Our journey begins in Nigeria’s Red Chamber, the Senate.

Akpabio’s gaffe

While Nigeria’s Senate President, Godswill Akpabio, may have reached the apex of his political career, it seems he is still looking to outdo himself by how deep in trouble he can put himself in. We haven’t forgotten his public confession when as the Minister of the Niger Delta, he fingered members of the House of Representatives (HOR) whom he claimed benefitted from some lucrative contracts. It took the intervention of one of them on live TV to beg Akpabio to “off his mic” to stop him from incriminating everyone. 

Akpabio, described as an “uncommon” senator, has promised to run an uncommon Senate. As he’s learning rather quickly, uncommon can become unpopular in a jiffy. In a viral video from a plenary session during the week, Akpabio asked the Senate to vote on a prayer to “let the poor breathe”. The manner of delivery, which appeared to be mocking, didn’t sit well with Nigerians. They lashed out at the uncommon senator.

The office of the Senate President had to issue a press release. It clarified that it was a “harmless statement” based on a motion moved by another senator to halt the electricity tariff hike.

Nigerians aren’t smiling during this period. The last thing they need is a legislature that makes fun of their plight. Let’s hope Akpabio has learned his lesson.

Tinubu’s ministerial list

President Tinubu’s ministerial list finally reached the public and was met with mixed reactions. Early observations indicated that the list had just 28 names. The names were also weighted in favour of career politicians ahead of technocrats. No portfolios were attached to them either, which is unusual. Tinubu’s Chief of Staff, Femi Gbajabiamila, said it was intentional. Here’s how he explained it to the press:

“So many of these things have merits and demerits, advantages and disadvantages. I like the idea of attaching portfolios. I do because it makes it necessary for the Senate to know exactly what you’re asking and looking for.

But for now, it’s been thought wise that we stick to the tradition of sending the names and then, while the screening processes are going on, allow Mr. President and his team to look at the portfolios and the characters and see how they fit.

The first step that he has done is that these people can work wherever you put them. Except in specialized fields like attorney general and what have you. But in the main time, he believes most of them can fit in anywhere.”

Constitutional lawyer, Festus Ogun, isn’t having any of that.

The Senate plans to begin screening on Monday. It’ll be curious to observe how that plays out. 

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All hail the Super Falcons

[Osinachi Ohale and Onome Ebi celebrate at the full-time whistle. Photograph: Bradley Kanaris/Getty Images]

By the time you read this, at least two days will have elapsed since the events of that heroic night on July 27 in Brisbane, Australia. Nigeria’s female national team, the Super Falcons, beat Australia with a 3-2 score at the ongoing FIFA Women’s World Cup.

Football unites Nigerians more than anything, and for those 100+ minutes of that engaging contest, Nigerians went through all the motions together. 

The match stats tell an exciting story. 

For the most part, the Australians had control of the ball and dominated early proceedings. Nigeria, which had a solid defense for most of the game, conceded first in the 45th minute. The atmosphere was rapturous, and it looked like we would head into half-time with a loss. But the antifragile Super Falcons had different ideas.

In what was effectively the last kick of the first half after 5 minutes of added time, Uchenna Kanu scored a wonderful goal—a combination of good play and a fortuitous deflection. Cue the reactions from Nigerians halfway across the world.

1-1, halftime.

By the second half, our ladies were amped. In the 65th minute, our star striker, Asisat Oshoala, was introduced to the pitch. You could hear the palpable silence in the stadium, almost as if the Australians could foretell the pain that was to come. 

Osinachi Ohale put us ahead a minute later, despite getting a heavy knock in the process. 

2-1, Nigeria.

Oshoala tormented the Australian backline and got her reward in the 72nd minute after a mixup in the Australian defense allowed her to score a brilliant goal from a wide angle. Taking off her shirt in celebration may have earned her a yellow card, but the iconic celebration will live long in the memory of Nigerians. 

3-1, Nigeria.

[Asisat Oshoala of Nigeria celebrates after scoring her team’s third goal. (Photo by Justin Setterfield/Getty Images)]

Her goal made her the first African woman to score at three World Cups. She previously scored in 2019 and 2015. And while the Australians managed to pull one back deep into stoppage time, Nigeria, led by coach Randy Waldrum, emerged triumphant with three goals and three points.

3:2, Nigeria. FT.

The result leaves us at the top of the table and in a good position to make the next round. A draw in our last game against already-eliminated Ireland would be enough. This is remarkable, given the team’s issues leading up to the showpiece. 

Allegations of misappropriation, delayed payments, and a war of words between Waldrum and the Nigerian Football Federation (NFF) led many to fear the worst. But after a resilient showing against Olympic champion Canada, where we earned a point, there was some hope that the girls might be up to something, and they delivered in fine fashion.

Whatever they do going forward, the Super Falcons deserve our utmost respect for acting professionally and bringing joy to the faces of millions of Nigerians. As always, we will be cheering them on and hope they have fun doing what they do best.

Nigeria’s next match is on Monday, July 31, at 11 a.m.

The school said it consulted with stakeholders, including students and their guardians, before making this decision. Interestingly, UNILAG describes itself as “the school of first choice and the nation’s pride.” However, with the increment set to happen at the beginning of the 2023/2024 academic session, students may have to rethink whether they’d still stick with UNILAG as their first choice.

Here’s what fees look like now for new undergraduate students:

And here’s what fees look like for returning undergraduate students:

For comparison, previous fees for new undergraduate students were around ₦55,000, while returning students paid ₦15,000. While tuition remains free, the other mandatory expenses have gone up considerably. Understandably, the news has sparked strong reactions online.

What are the arguments in favour?

One major issue that has plagued public tertiary institutions is the lack of funding. You can draw a straight line between every strike that has occurred since the beginning of time and challenges relating to poor remuneration for staff and underfunding, leading to a paucity of research and development. 

ASUU has argued for university autonomy, allowing institutions to raise funds for themselves rather than being overly dependent on government subventions. And although ASUU didn’t sanction this increase, it’s hard to see them argue against it. Some say Nigerian tertiary education is too subsidised and don’t consider the new fees expensive.

According to Deborah Tolu-Kolawole, who covers Nigerian tertiary education extensively, the hike in fees was inevitable. In a series of tweets, she explained that schools were struggling to stay afloat, with the federal government unwilling to release more funds.

