Cry for Liberation

There is a land…the depth of the thirst running through the rivers therein is mind boggling. But in the beginning, it was not so. In the beginning, the land was beautiful. Her waters were refreshing. The fruits from her trees were filling. The air was pure and soothing. So beautiful was the land, she was likened to a maiden. So beautiful was she, a relationship with her was always an enviable one. So beautiful was she, suitors climbed over one another to profess their affection for her.

Since she attained womanhood in 1960, she has survived several assaults, humiliation and trauma. Even though she was beginning to look ugly to my parents then when they used to tell me about her, to me, she was still stunning, considering how horrible we now make her look.

We all have taken the beauty nations would kill to have, and turned it around so much that everywhere our brothers and sisters venture into, they always expect the embraces of discrimination, handshakes of humiliation and salutations of contempt.

We watched as the beauty of the land was trampled on, her name dragged in the mud and her dignity tainted with grime.

Before our very eyes, the once sought-after maiden became a laughing stock among her peers. No one seems to want to identify with her anymore...that is how much her beauty has faded. The sad part is that this beauty did not fade because she was aging. The beauty faded away simply because of the immense abuse she has suffered from all of us.

Unlike the awe-inducing tales our parents gave us, amidst the plenty, basketfuls of hunger, tubers of misery are what we will have left as would-be elders to feed to the generation looking up to us. A land that was once the envy of all lands is now one where apart from patience, the only other fruit that grows in abundance is poverty.

It is easy to argue that our elders before us sold her out into wretchedness but it is almost as if we are reluctant to liberate her from her shackles of despair. But why should we, this generation, feel so responsible for the (mis)fortunes of the land? You may be pondering.

According to The World Factbook in 2020, the Nigerian demographics put us, people between 15-54 years at a whopping 50.87% of our population. The World Factbook makes it clear that we are the most active and are supposed to be the most productive of the nation's population but Nigeria has never looked uglier than it does presently.

Even though Nigerians are known to be very hardworking, the productivity of our labour force is just, according to ilostat.ilo.com, a paltry $8.27 per hour compared to other emerging countries, lowest of which is Brazil whose labour productivity is $17.4 per hour...more than twice our productivity.

As of December 2022, data from the International Monetary Fund puts Nigeria's economy as the biggest economy in Africa. Our Gross Domestic Product stood at $504.203bn as against Egypt's GDP of $469.094bn and South Africa's GDP of $411.480bn. The reality is that even before this announcement, our land was, and still is, steeped in surplus but we beg other lands to feed our greed.

Our collective actions and inactions have made us, this generation, the ultimate culprit for the misfortunes of the land.

I can positively influence this situation but it does not affect me directly, no need to address it.

These guys are cheating the system but is it hurting anybody? Lemme look the other way.

Exchange rates have more than tripled in a matter of months..but I can still afford my summer holiday in Ibiza. The exchange rates will come down when the time comes.

As long as you have an income source that can put food on your table, it's no use getting involved with Nigerian politics.

There's only one conclusion: a most irresponsible generation we have been.

For all of us who currently wallow in the glee of self-satisfaction, remember that whatever we do now will determine which side of history our names will be written on.

Posterity will judge us if we do not set things right before the younger ones take over.

"But it's the government that has not made the environment an enabling one for us to thrive" you may say.

Then I ask again: who put the government in place?

The only thing we learn from history is that we never learn from history. The names I heard at the helm of power when I was learning my first words are still the names I hear now that my daughter is learning to string sentences together.

In sixty two seasons, the land is still in search of candidates vibrant, articulate, lucid, patriotic and passionate enough to take charge at the highest level. The land is yet to find a worthy representative to take charge at the highest level.

Fortunately though, the land believes there is a way back to her former glory. She believes she can be great again, she believes her pride and glory can be restored, but she fears the coming generation who never saw or heard tales of her once envied beauty may never know the path to take to bring back her plundered glory. And with our elders having lost the strength in their legs to lead us back to the glory days, it is clear that the only generation capable enough to rescue her from her gloom is this generation: the same generation that sat back, arms folded, and watched as everything went downhill.

A most tempting prospect is to pack up and look for greener pastures in other lands. But not everyone has resources plenty enough to migrate. Not everyone will do well in another man's land. Not everyone will be able to leave their origin. Even if you are able to leave, your roots still run deep in these soils. No matter how far away from here you replant yourself, home will still have a place in your heart. So while you are still home, do your part to make it less of a misery for those who will have to stay.

So, through me, from her, to you...she is crying out desperately to be liberated. As most of us sang during our service year after tertiary education, and as we still do while singing the national anthem, let us heed the clarion call and make this wasteland whole again.

“The one sure way of participating in the process of nation-building is to vote on election day.”

-Mohit Chauhan (Indian playback singer)