When the Country Feels Heavy
By Agbeze Ireke Kalu Onuma, AI-KO
Let me tell you about Mama Bose from Oyingbo market. Last month, she went to buy a bag of rice with money that would have bought two bags last year. She came home with half a bag, looked at her four children, and sat down to cry. Then she got up, shared the rice into smaller portions, and said, “This too will pass.”
That is not denial. That is the kind of hope we are talking about.
We cannot pretend anymore. Prices keep rising. The naira keeps falling. Services that should work – light, fuel, roads – do not. You go to bed counting losses and wake up to new ones. It is easy to feel stunned, angry, or just numb.
But beneath the shock, something stubborn lives. We are alive. We breathe. We keep going. That small, ordinary persistence – refusing to be erased – is where this story begins.
Look Clearly, Then Refuse to Be Paralyzed
First, see the truth. Say it out loud: things are hard. Many are hurting. Systems are weak. Naming the problem is not pessimism. It is the first step toward any real change.
But seeing clearly must not end in despair. Two traps to avoid:
· The trap of permanent defeat – where every setback proves nothing can change.
· The trap of false comfort – where we pretend everything is fine and do nothing.
Between them lies a third way: honest seeing plus steady action.
A young man in Aba, Chidi, lost his office job. Instead of waiting, he started repairing generators in his compound. He continues to learn and upgrade his knowledge from YouTube, bought spare parts on credit, and now six neighbors bring him work. He still struggles. But he moves. That is the third way.
Why Hope Is Not Wishful Thinking
Hope is not a blind wish. Hope is a decision to keep working toward a better day even when the path is unclear. Hope asks: what can I do now? It asks: who can I help today?
A short line that has helped many: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Stillness reminds you that panic is not the only response. In the quiet, we can think, plan, and act.
Hope grows when we act. Small acts add up:
· Helping a neighbor
· Sharing a meal
· Teaching a child
· Fixing a small problem at work
These do not solve everything at once. But they change the shape of a life and, slowly, the shape of a community.
The Defiant Act of Breathing
In unbelievable times, pointing to “breath” as a reason for hope might sound like naive positivity. It is not.
Recognizing your breath is the ultimate grounding. It is the raw material of potential. As long as air fills your lungs and a pulse beats in your chest, the story is not over.
Think of Funke in Lagos. During lockdown, her small catering business collapsed. She sat in her one-room apartment, feeling the walls close in. Then she started breathing – slowly, deliberately. That breath became a prayer. That prayer became a plan. Today, she sells meals on WhatsApp to office workers. She is not rich. She is alive. And alive means possible.
To hold onto hope in these times is not blindness. It is rebellion. It is looking at the mounting pressure and deciding that your internal flame will not be snuffed out by external winds.
The Wheel Always Turns
There is profound comfort in the study of time. No winter lasts forever. No night is endless. No crisis is eternal.
Things do turn. But a wheel turns because something pushes it. A tide turns because the moon calls it. A nation turns because the people inside it refuse to let darkness have the final word.
Remember the story of the old woman in Makurdi who lost her farm to flooding. She picked up the pieces, dried her seeds, and planted again. Her neighbors asked, “Mama, why?” She said, “I have outlived three floods. The land always gives again.”
The pressure that threatens to crush you is the same pressure that creates diamonds. The most profound growth never happens in times of ease. It is forged in the very fire we are walking through right now.
Inner Work That Makes Outer Action Possible
When the country feels heavy, your inner life matters. If your heart is restless, your actions scatter. If your mind is full of fear, you miss simple chances to help.
Here are simple practices that steady many Nigerians I know:
· Name one worry each morning. Write it down. Seeing it makes it smaller.
· Choose one small, kind action each day. A call, a message, a small gift, a practical favor.
· Keep a short ritual of silence or prayer. Even five minutes returns you to clarity.
· Walk without your phone. Movement clears the mind. One friend in Port Harcourt walks to the waterfront every evening just to watch the river. She says it reminds her that life flows on.
These are not magic. They are habits that keep you able to act when action is needed.
Practical Steps You Can Take Today
You do not need a grand revolution to make a difference. Start with what is near.
Help one person this week. A neighbor, a friend, a stranger. Small help matters.
Share reliable information. Food distribution, clinic hours, a job opening – pass it on.
Support local enterprise. Buy from small vendors. A small purchase can keep a family afloat.
Volunteer time or skills. Teach, repair, organize, or just listen. A young man in Ibadan spends Saturdays teaching free coding to secondary school leavers. Three have found remote work.
Protect your peace. Limit news that leaves you anxious without action. Replace scrolling with a walk, a devotional, or a call to someone you love.
Each step is small. Each step is real. Taken together, they change how you live and how others live near you.
Community, Imagination, and the Long View
Change needs imagination. It needs people who can picture a different future and take first steps toward it. That imagination lives in markets, churches, mosques, schools, and homes.
Ask yourself: what small idea could improve my street, my market, my school? Who else cares about that idea? Start a conversation. Build a small team. Test one simple change. Learn. Try again.
In Enugu, a group of neighbors pooled money to buy a small solar panel. They charge phones for a small fee. That fee buys more panels. Now six streets have light at night. That did not come from government. It came from people refusing to wait.
History shows that slow, steady work – repairing a road, teaching a class, organizing a clinic – adds up. It does not always make headlines, but it changes lives.
A Few Words to Hold On To
· See clearly. Name the problem without shrinking.
· Act simply. Small, steady beats grand plans that never start.
· Protect your inner life. Rest, write, walk, pray, be still. These keep you able to help.
· Build with others. Community is the engine of lasting change.
· Keep hope practical. Hope is a habit of doing what you can, today.
Thomas à Kempis wrote: “Without the Way there is no going; without the Truth there is no knowing; without the Life there is no living.” Direction, clarity, and life matter together.
Closing: A Gentle and Urgent Call
We cannot pretend the hard things are not happening. We also cannot let them steal our ability to act.
If you are reading this and you feel the weight, do one small thing today. Send a message. Buy a meal for someone. Walk to clear your head. Teach a child a small skill. Join a neighbor in a small repair.
The country will not change overnight. But the country is made of people – people who feed each other, teach each other, and hold each other up. If each of us chooses one small, steady act of care, the sum of those acts will be a force for change.
You have survived every single bad day you have ever faced. Every single one. The score is 100% survival.
Hold the truth in one hand and hope in the other. See clearly. Act kindly. Keep breathing.
The wheel is turning. The dawn is waiting. And because you are still here, everything is still possible.
– Inspired by the resilience of Nigerians everywhere, and by the reflections of others who refuse to look away.
