In the heart of Africa lies a nation brimming with potential, yet crippled by inertia—Nigeria, the so-called “Giant of Africa,” has now become a colony of happy slaves. Our economy is in ruins, our institutions are broken, and our people are suffering. Yet, what’s most alarming is not the dire state of affairs, but our resignation to this reality. We are prisoners in a system that keeps us oppressed, but our chains have become so familiar that we hardly notice them anymore.
As of 2024, Nigeria remains in the grip of an economic crisis. The cost of living has skyrocketed, with inflation reaching unprecedented levels. Basic necessities like food, fuel, and healthcare are now luxuries. According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria’s inflation rate stands at over 25%, with food inflation even higher. A bag of rice now costs more than a full month’s salary for many households. And yet, where are the cries for change? Where are the protests in the streets? Instead, many Nigerians continue to endure this misery in silence, retreating into the mantra, “God will help us.”
But can we really blame only God for a crisis manufactured by human hands? The country is riddled with corruption, incompetence, and poor governance. Transparency International continues to rank Nigeria among the world’s most corrupt countries, yet the corrupt remain unchallenged. The political elite thrive, insulated from the struggles of ordinary citizens, while the masses grow increasingly destitute. Still, we accept these conditions, as if we are powerless to demand more from those in power. The result is a nation trapped in what can only be described as a psychological cage—where we willingly suffer, conditioned by decades of exploitation and broken promises.
The resignation to our suffering is baffling. After years of military dictatorship, civil unrest, and calls for democratic reforms, one would think that Nigerians would be on the front lines of demanding accountability. Yet, that fire for change has been extinguished, replaced with a cynical acceptance of our fate. In the last election, voter turnout was shockingly low, with just 29% of eligible voters participating. Most people stayed home, convinced that their votes wouldn’t count or that change is impossible. This pervasive attitude is a symptom of a deep-seated problem: we have stopped believing in our ability to change the system.
Why is this? How have we, once a people who fought colonialism tooth and nail, become so passive in the face of a different kind of oppression—one imposed by our own leaders? The answer lies in decades of manipulation, where religion, culture, and political rhetoric have been weaponized to keep us docile. Leaders pay lip service to the plight of the common man, but behind closed doors, they prioritize personal gain over national progress. Meanwhile, the people are fed promises of a better future while remaining shackled to the present’s harsh realities.
It is not enough to simply lament the situation. We must understand that change requires action—collective, deliberate, and sustained action. The youth, in particular, have a pivotal role to play. Nearly 70% of Nigeria’s population is under 30, and yet, this demographic is systematically sidelined in national discourse. If the future of Nigeria rests in the hands of the youth, why aren’t they leading the charge for reform?
Many argue that the system is too broken, that the political and economic elite have too much control for anything to ever truly change. But that’s exactly the kind of defeatist thinking that perpetuates our status as “happy slaves.” There is power in numbers. There is power in unity. If millions of Nigerians raised their voices, if we demanded accountability at every level of government, change could begin to take root. Look at the recent global movements for climate action, racial equality, and gender rights—people power is real, and it works. But first, we have to believe that it can work in Nigeria.
We are not powerless. We are not voiceless. We are not doomed to be a colony of happy slaves forever. However, the choice to remain in this condition or to break free is ours to make. Our resignation is what keeps this broken system alive. It’s time to stop resigning to fate and start acting to change it.
This is a call to action for every Nigerian who is tired of the status quo, who is tired of watching our leaders live in luxury while the people suffer in silence. It’s time to hold those in power accountable for the state of the nation. It’s time to demand better governance, better economic policies, and a better future for our children.
We must rise, not just in moments of frustration, but with sustained and strategic efforts that push for reform. We must support grassroots movements, engage in civic education, and participate actively in the democratic process. Nigeria will not change overnight, but nothing changes at all without action. We must demand transparency, we must demand progress, and we must demand justice for the millions of Nigerians living below the poverty line.
The question now is, will we continue to accept this fate as happy slaves, or will we rise to reclaim our dignity, our economy, and our future? The choice is ours. Let history not remember us as the generation that accepted slavery when freedom was within reach.
