Sitting here in limbo

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The title of this piece borrows from the classic Jimmy Cliff song “Sitting in Limbo”, which seems strangely appropriate for the current Nigerian mood. Cliff, one of the great architects of reggae, passed away last Monday. His influence on global music is unquestionable, and Nigerians have long claimed him as one of their own. His 1975 tour of Nigeria may have ended in controversy after a dispute with a local promoter led to his arrest, but the episode did not dampen his affection for the country. He even immortalized the ordeal in “Have You Heard the News?” a reminder that Nigeria is part of his artistic journey. The news of his death travelled fast and struck many people deeply.

Ordinarily, the passing of a musical icon of his stature would have dominated the national conversation. Instead, his death was crowded out by a wave of grim news. The conviction of the IPOB leader Nnamdi Kanu for terrorism, which resulted in a life sentence, quickly became the major headline. At the same time, northern communities were dealing with yet another round of mass kidnappings of schoolchildren by terror groups and armed bandits. Each incident was competing for attention, and together they created a national atmosphere of tension and unease.

Kanu, who seeks a revival of the old Biafran state once championed by the late Emeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, insists that his agitation is rooted in claims of marginalization. According to him, Ndigbo have been sidelined in national affairs for too long and are merely sitting in limbo within the Nigerian structure. His followers echo this sense of political and economic exclusion. His trial and conviction, arriving at a moment when the country was already reeling under insecurity, amplified divisions and heated up the political environment.

All of this even overshadowed the embarrassment of Nigeria’s failure to qualify for the 2026 World Cup. The Super Eagles fought hard on the pitch, yet a series of administrative blunders and long standing inefficiencies in football management sealed their fate. Given how passionately Nigerians follow the sport, the disappointment should have been a major national topic. Instead, the nation simply added it to the list of unresolved frustrations. Once again, Nigeria will sit in limbo for another four years watching other countries shine on the world stage.

This feeling of being stuck is not limited to sports or separatist politics. Even the violent actors who torment the nation have begun to use the language of marginalization to justify their atrocities. Boko Haram fighters, armed bandits, and other criminal groups often claim that their communities have been left behind. They argue that their violence is a reaction to exclusion from opportunities and national development. This narrative is false. No society can accept murder, abduction, terror, and destruction as a form of protest. Whatever grievances exist, they do not justify the decision to wage war on innocent people.

Still, these claims resonate because many ordinary citizens genuinely feel ignored by the system. The core of the problem is the absence of good governance. For decades, leaders at every level have failed to manage our diversity or build institutions that inspire confidence. Nigeria is a complex federation with dozens of ethnicities, religions, and social identities. Yet the political structure we operate does not reflect this complexity. Instead, we copied the American presidential system wholesale without adapting it to our realities. The result is a centralised architecture that is often unable to accommodate local needs or regional aspirations.

Our electoral system also fuels endless friction. Every election triggers an intense battle for power and influence. As soon as one election ends, the next one begins to loom. Incumbent officials are constantly under pressure from rivals who lost out in the last contest. The focus shifts from governing to political survival. Public resources are diverted toward patronage, campaigns, and power maintenance. Corruption thrives in such conditions, and development inevitably suffers.

Nigeria cannot continue like this. The nation requires a serious review of its political foundation. Constitutional reform is long overdue. A restructured system that decentralizes power, respects cultural and regional differences, and allows communities greater control over their affairs would ease many of the tensions we keep recycling. A workable model must be inclusive, fair, and transparent. It must give all groups a sense of belonging and protect them from fears of domination by any ethnic or religious bloc.

If Nigeria is ever to move forward, it must stop pretending that the current structure can magically solve problems it continues to create. A new constitutional arrangement that reflects who we are today would be a major step toward healing old wounds and preventing new ones.

Until we confront this reality, the country will continue to drift from crisis to crisis. And like Jimmy Cliff sang decades ago, we will keep sitting in limbo, waiting for progress that never comes.

• Ayodeji is an author, speaker, counsellor. He can be reached on 09059243004 (SMS only)

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