The missing Nigerians in Tinubu’s Independence Day speech

Wednesday Column By Egena Sunday Ode

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The days are long gone when Nigerian citizens looked forward with nostalgia to Independence Day.

As school children in the 1980s in a rural community in Benue State, October 1 meant much more to us than the symbolism of freedom from colonial rule. As a matter of fact, we did not quite understand in detail what colonialism and its cessation meant.

For us, Independence Day celebration was, first and foremost, an opportunity to enjoy a school-free day and trek all the way—some 11 kilometres—to the local government headquarters for a match past.

It did not matter whether you were among those selected to represent your school in the match past, which seemed to us like a competition among schools—primary and secondary.

The excitement was in the journey itself, the crowd, the uniforms, the flags and the feeling that, somehow, this was a special day.

But as Nigerians of my generation grew older, October 1 steadily lost its euphoric essence.

The celebration diminished with every passing anniversary. It was either the government announcing a low-key celebration or, in some years, virtually no celebration at all, citing economic or security concerns.

In 2010, Nigeria’s golden anniversary offered a rare attempt to revive the grandeur of Independence Day.

The then President Goodluck Jonathan staged an elaborate celebration at Eagle Square in Abuja, featuring military and paramilitary performances and displays. The week preceding October 1 was loaded with activities, including dinners and lectures, while the streets of Abuja were decorated in green and white.

But the events of that October 1 provided a grim justification for those who had chosen to scale down Independence Day celebrations.

Terrorists struck close to Eagle Square, creating panic and putting dignitaries who had travelled from far and near to celebrate Nigeria’s golden anniversary on edge.

That effectively ended the era of elaborate Independence Day celebrations. What followed was largely a Change of Guard at the forecourt of the Presidential Villa, accompanied by extensive radio and television coverage.

Independence Day speeches and broadcasts, however, have flourished. They have become a ritual.

This year, President Bola Tinubu returned from his European holiday to perform that ritual. His broadcast was largely an attempt to reassure Nigerians that the country had turned a corner. He spoke extensively about economic reforms, growth, investment and his administration’s belief that Nigeria was moving towards prosperity.

There was nothing unusual about that.

Independence Day speeches are usually predictable. They are heavy on the chronicles of the nation’s journey from colonialism to political freedom. There are references to the sacrifices of the founding fathers, some policy announcements and, in more troubled times, warnings to insurgents, bandits and other enemies of the state.

But Tinubu’s broadcast was different in one important respect.

For a president addressing Nigerians on October 1, it was striking how little attention was paid to the immediate human consequences of insecurity. The President acknowledged insecurity and expressed gratitude to the armed forces and security services. But he did not specifically address Nigerians who were still in captivity.

That omission becomes difficult to ignore when placed against what was happening in Borno State.

As the President spoke of a Nigeria heading towards prosperity, 78 schoolchildren abducted from Mussa and Lassa communities in Borno State were still reported to be in captivity. Forty-two pupils were abducted from Mussa in May, while another 36 students and a teacher were abducted from Lassa in June. Their continued captivity had already generated appeals for urgent government action.

So, what did President Tinubu fail to tell Nigerians?

For me, this is the essential question.

I am not suggesting that the President should have abandoned the economic message of his broadcast.

Nigerians certainly need hope. They need to hear that the painful economic measures of the past three years are intended to produce a better future.

But there are moments when the immediate pain of citizens must take precedence over the optimism of government.

A mother whose child has been in captivity for months is not thinking about economic growth, investment or the promised age of prosperity. A father whose daughter disappeared from a classroom is not comforted by assurances about the Nigeria of tomorrow.

For such families, the only promised land that matters is the safe return of their children.

That was the missing element in the President’s address.

It was not merely a missing statistic. It was a missing human story.

The President could have told Nigerians what his government knew about the abducted children. He could have told the affected families what was being done to secure their release. He could have acknowledged their agony and assured them that their children had not been forgotten.

Even if operational security considerations made it impossible to disclose details of rescue operations, the families deserved to hear from the President.

Then, almost immediately after Independence Day, another grim reminder arrived. Twenty travellers, including prospective members of the National Youth Service Corps, were reportedly abducted while travelling, with their families desperately seeking their release.

The coincidence was painful.

Independence Day is supposed to remind citizens that they belong to a country that exists to protect their freedom, dignity and security. Yet, for many families, October 1 came and went with loved ones still in the custody of criminals.

Perhaps this is why the Independence Day ritual no longer carries the magic it once did.

As children, we trekked 11 kilometres simply to celebrate being Nigerians. We may not have understood colonialism, but we understood celebration. We understood flags. We understood uniforms. We understood that October 1 was different.

Today, many Nigerians understand independence differently.

They ask whether the country can protect them. They ask whether their children can go to school and return safely. They ask whether travellers can move from one city to another without disappearing into the forests. They ask whether, when their loved ones are abducted, the Nigerian state will remember them.

President Tinubu spoke extensively about the Nigeria of tomorrow.

But on October 1, some Nigerians needed him to speak about the Nigerians who are missing today.

That, for me, was the most consequential omission in an otherwise carefully constructed Independence Day address.