By Hope O’Rukevbe Eghagha

The old year dies. An old year dies. New hopes arise. Twenty-twenty-four will die in days. Never to return. It will go into the abyss. We shall not miss it. Or, most of us will not miss it. It will be remembered as the year of infinite hardship in Nigeria. A year of hardship in which, in his first media chat, the President, father of the nation said that he doesn’t regret his hard policies. The people are suffering. So be it. They will enjoy the fruits later. No words of comfort. So insensitive. So uncaring. In 1983, then governor of Bendel State, the late Professor Ambrose Alli asked hungry, striking teachers whether they wanted him to produce money from his blood! That question sealed his fate. He was voted out at the next election, and the compassionate Samuel Ogbemudia became governor.

2024! It is the year we will never forget. It is the year of the triumph of the captors of the State. The year that some mothers sold off their children in order to feed. Or to raise capital and trade. Or just to survive. It is a year of full subsidy removal. It is the year when dozens died while queueing for the so-called palliatives. The year gas explosions killed many. The year in which bandits took control of parts of a state, while soldiers were busy killing innocent citizens in Okuama, Delta State. It is the year when bandits seized whole families. It is the year of slander, of defamation, and near-violent reprisals. It is the year of sudden deaths because of life’s pressures. The ebullient Onyeka Onwenu died while entertaining guests. What pains did she bear? It is the year where psychiatric wards were filled with patients. Victims of depression. It is the year the price of rice killed the appetite. It is the year of silence from the House of Men of God. The priests have elected to stay with their chattels in brothels of dishonour while the Feast of death reigns over the land!

A year lasts three hundred and sixty-five days. Or three hundred and sixty-six days, when it bears the burden of a leap year. Why is a leap year the brother of drowning compatriots? Yet, sometimes a year could seem like forever. A year with slow feet drags us back. Or keeps us still. And we cannot afford to stay motionless on account of a slow year. So, the year must die. It is true that even a sweet year will die.

What gives life to a year? Things said? Things done? Things undone? A year is potpourri of events. What is not done is part of the spirit of the year. Some years are more powerful than others. They carry with them the power of change. Of fortune. Of failure. Of disaster. Of death. Of life. Of escape. Of exclusion and inclusion. The force of a passing year hits us in different ways. How it comes and from what direction, we are not prophets to tell. So, we grope. We hope. We plod on in hope that the new year will grow vegetables for us even in our dark days. What audacity! What presumptuousness!

Sometimes we are in a hurry to push the year away. A year that is bad, needs to go away. No one wants to live a permanent nightmare. A bad year kills the spirit. Only the strong ones or the ones favoured by heaven will survive. Those who arrive at their last bus stop will go no further. They will pass away with the spirit and temper of the year. Whose fault is it? The year? The managers of the people, that is, the government? Just providence? In times of an epidemic, it is bad for everybody, even if not all carry the virus. The fear of the virus is enough prison, as it happened during COVId-19.

A good man can die in a bad year. Just as a bad man can die too with the year. When a year opens its belly to receive your body into the abyss, your hands will be hanging from your sides. And the carriers of the carcass will proclaim how heavy the carcass has become. It is the way of life. It is the road which mankind has travelled on in aeons. Yet, we do not live in humility. We live as if we own life, as if it was not given to us, and that it can be taken away at short notice.

Yet, how dreadful would it be if we were to live in constant dread of disaster, of disease, and of death! Physical trepidation could injure the heart. Could traumatise one and lead to mental health challenges. The joy of living would disappear. So, we are wired to forget so that we may enjoy the little pleasures of this life. The tragedy or death of a loved one – family, friend, colleague, neighbour – reminds us with a jolt of our mortality, our frail being, our smallness in the mighty scheme of things. We are not different from animals in this sense. There was this Anglican bishop who used to urge politicians to visit the morgue once every year. In his view, that would sober them up for a while. Have you been to the morgue recently to view a loved one? Have you ever been to a morgue? How did you feel even in the most sophisticated and ‘poshest’ morgue? This call to forget and remember at the same time is one of the conundrums of humanity. How we walk the tight rope makes or mars us. Every man his fate, every man his cross, every man his sadness, everyman his death.

