Growing up Nigerian has been my greatest pride since childhood. Everywhere I travelled, I never hesitated to reveal my country of origin. Before I became a broadcast journalist and media entrepreneur, I was already a propagator of Nigeria’s immensely rich and beautiful culture and her collectiveness.
Our collectiveness as a people was a pride of mine. As an inhabitant of many different countries, I have experienced diverse cultures and ways of life, yet none of them was comparable to those of Nigeria, so I was always eager to teach foreigners about our people, our (pidgin) language, our food, our values and our heritage. I was eager to dispel the monopolistic narrative of a poor, corrupted and economically distressed nation that the international media has formed about us.
I remember being mocked by my foreign friends for frequently starting conversations with “In my country, Nigeria” and then explaining to them how the topic of discussion applies at home. I conceded to them the race on infrastructure because we were lagging far behind but I vehemently challenged them on the race on culture. I truly believed we had the best culture in the world; a culture in which Muslims and Christians, Northerners and Southerners, put their collective interest as Nigerians above individual, tribal and religious interests.
An event from my childhood further elucidates the collectivist culture we once practised. While growing up, both my parents travelled frequently for a living, therefore my siblings and I were often watched by our aunties, close friends and neighbours. On a particular trip that my parents had taken abroad, my younger brother (God rest his soul) was riding his bicycle in full speed in the lobby of the house, while my elder sister was running downstairs with a pair of scissors in hand. In what we now understand as a freak accident, both my siblings collided and before we could understand what was happening there was blood all over the place, oozing from my brother’s forearm as the scissors my sister had been holding, cut him deeply.
In a quick panic, I yelled for my neighbour who was watching over us at the time and she immediately appeared on the scene. As expected, she calmed everyone down and rushed my younger brother to the hospital, where he was stitched up and sent back home. My parents were subsequently filled in on the situation and with all senses of ease and calmness, they thanked the neighbour and reiterated to my siblings and I not to worry, that everything would be fine because the neighbour was there.
Today, trivialities such as tribe and religion have overshadowed the trust and camaraderie we once shared; this is further highlighted in the private and public sectors. Before a Nigerian is employed in any organisation, he or she is inundated with trivial questions such as his/her state of origin, religion and ethnicity, rather than thoroughly being scrutinised for his/her competence and ability to execute the job at hand. Isn’t it a pity that a diverse country such as Nigeria refuses to its diversity as a strength? An average Nigerian has no love for his neighbour, no faith in the government and no hope in Nigeria. The gap between Christians and Muslims, Northerners and Southerners, the elite and masses continues to widen. This should be a valid concern for all Nigerians, including the elite, who feel they are immune to violence because they have protection.
I hate to break it to every Nigerian, whether rich or poor: No one is safe! There is a loud agitation to divide this country, which is engineered by politics. Many can see it but are scared to talk about it and this worries me the most. I’ve become even more worried since my visit to the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Rwanda. It seems that the path Nigeria is currently towing mirrors that which Rwanda traversed before that infamous genocide occurred. To rejig our memory, 1959 to 1961 was a period of ethnic violence between the Tutsi and Hutu ethic groups. Belgian scientists divided the Rwandan populace through various stages in history. The most threatening division came in 1959 when Belgians outrightly executed their plan to divide and conquer Rwandans. They did so through:
(a) Occupation (farmers were predominately Southern based and owned 10 cattle or less, while herders were Northern based and owned more than 10 cattle);
(b) The size of skulls (the eugenics movement in Europe and the U.S. concluded that the bigger the skull, the more intelligent the person);
(c) Shade of skin and height;
(d) Nose and other facial features.
Based on these classifications, the Tutsis were elevated above the Hutus and they began to believe the myth that they were superior to the Hutus. While the Tutsis were educated by the Belgian Roman Catholic Church, the Hutus were left behind to work as peasant farmers. The Hutus grew hatred for the Tutsis and by the time the Tustsi-born King Mutara Rudahigwa decided to share power with the Hutus, the seed of discord had grown out of control.
The Belgians knew the power of the ‘divide and rule’ strategy. It is important to note that before Belgium invaded Ruanda-Urundi (which is now referred to as Rwanda), both tribes cohabited peacefully without communal clashes. Their plans to destroy Rwanda was sealed by the issuance of Racial (tribal) Identification Cards, which classified Rwandans as either Tutsis or Hutus. From April 7 to July 15, 1994, over eight hundred thousand (800,000) Rwandans, mostly from the Tutsi ethnic group, were killed in a barbaric way due to the division caused by the Belgians.
The behaviour that led to the Rwandan genocide is what we exhibit in Nigeria today, as the so called opposition leaders preach hate and intolerance, both publicly and privately. The government in power is nepotistic and distrustful of other ethnicities. There is vast social and economic inequality in the land. The insensitivity of government policies is alarming. Social media influencers bastardise their followership by propagating hate speech in exchange for political patronage. The present government is slow to act and quick to dispel constructive criticism. Opposition is championing the need to divide Nigeria because they lost elections. Insecurity is thriving, while the economy is tanking. Most of Nigeria’s leaders are ignorant and nonchalant; they are highly corrupt and have little to no regard for their constituents.
What then is the solution you may ask? We need to, as a matter of urgency, define a national ideology. As a businesswoman, before I formed my company, I had its vision and mission statements defined so that I can work assiduously towards achieving them. What then is the vision of Nigeria? What are we working towards? A military general singlehandedly wrote the Nigerian Constitution and we expect this to rightly reflect the thoughts and aspirations of 200 million Nigerians.
My solution to the silent civil war we are battling is quite simple: (1) We must first identify that playing politics with security matters is primitive, and therefore we must put an end to it. (2) We must acknowledge that in this silent civil war that we are facing, there is no correct side. (3) We must shun tribal, religious and class divisions by looking at ourselves as a collective body of Nigerians and Nigerians only. (4) We must de-emphasise ‘state of origin’ and ‘tribal affiliations’ from our rhetoric. In fact, we must banish these terminologies because they essentially hold no value. (5) We must discipline politicians and influencers within and outside Nigeria, who divide us through hate speech and primordial sentiments. (6) We must also shun ‘money politics’ and elect detribalised and knowledgable leaders with integrity. (7) We must define our national ideology, and then fix our Constitution to reflect this.
Only then can we put an end to this silent civil war we have been fighting in the past ten years. Let those who have ears…
Credit: Osasu Igbinedion