Nigerias

Grace Adama puts on her earrings in her two-room flat in Abuja before grabbing her handbag and heading to work.

The health NGO worker earns 135,000 naira ($99) a month, nearly twice Nigeria’s minimum wage. Yet she says her income now disappears within days as the cost of housing, electricity and food continues to rise.

“If I’m paid today, my salary stays with me just for one week,” she told Reuters. “If you see the cost of living, house, electricity, everything has gone up.”

Adama’s experience reflects a wider cost-of-living crisis confronting millions of Nigerians as the country approaches elections. Living standards have deteriorated sharply since President Bola Tinubu introduced a series of sweeping economic reforms, including the removal of fuel subsidies, the devaluation of the naira and reductions in electricity subsidies.

The government and investors argue that the reforms were necessary to prevent a deeper fiscal crisis and put Africa’s largest oil producer on a more sustainable economic path.

But for many ordinary Nigerians, the promised benefits have yet to materialise.

The cost of preparing the country’s staple jollof rice has more than doubled since Tinubu took office, according to Lagos-based SBM Intelligence. Petrol prices, meanwhile, have risen roughly sixfold following the removal of subsidies, the weakening of the naira and higher global oil prices.

With elections approaching in January, Tinubu faces the difficult task of convincing voters that the economic pain they have endured will eventually translate into better living standards.

NIGERIANS FEEL THE PAIN AS INVESTORS CHEER

The contrast between economic indicators and everyday life has become increasingly striking.

The World Bank estimates that just over half of Nigeria’s population lived in poverty last year, compared with roughly 42% in 2022.

Some Nigerians have responded to the rising costs by cutting household spending, moving to cheaper accommodation and relying on loans to cover basic expenses.

Adama said she had stopped buying meat regularly, moved to a smaller apartment and was still forced to take short-term loans to pay her bills. She also said she could no longer send money to her elderly mother in Benue state as she had done previously.

“I can’t even send money to my aged mother at home,” she said. “I can’t do a lot of things that I used to do before.”

Yet investors have taken a markedly more positive view of Nigeria’s economic direction.

“This is the most positive investors have been about Nigeria probably in the last two decades,” said Thys Louw, a portfolio manager at Ninety One. “They’re taking the tough medicine now.”

That divergence creates a major political challenge for Tinubu. Financial markets can respond positively to reforms long before their benefits reach households, while voters tend to judge governments according to the immediate cost of food, transport, housing and electricity.

Tinubu has been nicknamed “T-Pain” by some Nigerians frustrated by the rising cost of living.

REFORMS AIM TO END YEARS OF ECONOMIC DISTORTIONS

Tinubu inherited an economy burdened by years of policies that had created significant distortions.

Under former President Muhammadu Buhari, the government maintained petrol subsidies, imposed import restrictions and operated tight currency controls. While those measures were intended to protect consumers and encourage domestic production, they also contributed to shortages, foreign-exchange difficulties and growing pressure on government finances.

Fuel subsidies alone cost the government around $10 billion in 2022.

“We were living in fiscal illusions,” Finance Minister Taiwo Oyedele said at a recent event in Abuja. “We needed to stop deceiving ourselves so the country can move forward.”

Tinubu’s government therefore moved quickly after taking office to dismantle several of those policies.

The removal of fuel subsidies immediately pushed up transportation and living costs. Currency reforms also caused the naira to lose significant value, increasing the cost of imported goods.

The government argues that these measures were unavoidable and that rebuilding the economy requires accepting short-term pain.

There are signs of progress.

Nigeria’s stock market has risen close to 60% this year. Capital inflows reached a six-year high of $23 billion last year, while the opening of the 650,000-barrel-per-day Dangote refinery has created hopes that domestic refining will eventually reduce the country’s dependence on imported petroleum products.

The government has also pointed to increased investment in domestic oil assets as evidence that its reforms are attracting capital.

But those improvements have not necessarily translated into better household finances.

A BOOMING STOCK MARKET, BUT FEW CAN INVEST

Nigeria’s financial markets have benefited significantly from renewed investor confidence.

However, fewer than 5% of Nigerian adults invest in capital markets, according to the Nigerian stock exchange.

