EiE Changed Some Things, But the Seasons Have Remained

EiE Changed Some Things, but the Seasons Have Remained the Same for Young People
By – Alkasim Abdulkadir

A people that elect corrupt politicians, imposters, thieves, and traitors are not victims… but accomplices.
George Orwell

 

I don’t want my children to ask me one day what I did for my country and have no answer. When they ask, I want to tell them that I was neither an accomplice nor a victim, but someone who stood up to change the status quo. And when they ask for proof, I will point to Enough is Enough (EiE).

 

The Call to Action

The email arrived one evening—February 26, 2010. It was from Chude Jideonwo. I read it and thought to myself, maybe this is the moment we’ve been waiting for. I had met Chude years earlier at a British Council writing retreat, and now, his words carried urgency.

The email was quickly followed by phone calls, discussions on logistics, flight arrangements, and strategy meetings. One such meeting took place at the now-defunct JB’s Grill in Maitama Park. More meetings followed, each one sharpening our resolve.

The night before the big day – March 16, 2010, we gathered once more, talking through every detail, preparing ourselves for what was to come. On the protest grounds, my BBC colleague and comrade-in-arms, Chioma Chuka, received stacks of posters and fliers. One of them read:

“Enough is Enough. Young Nigerians are finally angry.”

In the letter we submitted to the Senate that day, one line stood out, etching itself into history:

“For the first time ever, such a diverse group of youths is marching to the National Assembly, the home of our Constitution. Today will be marked in history as the day when a new generation of young Nigerians decided that enough is enough. Too much in our country has gone terribly wrong, and the blame for this lies squarely on the shoulders of politicians, government, and ‘leaders’ who have placed power play, narrow interests, and self-aggrandizement above the welfare and development of Nigerians.”

I remember seeing Dele Momodu arrive. Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde was there too.

 

The March

The protest march began in an atmosphere of unity and quiet determination. We locked hands at Eagle Square and started toward the National Assembly—a ten-minute walk on any ordinary day. But today was not ordinary. Today, every step carried the weight of our cause.

From the speakers, voices of resistance rang out—songs of defiance, chants of liberation. The rhythm of the march was steady, our human chain unbroken, our resolve unshaken. We moved as one, bound by a shared purpose, driven by the urgency of change.

At the first gate, we met our first obstacle—a wall of mobile policemen, rigid in formation. Their expressions were unreadable, but their message was clear: You will go no further. They insisted we leave our demands there, outside the gates. But how could we? Our words were not meant to be locked outside.

Speaker after speaker took the microphone, calling out the government, listing our grievances, and amplifying the voices of the unheard. The more they pushed us back, the more we pressed forward.

Then, something shifted. A force greater than any individual took hold of us—a collective surge of willpower. We pressed against the barriers, pushed past them, and suddenly—we were in!

The rush of breaking free was intoxicating. We ran toward the National Assembly, exhilarated, weightless with the sheer euphoria of defiance. For a moment, it felt like liberation.

But our victory was brief.

The mobile policemen turned hostile, and their restraint was replaced with violence. Batons swung, striking bodies without hesitation. Tear gas canisters exploded in the air, the acrid smoke clawing at our throats, stinging our eyes. The air filled with chaos—shouts, heavy footsteps, the relentless pursuit of those who had, for one brief moment, tasted freedom.

I turned a corner, trying to dodge the burning itch of the tear gas, and found myself behind Audu Maikori—the same Audu Maikori of Chocolate City. A mobile policeman pointed a pistol directly at him. Adrenaline surging, Audu stared him down and dared him to do his worst. That moment, captured on camera, became the defining image of our protest—the symbol of our defiance, our readiness to fight the system.

 

After the Smoke Cleared

Back at the BBC office, our line manager, Eze Eze Ogali, welcomed us with a smirk. “Welcome back from lunch,” he said.

By then, the images of our protest had flooded the internet. The world had seen our confrontation with the police, our resistance, our resolve. But in a quiet show of solidarity, Ogali didn’t escalate the matter to management. He simply muttered something about being careful in the future.

 

From Textbooks to the Streets

I first learned about holding the government accountable in primary school social studies. I remember the grey and black illustrations in my Ilesanmi Social Studies textbook—protests, pressure groups, letters to the editor. The book was first published in 1982.

But theory is one thing. Living it is another. Just as I learned about civil disobedience in school, EiE became the blueprint for protests that followed. On April 13th, there was a followup protest in Lagos, with young people asking then Governor Babatunde Fashola to tell his colleagues enough is enough! EiE’s greatest strength lay in its deep understanding of its demographic and its strategic use of technology as a tool for civic education, community engagement, and social mobilization.

 

The Unfinished Work

EiE had three major demands:

1. An increase of national electricity by 6,000 megawatts.
2. The resignation or removal of President Yar’Adua.
3.  An end to the fuel crisis.

While time has overtaken some of these demands, President Umaru Yar’adua later died in office. Nigeria is still far from Uhuru.

 

Beyond the Protest

EiE infused fresh and innovative ideas into governance. Concepts like the ‘Office of the Citizen’ and #RSVP (Register, Select, Vote, Protect) were novel in the age of social media. But beyond slogans, EiE proved that youth activism could hold governments accountable and that it could drive the conversation around social change.

What began as a protest became an enduring movement—one that challenged the system and compelled a shift in governance. EiE proved that young Nigerians were no longer content to be spectators in their own country. The comrades-in-arms, ‘Yemi Ademolekun, Chude Jideonwo, Debola Williams, Cheta Nwanze, Chioma Agwuegbo, Abang Mercy, ‘Gbenga Sesan, Amara Nwapa, Ohima Amaize, Ijeoma Okeagu, Shade Ladipo, Michaela Moye, and all others who followed this path. Take your flowers. 

And when my children ask what I did for Nigeria, I will tell them about that day in March, when we stood at the gates of power and refused to be ignored. When we said, loudly and clearly:

Enough is Enough.

---