A few days ago, I was having a lighthearted conversation with a friend of mine who hails from Ilesha, a historic town in southwestern Nigeria. The people from Ilesha and its neighboring towns are known as the Ijeshas. These industrious people have made their mark in various fields such as music, comedy, education, banking, farming, and trading. From icons like Moses Adejumo, famously known as Baba Sala, to Chief Omole, Chief Farodoye, Oba Aromolaran, and Adedara Arunralojaoba, the Ijeshas have built a rich legacy of entrepreneurship, entertainment, and cultural pride. One trait often associated with the Ijeshas, rightly or wrongly, is their tenacity in pursuing debtors, ensuring that any money owed to them is promptly refunded.
In the old days, perhaps up until the late 1980s, there was a popular saying in Ijeshaland: “e sun han fogede se lile ‘Jesha, eye leje,” which loosely translates to “the Ijeshas had no use for plantains or bananas; they were left for the birds to eat.” This saying reflected the abundance of food in the region, where the sheer availability of agricultural produce made certain items, like plantains, almost insignificant. This abundance wasn’t unique to Ijeshaland but was also reflective of Nigeria during that era. The country was rich in farm produce, so much so that people paid little attention to certain foods.
The era of abundance reminds me of my childhood days in Ijare, Ondo State, where I lived with my grandmother, Yeye. During those years, Yeye raised a few free-range goats. I remember vividly that these goats were never hungry. Freshly harvested green plantains were a staple in their diet, and they were fed almost daily. The abundance of plantains was such that, after being well-fed, the goats would wander off to rest, completely satisfied. At the time, it never crossed anyone’s mind that a day might come when goats would be deprived of such a balanced diet, which sometimes included yam peels and others. Today, not only are goats not fed with plantains, but many Nigerians also struggle to afford plantains or yams for themselves. Those who can afford these items are often so keen on maximizing their investments in the name of healthy living that even the peels are kept from the goats. I often imagine that today’s generation of Nigerian goats must envy their grandparents, who enjoyed a much better dietary lifestyle.
Over the years, a combination of factors has led us to this point. Education, urban migration, insecurity, a growing appetite for imported foods, bad leadership, and widespread corruption have all contributed to our current state. We have lost our agricultural compass. Gone are the days when parents would insist their children finish every bit of the food on their plates, ignoring their pleas of “mo ti yo” (I am full). Today, both parents and children alike often find themselves pleading, “ebi n pa mi” (I am hungry), as the scarcity of food becomes more pronounced.
Is it possible to return to those days of abundance, when even the poorest among us had enough to eat? There was a time when villagers would send bags of food items to their relatives in the city, a time when yam, cocoyam, and garri were plentiful. A time when we were so well-fed that the discomfort of overeating made it hard to sleep.
To regain even a semblance of those days, the government must step up by creating an enabling environment with adequate infrastructure and ensuring the country’s security. Many must return to farming, embracing hard work, integrity, and a rejection of corruption. We must be led by example, with government policies that are intentionally designed to ensure food security for all. A hungry citizen is more likely to drop out of school, live an unhealthy lifestyle or engage in theft, corruption, electoral manipulation, and thuggery. These individual struggles collectively impact the nation’s productivity and, ultimately, the country’s GDP.
In reflecting on My Grandmother’s Goats, several important lessons emerge for me. The first is that abundance, when taken for granted, can lead to complacency. The abundance of food in the past made it easy to overlook the need for sustainability and careful planning, a neglect that is now evident in today’s scarcity. The second lesson is the importance of self-reliance. As we became more dependent on imported foods and less focused on local agriculture, we lost our ability to feed ourselves, leading to widespread hunger and poverty. Lastly, the story underscores the critical role of leadership and integrity in shaping a nation’s future. Without a government that is committed to creating a secure, enabling environment and citizens who are dedicated to hard work and honesty at every level, any attempt to return to those days of abundance will be in vain.
NB: Johnson Babalola, a Canada based lawyer, leadership consultant and corporate emcee, is a public affairs analyst.
