Mr. President

When you first came to me, you put forth a new story and you promised and begged and fought. You needed my attention, and slowly I began to give it to you. But I read stories of a dictator, and the many things you did wrong the first time even when you had promised that you wouldn’t. And then there was the speech IBB gave after he crushed your regime as military head of state.

“Buhari is now a democrat” they said, and like a faithful church boy, I accepted that old things indeed do pass away.

An old sweetheart taught me that time takes its toll on everything, and I believed her just like I now believed you. I believed in you, forgave you for the sins you committed years before I was born.

You had spent enough time waiting, wishing, regretting and purging yourself of all the hardness that once came so easily to you. At least that is what they told me on facebook, blogs and in the newspapers.

You were now promising change, and I believed. Those who see the rain before it gathers claim that you have done so much already in the few months of your reign but you must not believe them. Like many other Nigerians, my life has not changed for the better.

Our problems are mounting, and the rotting of putrid flesh from the wounds we have covered up for too long stinks up to heaven. Tears have warmed my cheeks for too many nights, and I am tired. I am tired of a country that is being continuously led in a blind march towards oblivion like sheep to slaughter, while others too myopic to see the bigger picture cheer and shower praises on mediocrity.

Nostalgia? No. I don’t believe like some that we have had much of heroes in the past or that we fared better in the years before my birth.

In every basic sense, our lives are riddled with pain. Our hearts have formed a giant leaky bucket, and we cry. Grown men have cried and young women have died. We are not safe, not fed, too thirsty, too frustrated, too hurt, too ignorant and unlearned. We sit out in the cold to mourn our fate and frustration leads us to fight over left-overs that are far too meager compared to what we truly deserve.

“Nigeria we hail thee” is simply not enough. Our compatriots are too sad, broken and disillusioned to arise. Too many have died for no reason, and more are going to die today in situations that could be easily avoided.

Our lives are a general drama of pain, and through the years we have been duped too many times. Many have lost hope for respite and all that we have left is anger and pain and sadness and more pain and words you have heard before.

The fools in their tomfoolery will sing your praise and award you plaques for doing the nothing that they will effortlessly construct to look like something; sycophants driven by greed, immaturity, a curse of perpetual stupidly, and a blindness to what is real, necessary and possible.

Their lies, false praises, feigned admiration, songs and accolades make them nothing more than self-perpetuating victims of circumstance.‎

Our bulbs are never on, our batteries always empty, our taps devoid of water, our generators perpetually chugging and churning on fuel that we paid for through our noses. Our youths are unemployed, our fathers sick and tired of the pain, our mothers heartbroken from long sad years spent waiting for life to get better, and our businesses struggling to cope with laws and an economy that neither care, forgive nor remember.

Teachers teach us lies, and our clueless politicians lead the world both in stealing and in evading sensible questions and prosecution. Our friends and family are kidnapped, tortured and murdered by security forces and terrorists alike. Our legislators are fed fat while archaic laws are left on the mantle for our children, who deserve a new normal, to be enslaved by. Our homes are flooded, our boarders leaky, our roads broken, and hospitals dilapidated. Policemen harass us at every turn and we feel most unsafe around those whose primary task is should be our protection.

What life are we even living in this country?

Will you save us or were your promises just promises?

Yours faithfully,

Nduyeobong Akpan‎ ‎