“The basis of every civilisation is wealth – wealth to provide the background of leisure, which in turn is the basis of culture in a commercial world,” John Buchan
The old and historical Exodus was out of Egypt to the Promised Land. It was the movement of a people away from bondage, uncertainty and oppression towards security, hope, dignity and divine fulfilment. It occurred several thousand years ago, under the command and protection of Almighty God, and remains one of the most enduring narratives in human history.
Today, however, a strange and revealing reversal appears to be taking place, one not dictated by God but by despair. There is a new kind of exodus, not out of Egypt, but into it. Nigerians, weary of hardship, unemployment, insecurity, inflation and diminishing hope, are increasingly looking beyond their country in search of better prospects. Some travel to Europe, North America and the Gulf. Others seek opportunities in neighbouring African countries.
More remarkably, some Nigerians now look to Egypt itself as a place of work, trade, education, leisure, medical care and, in some cases, a more settled existence. This development deserves serious reflection. Many of those moving to Egypt are not necessarily the destitute fleeing immediate hardship.
They are comparatively well-to-do Nigerians who have become weary of uncertainty at home and are seeking a more predictable environment in that North African country. They can afford visas, airfares and accommodation, however costly these may be. They go to Cairo for medical treatment they believe is more accessible or reliable than what is available at home. They send their children and wards to schools they consider better organised. Some invest in real estate or purchase houses so that they may live with greater comfort, order and dignity away from the frustrations and disappointments of their own country.
There is something deeply sobering in this. Egypt, for all its antiquity and grandeur, is geographically a difficult country. Much of its territory is desert. Its civilisation has depended historically on the River Nile, that narrow but mighty artery of life which has sustained Egyptian society for thousands of years. Without the Nile, Egypt would have been little more than an expanse of sand, rock and barren land.
Yet Egypt learned, over centuries, to organise life around its limitations. Through irrigation, administration, planning, education and collective effort, it became one of the great granaries of the ancient world. In the Roman era, Egypt was an important source of grain for Rome. Its historic achievement was not the product of effortless abundance. It arose from human organisation, national seriousness and an ability to turn limitation into opportunity.
Nigeria, by contrast, has been endowed by Providence in almost every conceivable way. We possess vast stretches of arable land, rivers, rainfall, forests, livestock, fisheries, minerals and a youthful population of extraordinary energy. We have climatic zones capable of supporting diverse agricultural production. We can grow all types of food that can tolerate our climate in all parts of the country. We have in abundance water, land, people, markets, resources and geographical advantages which many nations can only envy.
Yet, despite these blessings, millions of Nigerians struggle to feed themselves adequately. Farmers abandon their fields because of insecurity or incapacity. Young people leave villages, towns and cities in droves because they see no viable future at home. Families sell property to finance journeys abroad. Graduates wander from office to office in search of employment. Skilled professionals depart in large numbers, carrying with them knowledge, talent and enterprise which Nigeria urgently needs and has invested in developing.
The tragedy is not merely that Nigerians are leaving. Migration is as old as humanity itself, and there is nothing inherently wrong with seeking education, experience, trade or opportunity abroad. A confident nation should encourage its citizens to acquire knowledge and connections wherever these may be found.
The tragedy is that many Nigerians now leave because they no longer believe their country can provide a dignified life, reward honest effort or protect their future. That is the true meaning of this new exodus. A nation becomes vulnerable when its citizens lose confidence not only in the government of the day but in the possibility of national renewal. When young people begin to believe that success can only be found elsewhere, and that their country is beyond redemption, the country loses not merely manpower but morale.
When farmers cannot farm safely, entrepreneurs cannot obtain credit, manufacturers cannot secure stable electricity, and graduates cannot find meaningful work, the nation begins to consume its own future. There is also an uncomfortable external dimension. Nigerians in South Africa and elsewhere on the continent have, at different times, been exposed to resentment, hostility and exclusion. Such mistreatment is wrong and cannot be justified.
No Nigerian should be attacked, intimidated or denied dignity merely because of nationality; nor should the conduct of some individuals be used to condemn an entire people. But these recurring frustrations should nevertheless force us to reflect. In several African societies, an exasperated question is sometimes heard: why are so many Nigerians compelled to leave a country so richly endowed, only to seek survival, opportunity and refuge elsewhere? Why can Nigeria not provide the economic security, public services and confidence that would enable its people to remain at home and build a better future?
