Lagos, Nigeria – Jameson Nigeria is proud to announce Kazeem Adefuye and Akilla Micheal Adebisi as regional winners of the global Jameson Black Barrel Bartender Series, a competition that celebrates creativity and craftsmanship within the bartender community.

The Jameson Black Barrel Bartender Series invites bartenders from across the world to create original cocktails inspired by Jameson Black Barrel, using locally sourced ingredients while showcasing their cocktail-making skills through video submissions.

From entries submitted globally, 26 regional winners were selected based on creativity, cocktail concept, video quality, and brand knowledge.

Representing Nigeria among these global winners are Kazeem Adefuye and Akilla Micheal Adebisi, two bartenders whose innovative cocktails reflect the character of the Jameson Black Barrel brand.

As regional winners, both bartenders will travel to Ireland in September for the Jameson Host Summit, an all-expenses-paid experience bringing together bartenders from around the world for mentorship, collaboration, and the global finals of the competition.

During the summit, the Top 10 finalists will be selected to present their cocktails live to an international panel of judges. From there, three global champions will each receive a prize of 鈧�5,000.

Speaking on the achievement, Evane Chenuet, Marketing Director, Pernod Ricard, said: 鈥淲e are incredibly proud of Kazeem and Akilla for representing Nigeria on a global stage. The Jameson Black Barrel Bartender Series celebrates creativity and the craft of bartending, and these two bartenders embody that spirit. We look forward to supporting them as they head to Ireland and continue to showcase Nigerian talent to the world.鈥�

The Jameson Black Barrel Bartender Series continues Jameson鈥檚 commitment to supporting and elevating the bartender community by providing a platform for talent and innovation.

As the competition progresses toward the global finals, Nigeria proudly stands behind Kazeem Adefuye and Akilla Micheal Adebisi as they represent the country and the local cocktail culture on the world stage.

For more information about the Jameson Black Barrel Bartender Series, visit:

About Pernod Ricard Nigeria

Pernod Ricard Nigeria is the local affiliate of Pernod Ricard, a global leader in wines and spirits.

Pernod Ricard holds a comprehensive portfolio of premium and luxury brands, with 16 out of the top 100 spirit brands in the world, including Jameson Irish Whiskey, Beefeater Gin, Martell Cognac, Seagram鈥檚 Imperial Blue Whisky, Absolut Vodka, Ballantine鈥檚, Chivas Regal, The Glenlivet Scotch Whisky, Inverroche, Olmeca Tequila, Malibu Liqueur, Imperial Black, and G.H. Mumm Champagne.

About Jameson Irish Whiskey

Founded in 1780 by John Jameson, Jameson is the best-selling Irish whiskey in the world. Produced in the distillery in Midleton, County Cork, from malted and unmalted Irish barley, Jameson鈥檚 blended whiskeys are triple-distilled, resulting in exceptional smoothness.

鈥楯apa鈥�, the pattern of young Nigerians leaving home, has become a part of our collective condition and culture as Nigerians. In 2021, the year after the EndSARS protests shook the country, Nigeria recorded its highest net migration figure in recent history, . Before that, the number of Nigerians living outside Nigeria almost tripled between 1990 and 2020, . The statistics can, however, never capture what comes after the flight lands: the grief of building a life from scratch, and opening the door of a perfectly decorated apartment every evening and still feeling nothing. These raw emotions are what this anthology is about. In Here and There, six writers share what leaving really costs in joy and community, and what it sometimes unexpectedly gives back.

The first thing leaving takes is your community. Nigerian lawyer-turned-editor, Abeke Bello, writes about how she watched her family of seventeen disappear, until childhood weekends became occasional Instagram likes. She arrived in London and discovered that the community she had always taken for granted had never been a given at all.  鈥業鈥檓 not sure when next all seventeen of us will be gathered in the same place again,’ she writes. Most people who leave never are. When she does find the joy of rebuilding her community, she recognises the intentionality and work that goes into it. . 

Abeke was not alone in rebuilding. For Lade, it was more about getting a full grasp of what home has become. Her experience showed home was everywhere: in what and who she has and what and who she鈥檚 left behind. It鈥檚 where you鈥檙e from and where you鈥檙e going.

Survival also emerged as a key theme in these stories. For Chika, leaving Nigeria only changed what danger looked like. In 2021, he and his wife left Nigeria after the EndSARS protests when it dawned on them that they were not getting justice for lives lost during the brutality. What they did not realise was that on the other side, another kind of violence waited. ‘We are building a home in an English country,’ he writes, ‘or we are disappearing.’ He is still figuring it out. .

Daniel, similarly, after leaving due to EndSARs, spent months in London shrinking himself, hesitant about taking up space in his new world. It was only through a shared moment of grief with a friend that he realised home was about the people who hold the door open for you.

鈥婰eaving can also help you to rebuild your identity and take root somewhere. Adenike always had a feeling of rootlessness and had spent years learning how to make a space feel like hers in Lagos. London was quiet in a way Lagos never prepared her for. Grounded in faith, she began a new life by taking up hobbies like baking bread, riding a bike and reading.

Ona, meanwhile, writes about the frustration of not feeling at home in her new apartment in a new country. She had the perfect Houston apartment, decorated to her taste, but it didn’t feel like hers until she addressed her own internal unrest. She just had to feel at home in herself first. ‘I am learning that home starts with me and everything else follows,’ she writes. . 

