He retired ten years ago. But not out of choice. Left to him, he would have worked until he was 70 or until he was no longer able physically and mentally to go on. He had always relished the feeling of well-being that going to work offered him. He knew the emotional and financial security he derived from his professional and executive activities. But it was company policy that employees retire at age 60 – many didn’t even make it that far.

So he had prepared himself for the inevitable and had attuned his mind to the fact that medical bills, local and foreign travel bills, out of pocket expenses would no longer be borne by the company he had served faithfully for almost three decades. He knew there would be no pension. Just a lump sum gratuity. So he knew the score and was seemingly prepared for it. The children were out of school and thanks to the company’s generosity, many of its executives owned homes before retirement.

He knew if he was reasonably healthy and kept his head above troubled financial waters, he should be okay with a few consultancy jobs to keep him busy and top up his retirement purse. His plan was to stay active and spend quality time with his friends. His desire was to be independent financially. He dreaded having to rely on children who were themselves struggling. But he did not reckon with the turn of events in the country. Of the disaster waiting to happen for someone with a largely static income in a volatile economy where almost every purchase had a foreign exchange input and where the exchange rate had moved from about 300 Naira to a dollar at retirement ten years ago to 1,500 today.

The consequence is that maintaining his preferred lifestyle had become a strain financially. Even keeping his old jalopy on the road was a drain. He found himself staying more at home than he really wanted just to keep costs down. He dreaded going to the drug store or the supermarket because the prices kept going upwards. Yet what he purchased were not luxury items. They were what he needed to keep body and soul together. He wondered for how long he could stretch his fast dwindling savings and gratuity. He knew he was facing an affordability crisis. No relief of any kind has come to him from government to make his old age more bearable. No recompense for the years he had paid taxes and contributed his quota to the economy. Instead, tax authorities are on his neck threatening ‘Best of Judgement Assessment’ (BOJ) because of money found in his account. Money that at his age, could disappear with one medical bill.

This is the story of ‘any executive’ retiree irrespective of profession or gender. Whatever they have salted away for old age is being devoured by inflation, government’s fiscal reforms and the current war in Iran. Theirs is an endangered specie in every sense. Neither government, nor society nor children is looking their way – each seems to be chasing their own demons, forgetting the aged whose loins gave birth and whose arms nurtured when they were still young and virile.

A ruling party like this current one is there for the taking – ‘it’s the economy stupid’ to quote Bill Clinton. Not necessarily for the things it did – I believe the fiscal reforms were necessary to save the country from bankruptcy for want of a better word – but the things it didn’t do. Some of them include controlling corruption, controlling profligacy, fighting insecurity and setting fiscal priorities. They include not preparing adequately for the aftershock of the reforms. They include not showing sensitivity and empathy to the plight of the average Nigerian, especially the aged whose retirement nest has been seriously eroded by the reforms.

People were just thrown into the deep-end to swim or sink. In short, it lacked a human face as someone said about another regime many years ago by failing the test of communication and empathy. This failure portrays an uncaring and insensitive government. Especially given the lifestyle of those in the corridors of power – and those close to them. Unfortunately, the opposition has failed to seize the moment. I watched the Ibadan ‘summit’ and saw nothing really edifying. I listened for that still, small voice of redemption, of seriousness, of purposeful direction, but instead heard a cacophony of empty rhetoric, of contesting egos, of power play. The speakers were long on rhetoric but short on solution.

They forget we know their antecedence and the role each played in the Nigeria of today. They forget almost everyone there carries a baggage they are yet to apologise for let alone discard. The low point was when the host seemed to threaten violence or even an insurrection. He might have been too young to watch the carnage of ‘Operation Wet e’ in the old Western Region, but I was not. I watched the torching of a neighbor’s house at Ilesha. The owner was not even a card carrying member of NCNC, just a sympathizer and an admirer of Dr Nnamidi Azikwe. His son was my playmate. It was a traumatic experience. To suggest violence in any form is irresponsible leadership in my opinion. The elephant in that room was the contest for presidency. It was more about who has the potential for the highest electoral votes than about ability or even about the country.

I and people like me, earnestly wish for an opposition which will give this administration a run for its money. An informed opposition that will tell government where its reforms have gone wrong; where it is shortchanging Nigerians. And what can be done. I wish for a contest of ideas on why Nigeria is evolving the way it is. Please don’t recount the problems – I already know them. A lot of them are systemic. Tell me the solutions. Tell me what is to be done about electricity, unemployment, the National Assembly, the Judiciary, the Civil Service and the Presidency. Tell me what to do about political leadership, including those currently in Aso Rock and those at Ibadan recently.

I belong to an endangered specie worried about how their last days on earth will play out in a country of carpet baggers. I grew up in an era where to have a million Naira was to be comfortable for life. I am confounded by this era where a few drinks now cost that much and a trip to the pharmacy costs hundreds of thousands. I can’t get over the fact that one literally needs a wheelbarrow to carry cash to the local food market and a simple bag to bring the purchases home. The amount I bought my first car with can only now buy one pineapple. Yet, leadership is not batting an eyelid as long as it can buy the latest armored car.

•Muyiwa Adetiba is a veteran journalist and publisher. He can be reached via titbits2012@yahoo.com

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