Nigeria | Page 5 of 223

For every musician performing on a global stage, there’s a team of managers and handlers who have been with her from day one, tasked with protecting the vision, securing the bag, and steering the music.

However, in an industry where trust is currency and betrayal is always one phone call away, the relationship between artist and management isn’t always as smooth as it looks.

For some musicians, the moment of truth comes when contracts don’t add up, shows fall through, or support disappears when needed most.

In this piece, 10 Nigerian musicians open up about the moment they knew their management didn’t have their back.

“There was a period where he held my music for over two and a half years. That was when I became frustrated, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” — Papi Gunzo, artist and music producer.

I had been doing music for a while, but when I changed my sound and started gaining traction, my manager started acting strangely.

He would tell me not to release the songs. I would have to fight for the songs, but I always ended up releasing them on my own.

But I made a particular song that people loved everywhere I performed. Excuses started coming in when it was time to push and make videos. Lack of communication began to crack into our business. He didn’t communicate. He marketed my music without telling me anything. He wouldn’t share his plans for us and my music, even when he pushed my music to people to listen to. He would randomly tell me to send my music to someone, and I shouldn’t worry, money was coming.

Then there was a period where he held my music for over two and a half years. That was when I became frustrated and couldn’t take it anymore. I lost trust in our business together, and I went to release that track on my own. The moment he found I had released the song, he angrily called me, insulted me and said that I didn’t know that he had been shopping the song around and was due for a ₦1.5 million gain from a deal he cut from it. He said that I fucked up the business for him. So, what about me, the maker of the music?

My confusion and anger intensified at the same time. My eyes opened, and I realised that my music had been putting some money in his pockets, and I was just there, wondering what the hell was going on. So, I said fuck it and freed myself from the situation.

Looking back, our working relationship could have been better because he was a good guy. If he comes around again, we might work together, but I will never work in that kind of situation again.

“A lawyer is supposed to provide clarity. He gave me confusion.” — SosaTTW, rapper and music producer.

It started with a post on X. I was posting my wins; the kind of posts that come from my music finally gaining visibility and traction. My streams were going up in hundreds. People were listening. I had momentum. Then one day in late 2023, a comment from one of my posts came in. It was from a lawyer who had seen my posts, listened to my music, and said he believed in what I was doing.

He told me he wanted to work with me. He said that if I would blow up—and he believed I would—I needed to clear my records first. Otherwise, copyright issues would come back to bite me later.

It made sense. I trusted his expertise. He gave me a number and a fee and said it was to take care of my records that needed to be cleared. He promised to draft contracts to get it done right. And he did. After the payment went through, he sent emails to producers and musicians I have worked with. But after that, no updates from him. No steps or guidance that he said he’d give. I felt like I wasn’t just kept in the dark; the light had never been turned on.

Some months passed. No word from him yet. When I finally asked him nine months after payment, he made a second effort. He did the same things when he got paid the first time. But what stood out to me the second time was how he spoke to me. His tone was rude, cold, dismissive and almost like I was bothering him for asking questions about work he claimed he was supposed to do. That’s not how he sounded when he first approached me—he was respectful, professional, and enthusiastic. He spoke like he believed in my vision.

That’s when I realised: the money I thought I was paying to clear my records had just gone toward contract drafting. But that’s not what I was told. That’s not what I agreed to. I wasn’t mad that he got paid for his time. I was mad that he got paid under pretences and then talked down to me like I was a burden. A lawyer is supposed to provide clarity. He gave me confusion.

A lawyer is supposed to protect you. He protected his own interests. It taught me something that just because someone believes in your dream doesn’t mean they’re invested in your success. Sometimes they just see you as a paycheck with potential.

It pained me, but I moved past it. I’m confident that my story doesn’t end there. I’m still rising, pushing, and posting my wins. More importantly, now, I never confuse professional interest with personal belief.

“My supposed manager called me to say that I should have agreed to work with the artist without his permission.” — GRNDMSTR, rapper and music producer.

In 2023, I worked with someone who wanted to be my manager. He had another artist he was working with, and I supplied them with beats for music. But they never used the beats. He even asked me for a beat for Patoranking, which I sent to them. But nothing came out of it.

I just wanted to gain experience working with people who have been doing this for quite some time, but it was in vain. Later, he said he wanted us to have a proper and professional working relationship. He sent a contract, which I sent to a friend who works in the music industry, to review it and possibly connect me to a lawyer to check it properly. My friend linked me to a mutual friend who’s an entertainment lawyer. My friends’ feedback was that I shouldn’t sign it. They called it a slave contract.

After that, something funny happened while I worked with him in the studio one day. One of the artists he worked with was in that session and collected my phone number. The guy wanted to work with me. The following day, my supposed manager called me to ask why I agreed to work with the artist without his permission. I had to remind him he was there when the guy and I spoke and exchanged contacts. Right there, it became clear that he just wanted to have control over me and my work and to me, that isn’t who really had my best interest at heart. I know I can’t work alone, and I need others to grow. But only those who have my best interest at heart, please.

“Management went behind my back to talk to the investor to request more funds on my behalf.” — Bizzonthetrack, singer-songwriter.

I had management and an investor in 2020. We were all friends and line brothers. The music and deal with the investor went smoothly until I stopped hearing from my management like I used to. My approach to music and our agreement was constantly putting music out. I used to release songs every month. But it wasn’t the case anymore. I had to wait for the management to get a song picked and cleared for release. Or wait for their confirmation to get a concept for a project approved and funded.

While that was happening, the management was already going behind me to talk to the investor to request more funds on my behalf. The investor didn’t see a problem with it because he thought we were all together since it was my management. But it gets even more shady; they pitched another artist to the investor who was also receiving funds. Their attention completely shifted to their new artist, and I was left in the background, wondering what was happening.

It reached a point in that business when I became frustrated and left everything, from the management to the investors. Now, I run everything independently, striving for greatness on my own.

“He won’t even respond to our messages, let alone send us a report on how the song is doing.” — Produca Wa, a music producer.

An artist and I worked together and had a situation with our distributor. It’s a mess. We’re still in the thick of it, but it all started when the record blew up. When the streams were doing big numbers, this distro guy quickly responded and took his cuts without hesitation or second thought.

But now that the buzz has died down and the money isn’t flowing in like it used to, he’s ghosted us. We’ve been trying to contact him for many months, but he won’t even respond to our messages, let alone send us a report on how the song is doing. It’s like these people are only around to feed off your success. The second things slow down, they’re gone, leaving you to fend for yourself instead of sticking around to make the partnership work. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

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“It took constant back and forth and borderline begging to get a semblance of a royalty report.” — Samvsthekids, musician.

I had an experience with a distribution company in 2024. I don’t want to name names, but they are well known for ingratiating themselves with artists only to mess them up on the backend.

When this happened to me, I had requested my revenue report from the distro because I didn’t trust the royalty payments I was getting. It took constant back-and-forth and borderline begging to get a semblance of a royalty report.

That was when I knew that the distro never had my back. We reached out but were only able to speak to one representative, who gave me ambiguous and dismissive responses until they eventually sent the royalty reports. But even despite that, no royalties or money came out of it. I terminated my contract.

“We have worked with each other for many years. But he did nothing.” — Ebiye*, musician.

I had a manager that I worked with for many years. But that was just a title he carried around. He did none of what his role demands—he set up no meetings or got us connected to push the music forward. Everything that my music has achieved, every person I have met, and every opportunity and connection I have made are all from my personal networking and interaction. All the interviews that I have done, the places I have performed, the publications and media platforms I pitched my music to—all me.

When he finally did something, it was during the period I wanted to roll out my first EP in 2020. He brought a music distribution company on board, but they messed up my EP when we got to work. My tracklist was disorganised, which in turn messed up the narrative, concept and vision for the EP. I just don’t put random songs together. I’m always intentional about my music and project, and like to tell a story. But that failed; thanks to the distro.

Even my agreement with them that I’d put up the EP on my Audiomack profile failed. After I uploaded it to Audiomack and the EP started gathering substantial streams, they flagged it down and put up my project from their own end. That was messed up. So, I stopped allowing the manager to distribute my music. I took over that responsibility completely.

I’m not trying to paint him as bad. He’s a good guy, but sucks as a manager. There was never a time that people talked to me or reached out to say, “Hey, your manager wants us to do this.” Or say, “We are here because of your manager.” Nothing like that. So, if my manager has no interest in putting our work in mind, there’s no point doing anything together.

READ NEXT: He Told Me I Couldn’t Rap, Then Became My Friend and Locked Me in an NDA

“I stopped going back to them to ask for my royalty reports. It’s a futile request.” — VRSD, musician.