Here and There sits with six people, as with candour, they try to find out what joy, home and community have become to them.

You know the type. Loud events. Celebrity lineups. Endless parties. Traffic that tests your patience.

So when we heard about Techmas Village in Lekki Phase 1, we weren鈥檛 expecting it to compete with the chaos that is Detty December.

Over two weeks, nearly 4,000 people visited Techmas Village by Enzo. Families, tourists, and fun seekers looking for different things to do in Lagos in December.

At first glance, it was all about tech. Virtual reality arenas. Augmented challenges. Competitive games.

But the real story wasn鈥檛 the gadgets, it was the parents getting unexpectedly competitive during Family-vs-Family games. The teenagers forgetting their phones. The laughter when someone failed spectacularly in VR.

From December 25th through early January, the space felt less like an event and more like a community square.

For visitors searching for family activities in Lagos during the festive season, Techmas Village offered something refreshingly participatory.

Powered by NSIA Insurance, it didn鈥檛 try to outshine the city. It just gave people a place to gather.

And with a larger Lekki Phase 1 space on the way, this Christmas experience in Lagos might quietly become a year-round staple.

Not every Detty December memory needs a headline act.

Sometimes it just needs somewhere to belong.

Curious about what comes next, Enzo Reality continues to host immersive experiences and community-driven events in Lekki Phase 1. 

Details on upcoming activities can be found at , with regular updates shared across , , , and .听

Visitors can also reach out directly via WhatsApp or find directions easily on Google Maps to plan their next visit.

The colourful ceremony brought together customers, transporters, and key stakeholders including the Honourable Commissioner for Housing Lagos State, Hon Moruf, Akinderu Fatai, the Honourable Commissioner for Women Affairs, Cross Rivers State, members of the Board of Lafarge Africa Plc 鈥� Mrs. Adenike Ogunlesi, Mrs. Olusola Oworu and Mrs. Elenda Osima-Dokubo, and management and staff of the company; to honour exceptional performance and reinforce the strong partnerships that continue to drive the company鈥檚 growth across Nigeria.

The annual awards ceremony, regarded as the apex of Lafarge Africa鈥檚 commercial success, recognizes the invaluable contributions of customers and transporters who ensure the company鈥檚 products reach every part of the country. The 2025 edition celebrated partners whose dedication, integrity, and resilience have strengthened the company鈥檚 market leadership despite evolving economic realities.

Elder Ubong Bassey Obot of Ubotex Nigeria Limited emerged the National Volume Champion. Igwe Cosmas Ezeumeh Chizoba of C.C. Umeh and Sons Limited and Chief Etim Effiong Okon of Batoframoje Enterprises secured the titles of first and second runners-up, respectively. As the champion, Ubong Obot received a 2026 Toyota Land Cruiser. C.C. Umeh and Sons Limited and Batoframoje Enterprises were awarded a 2026 Toyota Prado and a 2026 Toyota Fortuner, respectively.听

Additionally, B.I.G MultiQuest Nigeria Limited was recognized as the National Winner- Best Transporter category and was awarded a 2026 Toyota Hilux.  Two customers who emerged as National Growth Champions received 15KVA Generating Sets, while 4 regional champions were rewarded with a Toyota RAV 4 cars each. Other winners received prizes including a Changan CS55, GAC S3, Hyndai Creta cars, 13KVA solar inverters, 80-inch Hisense TVs, deep freezers among others.

Welcoming guests to the event, the Group Managing Director/CEO, Lafarge Africa Plc, Lolu Alade-Akinyemi, expressed deep appreciation to the partners for their loyalty and commitment to the business. 

Lolu Alade-Akinyemi noted that Lafarge Africa鈥檚 growth story would be incomplete without its partners鈥� market insights, trust, and consistent support. He emphasized that the company would continue to push boundaries in quality, innovation, and high performance, inspired by the strength of its partnerships.

鈥淲e are here to honour partnership. We want to thank our customers for partnering with us in 2025. In 2025, we expanded our retail presence and focused on customer experience. We strengthened our ready-mix business, launched new products including Ecoplanet Elephant and  Ecocrete, our low-carbon cement and concrete solutions, and walked the talk on innovation, using technology as a competitive advantage. We could not have done this without our customers and partners,鈥� he said.

In his remarks, the Commercial Director of Lafarge Africa Plc, Gbenga Onimowo, described customers and transporters as 鈥渢rade champions鈥� whose excellence and unwavering belief in the company鈥檚 products have sustained the company’s strong position in the market.

Onimowo stated that their shared values and commitment to growth have created a mutually beneficial relationship built on trust, loyalty, and integrity.

鈥淵ou are a vital part of our business, ensuring our products are visible and accessible across the country. Your contribution merits daily appreciation. Tonight鈥檚 expression of thanks is special because it gives us the opportunity to celebrate our wins together, in person. While we celebrate tonight鈥檚 winners, we acknowledge that every partner here has contributed meaningfully to our success. We believe this recognition will inspire even greater achievements in the year ahead,鈥� he added.

