would not want to bore you with Nigeria, but these elections—including the 2023 one—prove that Nigeria’s ethnic and religious cleavages are yet to disappear. We need not another election in Nigeria because as far as I know, APC, PDP and LP are just synonyms. More like choosing a better devil.
I am passionate about Nigeria and willing to contribute to her betterment.

In conclusion, dear Grandma, I thank you for gifting me a fantastic mother. Your son-in-law is an amazing dude. He is a quiet, calm, and reserved man. We all thought he would change over the years—alas, we were wrong. I also thank you for giving me the beautiful name Ibel. It is unique. Edna, my sister—your namesake—resembles you somewhat. Ikpoki also looks more like you , lol. Blood is indeed thicker than mud.

Life has not been a bed of roses, but I know of a surety that I will be victorious.

Yours truly,
Nancy

Edna Ikata (née Iderima)
1933–2004

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I've always wondered why African stories are so often filtered through a non-African lens. For decades, Western media has projected a narrow and often negative image of Africa—one shaped more by bias than by reality.

It’s surprising that even in 2025, many Americans, Europeans, and others around the world still hold outdated beliefs: that lions roam freely through our streets, that we have no electricity, no roads, no development—almost as if we’re still stuck in the Stone Age.

This is why the power of African voices in media cannot be overemphasized.

Africans must take ownership of their narratives—telling stories of triumph, innovation, resilience, and everyday life. These stories are richer, more accurate, and more impactful when told by those living them.

African stories are not monolithic—they are diverse, complex, and deeply rooted in culture, history, and modern realities. And they are best told by Africans themselves.

As much as there are stories of war , famine, poverty and the likes all around us , it’s our duty as storytellers to present a balanced view of the truth.

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