CHRIS DAHI Sun 4/11/2021 9:28 PMTo:
- You
- I sit in the balcony of my abode and dream about the Nigeria of yesterday’s. Being an emotionally weak person, immediately l go into these fantastically nostalgic voyages, tears will start welling and will gush down my face as l quietly weep for the lost love of my dearly beloved country.
- Someone said that the past is a place to visit, but not to stay. I wish i could relax in my happy memories of a beautiful nation as shut out the present pains.
- Lands come out of wars and learn from it, and in fact become stronger for it. Whatever are the agroes that caused the conflict get poured out in the imbroglio and the land starts breathing a fresh air of forgiveness, acceptance and eventually unity.
- Any one that dreams that Germany will be the same again after her terrible wars and east west divide, will be told that he or she was experiencing a nightmare. To think that Europe will have anything to do with Italy and Germany after the bloody experience of the Second War, will be thought crazy. But look at these lands now.
- It is too painful to think that Nigetia learnt absolutely nothing from the three years war. The land continues behaving like a man who was harshly disturbed in the throes of sexual heat, and therefore can not be pacified until he let’s off the built up tension.
- Before l go on l will like to tell a story. In the early 80s, l was a student in Unijos. Coming from the east, there was always the tendency to rush down home to refresh resources when such was depleted. Normally these shunts happen with the night time buses so that by the time any one is non the wiser, you are back in the Campus, and of course you did not miss much of the lectures.
- It was during one if these night shunts that Nigeria was engaged in a football match. You know, these matches that are played in climes that are fully awake when we are going to bed or maybe it could be night time there, but electricity is reliable. It really does not matter. As we were passing a village, we saw folks gathered and cheering in front of a television set in front of what looked like a restuarant. Boy, the scream in the bus was defeaning, as with one voice every one shouted at the driver to stop. He really did not need much prompting. He too was a pure blooded Nigerian. As he stopped the bus, we did not wait for him to park properly as we all spilled out like excited kids. “What’s the scores, Who dey win …?” Was being asked even before we could squeeze our selves into the happy crowd.
- Where that place is l do not know to date. What mattered was that it was Nigeria, and Nigeria was playing.
- Who won that match l cannot remember, only that the patriotism and love of the land then could just be described as intoxicating. After the match we all continued with our journey. Those days, we blame the players when we lose but jubiliate together when we win. The feeling was always suffocating. At a point in time l started distancing myself from watching Nigerian live matches, because immediately the match commences my heart beat will increase and start pounding, as if l was about to have an attack. I eventually found out that l was not the only person in that state. Those were the days Nigerians loved Nigeria untio death. When songs like I love Naija, i no go lie, na inside an i go live an die —
- Do l reserve the right to dream of that sort of Nigeria any more. Do l dare dream of that glorious Nigeria of yore.
- I also remember a match Nigerians joyfully branded the miracle of Daman. A match in which Nigeria came from a four goals deficit to equalize and eventually win against the USSR in Saudi Arabia. As one, the students moved and the closest hostel we met, we removed the C Block which was the name and painted, Christooher Ohehe hostel on the wall.
- Oh, what a rush those beautiful Nigerian days were.
- I remember, when 2.8 billion went missing. Nigeria shook in her foundation. It was frontline and front page news for months. I remember when Generals who were members of the national ruling council were accused openly of drug related offenses. Yet heavens did not fall. No one was intimidated. Instead it was the General and his accomplices that were scampering around trying to douse the flame.
- Am l being selfish to dream of these days. Is it not still the same Nigeria?
- I am living in Europe. I went to work in a place. Immediaty the work giver heard l was a Nigeria he literally chased me out of the premises. What’s the problem l asked and was told that the previous week a Yoruba man had come there and had a fracas with the man. That l am not Yoruba is not his problem. The Europeans do not care if you are lgbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Edo, or whatever, what they know is that you are Nigerian. The way they treat an Edo person is exactly the way they will treat a Kogi person. They do not know nor care to know the difference. The unacceptance of one Nigerians is transfered to all. Out here, we can not afford to enjoy the privileges of ethnic animosity or religious anger. We all paddle together or all sink as Nigerians. There is no ethnic barrier in relationships and marriages. The intra ethnic marriages between the Igbos, Edo and Yorubas is rife.
Why is the drum of war beating discordantly all over the mother land? Why has insecurity and crime taken over. Why have our police who are there to protect us need vigilantes to protect us from them. Why is it that the politicians we have elected in good faith and great expectations turned round to be our greatest exploiters and enemies. They are the ones making very sensitive and extremely castigating and instigating statements that continue flaming the embers of of the discordance that is enveloping the erstwhile happy nation. Dare l dream of those good old days.
I remeber when I used to with my old 404 pick up jallopy ride with my friends from umuahia to aba to Port Harcourt to Owerri to Onitsha to Benin and to Lagos and between all of us, you can not raise up to a hundred Naira, Our ricketty jallopy which we foldly branded ol charlie could gas out inbetween two cities, and we will push it by the side of the road and spend the night sone in front and some in the back. In the morning, we must find some Nigerian who will even go as far as not only stopping but suck one or two gallons of fuel from his car and set us on our way. One time, in sone remote place, the police had driven up to us and after assessing us, had taken one of us to the nearest petrol station, and to our surprise brought our buddy back. He told us that one of the elderly cops had added some few Naira to his purchase. They had given us some fruits and told us to move along and they left with a wave.
Those were the days.
Dare I dream.
Will we ever again experience the euphoria of those joy filled years. That Nigeria had just come out of a bloody way which the Western world cruelly called a fracas not a war, even though millions had ded, did not matter. Every one was grateful to be alive.
Our children now look at us and find it very hard to believe that this dishevilled, deeply un united place was once what I am describing.
I shake my head in despondency and wonder of it is right for me to dream.