She notes that for now, some subsidy is still in place, as evidenced by the zero cost of tuition. She warned that there will be more increments once full autonomy is granted to universities. This is where the Student Loan Act will come into play.

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What are the arguments against it?

In economics, a public good is a commodity or service made available to all members of society. Typically, these services are administered by governments and paid for collectively through taxation.

A 2018 paper by the UNESCO Chair on Human Rights and Ethics of International Cooperation, Rita Locatelli, argues that education should be a public good in light of “current trends in the privatisation and marketisation of education.” 

UNESCO recommends 15-20% of public expenditure on education. Nigeria has never met that threshold. 

One in every five of the world’s out-of-school children is in Nigeria. Among those who manage to brave all odds and make it to university, they will now have to contend with this new hurdle of a fee hike. If other public universities follow UNILAG’s example, this will exclude even more students from tertiary education that they can’t afford.

So while we recognise that universities need funding and that education is subsidised in Nigeria, we also recognise that it is for good reason. The timing of this hike in light of economic circumstances is tough to justify, at least on moral grounds. 

As it stands in Nigeria today, the return on investment in education is negative. This is apparent in the fact that many university graduates are unemployed. Hiking fees perpetuate the common Nigerian saying, “School na scam.” If fewer students get access to subsidised education, the outcome for Nigeria could be unpalatable.

In related news in education, the FG recently increased fees in federal government colleges, aka Unity Schools, by 122%. All of these combined will cause human capital development to slide even further. Nigeria’s prospects of leaving the ghetto might become bleak. 

For now, UNILAG students are facing the brunt of it. Other universities are watching, and they will join in sooner or later. At some point, the federal government will have to lift its head out of the sand and intervene, or we could be staring at a full-blown state of emergency in Nigeria’s education sector.

Editorial Note: Navigating Nigeria is a platform for Nigerians to passionately discuss the Nigerian experience with little interference from individual opinions. While our editorial standards emphasise the truth and endeavour to fact-check claims and allegations, we are not responsible for allegations made about other people based on half-truths.

Walk us through your experience

My experience goes back to 2020. I’ve never been one to fall for Ponzi schemes, so when MMM came out and all those other platforms promising to double your money, I never engaged. 

The first investment I lost money to happened via one of my mum’s ex-students who contacted me. He told me his friend ran a business related to forex trading. He told me I’d get my return on investment (ROI), which was 25%, after 25 working days. It didn’t sound too bad, so I said OK.

I put some money into it without telling anyone. After 25 days, I got my investment with interest. I told a friend about it, and he told me he wasn’t convinced and warned me to be careful. I then informed my partner at the time, and he was very upset with me. That didn’t deter me anyway, and I continued putting in money and collecting interest.

You wouldn’t believe this, but this guy kept sending me a memorandum of understanding (MoU), making the whole thing appear legally binding. That made it look legit in my eyes. That was enough to convince my partner, who later came on board. His was even worse because he wasn’t collecting his ROI. He had this weird plan of gathering everything till it became bulky enough and then cashing out large.

Chai

What hurt me, however, was that I’d taken a massive chunk of money I’d been saving for my son for some time and put it into the forex investment. Looking back, these guys changed their names at some point. They also claimed they were into not just forex but real estate and other stuff.

Everything appeared legit, and I told some friends to invest. Gawd. I convinced people to pool their money into this thing. I’m so glad that none of them got mad at me when everything disappeared. They knew that I didn’t intentionally set them up to lose money.

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How did the crash happen?

December 2020 was the last time I cashed out. I wanted to travel to Jos and needed funds to get around, so I took some money out. 

About a week after, my friends who had also invested and wanted to cash out started getting messages that there would be some delay and were panicking. I told them that couldn’t be as I’d cashed out money only a week before. 

One of my friends I’d introduced to the investment kept calling, and I was initially reassuring her that she’d get her money as it was a minor glitch. I contacted my mum’s ex-student, who reassured me that things would be resolved. I’d later find out that he wasn’t even the owner of the business but a third-party trader. The real owner was one popular guy, and I learned they dragged him on Instagram after the whole thing crashed. 

I still had over ₦500k in there, and I began to wish I’d taken every dime out. When January came, I had hopes that they’d resolve the issue. Then February followed. Then March. And then it dawned on me that my money was gone. It became very real to me there and then that my money wasn’t coming back.

With this experience, you’d think I’d be wiser and not make such investments again, right? Wrong.

Ah

This time around, it was my best friend that wooed me into this agritech scheme, Titan Farms. She told me her mum, her sister, and even herself had invested so much money and reaped good returns. This one guaranteed returns after three months; it sounded reasonable. I don’t know what makes me put so much money into these things, but I did. 

I withdrew my money from Piggyvest and funded the app. The reason I did this one was because I’d previously invested in Thrive Agric, which had an 18-month maturity period with 19% ROI. I didn’t like it because my money waited so long with little interest. 

Anyway, I invested in them. Three months passed, and then I started receiving apologies that payment was coming late.

Wahala

They had a website. I tried to log in, but a prompt appeared saying that the website didn’t exist. They basically shut down, and I didn’t get my money back. Despite following up with them and sending multiple emails, nothing came out of it. They claimed to have paid investors, but it was all a lie—fraudulent people.

I’m sorry this had to happen to you twice. What is your takeaway from it all?

I’ve been twice bitten. If anybody comes to talk to me about investment, I’ll beat them up. However, I’ll admit that I wasn’t educated about how to invest money. Recently, I attended a finance seminar, and the person who spoke to us hammered on the point that before investing in anything, make sure you’re literate about finance. 

When investing, I didn’t have complete information and wasn’t aware of the risk attached to the things I was putting my money in. So my biggest takeaway was being financially sound about investing. Even with legitimate businesses, there are risks involved. One has to know how much is too much so it doesn’t backfire horribly. I’ve not dabbled in any investments since then. For now, I’m focused on gaining more financial literacy. Maybe I can have another go when that is in place.

Almost three months later, Soyinka is in another fight. This time, not on social media, but in faraway Kwara and its emirate capital, Ilorin.

So what’s the gist?

Punch reported that a Muslim group, Majlisu Shabab li Ulamahu Society, based in Ilorin, went to the home of an Osun priestess, Yeye Ajesikemi Olokun Omolara Olatunji. They warned her not to host a festival known as Isese in the state. It was reported that she released posters announcing a three-day event in celebration of Yoruba deities.

