Just a few months after passing out of the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), media personality Raye reportedly acquired a Mercedes-Benz worth millions of naira.
The report, first broken on the Facebook page of Instablog9ja, a popular social media platform, quoted Raye, who posed proudly beside the ribbon-decorated vehicle, as saying, “I prayed for my first, not my last, and God delivered. Last month, I got my first car, and I am still over the moon. Grateful for God’s blessings and grace every day.”
At first glance, it looked like yet another success story — a young woman celebrating her achievement and thanking God. But as I read the post, I must confess, something stirred inside me. It wasn’t quite bitterness, but it wasn’t joy either.
Perhaps a mix of admiration and envy. Call it jealousy, and you won’t be far from the truth. Like many people, I pray to God for my own blessings, to someday own a car, build a home, and live comfortably. So, when someone just fresh out of NYSC drives home in a Mercedes, the human part of me questions: How?
But no, this is not about envy. My real concern lies elsewhere, in the silent but dangerous ripple effect such news stories create, especially among young people. In today’s Nigeria, where social media is both a mirror and a stage, the line between motivation and pressure has blurred. For every Raye who genuinely celebrates a milestone, there are hundreds of silent youths scrolling through their phones, feeling smaller, less accomplished, and even depressed because life seems to be leaving them behind.
Who knows how many of Raye’s age mates, after seeing that post, would sigh in frustration or whisper to themselves, “God, when?” Some may begin to question their own worth, wondering what they are doing wrong. Others may take the darker path; cutting corners, chasing fast money, or seeking validation through any means possible just to “belong.”
And then, within the same week, another story caught my attention — the one about the Edo State Governor refusing to approve the documents for an underage boy who had bought a large expanse of land with cash. It was a bold move, and one that deserves commendation. It showed that leadership, when guided by conscience, can still draw a line between success and suspicion. Because truth be told, we are raising a generation that glorifies wealth without asking questions about its source.
Today, the race for material acquisition has become madness. We live in a time where moral values are eroding faster than ice under the sun. Young people, barely out of secondary school, now dream not of education or purpose but of “blowing”, that nebulous slang for sudden, unexplainable wealth. Many no longer care how the money comes, so long as they can show it off on Instagram with hashtags like #GraceFoundMe or #GodDid.
Parents, too, have become complicit, sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes out of greed. We have mothers who defend their children’s suspicious lifestyles with statements like, “Na God dey do am,” and fathers who silently enjoy the proceeds of their children’s shady deals. Society celebrates the rich, not the righteous. We clap for those who “make it,” not those who earn it.
Yet, when you peel back the glamour, the truth stares you in the face — a growing moral crisis disguised as success. It is time we start asking hard questions. How does a young graduate, barely a year out of school, afford a car worth tens of millions? How does a teenager buy plots of land in cash?
If we must reclaim our sanity as a nation, we must stop normalising this warped definition of success. True success is not in what we flaunt, but in what we build through honest work, perseverance, and integrity. The Governor of Edo State, by rejecting that land transaction, sent a strong message that should resonate across Nigeria: wealth must have a story, and that story must make sense.
We cannot continue to turn a blind eye while our youth are drowning in the illusion of instant success. The cost of this moral decay is already showing in the rise of cybercrime, ritual killings, and the worship of money over merit. The same society that cheers today’s “hustlers” will cry tomorrow when their greed births insecurity and bloodshed.
As a people, we must begin to value process over result, character over cash, and purpose over popularity. Parents must once again become moral anchors, teachers must inspire discipline, and the media must stop glorifying questionable success stories that only fuel unhealthy comparisons.
To Raye and others like her, there is nothing wrong with celebrating one’s blessings. But as you share your joy, remember that not everyone watching you online understands your story.
Some are vulnerable, broken, and desperate for validation. Be responsible with your influence. Success without humility breeds resentment; wealth without explanation breeds suspicion.
We must all learn to see success not as a spectacle, but as a journey — one that requires patience, honesty, and grace. The problem is not that Raye bought a car; it is that our society has forgotten how to separate success that inspires from success that pressures.
In the end, life is not a race to the next big thing. It is a marathon of purpose. And in that marathon, speed does not define victory, direction does.
