Chapter 2: The System Was Never Coming to Save You

Forty Years of Almost

In 2001, President Olusegun Obasanjo launched the National Poverty Eradication Program, NAPEP,
aimed squarely at joblessness and poverty among the country's youth. It came with the full weight of
government backing, media coverage, and public hope. It did not solve the problem. A decade later,
in 2011, President Goodluck Jonathan introduced SURE-P - the Subsidy Reinvestment and
Empowerment Program promising graduate internships and a real pathway into employment, funded
partly by removing fuel subsidies that Nigerians felt directly in their pockets. It did not solve the
problem either. Unemployment kept climbing through all of it.

So in 2016, a new administration under President Muhammadu Buhari launched N-Power, built
openly on the admission that everything before it had fallen short. N-Power promised monthly
stipends, real skills training, and placement across agriculture, health, technology, and the creative
sector for hundreds of thousands of young Nigerians. For a moment, it felt different, bigger, better
funded, better marketed. Researchers who later studied N-Power's actual outcomes found
something painfully familiar: young people were treated as one uniform group, “lumped together” in
the words of one academic study, rather than as individuals with different skills, different starting
points, and different needs. The program built to fix the last program's mistakes quietly repeated
them.

Statistics tell us one side of a story. People's experiences tell us the other. Behind every government
programme are real Nigerians whose lives are affected by the promises made to them. While N-
Power looked like it created opportunities for many young people, numerous beneficiaries also
publicly shared experiences of delayed payments, uncertainty, and frustration.

Take the story of Maimuna Ahmad, reported by Daily Trust. After completing her National Youth
Service Corps, she joined N-Power because, like many young graduates, she struggled to find
employment. The programme gave her hope and meaningful work. However, that hope was tested
when she and many other beneficiaries experienced months of unpaid stipends despite carrying out
their responsibilities. She explained that beneficiaries had already worked but were still waiting for
payments that had been promised.
Source: Daily Trust, "N-Power Beneficiaries Lament Non-Payment of Stipends."

Another beneficiary, Martha Ishaku, also featured in the same Daily Trust report, described how two
months without receiving her stipend placed her under severe financial pressure. Like many
participants, she had planned her monthly expenses around the government's promised payments.
When those payments failed to arrive on time, survival itself became difficult. Source: Daily Trust,
"N-Power Beneficiaries Lament Non-Payment of Stipends."

In another documented case, Manasseh Mathias, a Batch C beneficiary from Taraba State, spoke to
the Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ). According to his account, he worked as a teacher
under the programme but went five months without receiving his stipend, leaving him owed
approximately ₦150,000. He said repeated enquiries produced little more than assurances that
officials were "working on it." Source: Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ), "For Five
Months, N-Power Fails to Pay Some Batch C Beneficiaries."

The frustration was not limited to one state. Vivian Ekize, whose experience was reported by The
Nation, publicly appealed to the Federal Government after three months without payment. She
explained that many beneficiaries depended on those stipends to support themselves and their
families, especially during the economic hardship caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. Source: The
Nation, "N-Power Beneficiaries Beg Minister Over Unpaid Stipends."

When these stories are examined together, a clear pattern begins to emerge. Many beneficiaries
appreciated the opportunity to work and gain experience. Yet, across different states and different
phases of the programme, complaints repeatedly centred on delayed stipends, poor communication,
uncertainty about the programme's future, and the financial hardship caused when promised support
did not arrive. These accounts do not, by themselves, prove that every beneficiary had the same
experience or that every aspect of the programme failed. They do, however, document a recurring
set of concerns reported by beneficiaries and covered by multiple news organizations.

TraderMoni and MarketMoni, was also two programmes introduced under the Government
Enterprise and Empowerment Programme (GEEP) during the administration of President
Muhammadu Buhari. The objective sounded simple and reasonable: provide interest-free microloans
to petty traders, market women, artisans, and small business owners who could not easily obtain
loans from commercial banks.

TraderMoni began with loans of ₦10,000, with the promise that beneficiaries who repaid could
qualify for larger amounts. MarketMoni offered larger loans to small business owners. For many
Nigerians, it sounded like a practical solution. After all, countless businesses struggle because they
lack capital. But as the programmes expanded, so did the questions.

