Why They Need You to Believe Nothing Can Change
Today I randomly stumbled on a new word.
Egregore.
A thing created by collective belief, repeated emotion, ritual, fear, language, obedience, and performance until it begins to behave like a living force.
It’s more than just a word. It’s a whole thesis. And the more I read the more it dawned on me.
That is Nigeria.
Not Nigeria the land.
Not Nigeria the people.
Not Nigeria the languages, the music, the food, the markets, the gardens, the grandmothers, the children, the stubborn brilliance, the laughter, the beauty, the survival.
No.
I mean Nigeria the spell.
Nigeria the emotional programme.
Nigeria the shame machine.
Nigeria the fear economy.
Nigeria the theatre of power.
Nigeria the place where harm is repeated until it starts to feel like destiny.
That Nigeria is an egregore.
When I say that, I do not figuratively mean some mysterious miasma floating above us.
I mean a system of repeated lies, fears, habits, rituals, excuses, and performances that trains Nigerians to accept suffering as normal.
I mean politicians who steal public money and then give the poor rice.
I mean pastors and imams who bless corrupt power instead of confronting it.
I mean schools that endanger children and then dismiss parents who complain.
I mean families that shame women and protect abusive men.
I mean citizens who know the truth but say, “leave it,” because truth has become dangerous.
That is the Nigerian spirit I am naming an egregore.
It is fed every time someone says:
“Nothing will change.”
“Leave it for God.”
“Who sent you?”
“Don’t make trouble.”
“Na your papa own?”
“That is how Nigeria is.”
“At least they gave us rice.”
“Manage it.”
“Be grateful.”
“Don’t disgrace the family.”
“Respect your elders.”
“Women talk too much.”
“Children are resilient.”
“God will protect them.”
“That is the way it is meant to be.”
This is not ordinary language.
This is ritual language.
It trains obedience.
It teaches the poor to lower their expectations.
It teaches women to swallow insult.
It teaches children to survive adult neglect.
It teaches citizens to fear public power instead of commanding it.
It teaches victims to become quiet so perpetrators can remain comfortable.
And the people who benefit from this spell understand ritual very well.
They wear white.
They sit in churches.
They kneel in mosques.
They pour libation in secret.
They summon marabouts.
The consult prophets.
They attend crusades.
They sponsor prayer breakfasts.
They distribute rice.
They print their faces on bags.
They dance at rallies.
They wave brooms, umbrellas, flags, caps, wrappers, colours, slogans, songs.
They understand symbols.
They understand repetition.
They understand mass emotion.
They understand that if you can control what people fear, what people repeat, what people believe, and what people expect, you can control what they accept.
Just last week, Remi Tinubu used the language of the spell in plain sight.
She spoke of “hope” and grants, and told struggling Nigerians that akara, roasted corn, and kuli-kuli do not take much money to start. Deploying the language of Hope to shrink citizens expectations.
But listen carefully.
The insult is not to akara.
The insult is not to roasted corn.
The insult is not to kuli-kuli.
These are honest foods, made by honest hands, sold by hardworking people.
The insult is that a ruling class can destroy the economy, shrink opportunity, deepen hunger, and then offer micro-survival as national vision.
They do not say: here is industry.
They do not say: here is affordable power.
They do not say: here are safe schools.
They do not say: here is healthcare, transport, justice, security, and jobs.
They say: start small.
Yes, we know how to start small.
But Nigerians have been starting small for generations while our rulers steal big.
They do not only steal money.
They steal imagination.
They do not only capture the state.
They capture possibility.
They need you to believe Nigeria cannot change because that belief is one of the pillars holding up their shrine.
But here is the thing about spells.
They can be broken.
Not by shouting alone.
Not by prayer alone.
Not by vibes alone.
Not by waiting for a saviour.
A spell is broken by naming it.
A spell is broken by refusing its language.
A spell is broken by evidence.
A spell is broken by memory.
A spell is broken when people stop begging and start demanding.
A spell is broken when citizens stop whispering and start asking:
Who is responsible?
Where is the money?
Where is the policy?
Where is the safe school report?
Where is the safety plan?
Where is the emergency protocol?
Who signed?
Who failed?
Who benefited?
Who must answer?
That is why they hate questions.
Questions break enchantment.
Records break enchantment.
Women in formation break enchantment.
Children protected in public break enchantment.
And social media, for all its madness, can become a counter-ritual. A hashtag can feed fear, yes. But it can also feed memory. It can feed refusal. It can feed witness. It can gather scattered people into one voice and say:
We saw.
We know.
We remember.
We are not afraid.
We are not alone.
We are not eating your rice and calling it governance.
We are not accepting your prayer as policy.
We are not sacrificing our children to your incompetence.
We are not calling our hunger a blessing.
We are not calling our silence peace.
Nigeria as a malevolent egregore says: submit.
The counter-egregore says: name it.
Nigeria says: manage it.
The counter-egregore says: document it.
Nigeria says: who sent you?
The counter-egregore says: the children sent us.
Nigeria says: nothing will happen.
The counter-egregore says: something has already begun.
So today’s sermon is simple.
Stop feeding the spirit of helplessness.
Stop repeating the language of defeat.
Stop treating corruption as weather.
Stop treating wickedness as culture.
Stop treating incompetence as fate.
Stop calling public failure “the will of God.”
God did not steal the budget.
God did not ignore the policy.
God did not remove the emergency exits.
God did not hire the untrained guard.
God did not turn off the lights.
God did not tell the school to endanger children.
God did not tell the politician to feed you stolen rice.
Human beings did that.
And human beings can be made to answer.
The land is watching.
The ancestors are watching.
The children are watching.
And this time, we are watching back.
Every Sunday, I will return to decode one symbol, one shame ritual, one political performance, one manipulation pattern, and offer one counter-action for breaking the spell.
I am Lesley Agams and this is Sunday, Nkwo, 28 June 2026. YOML 12695. At least.
#LesleysSundaySermon #RitualLiteracy #CounterEgregore #BreakTheSpell #MzAgams #NaijaByNature #Nigeria #NigeriaDecides #NigeriaDecides2027 #WelcomeToTheJungle
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