Ilorin is an emirate. It’s ruler is Alhaji Ibrahim Sulu Gambari. In reaction to the group’s activities, a spokesperson for the Emir said the Emir supported their actions. Although the spokesperson stated that Gambari did not send them, he added that the Emir made it public that no idolatry activities should be held in the Ilorin Emirate.

His words: “The Emir has made it public that he’s not in support. He’s warned them to stay away from Kwara or Ilorin Emirate. So, any group that shares the same view and opinion with His Royal Highness can also come out and then do such, which the group you just mentioned now has done.”

Essentially, the Emir thinks Yeye’s actions constitute idolatry. According to Gambari, that has never happened in Ilorin and would be heavily resisted should it be attempted.

Somehow, the news got to Soyinka, which made him angry enough to write a strongly-worded op-ed directed at Gambari.

How did Soyinka respond?

[Prof Wole Soyinka / The Cable]

Soyinka described Gambari’s actions as a “grievous insult to our race.” He said he teaches courses in another Emirate, Abu Dhabi, in the UAE. Soyinka said it allows festivals from different religions to occur without hindrance. He wondered why the opposite was the case back in Nigeria. He criticised Gambari’s stance for impeding the right to embrace our humanity, reflected in how we celebrate different worldviews. Soyinka called on the Emir to rein in the “agents of division” before closing with the following:

“There is a thin line between Power and Piety. Call Yeye Ajasikemi OIokun Omolara to your side. Make peace with her and make restitution in whichever way you can for this grievous insult to our race. We know the history of Ilorin and the trajectory of your dynasty — but these are not the issues. The issue is peaceful cohabitation, respect for other worldviews, their celebrations, their values and humanity. The issue is the acceptance of the multiple facets of human enlightenment.

The greatest avatars that the world has known were not without human frailties, flaws, and errors of understanding. You are NOT Omniscient. And you are not Omnipotent.”

How has Emir Gambari reacted?

[Emir Sulu Gambari / PM News]

The Emir hasn’t taken things lightly. In a statement signed by his spokesman on July 7, he said Soyinka was being “economical with the facts”. The statement said Soyinka’s claim that Gambari disallowed festivals was “nauseating” and “uncharitable” to the Ilorin people.

“To set records straight, Professor Wole Soyinka tends to be economical with facts, forgetting that nobody wants war. He decided to settle with a factor capable of causing societal chaos if not quickly averted.

[The Emir’s action] is to prevent crisis and not wait until it erupts. The cost of managing crises cannot be equated to the wisdom or courage required to prevent them. Such proactiveness is necessary to sustain peaceful co-existence in society. It’s, therefore, surprising to hear that the position of Professor Soyinka is identical to someone who does not consider what might transpire if the programme was hosted.

It may result in issues which could also lead to reprisal attacks by sympathisers or promoters of such belief (Isese festival) in other parts of the country.”

The ball is back in Soyinka’s court. While he makes a case for freedom of expression and religion, the Emir’s claim that the people of Ilorin would uniformly resist any such traditional proceedings cannot be ignored either. We’ll see how this plays out in the coming days.

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Editorial Note: Navigating Nigeria is a platform for Nigerians to passionately discuss the Nigerian experience with little interference from individual opinions. While our editorial standards emphasise the truth and endeavour to fact-check claims and allegations, we are not responsible for allegations made about other people based on half-truths.

How long have you been a pilot?

I finished flight school in 2015. So let’s see. That’s technically eight years.

That’s a complete Buhari tenure

Yeah, but then for three of those eight years after flight school, I wasn’t flying.

What happened?

I got sponsored to go to flight school by a company. The plan was that after flight school, I’d start flying with them. They had clients who were in the oil and gas sector. The company trained me to get a helicopter licence. Then oil prices dipped, and those clients weren’t producing as much oil anymore, so there was no reason to fly people offshore frequently. That meant they didn’t need as many pilots as before; it was a trickle-down effect.

I was on the ground for those three years, working in other parts of the company, which I enjoyed. By the beginning of 2018, I decided to get an aeroplane licence to be flexible with employment and open up more job opportunities for me in the aviation industry. The whole thing took about three months because I already had my helicopter licence and needed to meet some other requirements. In aviation there’s this thing called a type rating which is what allows aspiring pilots to navigate and operate larger commercial planes. It’s the standard you need to meet before operating a type of aircraft. You can’t just jump from one aircraft to another. There are lots of other technicalities and rules depending on the country, but I won’t get into them. But this was when I resumed flying aircraft commercially.

Interesting. Tell us, what were your motivations for becoming a pilot?

As a child, I was always fascinated when I looked up to the sky and saw a plane flying. I’d always wonder how the pilots did that. Then, in junior secondary school, JSS 2, I read this passage in an English comprehension book. The beginning of that passage stuck in my head. It went, “Fasten your seatbelts and announce the air hostess, please.” I can’t explain what’s so special about it, but it made me desire to fly a plane. From then on, if anyone asked what I wanted to be, I’d say pilot. Sometimes I’d switch to aeronautic engineer, astronaut, astronomer, or even astrologer lmao. I wasn’t even sure what they did exactly. I just knew I wanted to fly.

And fly, you did

During the holidays, I went to live with an aunt in Abuja. I enrolled in a youth camp. For the part about careers, we had to list ten career choices. The first seven were related to aviation, while I filled out the rest with the usual medicine, law and the like.

After school, one of my mum’s friends advised that I attend university first to have a backup in case my plans to be a pilot didn’t work out. I then pursued a closely related degree in aerospace engineering in Ghana. The first two years were tough. The engineering we did then was just so advanced. I knew there and then that being a pilot just had to work out because omo.

Lmao

Fortunately, some courses dealt directly with aviation, and I excelled there. But things were tough in the beginning.

What was life like during the pandemic?

Initially, there were no flights, but more flights happened when they introduced PCR testing. I flew helicopters during that period, so it affected me a bit. I worked in Port Harcourt, and oil companies weren’t flying often. But we still did some airlifting for a few companies. So I wasn’t grounded, but flights during that period were fewer.

Let’s talk about how you navigate Nigeria. Have there been any peculiarities about flying in Nigeria that are different from flying elsewhere?