From the sobering morgue experience, we move to the burial site and immediately walt off to the party venue and dance away with zest and gusto, forgetting the dead, remembering only the living. And we have no apology for that. It is the way of life. It is the way of the living. To remember is to cry. To forget is to live on! Contradictory? Yes. The world is filled with contradictions.

Except we record the events of the year, no one remembers the year. No one can forget 2019/2020, the year of COVID-19! So, the year must give birth. Give birth to etches. Things to remember. Memories are the library of a dead or dying year. What memories do we hold about a year? The dying year 2024 took my closest sibling away. Wish 2024 never came. True that our paths bifurcated on account of social and religious frictions. Yet the bond of eternal brotherhood remains. It is the way of memories. It is the way of life. Regrets often come later, after the event, after the facts.

Reading this essay is no guarantee that the reader will survive 2024 and enter the belly of 2025. Those who left the earth on 25th December had high hopes. But providence had other plans. January 1st 2025 is coming. But will this coming be the going away of some? We are no prophets to tell! Only time will tell!

HAPPY 2025!

By Tony Afejuku

The subject of hunger cannot but enter the lens of this column today – for hunger is a burning issue and subject that is part of Nigeria’s cultural studies currently that experts in the field and discipline cannot but give attention to at this point in time. Indeed, at this point of our democratic dispensation we must be committed to examining all that we possibly can examine about the unusual hunger that is now part of our new culture.

Clearly, if culture is how we respectively live our everyday lives, then it is worth studying or focusing on. How we are surviving in this democracy that has no respect or sympathy for our stomachs is really worth examining and interrogating from the perspective of culture. Culture is how we live and survive. What do we eat to live? What do we eat to survive? What do we feed on to live in harmony with one another? To ask the last question in another way: How can we be happy if and when we don’t eat or feed well? Or if and when we don’t have the wherewithal to eat, feed and live well and happily, how can we do our duties rightly and patriotically for your country my country our country? These are pertinently essential and essentially pertinent questions within the domain of cultural studies. To get answers that we may deem accurate to these questions, we may need to think of the relations between food, or, more accurately, between hunger and power. Michel Foucault (1926-1984), the French historian of ideas and philosopher, literary critic, and political activist and teacher who has been acknowledged generally as the foremost scholar to have done the most substantially significant and the most significantly substantial work on the relations between power and culture, would weep for your country my country our country were he to rise from his grave today and visit this land where un-democratic hunger whips us all with the whip of whips. Oh! How power reigns and rules with the whip of power! Oh! How the whip of power has unleashed hunger on the land, this land! Oh! How the whip of hunger manufactured by fellows who are mis-appliers of power and its weapons have un-dignified us all with huge hunger!

I am writing this with painful pain, and tearful tears. I am writing this in a state of joyless joylessness. I am writing this in a state of mournful mournfulness. I am writing this in December – in December-less December, in December of December-ful hunger – created by peculiar political conditions in a country, in a land, called Nigeria where stampedes for food kill, kill, kill and kill, kill, kill the people, boys and girls, men and women, old and un-old, every now and then. But this December has been a December to be ever remembered for its stampedes of deathful deaths in Ibadan, Abuja, Okija, and elsewhere hurrying nigh. Oh December of Christmas-less Christmas! Deaths, deaths, deaths and deaths, deaths, deaths all in your name and in your season of hunger-ful hunger unknown before now! And a father’s groan: “What do we eat now? My boy is saved. But what will we eat now?” A mother wailed: “Five thousand, five thousand naira line and queue, a mere five thousand, and my girl is dead! My daughter is dead! Killed by five thousand.”

