A Journey Through the Wilderness
When the Israelites left Egypt,
their path was marked by hardship. They trudged through deserts, crossed the
Red Sea under Moses’ staff, and survived on manna from heaven. Yet, in their
suffering, there was always a promise: “I carried you on eagle’s wings and
brought you to myself” (Exodus 19:4). Movement was not just survival; it
was destiny. The journey itself was the covenant of freedom.
Nigeria today finds itself in a
similar wilderness. Our ministries of Transport, Aviation, and Works entrusted
with carrying the people on “eagle’s wings” have instead become the bane of
existence, shackling citizens in a modern captivity of broken roads,
unaffordable flights, and absent railways.
Death Traps on the Highways
The Ministry of Works bears
responsibility for the arteries of the nation. Yet our roads are littered with
potholes, accidents, and insecurity. Highways that should connect families and
commerce have become death traps. Like Pharaoh’s chariots swallowed by the Red
Sea, countless lives are swallowed daily by negligence and decay. The promise
of safe passage has been betrayed.
The Silence of the Rails and Buses
The Ministry of Transport, meant
to provide alternatives, has failed to build a system that moves people with
dignity. Efficient rail networks remain a mirage. Bus systems are chaotic,
unsafe, and unreliable. Goods rot in warehouses because there is no infrastructure
to carry them swiftly to markets. The Israelites wandered forty years in the
desert, but Nigeria has wandered sixty years in transport wilderness, without
manna, without direction.
Aviation: The Eagle’s Wings Broken
In biblical imagery, God
promised to lift His people on eagle’s wings. In Nigeria, aviation should be
those wings. Instead, they are clipped. Banditry and kidnappings have forced
citizens into the skies, but the proprietors of air travel have turned desperation
into exploitation. A single domestic flight is now on the borderline of ₦500,000,
making it cheaper to fly six hours from London to Lagos than forty-five minutes
from Lagos to Enugu, Asaba, or Awka. The eagle’s wings have become a vulture’s
claws, preying on the people’s need for safety.
What Have We Done to Ourselves?
This is not merely an economic
failure; it is a moral indictment. A nation that cannot move its people cannot
move forward. The ministries of Works, Transport, and Aviation have become
Pharaohs of our time, holding Nigerians captive in immobility. The Exodus story
reminds us that liberation is not only about leaving bondage but about building
a path to the promised land. Nigeria’s promised land remains unreachable
because the journey itself is broken.
Toward a New Exodus
If Israel’s Exodus was about
faith, Nigeria’s must be about responsibility. We must demand:
- Roads that are safe, maintained, and
secure.
- Railways that connect cities and markets
with efficiency.
- Aviation that serves, not exploits, the
people.
The ministries must remember
their sacred duty: to carry Nigerians on eagle’s wings, not to cast them into
the wilderness of despair. Until then, the Exodus continues, not toward
freedom, but deeper into captivity.
Comments
What is most disturbing is not simply decay, but normalization of dysfunction. We have grown used to praying before road journeys, budgeting funerals into transport risks, and accepting airfares that insult both logic and labour. This is not resilience; it is coerced adaptation. No nation should require faith as a substitute for policy.
Your biblical framing exposes something deeper: Nigeria’s transport crisis is not accidental—it reflects a leadership mindset that plans without people in view. When ministries exist without outcomes, when announcements replace maintenance, and when desperation is monetized, governance quietly mutates into exploitation.
The comparison with Exodus is apt, but with a sobering twist: Pharaoh was external; our captivity is self-administered. We legislate suffering through neglect, then spiritualize the consequences. Infrastructure failure has become our longest-running public ritual.
Yet, the most urgent takeaway is this: movement is power. The inability to move goods kills productivity. The inability to move people kills opportunity. The inability to move safely kills hope. No reform agenda can succeed while Nigerians remain stranded—physically and economically.
This conversation must not end at lamentation. It must mature into civic pressure, policy interrogation, and accountability beyond press releases. Until movement is restored, every promise of progress remains stalled at the roadside.
Ogbuke’s Cubicle’s Desk