Nigeria

By ‎Sadiq Aliyu Waziri

‎With cliches such as the game of politics, playing politics, the political arena, politics is a dirty game, politics is a game of chess, politics is a game of power, politics is a game of cat and mouse, and many others alike, which metaphorically compare politics to a game, many that participate in it think it is a game-literally. It was Dr. Abdulaziz T. Bako who made the analogy, on Facebook sometime back, of how football fans supported their clubs to how many Nigerians took politics. However, is politics a game? 

‎The former Nigerian President, General Muhammadu Buhari, passed away two days ago. Moments after the announcement, photos of the widow of the late former President were seen circulating on social media. The images were captioned, stating that the deceased had bequeathed her to seek forgiveness from Nigerians on his behalf. She pleaded with Nigerians to forgive her husband before he was laid to rest. ‎

‎Since the announcement of the passing, followed by Aisha Buhari’s words, people became divided, with a section of them expressing their shock, forgiving and praying for the deceased. In contrast, others reminisce about Buhari’s time in office, voice out their dismay, and even go to the extent of publicising their rejection of the late President’s prayer. Again, there has been another section of people who even publicly celebrate the death. 

‎Let us recall that Buhari, just two years ago, was the most powerful, famous, and arguably the most loved Nigerian politician before he came to power in 2015. Who would have thought then that people would say unkind words about him or even celebrate his death? People idolised him; they fought and died for this man to gain power. 

‎Perhaps seeing Buhari’s widow, who at once felt she could not put up with a teasing statement from an immature university student, at people’s mercy, begging on her husband’s behalf, might make those who “play” the “game” of politics rethink their position, to realise that it is not a game. It never has been and never will be. 

‎To many of the player-participants, politics is merely a game to be played and won, with the ultimate goal of securing leadership positions and staying relevant. To many of the supporter-participants, it serves as an avenue to support and cheer the players, making money, securing appointments in some cases, and engaging in trolling one another. They come out and defend whatever wrong their bosses do and discredit and blemish whatever right their rivals do, simply because it’s all a game to them.‎

‎If they take politics as a game, it is at their own peril. And, it is high time that the people who participate in politics and take it as such understood that politics touches people’s lives. And that they do not have separate lives from their political activities. Every action, decision, cheer, support, defending, discrediting, blemish, etc., will be accounted for. They could view politics as a game, if that is what they choose, but it’s about this world for the next one.   

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‎Sadiq Aliyu Waziri wrote via sawaziry@yahoo.com.

By Sabiu Abdullahi

Nigeria and the Benin Republic have reached a significant agreement on a joint trade framework aimed at removing cross-border trade barriers, promoting economic growth, and strengthening ties between both nations.

The agreement was sealed during a high-level meeting held on Saturday, August 2, 2025, at the Ministry of Economy and Finance in Cotonou.

The session brought together top officials, Customs leaders, and trade experts from the two countries, all focused on improving the efficiency of cross-border trade.

Nigeria’s Minister of Industry, Trade, and Investment, Mrs. Jumoke Oduwole, described the new framework as a strategic advancement in West Africa’s quest for regional economic development.

“This agreement signals strong political will from both countries to pursue a progressive and inclusive trade relationship,” she stated.

She recalled the recent meeting between Presidents Bola Ahmed Tinubu and Patrice Talon at the West African Economic Summit, where both leaders signed a preliminary Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) and directed their technical teams to turn political agreements into real progress.

“Our joint commitment is to dismantle barriers, improve logistics, and ensure that trade becomes a tool for job creation and regional prosperity. The Heads of Customs of both nations have demonstrated commendable synergy, which we are expanding through four thematic working groups covering trade facilitation, enforcement, data sharing, and infrastructure,” she added.

Mrs. Oduwole also noted that Nigeria is positioning itself to transition from a regional trading hub to a global player in shaping equitable trade systems.

Comptroller-General of Customs, Adewale Adeniyi, MFR, assured that the Nigeria Customs Service is fully prepared to implement the agreement in line with the country’s trade agenda.

“What we have witnessed today is the culmination of intensive technical meetings between Nigeria and Benin Customs officials over the past 48 hours. We’ve developed a joint framework that reflects our Presidents’ shared vision for economic growth,” he said.

He disclosed that both countries are planning to sign a formal Memorandum of Understanding based on the framework by early 2026.