Anyone or any reader who is not profoundly affected by these wailings (and other hunger-induced debris in the land) must have buried in his being the heart of stone regulated by the impure impurity of wickedness. And anyone, any reader, who rejects this view shall invite us to recognize in his or her being the apparently related relations between their muddied and muddled hearts and those of the hypocrites in political power. We will not be surprised if fake words, fake outpourings of sympathy, from our people in political power will now stage an assault on the true feelings of all of us who are hungry, but are still lucky to be alive because we were fortunate to miss the rice, naira and vegetable oil stampedes. From now till heaven knows when the fantastical outpourings of sympathy and sundry sentiments will enter the spaces of our electronic and non-electronic media. The politics of tragic lies and deceits will invade our unwilling consciousness officially through the popular press. Of course, such active social and political lies would not be unnecessary in the absence of hunger and economic hardship in the land. If food was cheap, if our naira was worth its name and real value, if the price of a litre of fuel was not excessively excessive, the reality of our new normal, or our new normalization of hardship that would require us to perish before we would live to survive and survive to live, would be a non-reality.

Let me at this point say openly that akara is part of my daily or almost daily fabulous menu. I cherish it every morning and evening. But for quite some-time now this delicacy of mine has not entered my mouth. The recklessly high cost of beans used for its production now debars it from my qualitative menu. In Lagos, Benin, Sapele and Warri which I ransacked at different times in my quest to know precisely how akara producers-cum-sellers sell similar fried moulds of akara, I discovered that the prices for the moulds hover/hovered between one hundred and two hundred for small or average moulds. Above average and king size moulds hover/hovered between five hundred and one thousand naira. Once upon a time in the not too distant past I could not consume five hundred naira worth of akara at a go. But this is not the case any longer. In Lagos or Benin or Sapele or Warri, to send the right message to my stomach, I need nothing less than four thousand naira worth of akara. I am not a glutton. I am not a heavy eater. The reality, however, is that eating eight thousand naira worth of akara alone every morning and every evening is injuring my pocket in a fantastically painful manner. If I am complaining as I hereby do, you can imagine how bleakly bleak the situation of our less fortunate compatriots is or can be. They cannot readily eat akara any longer! If you doubt me, go do your own research today, and report your findings tomorrow or next tomorrow.

Nigerians are not living. Nigerians are dying and will continue to die of hunger. Hardly is anyone in the lower ring of our society eating a decent meal. Hardly is anyone in the class of the down-trodden eating a meal of quality, that is, even if they ever have anything to eat every blessed day. Let no one be deceived or be carried away by the utopian economic fantasies of our politicians in power. On this score I have a number of offerings to render and tender. But I will not go beyond here. Yet I should like to advise, unsolicited, the President and his presidencynologists thus: In the New Year they should compel themselves to enact policies that must provoke the right conversation that must enable even their critics to explore the dialectic of like and dislike, of “attraction and rejection,” in the endeavour to halt and end our current fatalism. President Ahmed Tinubu, the only PAT in the land must make this his burning issue in the New Year. It is time for him to find time to read and digest Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations from the very beginning to the very end. Doing so shall enervate our President to stop our dystopia.

Afejuku can be reached via 08055213059.

By Toyin Falola

This is a long read on an important subject. We are about to phase out, in the next three years, the Gen Z and replace them with the Gen Alpha. The first set will graduate from high school in the 2025/2026 session. Get ready! Africa is strangely plagued with a long list of issues that have endured for many years despite being a nation full of possibilities. A widespread and persistent taint of corruption has crept into the fabric of government, undermining confidence and development. For young people, in particular, the high unemployment rate paints a depressing picture of wasted potential and unfulfilled aspirations. Outdated political structures and a leadership class more focused on preserving power than fostering an innovative environment often eclipse the promise of democracy. Also, economic instability induced by government errors and global inflation puts many millions of people on the brink of destitution.

