Feature/OPED
Sacred Journeys, Earthly Burdens: The Cost of Nigeria’s Pilgrimage Economy
By Prince Charles Dickson PhD
The desert does not care for your prayers. It swallows them whole, along with your sweat, doubts, and wallet weight. Yet here we were—Nigerians in Jordan, then Israel, tracing paths carved by prophets and kings, stepping on stones smoothed by millennia of footsteps. From the Dead Sea’s buoyant bitterness to Bethlehem’s star-marked grottoes, the land thrums with sacred electricity. But as she walked, she couldn’t shake the question: What does this cost us? Not just in naira, but in soul.
You remember the chaos—Abuja’s airport buzzing with first-time pilgrims clutching rosaries and Qurans, tour guides shouting over the din, warnings about “japa temptations” mingling with sermons. For many, this was a once-in-a-lifetime escape: from potholed streets, blackouts, and the gnawing uncertainty of survival back home. Yet even here, in the shadow of Herod’s stones and Galilee’s shores, Nigeria followed us. The tour operators in Jordan haggled like Lagos market women; Israeli border guards scrutinized our green passports with weary suspicion. And beneath it all, the Gaza war hummed like a discordant hymn, a reminder that holiness and human conflict are ancient bedfellows.
Let’s talk numbers; if a single pilgrimage package costs roughly N3.5 to N5 million per person, multiply that by thousands of pilgrims annually, and Nigeria bleeds billions into foreign economies.
In Jordan, our guides grinned as they narrated Petra’s history, their pockets fattened by dollars. In Israel, the pilgrimage industry is a well-oiled machine: hotels near Nazareth charge premium rates, Dead Sea mud is packaged and sold as divine therapy, and even the Via Dolorosa has a gift shop. Meanwhile, back home, nurses strike over unpaid wages and students scratch equations into dust-choked chalkboards.
The Catholic Bishops’ recent call cuts like a knife: “Stop funding pilgrimages. Let faith pay its way.” Their logic is mercilessly practical: why should a nation drowning in debt—where 63% of citizens survive on less than $2 a day—subsidize spiritual tourism for a privileged few? The National Hajj Commission (NAHCON) and Christian Pilgrims’ Board, riddled with corruption scandals, stand as monuments to mismanagement.
Remember the 2017 scandal where officials embezzled ₦90 million meant for pilgrims’ visas? Or the 2022 Hajj airlift fiasco that stranded thousands? These boards, the bishops argue, “serve neither their adherents nor the nation.”
Yet, the allure persists. For many pilgrims, government sponsorship isn’t just a subsidy—it’s a lifeline. “I saved for ten years,” a retired teacher from Enugu told me, her eyes glistening at the Jordan River. “Without the board’s help, I’d never see Jerusalem.” Herein lies the paradox: pilgrimage is both a spiritual awakening and a symptom of systemic failure. When the state funds faith, it commodifies it—and when it withdraws, it risks severing the vulnerable from their solace.
Ah, the pilgrims themselves! Nigerians are nothing if not theatrical. There were the “Captains”—self-appointed prayer warriors who bossed others around like generals in God’s army. The Comedians, crack jokes at Caiaphas’ dungeon to ease the tension. The Holier-Than-Thous, who tsk-tsked at women’s uncovered hair while surreptitiously snapping selfies at Golgotha and the quiet ones, like the widow from Sokoto who touched the Western Wall and wept without sound.
But spirituality here is tangled with spectacle. At the Dead Sea, I watched a pastor bottle the salty water, declaring it “a weapon against household witches.” In Bethlehem, traders hawked olive-wood crosses next to “I Error! Filename not specified. Jesus” t-shirts. Is this awakening? Or is it the monetization of longing?
The bishops’ critique is not just fiscal—it’s theological. “True faith,” their statement insists, “is not measured in miles travelled but in mercy shown.” They urge a reckoning: if Nigeria redirected pilgrimage funds to healthcare, education, or infrastructure, could that itself be a sacred act? Imagine N30 billion—the approximate annual cost of state-sponsored pilgrimages—channeled into neonatal clinics or rural electrification. Would that not honor the “least of these” whom Christ called us to serve?
