PART ONE:
It was like a dream. On October 1 1960 Nigeria gained her independence from British Colonial rule. Of course, in case you hadn’t realized, I wasn’t born then. Records of African history - from my primary school social studies class in Lagos to my graduate class discussion on decolonization in Africa in London, and of course the vivid and almost surreal anecdotes of parents and others - were enough to stir my imagination. You detected the hint of pride and nostalgia when they spoke about Nigerian leadership and leaders in those years; Obafemi Awolowo premier of the then-Western region; Ahmadu Bello premier of the Northern region and Nnamdi Azikiwe premier of the Eastern region. When Nigeria began self rule, with Tafawa Balewa as Nigeria's first and only prime minister and Azikiwe as president, hopes and aspirations were at an all time high. And yes, whilst our politics did fragment along regional and ethnic lines, very early on after independence, we knew we had a great sense of responsibility to ourselves and our nation.
In Africa, they say a name can tell a lot about a person, and can immediately establish the circumstances of one's birth and the influences in one's life. Contrary to popular belief, Nigeria wasn't named after the River Niger. It was Flora Shaw; the colonial officer's wife in 1898 joined together the words 'niger' meaning black, and the word 'area' to name Nigeria. At almost 150million today from a population of 35 million people at independence the weight of expectation from our name, Nigeria, as representatives of black people everywhere in the world, is still heavy. While we should celebrate our achievements thus far, we should also face square on the challenges that lie ahead.
Tafawa Balewa proclaimed that our country's 'great day' had arrived in his public declaration on 1 October, when he accepted constitutional instruments from the British colonial government. After that ‘great day’, how well have we done? Well the momentum of independence certainly propelled Nigeria to the world stage.
After we became a republic in 1963, nothing seemed impossible. Economically spurred by the oil boom, as sub-Saharan largest oil producer, and most populous country, we were blessed with a mandate for continental leadership. We championed Pan-Africanism, following Kwame Nkrumah's leading light. Our anti-colonial and anti-apartheid struggles were the hallmarks of our foreign policy for three decades. Nigeria has been at the forefront of the establishment of regional organisations, implementing the then-Organisation of African Union’s (OAU) (now African Union (AU)), strategy for de-colonisation. We championed regional brotherhood, providing financial support to liberation movements in Angola, in South Africa (ANC's anti-apartheid struggle) and Namibia's SWAPO. Under the leadership of General Yakubu Gowon, we pioneered the formation of 15-member regional integration body, ECOWAS, in 1975. As a nation we have made phenomenal contributions to Africa's economic prosperity and political independence. As a country, we adopted highly principled stances against white minority rule in places like South Africa and Rhodesia (present day Zimbabwe). Actually, Nigeria for many years chaired the UN’s anti-apartheid committee.
Our strong belief in self, and in the ‘responsibility to protect’ doctrine, informed our African and global peacekeeping missions, which have been exemplary, and have in many instances, cost the country dear in financial and human resources. In West Africa's troubled spots of Sierra Leone and Liberia we played leadership roles, helping to bring peace, so much so that till this day the head of Liberia's armed forces is a Nigerian. So was his predecessor. Some of my generation may not even be aware that Nigerian troops served in the Allied cause of the Second World War and have been contingents in peacekeeping missions, not just in Africa, but as far flung as Bosnia, and Lebanon. Of course these achievements haven't been without their shortcomings, but my goal today is to celebrate what has been good, great and positive about our country. We've never been one-dimensional as a nation, and the ways in which we've found to celebrate our cultural and social diversity has throughout our history created remarkable achievements, by equally remarkable people.
Our artistic and literary talents are too numerous to mention. We've been at the forefront of Africa's literary tradition for decades. Africa’s first Nobel laureate in Wole Soyinka, an Orange prize winner in Chimamanda Adichie and the author of Things Fall Apart; arguably Africa's greatest piece of post-colonial literature, Chinua Achebe, who won a Man Booker Prize International Prize for Fiction (2007). We’ve also had several winners of the Cain Prize for African writing, not to mention Ben Okri, Helen Oyeyemi, Adaobi Nwaubani, Segun Afolabi, Amos Tutuola, Elechi Amadi, Bola Agbaje etc.