Also speaking, the Logistics Director, Lafarge Africa Plc, Osaze Aghatise, acknowledged the transporters as the critical bridge between the company and its customers, ensuring efficient distribution and nationwide availability of its innovative building solutions. According to him, the awards serve as both recognition and motivation, encouraging partners to continue raising the bar.

The ceremony featured the announcement of various award o as categories, with top-performing partners receiving special recognition for their outstanding contributions. The evening was marked by celebration, networking with celebrities and notable artists, and camaraderie, reflecting the enduring spirit of collaboration that defines Lafarge Africa鈥檚 relationship with its trade partners.

At the just concluded Citizen Townhall 2026, experts strongly challenged the existence of 鈥榯he good old days鈥� in Nigeria鈥檚 history, emphasising critical thinking and active citizenship in creating what many thought had existed.

The Citizen Townhall, organised by 91大神 Citizen on 28th February 2026, saw over 200 Nigerians gather at the Four Points by Sheraton in Lagos to engage with the theme “Who Shapes The Nigerian Life?”

During the panel session titled The Nigerian Life鈥揟hen, Now, and What Changed, historians, data analysts, and policy experts dissected the structural failings that have led to a perennial sense of crisis. Moderated by BBC Africa Broadcast journalist Chiamaka Dike, the conversation quickly moved beyond simple nostalgia, identifying the 1970s as a pivotal era that established many of the country鈥檚 current institutional weaknesses.

senior analyst, Joachim MacEbong, opened the dialogue by identifying the 1970s as the closest approximation to a golden era, though he noted it was a product of circumstance rather than sustainable planning. 

“For me, I think that as far as Nigeria is concerned, the closest thing that Nigeria has to the good old days is the 1970s,” MacEbong remarked, attributing this sentiment to sky-high oil prices and a smaller population. 

However, he noted that this period also sowed the seeds of future instability. “The biggest problem is the human capital development crisis… that cycle began in the 70s with the purge of the civil service.”

Adesuwa Giwa-Osagie, an anchor and national correspondent on Arise News, challenged the very concept of a “golden age,” suggesting that the perception of a better past is merely a reflection of a deteriorating present. 

“There is no such thing as the good old days,” she said. “It鈥檚 been consistently getting worse.” She posited that the issues facing Nigeria today鈥攃orruption and lack of maintenance鈥攁re not new but are “bad behaviour recreating itself and building on itself over the last couple of years.” 

Giwa-Osagie further urged citizens to stop personalising institutional failures and start holding local authorities accountable.

Ayomide Akinbode, Founder of HistoryVille, provided a historical breakdown of how policy shifts fundamentally altered the trajectory of the Nigerian youth. 

He contrasted the early post-independence era, where “politicians improve the youth [and] see them as the future,” with the subsequent military era. “The military men came and said, ‘you are our boys now,'” Akinbode explained, noting that programmes like the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) and the War Against Indiscipline (WAI) were designed to “discipline” rather than empower. He argued that this shift led to a modern era in which “present politicians manage” the youth to prevent unrest rather than fostering growth. 

Akinbode attributed the failure of various government interventions to the lack of institutional permanence. “Institutions should not be based on the mood of the president or the mood of the political party,” he stated, adding that “our policies are good on paper, but to implement them is so hard or maybe impossible.”

Speaking further, Akinbode called for systemic change through consistent civic participation, as it鈥檚 the people, not 鈥渓ucky technocrats,鈥� who will ultimately ensure the success of policies.

The panel ended with a direct appeal from MacEbong, who warned that the status quo would remain without sustained engagement over multiple election cycles. “If you guys don鈥檛 go out to the polls in 2027, nothing is going to change here,” he said. 

The consensus among the speakers was that while the “good old days” may be a ghost of high oil prices and lower populations, the path to a functional future requires moving away from the “hustle” of managing crises toward the hard work of building institutions that can survive the whims of any single leader.

More than a health intervention, family planning is a , economic opportunity, and societal wellbeing. Yet Nigeria鈥檚 modern contraceptive prevalence . The country鈥檚 modern contraceptive prevalence rate (mCPR) , one of the lowest globally and far below of 60%, or 80% to 90% in some high-income countries. These figures represent millions of women whose reproductive choices are constrained by misinformation, systemic barriers, and socio-cultural norms.

The roots of misconceptions

Traditional practices often shared through family and peer networks remain common in many Nigerian communities. are sometimes seen as 鈥渟afer鈥� or 鈥渕ore natural鈥� than modern contraceptive methods, shaped by cultural norms, community trust, and distrust of formal health services., family planning services can be distant, costly once transport and time are counted, and surrounded by stigma for women who try to use them. It also helps to separate myths from such as , which require accurate information and consistent use to be effective.

Even when services are available, , worries about future fertility, and poor counselling can deter women from choosing medically approved options.  These practices are not simply about ignorance. They reflect trust in tradition, social reinforcement, and limited access to accurate information. As Nafisa (not her real name), a resident of Wassa IDP camp in Abuja explained, 鈥渨omen here want to space their children, but we fear pills and injections. We rely on what our mothers and neighbours taught us.鈥� This highlights that contraceptive uptake is intertwined with empowerment, trust, and informed decision-making.

