I’ve heard stories of a time not perfect, but pleasant enough.
The old days, when our land was worth everything, our name had some dignity and respect, rich with nuts, grains and tubers, when a coin could feed a man, and a man was sure of his daily bread.
A time far from the shrouds of this present.
I was taught that a good leader protects, not oppress. He leads his people, and not bleed them.
Our leaders have failed us. There government has plagued us . Every law they have made, they have broken, yet we suffer the punishment for their many sins.
They have become a cancer, scourging this land like a wild fire.
This flame of corruption, fueled by greed, devouring dreams, hopes and aspirations.
A land flowing with milk and honey, endowed with natures beauty, yet amidst all that, hunger and wretch ravages.
Amidst our plenty, our belly’s are still empty. We beg and claw for what is rightfully ours.
I have become a foreigner in my own father land, treated worse than a fugitive.
Every day, I wake to embrace yet another vice, yet another government theft, there’s always an ill news, no end to the vices, no end to the foul acts.
We are made to absorb the mindset, that we must steal and kill in order to live and survive.
These vices have attained a level of normalcy, a point where we now see them as routine.
A few have made themselves gods amongst us, ruling with absolute power and authority.
The law protects them, not us. The resources feed them, not all. We have no say, only obey.
They say a laborer deserves his wages, but in most states, the citizens labor in vain with little or no wage from the government.
How long will we endure, I fear we have embraced this fate.
Like leeches, they wouldn’t let go. An unending wave of ravaging plagues in the form of ill leaders, sinking their fangs deep in the veins of our land, sucking it dry of its life.
Soldiers on an unending battle with insurgents, a fight they know not its true intent, claiming the lives of fathers, brothers and sons. Yet huge funds are disbursed to proper equipped our soldiers, where these funds go, we know not.
Men of arms sent into battle, with little or no arms. A fight that could have ended long ago, lingers till this day.
The light of our land has grown dimmer, the fog of despair ever growing, suffering the light in our young from shining.
When will it end, is this all we are, is this all we can be.
Is this the future promised me, is this the Nigerian dream.
I tear not for me, but for the future unborn.
A reality they will unwilling embrace as we have.
Faces stripped of hope, pain hidden in smiles, vice engineered by hunger and absence of basic human needs.
Every day feels colder, lesser dreams, greater nightmares. The undying cry for peace and stability ignored, the echoes of an impending doom, the coming of an inevitable rift.
Should we cower and accept this fate, or be brave and defy it.
That a child of no prominent background or status, should be devoid of hope of someday assuming a prominent political position.
Is this the future for the unborn, is this the path we choose to pave, to become an index of all that is bad.
A nation full of green, now driving its young, on an unending search and quest for greener pastures, an irony.
Our resources shared like spoils from war amongst a few.
An unending wave of graduates with no means of livelihood, what a mockery is made of the time and funds spent on education.
Our land has bred an atmosphere where the weak perish at the hands of the strong.
A land held by the fragile hands of hope.
Where did we go wrong, How did we come by this fate.
Come Nigeria, let us all sit together and resolve to cleanse the land of its filth. This is a problem for all.
Procrastination is an enemy of progress, if we choose to ignore these plight plaguing our land, we will only wake someday to a world of regret.
We have everything, yet in this abundance, we have nothing.
This is our land, its longevity is in our hands.
Someone once said, the easiest way for evil to thrive, is when good men do nothing.
Our land, our heritage, our Nigeria.