Just a biochemist exploring life through words.
12 essays published
For millions of Nigerians, a police encounter is not a source of safety, it is a source of dread. The killing of Mene Ogidi in Effurun, Delta State, on April 26, 2026, has once again forced the countr…
On May 29, 2023, barely minutes into his presidency, Bola Ahmed Tinubu uttered four words that would reshape daily life for over 200 million Nigerians: “Fuel subsidy is gone.” It was a declaration as…
There is a particular kind of pain that comes not from the first betrayal, but from the ones that follow. The kind that settles quietly into your chest and stops feeling like shock. The kind that, b…
Picture a neighbourhood on a hot afternoon. The power goes out again. Within minutes, the street erupts in a familiar chorus: generators roaring to life, one after another, every household retreating…
The most dangerous barriers we face as a society are not the ones we can see, but the ones we carry within us, shaped by voices we trusted before we learned to question them.
Religion has always stood at the intersection of faith and power—capable of inspiring hope, yet repeatedly used across history as a tool for control, submission, and the quiet shaping of human behavior.
Frustration with a flawed system is real, but turning it into apathy only deepens the problem—growth demands intention, not excuses.
When truth is delayed, distorted, or denied, a nation slowly begins to drift without direction.
In a country where churches and mosques command deep loyalty, one would expect them to stand at the forefront of truth and accountability. Instead, many have become spaces where power is protected, wealth is praised, and difficult conversations are avoided. This essay questions whether faith, as it is commonly practiced, is empowering Nigerians—or quietly keeping them from confronting the realities they must change.
Every morning arrives with a quiet dread—the weight of unpaid bills, slipping grades, and a future that feels uncertain. I once loved learning, but now I memorize to survive. In this “splendid melancholy” called university, curiosity fades, and fear becomes constant.
Ahmed’s sudden wealth never made sense. His mother sells akara, yet he flaunts the newest gadgets, designer clothes, and expensive watches. As his roommate and longtime friend, I can see what others pretend not to notice, the dangerous culture of fast money that is quietly shaping our generation.
Nearly three years after Nigeria removed its fuel subsidy, the promised temporary hardship has become a daily struggle for millions. Rising inflation has pushed basic necessities such as food, transportation, and electricity further out of reach, while many families are forced to make difficult choices between survival and education, leaving increasing numbers of children out of school.