Health workers warn that many of these home practices have no scientific basis for preventing pregnancy and may carry health risks. Dr Farida Adeyemo, a medical doctor at Deda Hospital, said: 鈥淪alt water and herbal mixtures do not prevent pregnancy. Some practices can also irritate or injure the reproductive tract.鈥� She further noted that myths about contraceptives, particularly fears of infertility, contribute significantly to low uptake. She explained that side effects vary by method and that counselling changes everything. 鈥淔or example, some women experience heavier bleeding with a copper IUD, especially at first. If women know what to expect and when to return for support, they are more likely to continue or switch safely.鈥� She emphasised that follow-up is critical because, 鈥渨e may not get it right the first time. That鈥檚 why method switching is common if side effects are not tolerable.鈥�

Expanding proven models in Nigeria

Evidence from Nigeria and across Africa demonstrates that well-supported contraceptive programmes can overcome mistrust. A in two rural communities in Ebonyi State implemented community mobilisation activities, engaging local leaders and distributing Information, Education, and Communication (IEC) materials. Awareness of family planning among women increased from , and uptake of family planning rose from over the intervention period. This shows how culturally grounded, community鈥憀ed engagement can shift both knowledge and behaviour around contraception, helping to dismantle myths.

In Kano State, engaged both men and women in discussions about child spacing and contraceptive use, raising awareness and increasing access to family planning services across communities. led to higher awareness, greater adoption of contraceptives, and more informed, joint reproductive decisions. A in Lagos assessed whether pharmacies and patent and proprietary medicine vendors (PPMVs) followed the Ministry of Health guidance when dispensing the (DMPA鈥慡C) for self-injection.

The findings revealed that many vendors, particularly in private outlets, did not provide clients with proper instructions or counselling. This highlights the need for stronger quality assurance measures in pharmacies and PPMVs, ensuring women receive safe and accurate guidance, an essential step for building trust and supporting the successful adoption of self-care contraceptive methods. While self鈥慶are has strong potential, safe scale-up depends on consistent, client-centred counselling, clear referral pathways, and follow-up support.

Improving family planning in Nigeria is not only about supplying modern contraceptive commodities. It is about trust, accurate information, respectful care, and women鈥檚 ability to choose freely. When counselling is weak and services feel judgemental or unreliable, myths fill the gap. The next step for policymakers and key decision makers to fund and implement , invest in community-led demand generation, strengthen commodity security, train providers to offer non-judgemental counselling, including for adolescents, and regulate and support PPMVs to deliver quality guidance, especially as self-care expands.

Lawmakers in the House of Representatives are trying to use their oversight powers to override a law which protects Nigerian users from exploitative digital lending platforms, and it鈥檚 as alarming as it鈥檚 embarrassing.

What鈥檚 going on?

Over the years, digital lending platforms in Nigeria have generally operated without regulation, and their users have suffered for it. In Nigeria, it is not uncommon to have a loan app threaten your life, post your photo on the internet with embarrassing captions about the debt you owe or spam your contacts with messages warning you to pay up. From data privacy violations, threats, to dubious interest rates, digital lenders have violated Nigerian users in so many ways.

In July 2025, the Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission (FCCPC) enacted the (DEON Regulations), to keep digital lenders in check.

The enactment of the DEON regulation meant that digital lending companies (loan apps and the like) have to comply and register with the FCCPC in order to avoid sanctions. The commission duly gave a January 5 deadline for this.

But on December 18, 2025, the Chairman of the Special Ad-Hoc Committee on Overlapping Jurisdictions, Procedural Gaps and Investor Concerns wrote a letter telling stakeholders and regulators to ignore the DEON Regulations in the meantime. The House of Representatives is doing this under the cover of its oversight privileges, but this is not what oversight entails. The House, in addition to lawmaking, is saddled with the responsibility of safeguarding the rule of law through principled, impartial oversight. But nothing about this its recent conduct signals that.

In addition to encouraging stakeholders in the digital lending industry to ignore the DEON regulations, the House of Representatives refused the FCCPC an opportunity to be heard during an investigative session held on December 15, 2025. This implies that the House had already drawn its own conclusions and was going ahead with it.

The House must understand that oversight is not a licence to substitute opinion for law. It is not a mechanism for suspending valid regulations by committee correspondence, and it is certainly not a platform for conferring informal exemptions on powerful market actors.

Why is this wrong?

Presently, . By disregarding the law and telling the industry that the DEON Regulations could be ignored, the House inadvertently handed undue advantage to dominant telecommunications companies and their lending partners. Smaller operators who have invested in compliance were left exposed, while powerful incumbents gained regulatory cover to continue business as usual. This is not market fairness; it is distortion sanctioned by silence.

When Parliament appears to side鈥攊ntentionally or otherwise鈥攚ith entrenched market power, it weakens Nigeria鈥檚 competition framework and undermines consumer protection. It also sends a chilling signal to regulators tasked with enforcing the law: that their authority is provisional, subject to political pressure rather than statutory mandate. No serious regulatory system can survive under such conditions.

Where do we go from here?

Members of the House must ask themselves a hard question. Is oversight being exercised in the public interest, or has it drifted into accommodation of influence? Is Parliament protecting consumers and the integrity of the market, or enabling regulatory arbitrage by the most powerful actors in the economy? History is unkind to legislatures that blur this line.

Nigeria鈥檚 digital economy depends on strong institutions that respect boundaries. Regulators must regulate. Courts must adjudicate. Legislators must legislate and oversee鈥攚ithout usurping executive or judicial functions. When these roles are confused, the rule of law becomes negotiable, and governance loses credibility.