Much of the recent capital inflow has also been concentrated in short-term financial instruments such as Treasury bills, allowing foreign investors to quickly withdraw their money if economic conditions deteriorate.

For ordinary Nigerians, borrowing remains extremely expensive.

The central bank’s key interest rate stands at 26.5% as policymakers attempt to control inflation, which remains close to 16%.

That makes it difficult for businesses to expand and for households to access affordable credit.

At the same time, petrol prices average roughly 1,600 naira ($1.18) per litre nationally. Although that is lower than prices in neighbouring Ghana and Ivory Coast, it remains prohibitively expensive for many Nigerians who had become accustomed to subsidised fuel.

“The solution for me is for government to bring the fuel price down,” said Lagos food seller Eji Uchenna.

She said customers who once purchased food in bulk can no longer afford to do so.

POLITICAL PRESSURE BUILDS

The economic pressure is increasingly becoming a political issue.

In June, federal workers rejected a proposed 100,000-naira minimum wage and threatened an indefinite nationwide strike.

A June voter sentiment tracker by SBM Intelligence found that 80% of Nigerians believed the country was moving in the wrong direction.

Economic hardship is not the only concern. Security, particularly widespread kidnapping, remains a major issue for voters.

Yet widespread dissatisfaction does not necessarily mean Tinubu is vulnerable at the ballot box.

Nigeria’s opposition remains fragmented, reducing the likelihood that dissatisfaction will automatically translate into a coordinated electoral challenge.

“The opposition is disunited, and… the only way the opposition beats Tinubu is if they are united,” said Cheta Nwanze, chief executive of SBM Intelligence.

That gives Tinubu some political space to continue pursuing his economic programme despite the public backlash.

THE TEST IS WHETHER GROWTH REACHES HOUSEHOLDS

Investors remain optimistic that the reforms will eventually produce stronger economic growth, lower inflation and greater investment.

Louw said that if the government maintains its policies, workers could begin to benefit as inflation falls and interest rates decline.

But the transition remains painful, and the government faces growing pressure to ensure that economic gains are not concentrated among investors and businesses while ordinary households continue to struggle.

The central challenge is therefore no longer simply whether Nigeria’s reforms are economically necessary. It is whether the government can make those reforms politically and socially sustainable.

Tinubu must demonstrate that the sacrifices demanded from Nigerians are producing tangible improvements in their daily lives before voters head to the polls.

Finance Minister Oyedele acknowledged that the government must do more to ensure that economic recovery translates into broader prosperity.

“When inequality persists, it becomes dangerous,” he said. “It’s like sitting on gunpowder; it explodes.”

For Nigeria, the coming election will therefore offer a test not only of Tinubu’s political standing but of whether a painful programme of economic reform can deliver benefits quickly enough for ordinary citizens to believe in it.

With information from Reuters.

Across Africa, the ability to defend borders, monitor territory and protect critical infrastructure remains heavily dependent on foreign suppliers. Turkish drones patrol borders, Chinese surveillance systems monitor cities and Russian fighter jets form the backbone of several air forces.

For decades, African militaries have turned abroad for critical defence technologies, leaving the continent largely positioned as a buyer rather than a producer.

An Abuja-based start-up is attempting to change that equation.

Terra Industries, founded in 2024 by Nathan Nwachuku and Maxwell Maduka, both in their early twenties, designs and manufactures drones, autonomous surveillance towers and unmanned ground vehicles from facilities in Abuja and Accra.

Unlike companies that primarily assemble imported components, Terra says it develops its own software, airframes, propellers and lithium-ion battery packs, with more than 70 percent of its inputs sourced locally.

The company says its systems are currently used to protect infrastructure valued at approximately $11bn, including power plants, lithium and gold mines, oil refineries and other strategic assets across eight African countries and Canada.

Building capability

The shift from importing security technology to producing it locally has become an increasingly important debate across Africa. Governments facing armed groups, porous borders, maritime insecurity and attacks on critical infrastructure are searching for faster and more adaptable solutions.

Terra’s move from private infrastructure security into engagements with Nigeria’s defence institutions reflects that changing environment. The company says its systems are designed to address challenges ranging from maritime surveillance and border monitoring to the protection of energy and mining assets.

