**Nigeria’s Sinking Shame: When the Flood Waters Rise, the Lies Flow Faster**
Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat. While some folks are busy sipping imported champagne and schmoozing in air-conditioned conference halls labeled “climate resilience summits,” real Nigerians are being washed out of their homes—literally. Welcome to the disaster that is becoming the norm in central Nigeria, where floods have claimed at least 151 lives, displaced over 3,000 souls, and flattened 265 homes into muddy memories. But don’t worry, your local politicians have sent “thoughts and prayers”—backdated, of course.
Let’s not beat around the bush. This isn’t “an act of God.” It’s an act of Government—years of neglected infrastructure, non-existent emergency planning, and a leadership class who couldn’t spell “flood mitigation” even if their bulletproof SUVs depended on it. The rainfall may be heaven-sent, but the catastrophe is man-made. Or should I say, politician-perfected?
Now, before the spin doctors march in with their patched-up press briefings, let me be clear: this disaster report isn’t just another sad statistic to be buried beneath the headlines. This, my dear Nigerians—and the international community tuning in from their donor-funded comfort zones—is a two-part tragedy: the flood itself and the predictable failure of those elected to stop it.
Here’s the breakdown: In the last few weeks, entire communities in central Nigeria were swallowed in stormwater. Fields turned into lakes, roads into rivers, and homes into forgotten fingerprints. Fathers are now rescue workers. Mothers are now civil engineers. And the children? School is out… indefinitely. But what’s the grand plan from Abuja’s high-seat power brokers? More committees, more roundtables, and the classic favorite—“we are monitoring the situation.”
Monitoring? My left boot shows more initiative.
Let’s call it what it is: Nigeria’s leadership is stuck in a loop of reactive politics—only appearing in crisis, never preparing for it. It’s a photo-op strategy: cry with the people today, fly to Geneva tomorrow for a climate change panel, then blame it all on “global trends.” But the game’s changing, and I play to win.
You see, if these floods had submerged Banana Island rather than Benue, there would’ve been emergency helicopters, billionaire rescue funds, and five-point-plans printed before the first raindrop fell. But because it’s rural, voiceless, everyday Nigerians crying in the mud, the nation flips the empathy switch to silent. It’s a wicked algorithm, and Mr. 47 is here to crash it.
And don’t think international donors get off the hook either. Aid agencies line up to pledge plastic buckets and chlorine tablets with more branding than usefulness, but where’s the investment in long-term flood prevention? Where’s the pressure on Nigerian leaders to do more than mime concern on CNN?
Let me toss this grenade into the echo chamber: Why is a country sitting on BILLIONS in oil revenue still unable to build functional drainage systems? Why is environmental planning wrapped in bureaucratic red tape thicker than the floodwaters destroying lives? Because disaster benefits someone. Every calamity is a carnival of contracts—the bigger the tragedy, the fatter the budget. And guess who’s at the dinner table?
But I say this to every local leader signing inflated emergency budgets and every federal official waiting for the next donation drive: You can’t dam a broken conscience.
The people are watching. Season by flooded season, a reckoning is gathering—because when folks realize the floodwaters only rise where accountability sinks, they’ll stop voting for umbrellas and start building their own arks. My advice? Stop campaigning on potholes and prayers. Start delivering infrastructure. Or get swept away with the mess you ignored.
No filter, no fluff. Just facts—served scorching hot.
– Mr. 47
