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Introduction Nigeria has never lacked for conversations about corruption. What we often lack, however, is honesty about its full spectrum. We condemn the petty thief with righteous fury, yet we whisper, sometimes even applaud, when the “smart thief” in high office plunders the nation with a fountain pen. Both forms of theft drain the lifeblood of the country. Both undermine the well‑being of the state. Yet only one group is routinely demonized, while the other is shielded by power, influence, and a justice system that bends like wet cardboard. This article argues that Nigeria’s crisis is not merely about petty criminality on the streets. It is about a culture that normalizes grand theft at the top while pretending to be shocked by the survival crimes at the bottom. Until we confront this hypocrisy, Nigeria will remain “every year, a child,” stunted while other nations grow with responsibility and dignity. Petty Thieves: The Condemned Faces of Survival Crime A few weeks ago, soc...

Nigeria’s poorest citizens are locked in a silent contest of survival against two very different but equally destructive forces. On one side stand the unregulated pastoralists whose cattle roam freely into farmlands. On the other side stand the political elites: governors, commissioners, and agencies, who bulldoze homes and seize ancestral lands in the name of industrialization, road expansion, and “development.” One group carries sticks and machetes: the other carries constitutions, bulldozers, and state power. Yet the outcome for the poor is strikingly similar: dispossession, hunger, and despair. The Pastoralist Problem: When Cattle Become Weapons Across many rural communities, herders release their cattle into farmlands as though the crops were planted for the animals. Maize, cassava, rice, yam leaves, legumes, everything becomes fodder. These are not just crops; they are the lifeline of families who depend on them for food, school fees, and survival. Humans eat crops. Human...

Introduction History is humanity’s compass. It points to the present, warns of danger, and protects the future. Every society that has risen from chaos to stability has done so by remembering, by holding its past close enough to learn from it, yet far enough to transcend it. But what happens when a nation forgets? When memory is not merely lost but buried? When the past is not a teacher but a corpse? The present becomes hollow, and the future becomes a casualty. Nigeria today is a living example of what it means for a people to exist without memory. It is a nation where remembrance has been wiped out, where collective experience has been cleansed, where lessons once learned are now discarded like waste. Nigeria’s absurdity is not accidental; it is the predictable outcome of a society that refuses to be informed by its own history. The Paradox of a People Who Kill the Past and Bury the Future The title of this essay carries a deliberate paradox: Nigeria’s present buries the past...

Introduction “Ebela m akwa ụwa” meaning I have cried about my world is more than a song. It is a lament, a confession, a spiritual mirror held up to the human condition. When the Oriental Brothers released this highlife classic, they were not merely entertaining; they were interpreting life. They were naming the ache of existence, the fragility of fortune, and the inevitability of accountability before God. The song’s central metaphor, the world as a marketplace is one of the oldest in Igbo cosmology. Life is a temporary market trip; no matter how long you stay, you must eventually pack your wares and return home. And when you do, you stand before the One who sent you. In today’s Nigeria, this metaphor feels painfully relevant. The poor cry about their world because their world has become unbearably heavy. Political instability, economic hardship, social fragmentation, and religious manipulation have turned daily survival into a spiritual trial. This essay draws from the song’...

Introduction The word viaticum carries a double resonance: one literary, one theological. In Birago Diop’s poem Viaticum , a mother prepares her child for the journey into life. She marks the child with ritual gestures, invokes the breath of the ancestors, and sends them forth with the assurance that they are not alone. It is a poetic initiation, a covenant of protection. … With her three fingers red with blood, with dog’s blood, with bull’s blood, with goat’s blood, Mother touched me three times…. Then Mother said, ‘Go into the world, go! They will follow your steps in life.’… In Catholic tradition, viaticum refers to the final sacrament given to the dying, “food for the journey.” It is the Church’s way of saying: You will not walk this last road alone. We will accompany you with prayers, Holy Communion, tenderness and dignity. Both meanings converge on a profound truth: A community that cares prepares its people for the journey: whether into life or out of it. ...