Equal Distribution of Wealth In Nigeria: Is this Achievable or is it a Mirage?

Collins Undelikwo
9 min readMar 20, 2024

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First Photo by Emmanuel Ikwuegbu on Unsplash

“…and what would you like to be in future?”, reporter asks. “If you could be anything you wanted to.”

“Anything?”, boy asks in return, a smile forming.

“Yes…anything at all.”

“Football…”.

“Footballer? You want to be a footballer?”

“Yes! Footballer. Ronaldo…Messi. Eh…Mbappe. Man U, Barca, Chelsea, Madrid…yes. I want to play for big club.”

“You want to be like Messi? You want to play for the big clubs in Europe?”

“Yes. Premier league. And World cup.”

“Do you think you can win the world cup for your country, Nigeria… if you became a footballer?” reporter asks.

“Yes. Yes. I dribble and score. I can score goal. Really good. I want to win World Cup for my country. Yes…Nigeria.”

“So you want to play with the likes of Osimhen?”

“Osimhen, Iwobi…eh…Chukwu eh…”

“Chukwueze!”

“Chukwueze, yes. All of the Nigeria team. Super Eagles, yes.”

“Now, I just want to ask you another question. Do you know what it takes to be a footballer? You have to be in an academy or get scouted… all of that. Are you aware of the costs and of the whole process?”

“You say? If I know…”

“If you are aware of what it takes. If you know…well…let me put it another way. So you told me it’s just you and your mother, yes?

“Yes. Yes.”

“Well, what steps are you taking or is your mother taking, to make sure you become that footballer you want? Are you doing anything currently to become a footballer?”

“I play football… sometimes. I used to play. But eh…no time again. I now have pure water…I have to sell the pure water now. So…no time.”

“So no time for football again? What about Saturdays?”

“No no. I sell Saturday. Yes. Saturday, I go to the field but not for play. I watch the other boys play. Me I go to sell the waters for them.”

“Well what happens if you don’t sell this water.”

“As I say…my mother leg not…not good. So I sell. Every day, the pure water. We have one pure water uncle that help us. He drive truck and bring the water…bag…yes. He bring it. We don’t pay anything, he just say sell. So I sell.”

“And you said you don’t go to school?”

“Yes, I stop…no school.”

“Alright. Last question, what would you like the government of Nigeria, the President, governors, anyone listening with the money and the means…what do you wish they would do for you and your mother?”

“I want the President and the governor and…and all the people to help. My mother leg not good and she need plenty money so she can walk. I want her to have money for herself and not pure water money. I…eh…”

“What about you? What about school? What about your dreams of being a footballer?”

“Yes. I want to go for school again, so I can become doctor…”

“I thought you said you wanted to become a footballer!” , reporter laughs.

“I want to be many things…” , boy chuckles. “…but footballer, yes.”

“So how about that…your football dream. How would you like your government to help?”

“Eh…I want them to help. But…even if I don’t become footballer, I really want play football on Saturday again.”

This is how an interview with a teenage boy living in a Nigerian slum might go. If he’s never had an education at all, then that well-spoken hypothetical, probably non-Nigerian reporter will need a translator. If that boy has never had a home, a father, a mother, or a kind ‘pure water uncle’, and all he’s ever known is life on the streets, then that reporter will need a translator and maybe some good running shoes.

From a 2022 Statista study, an estimated population of 88.4 million people in Nigeria lived in extreme poverty. Nigeria is a country notorious for its corrupt political leaders who have no regard for their suffering citizens. These already affluent leaders continue to siphon what’s left of the country; fattening their pockets, filling their bellies, and satisfying their ravenous greed.

Nigeria is also a country known for its thriving youth population. Young Nigerians are known for their brilliance, confidence, and their immense work ethic. Young Nigerians are also dreamers.

But, unfortunately, Nigeria is a place where dreams die faster than they are born.

A view of Marian Market environs, Calabar, Cross River State from the overhead walkway. Photo by me

There are so many things to say about the country. So much to write about the country’s poverty and its corrupt political class. But in a myriad of dysfunctions, it’s good to zero in on one thing once in a while. It’s good to talk about possible solutions.

Nigerians seldom talk about wealth redistribution. It’s such a vague, alien idea, something that immediately seems unfit for our clime, something Western.

Regardless, it’s anchored in the mind of almost every well-meaning Nigerian that we shouldn’t have this many poor people. It’s clear that something should be done about it; that people are dying; that the rich and powerful can stop all of it if they want to. Wealth redistribution is not a panacea, our problems are more deep-rooted.

However, I want to posit that we should think about it, and not just wealth redistribution as we know it. I want to talk about the concept, the idea itself. Specifically, I want to talk about wealth redistribution and dreams.

“Is equal wealth redistribution in Nigeria still achievable or is it a mirage?”. If you ask a very educated person this question, they will point to all the ‘isms’. Capitalism. Socialism. Communism. Marxism. Strong proponents will talk about Karl Marx himself. They will paint him as a savior, the wise visionary with the white beard who foresaw all present-day ills of cannibalistic capitalism. They will make him seem like Santa with the ideal economic model, the perfect sack bag to grant everyone goodies.