Addressing the role of Customs in improving trade processes, CGC Adeniyi said measures have been outlined to ensure corridor-based trade solutions, which will promote transit and transshipment activities and reduce the bureaucratic delays affecting small and medium businesses.

“We’re committed to removing trade barriers that hinder local businesses. New trade corridors have been identified, and connectivity between our systems has already been activated,” he added.

He also expressed gratitude to the Director-General of Benin Customs, Mrs. Adidjatou Hassan Zanouvi, for her support, particularly for Benin’s endorsement of Nigeria’s leadership role at the World Customs Organisation (WCO) Council meeting in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo.

Both delegations later toured the Cotonou Port to review existing operations and identify areas for modernisation. They also visited the Seme-Krake Joint Border Post, demonstrating their commitment to closer coordination and regional integration through joint border management.

This new agreement marks a major milestone in the trade relations between Nigeria and Benin and is expected to promote growth, transparency, and innovation across both economies.

By Zekeri Idakwo Laruba

Many years ago, though I can’t quite recall what class I was in at the time, I read with deep suspense the secondary school play The Gods Are Not to Blame, a gripping adaptation of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex by Ola Rotimi. The story left a lasting impression on me.

‎‎The play retells the classical Greek tragedy in a Yoruba setting, replacing Delphi with Ifa, but retains the central tragedy: a prophecy that Odewale would kill his father and marry his mother. The oracle had spoken. His parents, terrified and confused by the fate foretold, did everything to avoid it. They gave the boy away, hoping to cheat destiny. But in doing so, they unknowingly set in motion the very events they hoped to prevent.

‎Like a mirror held up to society, the play reminds us that fate, while powerful, is often enabled by human choices. And as I reflect on Nigeria’s present economic and political situation, I am compelled to draw a parallel. The gods, be they ancestral spirits, destiny, or structural circumstances, are not to blame for our predicament. The fault lies within us, among the citizens, and in our daily conduct. Nigeria’s crisis is not rooted in some divine curse, leadership, or preordained calamity. The tragedy is man-made, self-reinforced, and perpetuated by generations of unchecked habits.

‎The go-to culprit for our country’s dysfunction is always leadership; yes, he must be voted out. And in fact, we have had our share of weak, corrupt, selfish or visionless leaders. But to lay the entire burden of national failure on leaders alone is to ignore the broader ecosystem that produces and enables them. Leadership, in many ways, reflects the society from which it emerges.

As the former national secretary of the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), Buba Galadima, recently argued on Arise TV, the problem isn’t merely the constitution or even the political structure. The constitution may have its flaws, yes, but no document, no matter how perfectly worded, can save a people who refuse to uphold its spirit. The rot goes deeper, into the very fibre of society.

‎The average Nigerian seeks change, including better roads, reliable electricity, transparent governance, and reduced costs for transportation and foodstuffs, but is reluctant to make the personal sacrifices necessary for this transformation. We want leaders who won’t embezzle funds, but we are ready to bribe our way out of traffic offences, rig student union elections, or inflate business invoices for profit. We demand accountability from the top while practising impunity at the grassroots.

‎‎What we face is not a constitutional crisis, but a moral and cultural one. An attitudinal crisis. A society where dishonesty is normalised and rewarded cannot produce integrity at scale. A nation where people cheat customers, underpay staff, evade taxes, and applaud fraudsters as “smart” will always find itself circling the drain of underdevelopment.

‎‎You see it in business, in education, in religious institutions, even in our homes. The trader who mixes sand/stones in beans to increase weight; the employer who withholds salaries while funding a lavish lifestyle; the pastor or imam, even herbalist, who uses fear to manipulate followers; the teacher who extorts students for grades; the parent who teaches a child to lie to visitors, these are not the acts of the gods. They are human choices.

‎‎Much is said about fighting corruption in public office. But who will fight it in the private lives of citizens? In that small business of yours, are you sincere? Do you treat your staff the way you demand to be treated by your political leaders? Do you keep your promises? Are your scales balanced? Do you honour contracts? These questions are not rhetorical; they are foundational.

‎Corruption does not begin at the national budget office; it begins in the market stall, the classroom, and the family dinner table. Before it becomes institutionalised, it is psychological. We must cleanse the mindset that normalises dishonesty, excuses shortcuts, and praises the rich regardless of how their wealth was acquired.

