In Nigeria, there’s a saying: “seeing is believing.” But even that belief system is under threat in a country where government projects are more about headlines than substance. Officials cut ribbons, pose for cameras, and declare victory, yet citizens on the ground often find abandoned structures, substandard installations, or nothing at all. The disconnect between announcement and reality has become a national norm.
Every week brings a new wave of jingles, sponsored content, and social media hype—usually about a newly “completed” project or a “transformation” effort. They say a road has been fixed, a school equipped, or power restored to a rural area. But when people go to confirm, they find that only the signboard was installed—or worse, that the power was never turned on. Nigeria has perfected the art of ceremonial development.
Nowhere is this more absurd than in our reaction to electricity. In some communities, the installation of a transformer sparks wild celebration. Drummers show up. Women dance. Religious leaders are invited to pray over the metal box like it’s a sacred altar. We throw parties for what should be routine government service—and call it progress.
This culture of celebrating the barest minimum reflects how deeply the system has failed. Years of broken promises have taught citizens to lower their expectations. When a town gets power for two days in a week, people act as if they’ve won a lottery. Meanwhile, leaders pat themselves on the back for solving problems they created.
According to the National Bureau of Statistics, the average Nigerian household receives just 6.6 hours of electricity per day. That adds up to roughly 2,409 hours in a year—out of a total 8,760 hours. In plain terms, Nigerians have access to electricity only 27% of the year. For the remaining 73%, it’s candles, fuel, generators, and frustration.
Even Aso Rock—the seat of presidential power—isn’t spared. In January 2025, vandals stole underground cables, plunging the Villa and over 60% of Abuja into darkness. In February, a technical fault knocked out power to more than 50 government facilities, including the Presidential Villa. In 2022, the Villa relied on generators for days during a nationwide blackout. If the highest office in the land can’t guarantee stable power, what hope is there for the ordinary citizen?
The economic cost is staggering. Nigeria loses an estimated $26 billion annually due to electricity shortages. Businesses spend an additional $22 billion each year on off-grid power solutions like diesel generators and solar backups. These numbers aren’t just statistics—they’re the weight of stunted economic growth, lost jobs, and shattered potential.
And still, many leaders don’t see this as an emergency. Rather than focus on long-term energy reform, they obsess over the next election cycle—chasing popularity, not legacy. Citizens’ needs take a back seat to campaign optics, and policy becomes theatre. If Nigeria’s leaders valued impact over image, electricity would have been fixed long ago.
But the problem doesn’t end with politicians. The media must also take responsibility. Too many publications continue to celebrate leaders who have failed to prioritize electricity—treating mediocrity as achievement. Going forward, power supply must become a non-negotiable standard for leadership appraisal. Any journalist or platform that glorifies ribbon-cuttings over results is not just enabling failure—they are complicit in it.
Electricity is not a luxury. It is a right. It powers hospitals, schools, businesses, and homes. In 2025, no Nigerian child should be doing homework by candlelight.
Yet, instead of fixing the grid or expanding renewable options, politicians hand out generators like campaign souvenirs. They exploit desperation and sell temporary fixes as permanent progress. But with strategic investment, enforcement, and the political will, constant power is absolutely achievable. We just need to stop pretending it’s rocket science.
Governance must move beyond spectacle. We don’t need another staged commissioning of a half-functioning project. We need sustainable infrastructure. We need leaders who are serious, not ceremonial.
Until Nigerians see stable electricity as a basic right—and demand it as such—we will remain stuck in this endless cycle. The day we stop clapping for light that comes only a few hours a day is the day real change begins. Leaders must be held to higher standards. And citizens must stop celebrating survival as success.
So next time you hear of a “commissioning” in your area, ask the hard questions. Is it real progress—or just another photo-op? Are we solving problems—or dancing around them? Because if you still have to pray, fast, or throw a party just to get light, then the system has already failed you.
AUTHOR: Abidemi Adebamiwa
Articles published in our Graffiti section are strictly the opinion of the writers and do not represent the views of Ripples Nigeria or its editorial stand.
Source: Ripples Nigeria
