Welcome back, my people! Another Thursday, another reason to gather your mind, grab a seat, take a deep breath, and gist with me like we always do. As usual, we’re going straight into the matter, no long introduction, because Nigeria itself is already doing too much.
Today, let’s talk about a general issue affecting every Nigerian, whether you’re living in Lagos, Ibadan, Kaduna, Port Harcourt, Ijebu-Ode, or even abroad, but still sending money home. Yes, we are talking about the cost of living in Nigeria, also known as the “if you no strong, you go cry” phenomenon.
You see, Nigeria has turned all of us into mathematicians. We are calculating everything, the cost of food, transport, electricity, water, data, fuel, and even oxygen, is looking suspicious these days. You want to buy something, but before you bring out your wallet, you will pause, check your bank balance, check the price again, calculate the difference, whisper a short prayer, and then ask yourself, “Do I really need this thing?” That is how eggs turned from a basic ingredient to a luxury item. These days, to fry 3 eggs, you must think carefully. Is it hunger talking or greed?
Even garri, our last hope, is now behaving like it’s attending private university. And bread? Bread that used to be a comfort food is now a high-ranking officer. You see it on the shelf and you greet it with respect: “Good afternoon, sir. I’m just passing by.”
Transport fare too has joined the movement. Entering a bus in Lagos is now part of your cardio exercise. By the time you reach your destination, you’ve done a half-day workout: jump in, jump out, calculate change, hold your bag, check your phone, observe your surroundings, and pray silently. Then the conductor will still be shouting as if he bought the air you are breathing.
Electricity? Nigeria gives you two options: either you use light or you use your sense. Because if you leave everything plugged in, the next time you buy units, you will understand the true meaning of heartbreak. NEPA will bring light for 15 minutes and take it again, but the bill will show as if they powered your village for one week.
Let’s not even talk about fuel. Nigerians have suffered so much with fuel prices that nobody reacts again. You just see a new price and sigh like someone who has accepted fate. And the queues, ah! You’ll think it’s a movie premiere. Everybody is sweating, arguing, calculating, praying, and still buying.
Despite all this, Nigerians still find a way to laugh. Someone will say, “The country is hard,” and another will respond, “My sister, e go better,” even though both are silently asking God, “When exactly?” Nigerians will find humor even in the middle of economic chaos. We joke, we banter, we drag politicians, we advise each other, and we encourage ourselves.
But the truth is, the cost of living is not just about money. It affects our mental health. It affects our relationships. It affects our productivity. It affects our dreams. Some people are not angry; they are just hungry. Some people are not moody; their account balance is. Some people are not avoiding you; transport fare is avoiding them.
Yet, in all of this, Nigerians remain some of the strongest people you will ever meet. We improvise. We survive. We adapt. We look out for each other. If there’s one thing insecurity couldn’t snatch from us, it’s our resilience and our ability to keep going no matter the weight on our shoulders. We hustle, we pray, we laugh, we share, we hope, because hope is the one thing Nigeria has not taxed yet.
And that’s the beauty of this place: despite the struggles, we still believe that one day, things will work. One day, food will be affordable again. One day, salaries will match the cost of living. One day, we will enter supermarket without calculating like accountants. One day, our parents won’t have to do mathematics before buying pepper. One day, we will look back and say, “Ah, we survived.”
But until then, my people, hold on. Be smart with your spending. Eat well (as well as your account allows). Check on your people. Laugh when you can. Rest when you need to. And don’t let this country drain the softness out of you.
Another Thursday, another truth.
Same time next week, same seat, same vibe, same chronicles.
