I remember standing before my grandmother as a child, watching her grind pepper on a stone slab under the morning sun.
Each time the dust rose, she would pause, cough softly, and say, “Ọ̀fun mi ń gbóná, ṣùgbọ́n kò sí ohun tí a lè sọ̀rọ̀ láì lo ọ̀fun.” (My throat burns, but no one can speak without a throat.)
Back then, I didn’t understand. But today, after years of studying the fragile relationship between man and his environment, I finally do.
“Ẹnu lò n sọ̀rọ̀, ṣùgbọ́n ọ̀fun ni ń gbé ẹnu soke.” (The mouth speaks, but it is the throat that lifts the voice).
That saying was not just about the human body; it was about existence itself.
Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, elders, colleagues, and friends, Today, I speak on Ona Òfún – The Throat.
Ònà Òfún – The Throat: is life’s narrow path. It is where breath, voice, and nourishment meet.
It is the passage that feeds the body, yet it can also choke it. And so, I ask: What is Nigeria swallowing through her throat today?
What enters our national system, our economy, our policies, our values, through that fragile passage of survival?
The throat of a nation is its economy.
When it is healthy, ideas flow freely, innovation breathes, and citizens thrive.
But when it is blocked by corruption, poor governance, or environmental neglect, the entire body of the nation struggles for air.
We are that nation today, breathing unevenly. Our rivers, once sources of life, now carry plastic and oil.
Our forests, once homes of abundance, now echo with silence. We have turned the generosity of nature into an unending hunger for profit.
The Yoruba will say, “Àìmọye ohun tí ọ̀fun jẹ ni ń di ọ̀fun mu.” (It is what the throat swallows without caution that causes choking.)
We have swallowed oil wealth without discipline, debt without wisdom, and pollution without guilt.
Now the Earth, like a weary mother, whispers to us: Enough.
But there is still hope.
The throat is also the path of renewal, if we choose carefully what we feed it.
If we feed our nation with justice, sound environmental policy, and fair economic growth, the same throat that once choked us can heal us.
Environmental economics is not just about numbers; it is about nourishment, feeding people without starving the planet.
Every tree saved is a debt avoided. Every clean river is a hospital bill prevented. Every solar panel is a promise kept to the next generation.
My people, Ònà Òfún teaches us balance. Too little, and we starve. Too much, and we suffocate. Wisdom lies not in swallowing everything, but in knowing when to stop.
So today, as I stand before you, no longer a student, but a custodian of knowledge, I dedicate my journey to healing the Earth’s throat.
Let us feed her gently, speak through her truthfully, and listen before her silence becomes permanent.
Because when the throat of the Earth closes, every human voice becomes a whisper.
Oluwatobi Ojabello, senior economic analyst at BusinessDay.
