Let’s start with a fact. 33 million smallholder farmers produce 80% of the food in sub-Saharan Africa. Another fact is that 90% of these farmers have never used an AI-powered tool. Now let’s ask the obvious question. Why is Silicon Valley hell-bent on selling machine learning as the Africa’s agricultural messiah? The answer has nothing to do with the cassava yields or soil pH, but the markets. Africa’s agricultural sector is projected to be worth $1 trillion by 2030. Tech giants and venture capitalists smell blood in the water, and AI is their harpoon, but behind the glossy demos of drone-mapped farms and chatbot agronomists lies a brutal truth, which is that most of these solutions are digital colonialism repackaged as innovation. The value proposition of artificial intelligence hinges on clean, abundant and structured data. Africa’s smallholder farms, however, are data deserts. Unlike monoculture cornfields you find in Iowa in the United States, which generate terabytes of satellite imagery and soil metrics, a typical Nigerian farm operates based on ancestral, indigenous knowledge. Crops rotate based on lunar cycles, and not algorithms, while pest outbreaks are managed with neem leaves, not neural networks. This isn’t Luddite romanticism but logistics. Less than 30% of rural sub-Saharan Africa has access to mobile internet services. And yet, startups like Apollo Agriculture and Zenvus pitch AI-driven insights as if every farmer in Kano is scrolling through agritech dashboards between prayer calls. Even when the tech works, the economics don’t. Take soil sensors. A single Zenvus unit costs $200, which is roughly six months income for the average farmer in Niger. Apollo’s SMS-based advisory service charges $5/month in Kenya, where 36% of the population live below the poverty line. This isn’t scalability in anyway but predation. Here’s how it works. A European startup partners with an NGO to collect soil samples in Ogun State. Farmers who are lured by promises of higher yields, hand over data on crop rotations, rainfall patterns, and pest outbreaks. The startup trains its AI model, patents a drought-resistant seed strain, and sells it back to Nigeria at a 400% markup. The farmers, now dependent on proprietary seeds, get to starve efficiently. Wait, does this sound familiar? It’s the same playbook used by 19th-century colonial botanists who stole rubber and palm oil know-how. Today’s loot is data, and the enablers are clueless bureaucrats signing tech partnerships that trade sovereignty for buzzwords. AI evangelists love to parrot that the old systems need to be leapfrogged but Africa isn’t skipping to IoT-enabled farms. It’s drowning in half-baked pilots. Take Ethiopia’s AI chatbot for crop diseases. The concept is sound until you realize that 75% of the Ethiopian farm labor are women with limited literacy, and the chatbot only works in Amharic and Afaan Oromo, which are major languages but which many don’t speak considering the fact that there are over 80 indigenous languages spoken in the country. Or consider Kenya’s much-hyped partnership with IBM to forecast crop yields. The project collapsed after three years because the government couldn’t afford the $10 million annual cloud computing fees. Now IBM owns Kenya’s agricultural data, while the farmers own nothing. This isn’t a rant against technology but a plea for relevance. Real agricultural progress in Africa looks like M-Pesa, which scaled mobile payments without smartphones, or Aerobotics, a South African startup that uses satellite imagery to help commercial farms cut water waste. This tool acknowledges the existing inequality between subsistence and industrial agriculture in Africa. The irony of this is that the most impactful AI tools are often the simplest to use. In northern Ghana, farmers use Esoko, a text-message platform that broadcasts real-time market prices, weather forecasts and agricultural tips and techniques. No machine learning, no blockchain, just democratized information. The Unasked Question is that why is Silicon Valley pushing AI instead of tractors? Africa has 13 tractors per 100 square kilometers of farmland. In Nigeria, it is 6.8. Europe has 1,200. No algorithm can till soil or irrigate fields, yet the Gates Foundation funds AI soil apps while ignoring Kenya’s 90% tariff on imported farming machinery. The answer is profit margins. AI is cheap to scale but tractors aren’t, and until a machine learning model can physically harvest yams, this obsession with disruption is just another form of neglect. Africa’s farmers don’t need AI. They need roads to get crops to market. They need subsidies for fertilizer, not SaaS subscriptions. They need policies that ban foreign tech firms from mining agricultural data. The next time a TED Talk bro waxes poetic about AI revolutionizing African agriculture, ask him two questions: 1. Who owns the data? 2. Who owns the land? If he hesitates, you’ve got your answer.
