Why Nigerians Need a National Day of Rest

I have reached a conclusion after years of careful observation, unsolicited advice from uncles, and surviving Monday mornings in Lagos: Nigerians deserve a National Day of Rest.

Not because we're lazy. Far from it.

We simply spend an extraordinary amount of energy surviving things that shouldn't require energy in the first place.

Think about it.

Before arriving at work, the average Nigerian has already battled traffic, negotiated transport fares, checked whether there is fuel, prayed that electricity didn't disappear overnight, confirmed that their bank app is working, and answered three messages asking, "Where are you?" from people who are not where they claimed to be either.

By 9 a.m., we've completed what would qualify as an Olympic decathlon in several countries.

A National Day of Rest would therefore not be a public holiday. It would be a national recovery programme.

On this sacred day, nobody should call to ask for urgent favours. No landlord should remember rent. No group admin should post "Good morning, family." No office WhatsApp group should suddenly discover an "urgent assignment."

Even motivational speakers should observe silence.

Government agencies must also participate. No website should request that we "try again later." No customer care representative should place anyone on hold for forty-seven minutes before saying, "Your call is important to us."

The rules would be simple: wake up late without guilt, ignore every unknown number, and spend at least six uninterrupted hours doing absolutely nothing productive.

Naturally, some Nigerians would still organise meetings to discuss how best to rest. Committees would be formed. Attendance sheets would circulate. Someone would suggest creating a subcommittee on strategic relaxation.

Which is exactly why we need the holiday. Not to celebrate work.

But to recover from the remarkable full-time job of being Nigerian.