So I’ve only flown in Nigeria and the US. Still, I’ll say the lack of basic infrastructure is glaring. You’ll see some things, and you’re like, “Nawa oo, why’s this not here?” or “Why are we managing this?”

For example, runway lights. I did not know that runway lights could spoil. They’re perishable, and since they’re electrical, they could develop faults. But throughout my training, it never occurred that runway lights could go bad, and I’d have to navigate the plane without them. Nigeria exposed me to that reality. 

And we’re talking not days but months or even years where runway lights go bad without being fixed. Everyone accepts that these things aren’t working, and we’re just carrying on like that.

Wow

In Lagos, we have two runways; 1-8 left, which serves domestic flights, and 1-8 right for international flights. Both can serve either flight, but they were sorted that way because of their proximity to their respective terminals. You couldn’t land in 1-8 left at night for a long time because there were no lights.

So you’d have to land on 1-8 right then take a long taxi and then park near the domestic terminal for people to get off. Eventually, they fixed the lights. For the first week, things were working fine. The centre lights were fine, the headlights were fine, touchdown zone light was good. Next thing, half of the centre lights broke down, and the rest followed. Now nothing works. When you’re about to land, you have to start scanning for markings on the runway which are very faint because there’s no light.

I can land without the lights, but what would it take to fix and maintain the existing ones? We have international carriers landing every day, coming from places like Charles de Gaulle and Heathrow, and they see the state of our airports, which is pitiable. Meanwhile, when we go there, we see everything is in good shape.

We can’t go to some airports at night in Nigeria because they don’t have lights. We call them sunset airports because, after sunset, the lights go out.

There have been reports of potholes on runways. Have you experienced those?

Most of those have been fixed. Sometimes you see them when taxiing, and you must avoid them, but they fix them occasionally. So it’s not a permanent solution, but they fix them after a few weeks. I know I saw a notice about potholes in Enugu, but I have yet to experience one personally. I landed in Enugu yesterday and actively searched but didn’t find it, thankfully. Lagos and Abuja have frequent maintenance schedules where the runways are closed for resurfacing. The runway in Ilorin, though, whew. Sometimes you hear weird sounds and see cracks and grass growing on the runway.

What changes would you like to see in Nigeria’s aviation industry?

Generally, the Federal Airport Authority of Nigeria (FAAN) can do better with basic infrastructure. Sometimes you see some structures at airports, and you’re like, “Ok…but what purpose does this serve?” Some airports don’t have approaches, clear markings or adequate lighting. For example, there was a time I went to Port Harcourt. We were sitting on a ramp, waiting. All of a sudden, everywhere went dark. I was confused. They just took out the power, and we couldn’t see anything. 

Pilots should get better pay. We think in dollars. A lot of training, travelling and so on are done in dollars, but we get paid in naira. And the naira isn’t even enough. Everything has finished by the time you convert to naira to meet your needs. When you compare what you earn by dollar conversion to your counterparts abroad, you’ll realise you’re not earning anything.

Have you considered relocating?

Oh yeah. That’s on my to-do list. I’m just trying to settle a few things first. Better pay and a better quality of life factor into my decision.

What advice would you give anyone who wants to go into aviation?

I get that a lot. People generally think you have to be Stephen Hawking to be a pilot. You have to be smart, but you don’t have to be Stephen Hawking smart to fly a plane. 

One of my university lecturers, a flight engineer, said that you must be daft to be a pilot, lol. He’d say you’d be fine if you could read pictures.

Loool

But for real, you need to have the aptitude for it. You also need to work hard and want it. When I say “want it”, I mean it’s not just something you can skim through. It will show if you’re not putting in the work.

I know brilliant people that couldn’t cut it as pilots. It wasn’t because they weren’t smart. They just didn’t get it. You know how some people can’t dance no matter how they try or can’t move to a beat? Being a pilot is sort of like that. You have to have the aptitude for it. You have to want it and work hard. That’s the motivational side of it.

The other thing I’ll say is that flight training is expensive. Some can afford it, so no problem for them. But if you can’t afford it, you want to finish your training quickly. Because that would mean you’re paying less. Usually, flight school charges by the hour when you’re renting their aircraft. Your training is on you. You’re not giving that power to anyone, not even your instructor. 

I mean, you have to be on top of it. You have to say, “This is what we’re doing today. I need to learn this before the next time.” That is, you’re putting in the work before putting in the work. That way, you’re not spending extra hours because extra hours mean extra flights, which means extra time. All that will add up because you’ll pay for accommodation, flights and fuel. I met some people in flight school still training after two years. Like, why?

So put in the work before the instructor comes. Stuff you can do on the ground, do it on the ground. Don’t wait till you get in the air. Own your training so you’re not spending more money than you need to.

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In what has been viral news during the week, a Nigerian, Ifeoma Amuche, studying at a Chinese university, went on to finish as the school’s best-graduating student. As the valedictorian, she delivered a speech over four minutes long in fluent Chinese. If it isn’t apparent, that’s a pretty impressive feat.

Another way to think of it is if a Chinese studied at a Nigerian university and finished as the best-graduating student—while learning in Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo or any of the hundreds of languages spoken in Nigeria. Ifeoma’s feat typifies Nigerian excellence, setting an incredibly high bar.

And now, to the other story. People’s Gazette exclusively reported that two federal civil servants conducted a $76 million heist, the proceeds of which were kept in cold storage at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. The story’s lede reads like vivid imagination—the kind one only daydreams about when struck by severe hunger pangs. Here’s a screenshot below:

The story has several interesting subplots, including the alleged involvement of the disgraced police officer, Abba Kyari, who was alleged to have received kickbacks. You can read the full gist at your own time.

When the story broke, it triggered several reactions, like this one:

Having read through the story, here are a few thoughts:

Buhari’s anti-corruption crusade was a farce

Muhammadu Buhari may be away from power for good, but his terrible legacy remains. He had the option of strengthening our institutions but chose to hinge his initial anti-corruption crusade around the force of his personality. The result? Public officers carted away millions of dollars from government coffers wantonly.

Stealing huge sums is easy. Spending it is hard

It’s one thing to hatch a plan to steal plenty of money. As the last administration showed, that happened a lot. But spending it without leaving a paper trail while still serving in government is very hard. White-collar criminals usually find their way around that by laundering money. We explained here why that’s bad.