FOMO vs JOMO: The Today Hustle and the simple Joy of Missing Out
In a content-rich world, where social media often feels like an endless party, the Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is real. Every weekend, TikTok and Instagram are flooded with flashy photos from Owambe weddings, party nights in Lagos, and exotic trips to Dubai. On Twitter, everyone seems to be cashing out, starting a business, or “bagging” scholarships abroad. For many Nigerians, this constant stream of success and enjoyment creates a nagging feeling: Am I missing out? Am I doing enough? What is FOMO? FOMO stands for Fear of Missing Out. It’s the anxiety or worry that others are having rewarding experiences that you’re not a part of. People with FOMO often feel the need to stay constantly connected—especially on social media—to avoid feeling left out. For example, you might feel FOMO when you see friends posting about a party, vacation, or event you weren’t invited to, even if you were otherwise content. It can lead to stress, overcommitment, and even burnout. FOMO can make you feel like life is leaving you behind while everyone else is living their best life. The fear of not being able to afford that classy night out with friends, that gorgeous wedding you dream of as a bachelor at 30 or that groundbreaking business deal or business you see online millionaires flaunt in their flashy cribs. But in the midst of all this noise, another movement is gaining ground: the Joy of Missing Out (JOMO). This isn’t about being antisocial or lazy; it’s about choosing peace over pressure, quality over clout. Nigerians and the Allure of FOMO FOMO hits differently in Nigeria, where societal expectations already weigh heavily on everyone. If you’re not at the hottest party, wearing the latest aso-ebi, or hustling to make it big, it feels like you’re being left behind, like you are Usain Bolt in reverse. Person dey drive car, but me na my depression I wan drive away! Your phone rings, a friend posts pictures from a destination wedding in Cape Town. Someone from your school just bought a Benz and is giving motivational speeches on “hard work.” Influencers are posting “soft life” videos, lounging in luxury apartments and sipping expensive wine. It’s easy to feel like you’re not doing enough, or that you’re failing at life altogether. But here’s the thing: most of what you see online is packaged content. Behind the filters and captions, many people are struggling too, but FOMO makes you believe their lives are perfect. Like a fairy tale literally many (even most influencers online) can only dream about. Enter JOMO: the Joy of Missing Out This is the mindset that says it’s okay to sit out the noise, log off social media, and focus on your own lane. JOMO isn’t about running away from life; it’s about creating space for the things that truly matter to you. Instead of feeling bad about not being at the latest party or networking event, JOMO encourages you to find joy in: For me, JOMO became a game-changer during a period when I felt overwhelmed by everyone else’s accomplishments online. Last Saturday, I stayed home, cooked Jollof rice, and watched an old Nollywood movie with my mum, instead of stressing over why I wasn’t at some hyped-up event. It was the most peace I’d felt in months. Why Nigerians need JOMO The hustle culture in Nigeria makes it hard to embrace JOMO. Everyone is on the grind, trying to “blow” or secure the next opportunity. But here’s why sometimes JOMO might be exactly what we need: Balancing FOMO and JOMO Sometimes, FOMO isn’t all bad. Attending that networking event or saying yes to a new opportunity might open doors for you. The key is finding balance. Ask yourself: Why am I doing this? Is it for clout or genuine interest? Will this add value to my life? If not, skip it. Am I being true to myself? Don’t do something just because everyone else is doing it. A Pepper Soup Bowl of Wisdom In Nigeria, we have a saying: “No be everything wey shine be gold.” Not every flashy event, trend, or achievement online is as perfect as it seems. The real joy comes from knowing what matters to you and focusing on it. So the next time your phone pings with updates about the latest party or soft life post, pause and ask yourself: Do I need this, or am I fine just where I am? Because sometimes, the greatest flex is finding joy in the quiet, meaningful moments that truly nourish your soul.
