“You must be the American of Africa, you are a Nigerian”.
Seven years ago, I took an official trip to Kenya to represent the firm I worked for at the maiden edition of Airtel International Partners Conference. As soon as I walked out of the arrival hall at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, I earnestly began to look for place to charge my phone in order to make a call to my host.
A Good Samaritan who noticed me pacing up and down looking for a socket, walked up to me and asked if I required any assistance. I explained my predicament to him and he invited me to his office to charge my phone and we got into small talk.
Whilst having our conversation, he asked me “Are you an American? I replied “No.” He then said, with a large grin, “wait you must be the American of Africa, you are a Nigerian”. I smiled and nodded. He jumped off his seat and exclaimed, “I knew it, I knew it,” and proceeded to give me a big hug.
The Nigerian Question
Ask any Nigerian today, “What does it mean to be a Nigerian?” and you are sure to get a myriad of responses: Some positive and some not so positive. However, one thing is certain, you will notice that there is growing disillusionment with the nation and the Nigerian question, with complaints at the rapid rate at which our humanity, values, essence and way of life is being eroded.
Day by day, week after week, there is a growing sense of despair with our situation, especially amongst young people, with people turning to drugs such as codeine and tramadol to escape their sad reality, or they choose to risk their lives pursuing the American or European dream by crossing the Sahara desert, while sadly ending up either sold as slaves in Libya, raped, their organs forcefully taken or dead.
Those who have chosen to stay back would rather concentrate on eking out a daily living in an ever increasingly difficult economic climate, and eventually they end up not feeling a sense of national identity or they don’t have any form of loyalty to the country anymore. Others engage in advance fee fraud, now popularly known as “yahoo yahoo,” not caring if the image of Nigeria is rubbished, as long as they make a quick buck.
The growing disillusionment with the Nigerian question is more visible online. Raise an issue and mention Nigeria on any Nigerian online platform and you are likely to read comments that betray the sectional, religious and ethnic bias of commentators. You will also sense that being a Nigerian is now seen as no big deal, with no obligation attached to it, being not particularly worthy of anyone’s time, effort and talent.
…how can we change the Nigerian narrative? We must start by defining the kind of Nigeria we need to create and work towards creating that identity. It starts by taking government to task and rejecting a culture immersed in corruption, lack of value for human life, prejudices, religious bias, tribalism and government irresponsibility…
Citizenship Dilemma
Rooted in the Nigerian identity is the citizenship question. Citizenship is the bedrock of the social contract between those who lead and those who are led, and it is more than a legal designation. It is also a cultural ideal infused with moral meaning, encompassed by normative principles, values, and expectations that all derive from the social, historical, and cultural context of the times.
Being a citizen of Nigeria either by birth or naturalisation entails that one enjoys specific rights, duties and benefits guaranteed by the Constitution and laws of Nigeria.
Unfortunately for us, the social, historical and cultural context of our times have been rather very disappointing. The Constitution, in Section 14 (2) (b), unequivocally spells out as a fundamental objective and directive principle of state policy, that “the security and welfare of the people (of Nigeria) shall be the primary purpose of government.”
Despite the constitutional stipulation, it is becoming difficult for citizens to feel a sense of national identity with their security and peace of mind threatened. Daily, we are regaled with news of our fellow countrymen killed by Fulani herdsmen, bandits, and militia men, and bombed and kidnapped by Boko Haram, with promises that the killings would stop, even as the body count increases.
We hear that Nigeria is for all, yet it is obvious that it is only for the children of the rich. We hear that the youth are the future, but little or no investment is made in education, leaving demoralised teachers and unemployable, half-baked graduates.
We hear that the power situation has improved, but we spend more money buying fuel to run our generators on a weekly basis. We hear that we should fight to make Nigeria one, but we find the government working at cross purpose with the clarion call, by favouring one section of the country to the detriment of others.
We hear that we are the greatest black nation in Africa, yet we are apathetic, passive, and cynical about our own citizens. This is not lost on nationals of other countries, who see it as an invitation to sell our brothers and sisters like goats, abuse, rape and kill us with impunity, with our government openly expressing helplessness rather than fighting for her citizens, as the Americans and Israelis are wont to do.
You and I are handed a work in progress – one that can evolve for good or for ill. Whichever way our country goes is our choice to make. Our nation demands not only our competence in changing the narrative, but also our passion. Let’s make it happen.
We hear that we should love all Nigerians irrespective of tribe, sex and religion, but we fail to promote in Nigeria the necessary cohesion that provides the engine for harmonious growth and development
It is no wonder that over time, most Nigerians have resorted to their primordial and ethnic identities and group affiliations at the expense of a national identity.
A New Nigerian Narrative
Despite it all, the good news is Nigerians still love Nigeria. Nigerians still hope and believe in the country of our dreams. The biggest mistake a non-Nigerian can make is to try to criticise the country or to even innocently join the Nigerian pastime of self-condemnation. That is when you see that, in spite of all the negativity, Nigerians care for this country.
So how can we change the Nigerian narrative? We must start by defining the kind of Nigeria we need to create and work towards creating that identity. It starts by taking government to task and rejecting a culture immersed in corruption, lack of value for human life, prejudices, religious bias, tribalism and government irresponsibility, in order to promote “Nigerianess”, where we all begin to see ourselves as having a common destiny.
There are certain inevitabilities about Nigeria and Nigerians. Our country has a manifest destiny to be one of the greatest countries in the world. It means that all we need do is try by making small, incremental changes in our areas of influence; looking around us, seeing something that needs fixing, and doing something about it. It means we assume responsibility for tending our nation, making it work for all and transmitting it to our children better than we inherited it.
When we do all these things, whenever anyone asks the question: What does it mean to be a Nigerian? It would means that we are blessed to be part of this nation. It would mean that we treat our fellow countrymen with respect. It would mean that we don’t judge anyone by their sex, tribe, religion, or their beliefs but by the content of their character and their competence.
It would mean that we have been fighting and will continue to fight for this country. It would mean that in spite of our struggles and heartaches, we fight for Nigeria and fight to be Nigerian every day. It would mean that we are truly the “Americans of Africa”.
You and I are handed a work in progress – one that can evolve for good or for ill. Whichever way our country goes is our choice to make. Our nation demands not only our competence in changing the narrative, but also our passion. Let’s make it happen.
Benzak Uzuegbu, an estate surveyor and valuer, writes from Lagos.
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