An Open Letter to President Buhari (which he will never read)

I sat in a car for nearly five hours today, maneuvering through traffic from Ikoyi to Ikeja and back; a journey that should take no more than an hour took my colleagues and I five hours. Why? Because three-lane roads have become one-lane roads as hundreds of cars queue up (as they have on and off for weeks now) to buy fuel -- which is not even being sold at most filling stations so people are just queueing up in hope.

By the end of the trip today, my knees were hurting from having sat down for so long and there was a dull throbbing in my heart from despondency and hopelessness.

Mr. President. I am not an economist, or a partisan, and I do not fully understand the complexities of Nigeria. I'm just a woman who is tired of being sad to the point of sickness at the state of Nigeria (the only country that I can call my own).

Mr. President. I understand that Nigeria is in ruins, from our economy to our infrastructure to our health care, education, security. I understand that it has been ruined for years and it is not directly the fault of you or your government. I understand that you are trying your best.

But, Mr. President, if there is no fuel, then the country will grind to a halt and people, their businesses and livelihoods will suffer. And, Mr. President, you don't even talk to us these days. Honestly, sir, I'm a low maintenance woman; I'm not asking for a fancy press conference or a string of interviews with plenty grammar. I'm just saying, get NTA and their stuck-in-the-1950s graphics to get a camera rolling and address your people. Mr. President, talk to me.

Mr. President. I'm sure you have round the clock power in Aso Rock, so I doubt you're able to truly understand what the masses are going through.

Mr. President. In March 2015, I sat with my parents in our living room and we counted the results of the elections from each state. My heart was in my throat. And when we figured out that you had won, tears were in my eyes. It felt like a miracle; it was this same Buhari who had ruled us in the 1980s that God had smiled upon and, in his fourth attempt at democratic leadership, had won, again, finally.

Mr. President. It is this same me, who cheered you on and chose you over Jonathan, that's begging you to do something. There are youth who have finally gotten their businesses running whose profits this fuel scarcity will disrupt gravely. There are commuters who can barely afford the extra 100 naira danfo drivers have added to transportation fares. Fuel means everything to us.

Mr. President. Please. Do something.

- Ibiene