“Coastal states in West Africa are focused on maritime surveillance because of piracy and illegal fishing in the Gulf of Guinea,” chief executive Nathan Nwachuku told Al Jazeera. “States dealing with insurgency and porous borders want persistent aerial surveillance and a rapid-response capability. Others are looking at protection for pipelines, power and energy infrastructure, and mining assets, the same problems we started solving in Nigeria.”

The company is now preparing for a larger regional footprint. Nwachuku confirmed that Terra’s second production facility in Ghana will become Africa’s largest drone manufacturing hub, with an annual production capacity of 50,000 units by 2028.

“Our long-term ambition goes beyond the continent because the threats our systems are designed to address exist across the Global South,” he said. “Governments in South Asia and South America face them too, and they face the same dependency on foreign suppliers. We intend to serve them as we grow.”

Investor confidence

The scale of investment behind Terra reflects growing interest in Africa’s emerging defence technology sector. The company has raised $34m in seed funding, which it describes as one of the largest early-stage funding rounds in African technology.

The investment was led by 8VC, the venture capital firm founded by Palantir Technologies co-founder Joe Lonsdale, alongside Lux Capital and Valor Equity Partners, investors behind companies such as Anduril and SpaceX.

“The round closed in under two weeks, which is rare even by global standards,” Tage Kene-Okafor, Terra Industries’ director of communications, told Al Jazeera. “But what has been more exciting is our cap table, where we have the likes of 8VC, Lux Capital and Valor Equity Partners, investors that have backed companies shaping the future of defence and advanced manufacturing globally.”

Security imperative

The interest in companies like Terra comes as drones become increasingly central to conflicts across Africa. In the Sahel, inexpensive commercial drones have moved from surveillance tools to weapons used on the battlefield, creating new challenges for militaries that often lack effective counter-drone capabilities.

According to the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data (ACLED), Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), the al-Qaeda-linked coalition operating in Mali and Burkina Faso, has carried out more than 100 drone attacks since 2023, with 2025 recording the highest number to date.

Terra says its Kama interceptor drone was developed in response to this changing threat environment. The company says the system can reach speeds of up to 300kph and is designed to counter hostile drones in environments where traditional air defence systems may be unavailable or too expensive.

Building defence technology, however, is not the same as achieving defence sovereignty.

Sovereignty question

While a country can build manufacturing capacity through investment, engineering talent and industrial policy, defence sovereignty requires institutions capable of managing procurement, ensuring accountability and sustaining strategic industries over the long term.

Janice Greaver, director at the Pan African Sustainable, Innovation and Development Associates (PASIDA), argues that local production alone cannot answer those questions.

“Seventy percent local sourcing means little until we know who controls the intellectual property, who is employed and who is left out,” she told Al Jazeera. “And when private capital arms the state with no visible civil society oversight, we are simply trading one dependency (on foreign suppliers) for another (on unaccountable domestic capital).”

Terra Industries has demonstrated that sophisticated defence technologies can be designed and manufactured in Africa. Its rapid rise reflects both growing technical capability on the continent and the pressure created by worsening security challenges.

Whether that becomes genuine defence sovereignty will depend on what happens beyond the factory floor: how governments buy, regulate and oversee the technologies they increasingly seek to build themselves.

As Greaver cautions: “Its manufacturing capacity is being built, sovereignty requires the accountability structures that do not yet exist”.

The Benin Bronzes are a broad term used for the carved ivory, wooden works, metal sculptures and plaques looted by British troops during the Punitive Expedition in 1897.

Scholars estimate that more than 5,000 artefacts were stolen, some of which were gifted to Queen Victoria, others sold in auctions, held in private galleries or donated to museums across Europe and elsewhere.

The call to return the art, which began in the 1930s, intensified in the recent decade, inspired by growing pressure, repatriation activism and the relentless effort of the Benin Dialogue Group, a multilateral stakeholders’ group.

As momentum built at the peak of the homecoming of these arts, Igun Street unexpectedly found itself in the global spotlight. Diplomats, state officials, museum curators and researchers began arriving in numbers local artisans say they had never witnessed before.

This noon, Double Chief’s voice brims with pride as he points to a recently completed sculpture resting on a wooden bench. The bronze figure, a man in a suit and tie, had received its final polish only that morning after months of work.

Yet for many bronze casters, the attention has done little to solve underlying concerns.

