For so long, Nigerians have been subjected to the lowest quality of life by those they elected. We have become so used to being and having less that any victory achieved without suffering is not deemed worthy of celebration.

At first glance, this may not seem so bad because it looks as though Nigerians prioritise hard work. But there is a thin line between working hard and suffering, and most Nigerians do not know it exists. So they keep suffering, all in the guise of being hardworking.

The Nigeria we know comprises spineless citizens who would rather drag you for calling out a failed system than demand answers alongside you. Citizens who resort to tribal bigotry instead of fighting for what they deserve. We have adapted so outrageously to suffering that excuses are made for a woefully failing administration.

When you complain about the lack of electricity, they tell you to get a generator. When you complain about the high cost of fuel, they tell you to walk more. Two hundred people are killed by bandits in Kwara, and they advise you to relocate. Anything but holding those responsible accountable.

With popular statements like “Na me send your papa make e no guide” and “If no be ice block, wetin you wan use 24 hours light do?”, it is clear how pathetically shallow the average Nigerian's thinking can be when they consider electricity a luxury one has to earn. It is not something that should be treated as a privilege rather than a basic service expected from a government funded, in part, by the taxes citizens pay.

But that is the result of endless complacency: you become a slave to the very people you chose to govern you.

And the worst of it all is the Japa syndrome.

A crisis borne out of the desire to escape a deteriorating nation, it has become a phenomenon affecting Nigerian youths, presenting itself as the only path to a better life. Because when you cannot stand the abject poverty and dysfunction, the next best thing seems to be to run.

We have since lost approximately half of our licensed medical doctors alone. Rather than staying and fighting for their rights, they leave their country for greener pastures — forgetting that those pastures only look that green because the citizens there fought for them.

More people flee, and many more die at the hands of terrorists. Rather than our authorities springing into action, they make plans to rehabilitate criminals. That is how much audacity we have entertained: a democracy that would rather dine with the killers of its citizens than fight for them.

As a user on X put it, Hooke's law does not apply to Nigerians because, even after all the suffering we have endured, we still do not have a breaking point. The average Nigerian is simply an apathetic, compliant slave.

But we cannot continue like this.

There are over 200 million of us. We cannot all migrate our way out of bad leadership. We cannot out-hustle or crowdfund our way out of a regime this terrible.

As I write this essay, Nigeria ranks as the second most dangerous country in Africa and the ninth most dangerous globally.

When do we fight back? When do we use our collective voices to shout that enough is enough? Enough deaths, enough suffering, enough corruption.

That is the Nigeria I dream of.

One where we set aside tribal differences and demand better together. Where hope is alive. Where protests are effective and not just noise teargassed into silence. Where politicians are forced to do better or face the consequences of their actions. Where basic amenities — food, water, electricity and shelter — are not privileges but guarantees. Where our youths have opportunities. Where electoral rigging carries the death penalty.

Because until we decide we have had enough, we will remain slaves for many more years to come.

Then what exactly was the point of our independence?