I have posted a letter which appeared in Thisday newspaper on 9 July 2009 in the culture section. The link is below.

https://www.nairaland.com/nigeria/topic-294872.0.html#msg4165316

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Have a great weekend

Sorry MrCrackles, I didn't want to repost the letter as that my violate forum rules. But here it is for everyone else

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I am hungry, Please re-brand me by Onyeka Minista, Lagos Nigeria

I am Nigeria. I have millions of acres of arable land and billions of cubic litres of water, but I cannot feed myself. So I spend $1 billion to import rice and another $2 billion to import milk. I produce rice, but don't eat it. I have 60 million cattle but no milk. I am hungry please re-brand me.

I drive the latest cars in the world but have no roads. I loose family and friends everyday on roads for which funds have been looted. I loose my young, my old and my most brainy and productive people to pot-holes, craters and crevasses they travel everyday. I am in permanent morning, please re-brand me.

I wanted change so I stood all day long to cast my vote. But even before I could vote, the results had been announced. When I dare to speak out, silence was enthroned by bullets. My rulers are my oppressors, and my policemen are my terrors. I am ruled by men in mufti, but I am not a democracy. I have no verve, no vote, no voice, please re-brand me.

I have 50 million youths with no jobs, no present and no future. So my sons in the North have become street urchins and his brothers in the South have become militants. My nephews die of thirst in the Sahara and his cousins drown in the waters of the Mediterranean. My daughters work the streets of Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt, while her sisters parade the streets of Rome and Amsterdam. I am inconsolable, please re-brand me.

I can produce anything, but import everything. So my toothpick is made in China; my toothpaste is made in South Africa; my salt is made in Ghana; my butter is made in Ireland; my milk is made in Holland; my shoe is made in Italy; my vegetable oil is made in Malaysia; my biscuit is made in Indonesia; my chocolate is made in Turkey and my table water made in France. My taste is far-flung and foreign, please re-brand me.

But then why can I not simply be me, without being re-branded? Or does my complexion cloud the colour of my character? Does my location limit the length of my liberty? Does the spirit of my conviction shackle my soul? Does my mien maim the mine of my mind? And is this life worth re-branding? I am not yet born, please re-brand me.

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