In 2022, I worked with a Nigerian distribution company that was supposed to be a solution to giving local artists a cheaper alternative to working with foreign distribution companies. I signed a 30/70 division and two-year contract with them. But they aren’t the most transparent. I have worked with them on one song, which is my biggest so far, and there isn’t much to show for it on the backends. I didn’t even get access to it until I added my lawyer to the conversation. We checked the backend, but the streaming platforms on the list they sent me were not up to five; meanwhile, the song is available on all DSPs.

To date, there has been no word, no solution, nothing. It has been aired, and I have not seen any royalties from it. And honestly, I stopped returning to them to ask for my royalty reports. It’s a futile request.

“What he wanted isn’t who I am. I will never diss anyone because of internet clout.” — Mxna, rapper and music producer.

We were at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, together. I was in Law, and he was in Architecture. However, he has an elder brother who studied Law and worked in the music industry. The brother owned a management company with another friend. So naturally, I felt the need to work with them because I needed to tap into the music scene in the city.

I got booked for a show in 2024, but the details and logistics were wonky. The event planner billed me to perform at 11 p.m. and added that if I didn’t show up at that time, there would be no performance for me, and they wouldn’t be held liable.

So, I asked my manager to clarify and confirm if the organisers meant they would be free of liability only if I got there late to perform or if faults came from their end. But he didn’t. So, we went in blindly. I got to the event at 8 p.m. to do my soundcheck, then headed to the hotel. When it was 11 p.m., no one called me to get on stage. I went around asking the organisers when I would perform. My manager, on the other hand, did nothing. He was just there, being walked over.

I waited from that time until 5 a.m. the following day. Nothing happened. My manager didn’t fight for me, and he didn’t flinch to make any effort. That was strike one.

Sometime after, in December, when I was in the village, the same event organiser who wasted our time and walked over my manager called me to diss another artist who had dissed Siraheem, the Okoya kid, to gain internet buzz and virality. The guy didn’t even apologise for wasting our time at the show.

I told him no and left it at that. I slept later that day and woke up later in the evening to my manager’s call. He was agitated, shouting on the phone, asking why I passed over a viral moment and let another artist run with the idea before me. What he wanted isn’t who I am. I will never diss anyone because of internet clout. Beef isn’t a growth strategy. I made that clear to him.

Then he started calling me emotional. That pained me, and I began to say less to him. That was strike two. But it was a lot on my chest. So, I called him and let it. I told him what he did and how I felt. We ironed it out.

The third and last strike was when I needed a new distributor. He was supposed to look into it, but he kept dancing around the conversation whenever I asked for updates. I became frustrated and told him the artist-manager relationship wasn’t working and we should split. All he said was, “Okay.” That statement revealed he never really cared and wasn’t concerned about what we were building.

“I had to resort to publicly calling them out on social media.” — Droxx, musician.

After deciding to release my music in 2021, I went to a distribution company based in Lagos because it seemed well-suited to support local musicians. The company took a 30% cut of his royalties but promised to focus on young, independent artists. Initially, the partnership was successful, with the distributor helping secure significant playlist placements for my first two singles.

However, the relationship quickly soured as the distributor’s support faded. I found it increasingly difficult to get my music released in a timely and accurate manner. I also faced a lack of transparency, as the company ignored my requests to view its streaming data and revenue. The distributor instead provided incomplete and inaccurate reports and refused to release my music catalogue until my earnings reached over $100. The distributor mishandled paperwork, messed up my data and provided nonsensical earnings reports. I decided to cut ties, but not without demanding my royalties.

The distributor went silent for six months after I asked them to close my catalogue and pay my outstanding royalties. I had to resort to publicly calling them out on social media. That prompted them to respond to me. However, the payment I received was less than what was owed.

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ALSO READ: A Journalist, a Musician, and a Filmmaker Walk Into a Room for a Film Screening

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Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

Jessica* (22) and Femi* (28) met at the store where she worked in April 2023 and struck up a friendship that blossomed into a romantic relationship. However, after twenty months of bliss together and meeting Femi’s family, he suddenly started acting differently, and one fateful day in December 2024, he stopped communicating completely.

In this story, she shares about their early days together, the pain of being ghosted by the man she loved, and how she is dealing with the aftermath.

Tell me how you guys met.

When I was 19, I was working at a store during my school break in April 2023. I noticed a familiar face, Femi, would come in to buy stuff every week. We struck up a friendly conversation the first two times he came in, and the third time, he asked for my number and we became friends.

How did your friendship blossom into a romantic relationship?

Femi and I just got each other. We talked a lot on the phone, and I found out he was 26 and wrapping up his education as a medical doctor. He visited the store where I worked often, and we would take walks around the estate nearby. He invited me to an art gallery a month later, and we went out for food afterwards. I followed him back to the hostel where he was staying, and he asked me to be his girlfriend. I already knew I liked him a lot by then, so I said yes.

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That sounds lovely. What were the early days of your relationship like?

It was lovely. We got along well, but we didn’t spend much time together physically before I had to travel back to school in another state the next month. The distance had nothing on us, though. He was very intentional and made sure we kept in touch with texts and phone calls. We had a perfect balance of our friendship and romance.

So when did the cracks in your relationship start to appear?

In November 2024, I travelled home to attend his induction ceremony and after-party. There, he introduced me to his family for the first time, and that’s where our issues began.

For context, I’m Igbo and he’s Yoruba. When I met his family, they were surprised by my ethnicity, but stayed polite the entire time. However, afterwards, I noticed that Femi’s attitude towards me completely changed. He became short-tempered and distant, and for the first time in our relationship, we were having serious arguments over little things like replying to messages late. I began to suspect that he was trying to use bad behaviour to force me to break up with him because his family didn’t want to accept my Igbo heritage.

READ NEXT: Sunken Ships: My Ex-Friends Never Ever Congratulated Me

Did you bring up this worry with him?

Yes I did but he dismissed it and said I was overthinking things. So I tried to settle many of our fights because I really liked him and I wanted us to work out. However, he did something I couldn’t overlook in December 2024.

Tell me what happened.

We agreed that I would visit him for a few days in December before I went home to my family to spend the holidays. The first red flag I noticed was that he didn’t text me to check in while I was travelling, which was very unusual for him. The second thing I noticed was that the house didn’t look like he was expecting a visitor, it was as if I came to see him on a random day. When I got to Femi’s place, he immediately said he wanted us to talk.

Femi said he was having emotional issues and didn’t feel like he was in a good place mentally. I got really worried, so I asked if he wanted me to leave early, but he insisted that I stay instead. It was an awful decision. I stayed at his place for three days, and he didn’t say more than ten words to me the entire time. The more I tried to connect with him, the more distant he became. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I got upset and went home.

Did he try to contact you after you left?

No, he didn’t. I left him a few messages, but I didn’t hear anything back. Then, each day after, I would send more messages and try to reach him, but he wouldn’t respond at all.

How did you take this?

I was very worried. He had told me he wasn’t in a good place mentally, and I was afraid he had done something to hurt himself or that he needed help but didn’t know how to ask for it. I didn’t have the numbers of any of his friends or family, so I could only keep texting him and hoping he was okay. This continued till I left the next year to resume school. On a random day back at school, it dawned on me while I was trying to reach out again that this man had ghosted me. I was so hurt.

I’m so sorry about that. What did you do next?

I blocked him everywhere and deleted every chat, photo and video we took together. It was very difficult forme because I had a big exam at school as soon as I resumed. Navigating heartbreak and high stakes exams were not easy at all.

I’m so sorry. What was the hardest part about this experience for you?

It was accepting his silence. I would have preferred it if he had sent a message telling me to never contact him again. Being left on read, not knowing what was going on, was the worst part of the entire situation. It left a mark on my heart.

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How has dating been since then?

I haven’t been dating. The lack of any closure with Femi has made it very difficult for me to move on or open up to other people. I have this fear that they’re going to hurt or abandon me one a random Thursday the same way that Femi did. I’ve decided to take my time to heal and recover from this before trying romance again.

Would you get back with Femi if he attempted to reconcile?

No. I would take the closure, but what he did was wicked. I will not give him my heart again.

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In a quiet street in Kano, 39-year-old Hafsat lives with an invisible pain rooted not in illness, but in the cultural violence committed against her two young daughters, both mutilated at birth.

“I remember both naming ceremonies, but not with joy,” she began, her voice shaking. “What should have been the happiest days of my life became the most painful.”

Hafsat’s first daughter was just seven days old when she was cut. That day, an elderly woman in her husband’s family took the child under the pretence of “preparation” for tradition. What followed were screams that still haunt Hafsat to this day.