‎What Nigeria urgently needs is a complete national reorientation campaign, not the kind that involves empty slogans or jingles on the radio, but a sustained, grassroots movement to rebuild ethical standards. We need to teach honesty not just as a virtue, but as a power. We must reintroduce shame where wrong is done and rekindle collective pride in doing things right.

‎This means rethinking our educational curricula to emphasise civic duty and moral reasoning. It means reforming religious institutions to prioritise substance over spectacle. It means applying social pressure on influencers, celebrities, and community leaders to model ethical behaviour. It also means supporting the rare public officials who dare to lead by example.

‎‎If the gods are not to blame teaches us anything, it is that destiny is not an external enemy; it is a consequence of our own decisions. Nigeria is not doomed. It is not a failed state by fate. But we must be honest: we are dangerously close to reaping the full harvest of our collective neglect.

‎To change our national direction, we must start with the mirror, not the ballot box. Reforms must begin in the marketplace and the family unit before they can translate to public office. Only then will the constitution come alive. Only then will good leadership be sustained. Only then will Nigeria’s story turn from tragedy to triumph.

‎The gods are watching, yes. But they are not to BLAME. WE ARE!

Zekeri Idakwo Laruba is the Assistant Editor of PRNigeria and Economic Confidential. He can be reached via idakwozekeri93@gmail.com.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

It all began like any other viral moment on Nigerian social media, but then it took a turn. Popular TikTok sensation Hamzat Habeeb Adelaja, popularly known as Peller, shocked followers recently with a post that seemed almost too generous to be true. He was hiring a cameraman for a monthly salary of ₦500,000. The news spread like wildfire, and in no time, graduates, yes, university graduates, trooped in for interviews, hoping to clinch the role under the young entertainer’s banner.

But beneath the glitz of that social media post lies a stark irony, a brutal reflection of Nigeria’s current socioeconomic reality: a secondary school certificate holder interviewing degree holders for a position in the gig economy. Is this a triumph of hustle over education or a symptom of a failing system?

This scenario has ignited widespread controversy. Should someone with Peller’s academic background employ graduates? Is he flaunting success in a way that undermines the value of formal education? Or is he, in his own unorthodox way, contributing to job creation in a country where unemployment is a ticking time bomb?

Regardless of where you stand, one truth remains: Nigeria’s youths are not only unemployed, they are disillusioned.

But, beneath the glamour, is Peller’s youth the key to his controversial rise? At age 20, can Peller truly shoulder the weight of fame, fortune, and the emotional toll that comes with being in the public eye? Fame is a double-edged sword, and wealth earned in the public space, especially in a country like Nigeria, where social values matter, can either elevate or destroy a brand.

Some have attributed his behaviour to immaturity, a lack of exposure, or poor guidance. Others question the roles played by his management and inner circle. Are they enabling his excesses or helping him stay grounded?

Peller’s youth and maturity seem to be dancing to different tunes at times in sync, at other moments, sharply distinct. While his age brings the energy, creativity, and audacity that fuel his rise, it may also limit the depth of judgment that comes with lived experience. Despite his fame and financial success, one thing remains true: maturity isn’t measured by wealth or followers. 

He may be richer or more popular than his advisers, but that doesn’t make guidance obsolete. In fact, the higher one climbs, the more essential wise counsel becomes. No matter our age or status, we all need mentors, correction, and continued learning because growth, like fame, should never outpace wisdom.

This is not Peller’s first brush with public criticism. During the heated JAMB controversy months ago, he was branded a poor role model. Critics say he misuses his influence. Admirers say he is just being himself. But the question is not just what Peller does, it’s what he represents.

When individuals like Peller become the aspiration of thousands of young people, what message are we sending? That fame, regardless of how it’s earned, trumps knowledge, experience, and decorum?

One might ask, is this a systemic failure or a personal flaw? But the deeper question is this: Can we really blame Peller for being a product of a broken system? Or should we point fingers at the society that created him, a society where education is devalued and unemployment drives graduates to accept roles from entertainers with no formal qualifications?

This is a national dilemma. Young people are no longer looking to engineers, doctors, or scholars as role models. They now look to influencers, many of whom may lack the maturity or training to handle such responsibility.

This isn’t just about Peller; it’s about perception, power, and public influence.