That question is not answered by insulting Nigerians or by accepting the crude stereotypes often directed against them. Nigerians are among the most resilient, inventive and industrious people in the world. Wherever they go, they distinguish themselves in commerce, medicine, engineering, diplomacy, farming, culture, scholarship, sports, technology and public service. The Nigerian is not lacking in intelligence, courage or enterprise.
What has failed Nigerians too often is the structure of our politics, leadership, governance and national organisation. Countries do not become prosperous merely because they possess natural resources. History is full of examples of nations blessed with oil, minerals, fertile land and strategic location, yet crippled by poor governance, corruption, illegitimacy, conflict and institutional weakness.
Equally, there are countries with few natural advantages that have built prosperity through discipline, education, planning and a sense of collective purpose. The difference between success and failure is often not what a country possesses, but what it does with what it possesses. Nigeria has for too long treated abundance as though it were a substitute for responsibility. We assume that because our land is fertile, food will always be available.
We assume that because our population is large, prosperity will somehow emerge automatically, like mushrooms. We assume that because oil brought revenue in the past, it will continue to sustain us indefinitely. We assume that national problems can be managed through speeches, committees, emergency interventions, temporary palliatives, insults and combativeness.
But nations are not built by assumptions. They are built by hard and sustained work. They are built by strong, trustworthy and competent institutions. They are built by citizens who respect the law and leaders who understand that public office is a sacred trust. They are built when agriculture is treated not as a pastime for rural people, but as a strategic national enterprise. They are built when roads move food from farms to markets, irrigation schemes are maintained, storage facilities reduce waste, credit reaches productive hands, and insecurity is confronted with seriousness and determination.
Nigeria does not need to become another Egypt. Neither does Egypt need to become another Nigeria. Every country has its own history, geography, social character and peculiar difficulties. But Nigeria must learn the universal lesson that nations survive and prosper by converting limitations into strength and resources into production. We must begin to ask ourselves difficult questions.
Why should a country with so much cultivable land and water depend excessively on imported food? Why should farmers be driven relentlessly from their farms by violence and fear? Why should young Nigerians believe their greatest ambition is to escape Nigeria? Why should a nation of such enormous human capacity remain trapped in cycles of poverty, inflation, unemployment and despair? Why must our elites, leaders included, so often seek medical treatment and recuperation abroad?
These are not merely economic or political questions. They are questions of national dignity. A country that cannot provide food, medical treatment, safety, employment and hope for its citizens cannot expect them to remain emotionally attached to it. Patriotism cannot be sustained by slogans alone. National loyalty requires a reciprocal obligation. Citizens must obey the law, pay taxes, work honestly and contribute to society; while government must protect life, secure property, create opportunity and ensure that effort is rewarded.
The Nigerian people have endured too much. They have adjusted to hardship too often. They have been disappointed for too long. They have survived conditions that would have broken the spirit of many other societies.
But there is a limit to endurance. A people cannot forever be asked to sacrifice while seeing little evidence that their sacrifices are building a better country. The answer is not despair, self-immolation or self-condemnation. Nigeria has not exhausted its possibilities.
The country remains too large, too gifted and too important to be written off. But renewal will not come through sentiment alone. It requires a new seriousness in leadership and citizenship alike.
We must act with the seriousness that countries such as Egypt have shown in confronting their limitations.
We must restore agriculture as the foundation of food security and rural prosperity. We must secure the countryside. We must build roads, railways, storage systems and markets that connect producers to consumers. We must support industry, reward innovation, strengthen education and make public institutions work for the people rather than against them. We must provide reliable electricity across the country.
Above all, we must restore the belief that Nigeria is worth building. The most dangerous thing that can happen to any nation is not that its citizens travel abroad. It is that they cease to believe that their homeland is worth rescuing and can ever become a place of dignity, prosperity and fulfilment.
The original Exodus was a journey towards a Promised Land. Nigeria must ensure that it does not become a country from which its own people feel compelled to flee in search of one. Our task is clear: to make Nigeria once again a land of promise for Nigerians themselves. Once upon a time, the rallying slogan was: “To Keep Nigeria One Is a Task That Must Be Done.” Today, the greater and more urgent task is this: “To Make Nigeria Great Is a Task That Must Be Achieved.”
