Psychologists would tell you that the best therapy for dealing with pain is to forget and let it go. It’s a no-brainer why this is so. In that moment you forget, you are numb to memories, immune to despair and deaf to worries; you can put up a smile and actually be convinced that it is coming from your heart.

Unfortunately, much as it is a useful tool in enduring the travails of this life, we Nigerians seem to have perfected the art to our detriment. Nigeria is a giant that has withstood many vices, the question is how much more can it take? One of my favourite church renditions is “Giants do die” (in this case, an allusion to Goliath). Even though Nigeria is no Goliath, it is still a giant. It is our duty as good citizens to make sure that the flag keeps flying proudly, not hanging limp from some rusty pole whose maintenance funds are regularly diverted to other uses

I had mixed feelings when I read on the BBC news website that Nigeria had topped the world happiness survey carried out by the UK New Scientist Magazine. I was glad because, for once we were not topping the corrupt nations list, but I was burdened because it signalled one thing to me – people were and still are leaving in denial. I call this denial – ‘E Go Better’ Syndrome.

The same day bombs were going off in Abuja, the trending topic on Twitter among fellow Nigerians was #celebperfumes – where we cracked ingenious jokes about celebrities both home and abroad. I really found them amusing, but one part of me was in pain for the lives lost. In my chat with a friend who recently left Britain to join her family in Jos late last year, she said no one budges at the sound of a gun – it has become that common-place. Things have aggravated from machetes and cutlasses to bombs, and my people are still smiling. We are smiling and shrugging helplessly, hoping it will not be our turn one day.

Amnesia can be beautiful. Have you ever dreamt of utopia, so sweet and so blissful you don’t want to wake up? This time around, I plead with you to wake up; while you go to the wash-hand basin and dab water on your faces, reflect on where we are coming from. Let the pain course through your veins, feel it, and get fired up for change.

This was not how our fathers planned it. Children and women were not meant to lose their lives on the grounds of religious squabble. Children were not born to be kidnapped because their dads refused to give an uncle money. We were never meant to lack basic amenities; the resources were and are still there at our disposal if only they are properly managed. Men were never meant to die trying to protect their families because of a poor security system. Ritual killers, armed robbers and ‘one-chance’ were meant to be alien terms. “One day, one day e go better” says a popular Nigerian musician. But please, even if you won’t do anything about this, do one thing; do not forget. I repeat, do not forget. Brood and mull over the state of our nation, before long, you will know what to do. And if you don’t you will tell your kids, perhaps they are the beautiful ones Ayi Kwei Armah refers to in The Beautiful Ones are Not Yet Born. They will have their lifetime to think about a change strategy. Do not give up.

On that note, I will share what a tweetizen said concerning the coming elections,– “Drop your mental guns and use your physical thumb.”

VOTE this 2011.

It seemed like the day would never come. I had talked about leaving with everyone I knew, said farewells, even cleared out my apartment, but the thought of boarding an airplane not looking back seemed far fetched.

Here I am though, a month later feet firmly planted on Nigerian soil, staring destiny in the face. Now more than ever understanding the importance of Vote or Quench in Nigeria’s future.

This understanding reinforced everyday, as I watch the country’s future standing 3 feet tall, an average of 7 years old hawking unwanted goods in traffic for chicken change. The countries past plastered across the walls with vague declarations of why they are deserving of an uninformed vote.

The space between rich and poor isn’t vast but the disconnect is immense. One neighbor’s compound holding a palacial home, personal mini-mosque, peacocks and pigeons as ornaments, and manicured lawns. My neighbor on the other side a decaying building that used to serve as a government run clinic, which is now a squat. Kids not older than four years old balancing jerricans on their heads to fetch water.

I’m not trying to paint a picture of doom and gloom, because as those kids do jobs, reserved for grown men in certain realities, a smile remains on their faces.

What we’re looking at is a country of underdeveloped human capacity. Kids who in another world could be doctors, engineers, architects, but in this system, aren’t standing far from their fate of street life. Taking up a life of crime if the desperation of a hard life gets too much to bear.

