Will Agaracha Still Come Back?

Charles Nwodo Jr.

Let me start with a fairly familiar story. In the immediate aftermath of the Nigeria civil war, Igbo land or what is now referred to as the Southeast was like an expanded refugee camp. Families returned to completely destroyed homes and homes that were not demolished were looted and businesses were totally shut down.

So, for the average household survival was a daily battle and every young man or woman took up the responsibility to go out in search of food items, in search of menial jobs, in search of any opportunities just to provide for the households. The itinerant hustler that takes off regularly in search of much needed relief for the household was nicknamed “Agaracha”.and who will always come back with goodies no matter how far and how long away a trip takes.

So “Agaracha must come back “became a popular slogan to capture the desperate survival strategy of Igbos following the sufferings and economic blockade imposed by the Nigeria government. Almost every Igbo family had an Agaracha that disappears for several days and weeks and sometimes for months. Today another type of Agarachas have emerged as part of the global migration phenomenon and we ask “Will Agaracha Still come back”?

 Migration is one of the defining realities of our time.

From the Southeast and indeed from all over Nigeria and Africa, people are leaving home in search of opportunity, education, security and economic advancement. From London to Toronto, Houston to Johannesburg, Dubai to Berlin, Bangkok to Manila, Jakarta to Beijing, millions of Africans now live, work and raise families beyond the continent’s borders. So migration as an individual response to socio economic or climatic pressures or wars and social strife is now a reality that the world has come to accept.

Across Alaigbo, in the Southeast of Nigeria, many families are without their family heads and important family members, some communities have lost whole families and even entire clans to migration. By the same token, in many communities in our homeland migrants from other states in Nigeria are now fully integral to the demography and socio-cultural milieu of our Igbo communities. And these changes are real and ongoing.

These changes are visible in our markets and cultural settings, in our foods that are becoming different, in our dialects that are mutating, in our traditional practices that are vanishing, and long held values, identity and ethos that are diffusing progressively. But these are the internal dimensions of the migration challenge.

According to our people,” Onye n’amaghi ebe osi puta , agaghi ama ebe on’eje (He who does not know where he comes from will not know where he is going). Also we say that  “ Onwere isi ahuru, were kwaba okpu” ( Those that make caps or head covers designed them to satisfy the need to cover the head and according to the features of the head)

Yet beneath the economics of migration lies a deeper question.

Will the person who relocates from the homeland remain connected? Will success acquired elsewhere strengthen the homeland that shaped the person? Or will distance eventually become disconnection?

These questions are becoming increasingly important in a world defined by unprecedented human mobility. They are also deeply relevant to Nigeria and, perhaps more specifically, to the Igbo national experience.

My view is simple:

Distance must never become disconnection.

Home is not merely a place on a map. It is a responsibility, a memory and a moral claim on our attention. It is the place whose future should still matter to us even when our postcode has changed. It is the compound where our name has history and the village where our fathers are known, and where our children may one day be asked, “Whose son are you?”

As we say, “Onye na amaghi ebe mmiri bidoro tibe ya, agaghi ama ebe oga akwusi”  (A person who does not know where the rain began to beat him will not know where it stopped.) For that reason, I believe the diaspora must not merely remember the homeland. The diaspora must help build it.

And as we build from afar, we must carry home within us—in values, culture, conduct, investment and the raising of the next generation.

Why It Matters

The diaspora already matters enormously to Nigeria. According to the World Bank, Nigeria received approximately $22 billion in personal remittances in 2025. Those funds pay school fees, cover hospital bills, settle rent, restart businesses and stabilise families. They represent one of the major channels through which opportunity flows into millions of households.

But this is where the conversation must go further. If we reduce the diaspora to remittances alone, we underestimate its value. The diaspora is not merely a source of foreign exchange. It is a source of knowledge, institutional exposure, global networks, standards, reputation and cultural influence. The International Organisation for Migration (IOM) has repeatedly highlighted the role diaspora communities play through skills transfer, reintegration support and community development.

When I speak about building the homeland from afar, I am therefore not advocating only for the transfer of money. I am arguing for the transfer of exposure, discipline, values, networks, excellence and experience. Nations are not built only by budgets. They are built by people who refuse to become strangers to the places that formed them.

Migration, Change and Continuity

As I outlined earlier, the homeland, our homeland, is changing—gradually, but unmistakably.

The patterns of migration I described previously, are reshaping communities. People move in search of opportunity, security and livelihoods. New social and economic relationships are emerging. Communities are becoming increasingly multi-cultural but interconnected.

There is exchange—of language, habits, culture and ideas.

People learn to navigate differences. Economic activity follows movement. New relationships form. New opportunities emerge.

Many of these changes are beneficial. Properly managed, migration can deepen markets, stimulate economic activity and strengthen inter-ethnic, national and international understanding and foster social integration. People are far more likely to understand one another when they live, trade, work and build together than when they remain separated by distance and assumptions.

But even positive change deserves attention.

As we say in Igbo: Ihe na-agbanwe agbanwe, ọ naghị eti mkpu. (What is changing does not shout.)

