Do Nigerians truly hate Nigerians?

FOLA OJO FROM PUNCH

For over six decades, the soles of my feet have walked this terra firma. I have seen and heard a lot. As a young man in my Odo-Ona, Ibadan neighbourhood where I was born, I saw real love in its glowing form, and sincere affection in its fabulous fashion. Muslims and Christians were inseparable Siamese twins. There were cross-celebrations of religious festivals held in churches, mosques, public squares, and individual homes. We celebrated with each other, and celebrated together. Wedges of ethnic schism didn’t make easy drives and slithering passages because there weren’t cracks on the walls of ‘Nigerianness’ that welded us together. It was hard to separate Muslims from Christians. A beautiful time of life in Nigeria.

I remember Dominic and Ambrose who lived across the other side of Araromi. They were from some village in the old Eastern Region. Frequently, the two brothers stopped by my house for free pounded yam and egusi soup that the caring hands of my mother had cooked for her children to eat. In the eyes of my Yoruba mother, Ambrose and Dominic were her children too. And don’t forget that Ambrose and Dominic were Igbo. We called their dad ‘Baba Ambrose.’ Occasionally, he swung by during our 9pm prayer time held in my dad’s living room. He spoke tattered Yoruba. But he spoke and we heard every word he said from his unbiased heart. Where I grew up, it didn’t matter where anybody came from. We were all Nigerians.

I didn’t know the difference between Yoruba and non-Yoruba until much later in life. I was eight years old when suddenly the volcano from the belly of the beast of war erupted. It lasted 30-months. Millions of people were slaughtered. That was the consequence of hate and ethnic struggles for domination and power. Ever since, Nigeria has not been the same. Nigeria may never be the same except something trumps this present hate.

Hate is an emotional feeling of intense and unbridled hostility and aversion. It comes from fear, anger, or a sense of hurt and harm. When you sense a belligerent gang-up to heist what is yours, you defend yourself and stave off the aggressors. When you have an idea that you are being deliberately denied access to certain things and positions because of where you come from; you push back hard. We have all felt the phenomena of the emotion at one point or the other in our lives.

During and after the recently-concluded elections, images of hate were everywhere. The hoo-hah of virulent vitriols of division was clangorous and heard loud around the world. Ethnic affection was a rare find. Your name instantly branded you as a friend or an enemy in certain circles. Holy men of God also joined in the hate-carnival. They soiled their tongues with unholy hateful diatribes just because they must hate a people to be loved and loving. Hate spewed by many brewed up more hate in the hearts and minds of recipients of fireballs of hate who hated being boldly and publicly hated and spoken ill about.