What now?

The House of Representatives still has an opportunity to correct course. By reaffirming the enforceability of duly issued regulations, clarifying the limits of committee authority, and recommitting to fair, neutral oversight, it can restore confidence in parliamentary governance. Doing so would not weaken the House; it would strengthen it.

The alternative鈥攁llowing informal actions to erode lawful regulation while powerful corporations benefit鈥攔isks turning oversight into complicity. That is a legacy no responsible legislature should accept.

While it will be noble for the House of Reps to do the right thing, it will be sumptuous for Nigerians to do nothing. We owe it as a duty to ourselves to call lawmakers to order when they鈥檙e defaulting on the law and their responsibilities. With one voice, we must call them to order now and demand that they not interfere with the enforcement of the DEON regulations.

Young voices, big ideas, and the future of Nigeria all in one room. The Citizen Townhall is a flagship event by 91大神 where changemakers, experts, and everyday Nigerians will gather in Lagos to ask the hard questions: Who really decides our lives? What happens when we stay silent? And how powerful is our vote?

Don鈥檛 just read about politics when you can be part of it. Stay tuned for how to register.

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 鈥攚e鈥檇 love to hear from you!

I had done everything I was supposed to do. Having completed my secondary education in 2004, I went on to earn a National Diploma (ND) and subsequently a Higher National Diploma (HND) from a polytechnic. Like many Nigerians with similar qualifications, I expected that once school ended and I completed the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), a job would follow.

It didn鈥檛.

When NYSC ended in 2014, I returned to Kaduna and spent almost a full year looking for work. I applied everywhere I could, but nothing came through. During that period, I spent close to 鈧�200,000 trying to secure a job. By the end of that year, it became clear that waiting in Kaduna would not change my situation.

That was when I decided to pack my bags. I moved to Calabar to live with my uncle. 

I didn鈥檛 arrive in Calabar with a big business plan. I just knew I needed to work, and I needed something that could generate a daily income. I settled in Bogobiri, a district known as the commercial hub for the Hausa community here.

I started my business sometime between 2015 and 2016. My uncle played a significant role in getting me on my feet. He bought a heavy-duty generator and hired a carpenter to construct a charging table equipped with multiple ports. That setup costs about 鈧�20,000. He also gave me 鈧�60,000 to purchase chargers and a universal charging unit.

That was it. With roughly 80,000 Naira, I started the business.

At first, the business was relatively small. I charged phones for a fee and sold basic phone accessories, including chargers, screen guards, pouches, and casings, and gradually expanded.

In the early days, we charged between 鈧�10 and 鈧�20 per phone for a full day. Over time, that went up to 鈧�50, then 鈧�100. Today, in 2025, we charge 鈧�400 per phone. Costs have risen, too. Fuel, which once cost me 鈧�200 to 鈧�300 per day, now costs between 鈧�4,000 and 鈧�5,000 daily.

At the beginning, charging phones alone brought in about 鈧�1,500 to 鈧�2,000 per day. I also sold recharge cards to supplement my income. The margins were small, but the cash flow was steady.

The business didn鈥檛 become profitable immediately. Every business has its risks; mine is no different. In the phone charging business, liability is the primary challenge. 

For the first two years, we struggled. People didn鈥檛 know me. Trust takes time in this line of work. Phones went missing. Sometimes, I gave someone the wrong phone. When the real owner returned, and the phone couldn鈥檛 be found, I had to pay.

On average, I still replace about six to seven Android phones every year. I also replace more than 50 batteries annually. In the early days, it was worse. I hadn鈥檛 yet learned the systems that now protect the business.

Today, we use a card system. Each customer鈥檚 phone number and name are written down. Without the card, no phone is released. Experience taught me that structure is not optional. I showed up every single day. Slowly, people started to notice and trust the business. 

Three to four years into the business, we finally became profitable.

I鈥檝e never borrowed money to grow or expand the business, except for the initial assistance from my uncle. What I rely on instead is Adashe 鈥� a traditional Hausa communal savings system. I contribute between 鈧�1,000 and 鈧�1,500 daily. I鈥檓 patient with it. Sometimes I collect my contributions after three months. Sometimes I wait six months or even a year. When I collect, I restock the shop.

Most customers pay for our services in cash. Some prefer transfers, but cash is safer. During busy periods, it鈥檚 challenging to confirm every transfer claim. Fake alerts happen, and cash removes the risk.

On a typical evening, after a long day, we might have close to 100 people waiting to collect their phones. Cash, cards, phones, everything moves faster when it鈥檚 physical.

The business has grown significantly. What started as a one-man operation now employs two of my younger brothers. We work well together. The pressure has reduced as experience has increased.

I keep records. Every day, before and after closing, I write down various details, including income, expenses, credit extended, and repayments expected. It鈥檚 simple bookkeeping, but it protects me. I鈥檝e never closed this shop for more than a day unless there鈥檚 an emergency.

What this business has given me, more than anything else, is stability. I come from a large polygamous family. My father had four wives, and between them, we are nearly 20 siblings. From my mother alone, there are eight of us. The business supports a wider family network. When there are problems such as school fees, food, or emergencies, I can contribute. I may not always have the money immediately, but I say so honestly and ask for time. Most of the time, I find a way.

