Dear Diary,
I heard something recently that made me sit down and stare at the wall for a few minutes. Not because I was shocked, because Nigeria has exhausted my shock reserves years ago. But because I was trying to determine whether I heard correctly.
Apparently, in response to the worsening insecurity in the country, we were told that only God can truly protect us.
Now before somebody misunderstands me, let me clarify.
I believe in God.
I pray.
I encourage prayer.
Nigeria probably needs more prayer than most countries.
But I also have questions.
Many questions.
Questions that seem to multiply faster than fuel prices.
For example: If only God can protect us, then what exactly are we budgeting for security every year?
Just asking.
If only God can protect us, then why do we have security agencies?
Why do we have intelligence units?
Why do we have military commands?
Why do we have defence headquarters?
Why do we have official convoys?
Why do we have armoured vehicles?
Why do we have sirens clearing traffic?
Why do we have government security details?
Why not simply replace the entire national budget with a giant prayer request?
Again, just asking.
Because if the official strategy is now “God will protect us,” then surely the rest of us deserve refunds.
The thing that bothers me most is how normalized insecurity has become. Imagine somebody walking into your family house. Not visiting, not relocating, and not introducing themselves. But walking in and deciding they now determine how everybody inside should live.
Then they kidnap your brother.
Your sister.
Your mother.
Your father.
And after violating your home, they send an invoice.
An invoice.
For a human being.
And somehow we have reached a point where ransom demands are discussed almost like utility bills. As though this is a normal feature of society.
When did that happen?
When exactly did Nigerians become tenants in their own country?
When did criminals become confident enough to negotiate from a position of strength?
More importantly, when did the rest of us become expected to adapt to it? Because adaptation seems to be our national specialty.
No electricity?
Adapt.
Bad roads?
Adapt.
Inflation?
Adapt.
Kidnapping?
Adapt.
At this rate, if dinosaurs return, somebody will simply advise us to adapt.
What fascinates me, however, is how differently situations are handled depending on who is affected.
When ordinary Nigerians are kidnapped, we are encouraged to pray.
When ordinary communities are attacked, we are encouraged to be patient.
When ordinary families lose loved ones, we are assured that investigations are ongoing.
But whenever powerful people or people connected to power are involved, remarkable things suddenly happen.
Resources appear.
Urgency appears.
Coordination appears.
Results appear.
Which raises an uncomfortable question.
Are some Nigerians more Nigerian than others?
Because if rescue is possible, then capability exists. And if capability exists, then what exactly is preventing broader action?
Again.
Just asking.
Meanwhile, across the country, people are protesting.
Some within Nigeria.
Some outside Nigeria.
Many calling for leadership to take responsibility.
Many expressing frustration.
Many demanding change.
And regardless of where one stands politically, I think there is a question worth considering.
What happens when citizens begin losing confidence in the ability of institutions to protect them?
History suggests the answer is never good. No nation survives indefinitely on speeches. Eventually, people need results.
Safety is not a luxury.
It is not a campaign promise.
It is not an aspiration.
Safety is the foundation upon which every functioning society rests. Without safety, everything else becomes secondary.
Schools.
Businesses.
Farming.
Investment.
Tourism.
Community life.
All of it suffers. Because human beings cannot thrive where survival is the primary occupation.
But Diary, I do not want this entry to end in despair. Because if all we do is complain, then we become spectators in our own story. And perhaps that is part of the problem. Maybe we have become too accustomed to waiting for somebody else to save us.
The government has responsibilities.
Huge responsibilities.
Non-negotiable responsibilities.
But citizenship also carries responsibilities, and perhaps it is time we discuss those too.
If young men in communities can organize neighbourhood watch systems, they should.
If communities can create structured local security initiatives within the law, they should.
If people can share verified information and intelligence responsibly, they should.
If Nigerians in the diaspora can support community projects financially, they should.
If women can organize food support for volunteers protecting communities, they should.
If local leaders can mobilize residents, they should.
If citizens can peacefully advocate for accountability, they should.
If we can support one another instead of waiting for rescue from distant offices, we should.
No, these things do not replace government. Nothing replaces government, but strong societies are rarely built by governments alone. They are built by citizens who decide their communities matter.
Citizens who decide that surrender is not an option.
Citizens who understand that nations are not inherited. They are maintained.
Sometimes I imagine what would happen if Nigerians redirected even half of the energy we spend arguing online toward organizing our communities.
What would happen?
What could we build?
What could we protect?
What could we become?
Because despite everything, I still believe this country belongs to us.
Not to kidnappers.
Not to terrorists.
Not to criminals.
Not to fear.
Us.
And if it belongs to us, then perhaps reclaiming it begins with remembering that.
Anyway, Diary, I have asked enough questions for one evening. The answers, unfortunately, remain outstanding.
– Ria
Anyway, that’s today’s entry.
Agree if you like. Be vexed if you must.
It is, after all, a rant.