On the busy streets of Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, Kano, and other bustling commercial hubs in Nigeria, the rhythm of life is marked by the relentless honking of vehicles, hurried footsteps of traders and shoppers, and the constant chatter of commerce. Yet, woven into this fabric of activity is an uncomfortable reality that is becoming too glaring to ignore: the culture of begging, which has morphed far beyond the familiar image of destitute individuals on street corners, has now invaded nearly every layer of daily interaction in the country’s commercial spaces. From fuel stations to shopping complexes, from roadside stalls to banks, even from people tasked with providing paid services, the act of asking—sometimes subtly, sometimes boldly—for extra money has become normalized. And this normalization is not only disturbing but deeply alarming.
What makes this trend so striking is not just its frequency but also its new faces. No longer is begging restricted to visibly poor individuals or those who are incapacitated by disabilities. Increasingly, it is the security officer who is already on a salary, the sales attendant who should be focused on serving customers, or the fuel dispenser who refuses to complete a transaction without hinting for a “little something.” In many cases, these are able-bodied individuals, some of them even appearing comfortably dressed, wielding smartphones, and clearly not in dire straits. This alarming culture of begging is fast turning into an entrenched behavioral norm, with dangerous social consequences.
A Systemic Normalization of Begging
For decades, Nigerians have been accustomed to the sight of beggars, especially in urban centers where economic inequality is most visible. From children led by adults to solicit sympathy, to elderly women seated near mosques and churches, begging has always existed on the margins of society. But the current reality is different. Begging has spilled into the mainstream of everyday transactions, eroding professionalism, stripping away dignity in service delivery, and creating discomfort for ordinary citizens who simply want to go about their daily activities.
Consider the simple act of visiting three commercial spaces in one day: a supermarket, a filling station, and a bank. At the supermarket, the security guard at the entrance not only greets but also expects a tip for opening the door, as if politeness were no longer a courtesy but a monetized act. At the filling station, the attendant deliberately pumps ₦4,000 fuel but hesitates to complete the transaction or processes a bank transfer reluctantly unless you “add something for the boys.” At the bank, the staff may not directly ask, but the security detail monitoring queues might whisper or gesture for a token. By the end of the day, the average young Nigerian finds himself repeatedly targeted, not by the destitute but by those formally engaged to provide services already paid for.
The Targeting of Young Nigerians
One striking observation made by many is that beggars, whether formal or informal, often focus their requests on young Nigerians who appear well-dressed or reasonably comfortable. This targeting is not accidental. There is a perception that young people—particularly those with smartphones, laptops, or trendy clothes—must have disposable income. Many report that they deliberately wear stern, unapproachable expressions when stepping into commercial spaces to ward off unwanted requests.
This dynamic is deeply troubling because it subtly criminalizes success or even the appearance of success. It suggests that simply being young and presentable is an invitation for exploitation. Older men and women, in contrast, are less likely to be harassed in this way, reinforcing the perception that young people are “easy catches.” This dynamic feeds into a larger cultural narrative that views the youth not as hardworking individuals striving to make a living, but as people with money to waste.
The Filling Station Syndrome
Among the most notorious sites of this begging culture are filling stations. Here, the expectation for tips has become almost ritualized. After dispensing fuel, attendants routinely stall, waiting for the driver or customer to hand them extra cash. In cases where electronic transfers are made, attendants sometimes demand that customers “add something” to cover supposed transfer fees, despite the fact that such costs should be borne by the business and not the customer. This interaction is rarely about desperate need; rather, it is about a normalized culture of demanding extras as though it were a right.
For customers, this not only creates frustration but also undermines trust in service delivery. Many Nigerians complain that it is impossible to get fuel without being put under subtle pressure to part with more money than required. Over time, this behavior erodes confidence in even the simplest economic exchanges, embedding the idea that nothing in Nigeria can be done without “settling” someone.
The Blurring Lines Between Need and Greed
One of the greatest tragedies of this culture is that it obscures the difference between those who genuinely need help and those who are merely opportunistic. As begging becomes rampant, it becomes harder for well-meaning individuals to distinguish between a person in desperate need and someone merely exploiting a trend. For example, a young man holding an iPhone 12 might still stop to beg for “transport fare,” raising questions about whether he truly lacks money or is simply preying on others’ generosity.
This blurring of lines has serious implications. It risks creating apathy in society, where genuine cases of need are ignored because of overexposure to casual begging. Nigerians increasingly report feeling overwhelmed and unwilling to help anyone, fearing that their assistance will simply fund frivolous habits like drug use, gambling, or unnecessary indulgences.
The Social Consequences
The entrenchment of begging in commercial hubs points to deeper systemic failures. It reflects the crushing weight of unemployment, underemployment, and inflation in a country where millions of people feel economically insecure. It also highlights a weakening of social values, where dignity in labor is replaced by the normalization of shortcuts.
But beyond economics, the psychological consequences are equally troubling. Citizens are constantly placed in morally uncomfortable positions, forced to decide whether to comply with requests or risk being labeled stingy or unfriendly. This erodes social trust and introduces unnecessary tension into everyday encounters.
Investigating the Roots
An investigative look at the issue reveals multiple root causes:
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Economic Pressures: With inflation eating into wages, many low-income earners resort to begging to supplement their meager earnings.
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Cultural Shifts: The normalization of “settling” people has blurred the line between generosity and entitlement.
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Weak Enforcement of Professional Standards: Employers rarely discipline staff who harass customers for tips, effectively condoning the practice.
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Youth Unemployment: With millions of young people jobless, many see begging as a stopgap measure, regardless of their outward appearance.
The Hidden Threat to Society
While it may appear benign compared to violent crimes, the begging epidemic poses a hidden threat to Nigeria’s social and economic fabric. It undermines the sanctity of contracts and services, where payment is no longer sufficient, and extra inducement is demanded. It also corrodes civic life, breeding resentment and mistrust among citizens. Moreover, it feeds into the broader narrative of systemic dysfunction, where rules and expectations are constantly bent.
If unchecked, this culture could spiral further into outright extortion, where service providers hold back basic duties until they are “settled.” At that point, begging ceases to be informal and becomes institutionalized corruption.
What Needs to Be Done
To curb this trend, a multipronged approach is necessary:
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Reinforce Professional Standards: Employers in filling stations, malls, and offices must establish zero-tolerance policies for begging in service delivery.
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Public Awareness Campaigns: There needs to be a nationwide conversation about restoring dignity in labor and discouraging casual begging.
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Social Safety Nets: Government must strengthen social welfare programs to support genuinely vulnerable individuals, reducing the need to beg.
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Community Action: Citizens must learn to distinguish between real need and exploitation, supporting only verified cases.
Conclusion
Nigeria’s commercial hubs, meant to be centers of productivity and exchange, are increasingly being overshadowed by a troubling culture of begging. What began as occasional requests has now grown into a systemic problem that cuts across professions and interactions. It targets the youth, exploits the working class, and undermines trust in society. More dangerously, it risks creating a culture where begging becomes not just tolerated but expected, reducing the value of hard work and professionalism.
The time to act is now. If Nigerians continue to normalize this trend, the thin line between service and exploitation will vanish completely, leaving in its place a society where every interaction carries the weight of an unspoken demand. The question is no longer whether begging exists in Nigeria’s commercial spaces—it is how far it will go if left unchallenged.