“They cut her both down below and in her throat (With the belief it’s to help in preventing throat-related ailments). I cried all day,” she said.

When her second daughter was born three years later, Hafsat tried to save her from the genital mutilation her first had undergone. She endlessly pleaded with her husband’s relatives, but her pleas were ignored. During the naming ceremony, they struck again while she was distracted. Another scream. Another baby mutilated. Another heartbreak.

“I felt defeated. Like I had no power in my own child’s life,” she added.

The Menace That is Female Genital Mutilation (FGM)

Female Genital Mutilation is the partial or total removal of the external female genitalia, or other injury to the female genital organs, for non-medical reasons. It is a harmful traditional practice that is most often carried out on girls between infancy and age 15.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), this mutilation can be in various forms ranging from Clitoridectomy, the partial or total removal of the clitoris, Excision which entails removal of the clitoris and the labia minora (inner lips), sometimes also the labia majora (outer lips) Infibulation that is Narrowing of the vaginal opening by cutting and sewing together the labia and lastly, all other harmful procedures to the female genitalia for non-medical purposes (such as pricking, piercing, and scraping).

The practice remains a deeply rooted cultural practice in many parts of Nigeria, especially in rural communities. It is often hidden, silenced, or normalised, passed from one generation to another with dangerous myths of morality, purity, and discipline.
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In May 2015, the Nigerian National Assembly passed the Violence Against Persons Prohibition (VAPP) Act, a landmark law designed to address the escalating issue of violence against individuals, particularly gender-based violence.

The Act was introduced to bridge gaps in existing laws, providing a comprehensive framework to criminalise various forms of violence, including domestic abuse, sexual violence, and harmful traditional practices like FGM. Despite the existence of this powerful law, FGM persists in Nigeria.

As recently as 2024, the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) revealed that Nigeria accounts for the third highest burden of FGM globally, and “22% of the 68 million girls at risk of FGM between 2015 and 2030.”

An estimated 19.9 million Nigerian women and girls have been subjected to this harmful practice.

Nationally, about 20% of women aged 15-49 have undergone FGM. However, the numbers vary widely across regions and ethnic groups.

In Kano State, where Hafsat lives, the prevalence of FGM is lower compared to southern states and is often performed in secrecy by traditional practitioners known locally as wanzamai, especially in rural villages like the one her husband hails from.

Silence is an enforcer…

The Public Relations Officer (PPRO) of the Kano State Police Command, SP Abdullahi Haruna Kiyawa, in an interview, acknowledged that FGM is a crime under Nigerian law and punishable under the Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act (VAPP Act) and the Child Rights Act. However, he emphasised that enforcement has been a challenge.

“We rarely receive direct reports of FGM,” he explained. “In most cases, people are either afraid to speak up or don’t even know it’s illegal.”

For Hafsat, breaking that silence didn’t come easily. For years, she carried the pain and guilt of what happened to her daughter in silence, afraid of backlash from family members and neighbours who still view FGM as a cultural obligation. “I thought speaking out would bring disgrace to my family or even get me into trouble,” she said, her voice trembling. “But when I learned from a radio program that it’s actually a crime, something shifted in me. I realised I wasn’t alone and I had to speak for my child.”

When I approached her for an interview, she said something in the way I asked made her feel seen and not judged. “I felt like you really wanted to understand, not just report,” she explained. “That gave me the courage to finally talk.”

Even then, it took time for Hafsat to gather the courage. She struggled with the fear of being judged or rejected by her community. “I kept asking myself, what if they say I’m betraying my culture?” she confessed. “But then I thought about my daughter’s future, which was more important than what anyone would say.” Hafsat’s case sheds light on the invisible barriers many mothers face that keep FGM hidden, and victims voiceless.

Rashida Aminu, Head of Sexual and Gender-Based Violence and the Spokesperson with the National Agency for the Prohibition of Trafficking in Persons (NAPTIP) in Kano, said the agency’s experience with FGM-related cases reveals a disturbing trend of silence. “People do not open up. Even when mothers are unhappy about what happened, they feel powerless due to fear of divorce, societal shame, or rejection,” she said.

Hafsat’s experience highlights this reality. “I considered reporting, but I’m scared,” she said. “If you speak out, you could lose your children or your home. I have nowhere else to go.”

“My husband is a traditional man who listens more to his older brother than to his wife”. After the first incident, Hafsat objected to the practice. But her husband silenced her.

“He warned me never to speak of it again. He said a woman must support the culture of her husband’s people.”

When she protested again after their second daughter was cut, he threatened to send her back to her late father’s house, a threat she believes he may one day carry out.

“I live with fear. We hardly speak now unless it’s about money or food,” she added. “This has killed the peace in our marriage.”

FGM has no health benefits. Instead, it causes severe pain, infections, childbirth complications, emotional trauma, and long-term reproductive issues. Hafsat shared how her daughters cried for days after the mutilation

“My first daughter had an infection. I had to take her secretly to a health centre,” Hafsat said. “Even now, they complain of pain while urinating”

But beyond physical pain, the emotional scars are deeper. “They no longer smile like before. It’s like something was taken not just from their bodies, but from their soul.

Commenting on this, Dr. Aisha Bello, a paediatrician specialist in child health and trauma recovery, explains that the symptoms described by Hafsat are not uncommon in girls who have undergone FGM. “Recurrent urinary tract infections, painful urination, and long-term reproductive complications are among the most reported consequences of the practice,” she explained.

“What makes it worse is when these children suffer in silence, and parents are too afraid to seek timely medical care due to cultural pressure or fear of exposure,” She added.

The emotional and psychological impact can be just as severe. Child Psychologist Ibrahim Sule noted that even at a young age, girls can internalise trauma. “Pain linked to a trusted adult or caregiver, especially when it’s not understood, can result in anxiety, withdrawal, or fear of touch. These signs are often dismissed or misinterpreted,” he said. “In the case of Hafsat’s children, seeking help was the right step.

Efforts to end FGM in Nigeria are ongoing. Civil society groups, faith-based organisations and international agencies like the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund (UNICEF) and United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) continue to run awareness campaigns. But challenges persist, especially in areas where silence and tradition override laws and rights. Experts recommend more community-based dialogues, survivor-led storytelling, and legal support for victims who wish to speak out.

Speaking on what the Kano State NAPTIP is doing to help victims and mothers like Hafsat, its spokesperson, Rashida Aminu, highlighted that the agency currently provides legal support and counselling for victims and mothers like Hafsat, adding also that more still needs to be done in terms of community sensitisation and the establishment of safe spaces. “We try to work with traditional leaders, religious leaders, and institutions to shift harmful narratives, but the stigma is still very strong. We need more public education, and we need to assure mothers that they will not be left alone,” she added.

There’s also a need to empower women economically, so they can stand up to harmful practices without the fear of abandonment. For Hafsat, hope lies in her daughters’ healing and education.

“What would make me happiest”, she says, “is to see them grow up safe, educated, and free from this harmful tradition.”

Ever had a moment where Nigeria’s systems made life harder—or unexpectedly easier? We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us here—we’d love to hear from you!
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The Federal Government under Tinubu has not released a Quarterly Budget Implementation Report since the one for the second quarter of 2024. That was four quarters ago—a full fiscal year—since they last bothered to tell Nigerians how their money was being spent.

What is a Quarterly Budget Implementation Report, and why does it matter?

Every year, the government draws up a budget and presents it to the National Assembly (NASS) for approval. For example, in 2025, NASS approved a whopping N54.99 trillion. That is almost double the 2024 budget of N27.5 trillion.

The Fiscal Responsibility Act of 2007, which sets the rules for government financial management, requires the Federal Government, through the Ministry of Finance, to provide reports on how the approved budget is being implemented.

Section 30(1) of the Act says:

“The Minister of Finance, through the Budget Office of the Federation, shall monitor and evaluate the implementation of the Annual Budget, assess the attainment of the fiscal targets and report thereon on a quarterly basis to the Fiscal Responsibility Council and the Joint Finance Committee of the National Assembly.”

In simple terms, the Federal Government has to explain how the money NASS has allowed them to spend is actually being utilised. These reports show whether the budget goals are being met and explain any failures or changes.

Most importantly, these reports are meant for the public.

Section 30(2) reads:

“The Minister of Finance shall cause the report prepared pursuant to subsection (1) of this section to be published in the mass and electronic media and on Ministry of Finance website, not later than 30 days after the end of each quarter.”

This means the reports should be published publicly, including on the Ministry of Finance website, so every Nigerian can access them and hold the government accountable.