They might have gotten away with it

The reason we know about the story goes like this, in summary. Some government workers allegedly stashed $76 million. A driver for one of them thought COVID-19 palliatives were locked up in storage and told his friends, who were scrap metal collectors. These guys came around hoping to get their share of Indomie—recall that this period was when government officials were hoarding palliatives. To their surprise, they broke in successfully and found that what they thought were packs of noodles were stacks of dollar notes. They managed to cart away $4 million, leaving $72 million behind, while the driver himself was unaware. As they say, there’s no honour among thieves.

The government officials found out. They could have chosen to forgo the $4 million but decided to involve the police to recover it. Maybe they feared that they could return to cart more loot. Police managed to recover around $2 million, but long and short, a paper trail had emerged. Would their heist have remained a secret if they’d chosen to count their losses instead? We’d never know.

Something has got to give

If you recall that Nigeria suffered a severe dollar shortage, you’d understand why having $76 million in cash is mind-blowing. But an even bigger question is how these government officials got their hands on it in the first place. This represents the first major corruption case that the current administration has on its hands.

How the investigation will proceed from here on is anyone’s guess. But it would also indicate whether this administration is serious about reforms or if things will remain business as usual. 

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The effect has been a marked increase in fuel costs, which has had ripple effects on the cost of living. On Thursday, June 15, the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) announced that inflation in May rose to 22.41%. The subsidy removal and the subsequent announcement of a unified exchange rate have led experts to suggest that inflation will rise even higher in June.

To gauge the current adaptation of Nigerians to the prevailing circumstances,  Citizen interviewed some of them for this week’s episode of Navigating Nigeria. Here are their thoughts: 

Ola, Analyst at a VC firm

I’m a naturally frugal person who works on a budget. Because I follow the news, I saw the fuel subsidy removal coming, and I understood its implications. I got a solar inverter in May, which powers electronics like my TV, refrigerator, and laptop. I charge the inverter with PHCN’s power supply and switch to it when the power goes off. I did this because I didn’t want to find myself in a situation where I’d have to queue to get fuel for my generator. I’m also a remote worker who has to be online almost 24/7. 

Getting a solar inverter has been one of the best cost-saving measures I’ve done this year. I don’t have a car, so I don’t have to worry about getting fuel for that because I rarely ever go out except for groceries. Speaking of that, I do my shopping in bulk, so there’s no need to visit the mall frequently. My data subscription plan is also in bulk; I pay a yearly data subscription of ₦100k on MTN that gives me one terabyte covering my internet needs.

I don’t eat out either; I make my meals. This one isn’t because of the subsidy removal. I’ve always been like that. It saves cost.

Another way I’ve adapted is to reduce my propensity to order stuff from online vendors. The other day I wanted to get stuff from Instagram, and the vendor told me it cost ₦‎2800, which was fine. Then I asked for the delivery cost, and she told me it was ₦2200. She told me the high delivery cost was because of the subsidy. I backed out because it made no sense to me. So yeah, these are the measures I’ve taken to readjust to life after the government removed the subsidy.

Itome, Business Analyst

For me, there are some essentials I can’t do without. Data is one of them, and that’s a non-negotiable, and I always make provision for that

Because my cost of living has increased, I go out only when necessary. I only use Bolt for significant outings. I take public transport most of the time.

To manage fuel, I turn on my generator when I need to charge my laptop and turn it off once my gadgets are fully charged. That’s how I’ve been managing.

Juliet, Banker

Cooking your food saves a lot. It’s much cheaper to cook at home and take your food to work than to buy food regularly. Imagine if my hubby and I buy food at work every day, plus our children. It would be very expensive. I also buy non-perishable food items in bulk.

Ilamosi, Sales Manager

Going out is the only thing I’ve cut down on. I barely go out now. Before the fuel subsidy removal, I’d be outside and come to work frequently. But now, with the hike in cab prices, it’s hard to leave my house. I’m now an introvert.

The cost of living has turned me into a home buddy. I’ve even reduced the way I order food. Usually, you’d find me on Chowdeck. Now? I cook. Dem no dey tell person twice.

Eloho, General Contractor

Regarding data, I use Fibre One wifi. It’s still cheap at the moment. For food, I made some bulk purchases before the inflation kicked in. I’ve not made any significant purchases afterwards.

Transportation is one area I’ve felt the pinch. Prices just dey surprise me every time. I use buses more than before to cope and only use Uber when necessary. I’m no longer shy of asking for Uber fare if my stepping out is doing someone a favour. I calculate in advance to reduce unnecessary trips

Regarding electricity, yesterday was the longest we ever ran my generator, which was babe-motivated. (Not my babe o, my brother’s babe). So far, our devices are charged, and we don’t run the generator like before. Before now, we’d put on the generator at the slightest inconvenience of heat. I go to places with better electricity to work instead of burning fuel.  

Generally, I now think more business-wise, figuring out how every relationship can become financially beneficial to everyone. I make myself more available and render help to anyone

On a personal note, knowing the principle of giving makes giving more conscious. I budget a little daily, as much as possible, and look for the needy. It’s not just because of love but as part of my financial strategy because by giving, you receive more (not from the person you gave to, lol).

Shola, Oil and Gas Worker

I didn’t care about the fuel price until the subsidy removal. Now, I don’t buy full-tank like before. I only buy enough for the week. It cost about ₦32k to fill my car’s tank. So, these days, I just buy half, roughly ₦15k. 

I don’t do long-distance drives, only making exceptions like going to my friend’s wedding or linking up with my babe. I had a chef that came in once a week but stopped her for a while. But eating out is biting, so I had to bring her back again at a higher rate. I’m now in between a rock and a hard place. I increased my housekeeper’s pay and slightly increased transfer payments to dependents.

My last movie dates were on the mainland, compared to my usual Ebony and IMAX at Lekki on the island. It’s cheaper, but my babe isn’t feeling this mainland level. It’s still the same film they’ll show us on the island or on the mainland.

Niyi, Corporate Trainer

I’ve stopped going anywhere. Fuel to fill my car’s tank is now about ₦37,000, up from ₦14,000. So I only go out when I absolutely have to go out. 

I’m also investing in more solar generation. The inverter I own relies on fuel and electricity to charge the batteries. More investment has gone towards increasing the number of solar panels to avoid relying on generators. It’s become unsustainable to use generators.

I also had to bring forward some purchases before the prices inevitably go up. 