“We are struggling to keep the industry alive,” says Oriakhi Osazee, who sits on a wooden stool at the entrance of a store in Igun. A sculptor whose mediums are clay, fibre, brass and bronze, Osazee has been in the craft for more than 35 years. He speaks with depth and conviction, drawing from vivid dates and past events to reinforce his ideas.

Efforts to recruit apprentices have stalled, he says. Young people, on whom the future of the craft depends, are increasingly leaving in search of what he calls “quick money” in other professions, cities and countries.

When their ancestors began, he recalls, their craft extended beyond bronze casting. There were, among the Iguns, men who had a gift in ivory carving. Long before the global ban on ivory trade was made official, that layer of art, without heirs and hope of continuity, had died.

For Agbonmwenre Alex, the subject of heirship within the craft is a matter of personal pain.

Alex, who was taking a tour of his workshop, began learning the craft at the age of eight under the guidance of his father. He started with errands and light tasks before progressing to kneading clay pottery. Over time, he learned every stage of the casting process, from preparing moulds to the final polishing of finished works.

Today, he is the only one of his father’s seven sons who remains in the profession. But uncertainty now hangs over the next generation.

“I would like my sons to take after me,” Alex says. “Unfortunately, I started exposing them to this craft so late. They literally see this work as outdated, archaic, and dying. The zeal, the love for the job, is dead.”

I would like my sons to take after me. They see this work as outdates, archaic, and dying. The zeal, the love for the job, is dead.

by AGNONMWENRE ALEX, BRONZE CRAFTSMAN

His first son chose to study law. His second is pursuing a degree in healthcare. Despite repeated efforts to pique their interest, including offering workshop space, raw materials and financial support to start a business of their own, neither accepted.

“The number of youths is declining drastically. It [the craft] is at risk of going into extinction. Apprentices are so scarce,” says Osazee. “We used to have a lot of apprentices in the past.”

Jadon John keeps a diary in which he records reference numbers for government-mandated registrations. Based in Jimeta, a commercial district in Adamawa State, northeastern Nigeria, one page of Jadon’s diary contains his voter registration details and another lists his Bank Verification Number (BVN). The 34-year-old has also noted down his National Identification Number (NIN), records for Subscriber Identification Module (SIM) registration, and information for his driver’s licence renewal. 

All of these are national digital identifiers that Nigerians require for most official documentation. For him, these entries feel like variations of the same repetitive process. 

“It has been stressful from the beginning,” he said, sitting outside a phone repair shop near the Jimeta Modern Market in Adamawa. “I first registered for my voter’s card, then later did BVN at the bank, and after that, I spent almost two days trying to get my NIN. Every place asked for almost the same information and biometric capture.”

The queues were always long, he said, and sometimes the network would fail after hours of waiting. His experience has become a normal routine for many people in Nigeria, a country that has devoted years to developing digital identity systems aimed at modernising governance, enhancing financial inclusion, and minimising fraud. 

Experts have described the government’s efforts as Digital Public Infrastructure (DPI), which encompasses the collective digital frameworks that facilitate effective online interactions between governments and citizens. Despite the government’s investments in identity infrastructure, many citizens experience cycles of repeated registrations, record mismatches, and fragmented databases. At the heart of the problem is a simple contradiction: Nigeria now has multiple powerful identity systems, but they do not fully connect with one another.

One person, many registrations

Jadon, for instance, says he struggles to remember how many times he has submitted his fingerprints for similar digital identity registrations. “Every agency takes my fingerprints, passport photo, phone number, and address again, as if I have never registered anywhere before,” he complained, especially about how repetitive and tedious these processes can be.

Nigeria has multiple agencies managing different biometric databases for identity verification, banking security, voting, and driver licensing. The National Identity Management Commission (NIMC) manages the NIN database to build Nigeria’s foundational identity system. The Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) introduced the BVN in 2014 to secure the banking sector and combat fraud. The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) maintains its own voter register for elections, while the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC) operates another biometric database for driver licensing. Each system has its own valid purpose, but when combined, they frequently function in isolation. Experts say this lack of coordination can sometimes lead to significant problems.