This is the only business I have ever been involved in. Since I started, it has sustained my life and also carried a shared responsibility. It is proof that even a small enterprise, built out of necessity, can become a source of stability for many.

Despite being from a different ethnic group, I鈥檝e never had issues living or working in Calabar. We communicate well with the locals. The area where I operate, Bogobiri, is known as a Hausa settlement. There is a Hausa emir here, and many of us from the north live and trade peacefully alongside the indigenous people.

I haven鈥檛 considered leaving Calabar ever since I moved. I haven鈥檛 tried to look for a job again either. This business became my job, slowly, relentlessly and out of necessity.

I travelled south to make a living, and I found my autonomy. In the activities of the Bogobiri market, I found my place in the Nigerian economy.

Murtala Garba is part of the millions of people who make up Nigeria鈥檚 informal economy. This is the second of a five-part series highlighting their stories. Moniepoint spoke to thousands of them and combined their stories with internal data from over 5 million business owners in a report you鈥檒l .

Also Read: I Make Money From Fishing. But Never Enough to Save

Her thumb hovered over the screen of her phone. She had been replaying the same thought for weeks, a whisper that grew louder with every conversation among her friends and cousins: 鈥�what if using contraception makes me barren?鈥� 

She was 23, single, and deeply aware of the consequences of being discovered asking such questions in her community. The shame would be heavy and the judgement unbearable. Yet, tonight, something about the quiet, the hum of her ceiling fan, and the privacy of her room gave her just enough courage to type the words.

鈥淲ill family planning make me barren?鈥�

She expected nothing. Maybe a robotic error message or no reply at all. But within seconds three dots began to dance on her screen, as if someone on the other end was taking her question seriously. Then came the response: a clear explanation of her options, from pills to injectables to implants. It acknowledged the myths she had heard, clarified what was true and what was not, and even shared the location of the nearest clinic if she wanted to talk to a professional.

鈥�For the first time, I felt like someone was listening,鈥� she said. 鈥�I didn鈥檛 feel judged. I could ask anything.鈥�

That exchange was not with a family member or friend. It was with , an AI-powered, multilingual sexual and reproductive health chatbot, a tool designed to quietly rewrite the rules of family planning for a generation caught between cultural silence and digital curiosity.

The crisis of silence

Nigeria has long struggled with low uptake of modern contraception, particularly among adolescents and young women. The statistics tell a sobering story with (mCPR) among married and sexually active unmarried women aged 15 to 19 years stands at just 3.3% according to the 2023 Nigeria demographic health survey (NDHS). This is among the

In addition, the 2023 NDHS shows that the unmet need for family planning among girls in this age group is about 16%, rising to over 21% for women in their early twenties. These figures are not just statistics; they reflect millions of young women facing unintended pregnancies, unsafe abortions, disrupted education, and worsening gender inequality.

Comprehensive sexual and reproductive health education policies exist on paper but are . providers hold biases, openly discouraging unmarried adolescents from seeking contraceptives. Clinics are underfunded and often unwelcoming.  , including fear of judgement from family, community, and health providers leaves many young people afraid to even ask questions, and where silence dominates, misinformation fills the gaps. Stories about contraception causing infertility, cancer, or promiscuity spread far more easily than evidence-based answers.

It is in this context that Honey & Banana emerged, a collaboration between , an AI-focused social enterprise; , one of the largest providers of contraceptives and family planning products in Nigeria, and . 

What they created is a chatbot that feels like chatting with a friend, yet its answers are medically accuracy and available in : English, Hausa, Yoruba, and soon Igbo and Pidgin.

A different kind of answer

At first, the idea seemed almost too simple. A chatbot? To address something as complex as reproductive health stigma? However, the design was intentional. is one of Africa鈥檚 largest smartphone markets, with over active social media users. 

For a young woman who cannot ask a question in class or at a clinic, a private chat window becomes a safe space, a barrier that shields her from judgement and stigma.

From the outset, DSN wanted the chatbot to do more than repeat medical jargon. It needed to feel alive, attuned to slang, and sensitive to cultural nuance. 

Users can ask about 鈥�konji鈥�, and it knows they mean being sexually aroused. Users say they are worried about a pregnancy after having unprotected sex and ask, 鈥淢y bobo don score me; I wan handle am,鈥� and it responds not scolding, but with empathy and proceeds to walk users through steps to take, including providing a referral to the nearest health facility to get emergency contraceptives. 

When users ask where to get 鈥�better tampoline for knacking鈥� and the AI app replies objectively, providing them with condom brand options, referring them to the closest pharmacy to procure their preferred brand choice. 

This localisation, made possible by training the model with data from the DKT call centre, enables the bot to understand the way Nigerians speak, including local slang and street terms related to reproductive health. This is one of its standout features, setting it apart from generic AI models like MetaAI and ChatGPT, which are not as proficient at interpreting these nuanced expressions.

From curiosity to care

The chatbot is only the front door. Behind it sits a larger ecosystem designed to ensure continuity of care, including a dedicated human call centre that provides family planning counselling and referral services. When a user鈥檚 questions reveal a need for deeper support, the system escalates seamlessly: offering the option to speak with a call centre agent or to be referred to a nearby clinic within DKT鈥檚 network. 

