RICE FOR TODAY, RUIN FOR TOMORROW

Sad to say, rice has become a language in our politics. It is a poor language. It says little. It explains nothing. At every election cycle, bags of rice appear as if they were items in the constitution. They are not. They are symbols of neglect, of lowered expectations, of a transaction that insults both the giver and the receiver.

The voter is told, without words, take this and remember me kindly on election day. The voter, too often, obliges. A democracy is reduced to a marketplace. Conscience is priced per bag. But rice does not build roads. Rice does not generate electricity. Rice does not bring water to a dry tap. It fills the stomach for a day. It empties the future for years. This is the bargain Nigerians must now reject.

The electorate must learn to ask a different question. Not “what have you brought?” but “what have you done?” It is a simple question. It is also a dangerous one, for the politician who has nothing to show.

Let those who seek office point, not to sacks of grain, but to evidence. Where is the road you built? Where is the power you made stable? Where is the water that runs when the tap is opened? Where are the schools that teach and the hospitals that heal? These are not luxuries. They are the minimum terms of governance.

A man who has held office and cannot answer these questions has, by his silence, answered them. He has nothing. He deserves nothing more from the voter, not another term, not another excuse, not another chance to promise what he has already failed to deliver. He should be thanked and shown the door.

It is time to tell that democracy is not an inheritance. It is a test. Those who fail it must make room for those who would try. Fresh candidates are not a risk. They are a necessity when the old hands have gone stale. And if the new ones fail? They, too, must go. Power is not a birth right. It is a loan from the people. It must be repaid in results.

The tragedy of the Nigerian voter is not ignorance. It is resignation. A quiet acceptance that things cannot change, that a bag of rice today is better than a promise tomorrow. It is not. A people who trade their votes for food trade away their voice. And once the voice is gone, the silence that follows is long and costly. It is time to wake up. Not tomorrow. Now!

The vote is not a gift to the politician. It is a weapon in the hands of the citizen. It can punish. It can reward. It can shape the future, if it is used with thought, not hunger.

Nigerians must decide what they want for themselves, for their children, and for their children’s children. Not a cycle of dependence, but a foundation of dignity. Not survival politics, but development politics.

The next time the rice comes, look at it well. Then look beyond it. Ask for roads you can drive on. Ask for light that stays. Ask for water that flows. And if the answers do not come, let the votes speak. Clearly. Firmly. Finally.

Anthony Ekpo Bassey, teaches Journalism at the University of Calabar.