Don’t just pray for Nigeria
In front of us was the women sanitary ware tray; he packed different types of pads, as they are called, while I stood there watching: Spar Ultra Plus, Everyday Hyperdry, Always, Comfort and several tampons for same purpose. I could not help telling him, “Sir, these are sanitary wares, for women, different types.” He interjected. […]
In front of us was the women sanitary ware tray; he packed different types of pads, as they are called, while I stood there watching: Spar Ultra Plus, Everyday Hyperdry, Always, Comfort and several tampons for same purpose. I could not help telling him, “Sir, these are sanitary wares, for women, different types.” He interjected. “I did not know, I actually thought…” he muted in my language and we both laughed. He thought it was some kind of foreign stuff (this I also cannot say, because it was too embarrassing).
That was a Senator, armed with several thousands of chop money; he could not even read the pack of what he thought it was. And many of us are praying for the success of his likes, hoping against hope, praying for a magic, at best a miracle.
Over the last week, I equally took time to reflect on some of the issues that trouble Nigeria, the question of the Nigerian myth, the question of how we got here, where we were and where we should have been despite all the prayers.
We are an odd people, very strange nation, a nation where leaders destroy infrastructures or at least refuse to provide them, steal and loot the nation dry and grossly display such wealth and we reward them with state awards, universities honouraries and traditional titles.
We are so concerned about the president, when a host of us will never meet or have never met our local councillor and demand accountability of any form. Many do not even know the name of the local government chairman except he is a brother or relation that has denied us one borehole contract or gave us one invitation to come “join and chop”.
We lambast the president (because his inaction makes that task painfully easy), while our local streets are paved with death-traps. After 50 years, the closest we have come to development is 1, 2, and 3 performing governors out of 36. Thirty-six governors whose closest solution to paying legitimately earned N18K to civil servants is to remove fuel subsidy that Nigerians know little about. Yet these men dare not tell Nigerians what they do with billions of unaccounted security votes. Neither can any Nigerian governor tell his state the exact amount he earns.
I am rattled many a times at the kind of breed we are, a nation blessed with individual successes and drawn back by collective failure because group success as a nation eludes us. How much does an LGA boss earn, how much does all the Special advisers, not-so-special advisers, assistants and female massage officers, baggage/mobile phone carriers cost a state like Gombe, Ekiti or Abia that gets peanuts from the federation account?
We agree that for example Akwa Ibom gets more than Plateau, Nasarawa and Bauchi put together, but the governors of the same state would buy same luxury SUVs, and strangely the one from Bauchi would have more aides, more cars, go on more foreign trips for investments that never come and we allude to sanity when we are at best delusional.
These days I smile when we heap encomiums on the likes of Fashola, Rotimi, and recently the new kid on the bloc Rochas. In comparative terms, I agree they are saints but in terms of deliverables, are they not products of a peoples’ chronic low expectation?
We defend, endorse, pray and hold thanksgiving services for certified thieves because of ethnic cleavages. We all seek personal relevance, it’s a case of when my time comes I will use the naira note for wallpapers in my rest room, and we make rocket science of good governance, and give excuses at every opportunity that presents itself.
We defend the indefensible, a man of god that serves the god of men makes a collection of private jets and runs universities that his members cannot afford and we say we are praying for our leaders while poverty runs riot and we engage in theological correctness.
We are a nation geographically endowed yet continually cloned with masquerades as leaders and people. We have good Nigerians, but too little, too negligible in comparison to the bad ones.
My simple summation is that we; you and I, that spend hours praying, doing nothing, praying for leaders that are ordinarily from amongst us but become tin gods and are ready to pounce on us, telling us that no court can try them, living in stupendous splendour with no care and fleecing us, are the problem
Next time you are asked to pray for Nigeria…say no, pray for yourself…the problem is you, it’s me; we are the problem. There is no need for a key if we do not know where the lock is, prayer without works is dead.
Dickson is Editor, burningpot.com