“These are to request and require in the name of the President and Commander-in-chief of the Armed forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria…” reads the first page of the Nigerian passport. It was official confirmation of every Nigerian’s status as an omo Ijoba.

I remember the first time I heard the phrase Omo Ijoba, it was my dad referring to a corps member. The youth in question was wearing the NYSC emblemmed crested vest and khaki boots. To my young mind, I understood it literally: it must mean that the government can birth children and take care of them and I wasn’t one of them. I was simply Kamal’s daughter. As I grew older, I started to understand the term in broader light. The Yoruba language is a pretty powerful one when you understand it in context and across several semantic depths. A youth corps member was an omo Ijoba. Anyone enjoying government benefits or protection is also an Omo Ijoba. In the most simplistic term, it refers to anyone who is a product of government’s doing or in most Nigerians’ case, undoing. And then in one shocking instance, it was used to refer to a stark raving mad man. Since then, I have seen this phrase jump around from one context to another with the same understanding.

How it started

Imagine opening your eyes in a hospital. It is a Nigerian hospital. You’re newly born and screaming your lungs out. Everyone is happy. Biscuits and soft drinks are beginning to exchange hands outside the labour room. “Aku ewu omo o”, your father is told. A child is born, a reason to celebrate. But there you are screaming. You look to the heavens: “God, seriously? Nigeria?? Nigerian???”. Okay, just kidding.

On the 5th of June, the Nigerian youth woke up to a twitter ban. The microblogging platform that is shop for many, connections point for millions, and a hotbed of conversations and trends for most is now ‘illegal’ in Nigeria. For many brands and businesses, twitter is that place to hold meaningful conversations and playful banter with millions of interested parties. And for the geeks, it is that place to test out mobile tech ideas or meet fellow geekonians who are ready to share coding tricks or tips for getting employed in the global tech space. Where the Nigerian governement have failed its young, the Nigerian youths have banded together to create several working systems through the twittersphere to ensure some semblance of ‘easy’ living for other youths. For me, it is one of those places where the digital agency I work with have consistently created magic. From influencer marketing and management to Twitter First View and promoted tweets. It is the joy of the trends table and the drama of staying top of it when a campaign starts. It is the disappointment of it when you put up a post and not even a single like (e dey pain sha). It is the exhaustion of moderating over 700 comments on a single post because your followers are just follow-come crazy. It is 24/7 brand and community management. Twitter is about waking up and discovering the magic of human psychology mixed with tech. It’s a beautiful world where the caged bird sings.

How it’s going

Today, millions of Nigerian youths have decided to disobey the government. The logic is simple: What you did not give, you cannot take away. We have become a product of our government. Omo Ijoba. In the words of Burna Boy, one of the many subjects of Nigeria twitter wars, we are the monsters they created and necessity has made inventors of us. We are the young who have been given nothing by its government and who have consistently come out making gold of air. We are youths who have had to sidestep government and looked outside the +234 for opportunities, means and survival. Mostly in a good way.

Thanks to the internet, the digiworld and many social networking apps like twitter, businesses have been created from scratch. Communities are kept going. Connections are made that not only put food on the table, but have become means of life progression, family growth, global citizenship and of course, has created various stages of how-it-started vs how-it’s-going. Despite the good, we are also a country of mad people masking their depression behind a great sense of humour and talent. Omo Ijoba. All thanks to a government that is working hard in reverse.

A Trip To the Age of BlackBerry…in 2021

Let’s travel back in time to the age of BlackBerry rave. 2010/2011 precisely. My friends and I would wait eagerly for the MTN cheat code so that we could chat endlessly via BBM. These codes were released periodically and several BBM groups would share them to members in order to keep everyone able to access the BlackBerry messanger when the previous code was ‘discovered’. The year is 2021 and the Nigerian government threw a country of mostly young people back to the age of cheatcodes. Today, as with the BBM age, many stay tweeting using VPNs, and other proxy codes shared on the microblogging platform. Like with everything Nigerian, the twitter ban reminds you to take caution and be wary of everything Nigerian government. Like it says at the back of every Nigerian passport:

“This passport (insert ‘person/animal/thing’) remains the property of the Government of the Federal Republic of Nigeria and may be withdrawn at any time.”

Until then, I remain: Yours digitally, a Nigerian youth.