In the heart of Nigeria, where the soil glimmers with mineral wealth and the air trembles with fear, a question rises like dust from a forgotten road: What does a government choose to protect, the veins of the earth or the pulse of its people? This essay explores a troubling paradox: while citizens face escalating violence, kidnappings, and terror, the state appears more invested in safeguarding mineral resources than human lives. Through policy choices, security deployments, and silence in the face of tragedy, Nigeria’s prerogative seems increasingly tilted toward profit over protection. A Nation in Crisis Nigeria’s security landscape is fractured. From the forests of Zamfara, the farmlands of Benue and Nasarawa, to the highways of Kaduna, Anambra, and Imo, citizens live under siege. Bandits raid villages, terrorists strike with impunity, ‘unknown gunmen’ maraud both day and night, and kidnappings have become a grim economy. In the first half of 2023 alone, over 3,000 people ...
Taciturn describes someone who speaks very little, often by choice. It’s not mere shyness or social awkwardness, it’s a cultivated quietness, a preference for silence over speech. In design and technology, taciturnity manifests as a quiet intelligence, a presence that knows when to speak and when to hold back. It appears in minimal interfaces that communicate only when necessary, allowing users to breathe and orient themselves without pressure. It shapes feedback loops with poetic pacing, where silence is not a gap but part of the emotional rhythm, a pause that affirms rather than interrupts. It guides session-aware systems that practice restraint, gently inviting rather than overwhelming. Taciturn design is emotionally intelligent. It doesn’t shout. It waits. It listens. It honours the user’s tempo. Before we enter the realm of taciturn design, a principle rooted in sacred restraint, we must first trace the contours of taciturnity itself: as spiritual gesture, as leadership postur...