MY TEN KOBO; NIGERIA @56: DREAMS DIE FIRST

My earliest recollection of the Nigerian state was when we, as primary school pupils, were lined along Broad street with miniature Nigerian flags to wave at the then Head of State, General Yakubu Gowon from his Dodan Barracks residence to The Race Course, now TBS, for the Independence Day parade.

The spectacle was of course the motorbike outriders who thrilled us with stunts. The fact that we were being fried by the mid day sun waiting for a man who was probably still snoring did nothing to abate our excitement at feeling the physical aspect of power that close.

Of course, like most kids, the event was the basis of our plays for the next few days, until something more exciting happened to divert our attention.

These days, not only were parades no more fashionable, courtesy of Insurgents and militants, but the very fact of Nigeria as a nation repulses more than it inspires.

Don't get me wrong, I love my country. Even the red flag that goes up every time we flash the green passport provides a perverse thrill that comes from being considered dangerous, and therefore a threat.

But as we run out of heroes, the country moved from being a beloved grandfather to a barely tolerable Uncle. You know, the one you wish would not come to the family gathering because he was considered the black sheep, the family embarrassment.

All those superficial, but extremely effective symbols are gone. Nothing excites about Nigeria anymore. Maybe because the social contact that links the people to government: Free education, affordable health care, quality public service delivery, are now things of the past. Nobody pretends that they are working for the common good anymore, only personal enrichment.

First we blamed the regionalists and brought the nationalists. When that didn't work we were taken over by tribalists, who lost the war to feudalists, which led to distortion in the body politic before we brought in an expert in cronyism, who was booted out by a philanderer, and was forced to step aside for a dictator, who died leaving a light fingered religionist in charge before handing over to a pseudo nationalist.

Because he could not extend his stay, he endorsed a sick Marxist who died handing over to a educated weakling, who was then defeated by a a nepotist masquerading as a correctionist.

For 56 years, we have tried all sorts and they have all been found wanting, and so, four years before the age of sixty, which a human should consider retirement, we are still crawling.

Now that we have run out of Messiahs, maybe the time is ripe to stop looking for saviours and realise that we are on our own, as the beautiful ones are not yet born.

It is obvious that the Nigerian project had not turned out the way our forefathers envisaged, but we will plough on regardless, knowing that we either get it right, or allow the project to be renegotiated, and if that fails, allow the constituent parts take charge of their own destinies.

Only time will tell.

My Ten Kobo.