We grew up in Lagos in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. It didn’t matter whether you lived in a flat or a house, whether your parents were millionaires or civil servants— we lived in a great time, a time full of hope and friendship. Ikoyi Club was our gathering place.
We swam, we played, we laughed, we shared sandwiches and Chapman, and believed that tomorrow would be brighter. Even today, the club still serves the sandwich, still pours the Chapman, but it looks nothing like yesterday. We walked through Ikoyi Park, now gone, replaced by concrete. We watched mudskippers dance in the water, caught fish, spread mats for picnics, and believed the earth itself was ours to share. We played at Bar Beach, a place of waves and wonder, now built into a city with no beach— a city that forgot the ocean even though it was there.
Ikoyi’s skyline rises with high-rises, Victoria Island is commercialized, commodified, its soul traded for profit. It seems like those who came came with a singular agenda: to destroy our essence. And no matter how we look, we do not even see ourselves there anymore. I still live in Victoria Island, but in a different place. And every day I see the contrast— the freedom we once knew, and the concrete we now endure. Yet still, we gather. We plan another Christmas party, another celebration of our togetherness, another toast to nostalgia. But outside, the nation falters. The corrupt rule unchecked. The unexposed stumble into power. The cries of the people echo unanswered. While we celebrate, the future decays. Do you not see? Our children are watching. They will not judge us by the parties we threw, nor the stories we retold of past glory. They will judge us by the silence we kept, by the comfort we chose, by the future we abandoned.
That is why I have not added my name to the list. Let my absence be my protest. Let my refusal to join the celebration be written into our history. Even though other programs are held during the same period, I choose not to hide in nostalgia. I choose to stand apart, so that when our children judge us, they will know at least one voice refused to celebrate failure. We are the children of Ikoyi and Victoria Island. We were raised in freedom. We were trained to lead. And now, we must remember: personal success cannot excuse collective failure, and nostalgia cannot replace responsibility.
By Dr Alex Nwuba
