What Edo Taught Me About Nigeria
By Rabi Ummi Umar
On the cool evening of Thursday, April 2nd, 2026, I returned home after an exhausting day of accomplishing my mission in Edo State, popularly known as the “Heartbeat of the Nation” for its rich cultural heritage.
As I took a moment to unwind and pack my bags for my return journey to the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja, a thought struck me, echoing a conversation from earlier that would not easily be shaken off.
It circled back to a personal reflection titled “When We Focus on What Truly Matters.” After that heartfelt conversation with a friend, one can’t help but wonder whether we’ve truly been living out the “sermon,” especially in our own lives.
Yet, those moments of self-doubt reveal something profound: the beauty of life lies in its openness. As long as we remain receptive, each day presents a renewed chance for self-examination and an invitation to learn and grow.
This friend, who is deeply involved in politics, spoke passionately about his thing. While I don’t typically report on government affairs, my discipline as a communicator gives me more than enough to follow along.
Nonetheless, that specific dialogue shifted my perspective entirely. It made me realise how many others might change their minds if they were privy to the same insights. That realisation is exactly why putting those to paper became an inspiration.
The weeks in Edo allowed me to embrace a spirit of exploration, stepping outside my comfort zone to truly thrive even in spaces I never thought possible or even imagined visiting. It was the unpredictable beauty of life, perhaps why travelling is said to be a form of gaining from the vast body of knowledge.
During Ramadan, there was an event for the “City Boy Movement.” Initially, I assumed it was strictly “for the boys,” and, to be honest, the concept caught my fancy, but I kept an open mind.
Surprisingly, it was organic and inclusive, spanning 36 states and involving men, women, the elderly, and, interestingly, the physically challenged. While “rice sharing” politics was never something to admire, I walked away that day with a much deeper understanding of the grassroots and its place in politics.
A few weeks later, a conference organised by the Senior Special Assistant (SSA) to the Governor on Student Welfare and Development, a dear friend, took place. Some attendees like myself were there simply “to see,” but the event was blown away. As someone who values authenticity and integrity over political optics, I found the turnout genuinely impressive.
Despite being born and raised in Edo and being the daughter of a former SSA to the State Government (2023), I had never witnessed an event of this calibre in the state before. It stood out as a beacon of what is possible if everyone played their part, if and when youths are involved in the scheme of things.
These encounters brought a realisation that while the state, like many in Nigeria, still faces significant lapses, the progress is undeniable. From new flyovers and school construction to massive infrastructural shifts, the developments in education and youth empowerment are particularly striking.
This experience made me wonder, if so much is happening here beneath the surface, how many “small wins” are we overlooking in other states? Nigeria, as a whole, is currently weathering a storm that cannot be ignored.
We are battling banditry, kidnapping, insecurity, and a staggering cost of living. To many, it feels as though things are only getting worse. Yet if you look more closely, there is incremental progress.
Take the education sector, for example. The era of constant Academic Staff Union of Nigeria (ASUU) strikes has finally lost its steam compared to years past. The Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND) is also there, providing loans and stipends to students; it is systematically reducing the number of students who would otherwise miss tertiary education across the country.
Of course, the heartbreak of insecurity remains. It is illogical and devastating when groups attack villages without demands, leaving only grief behind. In these moments of unrest, it is easy to point fingers solely at President Tinubu. But some of our issues start much closer to home, with us, the citizens.
I remember a friend whose father was assassinated at his doorstep; despite the proximity, every neighbour claimed they “saw nothing.” Another friend was robbed during our university days; when she screamed for help, neighbours simply locked their doors tighter.
The bitter reality is that we rarely look out for one another. How can we expect a transformation at the top when we refuse to show humanity to those beside us?
We have become a nation of finger-pointers. Many have traded accountability for ignorance, blaming leadership for even the smallest personal failings. Too many youths today avoid research and critical thinking, choosing instead to sit back and complain, a habit that only digs our collective hole deeper.
Yes, there is a mountain of work left to do. But we must acknowledge the work already being done. Our government is trying. From my vantage point, the President is a solution-oriented leader doing his best under immense pressure.
Consider this: when inflation hits, marketers and drivers are the first to hike prices. We understand why. But when the economy stabilises, and costs drop, those prices stay sky-high under the guise of “old stock.” Is that the President’s fault, or are we our own worst enemies?
As Nigerians, we need to have these uncomfortable conversations. The popular saying “change begins with me” is not just a poetic catchphrase; it is a practical necessity. We must be the change we seek if we ever hope to experience the Nigeria we want.
As I head back to Abuja, I am carrying the lessons from Edo with me. We are making progress, but there is still a lot more to do. We all just need to pitch in to get to the utopia we deserve.
Rabi Ummi Umar is a corps member in Abuja. She can be reached via rabiumar058@gmail.com.
