Every May 1st, the global community ostensibly commemorates the triumphs of labour—the invisible scaffolding upon which civilizations ascend. Yet, in Nigeria, this day is steeped not in triumph, but in travail. While nations like the United States and Germany mark Workers’ Day with measurable gains, Nigerian labourers are fettered by systemic inequity and a neo-colonial framework that valorizes foreign incompetence while degrading indigenous brilliance.
A trenchant disparity manifests in the preferential treatment accorded to foreign expatriates, particularly those hailing from India and Eastern Europe. These individuals are ensconced in five-star hotels, chauffeured in luxury vehicles, and issued weekly stipends that eclipse the annual remuneration of a Nigerian graduate. Many of these expatriates possess nothing more than rudimentary technical diplomas, yet are garlanded as saviours. Meanwhile, Nigeria’s own technocrats—many of them eminently qualified—are subjected to penury and ignominy.
Our technical colleges, once beacons of vocational excellence, now languish in a state of infrastructural decrepitude. Paradoxically, we import expertise we already possess, driven by a deeply embedded colonial hangover that equates foreignness with proficiency. This is not globalization; this is commodified inferiority.
Permit a personal elucidation. In a telecommunications firm in Abuja where I served in a casual capacity, a critical server failure arrested operations. In a spectacle of misplaced trust, a white expatriate was flown in from Germany. For hours, he grappled with the malfunction to no avail. A young Nigerian technician, equipped with no more than an O-Level certificate, diagnosed and rectified the issue within minutes. Yet, the expatriate, basking in institutionalized bias, claimed the accolade. He was lauded. The Nigerian youth was forgotten. We—the true witnesses—knew who had triumphed. But in Nigeria, meritocracy is often the first casualty of elitist subterfuge.
Such spectacles are not mere anomalies; they are symptomatic of a broader malaise. Expatriates are routinely co-opted into contracts as inflated placeholders—justification for escalating project costs from millions to billions. The calculus is not technical; it is transactional. Corruption, lubricated by foreign complicity, becomes institutionalized under the guise of international collaboration.
Contrast this with Germany, where vocational training is rigorously structured and blue-collar labour is esteemed. Or consider the United States, where unions have carved out dignified livelihoods for workers and state policies cushion the exigencies of labour. In Nigeria, by contrast, labour is commodified, casualized, and discarded.
Religious ethics are unequivocal on this matter. The Judeo-Christian canon proclaims, “Woe unto him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness…” (Jeremiah 22:13), while the Islamic tradition mandates, “Give the worker his wages before his sweat dries.” Yet in Nigeria, the sweat has long evaporated; all that remains is dust and disillusionment.
May Day ought to symbolize dignity, not dereliction. Until Nigeria repudiates this pernicious adoration of imported mediocrity, revitalizes its decaying technical institutions, and accords its citizens the respect they so richly deserve, Workers’ Day will remain a hollow ritual. The spirit of labour will not be redeemed through parades or platitudes, but through policies anchored in equity, competence, and national self-respect.
Let the leaders be warned: a nation that belittles its own will one day be led by strangers who pretend to serve, but only exploit. May 1st, in Nigeria, should not be a requiem for lost potential. It must become a renaissance of indigenous empowerment.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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