There are some things Nigerians will defend with the passion of a lawyer handling a billion-naira corruption case… even when everybody involved knows the thing has absolutely no business being defended. But the moment the debate starts, logic quietly excuses itself.
Suddenly, people are providing childhood stories, village traditions, and their grandmother’s opinion as evidence. Someone will raise their voice. Another person will quote “culture.” A third person will say, “You people just like complaining.”
And you’ll be standing there wondering: wait… are we really arguing about this?
Yes. Yes we are.
Because Nigerians have a special talent for passionately defending nonsense. Not small nonsense. Premium, fully-packaged nonsense with express delivery.
Take terrible customer service, for example.
You walk into a shop. You greet. Silence. You greet again. The person behind the counter looks at you like you just interrupted their life’s purpose. You ask for price, and they answer like you’re begging for a loan. But the moment you complain, somebody nearby will immediately jump in with the classic Nigerian defense: “Just manage her. That’s how she behaves.”
“Manage” her?
Why are we “managing” bad behaviour like it’s a chronic illness? Imagine buying food, and the waiter drops the plate like they’re angry rice exists. Instead of addressing it, Nigerians will start defending it.
“Maybe she’s tired.”
“My sister, business is hard in this country.”
Yes, business is hard. But must the customer also suffer emotional damage as part of the service?
Then there’s the legendary case of grown men who cannot do basic life tasks.
Ever met a full-grown human being who cannot cook, wash his clothes properly, or even boil water without supervision? Put him in the kitchen, and he looks like someone who mistakenly wandered into a chemistry lab.
But the moment someone points this out, a defense squad will assemble immediately.
“He’s a man. Why should he know all that?”
“His wife will handle it.”
“His mother spoiled him.”
Sir… you are thirty-something years old. If hunger meets you alone in the house, will you have to call 911?
Basic survival skills are not feminism. They are simply… adulthood.
Another national favourite Nigerians will defend is loud generators.
Everyone knows that sound. That aggressive midnight GBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR that enters your dreams and shakes your ancestors awake. Your neighbour’s generator sounds like it’s powering the entire street, three churches, and possibly a small airport. But if you dare complain about the noise, defenders will appear immediately.
“What do you want him to do? There’s no light.”
True. There’s no electricity. But must the generator sound like it’s in a physical fight with the environment? Some generators are so loud you can feel the vibration in your bones. The windows are shaking. The dog is confused. Even the generator itself sounds stressed. Yet Nigerians will defend it like the generator has fundamental human rights.
Then we have lateness. A lifestyle Nigerians have somehow turned into culture.
If an event invitation says 2 pm, experienced Nigerians already know what that means. It means start getting ready around 2 pm, and you will still arrive before the main event. The program says “Opening prayer – 2:15 pm.” Meanwhile, at 3:15 pm, the hall is still empty, and the MC is calling people who are “five minutes away” from three different locations. But once someone complains, the defenders step forward.
“This is African time.”
“Relax.”
“It’s our culture.” Ah yes. Culture. The magical shield that protects bad habits from criticism. But the funny part? The same people who defend lateness will arrive at the airport three hours early. Suddenly time matters again. Interesting.
Then there’s toxic family behaviour, another sacred Nigerian tradition that people defend like a national monument.
A relative can insult you publicly, disrespect you at family gatherings, gossip about you, and somehow the moment you respond, you are the problem. Immediately the elders gather like a disciplinary panel.
“Respect your elders.”
“Blood is thicker than water.”
“Family is everything.”
Yes, family is everything. But must it also be a full-time stress subscription? Apparently in Nigeria, once someone shares your surname, they automatically receive lifetime immunity.
And of course, we cannot forget the ultimate Nigerian defense phrase: “This is Nigeria.”
Someone throws trash out of a moving car. Someone blasts music at midnight in a residential street. Someone blocks an entire road because they want to “quickly buy something.”
The moment you question it, somebody will shrug and say it.
“This is Nigeria.”
Three words that have defended more nonsense than any lawyer can.
The funny thing is, Nigerians actually know these things are nonsense. We complain about them constantly. We rant about them on social media. We talk about them in group chats and at barbershops.
But the moment someone criticizes them too loudly, something inside us wakes up.
Suddenly we become defenders of the exact same behaviour we were complaining about five minutes ago.
Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s a habit. Maybe it’s survival mode after years of adapting to chaos. But somewhere along the line, we start confusing tolerance with loyalty. And Nigerians? We are extremely loyal people.
Sometimes… a little too loyal to defend nonsense.