At 65, nations ought to show maturity. They ought to stand as examples of stability, development, and foresight. But Nigeria at 65 is a sobering reminder that adding years is not the same as making progress. We have counted time, but have failed to make time count.
Take education. In 1960, Nigeria had two universities. Today, there are 141. Yet, Nigerian parents send their children to Ghana(a country with just nine universities) because ours have been reduced to glorified secondary schools. UNICEF warns that 20.5 million Nigerian children are out of school. In two decades, nearly a third of our population may lack the literacy required even for low-end jobs. Numbers are deceptive. We have grown in size, but not in quality.
Infrastructure tells the same story. In 1960, Nigeria had 8,800 km of paved federal highways in good condition. Today, we boast of 193,600 km of federal roads, but only 28,200 km are paved and most are deadly. Benin-Ore, Abuja-Kaduna, Enugu-Port Harcourt, Abuja-Lokoja… names that should mean connectivity now spell death. Every year budgets are announced, every year money disappears, and every year Nigerians die on roads that never get fixed. Quantity without quality is nothing but a national scam.
Healthcare? A similar tragedy. From 118 mission hospitals and 101 government facilities at independence, Nigeria now has 22 federal medical centres, 23 teaching hospitals, and tens of thousands of health centres. Yet, citizens run to Ghana to treat skin rashes, while leaders fly abroad for ear infections. It is a grotesque joke: hospitals everywhere, but no healthcare.
Security is worse. With a population of over 180 million and a military of 400,000, Nigeria has been humiliated for more than a decade by Boko Haram and bandits numbering fewer than 6,000. Great Britain once ruled the world with a population of 15 million. The United States shapes the destiny of 8 billion people with just 325 million. Nigeria, with all its size, cannot even protect its own villages. Size, without discipline and efficiency, is weakness.
Agriculture, our supposed strength, is another lost cause. With 91 million hectares of arable land, we cultivate less than half, and still with crude tools. Despite producing yam, cassava, cocoa, groundnuts, sesame, rice, maize, and palm oil, we are importers of food. The FAO ranks us barely above Sierra Leone and Burkina Faso in food security. We feed the world with promises, but import rice with borrowed money.
The truth is stark: Nigeria has mistaken numbers for progress. More universities, more hospitals, more roads, more soldiers, more people but less quality, less efficiency, less impact. We are a giant only in census, a dwarf in performance.
Sixty-five years after independence, Nigeria should be a leader in Africa, competing with emerging economies across the globe. Instead, we are a cautionary tale of wasted potential. The question is not whether we should have done better. The question is why we have refused to.
At 65, the excuses have expired. What Nigeria needs is not more figures to flaunt, but a new vision built on discipline, competence, and accountability. We must stop counting the years and start making the years count.
