When I was younger, I used to hate Lady Flora and Lord Frederick. Honestly, if we’re keeping it real, if not wickedness, how do you explain this creation called Nigeria? But with age, while I still side-eye them, I’ve also come to see the hidden blessing: we got a country. Messy, diverse, sometimes chaotic but a real mix of cultures and people that make us who we are.
I was also one of those kids who used to say, “What did our freedom fighters really do?” Now, I know better. Up FRK - a woman’s woman and salute to the men who fought gallantly. They didn’t promise us perfection; they gave us ownership. They said: this land, with all its flaws, is ours. And that is no small thing.
65 years later, after countless governments, crises, and far too many lives lost, here we are. Beaten, bruised, but never broken. Because in true Naija fashion, we wake up every day, brush off the dust, and keep going. Hoping. Hustling. Believing.
This edition is all about that spirit - the resilience, the grit, the stubborn hope that keeps us alive. From small wins in the economy, to our own institutions building local tech, to our eternal love affair with education (because admit it, we love book), we’ve got the gist.
So as you relax today and soak in the sweetness of freedom, let’s also keep the hustle alive so that the labors of our heroes past shall never, won’t ever, be in vain.
Aluta continua, Victoria asata incase you didn’t know, what is actually being said is ‘Aluta continua, vitória é certa.’ I was today years old when I found out, na Victoria I been tink dem dey say."
thank you.
Go itsNaija
your birthday!
Big 65
For a country blessed with tribes, tongues, and people, one thing unites us all; we love to party! From the Yoruba owambe with gele that can block the sun, to the Igbo August Meetings where even the compound walls wear lace, down to the Hausa and Fulani festivals dripping with elegance.
abeg, aint no party like a Naija party.
And today, as Naija clocks Big 65, we dey celebrate in full Naija style. Comot body joor! While parties are great on their own, what’s a party without food? Music end, DJ gets tired, decorations fade, but that plate of smoky jollof rice with one cold mineral?
Ah! the real MVP. Unfortunately for me, food prices have climbed higher than minimum wage. Inflation may have cooled slightly to 20.12%, but food refused to follow suit, rising 21.87% compared to last year. On paper, it might look like a small difference, but when you measure it against the long-term average of 14.13% (1996–2015), you’ll understand the severe pain I get when servers use small spoon to serve the jollof.
Food has become gold, ask Hilda Baci who cooked 200 bags of basmati. No wonder our forefathers said, “He who has yam and oil has everything.” These days, a single tuber of yam costs ₦10,000, while 5 litres of palm oil will set you back ₦15,000. If you can manage to put the two together on your table, you have no reason to complain you’ve already won life’s jackpot.
We don’t do that over here, we use OneBank to send the money with free charges like civilized people. Besides food, money is the other indispensable party gift;
$346 million a good “bundle” can do more than a dozen candles.
Last year the naira took a beating from exchange rate swings, but thank goodness things have steadied a bit. So when Mummy Houston sends birthday money, I don’t have to sit down and do permutations on the conversion, I only need one instruction: send more. Since we are talking about money, the US has approved a potential arms sale intended to help Nigeria tackle insurgencies.
We want peace; always! we no too like stress so we need to eliminate those who want to scatter our home.
Spray Give the Birthday Boy
Someone called 911 112
No party is complete without lights — red, blue, orange sef, we can’t celebrate in darkness. In Nigeria, though, lighting up comes with its own wahala. We rely on two main sources: the national grid (that collapses every other eke) and generators (great for noise, terrible for the environment).
For us, there is a third way, better way sef-Imperium.
Years ago, when power headaches became too much, we switched, and now we barely notice the blackouts. Meanwhile, reports say grid failures have cost the economy more than ₦50 billion in just six months. At this point, the power problem feels like a generational curse. The only true escape? Finding cheaper, sustainable solutions.
