When I first saw the electronic flier for this Freedom Rally and the creative way the word ‘My’ was inserted in the statement, “This is Nigeria,” it looked like an omission or at best an afterthought. But, of course, “My” was inserted the way it was to project the mission statement of citizens who have awakened to the responsibilities of making their nation great.
When you say, “This is My Nigeria,” you exude a contagious sense of pride in your national identity. Now, that doesn’t mean you deny the undesirable realities of the status quo. Rather, when you say, “This is My Nigeria,” you see beyond those sad realities.
You see beyond the extreme poverty that has earned us the infamous title of the poverty capital of the world; you see beyond the institutionalised corruption that has perpetuated widespread poverty, violence and underdevelopment; you see beyond the atrocities of Boko Haram, criminal herdsmen, cattle rustlers, kidnappers and armed bandits across the country; you see beyond the excesses of those in whom public power is vested, from politicians to preachers; you see beyond the corruption and criminality of some bad apples in the carts of such security agencies as the Nigeria Police Force and the Special Anti-Robbery Squad; you see beyond the fallen standards of education and the incessant strikes and school closures that turn four-year degrees to extended lessons in endurance and longsuffering; you see beyond hospitals that double as graveyards; you see beyond the highways to the afterlife that are our roads.
Sometime in 2012, I watched a video detailing the official visit of Prime Minister Tafawa Balewa to the United States of America as this world power sought the friendship of Nigeria. I was moved to tears when I saw the great respect accorded the Nigerian Prime Minister by the US… The astonishing height Nigeria had fallen from dawned on me and I wept uncontrollably
In short, when you say, “This is My Nigeria,” you remix Folarin Falana, a.k.a. Falz the Bahd Guy, son of my compatriot, Femi Falana, whose satirical song, “This is Nigeria,” made the headlines for its creative portrayal of the sorry state of our nation. When you say, “This is My Nigeria,” you reject the status quo, pledge to be personally responsible for the change you desire, and commit to working tirelessly towards the emergence of the Nigeria of your dream. This is the tenacity of purpose that true patriots adhere to; the extraordinary commitment that die hard nationalists make towards the emancipation of their nation and people.
Fellow Nigerians, I am here to take you on a journey from the past through the present to the future. I am here to reconnect you to the dreams of our fathers in the hope that your dream and mine can interlock and become an unstoppable force, jointly engaging the powers that be for the Nigeria of our dream.
Our Past, Present and Future
Fifty-eight years ago, as the British flag, the Union Jack, was lowered, and the “Green-White-Green” Nigerian flag was hoisted, Africa and the world were in awe of the newly born and highly promising Nigerian state. As Britain handed administration over to Nigeria, even the former colonial masters noted:
Now the last elements of British administration have been withdrawn and a great new nation emerges – a nation of 35 million people who have put their faith in the democratic life and whose voice will command respect throughout Africa, the Commonwealth and the world.
Nigeria began to make great infrastructural strides, setting records on the continent and beyond, from opening the first television station, to building the first skyscraper in tropical Africa, courtesy of Chief Obafemi Awolowo of the Western Region. Such was Nigeria’s status in the world that barely had she attained independence when she became an authoritative champion of African liberation at the United Nations.
Sometime in 2012, I watched a video detailing the official visit of Prime Minister Tafawa Balewa to the United States of America as this world power sought the friendship of Nigeria. I was moved to tears when I saw the great respect accorded the Nigerian Prime Minister by the United States; I wept when I saw the confidence and poise with which he addressed the US Congress. The astonishing height Nigeria had fallen from dawned on me and I wept uncontrollably.
The tears were not prompted by the realisation that the world’s perception of Nigeria has changed for the worse since 1961; after all, I recognise that our problem is much more than an international image gone sour; I wept, not just because, since then, Nigeria has hardly had any Head of State with the eloquence of Tafawa Balewa; after all, I am aware that Nigeria’s leadership challenge is much more than the absence of oratory; I wept, not just because it reminded me that there was a time when the naira was a celebrated legal tender in the commercial capitals of the world; I wept, not just because “419” is now presumed to be the first three digits of the passport numbers of nearly all Nigerians; I wept, not just because, instead of being celebrated, Nigerians visiting other countries are now tolerated and presumed guilty until proven innocent; yes, my heart was broken by these contrasts, but much more than these, I wept because I saw a great dream lie in ruins.
Like the child of promise neglected, abused and plundered by those who ought to nurture her, Nigeria is in a sorry state compared to the dreams of our fathers. Our actions and inactions, as a nation, have turned the Nigerian dream into a nightmare. Some of the younger listeners may wonder how she got here.
Every time political leaders and their collaborators loot the nation’s resources, the child of promise is being strangled by those who were employed to nurture her. Every time Captains of Industry enrich themselves at the expense of the nation, the child of promise is being enslaved for gain by her benefactors. Every time the Nigerian people refuse to speak up for truth and justice, and prefer rather to look the other way because they are too afraid or are benefiting from the status quo, the child of promise is in danger of bleeding to death.
Now, we have on our hands a nation that is in the intensive care unit of the universe; but rather than allow her to go through the necessary restorative surgery, we have opted to manage her debilitating condition with policy prescriptions that merely address symptoms. In a sense, we have attempted to treat cancer with cough syrup. We are so vested in allocations from oil wealth from the Niger Delta that we cannot consent to the life-saving restructuring surgical procedure that the nation badly needs.
Our national creative subconscious mind is modelled along the frame of our geopolitical structure. We think along the unitary model of our economy, that is why we are a largely monotonous nation with little in terms of innovation compared to what we could do. The subconscious but misleading notion that we will always have oil revenue to fall back on is responsible for our national laziness. It is that mindset that has squandered the economic resources from the oil rich zone of our country; it is that mindset that has locked up the economic potential of the other zones; it is that mindset that has limited the pace at which we have been able to diversify our economy. This is the real reason for the sufferings of Nigerians and the government can only disrupt that mindset by restructuring the nation!
Being an abridged version of a speech delivered by Pastor Bakare at the Freedom Rally, courtesy House of Freedom, in Lagos.
Read the full text online www.thepointng.com
Pastor Tunde Bakare is the Serving Overseer, Latter Rain Assembly, and Convener, Save Nigeria Group (SNG).