One of the biggest controversies surrounding TraderMoni was its timing. The programme gained
national attention only a few months before Nigeria's 2019 general elections. Opposition parties, civil
society organisations, and political commentators questioned whether the programme was purely an
economic intervention or whether its rollout could influence voters. The Federal Government rejected
those allegations and maintained that TraderMoni was a legitimate social investment programme
designed to support low-income traders but we can see now that nothing good was recorded from
the scheme. So the opposition parties was right.

Regardless of where one stands in that debate, another question deserves attention. What
happened after the money was distributed? Years later, independent analysts still point to a major
challenge: there is limited publicly available long-term evidence showing how many beneficiary
businesses grew into sustainable enterprises, how many loans were successfully repaid, or how
many traders permanently escaped poverty because of the programme.

The true success of any empowerment initiative is not measured by how much money is distributed.
It is measured by how many lives are permanently transformed.

By 2020, after NAPEP, SURE-P, N-Power, and the smaller schemes layered in between
TraderMoni, MarketMoni, the various “empowerment” cash drops timed suspiciously close to
election season. Nigeria's youth unemployment rate still sat near 33 percent. One in three young
people, willing and able to work, found no real place in the economy these programs were
supposedly building. Nigeria's position on the UN's Human Development Index told the same story
from another angle: 164th out of 191 countries, despite being one of the continent's largest
economies and richest in natural and human talent.

This is not a story about one failed president or one badly written policy. This is a four-decade
pattern, spanning at least four different administrations, three different political parties' worth of
promises, and an entire generation's worth of patience. Different names. Different decades. Different
men standing at different podiums, making variations of the same promise. The result has never
changed. This is the system most of the youths is trusting their life in, depending on what they have
for you. Patterns has showed that their motive is selfish, cause if not tell me why no scheme or
initiatives transitioned to the next government. It fades off without reviews of successful
accomplishment of the scheme's aim. Imagine graduating from school with one plan: "When the
government starts another empowerment programme, I'll apply." Months become years. Years
become another election cycle. Another administration comes into power. A new programme is
announced and the old one quietly disappears. Hope rises again, applications begin again, people
queue again, and promises are made again. Then history repeats itself. This cycle has played out in
Nigeria for decades. Every administration has introduced programmes designed to reduce poverty,
create jobs, or empower young people. Names have changed from NAPEP, SURE-P, N-Power, and
many others but the expectation has remained the same: this one will finally solve the problem. Yet
the reality tells a different story.

According to the National Bureau of Statistics' 2022 Multidimensional Poverty Index, about 133
million Nigerians were living in multidimensional poverty. That means many people were deprived
not only of income but also of quality education, healthcare, decent housing, sanitation, and other
basic necessities. Pause and think about [Link] decades of poverty intervention programmes had
produced lasting national transformation, would those numbers still be this high? That question
deserves reflection not because every programme was worthless, but because the outcomes have
consistently fallen short of the expectations. Researchers have spent years trying to understand
why. One study published in the Taraba State University Journal of Social and Management
Sciences found that political patronage often influenced who benefited from some poverty reduction
programmes. In simple terms, the people who needed help most were not always the people who
received it. Other policy reviews reached another conclusion. Many programmes provided temporary
relief rather than long-term economic transformation. Beneficiaries received stipends, short-term
employment, or skills training, but when the programme ended, many returned to the same
economic reality because sustainable jobs and thriving industries had not grown at the same pace.
Investigations by the International Centre for Investigative Reporting (ICIR) also pointed to recurring
problems such as weak accountability, poor monitoring, delayed implementation, and corruption.
These challenges repeatedly reduced the impact of social intervention programmes.

Perhaps the most revealing pattern, however, is not found in one programme but across many of
[Link] one administration leaves office, its flagship programme often leaves with it. A new
government arrives, new name is introduced, new logo is printed and new committee is inaugurated.
Fresh promises are made and the cycle begins again. Whether this happens because of politics,
changing priorities, or institutional weakness, the result is often the same: programmes struggle to
achieve the continuity needed to produce lasting national change.

This is not to say that nobody benefited. Many Nigerians did, some learned valuable skills, some
started businesses, and some earned an income that helped their families. Those stories matter,
and they deserve to be acknowledged. But there is a difference between changing individual lives
and changing the economic direction of an entire nation. History suggests that Nigeria has found it
much easier to launch programmes than to build institutions that survive political transitions. That is
the lesson and lessons are valuable only if we learn from them.

