A Seat by the Mango Tree

By Chika Maduka, Enugu, Nigeria

Every morning before school, I sit under the old mango tree in our compound, staring at the green leaves dancing in the wind. That tree has stood longer than I’ve been alive. My father says he planted it the year Nigeria returned to democracy.

“Chika,” he told me once, “this tree will grow as Nigeria grows. But you must decide what kind of gardener you want to be for your country.”

I didn’t understand his words then. But one particular day made them clearer.

It was our Independence Day celebration at school. The principal asked us to write one sentence on what we wanted Nigeria to look like in the future. When my turn came, I stood up and said:

“I want a Nigeria where my sister can dream of becoming a doctor without begging lecturers for grades. I want a Nigeria where my father’s farm will give him enough money to send us to school, not just enough to buy garri. I want a Nigeria where electricity does not disappear like a thief in the night, leaving us in darkness.”

The whole hall went silent. Even the teachers stopped whispering. Then, slowly, my classmates clapped.

Afterwards, my best friend Musa ran to me. “Chika, you spoke my mind. I want that Nigeria too. A place where nobody cares if I am from the North or the South, but only if I am honest and hardworking.”

That day, under the hot sun, I felt something change in me. I realized Nigeria is not just a country we complain about; it is a home we can build together.

Now, every time I sit by the mango tree, I think of the Nigeria I want to see. A country where peace, honesty, and unity are not slogans but reality. A place where children like me don’t have to leave for abroad to chase dreams, because our dreams can grow right here, like roots under this mango tree.

And maybe one day, when I am old, I will tell my children: “We planted the seeds of the Nigeria you see today. And we watered it with hope.”