“My kind of loyalty was loyalty to one’s country, not to its institutions or its officeholders. The country is the real thing, the substantial thing, the eternal thing; it is the thing to watch over, care for, and be loyal to; institutions are extraneous; they are its mere clothing, and clothing can wear out, become ragged, cease to be comfortable, cease to protect the body from winter, disease, and death.” ― Mark Twain

In one village, there is a handsome and intelligent man named James. He is very clean and dresses well. He also speaks English and French very fluently.

Usually, when someone dies, the whole village will gather, and able-bodied young men will dig the grave, bury the corpse, and cover it very well. The women will prepare Abacha while the men will come with kegs of palm wine. It is very well organized, communally. Everyone plays his/her part to make the burden light for the bereaved family.

Every time this occurred, James came with a newspaper. He would find a very comfortable position, sit, and cross his legs, reading the newspaper while others worked on the grave. There seemed to be nothing wrong with this, as there were plenty of hands on the job.

One day, James’ father kicked the bucket. What a day! The whole village gathered as usual. But there was something strange about the gathering. Guess what? Every young man came there well dressed, with a newspaper and a chair. They all sat down and read newspapers! Onyema, who did not break slate way back in primary school days, also had one, even though he held it upside down.

There was an uneasy calm that enveloped the atmosphere. The environment was hot, even though it was early in the morning during the harmattan season. The dice was cast. It was payback time. James was about to receive the reward for his actions over the years.

And so, the corpse was there, but no one was digging the grave. James came out of the house and saw the situation. He was helpless. He is the only young man in the family. His other two siblings are girls. He broke down and wept like a child. He wept not for the dead but for himself. He realized that he was a living, dead man. He pleaded for mercy to no avail. Finally, he dug the grave alone while others read their newspapers.

In a country governed by foreigners. A country that has at its head Indigenes of some tribes I love Nigeria, I sincerely do because I possibly have no choice, I could love America, England, Poland, or even neighboring Ghana and become a Nigerian-Arabian or Israeli-born Nigerian it makes no difference because we are Nigerians, we are who we are…exceptional in our way…a people who for several decades have placed their hands on the self-destruct button but somehow it never detonates, we have remained on the 11:59 threshold of everything deadly, dangerous and anti-people yet it never hits 12.

So, I love Nigeria, the land where everything, anything, all things are possible, it depends only on where you stand and what you can benefit from.

From Lagos, our own New York, to Abuja, the expensive London with Beverly Hills homes only for the rich and mighty, to Rivers, Imo, Ekiti, Oyo, Ogun, our cowboy Texas…We have our Chicago-styled Police; then we have so many Bronx sites where you could get anything from fake passports to late Abacha or Abiola’s signatures.

Need I tell you about our own Afghanistan, our own Syria, or our emerging DRC, or don’t you know there are parts of Nigeria competing favorably with Mexico in terms of abductions and kidnapping?

Nigeria…God’s own country in black Africa, how many times have I been told that even God is Nigerian, especially when we have goofed and expect a miracle or when we are losing a soccer match?

Nigeria is the only country in the world that has no Citizens. What we have in Nigeria are indigenes. All your Privileges, Rights, and Duties as a supposed citizen depend on your “Indigeneship.” Loyalty and Patriotism to Nigeria because of that is zero. Everybody is a Tribal Lord. You cannot be anybody or authority if you don’t subscribe to any clan, state, zone, or tribe.

The Army is a National Body. It has people from all walks of life and tribes as its members. It has a Defence Academy in Kaduna. You were born in Kaduna to Abeokuta parents or even Bolawa Parents from Potiskum. Another one might have Ijaw parents from Delta or Nkanu Parents from Enugu. All born and bred in Kaduna.

If they want to join the Army, Nigeria, a country without citizens, will ask the candidates to go back to their state capital. The capital of their tribe and the center for national disintegration.

Every form you fill out in Nigeria will want to know your tribe and religion. Who Born You? Government officials represent their tribes in government and not Nigeria. Nobody represents Nigeria in anything. We only stand for our tribes to whom we owe our Indigenship.

Every government policy is tailored to denying true Nigerians their citizenship. Every government policy is tailored to promoting Indigenship as against citizenship. That is why Nigeria today is without protection. All the Tribal Lords in Government at all levels work to protect their tribal interests.

Nobody cares about our national interest. They loot and loot and loot the country dry because they have no citizen stake and patriotism. Only indigenous sentiment is what prevails. This is because the government of Nigeria does not care about building the citizens of Nigeria. They are building Indigenes.

The first time I was told that I was not an indigene and could not go to Secondary School with my mates after our Primary school was during an interview by the school Board. I didn’t know until then that being an indigene of certain places and leaving those places to go and stay outside what they call a catchment Area could be detrimental to your existence as a Nigerian.

Early enough in life, I discovered that the government of Nigeria does not give me many options. I must be an indigene to be somebody or something.

True Nigerians are suffering. True Nigerians are relegated because, like James, many just sit to read newspapers, many just sit and read newspapers while Nigerians die in Ibadan because of N5K Charity, at an Islamic High School, others meet their death at a Christian church in Abuja in another stampede to get rice.

We are almost at the end of another year. Maybe we have not collapsed as a nation, but we are still debating whether we are making any progress, patriots like us who keep digging want to see Nigeria win, but the association of newspaper readers want otherwise, will we ever get it right—Only time will tell.