HOLY NWEJE: The Man Who Lived for Others

In every generation, there are rare souls who walk among us, embodying goodness so profoundly that their names become synonymous with righteousness. Rev. Hezekiah Okoro Nweje was one such man. Born in 1919 in Onitsha, Anambra State, and passing on in June 1962, his life remains a shining example of what it truly means to live selflessly.

Nicknamed "Holy Nweje," not out of mockery but deep respect, he was a man of extraordinary humility, kindness, and unwavering faith. As an Anglican priest, he was more than just a preacher; he was a father to the fatherless, a friend to the needy, and a beacon of righteousness.

He believed that wealth was not about how much you had but about how much you shared. Whatever gifts he received from his congregation, he never kept for himself. Instead, he made sure that his fellow priests, the poor, and the less privileged all had a share. To him, God’s blessings were meant to be passed around, not hoarded.

When he was nominated to become the Anglican Bishop on the Niger, he did something almost unheard of—he declined and nominated someone else he believed was more deserving. How many people today would walk away from such an opportunity out of humility?

But perhaps one of his most unforgettable moments came in May 1956, when a heated land dispute broke out between Onitsha and Obosi. Called to testify, he didn’t take sides. Instead, he uttered a simple but powerful truth:

"Ani bu ani Chukwu"—The land and everything in it belong to God.

With that, the case was settled. His words carried so much weight that the dispute ended, just like that.

Then there’s the story of April 1956, when thieves broke into his home in Onitsha, stealing tubers of yam and a fowl. Instead of cursing them or calling the police, he ran after them—not to punish them, but to offer them more food. He knew that hunger had driven them to steal, and instead of condemnation, he chose compassion.

This was the kind of man he was.

Even today, in Igboland, when someone is known for their uprightness, people call them "Holy Nweje." It is not an insult; it is an acknowledgment of goodness, a reflection of the life he lived.

And in Onitsha, Nweje Lane still stands—a street named in his honour, ensuring that his legacy of kindness and humility is never forgotten.

So, if someone ever calls you "Holy Nweje," don’t feel embarrassed. Wear it with pride. It means you are walking a path that very few have the strength to follow—the path of righteousness.