Jadon said that on many occasions, he has suffered service disruptions due to identity mismatches. His bank account was once restricted because his NIN details did not exactly match the BVN record. One system had his middle name fully written, while another used only initials. A similar incident occurred in 2020, when his SIM was blocked amid the government’s NIN-SIM linkage policy.

“When my SIM was blocked because of the NIN-SIM linkage issue, I lost customers because people could not reach me,” he recalled. “I could not receive calls, bank alerts, or access mobile banking for days simply because my records did not match properly across the systems.”

As with the NIN-SIM linkage policy, people also face difficulties linking their BVN to their NIN records. The BVN was introduced in 2014, when Nigeria’s national identity system was not yet fully developed for seamless nationwide interoperability. Abubakar Nuhu Buba, the Deputy Manager of the Currency Operations and Branch Management Department at the CBN in Yola, said the BVN emerged during a period when Nigerian banks urgently needed stronger identity verification systems.

“The original goal of the BVN system was to address the absence of a unique identifier across the Nigerian banking industry,” Abubakar noted. “The banking industry faced an urgent security crisis that the national identity system was not yet equipped to handle.”

The CBN official revealed that the current BVN-NIN integration presents a complex dual effect on financial inclusion. While it builds a more secure foundation for credit and digital banking, he said, it also creates significant friction that risks pushing vulnerable rural populations back into the informal sector. That friction is often felt most sharply in rural communities where internet access is weak, enrolment centres are scarce, and transport costs are high.

The unified identity dream

Nunaya David, a senior enrolment officer with NIMC in Adamawa, said the NIN is intended to serve as Nigeria’s official foundational identity number. Its primary goal is to establish a unique identity for every Nigerian and legal resident, serving as a central reference point across various platforms and services.

“The long-term goal is one person, one identity across all sectors,” he noted.

In theory, that would mean a citizen registers biometrics once, and authorised institutions securely verify identity digitally, rather than repeatedly capturing fingerprints and photographs. But in practice, the systems continue to function as separate databases.

Nigeria’s broader digital interoperability efforts are also coordinated by the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA), which has developed frameworks to improve secure data exchange and interoperability across government institutions. Through initiatives such as the Nigerian e-Government Interoperability Framework (Ne-GIF) and the Nigeria Data Exchange framework, NITDA seeks to enable Ministries, Departments, and Agencies (MDAs) to securely share and verify data across platforms rather than operate disconnected databases. The agency has repeatedly stressed that interoperability is essential to achieving Nigeria’s “One Citizen, One Identity” vision.

“The main reason citizens still repeat biometric registration is that most agencies still maintain independent databases and legal mandates,” Nunaya said. He identified several challenges affecting Nigeria’s digital identity systems, including varying database architectures, inconsistent data formats, outdated legacy infrastructure, network disruptions, and issues regarding data ownership.

“Many citizens have different names, dates of birth, or phone numbers across BVN, voter registration, passport, and NIN records,” he added, noting that minor spelling differences can prevent systems from recognising the same person.

Registration for a voter’s card through the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) also presents similar interoperability challenges. INEC officials in Yola told HumAngle that their biometric registration process serves a different purpose from the NIN database. Grace Akpan, an electoral officer in the state, said the electoral body is mandated to conduct its own biometric registration because the voter register is legally separate from the NIN and BVN databases. The commission also captures biometrics specifically for the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System (BVAS) used during elections.

“INEC currently does not use NIN as a mandatory verification requirement during voter registration,” Grace said.

Citizens can still register to vote without a NIN because the law allows other forms of identification, including passports, birth certificates, and driver’s licences. The official said that while discussions on collaboration exist between INEC and NIMC, real-time nationwide interoperability has not yet been achieved.

It is the same challenge of duplicated effort for Nigeria’s road safety administration. Samuel Danladi, an Assistant Corps Commander of the FRSC in Adamawa, said biometrics are collected during driver’s licence registration to prevent fraud and maintain unique driver records. Although most applicants already possess NIN or BVN records, the FRSC still performs separate biometric capture.

“Nigeria’s identity systems were developed independently by different agencies with separate mandates,” Danladi argued. “Systems are not fully interoperable, biometric standards differ, and agencies lack full real-time access to one another’s databases.”

Since December 2020, FRSC has made the NIN compulsory for driver’s licence applications and renewals, but citizens still submit fingerprints and photographs during the licensing process. “What exists now is mostly verification-based connectivity, not full data-sharing interoperability,” Danladi said.