Essentially, I’ve done a lot to reduce reliance on fuel because it’s become too expensive to maintain the lifestyle I was living in, pre-subsidy removal.

William, Lawyer

I’ve been in Abuja for the last few months, and it’s considerably different from living in Lagos. In Lagos, you at least have alternate transport like bikes. Here, outings are either via Bolt or a cab. Their cabs are arranged in a way that five people can sit in them. There are no bikes or buses here.

For the cabs, the price of transport has doubled. What cost about ₦1000 before now goes for ₦1800. I now go to court less than before. I also cut costs by moving in groups so that my colleagues and I can split the bill.

Personally, food prices haven’t increased. I still buy things at relatively the same price as before the subsidy removal. In Abuja, we don’t worry much about electricity. I think ours is way better than Lagos’s. On average, we get around 18 hours of consecutive power supply daily. On some days, it could be as high as 23 hours. That means you don’t have to worry much about fuel for your generator. You also don’t need to worry about wasting electricity to pump water, as ours is pipe-borne. The government supplies water, which is fascinating and different from Lagos, where everyone drills boreholes to get water. Abuja is giving American vibes.

Prices of other things may still go up over time, but for now, transport is the only area where I’m feeling the pinch.

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Editorial Note: Navigating Nigeria is a platform for Nigerians to passionately discuss the Nigerian experience with little interference from individual opinions. While our editorial standards emphasise the truth and endeavour to fact-check claims and allegations, we are not responsible for allegations made about other people based on half-truths.

What were your motivations for joining the Nigerian police?

I didn’t sit down and decide to join the police. It wasn’t out of free will. I joined out of anxiety for myself and my siblings. It’s needful to add that my father was a police officer. He was retiring from the force, so I had to take up the job to cater for myself because it’d have been difficult for him to provide for my younger siblings and me as a retiree.

I lived a quiet and principled life, thanks to my parents’ upbringing. This has helped me to stay sane in the force.

The truth is that many conditions have pressured some of us into doing not-so-nice things that aren’t worth mentioning. Ultimately, policemen aren’t drafted from space or a foreign country. We’re all a product of Nigerian society, for better or worse. 

Care to shed light on this?

The police aren’t the most corrupt institution there is in Nigeria. We’re just closer to the people than other institutions, reinforcing the perception that we’re the worst, and I’d like to clarify this.

If you’re crude to them, don’t take care of them or see to their basic remuneration needs, or if working conditions are not good, they’ll do whatever they can to make things conducive for themselves. The risk involved in policing is high, and we’re endangering ourselves daily without adequate insurance. You meet all of these needs, and you’ll get a civil police. If you don’t, you’ll have a disgruntled and unsatisfied police force that can’t attract the best minds. 

I hope Nigerians’ defensive nature can be worked on as we assert our authority when we feel undermined. Things could improve if Nigerians don’t always see us as the enemy. 

Addressing these issues will attract people with principles to the force and help sanitise it. 

What has your experience with the police force been like so far?

I’m a police inspector and have been in the police force for 16 years. A police officer is a member of society vested with the authority to keep society sane by a set of prescribed rules and regulations put in place by society. A police officer makes sure no one contravenes these laws. If these laws are contravened, the erring person faces the consequences.

Society has to consent to your authority as a police officer before you can police them. Other than that, it’s sheer slavery. 

That said, my experience hasn’t been so bad. Besides the impediments I raised earlier, I’ve consistently tried to improve myself. I see some of the pitfalls police officers face when policing the community and learn from them not to replicate them in my life. I want to leave lasting impressions in the minds of the people I meet daily. I’m courteous with people, keeping an open mind, and empathetic in my interactions. This has made me stand out, and overall, the testimonies I’ve received make the experience worthwhile.

This would be a good time to hear your thoughts on the Seun Kuti matter

I think Seun’s reaction was malicious and premeditated. It was a calculated attempt at humiliating the entire Nigeria Police Force. He went on Instagram (IG) to brag that he isn’t like other celebrities who would come on IG to explain being slapped or confronted by the police. He even asked if we knew how many police he’d slapped in the past without consequence. 

Overall, the police handled the situation well, as due process was followed after he turned himself in, and eventually, he was bailed. He would have been sorry he slapped an officer in uniform in other, more advanced countries. Somebody got 70 years imprisonment for spitting on a police officer in the USA. 

In conclusion, men of the junior ranks, like the policeman involved with Seun, should exercise more restraint, and civilians should loosen up a little more and show some respect for our police force. It’s the only way the experiences between the two can get better.

Final words on the new Police Pension Bill approved by the Senate

The passage of the Bill for the Nigeria Police Pension Board is a very laudable and long due. I’m hopeful for the gracious endorsement of the President, and that implementation will be expedited.

I like this development because, consequently, police officers, upon retirement, can access a chunk of, if not all, of their retirement benefit and not the meagre amounts handed to them, which is almost inadequate to do anything meaningful with. 

As with the other sister agencies, like the DSS and the military, which were since exempted from the contributory pension scheme, retired police officers would be able to maintain a decent livelihood and also cater for their essential needs, especially their health, as their take-home would remain their basic salaries while they were still serving. 

That said, I’d like the government to look at upscaling the remuneration of police officers. As it stands, the risk involved in policing far outweighs the monetary compensation. I’m not implying that there’s a momentary equivalent of staking one’s life daily but as a moral booster. The Nigeria Police has one of the poorest remunerations compared to other African Countries. 

There are also other welfare-related matters, such as comprehensive insurance packages for every police officer. The present Inspector General of Police hinted at it, but I’m not sure of the state of the proposal at this time. Housing is another crucial necessity. Most police officers live outside the barracks, largely in shabby and dilapidated states. The aforementioned facilities are the basic requirements that are supposed to be in place for a functional and confident police force and officers, as it were. Again, I’d say that every society gets the police force it deserves. If you compromise their welfare and working conditions, you’ll have a dissatisfied police force.

Editorial Note: Navigating Nigeria is a platform for Nigerians to passionately discuss the Nigerian experience with little interference from individual opinions. While our editorial standards emphasise the truth and endeavour to fact-check claims and allegations, we are not responsible for allegations made about other people based on half-truths.

