Seeing different schools celebrating Nigeria’s Independence is very heartening. You can see patriotism being displayed amongst people that ordinarily you would think have lost hope in their country. It is interesting to see that this celebration is by the same generation that would speak about Nigeria being ‘finished’ or Nigeria not being ‘a giant’ and so many derogatory expressions. But Nigerian money is not ‘finished’ nor is it too ‘short’ to be spent. Many young people tell you they want to japa, which is the slang expression for running away from the beautiful country. (“Lazy youths”!)
All over Nigeria, the week preceding Independence Day is always very interesting. The country becomes almost unrecognisable; the air smiles as you see many green-white-green-themed attires, flags and other souvenirs available for purchase. It’s like we just seceded from out past! Driving (or riding) through the urban cities of Nigeria, you would see flags–often miniature flags, like they are afraid them growing– and some large ones and some lapel pins that have been made with the colours of the country available for people to buy. Imagining that these guys who make this brisk business are our people who never do anything where there is no money, you can understand that there’s actually some good business selling Nigeria. You heard me: there are different ways of selling Nigeria.
Nigerians are proud of Nigeria. Africans are proud of Nigerians. The world is in an abusive relationship with us. They love us, buy our music, die for our footballers, stack themselves high in stadia to watch us speak pidgin English, they watch our crappy Nollywood videos and the world-class Wedding Party-ies. Then they go the morning after, like someone with a hangover, and tweet that all the advance fees they paid for the (promise of) entertainment were part of a fraud. Come on! We are Nigerians; we don’t shout!
So this love-hate relationship that we seem to have with Nigeria is a worldwide phenomenon– a pandemic, if you like– and I find it very interesting that we think there’s only one view or one relationship that the world has with Nigeria. Many developed countries have festivals to taste Nigerian meals and Nigerian music, Nigerian languages, and Nigerian fashion. Some days ago, a group of embassies hosted an event celebrating Yoruba culture and its diaspora. Of course, no one would dispute the fact that Yoruba is a Nigerian culture and at any point where Yoruba is mentioned, one would think of Nigeria. This is despite the fact that there are Yoruba in Benin Republic and Togo and, of course, the diaspora in far away Brazil, Cuba and other far-flung locations. And this is not about the craze for amala and ewedu soup. Nigeria is, therefore, a country to be proud of originating from. We should celebrate our Independence, I know, but that is not why I am writing this.
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This article is driven by the worrisome mercantilism around the way schools, particularly Abuja schools, have found how to exploit the departure from Nigerian cultures that I find very interesting. Many parents have not spent time teaching their children about their cultures from Nigeria; they leave that to the schools to exploit. In this era of inter-ethnic marriages, it is even more epidemic that young people do not know how to speak any other language besides English. They also look condescendingly at their cultural expressions and languages. So it takes the celebration of our Independence to bring parents to the realisation that it’s a very good thing that many schools are doing. But how the schools mark Nigeria’s Independence is what would interest you. Every step will cost a parent money, like it’s a punitive measure for choosing not to do what the school has to do for your child and get paid for it.
Normally, Abuja schools look for every means to take money from you. It’s like they used to be related to the devil, who is famous for giveing with one hand and taking with the other. Abuja nursery schools conduct graduation from one class to the other; they make you buy dresses for any and everything. They are the ones who supply all the accoutrement for those rituals. They sell exorbitant materials to you. And the teachers are not as adequately remunerated, so they lack the motivation to deliver experiences commensurate with how much you are made to pay.
Nigerian Independence Day celebration is a symbol of the dependence of Nigerian parents on the schools for the upbringing of their children and wards. It’s a paradox. We talk about Independence, on the one hand, celebrating our dependence on the school for validation that we are close to our kids and we love them, which is not…ehm…ok, not a lie, but not the whole truth. Many parents do not have the time to play with their children at home; the only time is when the school compels them to come and witness their children doing some activity. Some parents will not have the time to attend that either, so the cycle continues. It seems like a whole business carrying on. But what is life if people cannot make a living out of it? People are making a living out of the Nigerians’ patriotism on Independence Day, which is what keeps the observance of the day going, just like merchants making money from Christmas, Sallah, and every other religious celebration. Whether Nigeria is independent or still dependent is another pot of jollof rice.
Let me, therefore, urge you to go to a Nigerian school tomorrow, Saturday, 1st Day of October wherever you are. You will get a lot to eat, but do not touch the children or else we will catch you and you will spend a long time in jail. They might ask you to dance in exchange for the food, that is, if you are not the parent who paid for the food. If you are the parent, you will still dance anyway, to avoid other children poking fun at your child that her dad cannot dance to save his life. They ask you to watch your kid doing some so-called silly stuff; you have to partake in it because you supposedly love your child. Let all secrets remain at home. That’s how it rolls; it is Independence Day; all lizards have their bellies to the ground, so we don’t know which is suffering stomachache. Many of us cannot say the Nigerian pledge or the second stanza of the national anthem, which is the national prayer, but this week, we are all patriots. If it takes you going to an Independence Day celebration to learn how to say the national prayer, please, tomorrow, make sure you are there.
Happy Independence 62nd Day, fellow citizen.