The human cost 

For ordinary Nigerians, however, the consequences go beyond inconvenience. The burden often falls hardest on people who depend on daily income and cannot afford to spend days correcting identity records. Mercy Barka, a caterer in Yola, encountered an issue while attempting to transfer money to a supplier via her bank’s mobile app. The transaction repeatedly failed despite sufficient funds in her account.

When she visited her bank branch, she was told that her account name did not exactly match the name attached to her BVN records. One database contained her full middle name, while another used an abbreviated version. “The bank told me I needed to correct the information with NIMC first or obtain an affidavit before they could update the records,” she said.

What appeared to be a minor discrepancy eventually took five days to resolve. The resolution required Mercy to shuffle between the bank, a court registry, and the NIMC enrolment centre. “I spent money on transport, affidavit fees, and photocopies,” she said. “The amount I spent trying to correct the problem was painful because I was only trying to access my own money.”

Identity mismatches do not merely create administrative inconvenience; they can interrupt business activities, delay transactions, and impose additional costs on already strained incomes. “It affects everything,” Jadon said quietly. “I lose workdays anytime I have to visit these offices. I spend money on transport, passport photographs, and photocopies.”

Throughout Nigeria, individuals frequently undertake long journeys to resolve discrepancies in records between various databases. This can occur due to a missing middle name, an incorrect birth date, or issues with fingerprint synchronisation during verification. Sometimes, entire systems may just go offline.

“Sometimes one office tells you their server is down after waiting for long hours,” Jadon said. “Other times, they say your information does not match another system. You keep moving from one office to another, trying to correct problems you do not even understand.”

For Charles Anthony, a student who secured a scholarship under the Adamawa State Government, the frustration came during the renewal of his passport. Although immigration authorities already possessed biometric records linked to his previous passport, he was required to submit fresh fingerprints and another facial photograph during the renewal process.

“I thought renewal meant they would simply verify the information they already had,” Charles said. “Instead, it felt like starting the registration process from the beginning.”

The repeated capture was not unique to passport services. Charles noted that he had previously submitted similar biometric information during NIN registration, voter registration, and banking enrolment. “Sometimes it feels like the offices do not know that they are dealing with the same person,” he said.

The privacy question

Beyond the interoperability problem facing Nigeria’s digital identity systems, a growing concern over data protection has also emerged among citizens and digital governance experts. Different government agencies now hold enormous amounts of biometric and demographic information about citizens, including fingerprints, facial scans, phone numbers, home addresses, and financial records. Yet many Nigerians remain uncertain about how securely that information is managed.

“I worry about it sometimes,” Jadon said. “Different agencies already have my fingerprints, face, phone number, and personal details, but nobody explains clearly how the data is protected or who can access it.”

Data protection experts say the concern is legitimate. Vincent Olatunji,  the National Commissioner of the Nigeria Data Protection Commission (NDPC), believes that effective identity management requires “harmonised policies, secure technologies, and inclusive systems.” Vincent warned that identity systems must align closely with privacy and data protection frameworks to build public trust. He also said that disconnected databases can increase security vulnerabilities because agencies often duplicate sensitive information rather than securely verify identity through shared infrastructure. He noted that the risks include inconsistent records, unauthorised access, identity theft, and data breaches across multiple systems.

Mohammed Bello Buhari, a digital governance and democracy expert, noted that as Nigeria develops its Digital Public Infrastructure, the primary challenge is ensuring efficient information exchange across systems without repeatedly collecting the same personal data. Mohammed argued that the purpose of modern digital identity systems is not to create more databases but to enable trusted verification across institutions.

“The goal is not to collect more data about people, but to create trusted ways of verifying identity while minimising unnecessary data sharing,” he said, warning that when agencies continue collecting the same information independently, citizens are exposed to greater privacy and security risks because sensitive personal data is duplicated across multiple databases rather than verified through interoperable systems.

Alan Gelb, a senior fellow at the Centre for Global Development and a long-time researcher on identification systems, also argued that global digital identity systems create the greatest value when they are interoperable and trusted across sectors rather than operating as isolated databases. According to him, fragmented systems often increase costs for both governments and citizens while reducing the efficiency that digital identity programmes are meant to achieve.

