Were Lagos a human being, she'd be draped in an N5m sequin dress, basking beneath the radiant shimmer of thousands of holiday lights, eclipsing the very stars above. This December, the city is at its usual peak energy level. Whether it’s along the freshly cleared roads of the Eti-Osa/Lekki-Epe Expressway or within the illuminated hideaways of Victoria Island, the "Detty December" system is operating at maximum speed. We're teetering on the brink of a N58tn budget, attempting to mask the "Budget of Restoration" with the powerful beats of Afrobeat performances. With members of the diaspora arriving back here sporting Texan inflections, British slang, or even my distinct Glasgow Scottish dialect, we rush to secure N250,000 "standard" admission passes. Yet another form of intensity is sweeping in from Washington D.C., something not even the coolers at Eko Hotel can handle.
As the holiday music reached its peak, an unexpected disruption came out of Washington. Meanwhile, society figures debated which brand—Prada or Gucci—to sport at the beach club, and officials boasted about who had earned $1 million by age 29 in 1997, when someone else was still studying law (statements intended to highlight whose financial status gave them an edge upon entering Nigeria’s lucrative political scene), the U.S. administration was subtly changing its approach towards visitors from various nations. Starting January 1, 2026, Executive Order 10998 will impose restrictions on entries and visa grants for citizens from numerous countries, such as Nigeria, citing reasons related to national safety and screening issues. According to this directive, American embassy staff must halt issuing most immigration and non-immigration visas—including B-1/B-2 tourist permits—for individuals from Nigeria, except under certain exemptions.
The contradiction is as dense as the Harmattan fog. We are now the world's most "Detty" celebrants, yet to Washington, we are a country with restricted travel privileges due to a foreign policy choice based on security evaluations. As we rejoice over lower fuel costs, the U.S. government is indicating a shift in approach towards countries it considers potential threats during screenings and checks.
There is an unfortunate insight in this contrast. The global community evaluates us based on criteria we ourselves have declined to apply. Although Abuja presents spreadsheets indicating declining headline inflation and fuel priced at N739 per liter—partially due to benefits from the Dangote Refinery—many Nigerians understand the real situation daily: a 50 kg sack of rice might set you back N55,000, but a Christmas goat could require more than N120,000. Economic "advancements" may appear impressive on paper, yet when a mother argues over the price of tomatoes in the marketplace, she'll confirm these improvements haven’t made their way into her home. This defines our 2025 holiday season: grain as an idea, sustenance still caught in turmoil.
It's only reasonable to acknowledge that not every instance of market inflation stems from governmental policies. A portion of it arises from within, fueled by our shared desire for more. Our society tends to raise the costs of products and groceries during holidays, taking advantage of increased demand while complaining about difficulties.
During this period of celebration, the Nigerian administration will highlight successes in maintaining safety. The recent liberation of 130 students who were taken from a Catholic institution in Minna serves as the most recent example. Although this event brings some comfort, it also acts as criticism. Such situations shouldn’t occur at all. The shift in America's visa rules reflects an undeniable reality: outside influence is proving more successful in prompting responses than local concerns alone. When the American Secretary of State mentions that choices regarding visas will take into account international relations and defense issues, it shows that dealing with crime and social instability isn't just something within a country's control anymore. This development carries tangible political and humanitarian effects.
This change in American policy indicates a wider principle. In statements highlighting the essence of present-day U.S. foreign policy, Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently mentioned that during President Trump's administration, the main focus of American diplomatic efforts has been the nation’s interests, noting that Washington perceives itself as having regained its key position in global matters. This concentration on national interest, instead of transaction-based interactions, implies that nations facing governance situations linked to security issues are now assessed from an angle extending past conventional diplomacy.
One aspect that makes this situation deeply reflective is that it highlights a subtle reality within international relations. The concept of sovereignty does not anymore protect poor management. We live in a time where border security takes precedence, and unstable domestic administration is viewed as a threat from outside. Nations unable to clearly show authority over identity frameworks, public safety, and societal stability face consequences not via penalties or lectures, but rather through limitations on movement. Passports now serve as tools for enforcing diplomatic policies.
In this regard, Washington's stance isn't an offense. It's a message. A nation unable to protect its people shouldn't anticipate smooth entry into the perks of a global environment fixated on managing risks. While I'm certainly not fond of the "orange man" leading matters in the U.S., nor do I support his approach to leadership or his intimidation tactics towards other countries, these moves still act as a reminder. They ought to push us to organize ourselves properly and grow powerful enough to challenge the threats from any country trying to intimidate us. China has already begun doing just that.
In Nigeria, the risk extends beyond limited mobility; it also involves damage to reputation. Global frameworks function based on confidence. Confidence in information. Confidence in implementation. Confidence in the genuine commitment of leadership. When this faith begins to deteriorate, getting back is both gradual and harsh. One can’t rely solely on Afrobeat to overcome issues with reliability. Countries, similar to people, are eventually evaluated according to whether their actions match real outcomes. While Detty December might temporarily hide unease for several weeks, international relations have a more enduring recollection. Currently, certain students—evident from denial letters—are starting to experience consequences when trying to pursue higher education in America. After the music stops playing, all that’s left is how a nation handles existence, legal matters, and accountability. In the absence of harmony here, repeated warnings will continue to come, without seeking our approval.
Once more, for Nigeria, this represents a time of difficult introspection. Many individuals have dedicated years to constructing "Plan B" lifestyles in cities like Houston and London, but now discover that the global community is becoming less willing to accommodate the outcomes of our shortcomings. The most perilous restriction isn’t the one issued by the White House; rather, it’s an internal limitation. An unseen barrier that divides leaders who indulge in leisure in Victoria Island from citizens trapped in situations akin to kidnapping in Papiri. While we hear about positive developments in the economy, millions continue to face everyday uncertainty, deteriorating infrastructure, and growing societal division.
A Yoruba saying reflects this idea: "Bi onigba ba ṣe pe igba ẹ, na la bá pe." In simple terms, it conveys that how a person who owns a gourd appreciates it determines how others perceive its worth. We've created a country where those in charge do not hold the populace and their safety in high regard. This perception is now evident globally.
As the fireworks illuminate the Lagos skyline this week, let us appreciate the N739 gasoline while it lasts. However, on January 1, once the festivities end and the diaspora returns to what many view as more secure locations, we'll find ourselves facing each other. These places, naturally, come with their own risks. Shots continue to ring out in U.S. cities, knifing incidents remain common in the UK, and absolutely nowhere offers total safety. The distinction is found in security: in communities where systems work effectively, offenders are quicker to be caught, controlled, and penalized compared to Nigeria.
If individuals who received scholarships to Seattle, or influential figures whose kids aspire to pursue a master's program in Florida, find themselves unable to do so, the consequences become impossible to ignore. Maybe this is exactly the Christmas season we genuinely required—a harsh realization. An experience of feeling confined within the very structure we ourselves created. Should our leaders now be incapable of sending their offspring to Maryland, they may at last feel compelled to address the issues in Minnesota.
Valued readers of this column, I hope you have a joyful Christmas and an auspicious New Year. Until we meet again next year, Cheers!
Supplied by SyndiGate Media Inc. ( Syndigate.info ).
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