Every place in the world has its own pulse—an invisible rhythm that sets the heartbeat of the people. You don’t always notice it at first, but once you do, you begin to understand that life is not just lived; it is endured, adapted to and, sometimes, quietly resisted.

The Nigerian reality we know is quite simply one of hardship. From trekking to the bus stop as early as 4 a.m. for a bus that seems to grudgingly drag its tired feet around 8 a.m., to the rush of a single man living in his one-room, face-me-I-face-you apartment when he sees the compound tap about to cough up its last drops of water.

This is the Nigeria we’re all too familiar with, the one that forces over fifty people to queue chaotically at a tap whose owner was kind and compassionate enough to switch on his generator, due to the absence of stable electricity, to pump water. It is the Nigeria where a slight drop of rain from the sky, seeming to be a blessing from God Himself and evoking a huge sigh of relief from the pregnant woman who has walked under the sun all day long, is considered a curse by the “independent bachelor”, who interprets it as a sign that NEPA will undoubtedly take the light, as they’ve been known to be too scared to just leave the power be to the powers that be.

It is a Nigeria that I envision, in moments when I feel hopeful, to be a bit like Wakanda. And the more we excel in every country and profession but our own, the more I’m grounded in the belief that it is a possibility. A place where we see flying cars and soaring planes, where food and water can be delivered to anyone as fast as they can think of it. Where the streets are swept clean of the sight of poor people who have no choice but to beg for their next morsel. Where women, determined to provide for their families no matter what, can set up shop anywhere legally available without fear of their hard-earned wares being overturned by rioters.

We dream of a Nigeria ruled by leaders who don’t talk with seeming holes in their mouths, through which their promises leak out smoothly and regularly like grains of sand in an hourglass. Leaders whose government can, above all, be relied upon and trusted to uphold the law. A Nigeria where girls can walk and laugh freely without the need to clutch their bags tightly and squeeze their faces as though they had drunk their grandmother’s herbal concoction, just to discourage guys who feel the need to express dominance by not taking a simple “no” for an answer. Where men, properly nurtured by their mothers and trained by their fathers, know the difference between a willing woman and a non-compliant lady. Where children are given not just free, not just quality, but actual, valid education that goes beyond the four walls of their classrooms.

We dream of a Nigeria whose entrepreneurs are not merely self-employed, not knowing their next source of income, down on their luck but too proud to admit it, but whose hard work, sweat and tears are actually reflected in their revenue.

These images seem contrasting, and these dreams seem to pale in comparison to reality, but we didn’t come this far to only come this far. Once upon a time, the abolition of the slave trade and colonial rule was considered impossible, yet, with the help of the great heroes of our nations, these were achieved quicker than the British could say “Jack Robinson”. It’s all a matter of unity. Of subtle, steady determination.