.“The labour of our heroes past shall never be in vain.” I think of this line often and wonder how thoughtful our leaders were to restore our old national anthem. Yet, I cannot help but ask: is this the Nigeria our heroes fought for, or has their blood become a silent witness, crying out against all we have failed to become?

On a good day, I would begin with the familiar refrain: “Nigeria is home to over 250 ethnic groups, rich in culture and agricultural heritage; little wonder we are called the Giant of Africa.” But today, I choose honesty. Welcome to Nigeria: a place where the cost of living exceeds the cost of leaving, where the national grid collapses so the greed of nationals may rise, and where applause for mediocrity often drowns out excellence.

We grew up believing our dreams were valid and that fulfilment was only a matter of time and effort. There was no greater reality check than our beloved country. Nigeria is a place where dreams are buried because reality does not guarantee their safety. It is where average is celebrated because it is viral, while society mocks education with the phrase “school na scam”, yet depends daily on systems built by the educated. It is where merit ends the moment tribalism begins, and our shared humanity is sacrificed on the altar of bigotry.

They say Nigeria makes you tough. I believe that is sometimes a polished way of saying it makes you lose compassion. Compassion is not filming a dying person when rescue is needed. Compassion is not jungle justice, for the average thief is often another product of a failed system. Compassion is not turning away when a citizen is bullied. It is painful that the Giant of Africa has crippled what is left of love in many of us.

I remember my Civic Education teacher teaching us Abraham Lincoln’s definition of democracy. Sometimes, I wonder why we were not taught words like godfatherism and dictatorship, for they seem more relevant today. We have leaders who perform mostly during elections, while citizens are often afraid to speak truth to power. Our roads have claimed countless lives. Insecurity grows while the government appears helpless. Our anthem says we should hand to our children “a banner without stain”, yet police brutality has made some families unable to hand over even a stained banner. The youth is told that they lack the experience to rule. Maybe not. Maybe they simply lack experience in looting.

Yet, even when the flames scar us, they do not consume us. Nigeria is a phoenix nation, and like the phoenix, we can rise from our ashes. The fire in us is undeniable: the farmer still sowing seeds of tomorrow, the activist stirring participation, the youth contributing despite discouragement, and the teacher, writer, and honest worker changing this country one action at a time.

I dream of a Nigeria where prosperity is shared and growth is not only seen on paper. A Nigeria where leaders are accountable, where light is not a promise at the end of the tunnel but shines even within it. I dream of a Nigeria where healthcare works, where education is funded, and where the girl child and boy child are raised with dignity and equal opportunity. I dream of a Nigeria where religion does not breed hatred, where tribe does not bury merit, and where hope is no longer the bread the poor must eat.

In conclusion, I believe the Holy Book when it says there is hope for a tree: though cut down, at the scent of water, it shall sprout again. The Nigeria we know may be a painful contrast to the Nigeria we dream of, but with seeds of action and the watering of hope, change is possible. If we speak the language of love, unity, and integrity, then, with peace and plenty, Nigeria may truly be blessed.