In October 1991, a boldly headlined story appeared in TELL magazine one of Nigeria's most respected newsweeklies of that era. The headline read: "A Light in NEPA's Tunnel?" Beneath it, a subheading carried a promise that would echo through the decades: "With billions of naira in grants and loans in its kitty, the never-do-well NEPA promises to rehabilitate its plants and transformers and thus ensure steady power supply by 1992. But will it?"
NEPA the National Electric Power Authority had raised over ₦3.7 billion from the World Bank and other international financial institutions to rehabilitate its ageing plants and transformers. The goal was unambiguous: steady, reliable electricity for Nigerians by 1992. Hamzat Ibrahim, NEPA's managing director at the time, was quoted as "already realising that the seat of the chief executive of the country's most criticised corporation is hotter than he had imagined." He was fighting vandals, battling a mounting accounting crisis, and trying to pour billions in borrowed money into infrastructure that had been neglected for years.
The question the TELL journalist posed in 1991 has now been answered not by any government press release or electricity authority communiqué, but by thirty-three more years of darkness.
zeeks
1 Comments
The Accounting of Darkness
The financial toll of this failure is almost incomprehensible in its accumulation. Electricity distribution companies recorded a combined loss of ₦2.4 trillion over 2024 and 2025. The Nigerian power sector carries over ₦6 trillion in legacy debt. Gas supply to thermal plants which account for the bulk of Nigeria's generation runs at less than 43 per cent of daily requirements. Nigeria needs an estimated $34 billion to achieve universal electricity access, according to figures presented at the Nigeria Energy Conference in October 2025.
The social cost is harder to quantify but easier to feel. Hospitals running on generators. Students reading by candlelight or phone screens. Small businesses calculating their monthly diesel budget before their payroll. The TELL article of 1991 mentioned that a restaurant owner on Gbenga Street, Lagos, had "never experienced power" since arriving there and had stopped using her deep freezer. Thirty-five years later, millions of Nigerians have simply structured their lives around the expectation that the lights will go off and that no one will announce when they will return.