By Tony Okafor
And they said one to another, Behold, this dreamer cometh.— Genesis 37:19
There is a peculiar pain in being rejected by strangers, but a deeper one in being opposed by those who share your blood, heritage and ancestral roots.
The wound is deeper still when rejection comes not because you have committed an offence, but because your dreams have become uncomfortable to those who should understand you best.
The story of Joseph remains one of the most powerful illustrations of this tragedy.
Joseph’s brothers were not strangers. They shared the same father, family history and heritage. Yet jealousy blinded them to their brotherhood.
When Joseph approached them, they did not see a brother to protect; they saw a dreamer whose ambitions irritated them. Their response was chilling: “Behold, this dreamer cometh.”
They threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery. They preferred to destroy his prospects rather than consider that his dreams might serve a purpose beyond their understanding.
Centuries later, the names and circumstances have changed, but human nature remains remarkably familiar.
Today , we have witnessed the emergence of a man whose message of accountability, prudent management and political renewal captured the imagination of millions, especially young Nigerians yearning for a different kind of leadership. Remarkably, some of the sharpest attacks against this “dreamer” have come from within his own community.
No individual is above criticism. Every public figure must answer questions about competence, policies and past performance. But there is a difference between constructive criticism and a relentless desire to pull down, diminish or discredit a man simply because his ambition challenges established interests.
When legitimate disagreement becomes personal hostility, we must ask: Are we opposing his ideas, or are we merely uncomfortable with the possibility that he might succeed?
The tragedy of Joseph’s brothers was not merely that they sold him, but that they allowed jealousy to destroy the bond that should have united them. They mistook his dreams for a threat and their resentment for wisdom.
A son of the soil need not enjoy unanimous support to aspire to national leadership, just as his ambition does not make him infallible. The proper response is to examine his record, scrutinise his proposals and challenge his shortcomings with facts, not malice.
Joseph’s story took an unexpected turn. The brother sold into slavery rose to a position of authority in Egypt and became instrumental in saving lives during a famine. Those who had dismissed his dreams eventually stood before him in need.
His experience offers a timeless lesson: those who oppose a dreamer do not necessarily determine the destiny of his dream.
As Joseph declared in Genesis 50:20, “Ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good.”
This is not to suggest that every embattled politician is Joseph or that every critic is driven by jealousy. Rather, it is a call for honest reflection on how envy, rivalry and narrow interests can poison relationships and distort judgement.
The greatest shame is not that a brother dreams beyond his family’s expectations, but that his own brothers would rather see him in a pit than on a platform.
History is rarely kind to those who allow resentment to silence reason. A community that cannot debate its differences without tearing down its own sons risks becoming an obstacle to the very progress it seeks.
