“I live in Nigeria”

Fuel Scarcity: Crowded entrance of a petrol station causing a messy traffic jam

I am new to medium, but not new to a couple of stories on here. Why am I doing this?- I’m jumping on a friend’s narrative- a seemingly unending tale of woes. (https://medium.com/@tchoocar/i-live-in-nigeria-fbe201164150)

I live in Nigeria..

A country where intellect is not far fetched. Where natural resources are at the grasp of one’s fingers, where agriculture and arable land seem to have been placed out of nature’s benevolence, where culture is vibrant, where the spirit of music and art thrives and where laughter is never scarce. However, I live in a country where rights have been substituted for privileges, where nothing seems to ever work, where hope is being sold by politicians and religious individuals and bought without caution by citizens like me.

I live in Nigeria..

It’s been over a year since I attended a certain church in Nigeria. The pastor prayed on our debit cards to produce bank alerts. I am a strong believer, but I am also still waiting for my account to be credited from the prayers. If you’ve ever lived in the lower ends of the country, you are woken up by the sounds of a preachers megaphone- which hardly converts anyone- combined with the sounds of a speaker on the pinnacle of a nearby mosque- and if you dare complain about the deafening sounds, someone plays the religious card and demonizes your intentions.

I live in Nigeria..

Everyone appears happy, but no one realizes it’s just a mask to the anger and pains that exist. Every other night, I pass a major road to the junction of my house where numerous traders spread their merchandise to trade, the smiles emanating from the faces project true happiness. one careless night, I “mistakenly” dabble into conversation with one “bubbling” trader about business, and he rains his masked anger on me for not knowing the new police chief in the area who had been extorting them. I move on to conversation with another, and his family issues ruined what was supposed to be a cheerful night.

I lived in Nigeria..

After attending a “job fair” at the completion of my national service- where one colleague “wins” a job out of the unlucky rest of us, I returned home to the deafening sounds of neighbor’s generators and resolve to join the seventeen million individuals who have run away from home. The irony is the woes of the country seem to follow its citizens where ever we go. I hear from afar, the fuel scarcity rocking the oil giant and I think myself lucky, to have escaped the insanity two years on. I enter into conversation with citizens of other nations and the negative identity of my passport makes me nod in despair. I try to process documents to continue my run, but sadly, the impetuous strikes from back home have affected my actions, I can’t even do much.

I will live in Nigeria..

I have seen the opportunities, back home. It crosses my mind quite oft that maybe I can be part of the ones who will change things, but the stories I hear get me scared. Its even scarier when nepotism seems to be on the increase, and the circle of leadership seems to rotate in one direction. I have met the children of the elite, and it’s crystal clear that the ones who will be “selected” to lead tomorrow know nothing about the consequences of their actions.

I live in Nigeria..

Truly its not easy being part of a damaged society.

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