By By Zainab Majek
Dear Nigeria,
I want to love you. Honestly. I do. I’ve tried so many times to hold on, to believe in you. I’ve defended you in places I should’ve kept quiet. I’ve tried to see beauty in your madness — in your noise, your dust, your never-ending problems.
Zainab Majek
But I’m tired, Nigeria. I’m really tired.
I’m tired of waking up to no light. Of hearing generating sets sound louder than my thoughts. Tired of seeing people suffer and act like it’s normal. Everything is a struggle — water, food, jobs. Even the air, sometimes, feels heavy.
And the news? Every day it’s one bad thing or the other. Kidnapping here, fuel price there, a politician stole money — again — and still walking free.
You say we should be hardworking. That if we just push more, we’ll make it. But tell me, who does hard work help? The people suffering most are the ones working the hardest.
We go to school, we graduate, and then what? Years pass. No job. No hope. Just vibes and pain.
But the worst part is that… I still care. I still get angry when outsiders insult you. I still smile when our music goes global. I still feel proud when we win anything — even small things.
Why? I don’t even know. Maybe because you’re inside me. Deep.
I wish I could stop caring. I wish I could just pack my bags and leave you behind. But I can’t. You’re home. And even when home is broken, we still carry it in our chest.
Maybe one day, you’ll change. Maybe one day, you’ll treat your children better. Maybe you’ll stop punishing us for being born here.
Until then, Nigeria, I’m just… tired. Not giving up yet. But not smiling either.
Just tired.
—A tired but still hoping Nigerian
Zainab Majek writes from FUTA
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