To the best of our poor efforts, Nigeria remains a society that frequently prioritises ethnic loyalty over merit. This is most evident in our politics at every level, and at the national level, ndi Igbo in Nigeria face a unique and paradoxical challenge, which I call the burden of excellence. While other major ethnic groups readily support their own candidates, even those with questionable character or credentials, ndi Igbo often hold their potential leaders to impossibly high standards, standards that the majority of individuals among them could not meet themselves. Ironically, this insistence on righteousness, competence, and near-flawlessness has become a major handicap for ndi Igbo in the Nigerian political sphere. Unlike their counterparts who rally behind mediocre or even evidently corrupt candidates simply because they are "one of their own", ndi Igbo scrutinize their own with relentless precision that most of the time borders on spite and sadism. This results in them ...
My childhood bloomed in Southeast Nigeria, where stories danced in the palm trees. Enugu, a city thrumming with literary history, held a special magic for me. Here, Achebe, Nwapa, and Adichie ignited imaginations and gifted the world with classics. But in 2013, when I arrived as a research librarian, reality hit me. The birthplace of giants boasted only one underfunded library, and the vibrant reading culture I had dreamt of was absent. Enugu pulsed with youthful energy in its bars, yet beneath the surface, a disquiet simmered. Literacy rates dropped, creative spaces vanished, and a talent drain flowed toward Lagos and Abuja. This stark contrast ignited a question in me: How could storytelling bridge the gap and reignite Enugu’s literary flame? Initially, I didn’t connect the absence of creative spaces with inequality. This perspective shifted when I began volunteering with education-focused organizations. These experiences exposed me to the harsh realities of urban slums in Enugu. The...
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