THE DAY I UNDERSTOOD MY NIGERIANESS

I had just graduated from secondary school, and I had some time to help my father on his farm. On a Saturday morning, I hopped on the motorbike with my father. In our usual tradition, we branched at a local restaurant around the Omodeni axis of town to eat very hot Amala Lafun with Ewedu and my favourite Gbegiri before heading to the farm. It was very unusual for my dad to ask me to eat more than my regular 50 naira plate, but he asked me to eat more on this particular day. I suspected he wanted me to eat more so that I can work more on the farm. I took the offer anyway.On our way to the farm, the weather began to change, and before we arrived in front of the hut at the farm, it had started drizzling. We entered the hut to change our clothes and to observe the weather. Before we knew jack, it started raining cat and dog. We sat down, and my father started narrating his past to me and what Nigeria meant to him in his youth.He narrated how meritocracy existed in his place of work and how he got promoted as a builder because of his hard work. He described how they lived in Ijanikin without fears of robbers. He told me how people built houses without a fence and how neighbours lived as a community. He did not mince words on the quality of products they bought in the market and a testament to that is the Phillips pressing iron that still existed in my father room till now. He told me how one penny bought many things and how they collected change. He narrated these things with a glow on his face, but something strange happened.The moment he started comparing the past of Nigeria to the present, his demeanour went gloomy, and he was almost shedding tears how things have gone from good to worse and how he is not sure of what the future holds for my generation. He cited an example of "UP NEPA", a slogan that didn't exist in their time because they had stable electricity. In our usual Nigerian "hope mantra", he ended the stories by saying the most extended-standing Nigerian prayer 'May God help us".It had rained for so long, and we were so cold that we could not do anything again. We returned home. I guess I had eaten more Amala that morning to be able to process the Nigeria I lived. It is many years after that particular time with my father; I can say that the things I saw as good those years have become even worse and I am afraid I would also tell my children the same sad stories.I promised myself that such would not repeat itself, and we owe it to our children to tell the stories that go from sadness to joy because the present is now better than the past.It has been tough to be a Nigerian in the last few weeks, but it has also been great to see that there is hope if people stand up in unity. I know many of us lost our last hope in Nigeria a few days ago after the speech that rendered us speechless, but our minute hopes can produce so many actions in the days to come.My Nigerianess is not to suffer.My Nigerianess is not to always keep quiet in the face of corruption.To the homeland, the place of my birth.Oluwaseun David ADEPOJU