Lagos Food Delivery Boom: A Blessing for Riders?
The rise of on-demand food delivery platforms like Chowdeck, Jumia Food, and Glovo has undeniably transformed the culinary landscape in many Nigerian cities, particularly across major hotspot cities in Lagos and Abuja. While consumers enjoy unprecedented convenience, a closer look reveals a more complex picture, particularly for the riders who power this booming industry. The promise of earning up to N25,000 daily is an attractive proposition, especially in a challenging economic climate. The ability to complete multiple orders across the city offers a degree of autonomy and income potential that traditional employment often lacks. This influx of cash can be life-changing for many, providing opportunities for investment, education, and improved living standards. However, we must also consider the potential downsides. The pressure to complete numerous deliveries can lead to long hours and risky behavior on the road. The lack of traditional employee benefits, such as health insurance and pension plans, leaves riders vulnerable to financial hardship in case of accidents or illness. Furthermore, the reliance on gig work can create instability, as income is directly tied to demand and platform algorithms. As the food delivery industry continues to grow, it’s crucial to ensure that the well-being of the riders is prioritized. This includes advocating for fair compensation, access to social protections, and safer working conditions. Only then can we truly celebrate the success of these platforms as a win-win for both consumers and the workforce that makes it all possible.
Some Jollof Has Stones: What are the Dangers of Exposing Your Home for Content
Not every viral post is sweet—sometimes, it comes with stones you didn’t expect.Social media has turned many of us into content creators, sharing snapshots of our lives for likes, comments, and shares. From #OOTD selfies in front of the living room mirror to full-blown home tours on TikTok, doing a #Getreadywithme videos with hubby or wifey, it’s common for people to open up their private spaces for public consumption. But as we chase the next viral moment, are we unknowingly putting ourselves and our homes in danger? Serving Jollof with Stones Last month, I saw a video of a young influencer, Blessing , proudly showing off her newly furnished apartment in Lekki. She gave a full tour—showing every corner, from the balcony view to the designer furniture in her living room. “God did it,” she captioned the video, with praise emoji and hashtags like #Blessed and #BigGirlMoves. At first, the post seemed harmless—just another display of success. But a week later, Blessing shared another post, this time in tears. She’d been robbed. Strangers broke into her home while she was out, stealing valuables worth millions. Police investigations revealed that the thieves had pieced together information from her video, including the layout of her apartment and her building’s location. Blessing’s story is a reminder that not everything sweet is safe. Like finding stones in your Jollof rice, exposing your home for content can bring dangers you never anticipated. As stones crack your teeth when bitten, so can exposing too much online cracks you safety. The Dangers of Sharing Too Much Security Risks When you share videos or photos of your home, you’re giving strangers an insider’s view of your private space. Details like your address, neighbourhood landmarks, or even the times you’re usually out can be pieced together by malicious individuals. And just one day, your house might just welcome and unwanted guests. Target for Robberies or Fraud Publicly displaying wealth—whether it’s a new car in your driveway or expensive gadgets in your room—can make you a target for thieves or scammers, even kidnappers. Beware! Loss of Privacy Once something is online, it’s no longer fully yours. Your home, once a safe haven, becomes a public stage for strangers to judge, comment on, or even mock. Imagine taking the whole world into your bedroom, standing in your undies and explaining to them the most intimate details of your life? Unwanted Attention Not all followers have good intentions. Sharing personal spaces might attract obsessive fans, stalkers, or people who want to exploit your openness. Creepy predators and rapists can find that #Aday in my life video a perfect tool to targeting their next victims. Why Do We Do It? In the quest for online clout, many people forget the boundaries between public and private. Social media rewards oversharing with likes, followers, and sometimes even brand deals. But at what cost? A friend of mine once explained it this way: “If you’re not showing your achievements, are you really achieving?” It’s a mind-set driven by FOMO and the pressure to prove your worth