But the counterargument simmers: pilgrimages foster unity, they say. On that flight to Tel Aviv, I saw Muslims and Christians swap snacks and stories. A Hausa imam helped a Yoruba grandmother fasten her seatbelt. For a moment, Nigeria felt possible again. Yet this fragile camaraderie exists in a bubble—one paid for by a state that can’t fix its roads.
You asked me, “Can’t we have both—pilgrimages and progress?”* Perhaps. But not under this broken model. Here’s the radical alternative:
Decouple State and Sanctuary: Let religious groups self-organize pilgrimages, as the bishops propose. If a church or mosque can rally its flock to fund journeys, so be it—but without dipping into public coffers.
Audit the Sacred: Demand transparency from pilgrimage boards. Publish budgets, punish graft, and let pilgrims know exactly where their money goes.
Reinvest in the Here and Now: Redirect saved funds to tangible ministries—hospitals, schools, food banks—that embody “love thy neighbour” more vividly than any tour group.
On our last night in Jerusalem, I sat with a group under the stars. Nima from Plateau said quietly, “I came to feel closer to God. But I felt Him more when that waiter in Amman refilled my water…”. I urged her to tell the story—
It was the unlikeliest of sanctuaries—a crowded restaurant, humming with the chaos of clattering plates and overlapping voices. Amid the rush, a young waiter moved with a grace that transcended duty. His smile was not merely professional; it was an offering. In a world where transactions often eclipse connection, he chose to see me. I asked for three small things: hot water to refill my flask, a bowl of midnight-dark yogurt, and sugar to sweeten it—simple requests, yet specific, requiring attention in a sea of demands. He could have sighed, rolled his eyes, or deferred to the crowd. Instead, he leaned in.
His “of course” was a quiet rebellion against indifference.
The steaming flask returned, cradled like something sacred. The yogurt arrived, its darkness cradled in a bowl that gleamed like polished obsidian. The sugar, poured with care, became more than a condiment—it was a covenant.
At that moment, the noise faded. Here was a stranger who had every reason to rush, yet chose to pause. Here was proof that kindness is not a grand gesture reserved for saints, but a series of deliberate, ordinary acts: I will listen. I will try. You matter.
How much lighter the weight of our differences would be if we all carried this truth: that every interaction is a crossroads. We can choose to armour ourselves in a hurry, or we can meet one another as this young man did—with eyes that recognize a shared humanity. The systems we’ve built—borders, hierarchies, ideologies—are illusions compared to the raw, aching need we all harbor: to be treated gently, to be acknowledged.
As I stirred the sugar into the yogurt, dissolving bitterness into sweetness, I thought of all the ways we hunger. For warmth. For dignity. For the courage to ask for what we need, and the grace to honor those who ask. The world will not slow down. But in its frenzy, we can be oases for one another—pouring hot water into empty vessels, handing over sugar like a promise.
This is how we mend the fractures: not with grand declarations, but with the daily sacrament of paying attention. The waiter’s name is lost to me now, but his lesson lingers: in a universe that often feels cold and vast, we hold the power to make it intimate, one act of deliberate kindness at a time.
What if we all moved through life as he did—not merely serving, but seeing?
There it is—the heart of the matter. Spirituality isn’t stamped in a passport; it’s woven into daily acts of attention, kindness, and justice. Nigeria’s pilgrimage industry, for all its grandeur, risks reducing faith to a transactional spectacle. The bishops aren’t arguing against devotion—they’re pleading for a redefinition of what’s holy.
The desert still whispers. But maybe the miracle we need isn’t in Jordan’s rivers or Jerusalem’s tombs. Maybe it’s in the courage to stay home—to build a nation where the sacred isn’t a luxury, but a lived reality. May Nigeria win!
By Jerome-Mario Utomi
The April 12, 2025, defection of members of the Delta Unity Group (DUG) to the All Progressive Congress (APC) signposts a major political shift in Delta’s politics.
