We fight all day and make love all night
We arrange the Place, and then we scatter it again
See every time I look at you, I see a perfect picture of an angel
The next minute the demon comes out and I start to wonder where is my baby, eh
I hate what you do to me, cannot tell you to go, cannot tell you to stay
Me and you like a smoking gun
‘Cause every time we argue, yes we are one
I hate you, I love you, we have to choose one
But every time you come around there is tension
When you’re not here I miss you
When you are not here there is peace here
Damn, I wanna share it with you
Wonder why it has to be this way
I Hate What You Do To Me
c. Tuface
(Caveat: Let me be clear, my pen weaves this analogy not in judgment of the artist Tuface Idibia, our beloved TuBaba the musician. His lyrics resonate deeply, hitting chords within us all, speaking to love, life, and the Nigerian experience with a power few can match. Just as his music evokes a bittersweet mix of joy and longing for what could be, so too does my love for Nigeria carry that same poignant duality – a profound affection intertwined with a deep ache for the nation we are capable of becoming, the nation we should be.)
Nigeria, our 2Baba, the grand patriarch of a vibrant, tumultuous, and often bewildering family of nations, huddled within a single geographical expanse. A land undeniably blessed with resources, brimming with human potential, yet perpetually wrestling with internal dramas that mirror, in uncanny ways, the very personal storms that consume the lives of its most prominent figures. Just as Tuface Idibia, the beloved 2Baba, finds his private life relentlessly dissected and amplified under the harsh glare of public scrutiny, so too is Nigeria’s very existence constantly examined, questioned, and often, sensationalized on the global stage. The recent whirlwind surrounding Tuface’s announced separation, his subsequent entanglement with a new relationship, and the ensuing familial and public outcry, serve as a potent, if unsettling, microcosm of the multifaceted challenges that plague our nation. The announced ‘divorce’ from a semblance of stability, the tantalizing allure of forging new unions – be it through state creation or regional realignments – and the anguished cries of a bewildered ‘motherland’ yearning for cohesion, all resonate with a chilling familiarity within the Nigerian context.
Think of Nigeria as 2Baba, a father of immense lineage, burdened by the complexities of managing a sprawling, diverse household. He is a father to countless ethnicities, languages, and faiths, each vying for recognition, resources, and a sense of belonging within the national family. Like Tuface, Nigeria is a figure deeply embedded in the popular consciousness, a symbol of resilience and potential, yet also a lightning rod for controversy and criticism.
Just as Tuface’s personal life becomes a public spectacle, so too are Nigeria’s political and social dramas played out in the full glare of the international media, dissected and debated with often simplistic and judgmental narratives.
The announcement of separation, in Tuface’s case from his estranged wife, and Nigeria’s case, from a unified national purpose, is a jarring moment. It speaks of deep-seated fissures, of relationships strained beyond easy repair, of a foundational contract perhaps perceived as broken or no longer serving its intended purpose. The rumblings of separatism, the clamor for state creation, are akin to members of 2Baba’s vast family seeking to redraw boundaries, to establish independent households, driven by grievances, perceived neglect, or a yearning for self-determination.
These movements, much like Tuface’s bold declaration of a new relationship, are not born in a vacuum. They are often the culmination of years of accumulated frustrations, unmet expectations, and a sense of being unheard or marginalized within the existing structure.
Consider the alluring figure of Natasha in Tuface’s saga. In the Nigerian context, this could be analogized to the siren call of new political configurations, the promise of a fresh start offered by regionalism, or even outright secession. These new unions are presented as solutions, as pathways to progress and prosperity, free from the perceived burdens and failures of the existing national framework. Just as Natasha offers Tuface a promise of renewed happiness and companionship, so too do these separatist ideologies tantalize with visions of autonomous governance, resource control, and a more equitable distribution of power and wealth. However, like any new relationship forged amidst the wreckage of the old, these propositions are fraught with uncertainty, potential pitfalls, and the risk of unintended consequences.
