There is a certain man who rose from humble beginnings into wealth and influence. Yet, ever since he attained riches, his people have searched in vain for even the smallest trace of his positive impact. No scholarship, no empowerment, no helping hand extended to the community that once cheered him on. His name may be loud, but his works are silent.
Now, as ambition pulls him towards the stage of politics, he has found a new strategy. He hires young men and women, handing them crumbs—mere peanuts—to sing his praises. And sadly, many of our youths, blinded by hunger and desperation, accept these crumbs with smiling faces, raising their voices to declare him the best choice for leadership.
But what does this truly say about us as a people? About the future of a generation that trades its voice for morsels that cannot even quench their daily needs? How do we call a man “a leader” when his wealth has never watered the ground of his own community? They say charity begins at home, but if a man cannot lift those closest to him, how then will he lift an entire society?
The painful truth is that many of our youths have become victims of survival, praising where they should be questioning, dancing where they should be demanding, and smiling through the very hunger that is enslaving them. They clap for those who cannot empower them, forgetting that a future mortgaged for peanuts is a future lost forever.
So I ask, with a heavy heart—what is really happening to our young people? Where did our strength go? Where did our dignity vanish to? Why have we allowed ourselves to be silenced with the crumbs of men who have never sown goodness into the soil of their own people? Why do we raise banners for those who have never raised us?
Oh, my heart weeps, because a generation that should be roaring like lions is now bleating like sheep. A youth that should stand tall like iroko trees are now bending low for the shadow of men who give them nothing but empty promises. Our voices are our power, yet we are selling them cheaply. Our future is our inheritance, yet we are gambling it away for the price of a single meal.
We have become like candles burning in the wind, flickering with no shield, losing our light before the dawn. We have become like eagles with clipped wings, crawling on the ground when the sky was meant to be our home. We have become like wells without water, looking full from afar but empty when people draw near.
And the saddest part? Those who use us know our weakness, and they exploit it with wic**ked smiles. They know hunger has stolen our boldness, and they play with our future like gamblers rolling dice. Oh, what a tragedy, that the strength of a whole generation is being exchanged for crumbs!
When will we reject their December rice and ask them why they remembered us only at Christmas? When will we question their silence during our years of suffering, only for them to suddenly appear during election season? When will we stop clapping for men who cannot even fix a broken road in their own hometown? When will we ask them why our schools are empty of books while their children study abroad? When will we demand to know why our hospitals bleed of medicines while they fly overseas for treatment?
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When will we tell them that our dignity is not for sale, that our voices cannot be bought with cups of rice, t-shirts, and envelopes filled with promises that vanish after elections? When will we realize that a bag of rice cannot repair a broken future, and that peanuts cannot build a destiny?
Because if we fail now, history will remember us as the generation that sold tomorrow for the price of today.uh