Last Wednesday—the 54th anniversary of Nigeria’s Independence—was a
day of silence for me. I didn’t have the stomach to leave any comment on
Facebook or Twitter. Two or three friends and family members sent me texts of
felicitation. Demure, I merely wrote back: Thanks!
But at the back of my mind I was thinking, What is all the fuss about?
What was one supposed to celebrate?
Last Wednesday, Nigeria reminded me of nothing so much as—to invoke the
title of Wole Soyinka’s short polemical book—an open (festering) sore.
I know: many super-“patriotic” Nigerians now insist that, before one
says a critical word about our dear, dear Nigeria, one must first pause to
count the country’s blessings. So let’s count them.
Blessing Number One: We all woke up on October 1, 2014 and Nigeria was
still there. As we Nigerians love to say, nothing spoil. We still had our
transformational president sitting pretty in Abuja, he and his beloved wife
amused to see all the “transformation ambassadors” staging rallies all over the
country to draft him to run again, to win again (by a landslide of course), and
to, once again, bestow on us that magic rule of his that created so much
prosperity that Nigerians raced to the front ranks of private jet ownership in
the world.
We still had all our 36 (executive) governors at various perches, doing
what they know best: totally redefining every aspect of governance in their
various states. If these governors ever leave their kingdoms, it is usually for
one of two reasons. One is to go to Abuja to collect the handouts that enable
them to do achieve all those revolutionary achievements, chief among them being
paying salaries and keeping traditional rulers, contractors and other “stakeholders”
happy. Sometimes too, when they have a headache, fever or a faint hint of
diarrhea, these gubernatorial geniuses make jaunts to hospitals in Germany,
France, the US or UK (which, unbeknownst to some ignoramuses, are Nigeria’s
37th, 38th, 39th and 40th states).
We also had our distinguished senators and honorable members of the
House of Reps in place, ever focused on the extraordinary legislative duty of
mastering how to spell the word “bill” and the noble job of counting their
constituency allowance, to ensure that not a single naira is missing.
Nigeria was still standing, yes, but does that really rate as a
blessing? Not if you ask the growing number of Nigerians who can’t wait to be
ex-Nigerians. Not if you factor in all the disenfranchised, disaffected
Nigerians hankering to live in the Republic of Biafra, or the Oduduwa Kingdom,
or the Sovereign Oil States of the Niger Delta, or the Gwoza Caliphate ruled by
Boko Haram’s anti-book aristocracy).
Blessing Number Two: In January this year, Jim O’Neill, an economist
with an uncanny ability to foresee the future, bracketed Nigeria—along with
Mexico, Indonesia and Turkey—as the world economy’s new (growing) kids on the
block. The dibia-economist coined the acronym MINT to represent these four
emergent economic powerhouses. Like any dibia worth his gourd of palm wine, Mr.
O’Neill let it be known that his cowry shells whispered to him that this
economic miracle would come to pass only if the MINT nations “reach their
potential.” I have searched hard and long, but couldn’t find where he ever said
that “potential” refers to the size of security vote pocketed each month by
state governors or the number of private jets owned by bankers, politicians,
transformation ambassadors, and pastors.
Blessing Number Three: In April, Nigeria surpassed South Africa as
Africa’s largest economy, when the Gross Domestic Product is the scale used. In
sheer derring-do, the news was like Arsenal coming back from 0-2 at halftime to
trounce Man U 4-2. Except that, in reality, Nigeria had long been ahead of
South Africa, only that the keepers of our economic data had chosen for decades
not to update GDP. Once Nigerian statisticians got to the revision, the country’s
GDP for 2012 shot up from $264 billion to $453 billion. Even so, South Africa—whose
GDP per capita is $7,508—still dusts Nigeria at $2,688.
Blessing Number Four: Boko Haram is no longer quite the indomitable,
invincible foe it was several weeks ago. At any rate, Nigerian soldiers have
proved themselves capable of standing toe to toe with the Islamists whose idea
of progress is to slaughter, maim or abduct as many innocents as possible, and
whose ultimate fantasy of self-attainment is to ravish 72 virgins in
Never-Never land.
With these “blessings,” why did I find it impossible to exult last
Wednesday? Why did I not break out a bottle of red wine and toast Nigeria’s
birthday?
Quite simply because, abstract economic data aside, Nigeria is still a
country in reverse gear presuming to be headed forward; its narrative remains
one of failure in the areas that matter most. If you audit Nigeria for the
signs of vital national health, you’re bound to be alarmed at your findings.
A nation that thrives is one that has a central organic and lofty idea
that animates it, lends it and its people an identity, and shapes their journey
of growth and renewal. What is that idea in Nigeria? I’m afraid that the
closest thing is the relentless, depraved pursuit of lucre. A perceptive
commentator once offered a wise crack that I have borrowed a few times: that
too many Nigerians see life as a rat race, without reckoning that the winner of
such a race remains a rat!
A thriving nation demonstrates a profound respect for the rule of law.
No sane person would accuse Nigeria of being a place with an abiding sense of
the rule of law. Just last week, a commentator on a listserv wrote something
that struck powerfully at the heart of the Nigerian malaise. It is unlawful, he
quipped, to be law abiding in Nigeria. At first blush, the statement would seem
flippant, even a tad malicious. But is it truly a mean-spirited exaggeration?
Hardly!
Just take a look at the roll of recipients of national honors in
Nigeria. Each year, those who draw up the list of recipients seem actuated by a
macabre sense of honor. Many honorees should be spending time in what the Igbo
call nga mkpulu oka—hard labor in jail! Yet, there they are, held up as
embodiments of the national ideal, encouraged to strut the national stage,
regardless of the fact that they pollute the space for the truly honorable who—perhaps
accidentally—make it to the register of honor.
Each day, in the name of partisan political advantage, men and women
accused (sometimes convicted) of corruption and other grave crimes are
rehabilitated, named to government committees, or beckoned to the supposedly
hallowed halls of power.
Fifty-four years after we told the British that we could no longer stand
their humiliating rule, we are still crawling like unsteady toddlers when we
should be firm and robust in our gait. We have not figured out how to count
ourselves to know for sure—not as guesswork—how many people we are. We have not
mastered how to keep a credible register of voters, much less how to conduct
incontrovertibly sound elections. Fifty-four years later, we haven’t achieved a
police force that truly fights crime. Instead, we are stuck with officers who,
too often, give comfort to high-powered criminals but offer pure misery to
poor, innocent citizens. We have too many civil servants and public officials
who raid public funds and get away with it. We have too many magistrates and
justices who can’t spell independence, too many who view the bench as an
auction block from which to sell judgments to the highest bidder.
Fifty-four years later, Nigeria has no healthcare system worthy of the
name. The rich fly away to Ghana, South Africa, India, the UK or some European
nation; the poor resign themselves to a slow death in ill-equipped Nigerian hospitals;
and the truly desperate troop to miracle-hawking pastors and imams. How about
an educational policy—where is one?
Fifty-four years after Independence, many a Nigerian governor can look
his people in the face and declare that one of his achievements is the payment
of salaries. And he can often count on receiving an applause!
Last Wednesday, the only urgency I felt was to apologize from my heart
to those who toiled that we may achieve this strange bequest called Independent
Nigeria.
Please follow me on Twitter @okeyndibe.
Source: Sahara Reporters
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