On the fuel side, we can thank Uncle Dangote for giving us a glimmer of hope. With PMS prices hinting at the good old ₦150 per litre days (yes, we can dream), the sector that used to be all volatility and distortion seems to be stabilizing. Let’s not jinx it, but maybe, just maybe, the worst is behind us.
LLNP Big Man.
This year feels better than last. Take GDP, for instance: after recalculations, we found out we’re actually 30% larger than we thought, with the economy now valued at ₦372.82 trillion. Experts even expect more growth in Q2. Yes oh, we are open for business! Speaking of business, two new tax bills — the Nigeria Tax Act 2025 and the Nigeria Tax Administration Act 2025 — are set to shake things up. Sure, there are concerns, but if the government plays its cards right, then
this 65th birthday will taste sweeter than 64.
Now, I know 65 looks like “grandpa age,” but in country years, it’s closer to a ripe, strong 30. We’ve still got plenty of room before the knees start creaking. For the economy; real estate, trade, agriculture, and telecoms are carrying the flag. Notice who’s missing? Oil. The once-spoilt child is no longer the center of the party.
T
The real move now is to keep boosting revenue from non-oil sectors and elsewhere. D
Happy New Year
Things may not be as rosy as we would love, but let’s face it, the calm of this year is far better than the chaos of 2023/2024. That alone deserves a toast. Still, anyone who has ever been to a good Naija party knows: after food comes cake.
At 65, Nigeria is that big celebrant cutting cake while everybody gathers round.
The only problem? Flour costs too much, so the cake is looking slimmer than we’d like. Our hope is simple: reduce the cost of flour, and let’s make next year’s cake a proper double-decker. Give us light for the electric candles (we are going green here), money to do more transfers, and peace so that nobody scatters the dance floor.
Because, in the end, a birthday is more than cake and music; it’s about looking forward. And if this 65-yearold celebrant can give us just a little more progress, then next year’s party won’t just be bigger; it will be sweeter. Growth with icing on top, that’s the real celebration we’re waiting for.
SEABAAS The Power of Small Fixes
What we thought was possible
“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.” – Robert F. Kennedy.
I am sure there is an African leader who said something similar to RFK but since I am in celebration mode, my mind is wandering and only an oyinbo man has entered my head. I’ve put this caveat because my celebration is about Nigerian greatness and ideally, it should be an all-round thing. Ok, to the real deal.
Ideas have always changed the world.
sometimes even the simplest can transform the world beyond the imagination of its creators. For example, when the Wright brothers lifted a fragile machine off the ground in December 1903, they weren't dreaming of a world where thousands of planes could circle the globe at incredible speed in a day; they simply wanted to fly.
Tim Berners-Lee wasn't thinking of a global marketplace or thousands of videos uploaded on a massive database or livestreaming; he just wanted to share his office work information more easily. Yet those attempts at "small fixes" became the catalyst for revolutions.
The most fantastic ideas often start as the simplest solutions to everyday problems, and the journey with SeaBaas is no different. What began as a short fix to improve routine operational processes has grown into one of the boldest, craziest endeavours in Africa. (Yes, if we do say so ourselves.)
Crazy Lives Here
"Courage is like palm oil — it makes the yam of innovation sweet."- African Proverb
One thing people should know about them is that crazy lives there, and it has never been an afterthought; it's the very fabric of who they are. Years ago, they asked: why should it take 48 hours to process a simple loan when it could be done in minutes?
That question gave birth to Specta,
and suddenly, what was once a three-month wait became a five-minute experience. When they scattered the table of public transport, it wasn't just because they wanted to do banking, no oh; that's too easy, they wanted better structure to the wonderful chaos we were experiencing with public transportation (of course, Farepay crawled so that Cowry can run).
This wasn't just about convenience or speed; it was about rewriting the very backbone of banking in Africa.
Like David, who killed the lion and the bear before facing Goliath, the earlier battles were the training ground.
