Cleveland, a city in Ohio, USA, was long regarded as the “sufferhead” among American cities, bearing the unfortunate nickname “The Mistake on the Lake.” The moniker stuck after a memorable incident in June 1969. Like Nigeria’s River Niger, Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River was a dumping ground for industrial waste. When a spark from a moving train on a bridge ignited the toxic chemicals floating on the river, a five‑storey‑high inferno erupted. Although the fire was quickly extinguished and no one died, the disaster cemented Cleveland’s reputation as a rundown city. In the 1960s and 1970s the city was even described as a place where “ducks flew upside down because there was nothing worth dumping on.”
The aftermath was stark: Cleveland’s population fell from the nation’s fifth‑largest city to the 54th, and its economy collapsed. Yet the city eventually rebounded, becoming America’s third‑largest iron and steel producer, a cultural hub, a top‑notch healthcare destination, a champion of environmental protection, and a birthplace of rock and roll.
Nigeria faces a similarly grim picture. Its rivers—Niger, Benue, and the polluted waterways of the Niger Delta—are shrinking or contaminated, while Lake Chad recedes. Misgovernance, naira scarcity, and poverty have created a “river of tears” for the Nigerian masses.
Nigeria’s socio‑political history is marked by domination, suspicion, and tribal hatred. The first coup on 15 January 1966, led by Igbo officers Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu and Major Emmanuel Ifeajuna, triggered a wave of assassinations that included Prime Minister Tafawa Balewa, Premier Ahmadu Bello, Premier Samuel Ladoke Akintola, Finance Minister Festus Okotie‑Eboh, and many senior military officers. Only one Igbo officer, Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Unegbe, was killed. The coup brought General Johnson Aguiyi‑Ironsi to power, but the subsequent July 1966 counter‑coup resulted in the murder of many Igbo soldiers, including Ironsi, and set the nation on the path to civil war.
The Nigerian Civil War (6 July 1967 – 15 January 1970) claimed an estimated three million lives and left deep scars, especially among the Igbo, who have never fully recovered. The trauma mirrors that of other peoples subjected to genocide, starvation, and forced displacement—Native Americans in the United States, Tibetans, Taiwanese, Uyghurs, and Indigenous Canadians.
The legacy of the 1966 coups and the Biafran War continues to fuel ethnic mistrust. The 2023 general elections widened fissures of ethnicity, religion, and hypocrisy, exacerbated by the “headless” regime of retired Major General Muhammadu Buhari, a beneficiary of coups. Voter sentiment often hinges on tribal affiliation, with many hoping their tribe is not implicated in violence.
Political hypocrisy is evident in the conduct of leaders such as Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo‑Olu, who has been reduced from “foreman” to “groundsman,” pleading for the homeless and performing menial tasks as election day approaches. The “Muslim‑Muslim” ticket of Asiwaju Bola Tinubu disregarded Christian voters, risking future sectarian backlash. The All Progressives Congress exploited Nigeria’s fault lines to win votes, weaponising poverty as other parties have done.
The memory of Biafra still haunts the Igbo, just as the loss of Ilorin to the Fulani still wounds the Yoruba. The slogan “Lagos is no man’s land” provokes instant disgust among Yoruba people. If the Labour Party loses the Lagos governorship election, the Igbo may experience political pain and revive the chant “We want Biafra.” I join that song: if the Igbo cannot achieve their aspirations within Nigeria, perhaps they should be allowed to pursue them elsewhere.
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