Denying the public information through ineptitude?

We visited the Ministry of Finance’s website, where the Act says the reports should be published, and it was an experience that would be funny if it was not so annoying.

The User Interface (UI) is as predictably poor as it is disappointing. When Nigerian government websites will catch up to modern standards remains an open question.

Clicking on the “Documents” section takes you to a page showing what look like budget folders. You might wonder why these “documents” are not clickable until you realise you are looking at an image.

Inspecting the image shows the file name: “Screenshot-2024-07-13-170156.jpg.” Why the Federal Ministry of Finance has a screenshot from July 2024 instead of actual documents is baffling.

Is this just incompetence, or a deliberate attempt to deny Nigerians access to information they have a right to?

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Why does the failure to publish these reports matter?

While the Quarterly Budget Implementation Reports are missing from the Finance Ministry website, they can be found on the Budget Office of the Federation’s website. The records there start in 2009 and stop at the second quarter of 2024.

We have already established that these reports are a key way for the public to hold the government to account and ensure public funds are being spent as planned and approved by NASS.

That the reports are no longer being published is especially worrying in 2025. The budget of N54.99 trillion is the biggest ever and massive compared to previous years. In 2024, it was N27.5 trillion. In 2023, N21.83 trillion. In 2022, N13.08 trillion. And in 2021, N10.8 trillion.

Also, this July, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) said the Federal Government needs to adjust the 2025 budget because it does not reflect lower oil prices, which affect how much Nigeria earns. In short, Nigeria is making far less from oil than the government had planned when writing the budget.

Government spending has gone up dramatically, yet Nigerians have not seen a similar improvement in their quality of life. In addition to the fact that revenue is lower than expected, it becomes clear that Nigerians need to be informed about how their public wealth is being used.

The Federal Government’s decision to abandon its legal duty to publish these reports is disturbing and demands urgent action.

What can you do about this?
- Use whatever platform you have, including social media, to demand accountability from the government.
- Start an online petition to push for the release of the quarterly reports. Platforms like this one are pretty easy to navigate.
- Call your representative in the National Assembly (NASS). The Fiscal Responsibility Act makes the Ministry of Finance accountable to the Finance Committee of NASS. So NASS must be pressured to do its job and call the Federal Government to order. To find the contact of the lawmaker representing your constituency at NASS, click here.
- Share this article to raise awareness about the issue.
Ever had a moment where Nigeria’s systems made life harder—or unexpectedly easier? We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us here—we’d love to hear from you!

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If you’ve enjoyed the previous editions of our Nigeria’s Current Affairs quiz (editions 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5), you’ll love this edition even more. From major political moments to key decisions shaping Nigeria today, this 15-question quiz will challenge how well you really know the country’s political landscape.

Ready to flex your muscles again?

What is the name of the Nigerian female basketball team?

Super Falcons

The Falconets

D’Tigress

Nigeria’s female basketball team is called D’Tigress. With a record seven-time win (five of which were consecutive) of the AfroBasket title, D’Tigress is Africa’s most successful female basketball team. It is also the only African team to rank in the FIBA top ten.

Which prominent Nigerian is featured on the 1000 naira note?

Clement Isong

Aminu Tambuwal

Nnamdi Azikiwe

It’s Clement Isong. Isong was a Nigerian banker and politician who served as governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) from 1967 to 1975. A few years after he retired from the CBN, he won an election that saw him become the first civilian Governor of Cross River State and served from 1979 to 1983.

Acclaimed Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, hails from one of the following states

Anambra

Enugu

Ebonyi

It’s Anambra state. Though Adichie was born and raised in Enugu State, Anambra is her state of origin.

What is the name of the new coalition party seeking to unseat Bola Tinubu?

APP

ADC

AAC

The answer is ADC. The African Democratic Party (ADC) is the party under which the new coalition sits. Big politicians like Atiku Abubaar, Peter Obi, and El Rufai currently camp in this party and are hopeful to contest the 2027 election under the platform.

Which of these past Nigerian presidents has passed on?

Olusegun Obasanjo

Muhammadu Buhari

Gooduck Jonathan

The answer is Muhammadu Buhari. The immediate former Nigerian president died on July 13, 2025, in a London hospital at the age of 82.

In which Nigerian State is the three-arm zone located?

Lagos State

FCT

Rivers State

The three-arm zone is located in the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Abuja. This area is so named because the headquarters of the three arms of government—the Executive (Presidential Villa), the Legislature (National Assembly), and the Judiciary (Supreme Court)— are situated there.

How many ministers of petroleum resources does Nigeria have?

One

Two

Three

The answer is two. Nigeria’s ministers of petroleum resources are Heineken Lokpobiri, the minister of state for petroleum resources (oil), and Ekperipe Ekpo, the minister of state for petroleum resources (gas). Tinubu created the second position because he believes the country should focus on gas as much as it focuses on oil.

One of the following was the minister of petroleum resources during former President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration?

Heineken Lokpobiri

Ibe Kachikwu

Muhammadu Buhari

Muhammadu Buhari served as the Minister of Petroleum Resources during his time as President. However, he appointed Ibe Kachikwu (2015–2019) as Minister of State for Petroleum Resources. Kachikwu was later removed from the position, and Timipre Sylva was appointed (2019—2023).

How many geopolitical zones is Nigeria divided into?

Six

Nine

Seven

The answer is six. Nigeria’s geopolitical zones include the Southwest, Southeast, South-South, North-Central, Northwest, and Northeast.

Which Nigerian state is famous for its bronze artefacts?

Lagos state

Edo state

Kwara state

Edo State is renowned for its Benin Bronzes, a collective name for over 5,000 artefacts (made of bronze and brass) created in the 13th to 16th centuries in the powerful Benin Kingdom in present-day Edo State. These artefacts were looted by Britain when its troops invaded Benin City in 1897.

Which of the following regional blocs is Nigeria a member of?

AU

ECOWAS

UN

The AU and the UN are not regional blocs. The answer is ECOWAS. The Economic Community Of West African States (ECOWAS) is a regional group founded in 1975 to “promote economic integration in all fields of economic activity, particularly industry, transport, telecommunications, energy, agriculture, natural resources, commerce, monetary and financial questions, social and cultural matters…”

When did Nigeria last conduct a census?

2013

2006

2018

Nigeria’s last census was conducted in 2006. At that time, it recorded a population of 140 million people. The country is now long overdue for another census, as the last one was conducted nearly two decades ago.

Who is Nigeria’s Minister of Marine and Blue Economy?

Adegboyega Oyetola

Rotimi Amaechi

Femi Gbajabiamila

Adegboyega Oyetola is the Minister of Marine and Blue Economy, a ministry created to “explore, protect, and unlock the tremendous potential” of Nigeria’s “marine heritage and the vast opportunities it presents for economic growth and sustainable development.”

Which of the following Nigerian agricultural products has been to space?

Cocoa

Egusi

Millet

It’s egusi. On July 31, 2025, egusi was sent to space via NASA’s rocket as part of an experiment facilitated by the Founder of Space in Africa, Temidayo Oniosun, in collaboration with The Karman Project and Jaguar Space LLC. You can find out more here.

What is the full meaning of FEC?

Federal Examination Council

Federal Executive Council

Foundational Examination Council

FEC stands for the Federal Executive Council, a cabinet headed by the Nigerian president and consisting of appointed government officials. This council deliberates and decides on important national and foreign matters that concern the nation.

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On Saturday, 9th August 2025, Guinness Nigeria, proud sponsor of Big Brother Naija Season 10, hosted its very first Saturday party of the season, and it was the perfect way to set the tone for the weeks ahead.

As part of its Black Shines Brightest campaign, Guinness brought the housemates together for a Shine Party filled with music, style, and bold self-expression. The Black Shines Brightest campaign celebrates the creativity, individuality, and vibrant energy of young Africans who are making their mark and inspiring others to do the same, and this Saturday night’s party was a perfect example, as it was a space where housemates could break the ice, connect, and show their personalities without holding back.

The venue came alive with Guinness-branded neon prints casting a warm glow over the space. The DJ’s beats kept the dance floor moving, while laughter and conversation flowed easily among the housemates. It was more than just music and lights; it was a setting designed for connection.

Fashion was just as much a highlight as the music, with sleek black outfits and bold statement pieces reflecting the confidence and originality of Guinness champions. All around, housemates raised their drinks and poured with joy, keeping the dance floor alive for a celebration of connection and the fearless pursuit of self-expression, with Guinness at the heart of it all.