CNN's fantastic piece earlier this week on new up and coming literary talent is another testament to our innate gift to tell moving stories about our history and culture and make that relevant to both to an Africa and global audience. Our musical artistes are world renowned. Africa's most famous tune, Sweet Mother, often called Africa's anthem was written by Prince Nico Mbarga a Nigerian-Cameroonian, who was born in Abakiliki in eastern Nigeria. The enigmatic Fela Kuti, his fiery spirit and politically charged invention Afro-beat, were deemed worthy of a Broadway production, called FELA, now coming to London's National Theatre in November. Then there's Sunny Ade, Victor Uwaifo, Bobby Benson and His Combo.
However modern Nigerian music has become today, it still hasn't lost the sense of cultural and African pride, from our Lagbaja's to our Nnekas and Asas, and yes, I cringe to say it, even our very own Tu face Idibia and D'banj. Nigerian music and Nigerian-inspired music are still trailblazers on the African continent today. How we've continually evolved, and innovated, always amaze me. Each time I go back home, there is always some new fad that's sprung up. Through all this we haven’t lost our pride. Africans often remark how Nigerian leaders are usually the only African leaders to don national attire on the world stage!
In the late 1980s my parents would often tell us amazing stories of the second Festival of Black & African Arts and Culture of 1977 (Festac 77), which took place in Nigeria. I would listen in awe and amazement that Nigeria could have played host to what was acknowledged as one of the greatest gatherings of African and black culture, so much so that an entire Lagos suburb – Festac - is still named after that festival! Yes, it happened on Nigerian soil. Earlier this year, I went to see the art exhibition - The Kingdom of Ife – at the British Museum, with a British colleague of mine and I remember the sense of overwhelming pride I felt at the time to be a Nigerian. From our highly-valued Benin Bronze sculptures ancient to our sophisticated Nok Terracotta. Many deemed so valuable by art historians that they continue to be the subject of repatriation tussles between western museums and Nigeria’s National Commission for Museums and Monuments. During the British museum Ife exhibition an art critic writing in the UK telegraph paper went so far as to comment that 'West African sculptors reveal an empathy with the 'other’ that you only find in the art of highly advanced cultures'.... had an understanding of the human body that would not be seen in European sculpture until Donatello and Lorenzo Ghiberti more than a century later'.
I was born in Ibadan, in Oyo state in south-western Nigeria, and so have always had strong affinity with the place, despite growing in Lagos. The University of Ibadan, like Ahmadu Bello University, or University of Nigeria at Nsukka in eastern Nigeria, and the great OAU in Ife, are still all emblems of Nigeria’s early record as host to first class educational institutions. My mother would tell us time and time again about how she turned down a very attractive scholarship to study at Baliol College in Oxford (I think) so she could study at Ibadan University instead. She told this story so many times with that same ‘things-have-since-changed’ air about her. It is quite true. The University of Ibadan in the 1970s was ranked the fifth best university in the British Commonwealth.
Nigerians are also innovators. The famous Nigerian scientist, Philip Emeagwali first entered the limelight in 1989 when he won the prestigious Gordon Bell Prize for his work with computers. He has submitted over 41 inventions to the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, and is still making waves in the IT industry today. It is that same spirit of innovation that birthed Nollywood, the third largest film industry in the world, according to a UNESCO report. Who can forget creative minds like Mohammed Abbah, the local teacher in Northern Nigeria, who earned his place in Time magazine’s best inventions of 2001, with a simple refrigeration device that solved a wastage problem helped revolutionise the lives of rural people in the north. Both Abbah’s invention and Nollywood are just one of hundreds of examples of how Nigeria's do consume what they produce. These creations are marketable worldwide. Nollywood these days is a household brand, even here in the UK. Our sporting legends are also well known worldwide. Who can forget the Kanu-generation that inspired Nigeria to Olympic football victory in Atlanta in 1996? And there was Hakeem Olajuwon in the NBA, of dream-team fame, and the Onyalis and Ezinwas that made up our very own Olympic dream teams.
