We Keep Calling on God While We Do Nothing: Prayer Without Pausing for Action Is a Kind of Cowardice.

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by saharaweeklyng.com

“The tragic cost of outsourcing national duty to heaven while corruption destroys institutions on earth.”

For too long Nigerians have been trapped in a pious loop: Pray, Petition, Post a prayer request, then return to business as usual. Prayer is not the enemy (it has comforted and sustained millions through grief and crisis) but when prayer becomes the substitute for responsibility, it is not FAITH, it is ABDICATION. A nation that kneels every morning yet allows its hospitals to run out of basic supplies, its youths to sit idle, its farmlands to be washed away by floods or seized by violence, cannot plausibly claim divine protection while it reflexively refuses the hard, mundane labour that secures the common good. Faith without works is hollow; petitions without policy are theater; supplication without sacrifice is moral window-dressing.

The facts that confront Nigeria demand more than incense and hashtags. Since 2018–19 an estimated tens of millions more Nigerians have been pushed into extreme poverty; recent World Bank analyses show the share of Nigerians in extreme poverty increased substantially in the aftermath of multiple shocks (economic, climate and security) reversing prior gains and leaving nearly half of Nigerians living at or below poverty lines in the most recent assessments. This is a national emergency that cannot be excused by piety.

Consider the everyday metrics of national life. Official labour surveys and analyses reveal a labour market riddled with underemployment and precarious work even when headline unemployment figures appear low or inconsistent due to methodological changes. In 2024 the National labour survey recorded unemployment upticks and youth joblessness that mask a deeper reality: millions eke out an existence on tiny, irregular incomes in the informal economy, with very few pathways to dignified, stable employment. When citizens face chronic insecurity, inflationary shocks and mass displacement, the impulse to pray is understandable, but the cure is not a prayer meeting, it is organized civic effort, systemic reform and sustained public pressure.

Security and displacement expose how prayer without practical response becomes a moral sleight of hand. In 2024 Nigeria hosted millions of internally displaced people fleeing insurgency, banditry and communal violence; families were uprooted, entire communities rendered vulnerable and dependent on intermittent humanitarian relief. Meanwhile, climate shocks (catastrophic floods in recent seasons) destroyed crops and livelihoods for millions more. These are problems that require government planning, investment in resilient infrastructure, accountable security policy and an energized citizenry that demands these things and not just petitions. When citizens believe their role is only to pray, they allow corruption, negligence and incompetence to calcify into institutions.

Corruption and impunity are not neutral bystanders; they are active enablers of national decline. Nigeria’s position in global indices of public-sector integrity remains troubling: persistent low scores and middling ranks in anti-corruption indexes reflect weak institutions and a culture of impunity that feeds mismanagement and theft of public resources. The moral language of prayer becomes particularly hollow when public funds meant for schools, hospitals and roads are diverted or squandered and yet too often the response from ordinary citizens is another round of spiritual ritual, not a mobilized demand for transparency, accountability and justice.

To be clear: THIS IS NOT AN ATTACK ON FAITH. It is a call to reconcile belief with belonging. The great Nigerian voices of conscience have long insisted that silence is not innocence. Wole Soyinka warned that “the man dies in all who keep silent in the face of tyranny” a line that speaks directly to our time: a nation that shrinks from collective action is a nation that dies a little each day. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie reminds us that “people make culture,” which means the ideas and habits that have allowed our civic life to atrophy are changeable, but only if we stop excusing inaction with devotion and start building new habits of responsibility and protest.

What does responsible citizenship look like in practice? It begins with the mundane but essential acts that sustain civic life: registering to vote and voting smartly; holding elected officials to account through sustained oversight and constituency pressure; joining or founding community organizations that repair roads, mentor youth and deliver local health and education services when the state fails; supporting independent media that uncovers mismanagement; and refusing to normalise impunity by demanding transparent procurement, audits and prosecutions when corruption is exposed. It is not about abandoning spiritual life, it is about demanding that our faith translate into ethical behaviour, public service and sacrifice. When congregations demand improved local schools or insist a community health clinic be properly staffed, that is devotion translated into duty.

