From the Desk of Dr. Kayode Omolayo
My life and work have given me the privilege of travelling through airports, cities, and highways in different parts of the world — from Lagos to London, from Johannesburg to Toronto, from New York to Dubai. And in all these journeys, I have witnessed a fascinating but troubling pattern: Nigerians can be the most law-abiding people abroad, yet often the most law-defying at home.
I have stood in immigration lines at Heathrow Airport in London for nearly 20 minutes, watching my fellow Nigerians wait patiently, passport in hand, eyes on the immigration officer. No one dares to argue about the length of the queue, push past another traveller, or flash a “big man” smile to skip the line. The unspoken understanding is clear — if you break the rules here, the consequences will be swift and uncompromising.
In Italy, I once watched a Nigerian family at a train station. The mother gently reminded his children not to cross the yellow safety line before the train arrived, even though the platform was empty. This same mother, I suspect, would think nothing of crossing a busy Nigerian road outside a pedestrian bridge because “the road is free.”
In Toronto, I saw a Nigerian woman pay a hefty fine for forgetting to renew her parking permit. She paid without argument — no pleading, no calling a friend in the mayor’s office, no “Do you know who I am?” She simply obeyed the law, because she knew that in that system, the law is not optional.
But the transformation happens the moment the plane lands in Lagos or Abuja. I have seen it too many times. The same people who queued silently at Dubai Airport will rush to the front at Murtala Muhammed International, pushing trolleys into other passengers and demanding special treatment. I have watched travellers openly hand cash to customs officers to avoid inspection, and I have heard people brag about using “connections” to get their luggage cleared without delay.
On our roads, the contrast is even sharper. In Australia, a Nigerian friend once told me, “Here, one speeding ticket can wipe out your holiday budget.” And true to his word, I saw him drive slowly, checking speed signs religiously. Yet, back in Lagos, I saw the same man drive against traffic on a one-way street, narrowly missing oncoming cars, and later laugh it off, saying, “We do it all the time here.”
In Canada, waste disposal rules are obeyed to the letter. Nigerians there separate paper from plastics, plastics from organics, because a missed collection or fine is certain. In Nigeria, the same people will toss plastic bottles from moving cars, pile refuse on street corners, and burn waste in open spaces.
Even our celebrities and public figures are not immune to this behavioural shift. The recent airport incident involving Kwam 1 and Comfort Emmasson Bob shows how quickly public order can collapse when status and personal ego overshadow rules and procedures. Such an altercation in a Western airport would have been met with immediate intervention, possible arrest, and strict consequences — no matter the celebrity status of those involved.
The question is: Why do we behave so differently depending on location? From my experience, the answer lies in the environment. In Western countries, the law is not a suggestion — it is an absolute. It applies equally to a cleaner, a professor, a musician, or a politician. Surveillance is constant, punishment is swift, and no one is above the law.
In Nigeria, enforcement is selective. Laws are often applied with flexibility depending on who you know or how much you can pay. The certainty of punishment — the very thing that keeps people orderly abroad — is replaced by the possibility of negotiation or outright exemption.
From my travels, I have come to believe that the Nigerian character is not naturally lawless. We have shown, time and time again, that we can be orderly, disciplined, and respectful of systems when the environment demands it. The problem is that at home, our systems rarely demand it — and often reward the opposite.
If Nigeria ever builds a culture where laws are enforced fairly and consistently, without fear or favour, I am convinced we will see the same discipline in Lagos, Port Harcourt, and Abuja that we see in London, Toronto, and New York. The ability is in us; the challenge is to create the environment that brings it out.
Dr. Kayode Omolayo
Managing Partner
Fairway Attorneys at Law
Fairwaylawfirm@gmail.com
Facebook Comments