Pundits believe that the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) which presently controls the state needs a miracle to win Delta’s 2027 governorship election given the massive haemorrhage that has hit it. Essentially, the over 10,000 members of the DUG and their supporters who defected to the APC were made up of seasoned grassroots PDP chieftains.
The defectors were received by the National Chairman of the All-Progressive Congress (APC), Mr Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, Governor Monday Okpebholo of Edo State, and the Chairman of the Governing Board of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC), Mr Chiedu Ebie, alongside other notable political figures in Delta State.
So far, Deltans are enamoured by the significant political shift with many describing the development as a political earthquake which was long overdue. Because of its grassroots orientation, political analysts have likened the DUG to the Mandate Group, an independent political pressure group that midwifed the election of Mr Bola Tinubu, now President, as Lagos State Governor in the late 1990s.
In the run up to the 2023 presidential election, among so many objectives, the group was primed and positioned to defend President Tinubu’s mandate and promote democracy, unity, justice, and liberty in Nigeria, mobilize support for him and Vice President Kashim Shettima’s administration, Promote Unity and Justice: Foster national unity, justice, and liberty for all Nigerians among others.
The Mandate Group which has established structures in all 36 states, with plans to launch state chapters and currently have 580,000 members in Lagos and aim to reach 40 million members nationwide within the next 12 months, targets various segments of society, including: Students, Workers, Artisans, Teachers, Fishermen, Farmers and Women.
In like manner, the DUG has emerged as a third force in Delta State politics. Although it is not a new body, it has, over the years, been quietly bestriding Delta’s political landscape for the good of the state. Call it a third force in the politics of Delta State, and you won’t be wrong because, from all ramifications, that is what DUG represents.
DUG is by no means a political party, but, as the name implies, it is a Delta State based political pressure group convened a few years ago by the selfless, foresighted and influential trio of Mr Olu-Tokunbo (Lulu) Enaboifo, Mr Chiedu Ebie and Sir Itiako (Malik) Ikpokpo.
Their aim and dream were to establish a political pressure group with an agenda to modernize Delta State and also serve as the brain box of the campaign platform of Olorogun David Edevbie, who was vying for the governorship candidate of PDP towards the 2023 gubernatorial election.
Even though the aspiration ended with the Supreme Court ruling in favour of Governor Sheriff Oborevwori of Delta State, the DUG remained a strong force that started building gradually on the dream of a modernized Delta State. DUG has an organizational structure of 17 National Executive Council members, a Board of Trustees, and Local Government Executives in all the 25 local governments in Delta State, with Ward Executives in all the wards across Delta State, DUG is deeply rooted in the grassroots of Delta State with its cell-like structures.
Prior to the 2023 election, a wing of DUG, at the Obinoba Declaration, crossed over to APC, where the APC governorship candidate, Mr Ovie Omo-Agege, described them as the intelligent wing of PDP.
The group significantly made a huge difference in the 2023 general elections in Delta State. The DUG members in the Delta North Senatorial District, at that point in time, remained with PDP and after full deliberation and strategizing, opted to support the candidature of the APC governorship candidate and all other candidates of APC, even though they had not formally left the PDP. Consequently, most of them were either suspended or cast away by PDP after the elections.
It was easy to blend and work harmoniously with the progressives due to the progressive mindset of DUG members. After the 2023 general elections in Delta State, DUG members of Ika Federal Constituency continued to align and work closely with the APC to strengthen the party and ensure that it is properly positioned to convert the Ika Federal Constituency to an APC constituency come 2027.
To the glory of God, President Tinubu found DUG’s co-founder/convener, Mr Ebie, fit to chair the Governing Board of the NDDC in 2023. This further gave the DUG more vigor to project the Renewed Hope Agenda of the progressive governance of Mr President. Following this appointment, Ika Federal Constituency became the heartbeat of DUG in Delta State, which has now radiated positively to Ndokwa/Ukwuani and Aniocha/Oshimili Federal Constituencies in Delta North.
