I was born during General Sanni Abacha’s administration. While growing up, I knew absolutely nothing about what it meant to be a Nigerian and the state of the nation as of the era I was born.
After Sanni Abacha died, a song erupted. No one knew how or where it came from but we all just found ourselves singing it and it goes thus:
“One day, One day,
Nigeria play ball,
Kanu jump up,
One naira fall.
Abacha take am go buy chewing gum.
Yum Yum Yum, chewing gum dey sweet.
Three days later, Abacha die”.
Whenever we finished singing this song, the older ones around us seemed to have a breathtaking joy that beamed across their faces. We never knew why the death of a leader would bring so much celebration, but, this joy always had a way of rubbing off on us who were the children because it brought to mind “The promise of a better Nigeria".
My dad had a slim and aged white client who visited our house not so often. His command of pidgin goes a long way in proving that he had spent quite a long time in Nigeria. His lips had grown dark from cigarettes but he never stopped puffing several sticks whenever he came visiting and even though I hated the smell of cigarettes, I loved to hear the intelligent words that came out of his mouth whenever he spoke.
I would sit inside and listen to him and dad discuss business and from business, they proceeded into matters of the state. He always started off by bragging about his country after which he ended by admitting that Nigeria is a blessed country that will definitely soar in no distant future.
The promise of a better Nigeria was a craze we never got cured from. I watched my dad and neighbours run to the polling booth at every election, with hopes that the to-be president will be better than the former. I watched them brag about their candidates during the elections. But after the elections, I watched their ego die a painful death, from disappointment to pain and then to vying for another president who they believed would be the messiah.
Franchise they say is the best exercise. But, if this was what it meant to exercise one’s franchise, then I had sworn never to be like my neighbours who wore long faces after exercising theirs.
I grew up to realise that in Nigeria, the constitution only works if you are a nobody that knows nobody.
I grew up to realise that those who teach you to fight for your right will fight you right back if it is not in their favour.
I grew up to realise that millions of people are ready to fight with you before the war erupts but when you get to the battlefield, you turn to realise that you have been stabbed in the back by your cheerers and the sword gently twisted in.
I grew up to realise that the capital of Nigeria is “Cowardice City” and we all are cowards who only have a strong hold behind our keypads.
I grew up to realise that before an election, the citizens are important but after an election, the citizens are just another option.
I grew up to realise that the best way to be made for life is to hold a political position.
I grew up to realise that a better Nigeria is a dream we might never wake up from if we keep enduring this dreamland.