Leadership matters; and leadership can be exercised without waiting for official sanction. Across Nigeria’s history, ordinary citizens have risen to extraordinary challenges by organizing cooperatives, vigilante groups (subject to rule of law), community security watches and grassroots advocacy movements. But those efforts must be anchored to law and human rights, not to vigilantism or sectarian reprisals. A Christian, Muslim, or traditional leader who prays on Sunday or Friday and on Monday tolerates vote-buying, contractor fraud, or the denial of basic services is not virtuous, they are complicit. Faith communities should be incubators for civic courage: places where moral conviction is channeled into civic projects, electoral integrity campaigns and social accountability.

Practical reform requires three simultaneous strands: INSTITUTIONAL REFORM, SOCIAL MOBILISATION and ETHICAL RENEWAL. Institutionally, Nigerians require robust public financial management, independent anti-corruption agencies with real teeth, reliable social safety nets, and a justice system that functions impartially. Social mobilisation requires sustained civic education, professionalized civil society and cross-cutting coalitions that put pressure on elites. Ethical renewal (the most intimate and hardest) calls for a cultural shift where excuses like “WE PRAYED ABOUT IT” are recognised for what they are: a way to avoid the costs of change. Scholarly and policy voices across Nigeria and the world have shown that poverty, insecurity and poor governance are solvable when there is political will, coherent policy and an organised public that refuses complacency.

Finally, let us be blunt: God does not answer for our laziness. Many clergy and faith teachers affirm that prayer is strengthened, not replaced, by action. Prayer without effort is not piety; it is a convenience that comforts those unwilling to risk for the common good. We cannot pray our way out of BROKEN SYSTEMS if we will not also build the ladders of reform, accountability and civic solidarity that allow others to climb. The test of our faith will not be how fervently we pray when the lights go out; the test will be whether we volunteer at the nearest clinic, stand up for a neighbour who was cheated by a contractor, attend a town-hall meeting, vote with conscience, or help a displaced family replant their crops.

Nigeria’s future will be forged by citizens who combine prayer with persistence, lament with labor and devotion with duty. If we continue to outsource our responsibilities to the heavens while allowing our public institutions to wither, we will deserve whatever fate befalls us. But if we recover the courage to act (to ORGANIZE, DEMAND, REFORM and SERVE) then our prayers will be accompanied by the kind of work that makes blessings plausible. As Wole Soyinka and a long lineage of Nigerian thinkers insist: silence in the face of tyranny is death. Let us stop dying on our knees and start living in the daring posture of responsible citizenship.

Buratai: The General Who Rebuilt Courage — How One Man’s Vision Transformed the Nigerian Army

In the annals of Nigeria’s military history, few names command as much respect, admiration, and enduring loyalty as that of Major-General Tukur Yusuf Buratai. A legend to many and a hero to countless more, Buratai’s era as Chief of Army Staff became a defining chapter—one marked by discipline, transformation, and renewed national pride.

At a time when Nigeria faced some of its most daunting security challenges, Buratai stood firm at the helm, guiding the nation’s forces with a calm resolve that inspired confidence across all ranks. His leadership did not simply command obedience; it ignited purpose. Under his watch, soldiers regained morale, discipline was strengthened, and an unwavering sense of direction was restored.

Buratai championed far-reaching reforms that reshaped operational readiness and improved the welfare of servicemen and women. He understood that a motivated soldier is an unbeatable force, and so he built systems that elevated professionalism, enhanced training, and opened clearer pathways for young officers to grow. For many, his vision became the spark that lit their passion for service, giving new hope to careers that once stood uncertain.

But beyond the battlefield and barrack walls, Buratai’s leadership radiated deeper values—unity, patriotism, and national dignity. He often emphasized that protecting Nigeria is not merely a responsibility; it is an honor. To him, every soldier, from the newest recruit to the most seasoned commander, played an essential role in safeguarding the nation’s integrity.

Today, the footprints of his legacy are unmistakable. The army he helped shape is more cohesive, more resilient, and more trusted by the Nigerian people. His influence continues to echo through the ranks, in the discipline of our soldiers, the confidence of the public, and the stability of the institution he once led.

