WHAT NOW, NIGERIA? (A CREATIVERSAL PUBLICATION)

I think of the many people living…trying to make a living. People to whom the concept of hope means nothing more than some distant mirage - but they do not question it, they cannot. Partly because we are a religious people, and, frankly, where would they find the time?

I think of these people and I cannot help but wonder what internal infrastructure remains to act as a shock absorber for when, in spite of unfavourable socio-economic and living conditions, bad news strikes.

I speak about the many attacks on lives and property over the years and in recent times, I speak about those who are direct victims of these unfortunate incidents, I speak about those who are live witnesses and those who read about it on the news…

I speak about the Plateau, and the recent, unfortunate killings that happened within her walls. I speak about our beloved Nigeria and her heroic people.

Almost nothing is left of our resilience. Everyday, the standards plummet deeper and we grow increasingly numb; numb to death and news of death, killings, conflicts, kidnappings, robberies, insecurity in general. Our expectations of society, government, and even each other are collapsing towards the bare minimum on a daily basis. With each news of decline or disaster that we hear, and that of progress - never mind that it is snail-like progress - that we do not - and so often we do not - we lose a measure of faith in our nation and take less pride in our nationality.

I sit or I take a stroll and I think about this. What sense can I make of it? What can I do? What is in my power to do? Does it bother me enough? Or must this wind blow in my direction before I am forced to do something?

I am scared. No I'm not…I believe. Nonetheless, if it amounts to any sense to be both, then, by all means, let me. I fear for our direction, for our leadership, for our collective cluelessness. I fear for our future. I have not been a good Nigerian, not by a longshot. I cannot boast about having this country's best interests at heart nor can I say that I think about her a lot. Maybe I was taught to esteem her lightly. Maybe I learned to. Or maybe I gave up on her somewhere along the line. Whatever the case, something tugs at my conscience when I'm able to witness her suffering.

I say "when I'm able" because, like many others, I am not always able to observe and be touched by her suffering. I have grown numb, I have become preoccupied with my own little slice of her. Many times I have wished that I had nothing to do with her, other times I have, somehow, justified my apathy with guilt; "Being so uninvested to begin with, maybe I don't even deserve to be a contributor" …

Regardless, I want to believe. I want to believe in her, I want to think her worthy of me, I want to be proud that I belong in her. I want to write about her and build something lasting within her. I want to speak of her with pride to the next generation, and teach them to do the same. I want to understand what it means to be Nigerian, what it means to wear her kind of black on my skin and carry one of her many dialects on my tongue.

Perhaps, then, I will be more useful to her. Perhaps she is waiting for me to change as much as I am, for her. Perhaps she is waiting for us all.

On this note I feel hope. I begin to feel the grip of helplessness loosen its hold on me. What if there was something I could do? Something that would make a difference - I do not care how small. What if we had more resources at our disposal than we believed? What if things could really change? Gradually but eventually? Inevitably?

We would need to innovate, now more than ever. We would need nationalists; more people willing to put nation and community before self. We would need to abandon all hope in the government as we know it and acquire a new purpose, one that is motivated not by vengeance or even justice and fairness but by a simple passion for nation and people.

On the matter of security, we would need to understand self and community defence, as well as learn situational intelligence. This would include assigning roles, organising security orientations and teaching environmental security assessment, pooling expertise and resources, outsourcing professional needs, establishing rotational security, employing the service of security dogs, practicing evacuation drills, etc. Each person would need to exercise personal fitness and learn basic self defense. To the degree of sophistication that it can, each community must invest in an arsenal situated securely in a strategic location within the community. Leadership and administration at this level must be treated with the utmost importance.

Above all, we would need to trust and pray. For except the Grand Protector watches over a city, the Watchmen watch in vain. (Psalms 127:1)

To our leaders, elected or appointed, across all levels, I say an account would be required of you by the Grand Monarch. If you aspired to a position and by some mercy or device, you reached your aspiration, and instead of requiring, increasingly, more of yourself until you have offered your very best to the point of sheer sacrifice, even emptiness, as should be said of any leader, you drown in the luxury and lose yourself in the benefits, you have failed humanity. You have failed your creator.

And do not blame the crown. Power is a revealer. It accentuates who you truly are. Whatever your intentions were before the throne, this failure is who you truly are. It's who you've always been.

To our genuine leaders, elected or appointed, across all levels, those truly committed to a great vision, strong in character and honest in dealings, pursuing integrity and uprightness better than luxury and physical wealth, not perfect but humble and compassionate, to you I say history will judge and the tales will be in your favour. Posterity will learn of your selfless service and spontaneous sacrifices and your reward will be eternal.

Heroic people of Nigeria, we are not forgotten. Take heart, grieving mother, father, son, daughter, friend, uncle, aunty, grandparent, cousin, nephew, niece. Tomorrow will fare better. The sun will rise again, birds will sing again, the sky will be blue again and time, with your gentle permission, will heal every ache, slowly but surely.

Believe it. - Precious Adinoyi × CREATIVERSE