But Nigerian achievement is not just rooted or anchored in the past. In the 21st we've tasted and seen glimpses of how political and economic reform can trigger change and accelerate economic growth, how committed and fearless leadership can help shift our sometimes non-chalant attitude towards corruption. We've seen how since the 1999 democratic transition, the determination of a few political leaders to create jobs for youth has instilled a greater sense of national pride. We've seen how brave individuals have practically laid down their lives in the war against counterfeit drugs in our country. We've been witness to how the judiciary has earned renewed respect and independence, insisting on the rule of law. This was reflected in a number of landmark decisions after the controversial 2007 elections. We’ve seen how a handful of reform-minded technocrats have helped break new grounds in policy, eventually brining Paris club debt relief in 2005.
When you travel these days, compared to the 1990s when I was at school, the flights are packed with expatriate business travellers looking to do business in Nigeria. One often wonders if the headlines that Nigeria was such a difficult business landscape were true, why there is such a rush to invest here? Perhaps the explanation is everyone wants to keep the good news to themselves and keep the competition out. I have always believed that if the earth, indeed, if Africa, had veins, Nigeria would be the blood that flows through it. If that blood was ever to be drained, the rest of the body would completely cease to function. It would just die. We should be proud of who we are and live up to our importance, strategic and cultural, to Africa and the world.
On a more personal level, what about this question of what it means to be Nigerian? What really is Nigerian identity? I'm sure ethnic affiliation and cultural identity come to mind; Igbo, Yoruba, Efik, Hausa, Fulani, Kanuri, Ibibio, Ijaw, Igala, Idoma, Igbirra, Efik, Urhobo, Tiv, Edo, Fulfulde, Itsekiri, Andoni, Nupe etc. But I think it is much more that ethnic identity, it is about the spirit, the drive and indeed the constant ray of hope that trails every disappointment we experience in Nigeria or as Nigerians. Many of the experiences I had as an African in Africa, made me realize just how many Africans, have a silent, often unspoken admiration for Nigerians and Nigeria, despite all the criticism we hear and often attract. And sometimes being Nigerian can just as much be about the reaction we get from others. I lived and worked as an intern for the International Crisi Group in Dakar, Senegal in 2004. I would often be walking down the street in my local Dakar neighbour hood, to a shop, and a local would chat to me in the Senegalese language of Wollof, on the assumption that I was Senegalese, because I looked like them, (The Senegalese are naturally tall, as I am). But I would then respond in French to say, sorry I don't speak Wollof, 'Je suis Nigeriane' (I am Nigerian), at which point conversation would immediately turn to the marvels of Nollywood, and popularity of Nigerian music and movies in those parts. You sensed a hint of admiration, that they'd met a Nigerian, and quickly a small crowd of 3 or more would gather to give their take on Nigeria, and what they knew about us. It was almost as if they took pride in the fact that they knew about Nigeria.
Then there's the Nigerian spirit, and sheer gusto and ‘can-do’ attitude of our people. In his book, The Education of a British Protected Child (it’s a great read by the way!) Chinua Achebe recounts an experience he had on a bus in 1961 in the British Colony of Northern Rhodesia (now present day Zambia). Achebe was asked by the driver of a bus in Northern Rhodesia, what he, Achebe, was doing sitting in the front of a bus (which then had segregated sitting based on race, pretty much like in America’s deep south), and the driver was amazed and asked Achebe where he was from to which he responded; 'Nigeria, if you must know, and by the way in Nigeria, we sit where we like in the bus'.
The Late Chief Justice of Nigeria, Bola Ige, once said 'if you know how to package shit you can sell it in Nigeria'. Being Nigerian is also just about our ability to be, and to do. Although I recounted to you my Senegal story, what I hadn't mentioned were the other slightly more uncomfortable encounters I had in places like Conakry, Guinea. On one occasion, when sitting in the back of a taxi, I started a conversation in French with the driver, and he figured, rightly, from my French accent that I wasn't local. When I told him I was Nigerian, he immediately launched into a tedious tirade about the dozens of Nigerian drug traffickers and peddlars operating in Conakry suburbs. So we really are a mixed bag. But the fact that we are talked about at all is indicative of the fact that we stand out.
