The changes we need

We can’t demand a just Nigeria while practising injustice in our daily lives. We can’t call for reforms while upholding dysfunction. I believe that a new Nigeria must begin with a new mindset. It starts with showing up, speaking out, doing right and refusing to be complicit in rot.

I believe in Nigeria. But belief without truth is delusion. And the truth is this: if Nigeria is to thrive, some things must change, and radically too. Without changes, incompetence will continue to defer dreams and lives will be buried beneath the weight of preventable tragedies.

The things that need to change are not mysteries. We’ve known them for years. What has been missing is the collective will to act.

How can we act when politicians turn elections into coronations and public offices into personal empires? The average Nigerian politician acts like a conqueror, not a servant. And we let them. Public service in Nigeria remains a route to wealth, not a platform for impact. From local government chairmen to governors and ministers, many are more focused on convoy sizes than hospital conditions. I’ve watched health centres crumble while ribbon-cutting ceremonies are televised in high definition.

This must change. We need leaders who see governance not as a hustle but as stewardship. We need leaders who come to power with ideas, not just ambition. Until we hold our leaders to moral and intellectual standards, not tribal or transactional ones, we will keep repeating the same national tragedy.

We say we’re a federation, but almost everything flows from Abuja: resources, decisions, even hope. Governors behave like CEOs of companies that produce nothing but consume everything. Why should a state rich in agriculture, tech talent, or tourism be broke simply because oil prices crashed? Why do we need federal approval for local innovation?

I believe it’s time for true federalism. Let every state control its resources, define its future, and be held accountable by its people. I want to live in a Nigeria where Ogun competes with Enugu, and where Borno doesn’t have to wait on Abuja to secure its borders or educate its children. The centre cannot hold everything.

Epileptic power supply is still a thing in our country. I’ve watched businesses fold under diesel costs. I’ve spoken to students who study under streetlights and tailors who iron clothes with charcoal iron. We cannot industrialise or even modernise without fixing electricity. And it’s shameful that despite decades of reform and billions spent, we still have epileptic power supply. Electricity is not a luxury; it’s infrastructure for progress. We must embrace renewable energy, decentralise power generation, and hold DisCos accountable for theft disguised as billing. States should be allowed to develop and manage their own grids. If we don’t fix power, we can forget every other dream, from job creation to digital innovation.

I have seen people whose parents worked thirty years in public service and now live in poverty because their pensions were either delayed, slashed, or stolen. I’ve spoken to teachers who go months without salary but still show up to class.

We demand efficiency from civil servants, yet treat them like expendables. We can’t reform the civil service without restoring dignity to it. That means prompt payment, competitive wages, and performance-based growth, not just payroll cleaning and PR committees. You can’t ask someone to build the nation with an empty stomach and a broken spirit. What they are paid now only encourages corruption because it can’t take care of their needs.

I grew up hearing that no one is above the law, but I’ve lived long enough to know that in Nigeria, the law often avoids the powerful. Corruption is so normalised that when someone actually gets prosecuted, it feels like a miracle.

I’ve seen probes go nowhere. I’ve watched scandals trend for days, only to fade into silence. I’ve seen whistleblowers punished while looters run for office.

We must end this culture of impunity. We need strong, truly independent institutions, not ones that wait for presidential permission before acting. We need public records, open contracts, and digital traceability. And, most of all, we need to start rewarding integrity, not just influence.

As someone who benefited from public education, it hurts to see the decay. Classrooms are overcrowded. Lecturers are poorly paid. Children in rural areas sit on bare floors. Ghanaians turned us to a butt of jokes recently sharing pictures of hostels in our tertiary institutions. How do we expect to build a 21st-century economy with 19th-century schools?

We must invest, not just in infrastructure, but in people. Teachers should be treated as essential workers. Students should be exposed to technology early. Our curriculum must evolve to include entrepreneurship, ethics, and problem-solving.

No society has ever prospered while neglecting its educators and its children. Ours will not be the exception.

Our problem is not just about leadership. We, the led, also need to change. It’s easy to point fingers at ‘the system’, but the system is made up of us. I’ve seen people cheat in exams, bribe police officers, hoard fuel, inflate prices during emergencies, and rig elections, all while cursing politicians on social media.

Our population is booming and our youth are restless. We cannot continue with cosmetic reforms and expect structural change.

I believe Nigeria can rise. I believe we can fix power, pay workers a truly living wage, educate our children at global standard, hold leaders accountable and rebuild trust in this wounded republic.

But that will require more than tweets and prayers. It will require sustained effort, painful sacrifices, and courageous conversations.

My final take: We can’t demand a just Nigeria while practising injustice in our daily lives. We can’t call for reforms while upholding dysfunction. I believe that a new Nigeria must begin with a new mindset. It starts with showing up, speaking out, doing right and refusing to be complicit in rot.