Nigeria At 65

 

Nigeria is (65) sixty-five years, sixty-five years of independence, sixty-five years of promises, sixty-five years of betrayal. It should be a celebration, but tell me, what exactly are we celebrating? We have watched this country bleed for decades, not just from external wounds but from the inside, from the greed of leaders who swore oaths with their mouths while their hands dug deeper into the nation’s pockets, from the silence of those who see evil yet pretend not to, from the poverty that has grown so normal that hunger now feels like a natural state of being.

Tell me how do we talk about Nigeria at 65 without remembering the blood that has watered her soil? Benue, a land once known for it's rich harvest of yams, is now a graveyard for too many innocent folks, herdsmen clashes, killings that go unchecked, families displaced, children orphaned and yet no justice. Each massacre passes like a storm, the same government that is meant to protect us just shrugs, issues a statement and life goes on but for the people left behind, life never goes on and who can forget the night of October 20th, 2020? The Lekki Toll Gate massacre, young Nigerians who wanted nothing but a better future gathered, singing the anthem, waving the flag, daring to hope and they were silenced with bullets. The same flag meant to protect them was stained with their blood, the world saw it live yet here we are, still pretending it didn’t happen, no accountability, no closure just silence.

Our grandparents tell stories of Nigeria in the 1960s and 70s, when one Naira meant something, when education was affordable, when graduates walked into jobs, when a bag of rice wasn’t worth a man’s entire salary. Compare that to now, inflation is so brutal that people eat once a day and call it thanksgiving. A nation blessed with oil yet drowning in fuel scarcity, a land with universities yet filled with jobless graduates selling recharge cards and working at P.O.S stands just to survive. We once had dreams but now many young Nigerians dream only of escape, Canada, the UK, anywhere but this hell hole, simply because this land that birthed them no longer feels like home, only a prison with no light.

Sixty-five years and the same old names recycle themselves in power, men who were old enough to rule in the 1980s are still ruling today, elections come and the dance repeats itself, buying votes with bags of rice, thugs snatching ballot boxes, promises that expire the very next morning. Nigeria is rich, but Nigerians are poor, think about that. Why? The answer is simple, corruption is not just a flaw here it is the system itself, it has eaten deep into the fabric of this country leaving any illegal activities normal and justified. Our leaders trade the country piece by piece, the oil, the land, the people’s dignity and we the citizens, are forced to swallow it because what choice do we really have?

Another election is around the corner and what hope do we have? The same old faces Atiku, Tinunbu, Obi, Kwakwaso, shettima and others, same recycled lies, the same violence brewing in the shadows. Nigeria doesn’t feel like it is getting better, it feels like a patient on life support and the doctors are arguing over who will inherit the body. Yet, even with all this pain, one truth remains, Nigerians are some of the strongest people on this earth. We live with hunger, yet we still laugh, we bury our loved ones, yet we still dance at weddings, we endure blackouts, unemployment, insecurity, yet we still say “e go better, it is well, base on believe“. Yes we are emotional, we sometimes don’t know better but we carry a resilience that cannot be explained. Tell me where else in the world do you see people turn their suffering into jokes, memes, songs, and art? Where else do you see people so determined to smile through their tears? It takes extraordinary strength to survive Nigeria and every Nigerian carries that strength in their blood.

A Word of Hope

Nigeria at 65 is not where she should be, she is not the giant of Africa she once claimed to be. She is a giant crawling, bleeding and gasping for air but giants do not die easily.

And so I write this to you, my fellow Nigerians: 

Do not give up.

Do not let the hopelessness around you convince you that your life has no worth.

Do not let the bad governance erase your good dreams.

We are tired, we are hungry, we are angry but we are also unbreakable. The same way our ancestors endured colonization, wars and dictatorship, we too will endure this era and maybe, just maybe our children will rise from the ashes of our suffering to inherit a better land. Nigeria is 65 and she is wounded but so are we. And still, we rise. GOD BLESS THE MOTHERLAND.