From a granddad in the diaspora-  a message to Nigerian children

Today is Children’s Day, your day. Growing up in the 70s in Nigeria, it used to be a day wrapped in laughter, celebration, and the limitless dreams of our young minds. I am not sure if that is still the case with you. From where I sit, far away in the Diaspora, I think of you, beloved and beautiful children across our great nation. This, with a heart heavy with empathy but also glowing with unwavering hope.

I was once a child in Nigeria too. In some place called Igbuzo, in Delta State.

We played under the rain with the sun shining at the same time. Without  fear. We roamed our wallless and gateless neighbourhoods freely. We went to public schools that fed both our minds and our bodies. Our textbooks may have been worn, but our teachers were driven. We recited our national anthem and pledge with meaning. Not as a ritual, but as a promise to a country that, for all its flaws, still gave us the gift of hope.

But I know, the Nigeria you’re growing up in is not the Nigeria I knew. Your childhood has been clouded by fear, scarcity, and a leadership class that seems too often to forget its duty to protect your dreams. The roads to your schools may be unsafe. Electricity is a privilege, not a right. And many of your schools are shadows of what they should be. They lack books, desks, even teachers sometimes. That reality breaks my heart. And yet, my dear children, I refuse to give up on you or on Nigeria.

You see, I look at your eyes, and I see fire.

I watch videos of school children dancing barefoot and still finding joy in rhythm. I hear of teenage inventors building drones from scrap metal. I read stories of children learning to code in overcrowded classrooms. These are not just anecdotes. These are signs. They are proof that you are not defined by your limitations, but by your boundless possibilities.

Yes, children in other parts of the world may have more tools. But you, my dears, have something even more powerful: resilience. You adapt, you rise, you find joy even when joy seems like a luxury. This is not a consolation. I know! It is a badge of strength. And as a dad once and now a granddad, as one who carries both the burden and blessing of watching from afar, I want you to know something essential:

You are not alone.

Many of us out here, Nigerians in the Diaspora and our friends, have not turned our backs on you. We are working in ways you may not see yet. We are building bridges across borders. We are advocating for a better Nigeria. We invest in education and technology. And we are dreaming of a nation that will one day match your talents with opportunities.

One day, you too will walk into classrooms with smartboards, not broken benches. You will drink clean water not from sachets, but from trusted taps. You will fly drones, code apps, write novels, perform surgeries, build solar farms. Not abroad, but in Nigeria. This is not just wishful thinking; it is a vision already taking root.

So, on this Children’s Day, I say this with all the love of a granddad who sees you, hears you, and believes in you:

Never stop dreaming. Never stop learning. Never stop believing in Nigeria, even when Nigeria forgets to believe in you.

The Nigeria of your dreams is not a myth. It is your birthright. And together, across generations and continents, we will build it. Brick by brick. Voice by voice. Hope by hope.

Happy Children’s Day, precious ones. With pride and boundless love!

Nweke is an international trade consultant, diaspora advocate, and author of  “Economic Diplomacy of the Diaspora.” He previously served in public office in Belgium, and specialises in international trade and economic diplomacy. He writes from Brussels, Belgium.