The system was never going to save you not because of any one leader's personal failure, but
because the system, as it is currently built, was never designed to. Read that again, because it is the
single most important idea in this chapter: a pattern repeated across five decades and at least four
major administrations is not bad luck, and it is not a coincidence of poor leadership. A coincidence
does not repeat itself with this much consistency. What repeats this reliably is not an accident. It is
the design.

For every young Nigerian reading this book, there is an important lesson. If your future depends
entirely on a programme whose funding, administration, or continuation is outside your control, you
are placing your future in uncertain hands. History shows that government programmes can begin
with great expectations, yet beneficiaries may still face delays, uncertainty, or abrupt changes
beyond their control. That is why the strongest foundation for your future is not a temporary
programme but a permanent asset: your skills, your knowledge, your ability to solve problems, and
your capacity to create value. Those are investments that remain yours regardless of changes in
policy or administration.

As a young Nigerian, you must never build your entire future around something you cannot control.
Governments change, policies change, budgets change, ministers change, programmes change but
your skill, knowledge, character and your ability to solve problems does not. No election can cancel
competence, no political transition can take away your expertise, and no administration can repeal
your creativity. That is why the greatest investment you will ever make is not in waiting for the
system and their next temporary agenda. It is in becoming so valuable that opportunities begin to
look for you instead of you constantly looking for opportunities.

Government intervention should be seen as a bonus, not as a life plan that's if the opportunities
come. Take advantage of legitimate support but never pause your life while waiting for them. History
has already shown us what happens when an entire generation waits. The young men and women
who will shape Nigeria's future will not be those who waited for the next announcement from Abuja.
They will be those who decided that, regardless of who occupied public office, they would build
skills, createcreatecreatecreate value, solve problems, and prepare themselves for a future that no
government programme could either give or take away. That is the mindset that transforms nations
and it begins with one decision: Stop waiting. Start building.

It is tempting to believe the next program will finally be different - that the right minister, the right
president, or the right policy document will be the one to break the cycle. But look closely at how
these programs are actually built, year after year, and a more uncomfortable explanation starts to
take shape.

One academic study examining Nigeria's poverty alleviation schemes reached a blunt conclusion:
many of these programs were never truly designed to eliminate poverty at all. They were designed to
create and sustain a loyal, dependent voting base for whichever party held power at the time. The
empowerment was political currency, not economic infrastructure. The goal was not to make you
self-sufficient - a self-sufficient citizen has less need to vote out of gratitude or fear.

Look closely at how “empowerment” has often shown up in practice, and the pattern becomes
visible: bags of rice and bags of sugar handed out in the weeks before an election. Branded T-shirts
and face caps. A one-time cash transfer of a few thousand naira, announced with fanfare, gone
within days, with no skill, no asset, and no structural change left behind it. Compare that to what
genuine national empowerment has looked like elsewhere. After the Second World War, the United
States sent its young engineers and scientists abroad and brought knowledge home that helped
build entire industries. South Korea, devastated and poor in the 1950s, poured decades of sustained
investment into education and manufacturing skill, and is now home to global companies that did not
exist sixty years ago. Singapore, with no natural resources to speak of, built a developed nation
almost entirely from disciplined investment in its people. None of these were one-time cash drops.
All of them were decades of unglamorous, sustained investment in capability - the opposite of what
“empowerment” has usually meant at home.

Being born where I was gave me one of the greatest insights of my life: many systems do not truly
exist to serve the people they claim to represent. For years, I kept asking myself the same question:
Why is nobody paying attention to these young people? I saw talent. I saw intelligence. I saw people
with the skills, creativity, and determination to transform a nation, yet they were ignored. It made me
wonder whether the problem was a lack of capable people or something much deeper. That was
when I realized I could no longer think within the same matrix that had produced these outcomes.

I began to understand that the system was not naturally designed to reward talent, hard work, or the
dreams of ordinary people. Too often, it seemed driven by different incentives like protecting power,
securing influence, and serving the interests of those already inside it. If I truly wanted to contribute
to my nation, I had to start thinking beyond those limitations. So I studied history.