By the time the night reached its peak, the energy in the room was undeniable. The first Guinness Saturday party of the season had done more than entertain, it had set the tone for a season where boldness, unity, and creativity will take centre stage.

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On Monday, August 11, Comfort Emmanson, an Ibom Air passenger, was remanded in the Kirikiri correctional facility and placed on a lifetime no-fly ban over an incident between her and the airline’s staff member.

Since news of this broke out, Nigerians on various social media platforms have compared the outcome of Emmanson’s case to that of popular Fuji musician Wasiu Ayinde Marshal (popularly known as KWAM 1), who was in a similar situation some days ago.

This article breaks down what happened in both cases and how the authorities reacted. We also examine the legality of Emmason’s detention and the no-fly ban.

KWAM 1’s situation

On Wednesday, August 6, videos circulated on social media showing KWAM 1 in what appeared to be a scuffle with the staff of Valujet Airline over his attempt to board a flight with a liquid suspected to be alcohol, which is prohibited according to Nigeria’s Civil Aviation Security Programme and ICAO Annex 17.

Shortly after, the Federal Airports Authority of Nigeria (FAAN) released a statement saying KWAM 1 had indeed breached aviation regulations.

According to FAAN spokesperson, Obiageli Orah, KWAM 1 attempted to bring an alcohol-filled flask aboard the flight but was told by a flight attendant to comply with aviation rules, which banned liquids above 100ml.

The Fuji singer reportedly refused and proceeded to pour the liquid on the officer, who later confirmed it to be alcohol.

The singer was also seen in viral videos blocking the aeroplane from takeoff with his body while the pilot on duty attempted to proceed.
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Outcome of KWAM 1’s situation

On Wednesday, August 6, the Nigeria Civil Aviation Authority (NCAA) suspended the two pilots involved in the incident for breach of safety protocols.

Following public outrage over KWAM 1’s actions, as seen in the viral videos, he was placed on a six-month no-fly ban on Wednesday. However, the next day, Thursday, August 7, it was reversed to an indefinite ban, which will be decided pending the conclusion of an investigation.

In a statement released on Wednesday through his spokesperson, Kunle Rasheed, KWAM 1 dismissed the allegations, claiming they were exaggerated.

But on Friday, August 9, he released another statement through his spokesperson, apologising for the incident, which he described as “unfortunate,” maintaining that the liquid was not alcohol.

“Unknown to many, I suffer from chronic dehydration, and my doctor strongly advised that I remain constantly hydrated. This is why I always carry a water flask with me. And contrary to the negative narrative circulated in some quarters, the flask I carried on that particular day contained only water, not alcohol, as wrongly alleged,” he said in part.

Following his apology, the Chairman/CEO of the Nigerians in Diaspora Commission (NiDCOM), Abike Dabiri-Erewa, posted the singer’s apology on her official X account, calling for his forgiveness.

From a government official, this sounds less like forgiveness and more like endorsement of VIP impunity.

Absolutely ill-advised!

If it were an ordinary Nigerian, would “to err is human” still trend – or would they be cooling off in custody? The bigger tragedy? Our incurable…
— Taiwo Danjuma🇳🇬🇨🇭🇬🇧 (@TaiwoDanjuma) August 9, 2025

The post drew criticism from many Nigerians, who questioned why a government official was making a case for the singer.

Comfort Emmanson’s situation

KWAM 1’s case was still under discussion when another viral video surfaced on social media on Monday, August 11. The video shows a similar incident between an Ibom Air passenger identified as Comfort Emmanson.

In an initial video, Emmanson was seen in a physical altercation with a female airline staff member who appeared ruffled.

In another video, Emmanson was seen physically resisting other airline staff attempting to take her away. Her blouse, which was torn in the process, indecently exposed her body.

Outcome of Comfort Emmanson’s situation

Shortly after the video made rounds on social media, the Special Adviser on Media and Communications to the Minister of Aviation and Aerospace Development, Tunde Moshood, released a statement saying Emmanson had been charged to court and remanded in the Kirikiri correctional facility.

The same day, the spokesperson of the Airline Operators of Nigeria (AON), Obiora Okonkwo, released a statement announcing that it had placed a lifetime no-fly ban on Emmanson.

“The incident, which Ibom Air described, from the initial refusal by the passenger to comply with safety instructions regarding mobile phone usage, which led to the brutal physical assault on Ibom Air crew members and the attempted use of a fire extinguisher as a weapon.”

“She is hereby banned from flying with any AON member, either domestically or internationally, for life,” the statement read in part.

Selective Justice?

The unfortunate and dishonourable drama witnessed in Ibom Air has again brought to the fore the double standards in our lives and the inadequacies of our various security operatives in acting decently and in a civilised manner.

I want to start by sincerely apologising to the… pic.twitter.com/IGSftUpwCx
— Peter Obi (@PeterObi) August 11, 2025

Following the announcement of Emmanson’s detention and lifetime ban, Nigerians on social media pointed out the disparities in how authorities handled her case and how they handled that of KWAM 1

Another video suggests Comfort Emmanson may have been treated poorly

There are always two sides to every story. Know that those air hostesses are like Nigerian nurses with a smiling face

Watch a clip of Comfort's account. pic.twitter.com/H01Ec4EmPR
— Mimi (@Mimi_yakigar) August 11, 2025

Following the announcement of Emmanson’s lifetime no-fly ban and detention, more videos surfaced online, showing the Ibom Air passenger may have been treated badly by the airline staff. In one of the videos, the female hostess in the earlier video could be seen blocking the aircraft’s entrance, preventing Emmanson from exiting, while Emmanson asked to be let out.

Eyewitnesses back Emmanson

Multiple eye witnesses say she was PUSHED to her seat by the air hostess and held for everyone to alight from the plane.
Her offence: Not turning off her phone, even after putting it on airplane mode.

Then you have people, especially unfortunate celebrities dunking on her for… pic.twitter.com/fOpGQT5ASc
— Son Of Ayo (@TheAjakeManger) August 12, 2025

As Nigerians called out Nigerian authorities for their treatment of Comfort Emmanson, more evidence which absolved the female passenger of some blame began to surface.

The air hostess provoked the lady first. It's more like a setup https://t.co/YvsJGH2xYj pic.twitter.com/UzJ2uZZIqG
— Ohamadike (@Ohamadikae) August 11, 2025

Emmanson’s detention is illegal

Since the escalation of Emmanson’s detention and no-fly ban, Nigerians have debated the legality of the measures taken against her.

Speaking on the issue, Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN) Dr. Monday Ubani clarified that her detention goes against her right to a fair hearing under Section 36(1) of the 1999 Constitution.

‎“The AON’s unilateral action, without affording the passenger an opportunity to be heard, breaches the principle of audi alteram partem,” Ubani said, pointing out that the no-fly ban also violated her flights to movement within and outside Nigeria.

“The AON’s unilateral action to impose a lifetime industry-wide ban, without affording the passenger the opportunity to be heard, violates the principle of audi alteram partem.”

“While an individual airline may refuse carriage to a passenger for safety reasons under its contractual rights, an industry-wide lifetime ban by a trade association like AON amounts to a de facto travel ban. This type of sanction has nationwide and international implications.

The life-time ban constitutes a restriction on a constitutional right without a court order,” he continued.

Human rights lawyer, Professor Chidi Odinkalu, has also called out the illegalities spotted in the issue.

In a post on his official X page, Odinkalu shared a photo of Emmanson’s remand order, pointing out that the date used is illegal.

This is the warrant on the basis of which this young woman in the @ibomairlines saga is held at the Kirikiri Prisons. Note that it is dated 11 October 2025.

A post-dated committal warrant is not lawful on its face. In any case, what is the justification for remand until 6 Oct?! pic.twitter.com/OOc23DVy2p
— Chidi Odinkalu, CGoF (@ChidiOdinkalu) August 12, 2025

Not the first time

While Nigerians continue to highlight the disparity in how KWAM 1 and Emmanson’s situation is handled in hopes that it will be rectified, there is a probability that it won’t, as this is not the first time Nigerian authorities have acted selectively in delivering justice.

In January 2025, for instance, Raheem Okoya, son of billionaire businessman Chief Razaq Okoya, was seen in a viral video engaging in Naira abuse at an event. However, he was not detained or imprisoned like others who had committed the crime before him. Instead, he was let off after he tendered a public apology, just as popular musician and close associate of Bola Tinubu Kwam 1, has done.

Similarly, in May 2025, Chief Government Ekpemupolo, popularly known as Tompolo, was seen abusing the Naira in a viral video. Nigerians called on the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission(EFCC) to punish Tompolo like it had done to other culprits, but this never happened.

What can you do to change the story?

