In this same country

There is today in Nigeria an entire generation of Nigerian-passport wielding men and women who do not actually know, to borrow Achebe’s words that indeed “there was once a country”. These children born in a season of austerity, and raised during the years that the locusts ate, have become angry citizens. They are angry because they live in a country that makes them feel less worthy than the human standard. The only Nigeria that they know is a country that makes them feel ashamed of their own origins. Many of them have enjoyed the privilege of foreign education and exposure to some of the best traditions in other parts of the world, but when they return to their own country, right from the airport, the snow of failure and inefficiency strikes them in the face.

The angst of this young generation is made worse when they are told that Nigeria was not always like this. In their late 20s to thirties, these children have only known that Nigeria where fuel scarcity is a fact of daily life. These children have only known a country where the roads are bad, services are sub-standard, people are mean, criminality is rife, and electricity is available once in a blue moon.

What they know is a country where the pastors and malams are better known for lying, swearing, cheating, calling the name of God in vain. These angry children are no longer proud of the green passport; because the Constitution allows dual citizenship, they’d rather grab the citizenship of another country.

The anger and the nonchalance of this generation of Nigerians is the pain and the agony of an older generation that knew a different country before all things went wrong. Our generation and the generation before us knew a different country. And because that is so, memory is an affliction, a source of torment, nostalgia and regret. Those who lived in that other country and are still alive could not have forgotten so soon.

How could we have forgotten? That this was once a Nigerians where we felt at home in virtually any part of the country. Igbos lived peacefully in the North, and Fulani herdsmen were at peace with other Nigerians, and there was no issue with the planting of yams or the grazing of cattle. In this same country, Southerners lived for decades in the North, acquired property and spoke the language of their hosts. There was a civil war yes, and things began to change but even after the war, it was never this bad. But today, things have fallen apart.

There is no open civil war, but this country is at war on all fronts, the worst fronts being the ethnic, the religious and the political, and these post-civil war children just can’t understand why the generations of their fathers and grandmothers can’t run an efficient country. They hear about the big names of Nigerian history, the statesmen who fought for independence, but the historical figures who have made the biggest impression on them are the ones who ruined the nation with their acts of omission and commission.

In this same country, the Naira used to be at par with the pound and was for many years stronger than the dollar. Everyone in London knew the Nigerians. There was Nigeria Airways.It was the pride of the nation. A trip from Lagos to Calabar in those days was just N44! Students enjoyed rebates too.

In this same country, once upon a time, public transportation was impressive. The railway system worked too, and one of the most prestigious jobs was to be a railway staff. Today, railway transportation looks like something we are trying to reinvent.

Once upon a time in this same country, those who sent their children abroad did so majorly out of choice, not necessity, because Nigerian schools were among the best in the continent and the world.

Parents sent their own children to their alma mater out of loyalty, and regard for tradition. That pattern of grandfather, father and son attending the same secondary school seems to have ended. The younger generation reflects on all this: they can’t understand why a country that still prides itself as the giant of Africa cannot run a decent education system or provide jobs.

In this same county, we used to have industrial estates. In Lagos, Apapa, Ikeja and Isolo were industrial estates. In Kaduna, Jos, and Enugu, manufacturing companies created jobs and wealth. Sad: many of those factories have become churches!

Once upon a time in this same country, there was so much hope about tomorrow. Salaries were paid as and when due. State governments offered students bursaries and scholarships. School was attractive because the teachers were dedicated and they were smart.

But, sorry, we lost it all. And the rains began to beat us. The victims are the younger ones who have not known any other country but this new one. The danger is: they may never know how to make a difference when they inherit this poisoned chalice called Nigeria.