Those who consent receive follow-up calls to ensure they got the service they need, and even months later, they might receive check-ins about whether they are still satisfied with the service rendered. In a healthcare landscape where follow-up is often nonexistent, this continuity stands out.

Precious Nwaogbo, who is the Associate Programme Director at DKT, explained that 鈥�access to information is one of the core components to behavioral change. DKT set up the Call center to cater to individuals who want family planning information and stigma free information to allow them make informed decisions on what contraceptive method to use and where to access services. We partner with clinics and maternity homes so that after giving information they know where to access these services鈥�.

The DKT call centre responds to 300 to 500 successful calls each day. 鈥�Last year, 70% of the people who called us had never used modern contraceptives before,鈥� Precious Nwaogbo, who is the Associate Programme Director at DKT, explained. 鈥�That shows we are reaching those who are curious but hesitant, exactly the audience we need to serve.鈥�

The relationship between the chatbot and the call centre is cyclical. The chatbot acts as the initial entry point for many users, directing those who need deeper support to a call-centre agent. In turn, insights from call-centre conversations are continuously used to train and refine the chatbot through context-aware augmentation, ensuring it stays current, recognises local slang, and adapts to emerging family planning service-demand patterns.

DKT鈥檚 approach is not just digital; it is hybrid. Community mobilisers raise awareness on the ground, social media campaigns amplify the message online, the call centre offers family planning counselling guided by standardised protocols.

Together, they form what some experts describe as an 鈥渋ntegrated digital-physical ecosystem,鈥� that mirrors how people live, online, offline, and in constant motion between the two.

For Dr. Olubayo Adekanmbi, DSN鈥檚 founder, the goal was always to blend technology with empathy. 鈥淲e felt that there was a need to create a more personal interactive platform, where you can ask any question at any time,鈥� he said, adding that, 鈥�we saw the need to create an AI platform that leverages the capability of a chatbot to deliver personalised information in a very interactive manner that is also standardised.鈥�

Kenya has also experimented with youth-focused reproductive health apps like ; India with Interactive Voice Response (; and South Africa with . However, Honey & Banana stands out for its blend of AI personalisation, language diversity, and integration with a live provider network. It is not just an information tool; it is an access pipeline.

Nigeria鈥檚 digital divide poses a challenge

Every innovation comes with limits and the remains wide. Many rural communities lack stable internet connectivity, and  the cost of data- with average monthly data cost at – can be prohibitive, with over of Nigerians currently living below the international poverty line of $2.15 per day.

Smartphones are widespread, but not universal and for all its promise, Honey & Banana cannot reach women and girls in remote villages with no phone or the young man whose church condemns contraception outright.

The team is experimenting with ways to close these gaps. DSN intends to roll out an IVR version of the service, accessible on basic feature phones without internet. Videos are being compressed to reduce data costs. Community mobilisers continue to fill offline gaps. 

鈥�The next phase is designed for people without internet or smartphones. This way, even people with basic 鈥渒palasa鈥� phones [A Nigerian slang for non-browsing phones] can still access the service, making the platform more inclusive” says Olubayo.

However, scalability will require not just ingenuity but sustained funding. Donor support has powered much of the work so far, raising questions of long-term sustainability. 

Lessons beyond Nigeria

Even with its limitations, Honey & Banana offers lessons for others trying to navigate the complexities of adolescent sexual and reproductive health in conservative societies. First, speak the language of users, not just linguistically but culturally. Second, blend technology with empathy, recognising that AI is most powerful when paired with human support. Third, design for continuity, ensuring that uptake is not the end but the beginning of a journey. And fourth, harness data responsibly, because every chat query is not just a conversation but a data point that can illuminate emerging myths, shifting needs, and evolving trends.

Already, the platform鈥檚 analytics have proven useful beyond individual care. All conversations with the chatbot are catalogued on the backend for intensive research. These analyses help identify emerging patterns and insights. 

The human thread

The stories behind the numbers are often the most powerful. In Abuja, Peace (not her real name) a 27-year-old university student discovered emergency contraception for the first time through the chatbot. 鈥淥verall, the chatbot was easy to navigate. I was able to place a call, and it directed me to a clinic for family planning services, including details on costs,鈥� she shared. 鈥淭he call was completely free, and even when the network dropped, I received a call back for further assistance. It was a pleasant experience.鈥�

For Buchi (not her real name), a married woman who was referred from the call centre to a nearby facility, the experience was equally positive. She praised the quality of care she received when choosing a method. 鈥淭hey asked me what I preferred. I said the three-year method,鈥� she explained. 鈥淭hey also encouraged me to share any challenges I might notice afterward. I鈥檝e had none so far.鈥�

From the other end of the line, Blessing (not her real name), a call center manager in Lagos emphasised how important follow-up is for clients who adopt a method. 鈥淲hen clients realise someone is there to guide them through the use of their preferred method, they are less likely to drop off,鈥� she said. 

For her, the most rewarding moments are hearing the relief in a caller鈥檚 voice when they realise they are not alone in their fears and that what they are experiencing is not a death sentence. 

A quiet revolution

As Nigeria pushes toward its commitments under , aiming to expand access to modern contraception and reduce unmet needs, the need for innovations like this will only grow. 