Despite the persistent challenges, Africans have, over several decades, developed tools to navigate this volatile environment, tenaciously persisting and adjusting through demanding times. Still, over a great part of the nation’s history, collective actions against these systematic flaws have been sporadic and essentially reactionary. Many Africans, especially the older generations, have accepted the government’s shortcomings as inevitable, a weight that cannot be avoided, rather than issues that must be actively addressed. Cultural standards that emphasize respect for authority and the idea that change must start from the highest levels of political power have further eroded the concept of responsibility.

Born into a continent already suffering from political stagnation, economic inequalities, and unrest, Gen Alpha is poised to join this reality. Unlike their predecessors, this generation is being raised with the required tools to address problems rather than merely inheriting them. Equipped with an intuitive knowledge of technology, a strong sense of global citizenship, and a creative streak that blossoms even in the face of shortage, Gen Alpha is rewriting the script. These children and teenagers are growing up in an atmosphere where demands for accountability, activism, and demonstrations are no longer subdued but rather yelled loudly on global forums. As the first generation to witness the full potential of online activism in real time, they allow even the voices of the most underprivileged people to start movements that transcend national borders. Gen Alpha is showing a relentless need to create their responses, question accepted fate, and demand more from those in charge in a nation where governments have regularly fallen short of their promises.This generation is not waiting for a revolution; they are steadily creating one in a calm, consistent, and peaceful manner. The activities they engage in reflect a notable shift in the African social fabric, defined by a rejection of blind patriotism, the challenge of complacency, and the embrace of responsibility and creativity as essential tools for nation-building. Gen Alpha is fundamentally a reflection of the creativity to make the ideal of a better Africa a reality and the boldness to dream of such.

Africa’s Gen Alpha is ready to challenge conventional wisdom and bring in a new age connected with responsibility, development, and innovation at a time when young movements all around the world have been responsible for overthrowing governments, redefining economies, and reshaping societal norms. Their activities are already being felt in homes, schools, and internet groups, and this is only the beginning. This generation will redefine wealth creation outside the idea of handouts, hold power responsible in a manner never seen before, and use technology to realize goals.

With Gen Alpha, Africa is entering a new era, not merely experiencing the birth of a new generation. This is not just because they were born in 2010 upwards, but because they are growing up in a world quite different from prior generations, which sets them apart from any other generation. The early memories of these children and teenagers are shaped by a society full of connectivity and creativity. Globally, they are the offspring of Millennials—a generation that bridged the gap between analogue and digital technologies. Gen Alpha has only ever known the smooth integration of technology into daily life. Their environment is one in which everything is on demand, including smart devices and touchscreens, which are rather the norm.

When kids grow up, they begin their entrepreneurial path with their first YouTube channel or coding project, where creativity becomes a form of money. Gen Alpha is starting businesses, creating content, and influencing markets across the globe even before they reach the age required to vote. Their technical knowledge is not learned; rather, it comes naturally, paving the way for a future generation that will rethink what it means to create, work, and live. While these traits are global, they are especially unique in Africa, where the furnace of political and economic changes has shaped the Gen Alpha.
Unlike their counterparts in more stable countries, Gen Alpha in Africa is personally familiar with the consequences of malfunctioning systems. Adversity is not just a concept for Gen Alpha in Africa; it is the backdrop against which they are growing up. Their early years are marked by systemic corruption, where inefficiency and exploitation regularly complicate even the most fundamental civic processes. They grow up driving on pothole-filled roads, attending schools where strikes cause months of interrupted learning, and experiencing such frequent power outages that generators have become a common feature of life. Yet, instead of caving into despair, these children are learning to be tenacious and solve problems.