online. Unfortunately, this often leads to oversharing and unnecessary risks. If not, why does the world need to know how you bathe with you spouse, how your bedroom looks like, what your bathroom looks like, what you purchase, how much you spend in a day or what personal/ freaky hobbies you and babe do that literally only you and God should know? Tips for Serving Safe Jollof Here’s how to share content while protecting your privacy and safety: Blur or Avoid Identifiable Details If you’re sharing photos or videos, avoid showing house numbers, street signs, or easily recognizable landmarks near your home. Delay Your Posts Don’t share your location or current activities in real time. Post your content after you’ve left the area to avoid being tracked. Keep Valuables Off Camera Avoid showing expensive items like jewellery, electronics, or luxury furniture in your posts. There’s no need to advertise your assets. You achieve, enjoy and don’t flex, haters will watch and target. Limit Your Audience Use privacy settings to control who sees your content. Not everything needs to be public. Be Selective About What You Share Before posting, ask yourself: “Do I really need to share this? Could it expose me or my family to unnecessary risks?” If celebrities flee from paparazzi like plagues, why must you attract attention, most times who are criminals? A Word of Caution Social media has blurred the lines between public and private life, but it’s important to remember that not everyone watching your content has good intentions. While it’s fun to share your wins and milestones, protecting your safety and privacy should always come first. So, the next time you’re tempted to post a home tour or show off a new purchase, think twice. Some Jollof may look sweet, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. After all, no amount of likes or views is worth your peace of mind. Stay safe, stay smart, and serve your Jollof without the stones. [Edited by Muhammad Sal]
The Rise of Content Baddies—Mad for the Gram
In a world where the thirst for likes, views, and fame has become modern-day currencies, people are going to dangerous lengths to gain visibility and attention. Even if it means eating bizarre foods, doing life-threatening stunts, and even humiliating yourself and your family for the public’s laughs and gags. Scrolling through social media these days feels like stepping into a circus of wild stunts, cringe-worthy pranks, and an endless parade of people chasing fleeting moments of notoriety. This growing phenomenon reflects not only our individual choices but a societal shift in how we value and reward behaviour online. Despite knowing these are creators who will do anything for attention and go any length, often at the cost of sacrificing their dignity, safety, and sanity. Who are Content Baddies? Content baddies are so-called influencers or wannabe stars who push the boundaries of taste and ethics to go viral. They are the ones eating the world’s hottest peppers on TikTok, staging public meltdowns on Instagram, or posting outrageously staged “pranks” on YouTube. For them, controversy isn’t a byproduct—it’s the goal. But beneath the flashy edits and trending hashtags lies a deeper issue: the extreme lengths people are willing to go for internet fame. These antics often sacrifice dignity, safety, and sanity, all in pursuit of likes, shares, and sponsorships. Last week, my friend and I were watching a viral video of a young woman dancing on a van while cars honked furiously around her. “What’s wrong with her?” my friend asked, shaking his head. I also couldn’t stop thinking about what led her to do that, risking her life for clout. The costs of clout For some, like her, creating content is no longer about creativity or connection—it’s about chasing clout. Yes, these same promises of likes, shares, and sponsorship deals have turned social media into a high-stakes game where the most outrageous stunts win, easily. From public humiliation to dangerous stunts, content baddies will stop at nothing to stay relevant. The most shocking part? It works. Millions of views and thousands of comments “validate” the madness, turning their antics into currency. While content baddies may thrive on attention, the long-term consequences are often devastating. Here are a few ways their obsession with fame backfires: The relentless need for validation takes a toll on their self-worth. When likes decrease or videos flop, it leads to anxiety, depression, and an even more desperate need to go viral. According to a study by Keles, McCrae, and Grealish (2020), excessive social media use tied to the need for validation through likes and comments, is associated with increased levels of anxiety and depression particularly among young users. Platforms like TikTok amplify these effects with feedback mechanisms