If you are currently reading this you undoubtedly have a sense of right and wrong. What would be right would be to take a deeper look to what personal steps can be made towards a greater Nigeria. The wrong steps would be to sit back, and allow a failing engine to continue to steer our nation deeper towards a completely failed state. So I ask, will you Vote or watch our nation Quench?

A lot of people don’t really see how these disenfranchised kids affect them. Understandably so, when your compound is fully equipped with a generator, a borehole, and imported electronics. What the apathetic rich forget is that crime does have legs, and guns are mobile. Vote or Quench.

An attempted bombing last year placed Nigeria – and more importantly, Nigerians – on a watch list, with rather unfortunate consequences. At the time, and in months that followed, Nigerians hoped that the attempted flight bombing would be revealed to be a one off. Aren’t we after all, among the world’s happiest people? Read the rest of this entry →

We were blessed to have a young Nigerian submit her expression of her desire for change. Toyosi Kekere-Ekun submitted original photographs which speak a thousand words.
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I have enormous tracts of land and vast volumes of water, but cannot feed myself. So I spend $1 billion to import rice and another $2 billion on milk. I produce rice, but don’t eat it. I have millions of cows but no milk. I am 50, please celebrate me.

I drive the best cars in the world but have no roads, so I crush my best brains in the caverns, craters and crevasses they crash into daily. I am in unending mourning, please celebrate me.
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This is a post from a guest blogger that prefers to remain anonymous. Contact us here for the chance to have your blog post published on Vote or Quench.

I recently received an invitation to attend a Red Carpet Gala to celebrate Nigeria’s 50^th Independence day on October 1^st,2010.

I’ve paced back and forth, pondered, scratched and nearly picked all the hairs on my head, trying to sum up at least three good reasons why I should attend this event.
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Does it seem like problems affecting you as a Nigerian youth always go unaddressed? Ever wish you had a platform where you could make your voice heard?

Well we would like to give you a place to air out your frustrations; and ask our Presidential candidates: “What Would You Do If You Were President?”

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You’ve seen the Vote or Quench Shirts our girl Nneka has been rocking, designed by the very talented Senongo Akpem. We got tons of requests from people interested in owning their very own. So we decided to give them out, so you can spread the good word of Vote or Quench through your sense of style. We’ve got them for men too!
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In Nigeria’s electoral history, a distinct element that has plagued the system, has been the buying of vote. Citizens give away their golden ticket to the highest bidder.

It makes sense. The cash they give out allows people to send their kids to school, put food on the table, power their generators, or attend to sick loved ones. When you’re in a bind with money, any offer no matter how little can go a long way.
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Nigerians on ground and all over the world, of all backgrounds and ages, can attest to having the most delectable conversations with fellow Nigerians in the living room. The “parlor” conversations as some would call it, covers topics ranging from Nigerian politics to people in the social spotlight or unraveling the puzzle behind the present aberration of Nigerian football. Undoubtedly, the dynamic of these conversations is worthy to behold. I had the pleasure of indulging in one similarly with some Nigerian friends this past weekend, and the topic of our discussion was Greed.

Here’s my POV in short:

Many individual Nigerians you and I know or have encountered are likely very opinionated and innately prideful. A Nigerian’s pride is one that demands honor and respect. Now, how is this pride conveyed and displayed to others? In Nigeria’s case, starting from the very top of the hierarchy, judging from past woes with our government policies, constant instability in power, ethnic and religious disintegration, even up until the recent melee that occurred in the House of Rep gathering in Abuja, it is most certainly safe to conclude that to a degree, pride has also caused us extreme hurt and misdirection. This pride that resides within the Nigerians has been clearly exercised more negatively than positively in our nation’s politics and hence a reason to ponder if this will be a constant cycle.

(These are our leaders!)

This harmful strain of pride breeds greed, selfishness, scorn, conflict, ignorance and the oft used synonym to Nigeria, corruption. Greed is what I believe spurs all the other destructive traits. Pride, all in all, with its good and bad, has been a gift and a curse.
Nigerians, as a unit, we need to challenge ourselves to uphold our nation as the Pride of Africa but on an individual level turn our show of this Pride to others as one that steadily breeds humility, selflessness and solidarity.

What’s your take?