The Story of Jesus Christ and Nigeria, By Sunny Agboju

 

My Sunny Agboju

Once upon a time, there lived Jesus Christ, born in Bethlehem of Judea, so goes the story. Fast forward. He grew up doing good and living by example. So exemplary was his lifestyle that the common-man, the dregs of the earth, the sick and the poor, were his favourite. He not only from amongst them selected his twelve most intimate, inner circle, but also spent over 90 per cent of his time with them – preaching, teaching, healing, loving. In fact, so much was he in love with them that we’re told he died to “wash away” the sins of all men. But that’s not the purview of this short discourse. My purpose is to draw a parallel between the man Jesus and our dear nation, Nigeria.

Despite living amongst them all his life, despite teaching and healing them, despite feeding and defending them against the high and the mighty, despite owning nothing and showing that he was from amongst them, when the chips were down, when it was time to choose who to release between the murderer and Jesus Christ, the selfsame people for whom he had sacrificed all of the above, screamed “Crucify him, Crucify him.” And, as we say in local parlance, “like play, like play”, the murderer was released to roam free while Jesus was wounded and disgraced, starved and demeaned, and nailed to the cross until he died.

Those who are familiar with this story may already guess my trajectory. But that’s not where I’m going. What I’m doing is to draw analogy and attention to the reasons for choosing a murderer and dangerous member of the society over a benevolent altruist who went about doing nothing but good.

You will recall that it wasn’t only the masses that favoured that Jesus be crucified. Even his “guy”, his favourite confidant, his known next-in-command, Peter the Rock, denied him three times during his most trying moments. Why?

The answer to this important question lies in the four letter-word – FEAR. Recall that the Israelites were then colonized by Rome, as represented by Herod, the Roman King. Fear ruled the land like a plague. Truth couldn’t be upheld freely without negative repercussions. So the people opted to choose the freedom of a murderer over that of the good man.

There’s no gainsaying the fact that fear rules Nigeria today. Be not deceived by the word “democracy” touted and mouthed by all and sundry. Be not deceived by the fact that we have pretentious elections every four years. Be not deceived by the campaigns and the seeming structure of presidency, legislature and the judiciary. Be not deceived by the so-called freedom of speech and the existence of that green-coloured book called the constitution. All that is an imitation of the real, but not the real. In actuality, here is a huge prison codenamed Nigeria. Seek not the shackles around our legs, because you’ll find none. Seek not the high walls around the country because you’ll find none. But clearly, without doubts, it’s surely one huge prison, albeit without fence.

Look around you for the Slavemasters and you’ll find them – the ruling elite. Look around you for the prison warders and you’ll find them – the institutions and instruments of control and coercion. Look around you for the prison cells and you’ll find them – the terrible, shameful, embarrassing, state of our infrastructure and habitations.

The Slavemasters have so subjugated the people that they can afford to brazenly earmark N46B for 200 million Nigerians in the 2023 annual budget while earmarking N125B for themselves (465 legislatures).

The Slavemasters have brought the people to their tired knees hence they could so brazenly, every four years, smugly flaunt food items and money and watch the people scramble and fight for them, irresistibly.

So economically exhausted and mentally fatigued are the people that they’ll accept anything they’re told, for their medulla oblongata can no longer recognize black from white.

Most painful of all is that the people’s mindset has been torched by the fire of mental and psychological torture that they now, actively and ingloriously, fight and kill themselves to please their Slavemasters.

I watch painfully, how young, educated, able-bodied men and women, clamour to install thieving, old and sick ancestors on the throne that rightly belongs to them (the young), knowing full well that the Slavemasters themselves have impoverished them and their generations unborn.

Meanwhile, some fifty or so years ago, young men and women like them had sat on those thrones. Meanwhile, around the world today, young men and women are being installed on the exalted thrones to rule and reign over greater and more powerful economies. But not in Nigeria.

I do not blame our young men and women for their ready acquiescence and easy cuddle with the Slavemasters. I do not blame our young men and women for whoever they choose to vote for. I do not blame even the Slavemasters for their gluttonous thefts, their emboldened arrogance of entitlements, and their willful display of mind-boggling, ill-gotten wealth. My blame is to the collective, to all of us, for the unacceptable slumber that careless living bestowed us, and which, inadvertently, has brought us to where we are today.

For the very few discerning and conscious Nigerians, this is the time to not sit on the fence. This is the time to sensitize and educate your fellow countrymen and women. This is the time to wake as many people up as you possibly can. This is the time to adorn your armour of knowing and deploy the wisdom of freedom to the benefit of your fellow Nigerian citizens.

Personally, I’m on the self-appointed mission to salvage the situation in my own way within my own circle of influence. I have succeeded only but little. I have not given up, and I will not give up. My joy to continue is in the fact that I have succeeded in opening the eyes of not a few young Nigerians to their situation of slavery. And when once those eyes open and they behold the light, their joyful tears and appreciative verve are enough to stimulate and inspire me to go open more eyes.

And that’s what I recommend to every Nigerian who has successfully emancipated himself from the mental and economic shackles of our clime – to go out there and help recover the minds of whoever they can. But I must warn you, as I’ve come to realize, that you can only free a slave who knows that he’s a slave, because a slave who thinks he’s free can never be freed.