There is something undeniably special about being Nigerian.
It is in the way our cultures survive across generations, in the languages spoken from one region to another, in the colours of our traditional attire, in the rhythm of our music and in the food that can turn an ordinary gathering into a celebration. From jollof rice and pounded yam to suya, moi moi, nkwobi and the countless dishes that represent our different ethnic communities, food remains one of the ways we tell the Nigerian story.
It is also in our entertainment. Nigerian music has travelled far beyond our borders, with Afrobeats becoming one of the countrys most recognisable cultural exports. Nollywood has built an enormous audience at home and abroad, while Nigerian comedians, writers, fashion designers, content creators and other creatives continue to find ways to put the country on the global stage.
Our sporting history tells another part of the story. From the Super Eagles and Super Falcons to Nigerian athletes in athletics, boxing, basketball and other sports, Nigerians have repeatedly demonstrated that talent can emerge even when the structures supporting that talent are inadequate.
Then there is the Nigerian spirit.
We are a people who have learned how to survive difficult circumstances. We find a way when there appears to be no way. We build businesses from almost nothing, travel thousands of kilometres in search of opportunity, work multiple jobs to provide for our families and continue to dream even when reality gives us very little reason to.
That doggedness is one of our greatest strengths.
But on a day like this, celebrating Nigeria cannot mean ignoring the questions that have followed us for decades.
Nigeria gained independence on October 1, 1960. Sixty-six years later, we must be honest enough to confront a difficult question: how much of the promise of independence have we actually fulfilled?
There have certainly been achievements. Nigeria has changed considerably since 1960. We have expanded our educational institutions, developed a thriving private sector, experienced a telecommunications revolution, produced globally recognised creative talent and built a generation of entrepreneurs who operate businesses that reach audiences beyond the country.
However, progress should not only be measured by what a country has produced at its highest level. It should also be measured by the quality of life available to the ordinary citizen.
And this is where our story becomes considerably more complicated.
One of the greatest problems Nigeria has faced is corruption. It has gone beyond being an occasional act of dishonesty by an individual and, in many cases, has become deeply connected to the way institutions function and public resources are managed.
Money meant for public projects can disappear. Contracts can be inflated. Public positions can sometimes become opportunities for personal enrichment rather than avenues for service. Resources that should improve the lives of citizens can be diverted, mismanaged or wasted.
The consequences are visible everywhere.
A country can have enormous human and natural resources and still struggle to provide basic services when those resources are not managed responsibly.
This brings us to another painful reality: we have not invested enough in ourselves.
For a country to develop sustainably, it must invest in its people. Education, healthcare, infrastructure, research, technology, agriculture and human capital cannot be treated as secondary priorities.
Yet, across the country, Nigerians continue to encounter schools that require serious attention, healthcare facilities struggling with inadequate resources, roads that deteriorate faster than they are repaired and public infrastructure that often fails to meet the needs of a growing population.
Electricity remains another longstanding challenge. Businesses have had to develop survival strategies around unreliable power supply, while ordinary Nigerians continue to spend money generating the electricity that should form part of the basic infrastructure of a functioning economy.
The irony is difficult to ignore.
Nigeria has some of the brightest people in the world, yet many Nigerians leave the country because they believe their potential can be better realised elsewhere.
Our doctors, nurses, engineers, academics, technology professionals, creatives and other skilled workers contribute significantly to societies outside Nigeria. Their achievements demonstrate what Nigerians are capable of when they have access to functional systems, opportunities and supportive institutions.
This should force us to confront an uncomfortable question: what would Nigeria look like if we created an environment where more of our people could realise that same potential at home?
Perhaps one of the most painful failures has been our inability to adequately protect human life.
The security situation across different parts of the country has created a disturbing familiarity with violence. Kidnapping, terrorism, banditry, communal violence and other forms of insecurity have left families grieving and communities traumatised.
But beyond the statistics and headlines is something even more troubling.
We appear to be becoming increasingly accustomed to death.
