10/11/2025
A Country in a Coffin
By YUSINYU OMER YINYU
In a land blessed with abundant resources—timber, minerals, fertile soils, and vast hydroelectric potential—one would expect prosperity, stability, and progress. Instead, the nation stands buried under the weight of its own contradictions, trapped in a coffin of corruption, mismanagement, and institutional decay. The tragedy is not the absence of potential, but the systematic suffocation of it.
Often celebrated as “Africa in miniature” due to its cultural and geographical diversity, the country’s natural beauty starkly contrasts with the bleakness of its governance. For decades, power has remained centralized in the hands of a ruling elite who have fashioned the state into a personal fiefdom. The presidency, rather than being a rotating mandate of the people, has become an immovable throne—shielded by legislation specifically crafted to entrench authority.
Parliament, constitutionally tasked with oversight, exists largely in symbolism. Laws passed appear designed to strengthen the interests of the few, while silencing the majority. Democratic processes are routinely performed but seldom respected. Elections occur, but outcomes are predictable, credibility is questioned, and hope for change remains elusive.
Meanwhile, corruption has woven itself into the national fabric. Public office, instead of serving citizens, functions as a marketplace of influence and personal gain. Competitive exams are compromised, jobs are purchased, and justice is auctioned to the highest bidder. In hospitals, patients encounter exploitation rather than care, while law enforcement officers are seen more as predators than protectors. Institutions that should safeguard the nation instead feed off its vulnerabilities.
The consequences are visible across daily life. More than fifty years after independence, major regions remain isolated, lacking basic infrastructure. Roads promised decades ago remain unfinished. During outbreaks of cholera and other preventable diseases, citizens in major cities can go weeks without clean water. Funds meant for development vanish before reaching their intended destinations.
Yet perhaps the most haunting reality is the silence of the people. It is not the silence of peace, but of resignation. Citizens have grown accustomed to survival under a system that punishes dissent and rewards compliance. The psychological toll is profound: when corruption becomes normal, hope becomes luxury.
And still, this nation is not without strength. Its citizens are educated, innovative, resilient, and capable of rebuilding the society they deserve. The coffin is not sealed—it is held shut by fear, fatigue, and the weight of history. But history is not destiny.
Calls for a new generation of leadership—a Moses to guide out of stagnation and a Joshua to usher renewal—reflect a longing not just for change, but for rebirth. The nation does not lack the capacity to rise; it lacks the collective will to refuse its burial.
The question that remains is not whether transformation is possible, but whether its people will choose to stand, speak, and act before the coffin closes permanently.
