Nigeria Happened to Me: A Country Breaking Its People

When ordinary life becomes a gamble and survival feels like a privilege, it is clear that a nation has failed its people. The phrase “Nigeria happened to me” has never been lighthearted. It means something went wrong, something that should never be normal. And even though nothing tragic has personally happened to me, I can no longer pretend that these stories are distant. Every headline pulls me closer. Every report feels like a warning. The fear that once felt far away now sits quietly beside us all. Because in today’s Nigeria, insecurity is not a rumor. It is a shadow following every family. <img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/pexels-planeteelevene-20159995.jpg"/>People are dying. Communities are grieving. And those in power speak and act as though the chaos surrounding us is just another part of daily life. But it is not ordinary. And it is not acceptable. Kidnappings, killings, burnt villages, attacks on places of worship, and the fear of simply traveling are not normal.So the frustration grows. Our leaders have the power to change this situation, yet they are not acting with the urgency it demands. Their silence and complacency hurt. Their careless statements make ordinary people feel abandoned. How can anyone speak of insecurity as if it is an unavoidable way of life? Leadership exists to protect, not to excuse suffering. We do not need to wait for another election before things improve. Action can begin now if those in authority decide that Nigerian lives truly matter. Security can be strengthened now. Communities can be protected now. Leadership is not a campaign promise. It is a daily responsibility. Right now, Nigerians are tired. Emotionally. Psychologically. Spiritually. <img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/pexels-receptcelik-9076532.jpg"/> Even without facing a direct attack, I feel the weight of this crisis. The stories are too many, too close, and too heavy. A child kidnapped in one state, a church attacked in another, a bus hijacked somewhere else, and your heart sinks. Because the distance between “them” and “us” fades more every day.So when someone says, “Nigeria happened to me,” it reflects trauma, fear, loss, and the pain of surviving in a place where survival should never be this hard. But then a deeper question arises. Nigerians already power their homes, dig their own boreholes, repair their own roads, pay for their own healthcare, and cover other basic amenities.These are responsibilities the government should handle. Now that security is failing too, what exactly is expected of us? Must we now provide our own security as well?Are we supposed to turn our homes into fortresses? Are our children now forced to learn how to stay safe before they even get a chance to enjoy childhood, play freely, feel safe or be happy? Are we expected to live as if constant danger is the natural order of things? No citizen should ever be placed in this position. We are not asking for too much. We only want a country where life is valued, where leaders protect their people and where safety is a right, not a privilege. We speak up not because we hate Nigeria, but because we love it too deeply to stay silent. We dream of a nation where families can live, travel, worship and simply exist without fear. We deserve better. And the time to act is not tomorrow. It is now.

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