Nigeria’s Unfulfilled Promises – Otunba Babatunde Olushola Senbanjo

By Otunba Babatunde Olushola Senbanjo (BOS)

Nigeria, are we truly reflecting on where we are today, or are we simply enduring and moving on as though all is well?

In 2023, during the heat of the elections, promises filled the air like never before. There was hope, there was expectation, and for many Nigerians, there was a belief perhaps even desperation that change was finally within reach. The campaign messages were clear: economic revival, security restoration, job creation, currency stability, improved power supply, and a government that would listen and respond to the cries of its people. Many rallied behind President Bola Ahmed Tinubu with the conviction that experience and political strength would translate into national progress.

But fast forward to today, and the question echoes louder than ever what truly changed?
The reality on the ground has been harsh and undeniable. The cost of living has skyrocketed beyond the reach of the average citizen. Basic necessities, such as food, transportation, and housing have become daily struggles. The removal of fuel subsidy, while perhaps economically justifiable in theory, was executed in a way that left millions unprepared and vulnerable. The ripple effects have touched every corner of society. Businesses are struggling, small enterprises are shutting down, and unemployment continues to rise.

The naira has weakened significantly, and with it, the purchasing power of ordinary Nigerians has diminished. What used to sustain a family for a week now barely lasts a few days. Electricity remains unreliable, insecurity still looms in many regions, and the sense of safety and stability that citizens crave feels distant.

Yet, beyond the policies and the numbers, what hurts the most is the widening gap between promises made and realities experienced. Nigerians were not asking for perfection, they were asking for visible effort, for accountability, for leadership that feels connected to their struggles. Instead, many feel abandoned, unheard, and taken for granted.
And now, as conversations begin again about future elections, the same political figures, the same structures, and in many ways, the same narratives are resurfacing. It raises a difficult but necessary question: are we learning from our past decisions, or are we preparing to repeat them?

Democracy is not just about voting it is about responsibility. It is about holding leaders accountable, not just during campaigns, but throughout their entire term in office. It is about asking questions, demanding transparency, and refusing to normalise hardship as governance.

Nigerians are resilient there is no doubt about that. But resilience should not be mistaken for acceptance of suffering. The strength of the people should not be exploited as an excuse for failed leadership.

This moment calls for awareness. It calls for unity beyond political, ethnic, or religious divides. It calls for citizens to become more conscious, more involved, and more determined to shape the future they truly deserve.

Because at the end of the day, the power does not belong to politicians it belongs to the people. And until that power is exercised with wisdom, courage, and accountability, the cycle may continue.

Nigeria is not a poor country, but it is a poorly managed one indeed. And until leadership begins to reflect the true potential of its people, the frustration, the anger, and the disappointment will only grow louder.

The question now is simple, but heavy: Will Nigerians continue to hope blindly, or will they begin to demand better and act on it?