Major-General Buratai’s story is not just one of military success—it is a story of vision, sacrifice, and leadership that rebuilt courage in a nation that needed it most. His name, etched boldly in the fabric of Nigeria’s history, remains a guiding light for generations of soldiers who follow in his path.

BLOOD, OIL AND BETRAYAL: The Untold History of the Warri Crisis.

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by saharaweeklyng.com

“A deep dive into the political distortions, boundary disputes and violent power struggles that fuelled one of Nigeria’s most devastating oil-region conflicts.”

INTRODUCTION: WHEN OIL BECOMES A CURSE.

Warri was not designed to bleed. It was designed to thrive; a booming oil city, a melting pot of Itsekiri, Ijaw and Urhobo civilisation and one of the most economically strategic territories in the entire Niger Delta. Though the same abundance that should have made Warri Nigeria’s industrial crown jewel became the poison that fractured it.

The Warri crisis is a brutal testament to what happens when greed overwhelms governance, when political manipulation replaces justice, and when the oxygen of a people’s survival (land, identity and resource control) is weaponised. The city became a theatre of unending conflict because institutions failed, leaders betrayed trust and the federal structure amplified rather than resolved grievances. As the renowned political theorist John L. Esposito once wrote, “Where the state refuses fairness, society becomes a battleground of competing wounds.” Warri embodies that warning to the letter.

THE ROOT OF THE FIRE: A CITY BUILT ON COMPETING HISTORIES.

The foundation of Warri’s crisis lies in the overlapping historical claims of three ethnic groups: the ITSEKIRI, IJAW and URHOBO. Each group holds deep cultural and ancestral attachments to the land and its waterways. Colonial administrators worsened tensions by redrawing boundaries in ways that ignored indigenous histories. The British-era Native Authorities, provincial boundaries and later Local Government reforms all created structural imbalances. Communities who felt sidelined by these political designs carried those grievances into the post-colonial era. The embers were already hot and it only needed a spark.

Professor Eghosa Osaghae, a leading scholar of federalism, once warned:

“When administrative boundaries do not reflect social reality, conflict becomes a permanent resident.” WARRI is the NIGERIAN example of that truth.

THE FLASHPOINT OF 1997: WHEN A “PEN STROKE” IGNITED A WAR.

In March 1997, the Nigerian military government created new LGAs and relocated the Warri South-West Local Government Headquarters from the predominantly Ijaw community of Ogbe Ijoh to the Itsekiri community of Ogidigben.

That decision was not administrative; it was explosive. For the Ijaw, it meant political disenfranchisement, loss of control over revenue allocations and weakened access to land rights. For the Itsekiri, it was a long-overdue correction of historic marginalisation. For the Urhobo, it added another layer of complexity to already tense communal relations.

The consequence was war.

Militias formed overnight. Villages were razed. Lives ended brutally. Communities that had lived in uneasy peace for decades turned into bitter enemies. The conflict spread quickly across Warri, Escravos, Koko, Gbaramatu, Ugborodo and other key oil belts.

Human rights groups recorded hundreds of deaths, mass displacement and widespread destruction. Chevron, Shell and NNPC facilities became targets and Nigeria’s oil production nose-dived.

Warri (a city built to be a symbol of prosperity) was now synonymous with bloodshed.

OIL: THE FUEL THAT FED THE FLAMES.

To understand the Warri crisis, one must understand the politics of oil. The struggle was never merely about ethnicity. It was about control — of flow stations, pipelines, royalties, political access, oil company patronage and federal allocations. The late economist Claude Ake captured it perfectly:

“In Nigeria, oil is not a resource. It is the politics itself.”

In Warri, this reality was unmasked violently.

Oil companies often hid behind a façade of neutrality, yet their operational maps influenced who had power. Communities fought bitterly to be recognised as “HOST COMMUNITIES” because that meant contracts, employment, compensation and political access.

The 1997 LGA headquarters relocation was simply the match that lit decades of tinder.

THE DEEPER BETRAYAL: HOW GOVERNMENT FAILED WARRI.

The Warri crisis persisted because the state repeatedly failed in three major ways:

1. Failure of Fair Governance.

Decisions were made without consultation. Communities were treated as afterthoughts. Leaders played ethnic politics to secure FEDERAL ATTENTION and OIL COMPANY FAVOUR.