So yes, craziness has never been far. But when they decided to create their own core banking solution, we knew this was a different level of craze (we still occasionally ask if they are normal).
They forged the courage needed to enter this terrain. And after many years of planning and debating, it was finally done. They released these craziness into the world. Not quietly, but with the conviction that if it ever needed to be done, they would be the ones to take the first step.
E dey work!
"When the drummer is in your backyard, you don't pay another man to beat the drum." - Igbo Proverb.
There's something about homemade that just fits. In music, yes, we all vibe to Drake or Ed Sheeran, but let the DJ play Oluwaburna or Rema, that's when the party starts. It's not that the foreign sound isn't sweet; it's just that local speaks your language, mirrors your struggle, and moves your body in ways imported rhythms can't. Technology is no different
Abi, how do you want to explain Nigeria and Africa to someone who hasn't lived here?
It was designed here, with Nigerian realities in mind. Built to handle the peculiarities of our regulators, the quirks of our customers, and the resilience our economy demands. It wasn't stitched in a foreign boardroom thousands of miles away; it was crafted from within, by people who live and breathe the same environment the system serves. And here's the thing: usability is a big deal, but so is specification.
It is why SeaBaas is made for our heat, hustle, and hiccups. It doesn't just work; it fits.
Think of it like fashion. Ready-to-wear (RTW) from abroad can bang, and Okrika will save your pocket, but nothing beats a Jet2 holiday agbada Uncle Alamu will sew the Friday just before Kola's wedding. Tailored to your exact size, stitched for your comfort, designed for your day. That's what ownership feels like: not just having clothes, but having clothes that fit you perfectly.
Na money be fine bobo
“Soup wey sweet, na money kill am”- African Proverb
Let's be clear: when we say local, it doesn't mean cheap or corner-cutting. In the past, our core banking systems were imported - powerful, yes, but heavy on the pocket and light on local relevance. Every year, dollars are wired abroad just to keep the lights on. Building SeaBaas therefore wasn't a shortcut; it was an investment. The real difference is this: money was spent today to save awesomely tomorrow.
Subscription fees here, maintenance fees there, installation charges that never seemed to end.
But it wasn't just the cost; it was the control. Since the person who owns the pipe dictates the tune, we realised our destiny wasn't entirely in our hands. In fact, it was like Thanos snapping his fingers — but instead of half of the world disappearing, we heard echoes of our fingers snapping (O chim).
SeaBaas changes that story. I sat listening to the Group CIO at Sterling reeling their spend before SeaBaas and honestly, banks dey try, God safe us.
Anyway, for the tech bros in the audience,
he mentioned that this new system is deployed on a 384-core database engine which costs approximately $250,000 annually to maintain, against $5 million on foreign licenses and $1.25 million yearly support— delivering 80% savings on purchase without sacrificing performance or scalability. In plain numbers; foreign systems over five years? Between ₦21billion and ₦34billion (depending on how the naira decides to wake up).
SeaBaas? Just ₦12.8billion. That's billions saved; the one spent was not dashed to Uncle Sam, not swallowed by the FX market, but reinvested right here at home to boost the local economy. Instead of paying for Monaco, we were paying for Eko (All na Anco).
They are now paying salaries that grow families and strengthen our economy.
More than 1,000 new jobs (during deployments to clients, they feed all the workers- I know a company that declared triple revenue during Sterling’s deployment because they were the food suppliers- up SeaBaas f’real) were created by a decision to be crazy. So yes, it's local. But it's also smart, sustainable, and sovereign.
“Person wey give up for road, na him no go see the end.”-
At naira. cutting bills; it's about rewriting what it means to own your future. And beyond the numbers, something sweeter happened. Every naira spent locally created jobs. Engineers and developers sharpened their skills, and a support structure was born. Ev invoice" that used to land in dollars is now a N worker’s payslip. Every customisation that once took months now happens at the speed of our own dev team. Every downtime call now routes to people who not only understand our systems, but also our regulators. No timezone games, no waiting for an email from halfway across the world, no cultural translation needed.
