Here is a country blessed with virtually everything required for growth and development, yet one that has struggled to fulfil its potential
By Emeka Alex Duru
It is fair to admit that part of the headline for this essay is not original. It is adapted from a 1978 song by Afrobeat legend, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, in which he dramatised the daily travails of the average Nigerian and the unyielding spirit with which citizens confront them. The song is now more than 48 years old, but its lyrics remain relevant—perhaps even more so today.
On Thursday, October 1, the nation marked 66 years of political independence from Britain. With the attainment of independence on October 1, 1960, Nigeria commenced its journey as a sovereign nation. By any standard of analysis, that was no mean feat. It was, indeed, a watershed in the country’s history.
Growing up, October 1 was a day we eagerly anticipated. It was a day of celebration, marked by march-pasts and other activities in primary and secondary schools. It was a work-free day across the country. To underscore the importance of the occasion, the President or Military Head of State and state governors delivered broadcasts at the federal and state levels. These addresses provided opportunities for stocktaking, messages of hope and assurances of a better future.
The symbolism of the day has not been entirely lost. Leaders still make broadcasts and extend felicitations to citizens. But that is perhaps where the euphoria ends. Almost everything else has become a caricature of what it used to be. Apart from public servants who observe it as a public holiday, October 1 has essentially become another day on the calendar.
One may not blame hapless citizens for their growing lethargy. The country means different things to different people, depending on how they have encountered it. Some insist that Nigeria remains a great nation—indeed, the giant of Africa—given its size, population, natural resources and other latent strengths. Others see it as a Lilliputian, lacking the will to harness its enormous potential. Still others dismiss it as a crippled giant that has been unable to stand on its feet.
In a sense, they are all right.
Here is a country blessed with virtually everything required for growth and development, yet one that has struggled to fulfil its potential. If anything, Nigeria appears to be perpetually in reverse gear, losing some of the gains it has previously recorded. Instead of standing firmly, the country has continued to totter, surviving largely on luck and providence. Hence the familiar description of a nation that is wobbling and fumbling.
Whenever I reflect on October 1 and Nigeria’s shaky journey to nationhood, I recall my encounter with one of the foot soldiers of the country’s struggle for independence, the late Melie Chukelu Kafundu (MCK) Ajuluchukwu. I particularly remember the paradox of nostalgia and regret on his face as he recounted the excitement surrounding Nigeria’s independence on October 1, 1960, and what eventually became of the country.
MCK, an accomplished journalist, once told me a touching story about the dreams of Nigeria’s founding fathers. They envisioned a great enterprise that would champion and protect the interests of its citizens and, indeed, the black race across the world.
Driven by these lofty visions, nationalists, alongside thousands of youths and elderly citizens who provided the energy and determination for the independence struggle, thronged the Lagos Race Course, now Tafawa Balewa Square, hours before midnight on September 30, 1960, to herald the birth of a new nation.
At midnight, the lights at the arena went off. Seconds later, when they came back on, a new era had begun. Nigeria was independent. The Green-White-Green national flag had replaced the British Union Jack.
Ajuluchukwu struggled to find words to describe the euphoria that swept through him and others who witnessed the historic moment.
But when he was asked to assess the journey years later, the old warhorse bowed his head in regret and simply said: **“What people are pursuing now are not the things we fought for.”**
MCK belonged to a generation of Nigerians who died with the pain of seeing a beautiful dream for their country betrayed. Nigeria, as the expression goes, “happened to him” and his colleagues.
Among citizens, particularly youths and the urban elite, the expression “Nigeria has happened to him” is often used when someone has been badly affected by the country’s circumstances or has suffered the consequences of a failed system in business, politics or other endeavours.
That, sadly, is the situation in which many Nigerians now find themselves. We have increasingly become casualties of the system.
That was also the crux of the anger expressed by the late revolutionary musician, Sonny Okosuns, in his song, *Which Way Nigeria?* He wondered why, after so many years of independence, the country was still struggling to find its footing. He asked how long it would take Nigeria to reach the fabled Promised Land.
The question remains unanswered.
Instead, the country has continued to record worrying declines across several development indicators.
To be sure, Nigeria has recorded some gains. The structure of the country has changed significantly. At independence, it consisted of three regions—the East, West and North. Today, it has 36 states and the Federal Capital Territory. There have also been substantial increases in the number of educational and health institutions, while the population has grown far beyond its 1960 level.
There are other indicators of growth. Yet, in substance, it remains debatable whether Nigeria has made commensurate progress, considering its size, population and the enormous resources at its disposal.
Truth be told, at 66, Nigeria appears to be crawling rather than marching forward. Development indices that ought to be rising have, in many instances, stagnated or regressed.
A comparison with China, which shares October 1 with Nigeria as its National Day, is instructive. China’s nominal GDP is approximately $20.85 trillion, according to International Monetary Fund data, while Nigeria’s is about $377.37 billion. The gap is enormous.
Closer to home, the evidence of hardship is everywhere.
Have you noticed that some failed sections of major city roads have increasingly become gathering points for women, sometimes accompanied by children, begging for money or food? In Lagos, the disturbing sight is becoming almost normal.
There is an even more troubling dimension. Groups of men now stand by roadsides, holding banners bearing inscriptions such as “Ebi n pa wa”, which, according to a friend with a better understanding of Yoruba, translates to “We are very hungry.”
When a country that has been independent for 66 years cannot adequately feed a significant portion of its citizens, something is fundamentally wrong. That is the distressing point to which successive administrations have brought the nation.
The political landscape is hardly better.
In place of the tested and committed leaders associated with the First and Second Republics, Nigeria has, at different levels, been afflicted by characters who, under normal circumstances, might not even have offered themselves for ward or council elections.
Since 1999, Nigerians have experienced 27 uninterrupted years of civilian rule. Yet, the dividends of democracy have remained elusive for a large segment of the population.
Elsewhere, democracy provides avenues for good governance, accountability and the rule of law. Here, however, successive administrations appear to have deepened cronyism and prebendalism. One consequence has been growing apathy among the electorate.
Figures from the Independent National Electoral Commission show that presidential election turnout declined from 53.7 per cent in 2011 to 43.6 per cent in 2015, 34.7 per cent in 2019 and 26.7 per cent in 2023.
There are concerns that turnout in 2027 could fall even further, particularly amid the widespread perception that what happens on election day is often less about voting freely and more about manipulation, inducement and intimidation.
The pervasive rot in the system cannot be discussed without addressing the role of successive leaders.
Literary icon Chinua Achebe was right in The Trouble with Nigeria when he argued that “the trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely the failure of leadership.”
Successive leaders have failed the people in significant ways. Getting the country back on track therefore requires a deliberate return to the drawing board.
Nigeria must identify its priorities and commit itself to achieving them. There is an urgent need for ethical and value reorientation if the country is to reclaim lost ground.
Above all, leadership must become purposeful, accountable and responsive to the needs of the people.
Time, however, is of the essence.
At 66, Nigeria can no longer afford the luxury of endless delays, excuses and missed opportunities.