Who will bear this burden

I was a land of tall trees and vast veldts, of raging rivers and soaking springs, of proud women and courageous men. I was the bastion that bared my back to bear the baton of my race in the race of sovereignties. But once on my back, the baton became a burden. Who will bear the burden?

From a lighthouse of hope, I am now a landscape of iniquity. My people, all 150 million, bear burdens that have left them bent and beggarly, bereft of hope, bogged by visions they bought-in and believed in. That burden is the greatest burden in the world. It is the burden of leadership. Where are the ones to bear this burden?

My back is bent, my head bowed and my feet bandied, but the burden only gets bulkier with each passing era. The burden I bear has no vision; no direction; it cannot see my misery; it cannot hear my cry; it cannot feel my pain and it cannot sense my anger. I fear that I may not carry on much longer; it may be my heartrending legacy. Who will help my offspring bear this burden?

In this land of heart-wrenching pains, people still carry in their heads visions of unfulfilled dreams and the weight of a thousand broken promises. But even in this depths of despair, they can sight no site to sigh in silence. Not with a million contraptions churning out the cacophonic clatter and the cocktail of death inducing fumes of Individual Power Generation.

Never mind. That is the least of the burdens I bear. I bear the heaviest burden on God's earth, but cannot cry out for He has given me more than a fair share of what is needed to transform my landscape. So I hide my face in the presence of less endowed friends, and pretend that all is well. But I need help to bear this debilitating burden.

I have rich land and plenty of water, but I am fed by countries that have none of that; most of my people are farmers, but cannot use a tenth of my land; I have the largest government Africa, but the worst governance in the world; I have trained a million doctors, but none work in my hospitals; I have professors in every field, but they train the children of other lands. Who will bear the burden of their tomorrows?

Who will help me bear the burden of roads that cannot be driven on; water that is laced with disease; rivers that are glazed with waste; a mighty desert on a southward march; millions of people with no work to do; elected officials that steal us blind and their unelected relatives that rob us, rub our faces in the muck then mock us. Who will bear the burden of a billion dollars brokered and bound for distant lands?

The heaviest of my burdens is the colorless Recluse of the Seven Points with no agenda, though we did not place the burden on him. We knew his head was too frail, his perspective too regional, his dreams too constrained; his capacity too inadequate; his familial control, too loose. Our fate lie with the motley who say they are Africa's biggest; but have reduced governance to a banal cabal who only pledge the perpetual pillaging of public property for private purpose. Dear God, who will help us bear this burden?

A million of my people die each year for want of basic healthcare. My schools every year churn and turn out a million illiterates. My myriads of black robes and white wigs know nothing about law, and even less about justice. My leaders cut out huge chunks of my ancestral lands to impress the white man, then plunder my possessions to place in his vaults. Who will bear the burden of the man who gives meat to the hyena for safe-keeping?

The agony of my people can find no lexis; the depths of their sorrow, no expression; the betrayal of a generation, no justification. Theirs is a burden of leadership that seeks to grow hatred in hearts, illiteracy in heads and poverty in lives to maintain a heartless hegemony over the people of this once great land, and over their offspring. Where are the ones to bear this crushing burden?

Who will tell the burdens on our heads that all we want is opportunity for honest work to feed our families and train our children, markets for our farm produce, hospitals when ill, roads on which to travel and security of life and property? But even these basics are too much to expect. We get none of these, just the constant weight of a back-breaking burden that is Nigeria's tragedy of leadership. Who will help us bear this burden?

After these long decades, our backs are broken, our dreams stolen, our resolve molten. Where are those to relieve us of this burden? Who will tell my people that dying in silence would be a greater betrayal of this once proud land? Where are those to bear the burden of true liberation?

Where are the men of courage to declare that the time has come be rid of the monstrous burden of a despotic, directionless and diabolic leadership? Where are the braves to confront the tragedy of tyranny that has been our lot and restore this land to its ultimate destiny? Where are those to bear this burden?