Another attack happens. Another family loses someone. Another community is displaced. Another person disappears. For a brief moment, there is outrage. Then another story takes its place.
The death of a Nigerian should never become ordinary.
Every person lost represents someones child, parent, sibling, friend or spouse. Every life has a story attached to it. When citizens begin to regard the death of another Nigerian as simply another headline, something fundamental has gone wrong with our collective sense of humanity.
And this is where our Independence Day reflection must become more personal.
We often speak about what the government should do, and there is good reason to demand accountability from those entrusted with public responsibility. But citizens also have responsibilities.
A nation is not built by government alone.
Corruption does not exist only in government offices. It can also appear when citizens pay bribes to bypass processes, cheat because they believe everyone else is doing it, evade responsibilities, destroy public property or use connections to obtain advantages that should be available through a fair system.
We cannot demand accountability from those in power while refusing to practise accountability in our own spaces.
We cannot complain about dishonesty in public institutions while celebrating dishonesty when it benefits us personally.
We cannot demand a better Nigeria while treating the things that belong to all of us as though they belong to nobody.
This does not absolve government or public officials of responsibility. Those entrusted with public power have a particularly important obligation to protect public resources and serve citizens. But nation-building ultimately requires a culture in which both leaders and citizens recognise that the country belongs to all of us.
Nigerias greatest tragedy may not be a lack of potential.
It may be our inability to consistently transform that potential into functioning systems.
We have oil. We have agricultural land. We have a huge population. We have talented young people. We have extraordinary cultural diversity. We have creative industries that continue to gain international attention. We have entrepreneurs building businesses in difficult circumstances.
Yet potential alone cannot build a nation.
Potential must be supported by institutions. Talent must be supported by opportunity. Natural resources must be supported by responsible management. Democracy must be supported by informed citizens and accountable leadership.
As another Independence Day arrives, perhaps we need to move beyond asking whether Nigeria is great and begin asking what we are doing to make that greatness visible in the daily lives of ordinary Nigerians.
Independence should mean more than remembering the day the Union Jack was lowered. It should mean having the freedom to live safely, receive quality education, access healthcare, build a business, find meaningful work and believe that hard work can produce a decent future.
That is the Nigeria many citizens still hope to see.
And the responsibility for that Nigeria belongs to all of us.
As elections approach, Nigerians have the opportunity to participate in choosing their representatives. That responsibility should be approached carefully, with attention to candidates records, policies, qualifications, public conduct and plans for addressing the countrys challenges. Voting should be an informed civic decision, not simply a reaction to ethnicity, religion, party loyalty, money or social media popularity.
But our responsibility cannot end at the ballot box.
We must demand accountability after elections. We must obey laws even when nobody is watching. We must reject corruption even when it benefits us. We must protect public property. We must hold leaders accountable without abandoning our own responsibilities as citizens.
Change cannot remain a slogan that we repeat every four years.
It has to become a culture.
Nigeria at 66 is a country of extraordinary contradictions. We are deeply talented but often poorly organised. We are remarkably resilient but frequently forced to use that resilience to survive conditions that should have been improved. We are globally celebrated for our creativity while still struggling to build the systems that can sustain that creativity.
So, on this Independence Day, let us celebrate the Nigeria that exists while being honest about the Nigeria that ought to exist.
Let us celebrate our food, our cultures, our music, our films, our athletes, our entrepreneurs and the undying spirit of our people. But let us also remember the Nigerians who have lost their lives to insecurity, the families struggling with economic hardship, the children learning in inadequate conditions and the millions still waiting for the opportunities that their country should provide.
The Nigeria we want will not be created by hope alone.
It will require responsible leadership, active citizenship, institutional reform and millions of ordinary Nigerians choosing to do the right thing even when doing the wrong thing appears easier.
Sixty-six years after independence, the question is no longer simply whether Nigeria has potential. We know that it does. The question is whether we are finally prepared to turn that potential into progress.
Happy Independence Day, Nigeria.
May the next chapter of our story be written not only by those who govern us, but by all of us who call this country home.