Nigeria and its citizens are undeniably facing some of their toughest times. Four months ago, The New York Times published a harsh article titled “Nigeria Confronts its Worst Economic Crisis in a Generation,” which highlighted the stark reality of the situation. The level of hardship Nigerians are experiencing is unprecedented, largely due to the infamous declaration that “subsidy is gone.” This, combined with the supposed floating of the naira and a series of unfortunate policies, has left those at the lowest socio-economic levels struggling to survive.
Rent prices have skyrocketed, electricity bills are increasing, and many people find it increasingly difficult to commute to work. Food inflation is at an all-time high, education has become a luxury for most families, and the purchasing power of the average Nigerian is rapidly declining, largely due to a failing currency.
In developed countries, there is a concept known as social safety nets; these are schemes targeted at the most vulnerable citizens to cushion the effects of economic shocks. These include but are not limited to subsidies, cash transfers, waivers for essential services, public workfare jobs or other in-kind distribution. However, Nigeria lacks a proper system and structure for a functional social safety net – the last pandemic exposed the underbelly of a thoroughly abysmal playbook and even worse, how some public officials shamelessly weaponised, diverted and politicised what was a once-in-a-century humanitarian crisis. Imagine a minister claiming that millions of children have been fed at schools and their homes without any credible data bank– no surprise that billions of naira were recovered from such grand larceny. We also saw a politician who hijacked the donation of staple foods and decided that she would instead share it on her birthday. Other politicians either distributed such items along partisan and ethnic lines or outrightly embezzled the donated funds.
Karl Marx once posited that religion is the opium of the masses and one could argue that it’s a valid submission especially when religion becomes weaponised to manipulate others. For example, some people see religion as a means of control, not reformation – they preach godly values but during elections, they will twist themselves into pretzels just to support terrible candidates. Religion has been used in some applications to subdue certain demographics such as women and young adults; hence you hear things like “women are inferior to men”. Some see religion as a commercial venture; it’s well-documented how certain elements have preyed on the gullibility of their members by asking them to buy exotic merchandise and pay for certain assignments. Perhaps most damaging is how religion through disempowering teachings has misrepresented the purpose of spirituality as an excuse for people to outsource their responsibilities to God; hence we see people erroneously praying to God for tables when they should use their brains to convert trees to furniture.
Despite the criticisms, communities of faith in Nigeria have provided, in place of the government, social safety nets in an unofficial capacity for the longest time – anyone who thinks otherwise is either being disingenuous or naïve. That’s why you see people always expecting them to do what elected governments should be doing. If their influence and contributions were to be withdrawn, we are all gonna see crazy in this country. From the messages of hope, love and faith being propagated from the pulpit, many argue that beyond the spiritual benefits, such messages have a cathartic value, a very important effect for a country that many accuse of operating as the weapon fashioned against her citizens. Why do you think that politicians are quick to activate certain leaders of faith to rein in their members whenever it seems the polity is getting overheated, a protest is brewing or an unrest is escalating? Most of the major protests that rocked this country were successful in part because certain leaders of faith co-signed them or participated themselves. Although that trend is steadily and rightly being reversed by the much younger generation, it shows how much people respect those they believe are emissaries of God.
Communities of faith have contributed to the personal development of most people than they get credit for – these are platforms that have launched the careers of many notable names today. It’s not uncommon for most musicians today to reference in their origin stories how they honed their skills in the church – whether singing in the choir or playing musical instruments. Some people have built world-class businesses such as events management, reputation management, public speaking, media intelligence and security services from the exposure and experience they got as volunteers. For churches with huge membership or with massive events, beyond the spiritual upliftment, there is a serious economic upside for entrepreneurs and businesses that provide ancillary services for those audiences. It’s neither happenstance nor co-incidence that the best schools in the country are owned and managed by communities of faith; whether at primary, secondary or tertiary levels. Most of the highly effective civic movements and leaders have their roots in these organisations.
Like my mother would say, “This is not theory.” I am telling you what I have experienced myself. My life’s story would not be complete without the acknowledgement of the community of faith that intervened at critical times in my life. My first ever JAMB form was bought for me by one of my pastors that year, not so much because my parents couldn’t afford it but because he believed that I wasn’t too young to try it and didn’t have to wait for the money to think of the university. What he gave me wasn’t just N5,000 but he also gave me a heightened sense of self-awareness and belief that my dreams were valid. Even when we couldn’t afford medical cover, we had nurses and doctors from church like Helen Nwadike, who would show up at a moment’s notice to offer free services. If I start to talk, about the doings wey sup that year, the story no go end.
Last week, I saw a clergyman announce that his local assembly would be providing free buses to those who are struggling to transport themselves to their offices in the wake of exorbitant fuel prices. I celebrated how thoughtful such a gesture was and I believe such stories should be amplified. I also know that communities of faith feed underserved communities every Sunday, pay school fees, provide capital for start-ups, sort accommodation issues, pick up medical bills, offer pro bono legal services to inmates, dig boreholes in rural areas and much more. I have mad respect for such organisations that have intermittently intervened in many instances that could have resulted in more dire outcomes. A lot of these organisations hardly mention the things they do because one, they don’t do it for notoriety and they believe in the principle of not letting the right hand know what the left hand is doing. Two, whilst such interventions are awesome, it’s not their primary calling; it’s secondary to their mission.
This understanding is important so that we can put our expectations in context. E get why dem dey tell people to vote wisely; so that we don’t end up fighting communities of faith for not doing what elected governments that are funded by our taxes should be doing. There seems to be more outrage that such organisations hold massive events or appreciate their leaders with material things than there should be for the wanton embezzlement of public funds, dereliction of duty from politicians and the weaponisation of poverty through anti-people policies. What communities of faith contribute to society is always a net positive, if we criticise when we think they have done something wrong – we should also be loud with the acknowledgements where they get it right. It reminds me of Nicodemus, a Pharisee, who loudly criticised Jesus during the day (publicly) but quietly praised him at night (privately). These are very dire times and as much as there is a sincere desire to hold certain people accountable but we must properly situate our frustrations.
There are public officials with budgets whose job is to fix roads, ensure education is available and affordable, provide steady electricity, refine our crude oil, manage our fiscal and monetary policies, ensure that law enforcement officials don’t abuse their powers and manage the public healthcare system. The World Bank recently reported that 14 million more Nigerians have become poorer in 2024 alone, the NBS has tweaked the unemployment numbers downwards using some very strange metrics, BudgIT is outchea doing the lord’s work of highlighting how the budget has become a conduit for brazen theft through the insertion of ridiculous and overpriced items – the list is endless. If you need something to be angry about, these are some examples. Let the communities of faith breathe, don’t suffocate them – it’s our responsibility.
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