The Brand at Risk: PR Implications

From a public relations perspective, Peller’s every move is now under a magnifying glass. As a brand, his current trajectory presents both opportunity and risk. He is loved by many but also watched with scrutiny by an equal number. His brand power lies in his authenticity, but even that must be managed with intentionality because one viral moment can either grow his brand or ruin it.

In a society where cultural norms still dictate public perception, Peller must understand that his brand isn’t just about content; it’s about conduct. His platform gives him power, and with that comes responsibility.

PR experts warn that failing to manage this carefully could result in brand erosion, reduced partnerships, and a gradual loss of public trust. A sustainable career in entertainment requires more than charisma—it demands discipline.

Beyond the Buzz: What should Peller do? It’s easy to dismiss these concerns as envy or moral policing, but that would be a mistake. Peller is a Nigerian pride, a self-made entertainer who carved a niche and created employment. That in itself is commendable. But with influence comes expectation. With status comes scrutiny.

This article is not to tear Peller down. It is to offer a lens of accountability, reflection, and growth. The same media that celebrates must also question, not out of hate, but out of hope that Nigeria’s influencers will see themselves not just as entertainers, but as leaders in a generation gasping for direction.

Peller can choose to be more. He can use his platform to elevate the values of integrity, hard work, and education, even as he continues to thrive in entertainment. He can show that success does not require disrespect, and that influence is not a license for irresponsibility.

Whether he likes it or not, Peller is not just a content creator. He’s a movement. And movements, when misdirected, can lose their magic or worse, mislead millions.

Final Thought

Peller’s story is still unfolding. He is talented, young, and full of potential. This is not a final verdict, but a cautionary tale. The camera is rolling, the nation is watching.

The real question is: What will Peller do next?

Haroon Aremu Abiodun, An Author, public Affairs Analyst. He wrote in via exponentumera@gmail.com

By Uzair Adam

Government has revealed that the majority of bandit attacks in the state are being aided by informants and some members of affected communities who supply food, fuel, drugs, and other essentials to the criminals.

The Commissioner for Internal Security and Home Affairs, Alhaji Nasir Mu’azu, made this known while briefing journalists on Thursday in Katsina, lamenting that about 80 per cent of attacks are linked to insider collaboration.

Mu’azu said some community members act as informants or conduct illicit trade with the criminals at highly inflated prices inside the forests, thereby enabling their operations and profiting from the insecurity.

“In one of the communities affected by the insecurity, a man was found selling a bottle of Coca-Cola for N3,000, and another sold fuel to the bandits for N5,000 per litre,” he disclosed.

He added that drugs and illicit substances are also being supplied at high prices, creating a profitable business for the collaborators.

“Some people even connive with bandits to facilitate abductions of specific victims, including family members,” he said.

Citing a shocking example, the commissioner narrated a case where a man colluded with bandits to kidnap his diabetic father.

“When the bandits brought him to their hideout, they already had diabetic medication ready for his daily treatment. The family eventually paid N30 million in ransom, and the man received N8 million for facilitating the abduction,” he explained.

Mu’azu also said that some informants tip off bandits when Nigerian Air Force (NAF) jets take off for operations, enabling the criminals to evade airstrikes by taking cover within civilian populations.

“This has made it difficult for the military to succeed in some of their missions,” he said.

According to him, only about 20 per cent of the insecurity challenge in the state can be attributed directly to bandits, while the remaining 80 per cent is driven by the actions of insiders who aid and abet them.

While noting that the state government has made significant progress using kinetic approaches in some local government areas, he stressed the need for community cooperation and non-kinetic solutions to address the root of the problem.

He urged the public to provide credible information that could support security efforts, assuring that all such reports would be treated with the utmost confidentiality.

By Abdulrahman Sani

I went to Sudan to study Arabic. That was the beginning, simple and deliberate. But in truth, Arabic was only the surface. Sudan offered more than language. It stirred old questions I had carried with me since adolescence. Questions about memory, exile, and what remains after collapse.

My first encounter with the Sokoto Caliphate’s legacy wasn’t through archives or oral traditions. It was through theatre. I was in secondary school when I read Attahiru by Ahmad Yerima. The image of the Caliph fleeing colonial forces, defiant to the end, burned itself into my mind. I didn’t fully understand the politics then, but I felt the tragedy. That single text became a spark.

