01/07/2025
IF YOU WERE IGBO, NOT HAUSA, YORUBA OR FULANI, WOULD YOU STILL BELIEVE IN ONE NIGERIA?
By Malcolm x
Let’s forget politics for a moment. Let’s forget flags and borders, constitutions and campaigns. Just you, you as a human being. Now ask yourself this: If you were born Igbo not hausa, Yoruba or fulani… would you still believe in one Nigeria?
Would you believe in a country that bombed your schools and starved your siblings, then called it unity? Would you believe in a country that gave you ₤20 after the war, no matter how much you had before it? Would you believe in a country where your shops were seized in Port Harcourt, your homes labeled as abandoned property, and your people still mocked for daring to remember?
And still today, when an Igbo man raises his voice, when he says, "Let me go," the country calls him a threat. But what do you call a place that’s never truly welcomed you back? You don’t burn a man’s house and then demand he laughs at your apology.
We all watched Nnamdi Kanu dragged in chains. Some celebrated. Some stayed silent. But in that silence is Nigeria's sickness. Not because we all agree with him, but because deep down, we know the system isn’t fair.
We know that if he were from a protected tribe, a different religion, or had stolen public funds instead of shouting about freedom, he’d be dining in A*o Rock, not rotting in DSS custody.
So I ask again: If you were Igbo, would you still believe in Nigeria? The answer is simple: You wouldn’t.
And you shouldn’t have to.
Because belief, like love, must be earned.
Now look at the North: bandits roam free, abducting schoolchildren, collecting ransoms, and receiving presidential attention. In the West, oil barons become ministers while their citizens become cash cows. In the Niger Delta, the land bleeds crude, but the people drink poison. In the East, remembrance is rebellion.
This country, our Nigeria is not failing because of tribe. It’s failing because truth became a threat, and injustice became law. When a nation builds on silence, it raises children who scream in pain and are punished for being loud.
I am from the North. But my heart breaks every time I read the truth written in the blood of my Igbo brothers. And if telling the truth makes me a traitor, then I’d rather betray this broken silence than betray humanity.
Nigeria must confront its ghosts, or be forever haunted by them. Let the East breathe. Let the North heal. Let the West reflect. Or let’s stop pretending we are one people. Because love without justice is a lie, and no lie lasts forever.
I am not Igbo. But I am not blind, because I saw the same system forgive terrorists, reward murderers, and parade thieves as ministers. But the man who shouts about freedom, he gets prison. The man who demands equity, he gets trial, the tribe that buried its future in shallow graves, they get mocked, monitored, and ignored.
If Justice Were a Language, the Igbos Would Be Fluent.
Malcolm x
