A Yoruba proverb says, “Afefe ti fe, a ti ri furo Adiye,” loosely translating to, “The wind has blown, and we now see the fowl’s rear.” This proverb perfectly encapsulates Nigeria’s current state of affairs. The government’s lackadaisical approach to managing the country’s affairs has reached an alarming degree of mortification. Consequently, this leaves the average citizen – those who have been toiling and providing for themselves without government assistance – in a state of utter helplessness. Nigerians are, without a doubt, some of the most resilient people I know. However, this resilience is sorely tested when those in power continually obstruct their efforts to navigate through the chaos they’ve created.
In 2016, I arrived in the US to pursue my Doctorate degree. For the first time in my life, I experienced a continuous power supply that didn’t falter, even for a moment. The internet was as readily available as the air I breathed. The roads were excellently maintained, and the police officers diligently performed their duties. It made me wonder, why couldn’t Nigeria offer the same to its citizens?
During my time at the University of Ibadan, I took pride in studying by candlelight, braving the late-night walks from my hostel to the administrative block just to access the WIFI using leaked Faculty’s passwords. Strangely enough, I found a certain joy in it.
The tragic reality is that we, as Nigerians, have been conditioned to accept hardship as a part of our culture. Bad roads and sporadic power supply became norms we reluctantly adapted to. We didn’t demand more, because we never imagined the possibility of having well-maintained roads, a stable power supply, and the like.
My initial weeks in the US were an eye-opening experience. Every time I turned on my computer to study, I was astounded by the speed and reliability of the internet. I could download hundreds of journal articles within minutes from my school library, the power supply remained constant, and everything seemed to function seamlessly. I found myself repeatedly saying, “God bless America.” Each time I accomplished something without facing undue stress, those words effortlessly escaped my lips. But as I uttered those words, my heart ached for Nigeria.
It’s easy to utter “God bless Nigeria” and not genuinely mean it. However, my blessing for America came from a place of sincerity, of gratitude. And as I found myself praying for America’s prosperity, my heart could only yearn for Nigeria to improve.
I want to take a moment to acknowledge our collective strength, navigating through the dysfunctionality of our homeland without crumbling under its weight. To the vegetable sellers at Bodija market in Ibadan, braving the rough roads daily to earn a living, I respect you. To the roadside vulcanizer, I salute you. To the makeup artists hustling on Saturday mornings, and the cab drivers unable to secure loans for their vehicles, I see and appreciate your efforts. I honor all Nigerians for their bravery in the face of adversity.
However, we must face the disheartening reality of our nation’s state – the situation I term “The Nigerian Chaos”. Other countries have implemented stay-at-home measures during the ongoing pandemic, which have largely been effective due to the established infrastructures that facilitate their implementation. But Nigeria is a different story.
Imagine the predicament of the elderly woman in Molete, left to fend for herself. Consider the students expected to study from home without reliable internet access. Think of the cab drivers, their means of livelihood abruptly halted, with no social safety nets in place to support them. It is unreasonable to expect citizens to emulate other countries’ measures without providing similar resources or stimulus packages like the nations we attempt to copy.
Even without a $1200 check from the government, an American citizen still enjoys basic amenities like consistent electricity. The stimulus package was introduced to cushion the economic blow of the pandemic, not as a substitute for basic infrastructure. So, I find myself asking, “Nigeria, why are you like this?”
This predicament is rooted in our long-standing tradition of failing to hold our elected officials accountable for their irresponsible actions over the years. The true test of independence is the ability to thrive independently. Sadly, we are yet to experience true independence.
This pandemic has brutally exposed the depth of our government’s inadequacies, and the true face of the Nigerian Chaos. Now, the wind of the pandemic has blown, Nigeria is the exposed fowl, and the chaos is starkly evident for all to see. I pray for the countries that value their citizens’ lives and wish for the day when I can genuinely say, “God bless Nigeria.
OLANREWAJU LASISI 
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