Parents from the Millennial and Gen Z generations who are tech-savvy, informed, and progressively dissatisfied with the status quo contribute to this resilience. By helping their children to take ownership of their lives, these parents—many of whom have struggled to find opportunities in a system designed to stifle them—are building a sense of independence and agency in their children. Rather than seeing technology as only a source of entertainment, they teach their children to question authority, think critically, and use technology as a tool for empowerment. In many African households, when it comes to the future, waiting for government participation is no longer a topic of conversation. Instead, they concentrate on self-sufficiency—generating revenue, creating solutions, and avoiding system inefficiencies. Gen Alpha is largely anchored in this idea. To them, conventional paths of success, such as working for the government, getting pensions, or just dedicating oneself to a specific field of work, seem outdated and even humorous. Exposure to lifestyles from across the world made possible by social media has expanded their viewpoint. Seeing young people in other parts of the globe starting companies, creating software, and influencing public policy has influenced their belief that they can achieve the same, if not more. Growing up, these youngsters develop a strong awareness that borders are becoming less relevant in a society that is becoming increasingly digital. The things that count are skill, access, and a willingness to think differently.

The challenges that Gen Alpha faces in Africa shape many aspects of their lives. Regarding their problems, they do not believe that the government will help resolve them. The older generations, who were taught to be tenacious and flexible, do not share their degree of complacency. Still, their lack of resources has made them bold, creative, and relentless in their pursuit of a better life. While previous generations see change as a slow and regular external process, Gen Alpha sees it as something they can create themselves. These children will grow into individuals who create platforms to elevate marginalized voices, design software to solve traffic problems and start businesses that not only survive but flourish in an unsteady economy.

For a good part of Africa’s history, respect for individuals in positions of authority has been the norm. Older generations, shaped by military regimes and colonial dominance, often adopted a calm tolerance when faced with systemic flaws. Whether it was held by a government official, a traditional king, or an elderly member of society, challenging authority was uncommon. Respect was linked with obedience, and dissent was considered irresponsible, as it was deemed a direct assault on the well-ingrained cultural standards of hierarchy and order. Children were taught to accept decisions made by those in authority, regardless of their competency or good intentions, and to lower their eyes when speaking to elders. Many houses followed this daily ritual, and the docile culture permeated even government, where successive administrations thrived on a population too weary from economic hardships to confront them.

Many Africans, believing that change could only be brought about by supernatural intervention or a miracle passed down from generation to generation, accepted corruption, ineptitude, and simple apathy as their reality. For many years, their collective attitude focused more on survival than confrontation. However, the narrative veers differently as soon as Gen Alpha shows up. This generation is rejecting passively accepting the status quo, as they have been raised in a digital era where knowledge can be obtained instantaneously and without any filtration. Now, they scream into the internet the tales of corruption and exploitation their parents told behind closed doors.

Retweets, hashtags, and viral videos help to validate these tales. Without them, silence becomes complicity, fueling system degradation rather than a virtue. Unlike their predecessors, Gen Alpha are not shy about demanding responsibility at every level of government. They find it puzzling that roads remain unpaved even though money has been allocated for development. They question political officials who try to evade public scrutiny and hold them responsible for unmet promises. Through social media channels such as Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram, they can instantly expose inefficiencies, corruption, and injustice. Africa is most likely to witness a more robust culture of openness.

The 2020 #EndSARS movement was a significant event that challenged police aggression and demanded responsibility from an agency meant to protect lives, not recklessly waste the lives of young people for baseless reasons. Though Millennials and Gen Z were the major players in the production, it was difficult to ignore the presence of Gen Alpha’s voices and their eyes giving testimonies. Many of them, though too young to participate physically in the protests, heard the shouts and saw the images on social media. They absorbed the lesson that silence is complicity and that change is possible when people gather. Consequently, they engaged in online campaigning, acquiring the tools and tactics of activism. They witnessed the effectiveness of collective action and the futility of silence, absorbing these lessons in readiness for the challenges their generation will encounter going forward. These experiences are shaping them into more informed and active participants, emboldened to attempt restoring sanity and integrity in a society plagued by widespread corruption across various sectors.