A perspective from the diaspora, where distance provides a painful clarity.
It’s a phrase coined by the legendary Fela Kuti, and decades later, it remains the most accurate diagnosis of the Nigerian condition: we are a nation of people who have mastered the art of “suffering and smiling.” We endure the unbearable with a shrug and a joke, then turn our fury not on those who create the conditions for our suffering, but on those who dare to speak the inconvenient truth about it.
Living abroad, you gain a painful clarity. You see other nations, with far fewer natural gifts, function with a basic social contract between the government and the governed. You then look home and see a paradox so stark it defies logic: a country blessed with abundant oil, fertile land, and brilliant minds, yet where citizens import fuel, struggle to afford food, and are forced to flee the very homeland they love.
The Uncomfortable Truth: It’s Not a “Religious War,” But the Killing is Real
The latest international spotlight on Nigeria, sparked by figures like Donald Trump, reduces our complex agony to a simplistic narrative. The claim of a one-sided “Christian genocide” is a dangerous oversimplification. The reality, as always with Nigeria, is more nuanced and therefore more tragic.
The violence is not a straightforward religious war. Boko Haram, a group despised by both Muslims and Christians, has killed thousands of Muslims whom it deems insufficiently pious. Banditry in the north often pits Fulani herders against Hausa communities, both of whom are predominantly Muslim. To frame this purely as Muslims killing Christians is propaganda that ignores these facts and deepens our divisions.
However, we must not let this nuance become a tool to dismiss the very real and targeted violence that does occur. Civil society groups like Intersociety report staggering numbers of Christian deaths, estimating over 7,000 killed in the first 220 days of 2025 alone. These are not just numbers; they are our brothers, sisters, and children. The government’s response, that this is merely a continuation of decades-old farmer-herder clashes over resources, rings hollow to those burying their loved ones after attacks on their churches and communities.
The table below summarizes the conflicting narratives, both of which contain elements of our painful reality:
The Unanswered Questions
The Nigerian Government Conflicts are driven by resource competition, crime, and terrorism, not religious persecution. The security apparatus, led by Christians and Muslims, is united against these threats. Why do the patterns of violence so often align with religious and ethnic identities? If it’s only about resources, why the systematic burning of churches and the mass abduction of Christians from their communities?
International & Local Watchdogs There is a campaign of religiously-motivated violence aimed at obliterating Christian communities, enabled by a government that fails to protect them and rarely brings perpetrators to justice. Does this narrative fully account for the thousands of Muslim victims of the same terrorist groups? Does it acknowledge that our security chiefs are predominantly Christian?
This is the Nigerian paradox: two truths can coexist. It can be true that the conflict is complex, and that a disproportionate burden of the violence is being borne by one segment of our population. Yet, when anyone raises this, we go into attack mode.
The Economic Paradox: Why Are We So Rich, Yet So Poor?
We sit on a wealth of natural resources, yet we live in a state of perpetual scarcity. This is the “Paradox Effect” in action, where opposite realities coexist to create a bewildering crisis.
· The Resource Curse: We have crude oil, yet we import refined fuel. We have four refineries fully staffed, but refine nothing. We have fertile land, yet we can barely afford food.
The Spiritual Paradox: Our country is filled with churches and mosques, yet corruption and criminality persist unabated.
· The Security-Economy Nexus: Insecurity deters the investment needed to create economic opportunities that would reduce insecurity. It is a vicious, self-fulfilling prophecy.
We see the elite, the ones who benefit from the current system, order the police to arrest and release people at will. They are the reason our refineries lie dormant and our fuel comes from abroad. And when we are asked, “What value have you derived from your oil?” we have no answer, only rage at the one asking the question.
Breaking the Cycle: From “Suffering and Smiling” to Demanding Change
Fela Kuti used his music as a weapon against post-colonial corruption and the docility of the masses. His message is more relevant today than ever. Our resilience is not a virtue when it becomes a blanket that smothers our righteous anger.
So, why do we attack those who speak the truth, like UK Minister Kemi Badenoch, instead of the leaders who fail us?
It is because the truth is inconvenient. It is easier to be labelled a “proud Nigerian” defending our soil from external criticism than to be the “unpatriotic citizen” confronting the internal rot. We are running interference for our own oppressors.
We must stop. We must, as a people, agree on a few fundamental truths:
1. A Life Lost is a Life Lost: The value of a human life does not depend on their faith. The killing of any Nigerian- Christian or Muslim—is an abomination. We must reject the politicization of our grief and unite in our demand for security for all.
2. Our Anger is Misdirected: Our fury should be laser-focused on the terrorists slaughtering our people, the corrupt politicians looting our treasury, and the system that allows both to thrive. Defending Nigeria’s honour on social media does not put food on the table or stop bullets.
3. Embrace the Complexity: We must resist the simplistic stories pushed by both foreign media and our own tribal and religious champions. The solution requires tackling the root causes: a failed social contract, economic injustice, and a security apparatus in need of holistic reform.
The world is watching, not with pity, but with bewilderment. They see a giant, asleep on its feet, “suffering and smiling” as its limbs are picked off one by one. It is time to wake up. It is time to replace the smile with a demand, and the suffering with a relentless, unified cry for the Nigeria we deserve.
What are your thoughts on Nigeria’s paradoxes? Please share your insights, and let’s continue this crucial conversation.