While it is true that Nigerian authorities are selective in their duties, citizens can also compel them to do the right thing. In Kwam 1 and Emmanson’s case, you can do either of the following:
- Talk about it on social media and pressure the government to release Comfort Emmanson from the Kirikiri correctional facility.
- Use social media to pressure the government to do due diligence with Kwam 1 and follow through with it
- Create online petitions calling on the appropriate authorities to release Emmanson, properly investigate the matter, penalise all parties fairly and accordingly. You can create an online campaign here.
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Ever had a moment where Nigeria’s systems made life harder or unexpectedly easier? We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us here—we’d love to hear from you!
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Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

Yemi* (23) met Denrele* (24) at her cousin’s church in her final semester. They clicked instantly and, for a while, it seemed like they were heading toward an official relationship.

But things unravelled when Denrele said he couldn’t date her because he wanted to “focus on his relationship with God” while still trying to get her to come over to his place.

How did you guys meet?

I saw Denrele for the first time at my cousin’s church in November 2024. I was in school, wrapping up my final semester, and she invited me to a service. I went even though I don’t enjoy church services away from my home church. There, I saw a gorgeous man with fresh skin and dimples sitting in my field of view, and I was immediately smitten. When I asked, my cousin said he was their church’s keyboardist. She introduced us after the service, and I decided then and there that I was getting his number.

I love the confidence. Did you walk up to him to ask for it?

No, o. I got his number from my best friend who was in the choir at the church. She was hesitant to share his number at first. She said one of our mutual acquaintances was in a talking stage with him but Denrele had confided in her that it wasn’t going anywhere. So I convinced her to give it to me, and I messaged him to introduce myself the following Monday.

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How did he respond?

He was wary at first. He wasn’t sure who I was because we were introduced in passing, but when I complimented his smile and dimples, he became more open. We started talking regularly and arranged a meet-up at my school only three days after our first texts.

Ah, that fast?

Yeah! We matched each other’s energy pretty well. We talked about almost everything: past relationships, school troubles, church and more, so it was easy to say yes when he asked to meet. We hung out on campus the first two times we saw each other, and it was great. The third time we met, I went to his place and had a great time hanging out with him, but while I was there, a red flag popped up.

Tell me about that.

The acquaintance I mentioned earlier, who was in a talking stage with him, called. I overheard her apologising for the way she had behaved, and she asked to come to his place to see him. Denrele lied that he wasn’t home and said he was on a date. When the call ended, I told him I didn’t want to start drama with any other people he was seeing, but he quickly denied it. He said they were just friends and nothing was happening there. I told him it was obvious that she liked him but he insisted she was just being friendly and he would have a talk with her to clarify their relationship properly.

Here’s your next read: Sunken Ships: My Ex-Friends Never Ever Congratulated Me

Did you believe him?

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt even though I still had my suspicions. The following Friday, he invited me over to his place again. While there, I overheard his neighbours fighting and tried to eavesdrop at his window. When I turned back to him, he was standing very close to me and asked to kiss me. I said yes, and our first kiss made me forget any suspicions of another woman. We ended up making out for a while, which was not in my plans so I made some excuses and went home. As soon as I got back to my room, my roommates knew that something had happened between us and started teasing me about leading the church keyboardist astray.

Did that offend you?

Not at all, it was funny. They kept telling me not to break his heart like I was a menace to men’s hearts.

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Okay, what happened next?

We started hanging out a lot. He met my close friends and family who stayed in the city, and it was becoming more and more obvious to other people that we were a thing, even though we weren’t official. In December, I had to go home to my parents in Lagos because my school went on strike, so this meant Denrele and I were mostly speaking on the phone.

Did the time apart affect your relationship with him?

Not at first. We were speaking on the phone and texting into the new year. In January 2025, before I went back to school, I asked him to clarify where our relationship was going because we acted like more than friends. His reply surprised me.

What did he say?

He said he would prefer to have that conversation with me in person so we should wait till after the strike was called off. That answer satisfied me at first but then, an old flame I had an on and off relationship with invited me out while I was in Lagos and kissed me. I didn’t know if I should have felt bad about it because Denrele and I were still unlabelled.

Did you bring up the topic with Denrele again?

Yes, I did, and I was insistent this time. I told him I don’t like unlabelled situationships, and I wanted to know what we were doing. That was when he told me he couldn’t be in a romantic relationship because he wanted to focus on God and grow his relationship with Him.

Ah.

I was shocked too. Denrele was always the one to initiate any hangouts or intimate moments we had, so it was surprising to me that his excuse was that he wanted to focus on his spirituality. I told him that it didn’t work for me, and we should return to being casual friends.

How did he take that?

Denrele refused. He said he couldn’t go back to being just friends with me because he was in love with me. That shocked me even more. I didn’t think we had enough history for love to come into the picture but he said he couldn’t let me go and he wanted me in his life. I was still confused about what to do so I went to vent to my best friend and that’s when more information started coming to light.

What did you find out?

Apparently, the “focusing on God” line is his catchphrase. When I told my best friend, she said the conversation sounded familiar and went to check her chats. That’s when I found out that he said almost the exact thing to the girl who was trying to come over the first time I went to his place. While he was telling me that he would clarify their relationship, he was telling her that he couldn’t continue with her because he was focusing on his relationship with God. My best friend got screenshots of his conversation with the babe, and when we compared it with mine, the only difference was that he didn’t tell her he was in love with her. I was stunned.

What did you do after this?

Nothing. They called off the strike right after, and I resumed school. When I went to church, he acted friendly and like nothing had happened. We had reduced our communication after I found out he was telling the other girl the same thing he told me, but after he saw me in church, he ramped up the number of texts he sent me.

What was he saying?

He kept asking me to come over and saying how much he loved and missed me. I had already mentally checked out by then, but I had wrapped up my semester and was going back home to Lagos in a few days. So I went to see him one last time for closure but I didn’t tell him it was the last time.

I told him I was going back to Lagos permanently a few days later and he started begging me to come over again. Unfortunately for him, I was already in the bus home when he sent me that.

Did he reach out to you after you got back to Lagos?

Yes, he did, but I’ve put that chapter with him behind me. I’m now looking to the Lagos men to satisfy my romantic needs. That’s a story for another day, sha.

Would you get back together with Denrele if he reached out?

No. Like I said, I’ve put that relationship behind me. But if he ever did, I’d tell him that I, too, want to focus on my relationship with God.

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The APC is just two senators shy of a two-thirds majority in the Senate, and it feels like every other week we hear about another defection from the opposition. The idea of a one-party system is not just speculation anymore—it is starting to look like a very real possibility.

Defections, coalitions, and alliances are not new in Nigerian politics. But why is it so easy for politicians to switch sides, team up, fall out, reconcile—and then fall out again? Why does it matter so little which party a candidate belongs to? And why has it become normal for serving officials to switch parties mid-term?

The simplest answer? Ideology—or rather, the lack of it.

Victoria Oladipo, a political scientist and founder of Learn Politics NG, an organisation focused on making political education accessible, believes defections are so common in Nigeria because politicians view it as “A quest for power.”

The ideology of party politics

In places like the United States and much of Europe, politics is shaped by deep ideological divides—liberal versus conservative, left versus right. Parties are built around these core beliefs. For instance, Republicans (typically conservative) believe in lowering taxes and reducing government spending, while Democrats (typically liberal) believe that taxes should be scaled according to income and that the government should invest in providing services, such as healthcare, for the less fortunate. The tug-of-war between them defines the political landscape.

It is not just rare for politicians to switch parties in that kind of system—it is risky. It means changing your entire brand, your rhetoric, and sometimes even your values. If a politician truly believes in their party’s ideology, then jumping ship is basically off the table.

But Nigeria’s political system is built differently, and it didn’t start today.

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Na ideology we go chop?

Post-colonial politics was immediately dominated by ethnically motivated regional parties, such as Obafemi Awolowo’s Action Group (AG) in the South West and Tafawa Balewa’s Northern People’s Congress (NPC) in the North.

These parties formed the foundation for the current trend of ethnically based political parties in Nigeria with regional strongholds: APGA in the South East, APC in the South West, and PDP in the South South and South East. Some are even more localised, like the NNPP in Kano.

This sort of political landscape allows for simpler, sentiment-based politics, where ideology and policy discussions often take a back seat and trivial things like ethnic loyalty and political settlement become the focus points of politicians’ campaigns. A more recent instance is Bola Tinubu, whose informal campaign slogan during the 2023 election, Emi Lokan, means “it is my turn.”