During my preparation for this speech, I decided to compile a list of contradictions often used to describe Nigeria, or what it means to be Nigerian. And here are a few that so aptly capture the complexity and humour, and intensity of this great nation; the incompatibility of behaviour and aspirational rhetoric - abysmally frustrating and unbelievably exciting - like a child, gifted, enormously talented, prodigiously endowed, and incredibly wayward; it simply overwhelms the senses - Nigeria has proved to be the most confounding, frustrating and at the same time engaging place I have ever visited - it is work in progress, though no one is ever sure if it is being assembled or torn apart - Achebe said if he was re-incarnated he would still chose to come back as a Nigerian, but then in the same breadth, he said, while dismissing Nigerian travel advertisements, that only a tourist with a kinky addiction to self-flagellation would pick Nigeria for a holiday. I'm sure you can think of many more such contradictions from your own personal experiences and encounters. But somehow, these still lend a certain mystery to the concept of ‘Nigerianness’. Often times you hear people lament; “Why can’t Nigeria just be a ‘normal country’ like everywhere else?” Well the response in my head would probably go something like this: “How normal is 250 ethnic groups under one roof, with 300 or more distinct languages, in 36 states, and mostly relying on oil revenues from a small part of the country to keep the economy afloat. That’s just not normal!” I jest. Our diversity and complexity should never be an excuse. But what I think binds us all together as Nigerians in the diaspora, and at home, is our instinct for survival beyond the odds. It is much more than 'suffering and smiling' as Fela Kuti once put it, instead it's the sheer creativity and muscle that we dig deep to find when everything seems to be working against us. I recall the survey by the UK’s New Scientist magazine in 2003 which found that Nigerians where thee happiest people in the world!
I’m sure most of you will re-call the widely talked about BBC trilogy ‘Welcome to Lagos’, aired earlier in the year. Despite the criticism leveled at the BBC, I dare to say, that documentary has somehow done us more good than all our recent our recent re-branding efforts put together (I hope I don’t get in trouble for saying that). Only a Pharisee would have failed to have been moved by the story of Vocal Slender, the poor young man who lived and made his living honestly on a rubbish dump in a Lagos slum saving up every penny he made from selling recycled rubbish, to pursue his dreams of making it big in the music industry. He was by no means perfect, but was willing to learn from his mistakes. Within a year, Vocal Slender has already become one of the rising starts of Nigeria’s fast evolving music industry. What I saw portrayed in that BBC documentary was hard work, determination, humility, honesty, and the sheer grit of our people. However misleading the title may have been in terms of its portrayal of Lagos, at least this documentary wasn’t about the other darker side of Nigeria – the corruption, the fraud, 419, crime etc.
We have always been our own biggest critics, but let us at 50 years, in our journey as a nation, also be our biggest supporters and advocates, if for nothing at all, but for our resilience. Nigeria experienced over around 3 million deaths in the Biafra civil war, the assassination of two sitting heads of state, six successful military coups and four failed ones. In total thirty years of army rule. In fact between 1914 and 1967 there were eight attempts at secession. Yet, we, a nation, once called a 'mere geographical expression' by the British and our own nationalists (Awolowo), have managed to stay together. We've almost defy the logic of 'no house divide against itself can stand'! Even in the hair-raising years of Gen Sani Abacha’s stifling dictatorship, the fearlessness and courage of democracy activists and civil society groups was still apparent in places like Ogoniland in Rivers state, home to the late MOSOP activist Ken-Saro Wiwa.
Tuesday 5 October 2010
PART 2: Nigeria@50: My Keynote speech at City Hall, London. 1 October 2010
PART TWO:
As Nigerians we have always openly questioned whether our country should stay together and whether we should discard our colonial boundaries. Even Tafawa Balewa was reported to have once said that 'Nigerian unity is only a British intention in the country'. But I say to you that the hand that fate has dealt us is perhaps our greatest gift. From the arbitrariness of the 1884 - 1885 Berlin conference, when Africa was carved up, to the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorate in 1914 under Lord Lugard (which really marked the beginnings of Nigeria), perhaps fate, and God, has deemed us capable enough and resilient enough as a people to overcome our differences; each with our own distinct language, our cultural idiosyncrasies, and even mannerisms.
