IT’S HIGH TIME YOU RELEASED YOURSELF FROM THE NIGERIAN MENTALITY

The average Nigerian mind has been conditioned to feel comfortable with scrambles.

Nigerians have been boxed for as long as they’ve existed. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a general phenomenon with the world — you know, the concept of being forced into capitalism, indoctrination, socialisation, and overall, conformity to systems we can’t exactly trace the genesis of. But honestly, this isn’t what we’re dealing with today.

Today, we speak about Nigerians, again. My last two newsletters have featured Nigeria and her people, and I always get overwhelmed when I dive into matters concerning her and them respectively.

The average Nigerian misplaces the true meaning of “luxury.” There’s been a recession of quality, and a scarceness of maintenance, such that when we experience or even see systems that work flawlessly, we tag them as luxury. When we see things we don’t usually have access to, they’re termed luxury. But luxury doesn’t mean scarceness in this context.

According to the Oxford Dictionary of English, luxury is a state of great comfort or elegance, especially when involving great expense.

Let me give a common example: the housing system in Nigeria. The average Nigerian landlord or house agent would proudly state that the house to be rented or sold is fenced, has water, is tiled, is connected to electricity, or even has POP. But can we be serious for a minute? Are these supposed to be scarce? On a grand scale, it’s not the direct fault of these housing agents — it’s what we’ve been subjected to as citizens of Nigeria. What do you mean your house has water and electricity? What’s it a house for?

Let’s compare the public systems in Nigeria to the ones in the glorified Americas. Public schools, for example, are seen as an alternative rather than an option. The demographics of people who attend public schools in Nigeria skew lower class, but students in American public schools come from every class and background. The same goes for public hospitals and public transportation.

I’m not sure which it is — whether these systems were designed for the poor, or whether the masses were conditioned for these systems. Because we just live with it, like it’s normal. This is me saying it’s not normal. Rewire your brains to believe you deserve more. We scramble for the basics. Beg the government for something as basic, yet sacrosanct, as water. Potable water. It is the role of the government to provide these things. Now, almost every house has a well or a borehole. Don’t get me started on the roads, or the impecunious security.

The problem is how quickly we adjust to these issues. For a brief moment, we’re angered, but we settle after. There is a kind of numbness that has settled into the bones of Nigerians, and that numbness is just as dangerous as the failure itself. The numbness is a result of consistent incompetence. This so-called incompetence is rooted in oppression. Basic necessities cannot be luxury — they are your right. Demand them. Not ask, not beg — demand.

It starts by knowing your rights. It’s like we’re orphaned children begging our stepmother for food, meanwhile our father left us a whopping inheritance. Sophia Baek wouldn’t have been a maid if she knew she had an inheritance. IFYKYK.

The first act of resistance is refusing to be grateful for what was always yours. Stop celebrating water. Stop celebrating electricity. Stop celebrating roads that don't swallow you whole. These are not gifts — they are debts the government owes you. Collect.

You were not born to scramble. Act like it.

And get your PVC, so scrambling won’t even be an option.

— From the indignant mind of Aggy.