For Rukayat, the journey did not end with her first chat. A week later, she spoke with a call centre agent who walked her through her options again, this time with even more detail. Two weeks after that, she visited a clinic where she received counselling and chose a method that suited her. She still receives occasional follow-up messages, reminders that her choice matters and that someone is invested in her wellbeing.

鈥�I used to feel like family planning was a secret I was not supposed to know about,鈥� she said. 鈥�Now I feel like it鈥檚 my right.鈥�

I was in SS 2 when I got pregnant and stopped going to school. I didn鈥檛 want people to notice when my stomach started to come out. So I stayed in my parents鈥� house trying to manage. The father of my child tried in his small way鈥� 鈧�1k here, 鈧�2k there 鈥� but money didn鈥檛 reach anywhere. 

In 2014, I gave birth to my baby girl. With nothing else to do, I鈥檇 sometimes collect goods from traders and help them sell. The little money I added to the price was my profit. My gain wasn鈥檛 big, but at least I could use the money to buy things for my daughter and me. That鈥檚 what I did for a few years: waking up, finding things to sell, and managing the small profit.

Along the line, my first relationship ended. By 2021, I was dating someone else and pregnant with my second child. Things were okay for a while until my man鈥檚 business spoiled. To survive, we crossed the river together to buy used toys from containers and selal them. The money kept us alive. 

After I gave birth to my second child, a boy, we started farming. We planted and harvested cassava for people. The money we earned from farm work was small, but we never had to beg.

One day, I asked a fisherman to sell me some fish I could resell in the market, but he refused. He said I didn鈥檛 have cash to pay. Also, people complained that his prices weren鈥檛 good. I decided that this fishing thing, I鈥檇 also try it. I went to one of my neighbours and asked her, 鈥淧lease borrow me 鈧�20k.鈥�

She asked me, 鈥淎re you sure you can do this?鈥�

I told her I鈥檇 try. I鈥檇 learn. She agreed to give me the money.

With that 鈧�20k, I found a man to weave ten fishing baskets 鈥� the ones we call Gura. After I paid him, nothing was left. Not even money for bait. A bucket of kuli kuli was 鈧�4k. The kind of money I didn’t have.

I asked my husband to help, and he told me he had no money. I believed him, but I was so desperate. So I asked him to give me the 鈧�2k he usually gave us for food every week. I told myself I’d manage.

I bought 鈧�1k worth of kuli kuli and 鈧�500 banga and set my traps. Once you set them, you just wait two days.

Those two days felt like forever.

When I returned two days later, I caught two small fish in two traps. Too small to sell. But it also told me the traps could work. So I cleaned the fish, used them to cook a pot of pepper soup, and told myself I would try again.

But I鈥檇 run out of money again. As I didn鈥檛 catch anything, I had nothing to sell. One fisherman saw me checking out my traps and asked why I looked so sad. I told him the truth.  He said he liked my spirit and offered to sell me 鈧�10k fish if I showed him where I lived. He wanted to know where to go for his money.

 I accepted the offer. After selling the fish, I made 鈧�3k profit. That became my new capital.

The next time I set my traps, one of them caught a big fish. I sold it for 鈧�15k. That money fed us for weeks. It felt like breathing properly for the first time in a long while.

I returned to the river to set my traps. Also, the fisherman and I have become friends. If he killed a lot of fish, he鈥檇 give me small to resell. In some weeks, I made 鈧�10k from this. Some weeks, I made 鈧�20k. Once, I made 鈧�40k.

This is a big part of my everyday life now. When my traps are empty, I鈥檇 look for a fisherman or another trader I can buy from. Sometimes, some of them sell to me on credit. They鈥檇 give me their account number or phone number, and I鈥檇 send them their money after I sell the fish.

Me, I sell to the fish traders at Swali market. They like my prices because I don鈥檛 charge them too much. So they can add money and make their own profit. The problem is that I have many customers, and I don’t always have enough fish for them, especially when things are slow.

And things are slow now. 

The river is bad because the water is low.

 When the water doesn鈥檛 move, the fish don鈥檛 move. 

Before the river got bad, a trip to my traps fetched me 鈧�15k – 鈧�20k. It was also easy to ask the fishermen to sell from their catch. Now the traps don鈥檛 catch plenty fish. Nobody has anything to sell. 

I don鈥檛 check my traps that much these days 鈥� I鈥檝e not even gone in two weeks. I spend more time on my farm, which I rented  for 鈧�3k/yard, where I plant cassava, yams, some pepper and okra.

Farming and fishing. That鈥檚 how I survive.

I also try to save. Every day, I put 鈧�500 in my akawo daily contributions.  The man comes to my house for the money and gives it back when I need it. But the money doesn鈥檛 grow. My family comes first, so money comes out to feed them. 

I have three children now. My youngest is two years old. My eldest is 11 years old, and my second child is five years old. Both of them go to school. I want them to have that option. 

As for me, I鈥檓 waiting for the rains. The fishing business is very good from January to March. I鈥檓 waiting for the river to rise, fish to return, and for work to continue. I鈥檓 happy that I found a way to make things work.

Yiteovie is part of the millions of people who make up Nigeria’s informal economy. This is the first of a five-part series highlighting their stories. Moniepoint spoke to thousands of them and combined their stories with internal data from over 5 million business owners in a report you’ll .