The World Bank’s Identification for Development (ID4D) programme advocates that trusted digital identity systems should be accompanied by strong safeguards for privacy and data protection. The World Bank noted that digital identity reaches its full potential when combined with secure data-sharing frameworks that allow institutions to verify information without repeatedly collecting it from citizens.

For Jadon, however, those debates remain far from everyday reality. His concern is that several government agencies already possess the same fingerprints, photographs, and personal records, yet he is still asked to provide them.

Learning from other countries

Countries around the world have faced similar identity challenges, but several have moved further towards interoperability. In India, the Aadhaar system allows citizens to authenticate identity across banking, telecoms, and public services through a shared digital identity infrastructure. In Estonia, a European country in the Baltic region, the digital identity ecosystem enables citizens to access healthcare, taxes, voting, and banking through interoperable platforms connected by secure data-sharing systems. The ID4D programme also encourages countries to build interoperable identity ecosystems as part of Digital Public Infrastructure.  

As of early 2026, Nigeria had already issued more than 127 million NINs, according to figures released by NIMC, which shows the massive scale of the country’s digital identity expansion. Meanwhile, Nigeria aims to issue up to 180 million NINs by December 2026 and has begun upgrading its identity infrastructure under the NIMS 2.0 platform, which is supported by the World Bank. 

Despite the current frustrations, officials across agencies agree on one thing: the future lies in interoperability.

“The key reform needed in Nigeria’s identity system is establishing the NIN as the single foundational identity across government services,” Samuel of the FRSC said, calling for stronger interoperability standards, reduced repeated biometric capture, improved digital infrastructure, and stronger cybersecurity protections.

The CBN official also told HumAngle that Nigeria would soon achieve interoperable digital systems. “There are major plans to move towards a single, unified identity system by December 2026,” the official claimed. 

For citizens like Jadon, however, reforms cannot come soon enough. He says he is tired of standing in endless queues to repeatedly provide the same fingerprints. “If the government already has my information, why should I still start from the beginning every single time?” he asked.

This report is produced under the DPI Africa Journalism Fellowship Programme of the Media Foundation for West Africa and Co-Develop.

Sokoto, Nigeria – Each time her curious seven-year-old child returned home from school with homework, 28-year-old Habiba Abubakar knew it was time to take him to her neighbour, whom the child called “aunt”, even though they were not related by blood, who had been his saviour every time he wanted to stand in front of his class and receive a standing ovation.

But that changed in 2021, when Abubakar enrolled herself in the Women Centre for Continuing Education (WCCE) in Sokoto State, northwest Nigeria.

“I’ve always felt ashamed when Muhammad told me that they’ve been given another assignment,” she told Al Jazeera.

This frustration, coupled with her enthusiasm for learning English, pushed her to return to the classroom 13 years after she left.

Now, the mother of four said she helps all the children with their assignments.

The interruption in Abibaker’s studies is not uncommon across northern Nigeria, especially in rural communities, where girls are more likely to drop out of school due to cultural practices, such as early marriage, or poverty, which forces parents to make gender-biased decisions by enrolling male children over females.

UNICEF reported that more than half of the girls in the region are not attending school.

Jennifer Agbaji, a social accountability professional and the executive director at Basileia Vulnerable Persons Rights Initiative (BVPRI), a Nigerian nonprofit dedicated to advancing the rights of women, girls, and other vulnerable populations through education and leadership development, viewed the initiative as a positive and necessary intervention.

Nonetheless, she said second-chance education should not be limited to classroom-based learning alone.

“If access to education depends solely on physical attendance, many women who face mobility, childcare, economic, health, or security challenges may still be excluded.”

How the system works

WCCE, commissioned by the then-military governor of Sokoto State, Navy Captain Abdul Rasheed Adisa Raji, was founded in 1997 to provide adult education and vocational skills to women in the state.

Since then, Nuraddeen Ladan Dogon Daji, a physics teacher, told Al Jazeera that the centre has trained many students, some of whom now practise professions, such as teaching and nursing, helping to address the country’s shortage of skilled professionals.

Unlike other public schools, where pupils spend six years, the centre designed a three-year curriculum for its primary section, from adult one to three.