The antagonists will vilify the idea almost immediately. They will say that Santa is not real; that capitalism works just fine. They will paint an image of the bearded powerful man coming to steal your goodies and toss them to the streets. They will call wealth redistribution a pipe dream, an injustice. They will say everyone works for what they have, and when they get their pay, they deserve it. All of it. They will say that if you don’t have much, work harder. Capitalism works. You should too.

However, in Nigeria, not everyone is educated enough to argue about Marxist philosophy. Poverty is too visceral, too pervasive to be reduced or overcomplicated into theories and conversations about old bearded visionaries. A man is poor, he has no food, he lives in a country where the leaders he trusts to help him do not care. If he does not eat, he will die. It’s that simple.

Some people suffer worse than others. Again, according to statista, in 2023, while the employed male population in Nigeria was estimated at almost 40 million employees, female employees were projected to be slightly lower, at around 31.3 million.

Then there some are born into the entire mess. Children who are forced to speak the language of poverty, bear its mark on their protruding bones, their skin, their eyes, their smiles, or lack thereof. They have it ingrained in them that that is who they are.

They believe that is all they are and all they can ever be. Some cannot dream. Some were forced to the streets to face the world alone because they lost the people who brought them into it. Some were thrown out by their poverty-stricken family members who never had any education, and who believed that those children were witches.

Then there are fathers who flee. There are mothers who throw children in dumpsters. Some think that those children were spared; that they shouldn’t have been born at all; that their lives would’ve been worse if they lived. They laid them to rest amidst the slime, filth, and stench. Some children were found. Some slept peacefully. They dreamt their last.

The average person will wonder what all of these have to do with wealth redistribution. Equal redistribution as they know it is the government taking money from those who have a lot and giving it to those who have less; that it may not be ‘equal’ per se but that the balance in itself is equality. True. But that's not all it is. That’s not all people should think it is.

Marian Market, Calabar, Cross River State. Photo by me

Nigerian leaders haven’t shown that they can be trusted to execute any well-intentioned idea. Before thinking deeply about the subject of wealth redistribution, some would’ve concluded that it’s just not practical. They will quip immediately that no one will willingly give their money away. They will say that it will all be stolen by those corrupt politicians, as usual. They will say that redistribution is statistically impossible in Nigeria. Who will get the money? Who will not? They will ask questions, and in doing so they will answer mine. They will say that equal wealth redistribution is a mirage, a pipe dream.

Most people will agree with them, but I will not. Because just like any other young Nigerian and ambitious African, I know the importance of hope, of dreams. And this one is not hinged on an illusion.

Currently, people are already distributing their wealth in several ways. You may not see it. It wouldn’t predominate the news, but it’s happening. There are those giving out huge portions of their earnings to the poor. People are giving to those who have nothing to break their fast with during Ramadan. There are organizations, functional, transparent, and effective NGOs who have made it their primary goal to help those who cannot be helped.

There’s Red Cross Nigeria receiving donations and feeding multiple people. There’s Street Priests doing their best to cater to children living on the streets. There’s Tunde Onakoya, from Chess In Slums, who started out all on his own, taking from his pocket, filling street children will hope, and making them believe they could be more than forgotten and unloved bodies sleeping under bridges. This is not what people think wealth redistribution is. But this is where it starts.

It all starts from a consciousness. We all need to be aware that no matter how little we have, we can always coalesce to birth something bigger. Imagine a Nigeria where everyone, every church, mosque, shrine, school, office had this consciousness. We wouldn’t solve all the problems, but we would address a lot. Look at the Go-Fund-Me donations for people’s school fees or even for something as tragic as kidnap ransoms. Yes, the despotic leaders will still be there, but slowly we will scrape them out like worms. Imagine if everyone had that consciousness. Imagine if everyone had that dream.

Sculpted work in front of History department, University of Calabar. Photo by me

History shows that Africans were communitarian long before colonialism. We cared for each member of the clan. Go back in time and ask them what they thought of wealth redistribution and they’d ask if you’re mad for suggesting it could be a mirage or an illusion. We’ve taken traits that aren’t ours. We’ve inhaled so much of capitalism’s putrid air that it’s all we know. We can’t even picture a society that works without it. Even those who aren’t directly shackled by poverty are shackled by the fear of it.

The greatest oppression is the oppression of imagination. People stripped of their dignity and forced to live in inhumane conditions cannot dream beyond that reality. Even when they dream, it’s never that ambitious. They just dream of food, of a place to lay their head, of warmth, of the most minimal pleasures.

Equal wealth redistribution has to be redefined. For me, it is not unattainable, it’s not a mirage. It’s a dream, yes. But dreams aren’t built on nothing. We have a base upon which we can build. We can make it part and parcel of our collective consciousness. We can make it our collective dream. We need to do all of it for those who can’t. History has made it undeniably clear: era-defining change always starts with a dream.

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Collins Undelikwo

stopped writing after going through a series of unfortunate events called adulthood