YOU DESERVE NIGERIA.

Someone asked if I’d already abandoned my newsletter, and honestly, I was offended.

Me? Abandon my baby? Disappoint myself this early? Never.

But I took the hint, sat myself down, and went looking for something worth writing about—which was not easy at all, considering I might be one of the most unmotivated people you’ll ever meet.

After much thought (I, in fact, didn’t bother to do any thinking), I decided to make this one about you. Yes, you. I know, I know. That’s what makes me so generous.

I said you deserve Nigeria.

And that’s not an insult. It’s an honour, really.

You deserve to reap the fruit of the seed you’ve so diligently watered. All that sweat? The effort? This is your harvest. You deserve all the glory.

You, who have shouldered the burden of suffering with grace and dignity, while the rest of us whine about minor inconveniences like poor power supply.

You, who had the good sense to treat dysfunction like culture and wear it like aso-ebi.

You, who, in all your patriotic fervour, defend the very system that’s slowly killing your fellow citizens.

Because, of course, what better way to honour your ancestors than to preserve their suffering as tradition?

You are the real MVP.

You make hardship your national ID, and you’re always on standby with your famous pledge: “It has always been like that.”

You cannot wrap your head around the fact that children nowadays catch a bus to school when, in your days, you had to trek ten miles to enjoy the luxury of education.

You were, of course, a victim of poor infrastructure, but that doesn’t matter. You have mastered the art of romanticizing suffering.

The terrible drainage systems and rampant insecurity have become things you have so heroically embraced.

So, when you hear that there was a flood or a robbery, you don’t stop to think about what could have been done to prevent it—you simply add your luck to the growing list of testimonies to share during service.

You know the chances of these incidents happening again are very high since nothing has ever been done to curb them, but when you and your friends gather close to a leaking soakaway to talk about how the victims should have bought stronger padlocks, not a single one of you thinks to bring in the government.

Because, of course, who needs a functioning system when there’s a constant reassurance that “God will not shame us”?

You wait in line for basic amenities and call it endurance.

And the parents whose children live an easy life after they themselves toiled day and night? Woe betide them!

You preach the virtue of pain and suffering with the eloquence of a seasoned minister.

You are God's strongest soldier.

A warrior.

An epitome of patience.

You get angry, of course. As perfect as you are, you’re human too, at the end of the day. But you are different—you choose the most convenient times.

When your local government embezzles funds meant for your child’s school, you leave it to God, as it should be.

But when a celebrity forgets to say “good morning,” you organize a drag marathon on social media.

And oh, you care—so deeply—for the welfare of the country.

So when MTN interrupts your Instagram scroll with a message asking if you’d like to share your remaining 200MB with your loved ones, you shamefully dismiss it with a hiss and go on to pursue your interests.

Your data used to last longer. And it’s no secret that prices have gone up by 50%, so that’s not on you.

But you don’t stop to think about all that—not when there are more pressing matters.

You face the matter at hand—a vlogger daring to ask why children are being made to write a life-changing exam at the crack of dawn as if it hasn’t always been that way.

You decide to see if there are fellow supreme intellectuals in the comment section, and you are appalled to find out that only 30% share your views.

Some even dare to question the system. The system? Really?

When there is a more disturbing issue hindering the progress of the country—the male vlogger’s lip gloss.

Talk about misplaced priorities.

You watch in disgust as a lawyer dares to call out the almighty JAMB for grading her brilliant brother unfairly, when the whole world knows the real issue was that he slacked off after seeing his first sitting’s impressive result.

Your assumption makes no sense, of course—but who has time for logic when you’re busy juggling the nation’s biggest problems: feminists, homosexuals, and the audacity of a Nigerian complaining about the price of an Italian-originated meal?

You skip the post where she shares the corrected result.

You’re not ashamed of your initial criticism.

Shame? Never.

You move on to the next trending tragedy: the girl who clearly lacked enough love at home to commit suicide over a mere exam.

That, of course, is the only reasonable explanation.

The wasted effort she poured into studying, the relentless pressure of seeing her peers succeed, the weight of expectations—those couldn’t possibly have played a role.

You’re certain.

You question why her father would cry, when he clearly must’ve raised her with iron fists and severe beatings.

Still in your wave of unsolicited insight, you quickly post about how you would never let your own children suffer like that.

Not you. You're different.

You hate corruption, as we all do. But your wisdom runs deeper, you keep your mouth shut when you have something to gain.

You tweet about lawlessness from the front seat of a one-way ride.

You go around with expired car particulars with your 200 naira tip in hand.

You condemn exam malpractices, but your cousin needed that expo to “just pass maths.”

You complain about the price of things, but sell plantains at an outrageous price due to the “rising cost of dollar.”

You say your vote doesn't count, but neither do your complaints—especially when you traded them for a bag of rice.

Your principles, like your loyalty, come at a fair price.

Maybe it's not all your fault.

Maybe the system trained you so well that you think adaptation is wisdom, and compromise is patriotism.

But you are to blame too.

You inherited brokenness, and made it culture. You refuse to utilize your God-given common sense, and say and do stupid things with the confidence of a peacock.

A country doesn't reflect its flag, it reflects its people.

So you see, you deserve every bit of the mess you had a hand in, and if you think the country is rotten, then maybe look a bit closer because you might be the maggot the stench originates from.

Um…please like, share, and subscribe if you haven't., thank you, it means a lot to me💕.

I genuinely started this post with so much energy, but now my head hurts and I want to sleep.

Oh, do share your thoughts, I love reading them.👉🏾👈🏾

Till I write again!❤️

PS: The spacing that the Substack editor made me put in this post is irritating my soul. Hopefully, it doesn't reflect.

PPS: Please read my story if you haven't, it's not romance or alpha beta (I truly do not know what they are called).

It is very African, and was inspired by pap and akara. I want you to read it🌚. Don't forget to like it too.You can read it here.

Okay, bye🙃.