Dibịa ụlọ, physician of the home. He reads the pulse of the home; understands what ails the home; heals the home. In him is the fullness of nwokeness: industry, resourcefulness, courage, sacrificial love.
From the panopticon of his obi, he watches over the home. Even the spirits think twice before entering his homespace, but must be ready to wrestle with him and his ikenga first. Dibịa ụlọ stands upon the trust of Ala and the ancestors, confident and daring to eat fire, vomit fire, extinguish fire.
The Igbo have invested in him the highest values to stay the family.
These days that some men would want to marry and not be ready to become husbands, and women too not ready to become wives, I look at Dibịa ụlọ and he looks back at me with reassurance, saying “Gaa n’ihu; O nweghị ihe na-eme!” And so, I move on, not trembling, for nothing can stop the spirit of the Great Spirit.
In him, you can find her: he is really female, discerning, caring, protective, domestic. He is home, at home. He, the domestic, stays the home when the violent winds rise against it.
He, the dread of ụmụnnadị, is the space of the future unwilling to eclipse too soon.
Dibịa ụlọ, the physician of the home. He, the metaphor of hope in being for the other. He, already the success of a nation in its crib.
He is the nation of the home, the home that nations.
In the night of nationhood, Dibịa ụlọ stays awake so that other members of the family can sleep. Dibịa ụlọ gives his life so that the family can survive. Dibịa ụlọ wears the crown of thorns, carries the cross, goes down to Ekemmụọ and resurrects as an idea that will never die again in the heart of the nation-home.