Project 9ja Mag The Revolution. 1st Edition | Page 15

therevolution
es from them, ‘Go to Mama Ada and collect…’, ‘Which kind of tasteless food is this?’…

The curse comes when I go to school and see fellow students loitering about; no school because
of ASUU strike. I remember my juniors at secondary school who went to private universities and it
dawns on me that they will even graduate before I do.

Being a Nigerian means having the ability to host extreme mixed feelings without exploding.
I feel only the tough survive in my country; I mean, who recovers from money being swallowed by
a snake? The way I see people die, attacked by ‘unknown gunmen’, the loud cracks of the crumbling
economy, the gist of how results of an election were announced while some other parts were still vot-
ing, it all removes hope for the future.

Yet, in the evening, I hear the intoxicating beats of a new song released by a famous artist and I
temporarily forget the troubles and dance in tune. Everything is a bitter sweet experience; like a riddle
that has no answer. My father only sighs and prays for the next generation.

I’ve experienced loss and victory, joy and pain because I live in a country filled with contrasts.
The other day, a thief was caught stealing from a shop and I didn’t know how to feel about it. He was a
hungry man with no work and so he stole. There was pity and resentment for him and as they poured
cold water on him before the lashes began, our eyes met in a brief uncertain communion before I
turned away.

If you ask me what I think of Nigeria, I’d say it’s like a dog that wounded its leg and kept licking
the blood away. When the blood stopped flowing, it bit itself again just so the blood could keep coming
out. If you ask me what I think of Nigerians, I’d say we are a classic race, so full of values and beauty
that we are diverse, yet in truth, are one and the same.

Interesting it is, however, that I wouldn’t have any other country; I don’t think I could survive in
the White Man’s land, not after I’ve tasted suya , furah and nunu. Not after I’ve watched the Dubar pass
by in regality and marvel at the magic tricks at carnivals. What is sweeter than attacking non-Nigerians
on social media after they say something mean about us?

Despite everything good and bad, living means being Nigerian.
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