Five Years After #EndSARS: The Blood on the Green and White Still Cries for Justice

By Ayininuola Oluwaseyifunmi

The green and white flag waving since 1960 was once a beacon of hope, a symbol of strength and resilience, a nation with so much potential, destined to be one of the world’s greatest. Sixty years and twenty days later, bullets were fired at her children by those who swore to protect, guard, and defend them. Why? All because they dared to ask for a better nation. A better future. A better country. A better Nigeria. The green and white flag that once flew with pride was stained with the blood of her own.

Five years have passed since that fateful night of October 20, 2020, when peaceful protesters at the Lekki Toll Gate were met with gunfire as they sang the national anthem and waved the Nigerian flag. The haunting echoes of their voices still linger in the nation’s consciousness, a rallying cry that has come to represent both courage and tragedy.

Today, Nigeria stands at a crossroads between remembrance and reform. The End SARS movement, an uprising against police brutality, was more than a protest. It was a generational awakening. But five years later, many wonder: what has changed?

Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, the prophetic voice of resistance, once sang, “My people self, dem fear too much… dem leave Sufferhead, dem go for school, dem go for work, dem no want fight.” His words sting even more today, as the same cycles of oppression, silence, and disillusionment persist decades after his song was released. The “Unknown Soldier” of his 1979 album has become a chilling metaphor for unaccountability in modern Nigeria.

If nationalists like Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, Sir Ahmadu Bello, Obafemi Awolowo, and Nnamdi Azikiwe could see the Nigeria of today, they would weep for the dream they once carried. These were the visionaries who fought for freedom, self-determination, and justice. They envisioned a Nigeria where governance would serve, not suppress. Yet, decades after independence, the ideals they championed seem to have been traded for power without purpose, leadership without conscience, and democracy without empathy.

The End SARS movement did not end in 2020; it evolved. It reshaped civic consciousness and reawakened a generation unafraid to speak truth to power. From the streets of Lagos to Aba to Kano to Gombe, to the corridors of global forums, Nigerians continue to amplify the cry for justice, reform, and accountability.

But for many families, justice remains elusive. The panels set up in the aftermath of the massacre yielded reports, recommendations, and headlines, but little action. Lives were lost, dreams shattered, families torn apart and trust eroded. Yet, from the ashes of despair, new voices continue to rise. Artists, writers, activists, and ordinary citizens still find ways to remind the nation of what happened and why it must never be forgotten.

Five years later, inflation soars higher than ever, insecurity is a constant headline, youth unemployment grows, and hope flickers dimly. The same frustrations that fueled the End SARS movement, abuse of power, failed promises, unpaid salaries, and poor governance, remain unresolved. Yet, amid the despair, the Nigerian spirit endures.

The world watched in 2020. The world remembers in 2025. And Nigeria must not forget, for forgetting is the first step to repeating. Today, as we remember, the green and white flag waves again, not just as a symbol of what is, but of what could still be. The fight for justice, reform, and true nationhood continues because those who died at Lekki did not die in vain.

Ayininuola Oluwaseyifunmi is a final-year student of English at the University of Lagos. He dreams of becoming the President of Nigeria someday.