Later, I found the writings of Dr. Usman Bugaje, measured and searching. And then came Muhammad Shareef, the African American founder of Jamaa’at Danfodio in the United States, whom I had the pleasure of interviewing [here: https://youtu.be/_5Uj1S0lXQM?si=1BpJ9vusnW2HqWf4]. His writings were rich, wide-ranging, and full of overlooked geographies. It was through him that I first read about Maiurno, a small village in Sudan that held the echoes of Sokoto’s fall.

The very idea of it intrigued me. Remnants of the Caliphate had not only survived but also resettled, rebuilt, and renamed. I wanted to know what happened after Burmi. I wanted to know what exile looked like, generations later.

I mentioned this to my friend Malam Hassan, and soon after, we were on our way — me, him, and our guide. Before Maiurno, I spent some time in a Hausa village in Sudan. The familiarity was immediate. I saw areas named after Illela, heard idioms that sounded like home. It was as though Sokoto had sent a whisper into the desert, and it had echoed back in Sudanese tones.

Maiurno came into view quietly, without ceremony—a flat, sun-beaten village, carrying itself without fanfare. But history rarely announces itself. You feel it in the silences.

We made our way to the Sultan’s palace early in the morning. As we approached, an elderly man greeted me in Fulfulde. I hesitated, then responded in Arabic, admitting I didn’t understand. It was one of those quiet humiliations. A Fulani, abroad, unable to answer in the language of his own people. He smiled politely and said nothing.

We waited. There were others before us, people from another town in Sudan who had come to report a case. In the meantime, I noticed the crocodiles. Yes, crocodiles. They lay in their enclosure like royal guards, unmoving. It felt surreal but somehow fitting. The Sultan was no mere figurehead. He was the acknowledged leader of Hausa and Fulani communities in Sudan, a man of both presence and authority.

When he finally emerged, he received the guests before us. He listened without interruption or impatience. Then he settled their matter with a wisdom that didn’t need to explain itself. That kind of clarity is rare.

Then he turned to me.

I told him why I had come. I said I was interested in the Fodiyawa manuscripts said to be preserved in Sudan. He nodded with understanding, but explained that the key lay with the Sardauna of Maiurno, a scholar of great standing who, ironically, had travelled to Nigeria, my own country.

The Sultan was fluent in Hausa, Arabic, and Fulfulde. He spoke with the calm rhythm of someone used to being listened to. He smiled and said, “I know in Sokoto your Fulfulde doesn’t go beyond Balinjam.” It was said lightly, but it landed with accuracy.

He spoke of his relative, Professor Mukoshay, the author of the Fulani-Hausa dictionary. Then, briefly about Hayat ibn Sa‘id, a name that deserves more telling than time allowed. Before long, I realised I should be recording this. I asked his permission. He agreed with grace.

He began narrating how their ancestors had come to Maiurno after the fall of the Caliphate, how they had built their homes, mosques, and memory on Sudanese soil, and how they still kept contact with their families in Nigeria. He spoke too of the Jamaa’at Danfodio in America with quiet admiration, amused by how history had found new shapes and tongues.

After the conversation, he did something unexpected. He asked, gently, for my contact. I gave it. We shook hands, and I took my leave.

What struck me wasn’t just the story. It was the clarity with which he carried it. My visit to Maiurno took place in 2019. At the time, the country was in a fragile transitional moment, unsure of what lay ahead. But even then, the Sultan stood out–quiet, composed, and principled. In later years, during the war with the RSF militia, I would hear that he remained steadfast and stood with the state when others hesitated. The president himself visited to thank him.

Maiurno wasn’t just a trip. It was a quiet, necessary crossing, from curiosity to memory, from story to place. The Sokoto Caliphate may have fallen in Burmi, but it lives on. In names. In speech. In places like Maiurno, where its sons still remember.

Abdulrahman Sani can be reached via X: @philosopeace.

By Abdullahi Mukhtar Algasgaini

A leadership crisis has erupted in the African Democratic Congress (ADC) after Nafiu Bala, the party’s 2023 Gombe State governorship candidate, declared himself Interim National Chairman on Thursday.

Bala, who previously served as the party’s National Deputy Chairman, announced his new role during a press conference in Abuja.

