I am Nigeria. I have millions of
acres of arable land and billions of cubic litres of water,
but I cannot feed myself. So I spend $1 billion to import
rice and another $2 billion to import milk.. I produce rice,
but don't eat it. I have 60 million cattle but no
milk. I am hungry, please re-brand me.
I drive the latest cars in the world but have no roads.
I lose family and friends everyday on roads for which
funds have been looted. I lose my young, my old, and
my most brainy and productive people to the potholes, craters and
crevasses they travel on everyday. I am in permanent
mourning,
please re-brand me.
My school has no teacher and my classroom has no roof. I
take lecture notes through the window and live with 15
others in a single room. All my professors have gone abroad,
and the rest are awaiting visas. I am a university graduate,
but I am illiterate. I want a future, please re-brand me.
Malaria, typhoid and many other preventable diseases send
me to hospitals which have no doctors, no medicines and no
power. So my wife gives birth with candle light and surgery
is performed by quacks. All the nurses have gone abroad and
the rest are waiting to go also. I have the highest maternal
and infant mortality rates in the world and future
generations are dying before me. I am hopeless, hapless and
helpless, please re-brand me.
I wanted change so I stood all day long to cast my vote.
But even before I could vote, the results had been
announced. When I dared to speak out, silence was enthroned
by bullets. My rulers are my oppressors, and my policemen
are my terrors. I am ruled by men in mufti, but I am not a
democracy... I have no verve, no vote, no voice, please
re-brand me.
I have 50 million youths with no jobs, no present and no
future. So my sons in the North have become street urchins
and his brothers in the South
have become militants. My nephews die
of thirst in the Sahara and his cousins drown in the waters
of the Mediterranean. My daughters walk the streets of
Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt, while her sisters parade the
streets of Rome and Amsterdam. I am inconsolable, please
re-brand me.
My people cannot sleep at night and cannot relax by day.
They cannot use ATM machines, nor use cheques. My children
sleep through staccato of AK 47s see through the mist of
tear gas. The leaders have looted everything on the ground
and below. They walk the land with haughty strides and fly
the skies with private jets. They have stolen the future of generations yet unborn and have money
they cannot spend in several lifetimes, but their brothers
die of hunger. I want justice, please re-brand me.
I can produce anything, but import everything. So my
toothpick is made in China; my toothpaste is made in South
Africa; my salt is made in Ghana; my
butter is made in Ireland; my milk is made in Holland; my
shoe is made in Italy; my vegetable oil is made in Malaysia;
my biscuit is made in Indonesia; my chocolate is made in
Turkey and my table water made in France. My taste is
far-flung and foreign, please re-brand me.
My people are cancerous from the greed of their friends who
bleach palm oil with chemicals; my children died because
they drank 'My Pikin' with NAFDAC numbers; my poor
die because kerosene explodes in their faces; my land
is dead because all the trees have been cut down; flood
kills my people yearly because the drainages are
clogged; my fishes are dead because the oil companies
dump waste in my rivers; my communities are vanishing into
the huge yawns of gully erosion, and nothing is being done.
My livelihood is in jeopardy, and I am in the uttermost
depths of despondence, please re-brand me.
I have genuine leather but choose to eat it. So I spend a
billion dollars to import fake leather.. I have four
refineries, but prefer to import fuel, so I waste more
billions to import petrol. I have no security in my
country, but would rather send troops to keep the
peace in another man's land. I have 160 dams, but can
not get water to drink, so I buy 'pure' water that
roils my innards. I have a million children
waiting to enter universities, but my ivory dungeons
can only take a tenth. I have no power, but choose to flare
gas, so my people have learnt to see in the dark and
stare at the glare of naked flares. I have no direction,
please re-brand me.
My people pray to God every morning and every night,
but commit every crime known to man because re-branded
identities will never alter the tunes of inbred rhythms.
Just as the drums of heritage heralds the frenzied jingles,
remember - the Nigerian soul can only be Nigerian - fighting
free from the cold embrace of a government that has no spring, no
sense, no shame. So we watch the possessed, frenzied
dance, drenched in silent tears as freedom is locked
up in democracy's empty cellars. I need guidance,
please re-brand me.
But then, why can I not simply be me, without being
re-branded? Or does my complexion cloud the color of my
character? Does my location limit the lengths my liberty?
Does the spirit of my conviction shackle my soul? Does my
mien maim the mine of my mind? And is this life worth
re-branding? I am not yet born, please re-brand me.
We can all bring about the needed change if we affect our little
sphere of influence.
A GOOD PLAN TODAY IS BETTER THAN A PERFECT PLAN TOMORROW.
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