In the secondary sections, students spend three years each in the junior and senior levels.

In their final years, they also sit for the mandatory Junior Leaving School Certificate of Education (JLSCE) and Senior School Certificate of Education (SSCE) examinations.

To help these students realise their dreams, the centre also offers free education, benefitting from the state government’s effort to reduce the number of out-of-school children.

This has helped students like Abubakar, who, following her divorce, relied heavily on her father’s support to stay in school.

“We used to pay 5,000 naira ($3.5) per term, but were later told to stop because the state government has given us a chance to study for free,” Abubakar told Al Jazeera from her home in the Kofar Atiku neighbourhood.

But free tuition does not eliminate all costs. Students still have to pay for transport, books, and other daily expenses.

The challenges

According to Agbaji, beyond poverty and early marriage, there are several structural barriers, including restrictive gender norms that prioritise domestic responsibilities over education.

She said many women lose confidence after years away from formal education, and in some communities, education is still viewed as an investment for boys rather than a lifelong right for women.

In her opinion, these norms often combine to make re-entry into education difficult, even when opportunities exist. In her journey to becoming a nurse, Fatima Attahir, who left school after primary school 12 years ago, found it necessary to go back to the classroom and start afresh.

To support herself while studying, she helps with her family’s trading activities when she is not in class.

She said that although some of her friends already saw the decision as time-consuming, she is not satisfied with the system’s duration.

“I wish the primary section was also up to six years,” she said.

“Because to become a nurse, I need to have a solid background in the core subjects.” Some of the students Al Jazeera spoke to said their greatest challenge is juggling academic activities with household responsibilities.

Before her divorce, Abubakar said she would wake up earlier than usual to prepare breakfast, clean the house, and get herself and her children ready for school.

“When I finally set my foot in class, I was already tired, and as the lectures went on, I would start slumbering because I hadn’t had enough sleep.” She said the pressure became worse when her youngest child frequently fell ill, sometimes forcing her to leave class before lectures ended.

After her divorce, transport costs became another obstacle. “Since I was no longer married, my parents were the ones paying for the transport fares, but when they couldn’t, I would not go to school because I couldn’t afford it myself,” she said.

Later, her father gave her 10,000 naira to start making and selling local snacks and small chops.

The small business now helps her cover transport costs and other school-related expenses. Abubakar still credits the neighbour who used to help her son with homework before she returned to school.

When transport costs became difficult to afford after her divorce, her parents stepped in when they could, while her father later provided the capital that helped her start a small business and continue her studies.

Her experience is not unique.

Another student, Hafsat Aliyu, said she leaves her two-year-old child with her in-laws whenever she attends classes to avoid disrupting lessons.

Her husband pays for books and other occasional school needs, while she sells local pastries during break time at the centre to earn money for daily transport and personal expenses.

During examination periods, she studies late into the night after completing household chores and putting her children to bed.

“My husband does his best, but I thought it was time for me to get a source of income, too,” she said.

“Now, I pay for my transport and a few other daily needs.”

However, the physics teacher, Dogon Daji, said that in his seven years of teaching at the centre, a recurring challenge among students is the pace of learning.

“I’ve taught young people, and the level of their understanding is quite different,” he said.

But he added that there are still outstanding students among them; one recently won this year’s Usmanu Danfodio Week, an annual quiz competition organised for secondary school students in the state.

On the other hand, the vocational section of the centre, which was designed to equip students with practical skills such as tailoring and soap-making, now offers only tailoring.

Students are required to provide tools, such as scissors, including those whose interests may lie in other trades.

The way forward

Agbaji acknowledged that for Nigeria to bridge the gender disparity in education, the country must adopt a lifelong learning framework that recognises education as a continuous right and opportunity.

This requires increased investment in adult education, digital and remote learning platforms, community-based education, and flexible pathways for women who missed formal schooling, because the long-term consequences are significant.

She added that many women pursuing second-chance education continue to balance childcare, household responsibilities, and income-generating activities, often relying on family and community support networks to remain in school.

“Educational exclusion perpetuates poverty, limits economic opportunities, increases vulnerability to abuse and exploitation, and restricts women’s participation in governance and public service. It also affects future generations because children of educated mothers are generally more likely to enrol in and complete school,” Agbaji clarified.