Nigerian politicians know what a largely politically illiterate populace wants to hear. And it is not ideological debates. The average Nigerian voter, typically religious and conservative, is not interested in culture wars or abstract political theory. They want real, tangible improvements in their lives. So promises of safer and better roads, steady electricity, and cheaper food are what move the needle here.

This reality was demonstrated in a 2022 study done ahead of the 2023 general elections. The study, which surveyed 1043 Nigerian voters found that 42 per cent of them wanted to hear political aspirants speak on insecurity, 28 per cent wanted to hear about the economy, while 23 per cent were more interested in job creation.

ALSO READ: Wrapped: Worst Nigerian Politicians of 2024

The loopholes in the Nigerian constitution is an enabler

Political scientist, Victoria Oladipo, believes the main reason Nigerian politicians defect so easily is because there is virtually nothing stopping them. “There are no consequences for such actions, and where there are no consequences for actions, people will do whatever they like,” she said.

A Quick Look at the 1999 Constitution confirms Victoria’s statement; It only addresses the defection of legislative members, stating that they are to vacate their seats if they switch parties mid-term. However, there is no such provision for executive office holders who abandon the parties that got them elected.

Even the law for legislators contains a convenient loophole that Nigerian politicians frequently exploit: it permits party switching if the legislator’s original party experiences a “division.”

As a result, politicians often claim internal divisions at the slightest opportunity and use that as a justification to defect.

The consequences of an ideology-free politics?

So what happens when all the parties end up saying the same things. Their manifestos are basically copy-paste: infrastructure, jobs, security, development. And if everyone is selling the same product, it becomes easy for politicians to switch brands without losing credibility. There is no need to rebrand or explain themselves—they simply keep selling the same promises under a new logo.

In a system where ideology does not matter, what does matter is perceived effectiveness. If every candidate is promising the same things, then the real competition is about who can deliver, or who can convince people that they will deliver.

In theory, this kind of system—where ideology is irrelevant and messaging is uniform—is tailor-made for a one-party setup. And that may be where Nigeria is headed.

Victoria disagrees with this line of thinking. “I do not think that we are eventually going to get to a one-party system,” she said, emphasizing that Nigerian politics is too diverse, with too many major players and big personalities to fit into a single party. She points to the cracks appearing in the opposition coalition under the umbrella of the ADC and their difficulty in deciding on a frontrunner for the 2027 presidential elections.

Victoria’s assessment mirrors that of Prince Adewole Adebayo, the 2023 presidential candidate of the Social Democratic Party (SDP). Speaking about the possibility of a one-party system, he said: “What makes a one-party state is when people think that they do not need any other party outside the one that is ruling, or when people are being forced by law not to create another party.”

Opposition leaders have accused the APC of having ambitions of a one-party state, though the APC leadership has denied it, stating that they do not need a one-party system to win elections.

ALSO READ: Is Politics a Dirty Game?

What do existing one-party states look like?

There are many countries practising one-party systems—some officially, others not so much. For instance, in Russia, there are 27 officially registered political parties. However, the ruling party, United Russia (UR), has held a parliamentary majority since 2007 and an absolute majority since 2016.

In China, the Communist Party of China (CPC) has held a monopoly on power since 1949. Though smaller parties are allowed to exist, they are all affiliated with the CPC and are not permitted any real power.

Singapore has been governed by the People’s Action Party (PAP) since its independence in 1965, though opposition parties are also allowed to exist and contest elections.

Russia, China and Singapore have very high Human Development Index (HDI) scores. Russia has an HDI of 0.832, China’s is 0.797, and Singapore’s is 0.946, indicating a generally high quality of life. However, all three countries are highly restrictive of freedoms, particularly in relation to political dissent, the press and freedom of expression. They score poorly on the Freedom of Expression Index, with Russia at 0.08, China at 0.04 and Singapore at 0.34.

To put it simply, while material gains and economic development are possible in one-party systems, they do not allow democratic norms to thrive. True democracy and its associated freedoms must be sacrificed at the altar of one-party progress.

Can we make a case for the current state of Nigerian politics?

Whether Nigerians are getting a fair deal in this ideologically poor, productivity-focused system would be a more interesting debate if Nigerian politicians were actually productive. If they delivered on their promises, we could have a discussion about whether the lost freedoms of a one-party system are worth it.

However, what we have in Nigeria is a recipe for disaster should a one-party system emerge. At present, the competition from opposition parties has not inspired the ruling party to improve its performance. So, what happens when there is no competition at all?

It is important to note that the ruling parties of Russia, China, and Singapore have fiercely nationalist ideologies. Importing the one-party system into Nigeria’s unique political environment is dangerous. Nigerian parties are more tribalistic than nationalist, so it actually risks worsening ethnic tensions.

Nigeria’s Gen Z democracy is still finding its feet

When asked why Nigerian politics is less structured when compared to some other countries, Victoria Oladipo pointed out that it is a young democracy which still has a long way to go.

“When you are 26 years old (like Nigeria’s democracy), you cannot have your whole life figured out,” she said. “I do not think that comparing Nigeria with established democracies like the United States is a fair way to look at things because Nigeria’s democracy is still quite young at 26, and America has over 200 years of democracy.”

However, she does not want that to be used as an excuse for complacency. “Still, when you are 26, you are old enough to know what you ought to do.” She wants to see Nigeria begin working towards consolidating democracy and believes a one-party system would be the wrong direction.

“I do not think there is any democracy that survives in a one-party system. Any form of government that only has one entity in power is not a democracy anymore. It is a façade of what democracy is.”

So much of Nigeria’s current leadership spent their early adulthood under military rule, and we may not see a democratic culture truly entrenched in Nigeria until those born post-1999 are old enough to take the reins of leadership.

Falling into the trap of a one-party system risks smothering our young democracy before it can truly come into its own, and its citizens can begin to reap its promised dividends.

How can the youth protect Nigeria’s democracy?

Victoria believes that strengthening multi-party politics in Nigeria requires a shift towards ideological and issue-based politics. “If we want to push ideology-based politics, we need to vote for candidates that represent the things that matter to us the most,” she said.

However, she noted that there is a gap in knowledge among Nigerian voters that prevents them from linking politics to the policies that affect their lives. To bridge this gap, she says organisations like Learn Politics NG have a big role to play. “Organisations like Learn Politics have to continue raising awareness and shaping political thinking to help people understand, draw conclusions, and make rational decisions. We need to educate citizens on the logic behind politics and why they have to vote a certain way to achieve the kind of Nigeria we desire.”

But Victoria does not want Nigerians to see voting as the only means of political engagement. She said: “I call voting and elections the highlight of democracy, but there are also many smaller, equally important factors like the relationship between citizens and the government. How often do citizens actually engage in the democratic process? For the kind of democracy we aspire to, we need to learn to speak out more. And I do not just mean protesting.”

She wants to see more citizens using democratic provisions such as the Freedom of Information Act, (which allowed a man in Ekiti to sue a local government chairman over the budget for a gate project) to hold their leaders accountable. “We cannot build the kind of democracy we want if we do not hold leaders accountable.”

“Another thing that we can do is to start joining political parties,” she said. But she wants to see more political participation even outside the existing political parties. “I am really hoping that the Independent Candidacy Bill will pass so that we will see how people can organise themselves outside of the established parties.”

Looking ahead to the 2027 elections and beyond, Victoria felt it was still too early to make any predictions about Nigeria’s political future. “I do not know what will happen; the political system is quite volatile,” she said. Whatever happens, she hopes for fairness and the continuation of Nigeria’s democratic plurality. “I would love to see, at the very least, free and fair elections. We deserve that much. And we need to maintain our democracy because it gives us something very important: freedom of choice.”

ALSO READ: What’s It Like Dating a Politician? We Asked 7 Nigerians

All opinions expressed by Victoria are solely her own and do not reflect the views of any individuals, organisations, or entities she is affiliated with or represents.

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When Ore Akinde, 25, picked up a crochet hook in university, she didn’t set out to build a fashion empire. It started as a creative outlet, a way to craft and experiment. But within a few years, what began as a side hustle has become a thriving fashion business with customers across Nigeria, the US, Canada, and Europe. Now, Ore is focused on building a sustainable ecosystem and redefining how Nigerians see handmade fashion.

Where It All Started

For Ore, crocheting started as a creative experiment. “I crocheted for fun,” she says. “But even from the start, I took it seriously.”

Her first piece was a humble collaboration with a photographer friend in 2017, styling a model in one of her handmade designs. “The photos never even made it out,” she laughs. “But that was the first time I imagined crochet as fashion, not just a primary school craft.”