Walk us through your experience

This was in 2018. I lived in a large house in a Government Residential Area (GRA) in Bauchi. Our compound had six huge mango trees. It was also very close to the Government House. There’s this abandoned airport down the road, which also has an old air tower. It’s a fantastic spot. People come there on weekdays and weekends to play football. Some play around, go on trains or drive their cars. Nothing else happens around the area during the day. 

One night, I was at home watching TV, and they told the story of a lady who got into prostitution. I remembered thinking then about how we were all part of some equation. It’s like calculus. Our environment influences what we become in the same way that deriving the function of a function changes the equation’s outcome.

I come from a society that tends to be hypocritical about sexuality. They talk about modesty so much you’d think we’re the standard. But there’s a lot of hypocrisy. You see people hiding who they are. I don’t have any trouble with homosexuals, as I understand it’s biology. I’ve seen gay men and women kissing in Bauchi. Yet there’s a lot of preaching against it as if it’s not part of the culture here. The TV documentary on prostitution inspired me to see it for myself.

I guess this is where your story takes off 

I’d heard of this place called Bayan Gari. Bayan Gari, in English, means “behind the city.” It’s not really behind the city in reality. It just happens to be a place dominated by Igbos and people who aren’t core Northerners.

In the northern setting, there’s segregation between Christians and Muslims. They tend to live apart even though they’re in the same state.

I grew up in Lagos, but when I came to the North, I began to really observe this dichotomy. However, this isn’t to say that Lagos didn’t have its issues, particularly with the derogatory way of referring to anyone of Northern extraction as aboki.

Anyway, after that documentary, I decided to visit Bayan Gari to learn about and document it. I planned to immerse myself there to fully understand what was going on.

At the time, I was an imam at a local mosque. One afternoon, I drove down there using a friend’s car. It looked like a regular market, with people going about their lives and businesses. The stories I’d been told about it were that it was filled with naked prostitutes, but that’s not the picture I saw when I initially went there. 

What was it like?

I debated whether I wanted to do this on my first night there. We live in a world where people get judgmental. They somehow think they’re better than others because of some norms they hold on to. But this highlights what Chimamanda has described as the danger of a single story. What about those people there? What about their lives? Do you know what they’re going through and why they’re doing what they’re doing?

I left around 9 p.m., donning a face cap and sneakers while presenting myself as what I presumed a person visiting such a place would look like. Bauchi has a cool club culture but also has other cultures, like Bayan Gari, which they don’t like to talk about.

The first thing I saw on my first night was the presence of almajiris. The term comes from Arabic and means “traveller.” Originally, almajiris were young folks supposed to grow in the way of scholars. But the whole system has been upended and now borders on exploitation everywhere in the North. I believe the practise should end.

The almajiris—young boys—were smoking cigarettes, weed, and gambling while dancing to a club banger. During the day, you’d see these kids on the streets, begging. At night, they’d come down here to flex. I was surprised to find that these happen in Bauchi.

I sat close to some guys selling porno CDs. There were ladies in their hijabs who were prostitutes. It felt like I was in a whole new world. The guys around me asked me to join them in gambling, but I didn’t answer. I felt like I didn’t belong there, so I walked around. There was a ghetto-like feel to it. Some areas were filthy. Some of the ladies there carried offensive scents. 

I contrasted this with when I lived in Lagos. Then I stayed on the island.

When you go along Obalende at night, you’ll see prostitutes on the road pulling your clothes as you walk past. I didn’t see that sort of thing here. The Fulani ladies here don’t call out to you. You’d just see them drinking and smoking, ready to get in on the act. 

I got back home around 11:30 p.m. No one knew where I went, not even my friends. As an imam, it would’ve been difficult to deal with the judgmental stares of folks if they’d known that I’d been to Bayan Gari.

How were you able to reconcile being an imam with visiting Bayan Gari?

Understanding science, philosophy, and history helped me navigate that.

Also, there is a verse in the Quran where Allah says, “Verily, in the creation of the heavens and the earth, the changing of day and night are signs for those who reflect.”

That verse alone doesn’t restrict what one can explore.

I went to that place to get answers to my questions and to understand why people do what they do. There’s a talk I listened to about the psychology of evil that has a lot to do with some of the answers most of us are looking for. The key realisation here is that we all have stories. And while we think our stories are valid, others think the same about theirs too.

That sounds deep

I visited again the next day because it had stories I believed should be told. It was the same experience as the previous day. I walked around as usual and saw this very pretty Fulani girl who was a prostitute. I’m Fulani myself. 

I tried to have small talk with her, but it was apparent she was high on something. I asked how much she’d charge me per hour. She told me there was no hourly payment. It was simply a matter of having sex with her till I cum. Once that happens, I’ll pay her ₦‎500. I didn’t know if this was a uniform rate across the board, but this was what she charged for her services.

So I asked why she was doing this. She was reluctant to answer at first, but she eventually did. She said she needed to care for her parents and fend for herself because no one could help. She’d come down to Bauchi from her village in Jos.

I felt pity for her and offered her some money. She asked if I was taking her to my apartment in Bauchi, but I had no intention of doing so.

Then I left.

When I returned home, I was in deep thought, replaying everything in my head. People have different stories, yet it’s so easy to pass judgement when you haven’t listened to them. I walked around the old tower and was in a serious philosophical mood. The old tower used to be a bubbly place used by the rich but has now become a relic of the past. 

And it hit me how the past and the present are interwoven. I never asked the girl’s name, but I kept thinking about how her past and her history with poverty had shaped her present situation as a prostitute. When I left her, she returned to her friends in her high state, laughing and going about her business. 

She was so pretty. I considered asking her hand in marriage to get her out of there and giving her a new slate. I wrote about it but lost it. My mind kept returning to her, and I wanted to visit that place again. I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted to become her saviour—maybe because of her story. Or because she was pretty? Or because she had an innocent look? Her face was gentle, and she had large eyes. 

Hmmm

I went there again three days later. After searching for and finding her this time, I asked her name. She told me it was Aisha. I tried following her around to talk to her, but she wasn’t listening, perhaps high on some substance. She kept telling me to let her be. She left me and went to a dark corner, where another guy followed her. I kept waiting for her and hoping the guy would be done with her to make my case. 

While waiting, I saw another tall, pretty girl who looked like a Shuwa Arab. I was gobsmacked.