After he visited America in 1955 on a fact finding mission, the once-skeptical Tafawa Balewa would later say, and I quote, “In less than 200 years, this great country [America] was welded together by people of so many different backgrounds. They built a mighty nation and had forgotten where they came from and who their ancestors were. They had pride in only one thing —their American citizenship… I am a changed man from today. Until now I never really believed Nigeria could be one united country. But if the Americans could do it, so can we. “ When Biafra surrendered in 1970, after the bloodiness and ravages of the civil war in Nigeria the hope for unity was aptly captured in the Gowon's post-war declaration of 'no victors, no vanquished' a remarkable achievement that has played a great role in keeping us united to date.
We should be under no illusions as to the economic and social that lie ahead in the next 50 years. They are too numerous to list here. But here a few ones to highlight the immensity of the task ahead, and, these should, perhaps help keep our Jubilee celebrations in perspective. A decline in the quantity and reliability of electricity has been one of Nigeria’s greatest obstacles to economic growth. Although there's a relative peace in the oil producing Niger delta following the late Yaradua's June 2009 amnesty, the millions who live in squalor and poverty, ironically, on top of considerable oil wealth and immense natural resource abundance, should not be forgotten. Their pain and daily struggles should move us as individuals our leaders into action. Unemployment is still a problem, with up to 5,000 people applying for any one vacancy in Nigeria today. The north, which has Nigeria’s worst poverty rates, is facing the scourge of desertification from the Sahara. Our socio-economic indicators are still near the bottom of UN league tables, and the the economic growth we’ve witnessed in recent years, the banking boom, growth in FDI, hasn’t always trickled down to the ordinary man on the street. The never-ending cycle of ethnic and sectarian violence that periodically flares in central Nigeria continues to highlight the teething problems of our emerging democracy. I could go on and on about our challenges.
Our greatest challenge in the near-term: In 2011, Africa and the world will watch closely how we handle yet another election cycle. Will it be make or break, as we try to get right democratic transitions through the ballet box? I hope it will be a success, and a finger-up to the doomsday scenarios so often predicted by Western governments about Nigeria. We demonstrated in 1993 that relatively free and fair elections were possible even in the midst of complexity. (Although the outcome of those elections, was, sadly, never realised). There's no reason why that feat can't be achieved again. But we will be judged more by what we do, than what we promise. As Nigerians we have come to accept that our nation will always pull back from the brink through compromise amongst our elite class. But still I believe that Nigeria needs more than the deal-brokering that has underpinned our survival as nation, but have left us largely under fulfilled in our potential.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
As Nigerians we have always openly questioned whether our country should stay together and whether we should discard our colonial boundaries. Even Tafawa Balewa was reported to have once said that 'Nigerian unity is only a British intention in the country'. But I say to you that the hand that fate has dealt us is perhaps our greatest gift. From the arbitrariness of the 1884 - 1885 Berlin conference, when Africa was carved up, to the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorate in 1914 under Lord Lugard (which really marked the beginnings of Nigeria), perhaps fate, and God, has deemed us capable enough and resilient enough as a people to overcome our differences; each with our own distinct language, our cultural idiosyncrasies, and even mannerisms.
After he visited America in 1955 on a fact finding mission, the once-skeptical Tafawa Balewa would later say, and I quote, “In less than 200 years, this great country [America] was welded together by people of so many different backgrounds. They built a mighty nation and had forgotten where they came from and who their ancestors were. They had pride in only one thing —their American citizenship… I am a changed man from today. Until now I never really believed Nigeria could be one united country. But if the Americans could do it, so can we. “ When Biafra surrendered in 1970, after the bloodiness and ravages of the civil war in Nigeria the hope for unity was aptly captured in the Gowon's post-war declaration of 'no victors, no vanquished' a remarkable achievement that has played a great role in keeping us united to date.