One lesson became clear: while governments have an important role to play, much of a nation's
progress has often been driven by individuals - people who built businesses, created technologies,
solved problems, made discoveries, and refused to wait for permission before making a difference.
Development happens when ordinary people decide to create extraordinary solutions. Imagine if
everyone simply folded their arms and waited for the government to fix everything. We would never
have enjoyed many of the innovations that shape our lives today. Artificial intelligence, countless
inventions, and life-changing businesses exist because someone chose to build instead of waiting.
That realization changed me completely.

If this is true in countries with stronger institutions, how much more important is it in a country where
so many talented people struggle to be seen? Why should I spend my life waiting for a system that
has given me little reason to believe it will suddenly begin to prioritize people like me? I looked back
over the decades. Governments came and went. Promises were made and broken. While progress
was made in some areas, many of the same challenges remained. I concluded that I could not build
my future on the hope that someone else would eventually come to rescue me. That does not mean
government does not matter. Good leadership matters immensely. Visionary leaders can create
environments where people and businesses flourish. But I also realized that waiting for the perfect
leader before acting would only delay the future I wanted to build.

So I made a decision. If I wanted to help my nation, I had to begin with what was already in my
hands. I had to develop my talent, build solutions, create value, and contribute in the places where I
had influence. Instead of asking, "When will the system change?" I started asking, "What can I build
today that improves someone's life?" That decision became the foundation of one of the most
important journeys of my life - the establishment of GIGs Impact Community.

GIGs Impact Community was born out of a simple conviction: our greatest problem is not a lack of
talented young people; it is the lack of people and platforms that help those talents become useful to
society. I had seen too many gifted individuals whose potential remained hidden because no one
was willing to guide, challenge, or believe in them. I decided that instead of complaining about the
gap, I would do my best to help bridge it.

Through my organisation, my mission became clear: to empower young people with the mindset,
knowledge, and practical skills they need to create value for themselves and for society. I wanted
them to understand that their talent is not just a gift to admire rather it is a responsibility to develop.
Every skill, every idea, and every ability has the potential to solve problems, create opportunities,
and contribute to national development when put to work.

While I was in school, I contested for President position n the Students' Union because I believed
leadership should be about service and impact, not titles. I wanted to contribute to the lives of
students around me and prove that change begins with the people who are willing to take
responsibility and most importantly to help them realise this truth before graduating in confusion and
helpless. Even though I didn't win, I didn't gave up the movement rather I was making impact in the
community I created. As a class representative throughout my stay in the university, I looked for
every opportunity to encourage my classmates. I constantly reminded them that they were more
capable than they believed and that their talents could become tools for changing their own lives and
the lives of others.

The more I accepted that no system was coming to rescue me, the more determined I became to be
a voice wherever I found myself. Whether in the classroom, among friends, in leadership positions,
or through GIGs Impact, my goal remained the same: to awaken people to the possibilities within
them. I may not have been able to change the entire nation overnight, but I could change the
environment around me. And I came to understand something powerful: when enough individuals
transform their immediate environment, the nation itself begins to change. That is the mission I have
chosen, and it is the mission that continues to drive my life today.

That is what it means, to me, to think outside the matrix.

To you reading this book, my challenge is simple: do not surrender your future by placing all your
hope in the government. Hold leaders accountable, yes. Vote wisely, yes. But never make your
dreams dependent on someone else's decisions. Build. Create. Innovate. Empower others. History
shows that nations rise not only because of what governments do, but because millions of ordinary
people decide to solve problems, create opportunities, and lift one another. If enough young people
choose that path, then the future of our nation will not be defined only by politics - it will also be
shaped by the builders.

This pattern is also generational, not just political. The habits, the priorities, and the way resources
get distributed in Nigeria were inherited from decades of leadership structures that never had to
answer directly and immediately to the young people most affected by their decisions. A structure
like that does not reform itself from the inside simply because it is causing harm. It has to be exited,
not necessarily through protest or confrontation, but through enough individuals quietly building
outside its logic that its grip on their future starts to loosen.

The Trap
The first trap is believing that the next election, the next program, or the next “good leader” will finally
be the one that works. This belief feels reasonable. It even feels responsible but hope without a
personal backup plan is exactly how a forty-year pattern quietly becomes a fifty-year pattern, then a
sixty-year pattern, while individual lives - yours, mine, the people we grew up with run out of their
most productive years waiting for a rescue that keeps missing its arrival date.
The second trap is just as dangerous, and far less discussed: believing that because the system
failed you, you are now owed something and capable of nothing without it. That belief hands the
system permanent, ongoing power over your future even after you have correctly diagnosed that it
was never going to use that power in your favor. Recognizing that the system failed you is the
beginning of clarity. Using that failure as a permanent excuse is where clarity quietly turns into a trap
of its own.

