Monday Lines 2: Nigerian beggars in Ghana

By Lasisi Olagunju

(Published in the Nigerian Tribune on Monday, 2 June, 2025).

If you think there are too many beggars on your street, please take heart and brace up. A trending video is showing a massive throng of Nigerian children and women being deported from Ghana where they were found doing street begging. They are said to be part of thousands of West Africans on Ghanaian streets. About 10,000 are reported to be involved. Is there anything too shameful that we can’t and won’t export?

The person who ran the commentary spoke in Hausa, a hint at where the beggars hailed from. I took a few minutes to read the video. I do not speak and do not understand Hausa, but I can read the face of sorrow when I see one. I saw exactly that in the worn-out faces and the sunken eyes of girls and women in that video. For them, living is obviously a punishment.

“History tells us that it takes, and that it will take, generations of striving, organizing, and mobilizing to fight for the kind of world that we want to see.” American professor of History, Elizabeth Hinton, makes that submission in a 2016 piece. It looks like what we see today in begging as a way of life is generational and a proof that Nigeria failed its people yesterday and today, and will likely do so tomorrow. It will, and it is not a curse. It will happen unless we do what Hinton suggests: striving, organizing, and mobilizing. But we will not. The elite need the beggars for their politics.

A Ghanaian academic visited Zaria some fifty years ago and wrote of his shock at the swarm of child beggars on the street. His report, published in 1984, starts with a paragraph that reads as if it speaks of today: “The stranger from another cultural milieu visiting Zaria for the first time may, depending on his historical experience, wonder or even be shocked at the sight of so many little children going about begging in the town. But as time passes, and with increasing familiarity with the sight, the critical thoughts which followed the initial shock are likely to give way to a gradual acceptance of the unusual experience as a normal condition.” How can street begging by kids be normal? Has anything changed since that report was published? Will anything change no matter what anyone does?

That study of the begging population in that city throws up the following statistics: “Nearly half (45.5 %>) of the sample of beggars indicated that their parents were not beggars; for quite a sizable proportion (39.7 %>) both parents could be shown to be themselves beggars like their children. In a few cases, only fathers (6.2 %) or only mothers (2.8 %) of beggars were reported as being beggars as well. In much the same way, in 35.2 % of the cases, brothers and sisters of beggars were reported to be also beggars…” Those beggars of the 1970s and 1980s, where are they today? Could they be the parents or grandparents of today’s beggars, including those traumatised kids deported from Ghana?

Nigerian children of two years and above doing begging parade on our streets question our existence as a 21st century country. Their situation should elicit gasps of discomfort – and disgust.

During my primary school years, we, Yoruba school children (of Almajiri age) gladly sang against begging and poverty: Olórun máà jé á tooro je, Olórun máà jé a gbà’wìn èbà (May God not let us beg to eat; May God not let us buy èbà on credit). It was a prayer fervently said. The Yorùbá also say Orí mi kò’sé, Ẹlédàá mi kò’yà (My head rejects poverty; my Creator rejects hardship). It is a philosophy of life; a covenant with the Creator. In Lagos, Ibadan and all other places where street begging is a menace, the people breathe in and breathe out in utter rejection of what they see. But they can’t do what Ghana did. Nigeria is one nation, one destiny.

‘Child Beggars in Nigeria’ is the title of a July 2022 report by Germany’s international broadcaster, Deutsche Welle (DW). The report starts with the personal tragedy of an 11-year old Amina who was forced to beg on the streets of Katsina because of insecurity in her village. It then dwells extensively into “how northern Nigeria’s economic crisis is bringing more children to large cities such as Lagos, where they end up asking for money on the streets.”

In February 2022, the newspaper I edit carried the story of some women and children from the North who migrated to Ibadan to make a living for themselves and their families through begging. Nafisa Shehu and her mother were among the beggars found on the Ojoo Bridge in Ibadan. Nafisa sat among other begging children and from that point calmly told the reporter that her dream was to become a medical doctor. Nafisa’s story was published, it went viral, and a prominent private school in Ibadan contacted the reporter and offered Nafisa a scholarship from primary to medical school.

If you thought her dream of becoming a medical doctor was becoming real, you missed it. It never happened. A meeting was arranged between the school and Nafisa’s mother, with the reporter present in Moniya, Ibadan. Some meddlesome interlopers who called themselves local Hausa leaders made sure they were present also. It was a negotiation to help Nafisa; proceedings appeared very positive. But the tragedy started from that point: Nafisa and her mother disappeared from the street shortly after the meeting. The only condition the school gave Nafisa was that she would be a full-boarding student. That was a huge problem for her mother who wanted her to beg while in school.

We still thought we could help. I told the reporter not to give up on that girl. And she did not. After several follow-ups, the reporter was told that Nafisa and her mother had travelled back to Katsina State where they came from. Fourteen-year-old Nafisa was being prepared to be married off. She must be a mother somewhere now, and possibly begging to eat – like her mother.

People will always need help (we all need help), but street begging is a blight that must be forced to defect from this land like opposition politicians.

From the Nafisa example, you can see that the shame of deportation from Ghana and harassment elsewhere won’t prevent the begging population from growing. There are rivers feeding the dam; the dam feeds the flood. Until we tackle the source of the disaster, it will continue to question the humanity of Nigeria, particularly northern Nigeria and its leaders.