Something happened last week in Nigeria. Maybe you saw it. Maybe you shared it for a moment, a story, a headline, a voice note forwarded in a WhatsApp group before the algorithm buried it under the next trending thing. Children taken. Again. A teacher was killed. Worshippers were massacred in a place they believed was sacred. Again. And then — silence. Not the heavy, grieving kind of silence that demands something. The other kind. The kind where everyone moves on. There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes not from fighting, but from witnessing. From watching tragedy after tragedy play out on a screen, in a headline, in a voice note someone sends with a sad emoji, and then nothing. Nothing changes. Nobody is held accountable. The news cycle spins, swallows the horror, and spits out something lighter, something easier to consume. And slowly, without us even noticing — we stopped feeling the weight of it. I want to ask you something, and I want you to sit with it honestly: When was the last time a tragedy in this country broke you? Not for a day. Not for an afternoon. But truly broke you, changed something in you, made you unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to pretend that everything was fine? Because if you're being honest, you probably can't remember. And that terrifies me. What we are experiencing is not indifference. I refuse to believe we are a people without hearts. But there is something that happens to the human spirit when it is forced to absorb grief over and over again without resolution, without justice, without change. It shuts down. It protects itself. Psychologists call it compassion fatigue. I call it the slow death of our collective conscience. We were not always like this. There was a time when a single missing child would paralyze a community. When a death — especially a senseless, preventable one — would be mourned beyond the moment, would be spoken about in hushed tones for months, would demand a reckoning. Now? We share. We react with a broken heart emoji. We say "this country" under our breath like a prayer we no longer believe in. And we scroll. We scroll to the drama. To the celebrity gossip. To the politician's gaffe that has everyone typing furiously as if it matters. To the things that feel manageable, small and loud and safely distant from the kind of pain that requires something of us. #EidUIAdha #EidMubarak #Nigeria