We should be under no illusions as to the economic and social that lie ahead in the next 50 years. They are too numerous to list here. But here a few ones to highlight the immensity of the task ahead, and, these should, perhaps help keep our Jubilee celebrations in perspective. A decline in the quantity and reliability of electricity has been one of Nigeria’s greatest obstacles to economic growth. Although there's a relative peace in the oil producing Niger delta following the late Yaradua's June 2009 amnesty, the millions who live in squalor and poverty, ironically, on top of considerable oil wealth and immense natural resource abundance, should not be forgotten. Their pain and daily struggles should move us as individuals our leaders into action. Unemployment is still a problem, with up to 5,000 people applying for any one vacancy in Nigeria today. The north, which has Nigeria’s worst poverty rates, is facing the scourge of desertification from the Sahara. Our socio-economic indicators are still near the bottom of UN league tables, and the the economic growth we’ve witnessed in recent years, the banking boom, growth in FDI, hasn’t always trickled down to the ordinary man on the street. The never-ending cycle of ethnic and sectarian violence that periodically flares in central Nigeria continues to highlight the teething problems of our emerging democracy. I could go on and on about our challenges.
Our greatest challenge in the near-term: In 2011, Africa and the world will watch closely how we handle yet another election cycle. Will it be make or break, as we try to get right democratic transitions through the ballet box? I hope it will be a success, and a finger-up to the doomsday scenarios so often predicted by Western governments about Nigeria. We demonstrated in 1993 that relatively free and fair elections were possible even in the midst of complexity. (Although the outcome of those elections, was, sadly, never realised). There's no reason why that feat can't be achieved again. But we will be judged more by what we do, than what we promise. As Nigerians we have come to accept that our nation will always pull back from the brink through compromise amongst our elite class. But still I believe that Nigeria needs more than the deal-brokering that has underpinned our survival as nation, but have left us largely under fulfilled in our potential.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
NIgeria@50: My Keynote speech at City Hall, London. 1 October 2010
FINAL PART:
So where are we going as a nation you ask? Well we have to know from whence we come. Does my generation know our history? They say a good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children. Our mother, fathers, and elders have a role to play, but I'd like to say to my generation of Nigerians, get to know your history and your past. Get to know the legacy of our past visionaries; those like King Jaja of Opobo who was exiled by the British in the 19th century; the inspirational legend (perhaps also partly a real hero) of Queen Amina of Zaria who fought bravely, to prevent a slave revolt; or learn about Bishop Ajayi Crowther who brought indigenous education to Nigeria; or Sir Herbert Macaulay, whose visionary politics helped create constitutional leadership in our country after 1914; or indeed Awolowo, whose achievement in making free education and health available between 1979 and 1983 in western Nigeria has beneficiaries in our parents, and perhaps some of you here today; these people were human, not without fault, but they were able to achieve.
But we shouldn’t forget the unsung heroes of Nigeria too; those who fell and continue to fall victim to the state’s failures, or the millions who died in Biafra, or the hundreds that die from extra-judicial killings yearly or those who continue to meet untimely deaths because of our healthcare system failures. I say get to know the whole story about Nigeria, learn from out past errors. To young people; take personal responsibility for and pride in your country for all its shortcomings. At the risk of sounding clichéd, be the change you want to see. We all know that leadership is a sacred trust, but so is citizenship! We haven't even begun to scratch the surface of our potential yet, and the limited historical glimpse I have given of our past and present achievements is but a drop in an ocean of future possibilities.
I go back to Balewa's speech at independence. He said: “This is a wonderful day, and it is all the more wonderful because we have awaited it with increasing impatience compelled to watch one country after another overtaking us on the road when we had so nearly reached our goal. But now we have acquired our rightful status and I feel sure that history will show that the building of our nation proceeded at the wisest pace: It has been thorough, and Nigeria now stands well built upon firm foundations”. At Nigeria’s centennial anniversary in 50 years, how sweet would those words be if they were to be declared in light of the economic development and political transformation that would have taken place in our beloved country by then?
