Every year on Nigerian Independence Day, we see the flags, the green-and-white outfits, and the “Happy Independence Day” messages. And, of course, plenty of people asking what we are celebrating. But this year, I wanted to do something a little different. I’m not here to tell you what to cook or not to cook today. This is for my dear country, Nigeria.
Do you remember what Nigerian Independence Day felt like when you were a child?
For many of us, it meant a small paper flag and a green and white outfit or traditional wear. Then came a long parade under the hot sun or a school cultural presentation. Then you got home and found something good cooking. Most times it was rice and stew or soup and swallow. Nothing fancy. That memory came back to me this week. Nigeria turns 66 today and I kept asking myself how I wanted to mark it. The answer was in my heart, not in any recipe.
So, dear Nigeria, this is for you.
We have a complicated relationship, you and I. There are days when you make me so proud to be Nigerian. And there are other days when I honestly wonder why you enjoy stressing your citizens so much. But somehow, through all of it, you are still home.
Dear Nigeria,
Thank you for giving me a childhood filled with things I didn’t know were special at the time. I’m grateful for the noisy family gatherings, the neighbours who somehow knew everybody’s business, and the aunties who could ask about marriage before even asking how work was going. I’m grateful too for the uncles who always had an opinion about everything.
Thank you for the way Nigerians turn almost anything into a joke. Sometimes you can be having the worst day imaginable. Then someone says something so ridiculously funny, or you watch a funny meme, and you forget your problems for a moment. We complain about the traffic, the power supply, and the cost of things. We complain about the internet, work, and basically everything else. But somehow, there is still laughter in the middle of it all. And that is one thing I love about us.
I love how creative Nigerians are.
Give a Nigerian a problem and, somehow, there is usually someone trying to find a solution. We create businesses from our homes, turn hobbies into careers, and build brands from scratch. We make music that travels far beyond our borders and tell stories that people everywhere want to hear. Nigerians are everywhere, and wherever we go, we carry a little piece of home with us. The food, music, slang, accent, and “I’m coming” that could mean hours. There is something beautiful about that.
But Nigeria, let’s be honest.
You frustrate me too. Sometimes you make simple things unnecessarily difficult. Sometimes you make people work twice as hard for opportunities that shouldn’t be so difficult to access. And sometimes I look at the talent and creativity of Nigerians, and I wonder what we could achieve if more things simply worked the way they should.
There are days when loving Nigeria feels complicated. But maybe loving a country doesn’t mean pretending everything is perfect. Maybe it means being able to say, “I love you, but I know you can do better.” I want Nigeria to do better. Still, I am grateful for the Nigeria that shaped me.
So, this Nigerian Independence Day, I don’t want to pretend that Nigeria is perfect. I simply want to appreciate the country for what it has given me while still hoping for what it can become.
And today, like most Nigerian celebrations, I’ll be marking it the way we know best: with a plate of jollof rice and chicken.
So, happy Independence Day, Nigeria.
Thank you for being home.
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Happy independent day, enjoy your rice