This wave, which has led to the massive decamping of members of PDP and the Labour Party into DUG in preparation for absorption into the APC, has also witnessed the reactivation of some dormant APC ambers and the massive welcoming of previously non-partisan and newly retired civil servants into the APC, having witnessed the positive impact of the Renewed Hope Agenda of Mr. President.
Because the group was fully poised for the reconfiguration of Delta State in the progressive fold of the APC, it is therefore, not surprising to witness the humongous crowd that emptied into APC on 12th day of April, 2025 in Agbor, Ika Federal Constituency, Delta State.
Going by the above development, it is obvious that come 2027, Ika nation in particular and Deltans in general shall witness the dethronement of People’s Democratic Party, PDP, in the state and enthronement of a people focused leadership to be formed by the All Progressive Congress, APC, in line with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda.
Utomi, a media specialist, writes from Lagos, Nigeria. He can be reached via [email protected]/
Africa’s creative industries, from music and film to fashion, writing, and branding, are experiencing remarkable growth. However, as the sector flourishes, so do the threats posed by piracy and copyright infringement. Without proper protection, creators risk losing the value and recognition they deserve for their original work.
Copyright remains the first and most important line of defence. In many African countries, copyright protection begins automatically once a creative work, such as a song, logo, film, or design, is fixed in a tangible form. This protection can last for the creator’s lifetime, and in most cases, up to 70 years after. Yet, while automatic copyright provides a foundation, official registration strengthens legal standing and can be critical in resolving disputes.
When a creator’s work is used without permission, the violation must be addressed swiftly. Experts advise that the first step is to gather evidence—screenshots, URLS, timestamps, user details, and even data showing engagement or financial gain from the misused content. Proof of ownership, such as original files with timestamps, draft versions, or social media records of earlier uploads, is equally vital.
“Creators should always have proof of ownership ready,” says Frikkie Jonker, Director of Anti-Piracy at MultiChoice. “That could be anything from original project files to old emails or posts. It’s one of the most effective tools in enforcing your rights.”
Once evidence is collected, creators can issue takedown requests through social platforms or send formal cease-and-desist letters to website owners or hosts. Although enforcement processes differ by country, most African nations have copyright laws aligned with global standards like the U.S. DMCA. In many cases, showing credible ownership is enough to have infringing content removed.
If infringement continues or is being done at scale, such as by piracy rings or repeat offenders, creators may need to escalate the issue by reporting it to national copyright commissions or law enforcement. Efforts are also being bolstered across the continent through cooperation under agreements like the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), with international bodies like Interpol, Afripol, and WIPO supporting cross-border enforcement.
Preventative measures are just as important. Creators are encouraged to use tools like digital watermarking and content fingerprinting to protect their work from unauthorised use online. Furthermore, smart monetisation strategies, such as YouTube’s Content ID syste,m can allow creators to earn revenue even when their content is reused without prior permission.
By understanding their rights, taking proactive steps to protect their creations, and using available technologies, African creatives can safeguard their work while continuing to build sustainable, long-term careers.
By Saifullahi Attahir
If there was ever anything that gave me goosebumps and immense pleasure, it was being surrounded by intellectuals and mature minds absorbing facts and figures about governance, economics, public health, policymaking, national security, and international relations. In such situations I easily lose myself, forgetting almost all other things.
Even at medical school, my best lectures were those with frequent digressions, whereby the lecturer would discuss the pathogenesis of diseases for 30 minutes and later sidetrack into discussing politics, governance, or other life issues. I always enjoyed classes led by Prof. Sagir Gumel, Dr. Murtala Abubakar, Dr. Rasheed Wemimo, Dr. Aliyu Mai Goro, and co.
During such lectures, I often observed some of my colleagues disappointment for such deviation. I rather casually show indifference, for I was eternally grateful for such discussions due to the stimulatory effect they had on my mind.
After such classes, I sometimes followed up with the lecturer, not to ask about a medical concept I did not grasp, but to ask for further explanation on policy making, project execution, budgetary expenditures, why African countries are left behind, and similar pressing issues.