One of the greatest lies many young people have accepted is that money is the starting point -
another destroying trap. I disagree. There is a mindset I want every young person to develop
because it changed the course of my own life. I have come to believe that the greatest asset anyone
can possess is not money - it is vision. It is the confidence to believe in something that does not yet
exist and the courage to pursue it before anyone else believes in it.

Throughout my journey, up to the point of writing this book, I have discovered that the question is
rarely, "Do you have the money?" The real question is, "Do you truly believe in what you are
building?" If you believe it deeply enough, you will begin to act. You will speak about it. You will
improve it. You will attract people who share your vision. You will find opportunities that you would
never have seen if you had remained on the sidelines waiting for capital.

Money has never been the reason I started. When I contested for the position of Students' Union
President, I did not have the financial resources many people considered necessary. Yet I stepped
forward anyway. As I committed myself to the vision, support came. Sponsors appeared. People
believed in what I was trying to accomplish because they first saw that I believed in it myself. That
experience reinforced a principle I still live by today: resources often follow commitment. The same
principle guides the work we do through GIGs Impact. Our vision is far bigger than our current
resources. We are building a movement to help young people discover their talents, develop
practical skills, and become creators of value in society. We have not achieved everything we dream
of yet, but we refuse to let that stop us. Instead, we ask a different question: What can we do with
what we have today? If all we can do today is gather a small group of young people, teach them,
mentor them, and help them grow, then we do that faithfully. We build a track record. We create
results. We prove that our vision produces impact before expecting the world to invest in [Link] is
how meaningful things are built.

Too many young people bury brilliant ideas because they convince themselves that money is the
missing piece. In reality, what is often missing is the willingness to begin. Investors, sponsors,
partners, and supporters rarely invest in ideas alone. They invest in people who have demonstrated
commitment. They want to see what you have done with the little already in your hands. They want
evidence that if they give you more, you will multiply it. So stop waiting for perfect conditions.

Break your vision into smaller steps. Start with what you have. Build something, however small.
Create a result. Learn. Improve. Then build again. To every young man and every young woman
reading this, I want you to hear me clearly: do not make money your excuse.

Believe in your vision so deeply that your actions begin to convince others. Talk about it. Refine it.
Share it. Build a record of consistent effort. Spend less time waiting for someone to rescue you and
more time becoming someone worth investing in. I am not writing this as a theory. I am writing it
from experience. Many of the things I have accomplished began long before I had the money to
accomplish them. I started with conviction, worked with what I had, and along the way, sponsors,
helpers, mentors, and opportunities appeared. The money was not the beginning. The vision was.

And if you have a vision that can solve problems, create value, and improve lives, then begin today.
Your greatest limitation is not the size of your bank account. It is whether you are willing to take the
first step with what is already in your hands.

What To Do With This

• Stop budgeting your future around a government program. If a scheme arrives

• Study one country, or one person, who built something real with little to no state
support. Notice exactly what they used instead - skill, persistence, visibility,
community - because that list is your real starting toolkit.

• Pick one skill you can begin building this month with what you already own - your
phone, your data bundle, your hands, your existing knowledge. Not someday.
This month.
 • Build or join a small peer network outside the system - three or four people who
are serious about building rather than waiting. Momentum multiplies fastest in
small, committed groups, not in crowds waiting for the same announcement.

• Set a personal review date six months from today. Ask yourself honestly: in that
time, did I wait, or did I build? Do not let the answer be vague, write down
something measurable you can check yourself against.

• Separate civic participation from personal planning. You can still vote, still hold
leaders accountable, still hope for better governance while building your life as
though no one is coming to save you. Both things are true at once, and only one
of them is in your control.

Reflection
Where in your own life are you still,quietly, maybe without fully admitting it to yourself waiting for a
system, a program, or a leader to act before you allow yourself to move?

And if you're honest: if no help ever comes, what is the smallest real step you could still take this
week, with exactly what is already in your hands?

Quote
A pattern repeated for forty years is not bad luck. It is the design. Stop waiting for a rescue
that was never planned.