The public proposal, so boldly displayed in Tuface’s drama, mirrors the often audacious and sometimes impulsive political decisions made in Nigeria. These are grand gestures intended to signal change, to demonstrate resolve, yet they often serve to further polarize public opinion. State creation, for example, while sometimes intended to address genuine developmental needs and bring government closer to the people, can also be perceived as politically motivated, designed to consolidate power or appease specific factions, rather than serving the broader national interest.
Like Tuface’s proposal, such moves are met with divided reactions: some applaud the boldness, and the willingness to embrace change, while others decry the disrespect for established norms, and the disregard for the pain and disruption caused by such dramatic shifts.
Then there is the poignant outcry of Tuface’s mother, Rose Idibia. Her plea for Natasha to “free” her son, her claim that he is not in his “right senses,” and the veiled accusation of “voodoo,” injects a deeply cultural and emotive dimension into the drama. In the Nigerian context, this resonates with the voice of the ‘motherland’ itself, the foundational generation, the custodians of traditional wisdom, lamenting the perceived recklessness of the current generation, the fear that the nation is being led astray by forces beyond its control.
The accusation of “voodoo,” while rooted in specific cultural beliefs, can be interpreted metaphorically as a reflection of the deep-seated distrust in leadership, the suspicion of external manipulations, and the fear that self-serving agendas are overriding the genuine needs and well-being of the nation.
It speaks to a profound anxiety that Nigeria, 2Baba, is not acting in his own best interest, that he is being swayed by forces that are detrimental to the long-term health and unity of his vast and complex family.
The difficulties Nigeria faces, much like the turmoil in Tuface’s life, are multifaceted and deeply intertwined. State creation, often presented as a solution to address marginalization and promote development, can also become a source of further division and instability. While genuine grievances may exist, the redrawing of state boundaries can trigger new conflicts over resources, identity, and power, potentially exacerbating existing tensions rather than resolving them. Separatist movements, driven by a yearning for autonomy and self-determination, represent a fundamental challenge to the unity and territorial integrity of Nigeria. While the right to self-determination is a globally recognized principle, the fragmentation of a nation as diverse and interconnected as Nigeria carries immense risks, potentially unleashing a cascade of conflicts and undermining regional stability.
Leadership upheavals, mirroring the personal dramas of figures like Tuface, reflect a deeper malaise within the Nigerian polity. The constant churn of political transitions, often accompanied by accusations of corruption, mismanagement, and a lack of vision, erodes public trust and undermines the very foundations of governance. Just as Tuface’s personal life becomes a stage for public judgment, so too are Nigerian leaders subjected to intense scrutiny, their every action analyzed and often criticized in the unforgiving arena of social media and public discourse. This relentless pressure, while essential for accountability, can also create a climate of instability and make it difficult to cultivate long-term vision and consistent policy implementation.
Yet, amidst this chaos and drama, lies the undeniable prospect of a great nation. Nigeria, 2Baba, is endowed with immense resources – both natural and human. Its youthful population, its vibrant culture, and its strategic location, all point to the potential for greatness. Like Tuface, who possesses undeniable musical talent and a devoted fanbase, Nigeria holds the promise of achieving significant progress and playing a leading role on the African continent and the global stage.
The mistakes that are being made, both in the personal sphere and in the national context, often stem from a failure to learn from the past, a tendency to prioritize short-term gains over long-term stability, and a lack of genuine dialogue and understanding across different segments of society. Just as Tuface’s dramas highlight the complexities of relationships and the importance of communication and mutual respect, so too do Nigeria’s challenges underscore the urgent need for inclusive governance, equitable resource distribution, and a national conversation that transcends ethnic, religious, and regional divides.
We, the citizens of Nigeria, are more than just fleeting passions or momentary dramas. We are a complex, enduring family, bound together by history, geography, and a shared destiny. Let 2Baba, our Nigeria, remember this fundamental truth. Let him draw strength from his rich heritage, learn from his mistakes, and embrace the prospect of greatness that lies within his grasp. Lest the drama, like a relentless tempest, consume the very dream of a united, prosperous, and truly great nation, a father of many nations in the truest sense of the word—May Nigeria win!