In situations where I can’t catch up with the lecturer, I jotted down the questions for further deliberation.
One of the manifest feature I know about my greediness was at reading books. I can open five different books in a day. I lack such discipline to finish up one before another. I can start reading ‘Mein Kampf’ by Adolf Hitler, and halfway through 300 pages, I would pick up ‘My Life’ by Sir Ahmadu Bello, and would have to concurrently read both until the end.
I often scolded myself for such an attitude, but I can’t help myself. The only way to practice such discipline was to at least read two different books in a day. Such was a triumph in my practice of self-discipline. This was apart from my conventional medical textbooks.
To some of my friends, I was called an accidental medical doctor, but actually it was a perfect fate guided by the merciful Lord that I’m studying medicine.
For it was only medicine that makes reading books easier for you. Although time is precious in this profession, but one finds it easier to do anything you are passionate about. The daily interaction we have with people at their most vulnerable state was another psychostimulant. Seeing humans suffering from disease conditions is heartache. Some of the causes are mere ignorance, poverty, superstitions, and limited resources.
The contribution one can give couldn’t be limited to just prescribing drugs or surgical procedures that end up affecting one person. It’s much better to involve one self in to position that may bring possible change to the whole society even in form of orientation.
What also motivated me more was how I wasn’t the first to traverse this similar path. Bibliophiles were common among medical students and medical professionals.
At international level, the former Prime Minister of Malaysia, Dr. Mahathir Muhammad, was a physician.
Most of the current economic development of Malaysia was attributed to him. The South American revolutionary figure Che Guevara was a physician. Atul Gawande was an endocrinologist, health policy analyst, adviser to former President Obama, campaign volunteer to former President Bill Clinton, and adviser to USAID/WHO on health policies.
Frantz Fanon was another physician, psychiatrist, racial discrimination activist, and political writer. Dr. Zakir Naik was a renowned Islamic scholar, comparative religion expert, and physician.
At the national level, Prof. Usman Yusuf is a haematologist, former NHIS DG, and currently a political activist. Dr. Aminu Abdullahi Taura was a psychiatrist and former SSG to the Jigawa state government. Dr. Nuraddeen Muhammad was a psychiatrist and former cabinet minister to President Goodluck Jonathan.
During ward rounds and clinics, my mind often wanders to enquire not just about the diagnosis but the actual cause of the disease condition; why would a 17-year-old multiparous young lady develop peripartum cardiomyopathy (PPCM)? Why would a 5-year-old child develop severe anaemia from a mosquito bite? Why would a 25-year-old friend of mine develop chronic kidney disease, and his family would have to sell all their belongings for his treatment? Why are our Accident and Emergency units filled with road traffic accident cases? Was it bad road conditions or lack of adherence to traffic laws and orders?
Why are African countries still battling with 19th century diseases like Tuberculosis, filariasis, and malarial infections? Why issues of fighting cervical cancer and vaccination campaigns are treated with contempt in our societies? Why access to basic primary healthcare in Nigeria was still a luxury 50 years after Alma Ata declaration?
The questions are never-ending…
Answers to these questions could be found not in the conventional medical textbooks like Robbins/Cotrand, Davidson, or Sabiston. Answers to these questions are there on our faces. Answers to these questions are tied to the very fabric of our social life, our public institutions, our culture, and our life perspectives.
In order to make any significant contribution towards the betterment of this kind of society, it would be quite easier as an insider rather than an outsider. You can’t bring any positive outcome by just talking or commenting. It was rightly stated that a cat in gloves catches no mice.
The real players in a game are always better than the spectators. A player deserves accolades despite his shortcomings, frequent falls, and inability to deliver as planned theoretically. For the player has seen it all, because so many things in public life are not as they appear. It’s only when you are there that the reality becomes visible. This is the reason why many leaders who have goodwill and enjoy public support appear to have lost track or contributed insignificantly when elected or appointed into office.
But despite all these challenges, one can’t decline to do something good just because something bad might happen. The risk is worth it….
Attahir wrote from Federal University Dutse
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