Introduction In Nigeria today, it has become painfully evident that education no longer pays. The irony is loud and clear: a person who has laboured through the grueling academic ladder – first degree, Master’s, and PhD – often finds themselves poorer than someone who sweeps office floors in other African countries. Across Africa and beyond, janitors and cleaners are treated with greater financial dignity than Nigerian scholars. This is not to smear the reputation of the janitors, or ridicule the honest cleaners; rather, it is to highlight the shameful undervaluing of academic excellence in Nigeria. When a PhD holder lives in debt, and a cleaner in South Africa, Kenya, or Ghana lives in dignity, something is tragically wrong with our system. It reveals, in the very depth, the misplacement of priorities in the country, and the endemic corruption that continues to perforate the socio-economic fabric of the Nigerian state. Table 1 and 2 below reveal frighteningly the dispar...
LAGOS, Armageddon
The air was thick with humidity, the familiar Lagos haze settling over the street like an unwanted blanket. Then, it began – not with an explosion, but with noise. A deafening mix of honking horns, frustrated shouts, and the sharp screech of tires locked in a desperate battle for space on a road already bursting at the seams.
In an instant, the scene unravelled into chaos. A motorcycle darted recklessly through a sea of pedestrians, narrowly missing a woman struggling to balance a basket overflowing with ripe tomatoes. A danfo bus, its brakes groaning in agony, jerked to a stop just inches from a sputtering roadside generator. Nearby, a street vendor’s cart, piled high with colourful fabrics, wobbled dangerously before tipping over – its vibrant contents spilling unceremoniously into a clogged, stinking gutter.
Then came the fight. A clash of tempers and fists, fuelled by the suffocating heat and sheer frustration of the moment. Angry voices rose, bodies tensed, hands swung. Meanwhile, a stray dog, indifferent to the human turmoil, nosed through discarded scraps, unfazed by the unfolding drama.
The noise swelled. Horns blared more desperately, voices grew shriller, tires screeched with even greater urgency. And then, as if Lagos itself decided to up the ante, the skies opened up. Rain–sudden, heavy, and unapologetic–poured down, drenching the scene in seconds. Water mixed with oil and filth, turning the street into a slippery, treacherous mess. The fight dissolved as quickly as it had begun, its participants scattering like startled cockroaches into the crowd.
The danfo driver, soaked and seething, let out a string of curses before slamming his foot on the gas, jerking forward to rejoin the madness.
And just as suddenly as it came, the chaos faded. The rain eased, leaving behind glistening, debris-strewn streets where life resumed without missing a beat. The storm had passed. But in Lagos, the battle never truly ends.Another five minutes, and the madness would begin all over again.
And for a fleeting moment you would not fail to think that Nigeria is Armageddon - the end where everything turns upside down in a chaotic somersault, as depicted in THE AKPOTI THORN IN THE AKPABIO FLESH, THE PRICE OF FREE SPEECH IN THE TINUBU GOVERNMENT, BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA, THE UNCONSTITUTIONAL UNDERLINING OF THE EMERGENCY DECLARATION IN RIVERS STATE, A BATTLE OF POWER, PRIDE, AND POLITICAL BETRAYAL, NIGERIA'S REPUTATION ON THE EDGE OF A GLOBAL PRECIPICE, and THE DECLARATION OF EMERGENCY IN RIVERS STATE AND ITS FAR-REACHING IMPLICATIONS.
Comments
Post a Comment