When we were young, my father used to tell us of periods when they were growing up, when you could buy banana or anything in the absence of the seller and leave your money in the seller’s tray or basket. He told us of how people placed value on honesty, decency, hardwork, integrity and other virtues. Cases of stealing were rare.
In my younger days too, I remember using those wooden piggy bank (known as ‘kolo’ in Yoruba) to save and how our dad will ask us to bring our ‘kolo’ to check who saved most. Before I clocked 10, my father was already giving me Newswatch magazine to read and summarize. I remember being asked to sit and listen to NTA Network News and share my thoughts. I remember being fathered. I remember the compulsory early morning and late night prayers that my mother used to ring bell to call for. I remember being parented. I remember the term in school I didn’t come first as usual, and my father scolded me.
I remember buying bread for 50kobo, coke for 50kobo, and Hiace bus was 20kobo while taxi was 30kobo. I didn’t know anything called fuel scarcity in those days. NEPA blackout was uncommon. I remember a strong Nigeria. Yes, with its challenges, nonetheless a force to reckon with! What do you remember?
Then corruption came. Nepotism came. Tribalism came. Western culture came. The coups were endless. The fabric of the nation was torn apart. And we lost it all! We lost it all! Now our children have nothing pleasant to remember but hardship. Hmmmn. So saddening. Will this be our legacy to generations behind?
May God help us all.
Good morning Africa!
Good morning Nigeria!