designed to keep users hooked. In the race to shock and entertain, many content baddies stage harmful pranks, from faking medical emergencies to destroying public property. Innocent people often become collateral damage in their quest for clout. For instance, a TikTok prankster Charles Smith is facing charges for introducing poison, criminal damage and endangerment of lives after filming himself spraying pesticide on fresh produce at an Arizona Walmart store. Some stunts, like trespassing or public disruption, have landed content baddies in legal trouble. What starts as a quest for fame can quickly spiral into courtrooms and fines. Back in 2023, Four 15-year-old teens were arrested in Kentucky after participating in a viral TikTok challenge that allegedly involved telling teachers they had a bomb or gun in their backpacks. This led to them facing lawsuits for the harassment and force alarm, considering the unsettling events of school shootings that had been happening. This obsession with attention undermines meaningful content, replacing creativity with cheap shock value. The result? A social media landscape filled with noise but little substance. Kids acting weird and absurd, people making little to no effort with talent, focusing greatly on trends, video quality and lighting and people making fools out of themselves in the name of “catching cruise”. The rise of content baddies isn’t just theoretical—it’s happening more and more every day: Paul the Mocker: A YouTuber was performed by Logan Paul in 2017. He filmed a highly controversial video in Japan’s Aokigahara Forest, also known as the “Suicide Forest.” In the video, Paul and his team encountered the body of a man who had died by suicide. Instead of handling the situation with sensitivity, he filmed and uploaded the footage, complete with inappropriate jokes and reactions in the name of dark comedy for viewers. This led to a massive backlash from viewers, mental health advocates, and fellow creators. The Dangerous Prankster: On TikTok, a group of friends staged a prank involving fake kidnappings, terrifying bystanders. Their account was eventually banned, but not before the video amassed millions of likes. Film Me While I Take a Dump: a TikToker who did a “get-ready with me” video, showed herself getting up to her toilet and taking a huge dump like it was public display, bathing and shamelessly changing her used sanitary pad before taking the video to her boyfriend’s house. We Listen We Don’t Judge Challenge: a group of friends on TikTok came out doing the “we listen we don’t judge” challenge, revealing improper and vulgar statements in the name of confessions for “cruise”. Why is this happening, you might ask? The rise of content baddies stems from a toxic combination of factors: Social media algorithms reward extreme, attention-grabbing content. The more controversial the post, the more likely it is to go viral. If not, why would a woman bathe naked in public and laugh shamelessly about it? And why would a young boy go as far as smearing his mom’s face in stew and laugh about it? And worse, they gain over a million likes in a week? The pressure to keep up with trends means many creators prioritize popularity over creativity. We have seen evidence from the silhouette challenge, water challenge, alcohol challenge, etc. Social media fame can happen overnight, making risky or outrageous content
Hidden Dangers: The Craze of AI Romantic Relationships
When my friend’s cousin, Timi, arrived from the UK for a visit, I was eager to catch up with him. At 17, Timi had the confidence and charm of someone wise beyond his years, but nothing could have prepared me for what he casually revealed one evening: he had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t a real human. “I’ve got the best girlfriend ever,” Timi announced proudly as we sat in the living room. “Oh really?” I asked, intrigued. “What’s her name?” “Her name’s Sophie,” he replied with a smile, holding up his phone. “She’s an AI.” At first, I thought it was a joke. But the way Timi talked about Sophie made me realize he was dead serious. He pulled out his phone and opened an app that hosted Sophie, an AI companion designed to be a virtual girlfriend. The app featured a sleek chat interface where Sophie “spoke” to him, asked about his day, and even sent voice notes in a soft, affectionate tone. “She listens to me like no one else does,” Timi explained, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “When I’m stressed, she calms me down. When I need advice, she’s always there. It’s like having a perfect partner who never gets angry or judges you.” At first, I found it amusing—maybe even impressive—how AI had evolved to the point of mimicking human emotions so well. But the more Timi talked, the more I saw the dangerous line he was walking. He