From Dancing While Nigeria Drowns
Every few years, when the noise gets too loud and the scandals too uncontainable, Nigeria’s ruling class reaches into its bag of tricks and pulls out the ultimate sedative: “Restructuring.” A word so vague, so elastic, it means everything and nothing.
A political paracetamol prescribed for a terminal illness.
They whisper it on panels. They debate it on live TV. They sprinkle it into manifestos like holy water on corruption. But ask them what it really means? They stammer. They stall. They say things like: “We must engage all stakeholders,” or “It’s a journey, not a destination.”
Translation: We’re not doing jack.
But let’s be honest—for once. Restructuring, in its truest form, is not grammar. It is not a memo or a media tour. It is war. Not of bullets, but of interests. It is a declaration that the status quo has failed and must be dismantled before it devours us all.
To restructure Nigeria is to stop pretending.
To stop pretending that a country where oil flows from the creeks of the Niger Delta but builds only mansions in Maitama is sustainable.
To stop pretending that we can run a centralized government in a land where every tribe believes it was created first.
To stop pretending that Abuja knows best—when Abuja has been nothing but a cartel in glass towers, sucking life from the periphery.
Restructuring means power must go back to the people. Not to the godfathers. Not to the cousins of party chairmen. But to the communities who know what they need and have waited too long to be told what they deserve.
It means the states must stop being beggars and start being builders.
It means Lagos should keep its ports. Kano should fund its industries. Enugu should tax its coal. Bayelsa should own its oil—and if it mismanages it, let its people remove the thief without waiting for some panel in Abuja to investigate in slow motion.
But of course, that terrifies the ruling class.
Because what they call “national unity” is really centralized looting.
What they call “federal character” is really quota for incompetence.
What they call “one Nigeria” is really one ATM, located in Abuja, open 24/7 to elite PINs.
Read also: National Cake Or National Scam?—Part 11
So they distract us with committee reports that never get implemented. They debate endlessly while people die needlessly. They fund more conferences than clinics. More town halls than train stations. More roundtables than real reforms.
And the people? Many have stopped asking.
Some are numbed by hunger. Others are hypnotized by tribe. A few are sedated by faith—praying for miracles while their country burns. The rest are busy with visa applications, hoping to escape before the next fuel hike or mass abduction.
But not all hope is lost.
Because even in satire, there is fire. Even in mockery, a message. If you’ve read these twelve dispatches and felt something—anger, shame, clarity—then you are not beyond saving. If you’ve laughed through the tears and seen the rot for what it is, then perhaps, somewhere in your chest, a citizen is still alive.
Restructuring must begin with truth.
The truth that the center cannot hold—not because of any Yeatsian prophecy, but because it was never designed to. It was stitched together by colonial greed, tightened by military decree, and now barely held by hypocrisy.
If we do not redesign this nation, it will redesign us. Into refugees. Into orphans of hope. Into a country whose anthem is nostalgia.
So let the last satire be a final warning.
Let it be said that when Nigeria stood on the edge of collapse, some of us shouted—not whispered. We danced, yes. But we danced with knives of irony. We sang, yes. But we sang with fire in our throats. We laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was the only thing left between madness and memory.
This is the end of the series. But maybe the beginning of something else.
Not hashtags. Not fake unity. Not designer nationalism.
But restructuring—real, raw, and radical.
Or nothing at all.
Professor MarkAnthony Ujunwa Nze is a distinguished Nigerian-born investigative journalist, public intellectual, and global governance analyst, whose work spans critical intersections of media, law, and policy. His expertise extends across strategic management, leadership, and international business law, where he brings a nuanced understanding of institutional dynamics, cross-border legal frameworks, and executive decision-making in complex global environments.
Currently based in New York, Professor Nze serves as a full tenured professor at the New York Centre for Advanced Research. There, he spearheads interdisciplinary research at the forefront of governance innovation, corporate strategy, and geopolitical risk. Widely respected for his intellectual rigor and principled advocacy, he remains a vital voice in shaping ethical leadership and sustainable governance across emerging and established democracies.