Back then, crochet wasn’t the trend it is now. Nigerians still saw it as a home economics project, a pastime for school girls, not a wardrobe essential. “People didn’t wear crochet on their skin,” Ore explains. “They thought of it as bags or thick knitted sweaters. Knitting isn’t even the same thing. I had to introduce crochet as fashion.”

Ore’s edge was simple: she wore her brand everywhere. “I carried it on my head,” she says. “Everywhere I went, I wore crochet. Bags, tops, anything. People had to see it to understand it.” She became a walking billboard for a style no one believed in yet.

But crochet wasn’t her first venture. She tried selling Ankara. Then hairdressing. “Ankara was capital-intensive, and hairdressing was just too much labour for too little pay.” Crochet, however, clicked as she neared the end of her first year in university. Two years later, she landed her first major order — ₦100,000, a small fortune for a student. “That’s when I realised this wasn’t just a hobby. It could be something big.”

The Internship That Pushed Her to Bet on Herself

In her third year at the University, Ore interned at a chaotic radio station. The hours were brutal, salaries were delayed, and the experience was borderline exploitative. “I worked from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., pouring myself into tasks that yielded no income. Even after I left, my boss reached out to ask for a loan.”

That internship became a turning point. “It was clear that this environment wasn’t for me. My crochet side hustle was already making enough to pay my boss’s salary. So why wasn’t I doubling down on what was already working?”

At this time, Ore’s business was averaging ₦400k per month. But when the lockdown hit, everything changed. With the world stuck at home and shopping online, her revenue jumped to ₦700k, and the business began to take off.

To reach more international customers, she set up an Etsy store. It worked at first, but by 2021, the platform became unsustainable for her business. “Etsy was a great starting point,” she says, “but the fees and restrictions were holding us back. We needed to build our own website — a digital home that truly reflected the brand and made payments easier for our customers.”

That year, Ore’s monthly revenue climbed to ₦1 million, hiring five staff members across logistics and production to keep up with growing demand.

When she graduated in 2022, she had a choice: chase a 9–5 she didn’t believe in, or bet fully on the business that had financed her life in university: paying her school fees, rent, and even salaries for a small team of interns. It was time to bet on herself.

“I was scared,” she admits. “I’d never worked a proper job before, and running a company is different from running a one-woman hustle.” But she packed her bags, moved to Abuja, and leapt. “I did it afraid. I remember almost crying at the airport. My parents wanted me to finish NYSC and settle down first. But I knew if I didn’t start now, I might never.”

New Beginnings, and a Multi-Million Naira Revenue

Relocating to Abuja allowed Ore to focus on the business full-time, free from the demands of being a student. With more time and headspace, she could scale operations, taking on larger orders and running the business from her apartment. That same 2022, she hit her first ₦2–₦3 million in months. “One customer placed a ₦1.6 million order,” she recalls. “That motivated me.”

At this point, the business still ran like a side hustle. Interns were unofficial, and operations were fluid. “I was learning on the job,” Ore says. “Hiring people who didn’t meet expectations, not communicating because I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I’d prioritise their comfort over the business. That caused resentment.”

Another mistake she made was saying no out of fear. “I turned down so many opportunities because I didn’t feel ready. When the Oyo State government invited me to train women on crochet, I was young and thought, ‘What do I know?’ They reached out multiple times. I just ghosted them.”

It wasn’t until 2023 that Ore realised she needed to sit up and truly understand the business side of things. Until then, she had been winging it — no bookkeeping, structured operations, or clear financial systems. “I hadn’t properly understudied how real businesses worked,” she admits. “If I wanted to scale beyond a side hustle, I needed to do better.” That year, she began taking business operations and management courses, determined to transform her passion project into a structured, scalable brand.

Ore officially registered her company in Nigeria in 2023 and completed its US registration the following year.

2024: The Year She Rebuilt Her Business

By 2024, Ore had learned the hard lessons. She restructured the business from the ground up, drafting proper contracts for her staff, hiring an executive assistant, and expanding her team to 10 people, including a creative director, social media manager, lawyer, and a full production unit.

She also doubled down on marketing and operations, determined to move from a one-woman hustle to a well-rounded fashion company.

That year, she launched her first official collection: the First of Fall. “It was my attempt to move from being just a designer to a full-fledged fashion brand with seasonal collections,” she says. The launch was a success. Six outfits, gender-inclusive designs, bags, bikinis, and caps. “It was the first time I worked with an official photographer, models of different body types, and it paid off.”

But 2024 wasn’t all wins. Ore made a ₦5 million gamble on a girls’ collection that didn’t launch as planned. “We overshot. We spent so much on production, but the release was delayed for months. Sales didn’t come in as expected. It set us back.”

That period became her toughest, the “brokest” the business had ever been. Yet, it forced her to reevaluate. “I had to learn it’s okay to fail, to make mistakes, and to communicate better with my customers. That collection didn’t go as planned, but it became one of my most important learning experiences.”

Peak Moments and Ongoing Battles

By the end of 2024, Ore’s brand peaked with the Ozzy Jumper, a collaborative piece with fashion icon Ozzy Etomi. “It became our bestseller,” she says. “Over 200–300 orders. One was sold for ₦416K.” That piece was a breakthrough into new customer segments. “Ozzy is a trend setter.”

But beyond aesthetics, Ore’s real business pivot came with infrastructure. Registering in the US, integrating Stripe for payments, and setting up systems that allowed global customers to buy seamlessly. “Before, it was a struggle with PayPal, CashApp, Venmo. Now, we’re accessible in 190 countries.”

About 50% of her customers are in the US and Canada, 25% in Nigeria, and the rest are scattered across Europe and the UK. But growth hasn’t been linear. “In 2024, there were months we did ₦5 million, others ₦10 million. And sometimes orders dip, and we have to push harder.”

In hindsight, Ore wishes she had spent more time understanding business operations before diving in. “I was crocheting and learning as I went. It would’ve been helpful to understudy a real system.” Still, she’s making up for lost ground. Plans for a business MBA in Fashion Communication are in motion.

Expanding Beyond Fashion: Ruggings and New Frontiers

Beyond fashion, Ore is diversifying. She recently launched a second franchise, Ruggings, which she aims to firmly establish within Nigeria’s interior design space. Their first collection, a line of plushies, was released in July 2025, marking Ruggings’ official debut.

What’s Next for Ore Akinde?

Ore plans to release a new collection this summer, a key driver for 2025’s revenue. But beyond custom orders and viral jumpers, she’s focused on building a sustainable crochet fashion brand.

“In the next four to five years, I want my business to produce 100 to 200 orders a month,” she says. “We’ll have our own atelier, not just a small store, but a space that feels like a home for creativity. A place where outfits are made, yarns are designed, and rugs are crafted. It’ll be big enough to hold all my people working at once, and it’ll be busy because the business itself is thriving.”

Ore’s vision isn’t just about fashion; it’s about owning the supply chain. She plans to import her own yarn and eventually create custom yarn lines for other creatives. “I don’t want to just be a retailer. I want to be a producer.”

In the immediate future, she’s gearing up for pop-up events in Lagos and Ghana, her first venture into physical retail after years of made-to-order sales. “We’re taking it one step at a time. Walking too fast while carrying something heavy? You’ll fall. I don’t want that.”

But she’s also painfully aware of the cultural disconnect around handmade products in Nigeria. “People here don’t understand the effort. They think handmade should be cheap. So you have to find your people, the customers who get it. Branding and constant visibility are key. Always put your work out there.”

What keeps her grounded through entrepreneurship’s unpredictable highs and lows is simple: choice. “Every time it gets difficult, I remind myself I chose this. Business is wild. When it’s high, it’s very high. When it’s low, it’s low. But I’ve learned not to let the lows crush me or let the highs carry me away. It’s all about balance.”

Creativity, she’s learned, can’t be forced. “When my brain feels foggy, I don’t push. I let it rest. Ideas come back when they’re ready. Sometimes I even get them in my dreams, I wake up and jot them down before they run away.”

The atelier isn’t here yet. The studio and the in-house yarn production are still in the works. But for Ore, that’s the beauty of it. “I don’t just want a store. I want an ecosystem. A space where everything we create comes to life in its full expression. I’m carrying it carefully, one steady step at a time. There’s no point rushing to build something that can’t stand tall.

We’re focused on growing without compromising our production quality, prioritising quality over quantity, and staying true to handmade craftsmanship,” she says.

For Ore, what started as a personal hobby is now evolving into a hub where creativity, commerce, and craftsmanship co-exist.

Next Read: Nigerians Say My ₦250k Crochet Slippers Are Too Expensive. But I’m Building a Luxury Brand Like Dior

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