Neither North Nor East: The Invisible Lives of Igbo Muslims

Anytime I see an Igbo Muslim, I am taken aback. As someone who grew up in the Southwest where families have Christians and Muslims as kin and kith, the assumption we had is that of the East belonging to Christianity while the Core North belongs to Islam. So, imagine how intrigued I was when I visited the Niger Delta states for work in 2014 and met an Igbo Muslim in Umuahia. A meeting with another this week resurrected the memory after we got talking about what it means to be caught between the complexities of their dual identities.

I was not surprised at what he told me. In fact, I expected it. He was kind enough to send me links to articles and interviews conducted by reputable media on what it means to be a part of a largely misunderstood aspect of Nigeria’s religious and cultural landscape. But he didn’t need to. A simple Google search showed me tons of articles about this topic; from the Punch to Vanguard. The academic-inclined The Conversation has an article on it, and I even saw an interesting thread on Reddit about this topic. Even then, I thanked him for his resources and promised I would write an article about it.

Islam was introduced to the Igbo region in southeastern Nigeria in the early 20th century, according to an account by the Premium Times. The first known Muslim migrant to the area was Ibrahim Aduku, a trader from Bida in Nupeland, who arrived in Enugu-Ezike around 1909, coinciding with the establishment of the British colonial outpost. Aduku’s interactions with local communities paved the way for other Muslim traders and religious figures to settle in the region, including those from Ilorin and Osogbo.

By the mid-20th century, the first significant group conversions took place, with notable figures such as Okpani Nwagui embracing Islam in 1958, further spreading the faith among the Igbo. Despite this early growth, Islam among the Igbo remained limited, with the 1984 census estimating only 3,450 indigenous Igbo Muslims. Today, that number has swelled to about 13,500, though they remain a tiny fraction of the overall Igbo population, which is predominantly Christian.

The presence of Islam in the South-East has been met with suspicion and resistance, particularly in the context of Nigeria’s complex political and ethnic dynamics. The Igbo, predominantly Christian, view Islam as a foreign religion, often equating it with the Hausa-Fulani, Nigeria’s most significant Muslim ethnic group. This perception is deepened by the region’s history, where the Igbo experienced significant trauma during the Nigerian Civil War, a war where at least three million people were killed. It was a conflict marked by religious and ethnic divides.

In Igbo society, the notion that “Hausa equals Muslim” is pervasive. As a result, Igbo Muslims are often seen as traitors to their cultural heritage. The simple act of practicing Islam can make an Igbo person feel like an outsider in their own community. The Chief Imam of Imo State, Sheikh Suleiman Njoku, highlights the persistent challenge: “Many people see you as an incomplete Igbo man simply because you’re a Muslim.”

This misunderstanding extends beyond societal perceptions to the workplace and educational institutions. Farida Okoli, a Muslim woman from Enugu, one of the many interviewed by Daily Trust in 2021, recalls the challenges she faced while seeking employment. When she wore a hijab to interviews, she was often told that she could not work without removing it. In many cases, she had to alter her name and adopt more “Igbo-Christian” sounding alternatives to secure a job. For many Igbo Muslims, such compromises are a painful part of daily life in the South-East.

The pressure to conform to mainstream Igbo culture is not only social but also political. Igbo Muslims often find themselves invisible in national discourse, with no representation in Nigeria’s National Assembly or in high-ranking political positions. This lack of visibility is compounded by the growing insecurity in the region, which has led many Igbo Muslims to flee northwards, where they feel more accepted. Some even practice Islam in secret, fearing ridicule or violent retaliation. According to Imam Njoku, “There are many secret Muslims in Imo State. Some people hide their identity due to the fear of persecution.”

The fear of exclusion also extends to the personal level. Anas Abdullah Odunachukwu, a student from Enugu studying in the North, shared his experience of being discouraged from applying to universities in the South-East due to his Muslim name. “The problem is, as soon as they see your name, they don’t accept that you can be Igbo and Muslim,” he said. The social exclusion faced by Igbo Muslims in their own homeland can be alienating, and many choose to relocate to the North, where they are less likely to face discrimination based on their faith.

The rise of anti-Muslim sentiment in the South-East is deeply intertwined with broader political and ethnic issues. Igbo Muslims are often accused of being “Hausa” simply because of their religion, leading to further alienation. This mischaracterization reflects a broader societal issue where individuals are pigeonholed based on their religious affiliation rather than their ethnic identity.
Sheikh Ali Ukiwo, the Chief Imam of Abia State, remarks that “an Igbo man will see a Yoruba Muslim and call him a Hausa man.” This growing tendency to associate any Muslim with the Hausa/Fulani is a troubling development, as it perpetuates religious and ethnic intolerance. Similarly, when Igbo Muslims are identified in the South-East, they are often perceived as betraying their roots.

The political landscape for Igbo Muslims is also fraught with challenges. Ibrahim Ogbonnia Amah, a prominent Muslim politician, has shared the difficulties he faced while attempting to run for office in Afikpo, his home community. He says that despite his qualifications and capabilities, his Muslim identity was seen as a liability, and he was told he could not gain support because of his religion. “They cannot support me because I am a Muslim,” Amah lamented, underscoring how religion can become a barrier to political success in the South-East.

For many Igbo Muslims, the North has become a haven where they are not judged solely by their faith. In places like Kaduna, Igbo Muslims have enjoyed a level of acceptance and even preferential treatment. Saadatu Abdullahi, an Igbo Muslim from Enugu, recalls her time in the North, saying, “I have never been discriminated against for not being from the North. They took cognizance of the fact that I am a Muslim and, especially, of Igbo extraction.”

However, the move northwards comes with its own set of challenges, as many Igbo Muslims are often caught between two worlds. They are not entirely accepted in the North because of their Igbo roots, and they are still seen as outsiders in the South-East because of their faith. This dual marginalization highlights the complexities of being an Igbo Muslim in Nigeria.

As I told the person I interacted with, the Igbo Muslim experience is one of resilience in the face of adversity. I wish him and those in his religious family well.