This observation is not an argument against change. It is a reminder that societies are often transformed gradually. The changes that eventually shape communities rarely arrive with announcements. They emerge through thousands of small decisions, interactions and adaptations.

While the examples I draw are largely from the Southeast and the Igbo experience, the underlying challenge is increasingly national. Across Nigeria, communities are being reshaped by mobility, demographics, urbanisation and economic change. The question is not whether change will happen. It will. The question is whether we are intentional about the values and institutions that guide it and how we are positioned to steer the change to a predetermined desirable or at least manageable outcome.

As we say in Igbo: Ka abia k’abia,mere na mbe epughi odu (Procrastination in taking actions prevented the tortoise from having a tail). Also we say “ Anu gba ajo oso,agba ya ajo egbe” (A prey that proves complicated to the hunter will receive the hunter’s complicated hunting arsenal)

A Note of Urgency

The erosion of identity does not begin with loss; It begins with neglect. Across the world today, cultures are disappearing—not in dramatic collapse, but in quiet transition. Languages are fading, traditions are thinning, and collective memory is weakening. Entire civilisations are slowly transitioning into history. This is not theoretical.

Consider the Ainu people of Japan. Once a distinct civilisation with its own language, traditions and worldview, they are now fighting to preserve elements of an identity that previous generations may have assumed would survive naturally. The decline did not come through sudden destruction. It occurred gradually, as language transmission weakened and assimilation became the norm. Other extinct and near extinct ethnic groups abound in our hemisphere and even in our continent from which we must draw important lessons about ethnic survival and civilizational sustainability.

Yes, cultures disappear. Not in a moment. But in a process.

UNESCO estimates that nearly 40 per cent of the world’s languages are endangered. When a language dies, what is lost extends beyond vocabulary. Memory is lost. Philosophy is lost. History is lost. Identity is lost.

What is not preserved is eventually replaced. What is not transmitted is eventually forgotten. No society plans for this outcome. It happens slowly. Respectably. Gradually. Until one day, what was once identity becomes memory.

That is why development cannot be reduced to economics alone; it is also about continuity and generational transfer of identity.

As we say in Igbo: “Mberede nyiri dike, mana mberede k’eji ama dike”. (Unforeseen circumstances constrain the brave man but overcoming them defines the strong man). Also, we say “Oburu na afo n’atu egwu,ogaghi ebu uzo”. (If the stomach were fearful of its role in the human body, it would refuse to be in front).

Why the Diaspora Must Help Build the Homeland

The first reason is gratitude. Every one of us started somewhere. We began in families, communities, villages and towns that gave us identity before the world gave us opportunity. Whether we admit it or not, we are products of places and people who invested in us long before we could repay them. Our journeys were made possible by resources from parents, from families, from extended families, from communities or from proceeds of local opportunities.

The second reason is economic. If remittances are already significant, imagine what could happen if they became more intentional, more structured and more development focused. Much of diaspora support remains reactive. It is often directed towards medical emergencies, school fees, rent obligations, funerals and immediate family needs. Such support is necessary and compassionate. Yet compassion alone does not build systems. The larger question is how we move from emergency support to productive investment, from isolated generosity to coordinated development, and from paying bills to building institutions.

The third reason is cultural. People can become economically present in the world and culturally absent from themselves. UNESCO reminds us that language carries knowledge, tradition and identity, and that intergenerational transmission plays a decisive role in cultural survival and ultimately civilizational sustainability.

If our children can pronounce croissant perfectly, discuss skiing fluently and order sushi confidently, yet cannot greet an elder in Igbo, cannot identify their village or explain where they come from, then something deeper than migration has happened.

As African parents and Ndigbo, being overseas must not become for us and our children, isolation. Yes, children born abroad should thrive where they are planted. They can be fully British, German, Dutch or American while remaining proudly Igbo and deeply connected to their roots. If we fail to pass on language, memory and values, home may eventually become nothing more than a distant family rumour. That is not a future we should casually accept.

The fourth reason is strategic. Identity is not merely sentimental. It has practical value. A people’s image is shaped not only by embassies and governments, but also by individuals. For example, every Nigerian abroad is, in some measure, a walking embassy.

The professional excellence of Nigerians abroad matters. Their integrity, conduct and cultural confidence matters. The same is true of every Igbo person abroad in relation to the ties to Alaigbo. Every respected doctor, trusted engineer, ethical entrepreneur, accomplished academic and outstanding student contributes to a stronger national reputation. Every Nigerian of Igbo extraction who carries himself or herself with dignity makes it easier for the next Nigerian or Igbo person to be received with respect.

As we say in Igbo “Girigiri bu ugwu Eze” .(The aura of a king or royal announces him). We also say that “Onye ubiam adighi aza Omokachie” (The destitute does not take royal title).

How to Build the Homeland from Afar and Mitigate Threat to Our Civilisation

The first pathway is to carry identity confidently, not defensively. Home must travel with us—not as baggage, but as ballast; not as nostalgia, but as grounding. The values that shaped us—respect for elders, commitment to family, hard work, communal responsibility, dignity in conduct, reverence for education and faith—are not outdated ideas. They are portable assets.

