Nigeria’s semi-final victory: A tale of several sides
Since language is my primary constituency, I find it instructive to inform the readership that “several” as an adjective has a similar but different meaning from “many”. While “many” would mean “consisting of some large but indefinite number”, “several” means “an amount that is not exact but fewer than many”. Other dictionaries define “several” as […]
Flying Eagles players during a training session in Morocco before 2023 AFCON in Egypt
Since language is my primary constituency, I find it instructive to inform the readership that “several” as an adjective has a similar but different meaning from “many”. While “many” would mean “consisting of some large but indefinite number”, “several” means “an amount that is not exact but fewer than many”. Other dictionaries define “several” as “more than two but fewer than many”. As inconsequential as this introduction is to the concern of this article, it can count as another infinitesimal contribution from me towards bettering lives linguistically; hence, putting me in a position to ask people in some quarters ways they matter to this country that has made them matter.
Felicitations are, of course, in place for the keenly contested victory of the Nigerian team at the semi-final of the 2024 African Cup of Nations. But dear Nigerians, was the victory worth a life, not to say lives? Getting first to my ears as some random talks, I finally decided to ask Google a simple question: did some Nigerians die during the semi-final match against South Africa in Afcon 2024?
The number of articles that popped up reporting deaths made me teary. Am I one of the emotional weaklings who are not thick-skinned towards sad news in Nigeria? How are we moving on silently and unbothered? From the KWASU deputy bursar to the corps member serving in Adamawa State, and the former member of the House of Representatives in the National Assembly, I asked myself without anyone to answer me or even me having an answer myself: what is a life worth in Nigeria? Finally, my deep thought whispered in my two ears simultaneously, “Young man, a life is worth nothing in your beloved country”. “May it not be me that died” was my next thought, but some thoughts rivalled that immediately such as: “But what if it were you?”, “Who wished it were they?” And the biggest of the questions: “Who and who are on the queue of death now that we are playing the final?” Yes. May it not be me. May it not be you. But who should it be? We are very religious people in Nigeria so we can pray that the victory does not come through penalty shots so that no one’s health situation gets triggered. But is that the point? What does that change? Wasn’t the roll of death recorded during the semi-final a reflection of the death rate in a country without a death record?
I want to conclude this piece by saying I don’t have a conclusion. I have presented casually in this short lamentation called article a critical situation because the Yoruba, my people, say: “When an issue is beyond cry, we laugh about it”. There is no need to make recommendations to people who know what to do. Posterity will judge us all.
Ganiu Bamgbose, PhD wrote via [email protected]