As We Await The coming Of Our saviour
How did we get to the point where, on the one hand, we believe that no human being can solve the problems of the country and, on the other hand, pray to God to give us a human leader that can solve?
What do they say about predictability? Whatever your answer is, I should say that I spend a lot of time with Nollywood, so I know what it means to know the end of a thing from the beginning. And although allusive to the scripture, my knowing, I must clarify, is a mortal knowing, a knowing that comes from familiarity, such familiarity as sparks in you when you read the title of this article. I know of the spark because to put ‘coming’ and 'saviour’ together in a title at these fragile times, is to appeal to a peculiar memory, the second coming of Jesus. If this assumption is right, it will only be right, too, to hold on to it, if nothing else, at least, to prove that you are as predictable as you think I am.
Only a day ago, a friend, a trained social worker with a resounding and fascinating knowledge of Data Analysis, Matthew Olapade, and I had a conversation about the nature of prayers we have in Nigeria. "God, let them bring this light oo," or "God, don’t allow them to take this light ooo." They are almost unconscious prayers, more like speaking to oneself. However, unimpressionable as they may be, they are expressions of remote challenges that confront you as a Nigerian. And it does not end there; we also pray more intentional prayers: "God, provide a job or food for me," or "God, touch the heart of our government; let them come and fix this road." When we pray these prayers, it is usually with a screaming seriousness, so that, on occasion, we lose our voice to the deliberateness that comes with it. And worthy prayers, no doubt, but what is yet unclear about the prayers is how to separate the responsibilities of God from what should be the responsibilities of government and our responsibilities. Somebody will say they are intertwined, and maybe they are, but maybe we are also at critical times, and the severity of these critical times calls for the delineation of these responsibilities.
How do we have poor electricity, and then it is God we call upon to fix it? How do we have terrible roads, and our surest hope of fixing them is calling on Jesus? Are we supposed to be job hunting and then spend more time praying to get a job than equipping ourselves with what it takes to get the job? Because all of these things are lacking (electricity, good roads, jobs), many of us have resolved to Japa, but in those countries we are running to, do they call on God to fix their electricity or give them jobs. I suppose they don’t. I suppose, too, that in those countries, citizens know what to ask from God, what to demand from government, and what their own responsibilities are. The demarcation between these three is largely lacking in Nigeria, and so whenever any problem at all arises, we find a way to excuse ourselves, point accusing fingers at the government, and pray to God to solve the problem.
And, although we mainly pray to God to solve our problems, it is not only God that Nigerians pray to; we pray to our government, we pray to extremely rich Nigerians, we pray to averagely rich Nigerians, and we generally pray to money. Our prayer to government is particularly unique because, somehow, every Nigerian, or at least most Nigerians, believe that the solution to Nigeria's problems lies in the hands of government. And when we say government in Nigeria, we are not referring to the entire institution of government to which every citizen belongs; we are narrowly referring to the president, most importantly, and occasionally the governors. So we start a conversation about unemployment in Nigeria, and it ends with the linkage between the presidency and corruption and how it is a factor in unemployment. We speak of electricity, and on the other side, we are talking about how it is the unseriousness of the president that is damaging our electric poles and transformers. Contrastively, so firm is the belief in the absoluteness of the presidency that when Nigerian presidents fail, we don’t hold them accountable for their failures; instead, we turn to God and beg God to touch the hearts of the president or governors. Sometimes, it becomes absolutely bad, so bad that we start to tell ourselves that no human being can solve Nigerian problems, and so in line with this perception, we pray more. We are advised to pray more.
As much as we pray these prayers and as hard as we pray for the nation, in churches, where absolute trust in God is supposed to be more prominent, when we want to fix church electricity, we do not pray; we get an electrician. When we need to fix the church walkway, we do not only pray; we put money together or assemble church youth to fix it. When the pianist or lead guitarist leaves the church, we make a conscious move to find new people. When we are about to start our usual cathedrals, we do not just pray; we ask people to sow, to pay, and every other language we use. So why is it that when it comes to fixing anything in Nigeria, our absolute resolve is prayer? How did we get to this point where, on the one hand, we believe that no human being can solve the problems of the country and, on the other hand, we pray to God to give us a human leader that can solve a problem we don’t think a human being can solve? Can there ever be a more terrible excuse for failure than claiming your human problem cannot be solved by a human being? So, when our leaders fail, they have an excuse: they are human beings; they are not God, and because they are not God, they have a reason to fail. When we fail, too, as citizens, we mystify our failures, find ways to spiritualize them, and in that way, seek heaven’s intervention. We revolve around this cycle, hoping that one day God will send a messiah and a saviour to us in the form of a politician who will become president and turn things around. So, at the beginning of every four years, it appears as though we have found the person, only to be disappointed at the tail end.
What we perhaps don’t know is that no president is coming to save us, and, think of it as you will, maybe God is not going to save us either. We will pray from now until eternity, and our leaders will continue to do whatever they like. If we are not ready to take our place, hold our leaders accountable, take up our responsibilities, and ask for what belongs to us, we will wait and wait in vain for a Nigerian saviour that will never come. God has a responsibility, our government has a responsibility, and each of us has our own responsibility, if things must work in Nigeria, everyone must play their part.
Sadly, in Nigeria, the government takes most of the blames regarding all inadequacies. Meanwhile, most of these inadequacies wouldn't be evident if each of us contribute our part in having a better Nigeria. As you've highlighted, each Nigerian has a responsibility. And until it's embraced, blames will continue to be in vogue. This is a thought-provoking read. Keep writing!