How do you make sense of something that makes no sense?
Yeah, that is basically the impossible task our societal system has placed before all of us as Nigerians living in Nigeria. And what am I even saying? Even the ones in the diaspora, the hand still dey touch them. One way or another, we are all affected by this lunatic reality we call living as Nigerians.
You expect me to be sane, to act normal, but what is normal anymore?
I believe there is a saying Nigerians have coined that captures this absurdity perfectly: "If them explain Naija to you and you understand, them no explain am well." As you can see, the self-diagnosis is there, but we cannot seem to find or agree on is a cure.
Is there even a cure for mental illness, or is it just managed? Some people may scorn at the mental illness comparison, but is there not a link between our sense of reality and our mental health? And has our sense of reality not been battered over and over and over again?
That is the real sickness of it all. Not just that the system keeps failing us, but that it has failed us so many times that we have started to normalise it. We explain it away. We pray around it. We hustle through it. We call it resilience and keep moving.
From the very top, from the upper echelons of society to the bottom, it is the same occurrence. In fact, the so called upper echelons of our society are more like Upper Moons, and right now, Muzan is in power.
This absurdity is a daily occurrence now. There is no shame anymore. Mediocrity has been embraced, and then we convince ourselves that money can be wrapped around it like a bow to make it palatable. The cars are shiny, the outfits are expensive, the pictures are clean, but the system behind it all is still leaking.
One example, out of the many that comes to mind, is Ojude Oba. Let me be clear, Ojude Oba itself is not the problem. It is a beautiful celebration of Yoruba culture, history, fashion, community and identity. The problem is how easily we celebrate the glamour, wealth and prestige of something like that while accepting the dirt, filth, disorder and lack of proper public infrastructure around it as normal.
A celebration can be grand, the horses can be dressed, the fabrics can be rich, the cameras can be flashing, and yet the environment surrounding it can still tell another story. That is the absurdity. We have become comfortable with packaging. We know how to make things look good, but we do not seem to care enough about making things actually work.
If you do not understand why I would use a festival that celebrates Yoruba culture, yet is surrounded by dirt and filth but is still heralded as marquee, as an example, then our self diagnosed predicament is more severe than we realise.
Asa sang, “There is fire on the mountain, fire on the mountain top, and nobody is running.” You could say that song was inspired by the absurdity she was witnessing when she sang it all those years ago. But somehow, it is still the same now, or should we say worse?
“Do you know how absurd it is that a nation is so corrupt that if someone says he did not steal as a governor, he becomes the bad person?”
That is a tweet I saw while scrolling on Twitter not too long ago, and honestly, it says everything. Imagine a country where doing the bare minimum of not stealing public funds can make you look suspicious. Imagine that integrity has become so rare that people assume it must be a lie.
When we were young, we were taught to be respectful, God fearing, obedient, serious about our education, and most importantly, to avoid bad gangs. We were primed to be morally upright. But our society has never truly functioned as one. Being morally upright was basically wishful thinking, because the very things we were warned against, intimidation, impunity, fraud, violence and exploitation, now shape too many of the systems that are meant to serve us.
Education is a mess. Even many educated people have been conditioned to argue against the basic conditions of a dignified life. We argue over whether people deserve stable electricity, good roads, functioning hospitals, quality education, jobs that pay properly, or leaders who are accountable. Things that should be normal somehow become impossible demands.
Word is, you cannot out hustle a failing economy. Yet, we are all striving for a better life as Nigerians living in Nigeria. So how does that happen? Is it not akin to insanity?
“It shall not be me or my family’s portion, IJN,” is how we have collectively agreed to overcome. We say it, laugh, move on and hope that somehow the madness passes us by.
But the madness is not only that the system is failing. The madness is that we have been trained to survive it quietly, explain it away, pray around it, and call that resilience.
You see what I am saying?
Madness. Pure madness.