By Muhammed Sherifdeen Omeiza
The heartbreaking sight of hundreds of Nigerians queuing up at the Johannesburg airport to board emergency rescue flights back to Lagos is a sharp reminder of a broken relationship. Right now, angry crowds and organized vigilante groups like Operation Dudula are marching through major South African cities, forcibly shutting down businesses owned by foreign nationals and demanding mass deportations.
For many Nigerians, this is not just a security crisis; it is a deep emotional betrayal. Decades after fighting side-by-side for African freedom, a country that once welcomed South African freedom fighters with open arms is now watching its own citizens flee from the very people they helped liberate.
To truly understand why these attacks hurt so deeply, we must look back at history.
During the dark days of Apartheid, when the Black majority in South Africa was crushed under racist laws, Nigeria took the struggle as its own personal fight. Even though Nigeria is thousands of miles away from Southern Africa, the government declared it a “frontline state” against discrimination.
Between the 1960s and 1990s, Nigeria spent over sixty billion dollars to help end white minority rule, even refusing to sell oil to South Africa during a lucrative economic boom, which cost our nation billions more in potential revenue.The sacrifice went far beyond government statements; it was a burden carried by ordinary citizens. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Nigerian military government introduced the famous Southern Africa Relief Fund, which everyday people nicknamed the “Mandela Tax”. Civil servants automatically had a portion of their hard-earned monthly salaries deducted to fund the South African liberation movement. University students willingly skipped their lunches to donate their pocket money, while market women and school children contributed their savings to make sure Nelson Mandela’s African National Congress (ANC) had the resources, passports, and global diplomatic backing to fight on.
Sadly, this beautiful history of brotherly solidarity has been replaced by humiliation and pain. In the current wave of violence, innocent Nigerian traders have had their shops looted, their properties burned, and their human rights stripped away on the streets by angry mobs who profile them as criminals.
Hardworking citizens who moved to South Africa legally, paid taxes, and built businesses from scratch have been publicly embarrassed, dragged out of their homes, and forced to abandon everything they own just to stay alive. This treatment creates a painful paradox where the children of the Nigerians who paid the Mandela Tax are now being hunted by the children of the South Africans who benefited from it.
From a strict public policy and moral standpoint, this xenophobia is completely unjustifiable. It is true that South Africa is facing severe economic problems, with youth unemployment rates soaring past forty-five percent. However, taking out that frustration on foreign small business owners is a lazy and dangerous distraction from the real issue. Foreigners do not control the national budget, they do not manage the electricity grid, and they are not the reason local governments fail to provide clean water or housing. Blaming immigrants for deep structural poverty is an easy political scapegoat, but destroying a neighborhood grocery store will never create sustainable corporate jobs for local youths.
To fix this recurring nightmare, both countries must move away from temporary emergency flights and embrace long-term policy solutions.
First, the South African government must treat xenophobia as a serious criminal offense, rather than dismissing it as minor community frustration. Police officers must be strictly trained to protect all residents and arrest vigilante leaders who openly incite street violence against foreigners.
Second, the African Union must step in with a firm legal framework that penalizes any member nation that fails to protect the human rights and investments of other African citizens.
Finally, Nigeria must fix its own domestic economy so that its young, talented citizens do not feel forced to migrate to countries where they are treated with hostility and disrespect.
– Muhammed Sherifdeen Omeiza is a Nigerian researcher and writer whose work explores the intersection of humanitarian action, human rights, gender equality and global governance. With a keen interest in public policy, democracy, and political economy, he examines how local experiences and global decisions shape humanitarian outcomes in times of crisis. His writings draw from African and international contexts, reflecting a commitment to justice, accountability, and people-centered governance in global affairs.
Email: sherifdeenmuhammed001@gmail.com
