The Nigerian Dream Is Not Dead – It Is Hiding in the Villages- Sanni Inuwa Baba

When people speak of the “Nigerian Dream,” many laugh. They say it died long ago, buried under corruption, insecurity, unemployment, and failed promises. To some, the Nigerian Dream sounds like a cruel joke, a story we tell ourselves to survive disappointment.

But I disagree. The Nigerian Dream is not dead. It has not vanished. It has only moved away from the noise of Abuja and Lagos, and is quietly hiding in the villages, waiting to be rediscovered.

Go to a rural farm settlement in Benue, and you will see farmers who plant with hope, not headlines. Visit a small community in Kano, and you will meet young women weaving, tailoring, and learning skills, not waiting for government jobs that may never come. Travel to Ebonyi, and you will see youths building rice mills with their bare hands, not waiting for foreign investors.

In these villages, life is hard, yes! but it is also real. People work, produce, and survive. They do not complain about the dollar, because their wealth is in cassava, yam, rice, goats, and poultry. They are not on Twitter spaces debating the future, they are in the soil creating it.

The tragedy of Nigeria is that we have placed all our dreams in the cities. We believe Lagos traffic will make us millionaires, or Abuja politics will change our destinies. Yet what we find in the cities is too often disillusion: endless hustle, overpriced rent, fake status, and broken promises.

The Nigerian Dream will not be found in skyscrapers built on foreign loans. It will not be found in government policies that change with every regime. It will not be found in elite circles disconnected from reality.

The Nigerian Dream is the dream of self-reliance. The dream that a farmer in Nasarawa can feed his family without begging. That a young girl in Maiduguri can learn ICT and compete with anyone in the world. That a tailor in Aba can sell clothes globally. That a mechanic in Kaduna can build machines with local parts.

It is a dream where survival is no longer a miracle, but a foundation. Where dignity replaces pity. Where hope is not imported, but grown from the ground beneath our feet.

We must shift our gaze. If Nigeria is to rise, it will rise from the grassroots, not from boardrooms. The dream is alive in every rural innovator, every farmer, every market woman who keeps pushing despite hardship. Our job is to connect them with resources, technology, and markets. Our responsibility is to make them visible, not invisible.

In conclusion, do not be deceived: the Nigerian Dream is not dead. It is only waiting. Waiting for leaders who see beyond oil. Waiting for youths who believe in building, not just complaining. Waiting for a nation that understands that its true wealth is not in foreign exchange but in its people.

The Nigerian Dream is hiding in the villages,  and if we dare to look, we will find it. And maybe, just maybe, we will find ourselves.

I