Yesterday someone asked me why Nigerians
ridicule Nigeria so much so that folks have decided to name the
Nigerian Olympic athletes with such names as “rubber”, “wood” and
“plastic” medallists since they couldn’t win gold, silver or bronze at
the London Games.
The simple answer to that question, I
think, is that for most Nigerians, Nigeria does not exist. Granted, the
physical mien called Nigeria may be practically perceptible, but the
government that drives Nigeria is apparently anonymous and wanting.
Most Nigerians feel it is not binding
upon them to “give back” to a country that they have not “taken” from.
Many Nigerians feel they were born in a country that is completely
putrid. For example, the paroxysm of angst that frustrates Nigerians due
to electricity scarcity in the country has haunted our national psyche
for years.
Many Nigerians have never lived in a
Nigeria that boasts of round-the-clock electricity. Many Nigerians do
not know how it feels to travel in Nigeria with a minimal road traffic
discomfort. Many Nigerians do not know how it feels to live in a house
un-caged, without (what Nigerians call) “burglar-proof” windows, thanks
to the insecurity.
Young Nigerians do not know what it
feels like to attend a university without university strikes. The
examples are endless. But the point I seek to make is that too many a
Nigerian have never lived the life of their dream: a life in absolute
tranquillity. Most Nigerians harbour a life that is spent in the
constant fear of what it is like to live in an atmosphere of terror, not
knowing who or what will strike next.
Quintessentially, young Nigerians have
never felt the presence of a government; they usually owe their
significant and trivial successes to the individual and collective
sacrifices of family and friends.
But let us look at the other side of the
coin. In a country like America and other serious nations, an
individual starts to benefit from the government right from infancy:
you’re given a free and compulsory good quality education, and you are
constantly reminded that with hard work and perseverance, a better
future awaits.
I have seen a sick, bedridden American
whose last words on earth were that he was proud to be American. I do
not know any up-and-doing (perhaps the opposite of bedridden?) Nigerian
who maintains that he is proud to be Nigerian!
Because they are grateful to their
country, many Americans wilfully keep US flags and other statist symbols
in their homes so that these icons can constantly remind them of what
they owe their country: gratitude. I have never in my life seen a
Nigerian flag in the private residence of any Nigerian. According to the
grapevine, Nigerians do not feel they owe anything to their country
and/or government. No wonder they exhibit a persistent disconnect
between them and the symbols of their country.
Until the Nigerian people start to feel
the presence of a government in the delicate phases of their personal
lives, they will not only stop at ridicule, they’ll always cling to
narrow parochial interests before sovereign national interests.
In brusqueness, Nigerian leaders are
known to always cast disparaging remarks on Nigerians, whom they claim
do not have faith in them. Who will tell them that faith is not entirely
a self-coloured affair? Who will tell them that the citizenry of
Nigeria, like in other parts of the world, can only be devoted to that
which is devoted to their personal causes? Does this explanation give
any tip-off on why it takes two to tango?
Source BusinessDay NewsPaper
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