Nigerian, that is our identity. In times past, it was our blessing, and in times present, it may very well be our curse. The monster of notredame was just ugly, and by its look, the content of its heart was judged. Cinderella’s outlook was pitiful, therefore yet future seemed predestined.
Our young’s have wallowed in the mud of survival for years, because living life to its fullest had been the fantasy. We blame the governments, we blame the citizens, we blame the gods, and we blame all else except ourselves… But we understand through wisdom, that life warms up not to just words or to men who wait for chance, but to those who through all circumstance say to themselves “I am responsible for my own life”.
Our greatest fear is not that we are not able, our greatest fear is about the opinions of men. Therefore we wake regardless of the odds, we see through the darkness, we hear through deafness, we feel through numbness, and we hope through this grimness… Hope is the true genius of Nigerians, hope that propels to action, hope that does not disappoint. And by that I look into your eyes to say. I am Nigerian, and I am blessed