February 20 marks World Day of Social Justice, and this is year’s theme is “Empowering Inclusion: Bridging Gaps for Social Justice."
It got me thinking...
Who Really Competes in This Country?
7:24 a.m.
In a gated estate in Lekki, a school bus honks softly.
A boy fixes his blazer in the mirror.
Two extra uniforms hang in his locker “just in case.”
His classroom has air-conditioning, smart boards, robotics clubs, and extra lessons for international exams.
His passport is ready before his ambition even starts.
His mother reminds him about coding lessons.
His father talks about summer programs in Canada, India or England.
His biggest worry this morning?
Forgetting his lunchbox.
7:24 a.m.
In a crowded compound across town in Ajegunle, another child is running.
Assembly has started.
His only pair of socks is still wet. His sandals buckle nowhere to be found. His uniform is torn with patches here and there.
His classroom holds eighty students with 36 tables and twelve textbooks.
The chalkboard has survived more governments than he has birthdays.
When it rains, the ceiling leaks.
He has heard speeches about “better schools.”
He has seen banners promising “a brighter future.”
But his desk is still broken.
Tell me—
Are these two children really competing in the same country?
Will they take the same exams?
Have the same chance for scholarships?
And we will say,
“If you work hard, you will succeed.”
Work hard with what?
With what tools?
With what support?
With what resources?
With what starting line?
This is the gap.
Not the kind you fix with cement or plaster or top-bond glue.
The kind you inherit.
We call it “background.”
But it is money.
It is government action.
It is priority.
Now that the first part has sunk...
Let's fast forward.
Two graduates.
One earns a First Class.
Studied through power outages, financial issues, ASUU strikes and economic breakdown.
Read by generator light or torch lights which batteries don't even last.
Fought with bad internet and multiple data recharge that cost a lot just to apply for jobs.
He waits.
There is a gap between the graduate who finishes with a first class and waits.
And waits.
While still refreshing their email over and over.
And waits again while still hearing the mantra "We'll get back to you" before finally being hit with the familiar "Dear applicant, with our sincerest apologies..."
The other graduates with a 2:2.
Before NYSC ends, a job is waiting.
“My uncle knows someone.”
"My aunty has a friend that has a friend that knows a friend."
“Send your CV.”
“It’s already sorted.”
Merit stands in line and is not attended to.
Connection does not even bother to queue.
“Na who know person dey enjoy.”
We laugh when we say it.
We say it like culture.
Like wisdom.
Like survival.
But every joke hides pain.
Because we have seen it:
The job that was filled before it was advertised.
The contract given only to people they know.
The scholarship that already had an owner but just advertised out to prove a point.
The promotion that depends on loyalty or who you know or who will sleep with who, and not skill.
And slowly, dangerously, we accept it saying...
“We move.”
“God will do it.”
“Na so e be.”
But hope is not policy.
Prayer although needed in every step of the way of life, is not a job application.
And accepting unfairness is definitely not justice.
And Nigeria is not alone.
Across the world, where you are born decides how hard you have to fight.
Your family name decides how far your resume goes.
Your accent decides if people listen to you.
Your gender and nationality decides if you are safe.
Your disability decides if people even notice you.
Your passport can be a key — or a barrier.
Globally, talent is everywhere.
Opportunities are not.
Tomorrow, we talk about what bridging these gaps truly demands.
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