The second pathway is to build strong diaspora communities. No one keeps culture alive alone.

“Onadinma ihe kwuru, ihe akwudebe ya” . (When we exalt ourselves and our culture as a people, we earn respect). Community is where identity is renewed. Town unions, alumni associations, professional groups, faith communities and family networks create what might be described as a slice of home away from home. They provide support, continuity and belonging.

The third pathway is to raise the next generation intentionally.

If the first generation migrates but the second generation disconnects, migration may enrich the family while impoverishing the lineage.

“Onye ji efi kwe onya,kedu anu oga amata?”.(If one uses a cow as bait in a bush trap, what sort of game will the trap catch?). Children should know where they come from. They should know their language, understand their history and hear the stories of those who came before them. Identity cannot be outsourced to social media.

Instagram cannot replace inheritance. TikTok cannot transmit ancestry. Google cannot love a child into cultural rootedness.

That responsibility belongs to families and communities. Because one of the greatest tragedies of our time, is not poverty. It is rootlessness.  The fourth pathway is intentional investment.

Nigeria’s remittance inflows remain significant, but remittances alone do not automatically create development. The real question is whether resources are being channelled into assets that outlive us—education, healthcare, enterprise, technology, infrastructure, youth development and institutional capacity.  People are willing to invest in their homeland. What many are wary of is investing in confusion.

The success of Nigeria’s diaspora bond which was substantially oversubscribed demonstrated that when credible structures exist, participation follows. Trust, transparency and clarity matter. Property rights matter. Good governance matters. Love of country is not opposed to proper governance. It requires it.  The fifth pathway is to create meaningful pathways for return.

Not everyone will return physically. Return can take many forms: investment, mentorship, philanthropy, skills transfer, school partnerships, policy advisory work and local development projects.

Migration should not be framed only as an escape; It should also be understood as an extension.

Not: “I have left; therefore, I am gone.” But: “I have gone out; therefore, I can reach back.”

A Shared Responsibility

The responsibility for building the homeland from afar does not rest solely with the diaspora. Those of us at home must also rethink how we engage Nigerians abroad. Too often, the conversation begins and ends with remittances. That is both shortsighted and unfair. The diaspora should not be viewed as an occasional ATM, but as a strategic partner in national renewal whose value extends beyond financial transfers to knowledge, networks, institutional exposure and global experience.

Realising that value requires more than goodwill. It requires policies that encourage participation, institutions capable of absorbing expertise and investment, and systems that inspire confidence rather than suspicion. Trust must be strengthened, friction reduced and engagement made more meaningful. Countries and societies that successfully harness their diaspora populations do not do so by accident; they create clear pathways for contribution and credible structures for participation.

Ultimately, the relationship cannot be one-sided. The work is mutual, the responsibility is shared and the bridge must be built from both ends. In relation to Ndigbo I submit that organizations such as Ohanaeze Ndigbo, Ndigbo Lagos Foundation, the various Igbo rooted socio cultural organizations, and prominent Igbo sons and daughters have very important roles to play in this regard.

Conclusion

The question is no longer whether the diaspora matters to Alaigbo and to Nigeria. Its importance is already established. The more meaningful question is whether we are prepared to embrace the full implications of that reality.

At stake is more than remittances. It is a question of continuity, identity, development and responsibility. It is a question of whether future generations will inherit not only economic opportunity, but also the values, stories, language and sense of belonging that connect them to something larger than themselves.

For me, building the homeland from afar involves three interconnected commitments: keeping home alive within us, building structures of home around us, and investing in the future of home beyond us. These are not competing obligations. They are complementary expressions of the same idea—that distance should never become disconnection.

In practical terms, this means carrying Enugu, Abakaliki, Umuahia, Owerri,Awka and Nigeria well into the world. It means speaking about home with honesty rather than cynicism, contributing more than opinions, raising children who understand who they are, creating communities that foster belonging and converting remittances into development. It means turning success abroad into significance at home.

Perhaps above all, it means resisting the temptation to become strangers to the places that shaped us, the places of our birth and the places most of us would wish to be interred when our times come.

As we say “Ihe eji achu aja, bu ewu na okuko,anyi agaghi eji mmadu chuo aja” (The items of traditional sacrifice are goats and chicken, we should not use human beings for that purpose). Also “Kama anu ewu g’ese okwu,ka ozu gbara aka la” (Instead of bickering over funeral goat meat it is better to conduct the funeral without any meats).

The question of Agaracha, therefore, is not simply whether he will still come back. It is whether he remains connected. In an age of unprecedented mobility, that may be the more important question—not only for Ndigbo, but for Nigeria and Africa.

Thank you very much for your attention and congratulations to you all for the great success that this event has turned out to be.

                                                                                                                                                                                               Nwodo Jr., the Founder/Chairman of XL Africa Group delivered this keynote address at the 2026 Convention of the College of Immaculate Conception ( CIC) Enugu Alumni Association Europe Chapter in Aberdeen, Scotland recently