2. Failure of Security and Justice.

Instead of impartial conflict resolution, authorities often responded with force. Allegations of arbitrary raids, mass arrests and selective protection became common. As the conflict analyst Dr. Cyril Obi wrote, “When security forces become perceived as ethnic tools, the state’s legitimacy collapses.”

3. Failure of Development.

Despite producing billions in oil wealth, Warri’s communities remained underdeveloped. Roads collapsed. Schools shut. Health centres decayed. Youth unemployment worsened. A generation grew up seeing violence as the only language the government understands.

Warri became a paradox: an oil giant with the LIVING CONDITIONS of an ABANDONED VILLAGE.

THE RISE OF MILITIAS: WHEN YOUTH BECAME THE ARBITERS OF POWER.

With no jobs, no justice system to trust and no political empowerment, young people turned to the only available economy, which is the militant economy.

Pipeline vandalism, oil theft and territorial control became alternative livelihoods.

This era birthed the militant networks that later evolved into groups connected to the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND).

These groups defended their ethnic interests but also tapped into the lucrative black economy of illegal oil bunkering. As the Niger Delta historian Ibaba I. Samuel puts it:

“A neglected youth is a weapon waiting for the highest bidder.”

Warri’s youth became exactly that; weapons in the hands of political actors, warlords and economic saboteurs.

THE HUMAN COST: WHEN A CITY’S HEART STOPPED BEATING.

The Warri crisis unleashed human suffering on a massive scale:

Entire communities were erased.

Children dropped out of school.

Women became widows in hours.

Markets and businesses collapsed.

Inter-marriages dissolved as families fled.

Thousands were internally displaced.

Traditional institutions lost authority.

Fear became the city’s official language.

Warri moved from being a city of industry to a city of trauma.

THE ECONOMIC RUIN: WHEN AN OIL CAPITAL BECAME A WARZONE.

The Warri crisis dealt Nigeria one of its largest economic blows in the Fourth Republic:

Oil companies shut down operations.

Production dropped significantly during peak violence.

Billions of dollars were lost in output.

Critical infrastructure was vandalised continuously.

Investors fled.

Port activity declined.

The ONCE-BUSTLING Warri refinery became symbolic of national decay.

Nigeria (a nation addicted to oil revenue) bled alongside Warri.

PATH TO REDEMPTION: WHAT MUST BE DONE.

Warri can rise again, but not through EMPTY POLITICAL speeches. It needs STRUCTURAL REFORM anchored on fairness.

1. Clear, just, community-backed boundary demarcation.

No more ambiguous maps drawn by bureaucrats who have never visited the creeks.

2. Power-sharing and political inclusion for all ethnic groups.

No group must feel like a tenant in its own land.

3. Transparent oil revenue allocation.

Host communities must feel the impact and not through crumbs but genuine development.

4. Community-based peace mechanisms.

DIALOGUE, not FORCE, creates permanent peace.

5. Youth empowerment and economic diversification.

A city that leaves its youth jobless manufactures its own destroyers.

6. Oil companies must be held accountable.

CSR must become law-backed obligation, not public relations charity.

FINAL NOTE: REBUILDING A CITY BETRAYED BY ITS GUARDIANS.

Warri’s crisis is not just a story of conflict, but a story of betrayal.

Betrayal by leaders who weaponised ethnicity.

Betrayal by governments that ignored early warnings.

Betrayal by oil companies that benefited from division.

Betrayal by a system that treated human lives as expendable.

YET WARRI HAS NOT DIED.

Its people remain RESILIENT, PROUD and EAGER for PEACE.

Its creeks still carry the ECHOES of a FUTURE WAITING to be REBUILT.

Its youth still POSSESS BRILLIANCE WAITING to be UNLOCKED.

Though only TRUTH, JUSTICE and INCLUSIVE GOVERNANCE can restore what was lost.

As Chinua Achebe warned:

“A man who does not know where the rain began to beat him cannot say where he dried his body.”

Warri must confront where the rain began. Only then can the Big Heart State (Delta) beat strongly again.