Title- 53 years and still nothing.

                                 Forgive me, I lied. 53 years and still nothing? Well, there are somethings. I said there's nothing because in a certain country in the Western region of Africa called Nigeria, promises mean nothing. How is it possible that the 'promises' the government of my grandparents generation made are still the same 'promises' the government in power today are making? 18 years, I've been on earth and all the problems that the country had at my birth are the same problems a child born in Nigeria today will meet on arrival into the world. Maybe, I didn't lie. Or maybe I'm not exaggerating. Maybe 53 years and still nothing, is the perfect title.
                                  First of all, how can the stories my grandparents and parents told me about the Nigeria in their time be exactly what is still going on in my time? As a little girl, I always wondered why the "stories" seemed so real but as I got older I realized that they seemed real because they were and are still my reality. Nothing's changed. Except, the newer governments practice corruption more boldly than governments of time past. As a little girl growing up in Nigeria, what gave me the joy and excitement that going to the park or playing dress up fills every little girl with, was electricity being restored after a power cut or finding that I didn't need to ask for the pumping machine to be turned on because there was running water in the taps. Those were the moments that filled me with joy and I was considered as one of the very well privileged children in the country. I remember sitting at the back of the car as the chauffeur drove me to school one morning, and seeing a little street urchin stark naked and probably the same age as I was then, wave at me so enthusiastically as if to say "have a wonderful day, my friend" and it was at the moment that it hit me for the first time. This is real. This is very real. The stories that my grandparents and parents often told me about street urchins greeting them as they drove past their shacks by the roads was real. At the tender age of eight, I had already experienced and seen a lot of the characters that lived so long ago and that my elder family members had told me about countless times. The saddest part wasn't that I was meeting these characters in my own life, no, it was that I was meeting the characters children and grandchildren or a new generation of the exact same characters I had been told about. That was the most heartbreaking part for me.
        The governments lied to us, cheated us and even made us believe that the state of the country is normal. They sowed seeds of hatred amongst us, after all, to conquer us, they had to divide us. Elections are rigged, laws are meaningless and election promises are empty words. Yet, the people are silent. Thousands of children die everyday, physically, mentally and emotionally. Yet, the government pretends not to see. For 53 years, Nigerians have sung the same song, prayed the same prayers and cried the same tears over and over again. Actually, No. I'm sure the first year after we gained independence from the British colonial rule must have been different. Yes, it was. The hope that we struggle to keep alive on a daily basis now, was strongest then. Growing weaker as the years went on. The people who have fought and died for the country all seem to have done so in vain. How can the people be so tired of it all, and yet still so strong?  
                                           Whilst a typical day in Nigeria involves, fumes, darkness (due to random and several power cuts during the day) and extreme heat, Nigerians stay hopeful, positive and happy. The strong will and determination of any Nigerian is unmatched. The sheer warmth of any Nigerian is unmatched. When our government gives us ten thousand reasons to sing only dirges, we find one reason to sing the happiest song ever sung and we dance to it with all the energy in our tired bodies. Little wonder then why a poll by the United Nations (UN) found Nigerians to be the happiest people in the world. Despite the intense poverty, corruption and violence that besets us, we are a beautiful people. Truly beautiful. The warm smile of a little girl on the streets with absolutely no clothes on her body confirms that statement. "Suffering and smiling" a song by a Nigerian multi-instrumentalist musician, composer, pioneer of Afrobeat music, human rights activist, and political maverick, is the true anthem of the people. We are always smiling, dancing and dreaming. That's the true Nigerian spirit.
                                       Death remains every Nigerian's deepest fear. When I was younger, I always thought that surely, Nigerians shouldn't be afraid of death because it offers an escape from their very harsh realities. I couldn't have been more wrong. Every Nigerian's motto is "as long as there is life, there is hope for a better tomorrow" and Lord do they believe that. We don't give up, we don't despair and we don't give in. Maybe that's why our governments have refused us our rights to education. An educated Nigeria will definitely be the end of their wicked and corrupt regime. 
                                  In conclusion, 53 years is a long time for a country not to have made any significant progress, however, it is not the end of the journey. As a matter of fact, we've only begun. I'm certain that with my generation, the future of Nigeria shall be greater than its past. My generation is the future. I love my country so much, I believe in it with every inch of me. My children will tell their children about a different Nigeria. Things will change. Things must change. I know it starts me, and I accept that responsibility. Finally, there's one thing I hope doesn't change. And that's the true Nigerian spirit.