Across the vast stretches of Nigeria, from the bustling streets of Lagos to the quiet corners of remote villages, one phrase echoes like a national anthem: “E no easy.”
It’s a phrase that carries the weight of generations, born from pain, endurance, and the daily hustle of ordinary people.
Since childhood, I’ve heard it repeated—by market women, bus drivers, students, and artisans alike.
It is a chorus of survival, a melody that defines the Nigerian struggle.
“E no easy” has become more than slang; it’s a badge of honor, an acknowledgment of resilience.
Yet, despite its poetic grit, little seems to change.
The cost of living soars like a kite caught in a storm, and the average Nigerian finds themselves stuck in a cycle of struggle.
Governments rise and fall, campaigns roar and fade, promises are made and forgotten.
But the life of the common man remains largely untouched by the tides of political transitions.
It’s a maddening cycle of repetition—doing the same thing and expecting something new.
In the midst of this, many young Nigerians have found comfort in the illusion of miracles.
They cling to religious institutions, not just for spiritual guidance, but as a last hope for wealth and breakthroughs.
Mosques and churches overflow with cries for help, not plans for action.
Prayers, though powerful, are not a substitute for strategy, effort, and vision.
This dependency, unchecked, is a form of societal paralysis.
It’s as though many have accepted that hard work is either outdated or ineffective.
But let me say it plainly: Hard work never kills.
It strengthens, it builds, it refines.
No one ever died from honest labor—but millions have died waiting for miracles.
In every administration, no matter how flawed, opportunities hide in plain sight.
There are government programs, grants, training schemes, and initiatives that could uplift the focused mind.
But far too often, young people ignore these chances.
They believe wealth should come swiftly and easily, like an answered prayer.
But money made without effort rarely lasts; it evaporates like mist in the morning sun.
Sweat and sacrifice give success its meaning and sustainability.
For almost three decades, I have been deeply connected to the Nigerian youth.
I’ve worked with them, listened to them, laughed and wept with them.
They are full of energy, talent, and promise.
But there’s a striking flaw that continues to weaken their potential—a deep sense of entitlement.
Many expect rewards for work they never did, positions they never earned, and respect they’ve yet to command.
This mindset is corrosive.
It kills ambition before it even has the chance to breathe.
Hard work, while slow, is a steady path that never fails those who stay committed.
Success through shortcuts may come quickly, but it fades just as fast.
History honors those who toiled, not those who waited.
The great inventors, leaders, entrepreneurs, and thinkers of our time , Alhaji Aliko Dangote, Olugbenga Agboola of Flutterwave, Mike Adenuga, Femi Otedola,—none achieved greatness without relentless work.
There is dignity in labor, and there is pride in building something from the ground up.
The youth must reclaim this principle, not just for themselves, but for Nigeria’s future.
We cannot build a strong nation on entitlement, laziness, or blind hope.
We must sweat, grind, and push boundaries.
If we change our mindset, we can change our destiny.
Let “E no easy” become not a complaint, but a call to action.
Let it be the rhythm that fuels our determination, not our despair.
Let it remind us that though the path is hard, it is not impossible.
And above all, let us remember: Hard work never kills. It only makes us stronger.
Mogaji Wole Arisekola writes from Ibadan.