My parents and their parents would often refer to the 'good old days' when highlighting our country's past achievements, but surely I would have failed in my responsibility if I were to speak to my children and grandchildren future and still talk about the 'good old days'. Our best years as a nation should still be ahead of us, not behind us.
In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I must say to you that I look forward to the day, when every holder of that green passport, wherever he or she goes in the world, will be accorded with the immense respect and admiration that we not only deserve but would have lived up to. Azikiwe once talked about the ‘historical and manifest destiny of Nigeria on the African continent’, but I say why not the world!
Nigeria’s is often compared with Malaysia, whose economic transformation has far outstripped us despite being on equal footing with us at independence. A Nigerian friend of mine would often tell me that when she failed to come top of the class, even when she did well, her parents would often ask whether the person who beat her to first position had two heads, to which she would of course reply no. I put it to you then, and firmly, that Nigeria can change, and we all have a part to play. In my young life, I’ve seen already too many glimpses of goodness and greatness in Nigeria to ever abandon hope altogether.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
So where are we going as a nation you ask? Well we have to know from whence we come. Does my generation know our history? They say a good man leaves an inheritance for his children's children. Our mother, fathers, and elders have a role to play, but I'd like to say to my generation of Nigerians, get to know your history and your past. Get to know the legacy of our past visionaries; those like King Jaja of Opobo who was exiled by the British in the 19th century; the inspirational legend (perhaps also partly a real hero) of Queen Amina of Zaria who fought bravely, to prevent a slave revolt; or learn about Bishop Ajayi Crowther who brought indigenous education to Nigeria; or Sir Herbert Macaulay, whose visionary politics helped create constitutional leadership in our country after 1914; or indeed Awolowo, whose achievement in making free education and health available between 1979 and 1983 in western Nigeria has beneficiaries in our parents, and perhaps some of you here today; these people were human, not without fault, but they were able to achieve.
But we shouldn’t forget the unsung heroes of Nigeria too; those who fell and continue to fall victim to the state’s failures, or the millions who died in Biafra, or the hundreds that die from extra-judicial killings yearly or those who continue to meet untimely deaths because of our healthcare system failures. I say get to know the whole story about Nigeria, learn from out past errors. To young people; take personal responsibility for and pride in your country for all its shortcomings. At the risk of sounding clichéd, be the change you want to see. We all know that leadership is a sacred trust, but so is citizenship! We haven't even begun to scratch the surface of our potential yet, and the limited historical glimpse I have given of our past and present achievements is but a drop in an ocean of future possibilities.
I go back to Balewa's speech at independence. He said: “This is a wonderful day, and it is all the more wonderful because we have awaited it with increasing impatience compelled to watch one country after another overtaking us on the road when we had so nearly reached our goal. But now we have acquired our rightful status and I feel sure that history will show that the building of our nation proceeded at the wisest pace: It has been thorough, and Nigeria now stands well built upon firm foundations”. At Nigeria’s centennial anniversary in 50 years, how sweet would those words be if they were to be declared in light of the economic development and political transformation that would have taken place in our beloved country by then?
My parents and their parents would often refer to the 'good old days' when highlighting our country's past achievements, but surely I would have failed in my responsibility if I were to speak to my children and grandchildren future and still talk about the 'good old days'. Our best years as a nation should still be ahead of us, not behind us.
In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, I must say to you that I look forward to the day, when every holder of that green passport, wherever he or she goes in the world, will be accorded with the immense respect and admiration that we not only deserve but would have lived up to. Azikiwe once talked about the ‘historical and manifest destiny of Nigeria on the African continent’, but I say why not the world!
Nigeria’s is often compared with Malaysia, whose economic transformation has far outstripped us despite being on equal footing with us at independence. A Nigerian friend of mine would often tell me that when she failed to come top of the class, even when she did well, her parents would often ask whether the person who beat her to first position had two heads, to which she would of course reply no. I put it to you then, and firmly, that Nigeria can change, and we all have a part to play. In my young life, I’ve seen already too many glimpses of goodness and greatness in Nigeria to ever abandon hope altogether.
Rolake Akinkugbe © Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved
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