He accused former party leaders of abandoning their constitutional duties and handing over ADC’s structures to “powerful outsiders.”

The position is currently held by former Senate President David Mark, who was appointed interim chairman after an opposition coalition adopted ADC as its platform.

Bala, however, insists his assumption of the role is legitimate under the party’s constitution.

He called on the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) to recognize the leadership change, warning that failure to adhere to ADC’s constitutional guidelines could lead to legal action.

Bala vowed to restore internal democracy, stating, “No party leader has the right to transfer elected mandates to non-members.”

The development signals deepening divisions within the opposition party.

By Sabiu Abdullahi

The Presidency has said President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is entitled to seek a second term in office, just as the late former President Muhammadu Buhari did.

Bayo Onanuga, the Special Adviser to the President on Information and Strategy, made this known during an interview with Trust Radio on Wednesday.

He urged Northern politicians to exercise patience and respect the rotational power arrangement, arguing that the South supported Buhari for eight years and should be allowed to complete its own turn.

Onanuga dismissed recent claims by the Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF) about Northern marginalisation.

He described such complaints as a veiled attempt to weaken Tinubu’s government.

“This president is a Nigerian. He deserves the same two terms that Buhari had. Let’s not sacrifice the country for personal ambition,” Onanuga stated.

Addressing allegations that federal appointments under Tinubu favour the Southwest, Onanuga challenged those making the accusations to present credible data rather than general assumptions.

He also dismissed reports of lopsided infrastructure development. He said the Tinubu administration inherited several incomplete and abandoned projects across the country.

Onanuga pointed to appointments in the security sector as proof of inclusiveness, saying Northerners head key agencies under Tinubu’s leadership.

“You need to get your statistics right. It’s all political mischief designed to undermine the President. There are bad roads across the country, not just in the North.

“The National Security Adviser, Chief of Defence Staff, and the two Defence Ministers are all Northerners. Places like Birnin Gwari and Igabi (in Kaduna) are now safer. I drove from Kaduna to Abuja without incident, a journey that was once unthinkable,” he added.

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Nigerian spoken word artist and poet, Maryam Bukar Hassan, has been appointed the first United Nations Global Advocate for Peace, marking a historic milestone for both the artist and the continent.

Known for her evocative poetry and powerful performances, Hassan, often called “Alhanislam” by her fans, has gained international recognition for using her voice to address pressing social issues. Her latest appointment underscores the UN’s commitment to engaging young voices in the global peacebuilding process.

In her new role, Hassan is expected to lead campaigns that inspire dialogue, promote conflict resolution, and amplify youth perspectives on peace. Her message, rooted in empathy and resilience, has resonated with many around the world.

“Peace is not a silence you force into people’s mouths… It is not the absence of war; it is the presence of understanding,” she says in her latest poem — a reflection of the conviction she brings to her advocacy.

With conflict and crisis affecting millions globally, especially young people, Hassan’s appointment comes at a critical time. Her voice offers not just representation, but a rallying call for hope and healing.

By Oladoja M.O

The Bola Ahmed Tinubu administration has unarguably embarked on a bold and unapologetic mission to retool Nigeria’s economy. From the abrupt removal of petrol subsidies to the floating of the naira, the unification of multiple FX windows, and most recently, the signing of the landmark Tax Reform and Fiscal Policy Bill, there is no denying that the government has chosen a macro-to-micro economic approach. That is, fix the big picture first, then let the gains gradually filter to the people.

And indeed, the “green lights” are beginning to blink. Global credit rating agencies such as Fitch and Moody’s have upgraded Nigeria’s outlook. Foreign investors are expressing renewed interest. Oil production is improving, FX liquidity is easing, and fiscal buffers are being rebuilt. From a purely macroeconomic standpoint, Nigeria appears to be reclaiming its place as a serious economy with a reform-minded leadership.

But there’s a contradiction that cannot be ignored: on the streets of Agege, Aba, Makurdi, and beyond, the economy is still red; red markets, red household budgets, red transport fares, and red faces of frustration. Prices have tripled in some cases. Wages have barely moved. Many can no longer afford their children’s school fees. Traders are losing capital to inflation. Food is fast becoming a luxury. Amid this hardship, Nigerians are asking the most honest, piercing question of the moment:

“If the economy is growing, why am I still shrinking?” “If the economy is growing, where is the growth in my pocket?”

