Nigerians are famed to possess the rare ability of existing in a state of happiness even in the midst of the gravest form of suffering, but that is in the past. I challenge those who claimed that they conducted a survey and found us the happiest people on earth to come around and do whatever they did again. They would find that not only has suffering tripled, the happiness they claimed they had seen in quantum has equally disappeared. Indeed some people have argued that whatever they judged to be happiness was not real happiness but a self indulging effort to mock our depraved state of hopelessness and by extension score a personal victory over it and use that false of victory to sustain hope which is the primary most necessary ingredient for survival in this clime.
Today, that legendary happiness, whether real or self deception has all phased out. No body is smiling any more. Our collective sense of humour seems to have grown wings and flown away. Such is the verdict on the faces of Nigerians. The gloom hangs on our faces like a mask leaving our faces like the clouds heavy with rain. From the faces of drivers on the queue in the filling stations, ruing the fact that they have to suffer long hours under the sun to get a few liters of a commodity God has blessed their nation with to the tone of the articles you read online and in the news papers, there is no doubt left whatsoever about our current position as the worlds leading pack of very sad people and yes interestingly, we are no more pretending about it.
The people on television are not laughing. I watch the labour leader speak; all the veins on his head and neck have sprouted out looking like rail lines on a wall map. He is shouting no to deregulation. There is a crowd echoing his shout beside him waving placards in the air. Nobody is smiling. All the discussants in the discussion programmes are all complaining. AIT does what they term “Peoples parliament”, all the respondents have straight faces with the skin around their forehead squeezed. One of the respondents makes a catchy statement, its an appeal to the reporter “Abeg, make una helep us tell gofment sey we dey suffer”, the reporter too is not smiling.
I go to work, that place that provides me an opportunity to exercise my brains and add a little life to my wallet at month end, in a commuter bus. I listen to the discussion of the passengers. I eavesdrop on their phone conversations. All I hear are long hisses, depressing sighs and grumbles. The landlord has sent in the rent reminder. It’s the children’s visiting day by weekend. Some ones school fees has not been paid. Mama is sick in the village. The pay cheque is late.
I go to the bank and those on the queue exhibit their state of unhappiness in the haggard posturing and soul sinking demeanors coupled with incessant hisses and repeated glances at their wrist watches. The cashiers too are not happy, with the manner in which they slam the stamp down on the slips and snap at customers who are quick to snap back.
Last weekend I strayed to the venue of an aptitude test by the Federal Inland Revenue Service. Ok, I didn’t just stray there; I went there because I got the sms invitation. The multitude I saw there that day, a number I was told was seen on every day of that week during which the exam lasted was testimony that indeed over forty million Nigerians (as the House of Representatives recently alleged) are unemployed and the number of those people old enough to be my father who took the test with me indicates that a great number of those actually employed are not happy with the job they do.
I got into a conversation with a little boy a few days ago. He was in a worn school uniform and walking the streets of wuse zone 3 Abuja with a bowl of pure water on his head. I was wondering why at that time he was not in school. He gave me the what kind of question is that look, his hands eager to collect the N10 I had in my hands. I didn’t like the hate in his eyes, like I was accusing him of a crime he knew nothing about. As soon as I paid him, he walked away, his misery making him almost dumb, almost dead.
I see all these and when I get on facebook, I feel the irony in our effort to create happiness with our LWKMD (laff wan kill me die )and LNGKMD (laff no go kill me die) posts. Laughter has gone from being what we do to what we think of doing, a state we aspire to. I am confident it is not just my eyes that has noticed this, but I doubt if those who drive with sirens and gather every Wednesday to approve new contracts see it too because if they do, they would have known that their first duty is to bring back the happiness into our faces, a duty they cant however handle because in some ways, they too are sad.
Sylva Ifedigbo
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