By Prof. Pastor Qrisstuberg Msughter Amua
Today, we stand on our feet in a land bruised but not broken, where the fertile soil ‘once cried’ from the footprints of neglected promises, and the River Benue and its many tributaries sang of ancient glory now shadowed by communal and national doubt; where arises an *audacity.* Not of arrogance. Not of noise. But the audacity of a dream. The renaissance and re-ignition of many young dreamers. The audacity of our faith. And if ever there was a moment to declare it with the unflinching voice of prophecy, it is now.
Benue, the green cradle of Nigeria’s agricultural soul, has long been mocked by a paradox: wealth beneath her feet, free flowing in her cascading rivers that christen her the freshwater capital of Nigeria’s arable land; but poverty at her table. Her people, gifted with a historic resilience of 1804 and beyond, have tilled the earth with bleeding palms and gazed into uncertain skies hoping for when God sends rain; not just of water, but of much sought-after justice, of the vision of visionaries, and of leadership – that firm stimulus of real, sublime development.
But what if I told you that the dream is not dead?
But what if I told you that the spirit of the land still rumbles beneath the cracked heels of her farmers the broken pens of her teachers, and the fertile minds of her intelligent young minds?
What if I told you that Benue is not waiting for permission from expired sleepers, naysayers and ‘couldn’t sees’ anymore?
Because, you see, dreaming in Benue was an act of rebellion. A publicly vilified defiance against the orchestrated limitations imposed by years of bureaucratic betrayal and leadership absenteeism. Today we much turn the tables, change the narratives to the refusal to accept that the Benue child must not thrive, not succeed; that the Benue mother must beg to eat, that the Benue father must be subservient to exist, not to even contemplate to live.
No! The Benue Dream is not some poetic indulgence of the weak. It is the drumbeat of a people who have seen fire, who have walked through it, and who have emerged with charred faith but that still glows, not dies. It is the prophetic imagination and aspiration that dares to plant again; the sorghum, the yams, the knowledge, and the courage – of which past harvests were eaten by orchestrated infamy – stolen by local cynicism, national greed and international betrayal.
This Dream is not anchored in fantasy. It is moored to Faith, hope and love; not the kind peddled in just slogans and ceremonies, but the kind that builds bridges where there are many rivers, the kind that speaks light out of darkness and refuses to retreat. The faith that stands tall atop the Vandeikya – Kwande Hills and stretches its arms like the Katsina-Ala – Benue Rivers: deep, strong, unrelenting.
The audacity of the Benue Dream is the farmer who teaches his child the real soil science with no degree. It is the girl in Konshisha, Oju, Agatu, Tarka, Apa, Logo who codes solutions on a second-hand phone. It is the mother in Gboko, Ogbadibo, Ukum, Gwer-West, Ushongo who feeds ten from a broken calabash, whispering hope over every meal.
It is in our institutions, now rising – the University of Agriculture, Science and Technology, Ihugh – not as another structure of salaried job-seekers but as a citadel of minds; it is in the Benue Swine/Crop Improvement projects, where young people now raise pigs and purpose in the same breath. It is in our governor, *Rev. Fr. Dr. Hyacinth Iormem Alia,* a paradox of the cloth and courage, of priesthood and political precision; who dares to govern with a shepherd’s conscience and an architect’s vision.
The Benue Dream today is bold because it has no choice. We cannot afford to be timid in the face of structural and systemic poverty, leadership ambushes, and environmental aggression. We must shout our Dream from the sacred groves of Ihugh to the crimson sunsets of Ohimini: that this land will no longer be a footnote to the development stories of other peoples and distant lands.
Let Abuja hear. Let Lagos watch. Let Addis-Ababa receive. Let the world see.
We are no longer the silenced food basket begging for crumbs.
We are the seeds of Benue’s own renaissance, bursting through the alluvial-clay banks of the famous River Benue, watered by Faith and fertilized by fierce determination.
So, I write not to impress, but to ignite.
I speak not to soothe, but to summon.
Let the young Benue mind rise with a green vision in their eyes. Let the old Benue sceptic dare to dream again, without shame. Let this Benue of Our Dream dare to imagine, aspire, innovate, create to stand up – not just for what she is, but for what she refuses to stop believing she can become.
For this is The Audacity of the Benue Dream. This is the Audacity of Our Faith.
And we, Benue sons and daughters, are its most terrific custodians.
Terrific, because we still believe.
Even now.
Even here.
Even in the so-called nadir of the Benue Valley.
Even after everything.
*– Prof. Pastor Qrisstuberg Msughter Amua*
_Pioneer Vice-Chancellor, University of Agriculture, Science and Technology, Ihugh_