This is not a question born out of ignorance. It is a legitimate cry that speaks to the disconnect between macroeconomic progress and microeconomic relief. Yes, the big numbers are looking better, but the lived realities of the majority are deteriorating. To understand this discrepancy, we must first understand the difference between macroeconomics and microeconomics. 

Macroeconomics concerns itself with the national economy, including factors such as GDP growth, inflation rates, budget deficits, and foreign exchange reserves. These are the indicators investors, multilateral organisations, and economic analysts watch. Microeconomics, on the other hand, deals with everyday realities: how much you earn, what you can buy with that income, whether your small business can survive, and whether prices of food, fuel, and medicine are manageable. In theory, macroeconomic stability should, over time, trickle down and improve microeconomic conditions. But in practice, especially in a country like Nigeria, that process is rarely smooth or automatic.

The truth is that reforms, especially big, structural reforms create what economists call a “lag effect.” That is, the pain comes first; the relief comes much later. Floating the naira made the exchange rate more transparent and investor-friendly, but it also instantly raised the price of imported goods. Removing fuel subsidy fixed a long-standing fiscal leak, but it also sent transport and food prices soaring. And because Nigeria imports a significant share of its consumption, inflation spiked, with devastating effects on the poor. Salaries have not caught up. Social safety nets are thin. Informal workers who make up over 60% of Nigeria’s labour force are primarily left to fend for themselves.

Yet, this is the path the government has chosen. And it is important to say this clearly: choosing a macro-first approach is not inherently wrong. In fact, for a country like Nigeria, plagued by decades of financial mismanagement, it is even necessary. Fixing subsidies, unifying the exchange rate, and rebuilding fiscal credibility are long overdue. Every administration must work with the strategy it believes in, and this government has opted to “stabilise the roof before fixing the foundation.” That, in itself, is a policy choice one with clear upsides.

However, macroeconomic success without a visible microeconomic impact is a hard sell to a hungry population. People don’t live in GDP. They live on garri, transport fares, and electricity bills. While international investors applaud the courage of reforms, local citizens are asking: Where is the evidence that my own life is getting better?

The administration is not blind to this concern. The recently signed Tax Reform and Fiscal Policy Bill is part of a broader effort to expand the tax net and capture the informal sector, both to raise revenue and bring more economic players into visibility. But again, for the everyday Nigerian, these reforms are abstract. What matters is how they translate into food on the table, money in the pocket, and hope in the future.

So, how do we build a bridge between this macro-level retooling and the micro-level reality of the people?

First, we must move beyond tokenistic interventions like cash transfers and instead design innovative relief tools that tie micro-support to long-term productivity. For example, introducing community-based digital vouchers that support food or fuel purchases but are redeemable only when tied to school attendance, digital payments, or participation in a training program would ease the current pressure while also boosting the country’s long-term human capital.

Second, the government must decentralise economic adaptation. Nigeria is too diverse for a one-size-fits-all economic playbook. Establishing “Local Reform Chambers” committees made up of state governments, market leaders, and community associations can help interpret macro policies at a local level and propose area-specific interventions. If subsidy removal causes a shock in Zaria or Owerri, let those communities co-design their response, be it cooperative transport schemes or communal food banks, funded partially by the government and partially by local actors.

Thirdly, data must become a feedback tool, not just a planning tool. The government should publish a monthly Macro-to-Micro Progress Report that clearly shows how reforms are improving incomes, lowering costs, or reaching underserved communities. Let people see the path of change, even if it’s still under construction.

Finally, the government must actively invest in skills, tools, and local infrastructure. Don’t just train youths to code; train them to fix machines, install solar panels, manage cooperatives, and build homes. Make markets more productive with solar lighting, shared storage, and access to water. These are the enablers that convert national growth into grassroots empowerment.

Conclusively, it is fair to acknowledge that the current administration is taking steps that previous governments only danced around. The reforms are not without merit and frankly, not without courage. But reforms are not complete until they reach the people.

The Nigerian people are not impatient; they are simply in pain. And when they ask, “If the economy is growing, why is my pocket not?” they are not being unreasonable. They are asking for what every citizen deserves: a place in the progress. Now is the time to move beyond balancing spreadsheets and begin balancing lives because growth is only real when it is felt.

And no reform is complete until the people rise with the numbers.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com