On the Frontlines With Boma
At sixty-five, nations are supposed to be mature. Sixty-five is not the age of excuses, it is the age of reckoning. It is the point where strength and wisdom merge, where lessons of the past should yield dividends in the present, and where the foundation for the future should already be solid. But Nigeria at sixty-five appears to be stuck—neither moving backward nor fully forward, but toddling like a juvenile uncertain of its steps.
The signs of immaturity abound. The country is still grappling with basic infrastructure deficits that most nations of its age left behind long ago. The dream of uninterrupted electricity remains a mirage. Industries run on generators, small businesses collapse under the weight of high energy costs, and households live in perpetual darkness. Electricity—the lifeblood of any modern economy is yet to be stabilized.
Our roads tell the same story. Major highways linking states are death traps, riddled with potholes and abandoned projects. Accidents claim lives daily, while rural communities remain cut off due to poor access. Even in the urban centers, traffic is worsened by crumbling infrastructure. Nigerians spend more time navigating bad roads than pursuing productive ventures.
If infrastructure is the backbone of a nation, security is its soul. Sadly, Nigeria’s soul is bruised. Kidnapping has become an industry, with ransoms paid in billions. Ritual killings, once whispered in hushed tones, now make front-page news. Internet fraud—popularly called Yahoo Yahoo—has turned from shame to lifestyle, corrupting values among the youth and shaking the country’s moral compass.
The insecurity is not limited to individuals; entire communities live in fear. Farmers can no longer go to their fields, traders hesitate to ply highways, and schoolchildren are abducted in broad daylight. A nation that cannot protect its people is like a house without walls—open to predators.
Education, once a source of pride, is now at its lowest ebb. Public schools are shadows of what they once were. Classrooms without chairs, teachers unpaid, students uninspired—this is the state of Nigeria’s education sector. While children of the elite fly abroad for better opportunities, the children of the masses are left with a broken system. The future, which depends on educated citizens, is being compromised daily.
Hospitals tell an equally grim tale. With poorly equipped facilities, insufficient personnel, and endless strikes, Nigerians do not trust their health system. The wealthy jet abroad for medical check-ups, while the poor die of preventable illnesses. Medical tourism drains billions from the country’s treasury every year, money that could have transformed local hospitals if properly invested.
Beyond infrastructure, insecurity, education, and health, Nigerians themselves are battered. The majority are poverty-stricken and grief-laden. Inflation bites harder, food prices soar, and survival becomes a daily miracle. Hope is fast becoming a luxury, as people wake each day fearing what tomorrow holds.
Unemployment paints another dark picture. It is not only the fresh graduates who wander aimlessly in search of jobs; even those who finished decades ago remain idle, reduced to survival hustles. The economy offers neither space for skilled nor unskilled labor. Idle hands have become ready tools for crime and manipulation.
The political scene, instead of being a platform for solutions, is often the breeding ground for more problems. Electoral fraud has become normalized. Rigging, ballot snatching, and system glitches are almost expected features of elections. When institutions meant to guarantee fairness themselves become questionable, democracy stands on shaky legs.
Election dividends, which should translate into better lives for citizens, have become scarce commodities. The electorate votes with hope, only to be rewarded with disappointment. The slogan “nothing go happen” captures the depth of resignation. When leaders fail, and accountability is absent, hopelessness spreads like wildfire.
Yet, Nigeria is not without potential. Beneath the ruins lies a resilient people, creative and resourceful, making something out of nothing daily. From Nollywood to tech startups, Nigerians have shown they can excel if given the right environment. The problem is not the people but the system that frustrates their ingenuity.
At sixty-five, the question arises: Is Nigeria backward or merely toddling? Backwardness suggests regression—losing ground already gained. Toddling implies immaturity—slow, unstable progress, but with potential to stand firmly one day. Nigeria seems to embody both. In some areas, it has regressed; in others, it crawls slowly, refusing to rise to its true height.
Comparisons are inevitable. Countries that shared independence dates with Nigeria—like Singapore and Malaysia have become global models. Even Ghana, our neighbor, often appears more stable and organized. What then holds Nigeria back? Leadership? Corruption? Structural imbalance? Or a cocktail of all?
Corruption remains the elephant in the room. Resources meant for development are siphoned into private pockets. Projects are abandoned after funds are released. Institutions are weakened by greed, while public officials parade unexplained wealth without consequences. When corruption becomes a culture, progress becomes impossible.
Leadership failure compounds corruption. Nigeria’s leaders often prioritize personal survival over national growth. The cycle of promises, betrayals, and excuses has become repetitive. Leaders ask for patience, yet squander opportunities. They demand sacrifices from citizens, yet indulge in luxury themselves.
The citizens, too, bear some responsibility. Our tolerance for mediocrity, our readiness to sell votes for short-term gains, and our silence in the face of injustice keep the system intact. A people who accept “suffering and smiling” as normal empower bad leadership to thrive.
Despite the gloom, hope must not die. History shows that nations can rise from despair. South Korea, once poorer than Nigeria, is now a global economic powerhouse. Rwanda, scarred by genocide, has rebuilt itself into a model of resilience. Change is possible if Nigeria is willing to confront its demons.
The way forward demands sincerity. Infrastructure must be prioritized, not politicized. Power, roads, and transport systems must receive steady attention. Without basic amenities, no economy can thrive.
Security must be tightened with sincerity of purpose. Bandits and criminals thrive because they often sense complicity or weakness in the system. Restoring security means restoring confidence, and without confidence, no investor will commit resources to Nigeria.
Education and health must be rescued from collapse. Teachers need training, facilities must be upgraded, and doctors must be incentivized to stay. The billions wasted on medical tourism could build world-class hospitals here at home. A nation that neglects health and education abandons its future.
Politically, reforms must be real, not cosmetic. Electoral transparency is non-negotiable. Votes must count, and leaders must emerge from credible processes. Otherwise, the disconnect between leaders and citizens will continue to widen.
Finally, the Nigerian spirit must be reawakened. Citizens must demand accountability, reject mediocrity, and refuse to normalize failure. Nations rise when their people rise. Nigeria at sixty-five must choose whether to remain a toddler or finally stand tall.
The choice is ours.
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