We live in difficult times. We also live in fearful times. Hunger stalks the land. Inflation stings.
Everywhere you look, you see people wearing long faces. The land is green. The sun blazes forth in its majestic glory everyday.
The heavens give off their dew and rain, but there is no food in the land.
We are caught in the throes of the lamentation of the Mariner in, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,”(Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1797-1798).
“Water, water everywhere,” he cried to no one in particular, “but not a drop to drink.”
Whither Nigeria?
By now, since the first kidnapping of Oil workers was reported in the Niger Delta in the dying days of the Obasanjo administration, everyone in Nigeria must know someone who knows someone who has been kidnapped.
I do.
The last time I spoke with my childhood friend was on November 27th, 2019. He had asked for help to travel by road from Lagos to Abuja. I sent him some money. He never called to say he had received it. A few weeks later, after no one had heard from him, I got a call. If anyone knew his whereabouts, I should. I did not. I was in the United States, receiving treatment for prostate cancer.
We never heard from him again. There’s not a day that passes that I do not call out his name. He was my best friend. We were psychological anchors and Christian accountability advocates for each other. I could tell him my sins. He could tell me his.
Whenever I needed a hand, he gave me two. When he needed a hand, I gave him two in return. I will never hear his voice again. I shall call his name every day until the day I take my last breath.
Kidnapping in Nigeria is multi-dimensional. The kidnappers in the bush are kindergartners, and trainees. The real kidnappers are the elite who dot the Nigerian landscape from Sokoto to Calabar and everywhere in between.
They are our past and present national leaders. Our past Governors, military and civilian. Our past and present NNPC and Central Bank heads and their subordinates. Our contractors who burden society with uncompleted projects. Our Bank managers. Our Vice Chancellors and lecturers. Our Local Government Chairmen, and Councillors. Our Permanent Secretaries, and Directors in Ministries. Our Pastors. Our Alfas, and Babalawos. Our teachers, and Principals. Our Monarchs, and their courtiers. Our workers, and our managers in our small businesses.
Everyone has a hand in the cookie jar.
The children of today will grow up with few options as their future may have been kidnapped by the Governor who chooses to buy 20 houses in Dubai, and London instead of building schools.
Because the young man breathes, he must exist, one way or another.
He looks to the right. There are no factories where he can attempt to earn a living. He goes to the Church, and he sees millions raining down on the pastor. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in his head. He reasons to himself: I can read and write. I can talk. No one will hire me. I still have some ethics and morality left in me. I cannot be a thief or a kidnapper in the bush. It’s too risky. It does not take much to be a pastor. I will go back to the Church next Sunday and answer the Altar call. I will join Sunday School. I will record every sermon. I can start my own Church, fake a few miracles, scream my head off in tongues.
I too can be a kidnapper with dignity.
The man in a contest to be Vice Chancellor gives a sum of N40m to the Chairman of the screening committee in a Ghana-must-go bag. He loses the election. He goes back to the Chairman to complain. The Chairman, not wanting any trouble, gives back his bag of money intact.
She got a better offer. It’s business as usual.
The newly anointed Vice Chancellor begins his work to kidnap funds meant for research and infrastructure for the university. Students graduate. They are unemployable. I have interacted with many of them. I am an employer of labor. Is it any wonder why many now believe that education is a scam?
The North is a basket case. 20 million Almajiris without education and without skills have been groomed into eternal dirt-poor poverty by their political leaders and Emirs. They are without hope.
The South is a little bit manageable. The boys know how to hustle. The girls know how to market themselves. The Southern poor has many avenues. In local lingo,—“Last, last, I can be a yahoo boy or Malaysia hustler,” a euphemism for ritualist.
This is why whenever I read headlines that scream—let’s break up the country—the North is our problem—Fulani domination is our problem—-let’s get a new Constitution—-I ask my fellow countrymen—-Is your Governor Fulani? Is your Deputy Governor a Northerner? Does anyone need a Constitution to leave public funds alone? Everyone goes quiet.
In January, two Yoruba Obas were killed by kidnappers in Ekiti State.
Last week, an Emir was kidnapped in Sokoto State.
That is equal opportunity, Federal Character spread of evil.
The kidnappers of the Emir demanded a small ransom of N1B. The family raised some money. It was not enough. The Emir was killed. His son asked for his body so they could at least bury their father with dignity. The kidnappers asked for N60m, and 5 motorcycles in order for them to release his body. The ransom was paid. His body has been released to his family.
We are in a conundrum.
Nigeria has been kidnapped.
Who will rescue Nigeria?
Michael O. Ovienmhada.
Publisher/Editor-in-Chief.
Egogonewshub.com
This is a thought provoking piece. The Nigerian nation has now become a very unsafe country. The reason for this is due to the failure of both the leadership and followership in the country. There have been lots of corruption cases that have not been concluded till date and may never be concluded. People are given opportunities to preside over the affairs of our entities and they get there and steal the resources of the entity and nothing will happen to them. Until the followership begins to demand true accountability from those trusted with our common patrimony, we will continue to wallow in pains.
True talk, my friend. I love the flow of your writing. We will be glad to get articles from your stable from time to time. We are looking for First Class Writers.
Praying for the restoration of our beloved nation.