I’d found another potential story in my head, so I approached her to ask the same questions I had asked Aisha. She told me to give her ₦5,000 for the whole night. I was only interested in hearing her story. She insisted on that amount regardless, which made me realise she was old in the game.

In the bargaining process, I sensed that ladies were clustering around me, so I removed myself. As I left, I saw the ladies come around with two policemen, who accosted me. I’d seen policemen smoking and touching girls on my earlier visits. 

The policemen told me I had to pay that amount. That was unexpected; I had nothing with the lady except a discussion. I was almost outside of Bayan Gari at this point. 

When they saw that I refused to pay, one of them brought out a chain and started wiping me with it. 

Wawu

They had guns with them. At one point, one of them left while the other continued assaulting me. The girls, meanwhile, were laughing at the whole thing. They queued up behind the policeman while he kept beating me. I fell on my knees, pleading that I had done nothing wrong. 

Some people gathered around to intervene on my behalf, but the policeman escalated matters. He lied to them, saying I was a Boko Haram member.

Ahhhh!

He said I was one of the leaders of Boko Haram in Jos and that he knew my face very well. I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I have beards. He told them I ran to Bauchi when security agents tried to track them down.

The policeman took out his gun, pointed it at my head, and said he’d shoot me, and no one would know what happened. He said no one would question him. See, my body went cold.

Fortunately, I’d withdrawn some money earlier that day, which I had on me. He put his hand in my breast pocket and took out the ₦5000 there. People started pleading with him after seeing me battered, saying he should let me go. It was after he extorted me that he eventually left with the girls.

Narrow escape

I started trekking alone that night. It was around 12:30 a.m. No bikes were on the road, and I was going to a GRA. I was thinking about everything that had happened and started laughing. When I got to Wunti market, I saw a bike man and explained my encounter with the police to him. He laughed at me and zoomed off. I wondered why no one cared to listen to or help me. In my mind, I was a good person and didn’t deserve what was meted out to me. 

I walked further until I got to a mosque, where I saw another bike man sympathetic to my plight. He carried me to my gate.

What was the aftermath of your experience?

When I got in, I took off my clothes. My skin was tender with bruises, and my back was swollen. I was still shocked by the thought that a policeman was willing to pull the trigger because of ₦5,000. I was pursuing a story, but another story came at me.

None of my friends knew about this because they wouldn’t understand why I chose to go to a place known for prostitution and drug use. Many would judge me, and only a few would appreciate why I did what I did. It was only in 2020 that I shared this story with a few open-minded friends. 

There are other places where people go for cheap sex, like Gwalla-meji where the federal polytechnic is located. So when I see Northerners go online to bash people for engaging in sexual activity, I consider it collective hypocrisy because it happens in our backyard.

My takeaway is that beauty exists in different formats; people experience it differently and call it different things. I see those young boys in Bayan Gari as having embraced hedonism in their own way, even though the rest of the world frowns at it. 

But we should ask, how many people who frown at these things indulge in them in one way or another? People do things for reasons best known to them. We shouldn’t be too quick to judge until we hear their stories. To my mind, reality is a spectrum, and morality is a construct. This is how I choose to see the world.

*Name redacted to protect their identity

Editorial Note: Navigating Nigeria is a platform for Nigerians to passionately discuss the Nigerian experience with little interference from individual opinions. While our editorial standards emphasise the truth and endeavour to fact-check claims and allegations, we are not responsible for allegations made about other people based on half-truths.

Walk us through your experience

This was in April 2021. It had been years since I had a boyfriend or someone to call a lover. It also didn’t help that I’m an introverted person. Parties and nightclubs weren’t scenes I was accustomed to. 

Because of this, I used Tinder, the dating app, to connect with people within my neighbourhood. Call it naïveté, but I wasn’t particular about the age of the guys. I was looking for anyone with a fine face and a sexy body.

Lol. Any luck?

I found the profile of this fair-complexioned and handsome man named David, who happened to be in his 30s. I swiped right to accept, and after a few minutes, I got a notification that he swiped right on my profile too. Boom, a match! 

We then got talking, and he mentioned that he worked as a project manager in London and was coming to Nigeria for his sister’s wedding the following weekend. 

He then asked me if I was single or in a relationship, as he was looking for a cool lady to “settle down with” and that he “admired me.” I began to suspect that things were fishy because how could he admire me after only two days of knowing each other? But I went along with it. 

A few days later, he came to my DMs to ask if he could buy anything for me since he was coming to Nigeria. I told him it wasn’t necessary, and he sounded cool about it. 

The following week, I woke up early in the morning to receive a call from a freight agency saying that I had a package from David. That morning, David had also sent a message that he had sent me gifts despite my earlier insistence that it wasn’t necessary.

The gift items included an iPhone 11, wigs, shoes, and a sealed box. I won’t lie, I was so excited and started planning how to receive the package from Customs. 

Three hours later, I got a call from Customs asking me what was in the box. I told him it was £300 as David told me, and they didn’t believe me. They had dogs sniff the package, and they had every reason to suspect that there were drugs in it. 

I confronted David about it, and he told me that he had kept both £300 in the box for me and also five grammes of methamphetamine, aka meth, which is a banned substance. 

Ahhh

He wanted to sell it to a firm in Nigeria to produce certain pills. David also told me things had been difficult for him in London, and he was planning to relocate to Nigeria. He had to use the drug to get money for relocation. It was then that I knew that I had been interacting with a drug trafficker all along and that I was in serious trouble if this matter proceeded any further. 

He begged me to tell them it was just money, but I refused and left Customs to confiscate the package. We never spoke again after that day.

What was your takeaway from the whole experience?

The primary emotion I felt was anger, not even fear. Because if I had known that the guy was a drug pusher, I wouldn’t have gone through this wahala. Thankfully, I wasn’t there when the dogs were sniffing the package. It was the Customs guy who informed me of the arrival of the goods and told me everything via phone.

I only got away without much trouble because I was crying hot tears on the phone. And this was after I paid #10k or so. Even then, I had to plead my innocence with them, using my age as a young girl who’d never met the man in my life. Since then, I’ve not used Tinder again. I prefer making real-life connections.

***In April, the UN Office on Drugs and Crime released its Global Cocaine Report for 2023. The report revealed that Nigeria played a significant role in the smuggling of drugs—particularly at mid-level and dealer levels—in Africa and beyond.

ALSO READ: Is Nigeria the Cocaine Capital of Africa?