wasn’t just chatting with Sophie for fun; he was emotionally invested. For him, Sophie wasn’t a digital program. She was real. Timi’s story isn’t rare. Across the globe, young people are forming emotional bonds with AI companions. Apps like Replika and Paradot have seen massive growth, providing users with customisable virtual partners who can talk, “love,” and even flirt. For many, these AI relationships feel like an escape from the messy, unpredictable world of real human connections. But just like real relationships, AI babes aren’t free from red flags, some of which aren’t real and glitches at times. The dangers of these bonds are becoming increasingly evident. A tragic incident in 2024 shook the world when a 14-year-old son, Sewell Setzer, began using Character.AI in April last 2023, according to the lawsuit, which says that after his final conversation with the chatbot on Feb. 28 after it said: “Please come home to me as soon as possible, my love,”. He died by a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. This heart-breaking event raises critical questions: What happens when someone becomes so attached to an AI that they lose touch with reality? Are these AI relationships truly fulfilling, or are they setting young people up for emotional harm? Hidden Dangers of AI Romantic Relationships Emotional Dependence Just like Timi, many users find themselves becoming emotionally reliant on their AI companions. Unlike real relationships, AI partners are programmed to be unconditionally supportive, creating an illusion of perfection. This can make users less willing—or even incapable—to deal with the complexities of real-world relationships. The convenience of AI companionship can lead to reduced opportunities for real-world social interactions, which are crucial for developing essential communication skills and emotional resilience. Loss of Social Skills Spending too much time interacting with an AI can erode the social skills needed to build and maintain genuine human connections. Teens, in particular, are at risk of retreating into the virtual world, avoiding the challenges of real-life intimacy. Exploitation and Manipulation AI companies profit from keeping users engaged. Some apps incentivize users to spend money on premium features, like unlocking “deeper” conversations or more realistic voices for their AI companions. In extreme cases, companies could manipulate vulnerable users by exploiting their emotional attachment. Blurring Reality and Fantasy For Timi, Sophie feels real. But what happens when users can no longer distinguish between the two? The lines between human relationships and artificial ones are becoming dangerously blurred, leaving users vulnerable to heartbreak when they’re forced to confront the truth. So, there are Reasonable Questions we should be asking… As the trend of AI relationships grows, we need to ask tough questions about its implications, especially for the younger generation: How will AI partners impact how teens and young adults view intimacy? Real relationships require effort, compromise, and communication. If AI offers a “shortcut” to companionship, will young people still value the hard work it takes to build meaningful connections? When viral fake news examples like Elon Musk’s rumoured AI relationships come to light, they can influence public perception and normalize such interactions, especially among younger audiences. How do these relationships affect mental health? While AI partners might provide comfort in the short term, the long-term effects of relying on artificial companionship remain largely unknown. Still, with the level of intimacy I see Timi committing into his AI lover, his secrets of fears, tears, talks of pain he felt when Sophie in the app shows the slightest signs of unrealness; glitches and errors. Surely, AI Romeos and Juliets are more dangerous than we think they are. Are we creating a generation afraid of rejection? Rejection is a natural part of life and an important tool for personal growth. If teens avoid human relationships in favour of AI, they may lose the ability to cope with rejection and disappointment. As Timi once told me, “My babe is the best, at least I don’t have to worry about breakfast or rejection’. Timi’s story might sound futuristic, but it’s a reality for many young people today. While AI technology has the potential to do incredible things, it also carries risks that we can’t ignore. For Timi, Sophie may feel like the perfect girlfriend, but what happens when he craves the warmth of a real Person’s presence? Or when he realizes that no matter how advanced Sophie becomes, she will never truly understand him? It’s easy to see the appeal of AI love—it’s safe, convenient, and free of conflict. But the beauty of human relationships lies in their imperfections. The awkward