SeaBaas turned a foreign dependency into a local support structure. It didn't just reduce cost; it created jobs, built pride, and returned control to us. It took what was once an outsourced burden and transformed it into homegrown expertise. And here's the crazy part: despite more than 1,000% transaction growth, we haven't even scratched the surface of what SeaBaas can do. Like we said earlier about great ideas — they start small, then grow beyond imagination. That's why giving up is not an option. Because once you've seen what's possible, it's hard to go back to what people told you was "normal."
“Calm seas never made a skilled sailor”.
At one, the promise is simple: they will do everything possible to expand this solution across Africa.
This one is like Nigerian jollof; e go bang!
At the end of the day, Na who give up lose and giving up has never been in our DNA. Hopefully, this crazy is infectious and many people can go forth, find their small fixes and go crazy, Nigeria needs it and Africa definitely needs many and much of it!
The Promise at 1
No time to time!
check
Reality Check
Now, with all these hurdles faced in the tertiary institutions, you’d think that once you finally step foot outside the university, your wahala don end. But enter campus and reality humbles you, your uncle who promised you job too. Our parents told us back in the day, if you wore convocation gown, town dey wait for you. Big companies lined up like suitors — banks, oil firms, government jobs. You didn’t even need LinkedIn; your degree was the CV. Today? You graduate, toss the gown, and town just ignores your missed calls. The industries have moved on to AI, fintech, renewable energy, digital marketing, and all the jobs you’ve never heard of.
The result? Students leave school with theory overload but skill deficit.
And when job applications start bouncing like bad cheques, the easy conclusion is: “school na scam.”
don change. No wonder unemployment rate is soaring daily as much as giveaways. The real scam is the outdated curriculum, underfunding, and lack of industry connection. School is still the key, but the padlock has changed shape. Until we rewire education to match real-world needs internships, digital tools, AI skills, problem-solving graduates will keep carrying
Right now, students are in trenches and praying carryover will not disgrace their family name. Let’s be honest — school no be scam o. What has happened is that the connection wire between town and gown don
In a world that is changing faster than Lagos rent, one thing is certain: some jobs will simply disappear. Robots don’t strike, AI will not need health insurance, and even our guy Chatty bobo (yes, we all use it) does not need public holiday to collect your hustle. If machines can now write proposals, draft contracts, and even gist with you at midnight, you know it’s time to evolve. That’s why “school as usual” cannot cut it again. We must go above and beyond the curriculum and develop ourselves.
Because truth be told, if you are still waiting for one dusty lecture note from 1987 to carry you into the future, you are on your own. Platforms like Verticul are already trying to bridge this gap, giving students and young professionals access to real-world skills that match the jobs of today — not the ones that died with typewriters. And we need it badly!
Global reports estimate that more than 20 million jobs will be lost over the next 10 years due to automation and AI.
Now picture this: while some universities abroad are teaching students how to code self-driving cars, some of our people here are still being taught FORTRAN. At this point, all we can say is: God abeg, save us from ancient curriculum. The truth? The jobs of tomorrow will not wait for anyone. Either we learn, unlearn, and relearn… or we go just dey clap for others as they chop the future.
Take advantage today
At the end of the day, we can’t keep shouting “school na scam” when what we really mean is “school needs upgrade.” The world has moved, industries have evolved, and technology has changed the rules of the game. If we must prepare our young people for the future, we must also learn something new as a nation — invest more, teach better, and connect the classroom with the real world.
This is why initiatives like . It’s more than money; it’s a signal that education is still the most powerful investment we can make. Because when you invest in yourself, you are not just funding today — you are underwriting tomorrow. Yes there is always Project Mbappe or Project Osimhen, but nothing will ever replace the best gift we can give ourselves: the courage to learn something new.
Sterling Bank’s ₦2 billion “Beyond Education” fund matter
