By Babafemi Ojudu
For the past two weeks, I have been inundated with stories of empty hotels, deserted lounges, quiet supermarkets, and struggling businesses across Ekiti State, particularly in Ado Ekiti, the state capital. Could this be real, has been the question I asked myself.
The explanation was simple, everyone said. The EFCC has finally come to town.
Not merely on occasional raids, but with a permanent command presence. The young men popularly known as Yahoo boys, together with their numerous associates and hangers-on, have reportedly fled in large numbers. Their fear of the EFCC, it would seem, has become the beginning of wisdom.
The reaction has been remarkable. In Ikere Ekiti, some parents and sympathisers reportedly staged a protest, directing their anger at both the traditional ruler and the Chairman of the EFCC. The monarch, it was said, had openly condemned the criminal activities that had become commonplace in the town, thereby earning the hostility of those who had come to depend on them.
This is not simply a case of a new sheriff in town. It is a case of many sheriffs.
The Chairman of the EFCC, Ola Olukoyede, is himself an Ekiti indigene. Perhaps disturbed by the growing notoriety of his home state as a haven for internet fraudsters, especially his hometown of Ikere, he has established a formidable operational base in the state. Scores of operatives now conduct dawn raids, storming hideouts and leaving with suspects, luxury cars, expensive phones, and other proceeds of crime.
The consequences have been immediate.
There has been what many describe as a mass exodus. Those leaving Ekiti are said to be relocating to Akure, Osogbo, Ibadan, Lagos, and other cities where they believe they can operate with less scrutiny.
Ironically, what Ekiti has lost appears to have become another city’s gain.
Across Ado Ekiti, traders complain of declining sales. Hotel owners lament empty rooms. Lounge operators stare at vacant tables. Beer parlour owners grumble. Landlords complain of abandoned apartments. Used car dealers have seen demand collapse. Mechanics who serviced fleets of exotic vehicles now wait endlessly for customers. Even the roads seem quieter. There are fewer reckless convoys and, people joke, fewer expensive cars crashing into solar-powered streetlights.
Yesterday, I decided to see things for myself.
The stories were true.
I walked into the restaurant of a prominent hotel overlooking its swimming pool. I ordered dinner and sat there for almost an hour.
I was the only customer.
Two years ago, finding an empty seat in that same restaurant would have been difficult. As I ate, in those years past, a young man walked in carrying an expensive bottle of Hennessy.
“This is for you, Baba,” he said. I had never met him before.
Curious, I later asked about the price of the bottle. I was told it cost close to ₦350,000. Just like that. Such is their wealth. Such is the generosity they displayed. We are told , in a culture where people bargain before paying for goods, you just call the price and they whip out their credit card- Money, for them , na water.
I took time too to visit one of the city’s popular lounges. It was almost deserted. Hotels that once overflowed with guests now looked abandoned. Parking lots resembled football fields during the off-season.
It suddenly dawned on me that an uncomfortable truth stared us in the face.
A significant portion of the urban economy had become dependent on the spending power of young men and women living off internet fraud.
That should frighten every one of us.
How did we get here?
Growing up, our dreams were remarkably similar. We wanted to become doctors, lawyers, engineers, professors, teachers, accountants, architects. Success was measured by knowledge, hard work, and professional accomplishment.
Today, for far too many young people, the aspiration is different.
They want to “do Yahoo.”
Some begin as early as thirteen or fourteen. By seventeen, some have built houses for their parents, bought luxury cars, and become the envy of entire neighbourhoods.
University admission is often obtained not for education but for social status. Lecturers are bribed for grades never earned. Campuses increasingly celebrate wealth without asking where it came from. I once saw a student driving a Mercedes Maybach whose price would humble many successful entrepreneurs who had laboured honestly for decades.
What message does that send to other students? A higher institution here had to ban bringing of cars by students to school. They soon created a massive garage outside of the campus complete with eateries and car wash.
What incentive remains for diligence, scholarship, or integrity?
This is a tragic stain for Nigerian cities as it is for Ekiti, a state once proudly celebrated as Nigeria’s fountain of knowledge.
But before we heap all the blame on these young people, we must also confront our collective failure.
Role models have become fewer. Honest pathways to prosperity have narrowed. Graduate unemployment remains frightening. Many young people see little connection between education and opportunity. “ Who school help”, is their mantra.
In too many homes, parents who once would have rebuked criminality now celebrate unexplained wealth. Some even introduce their children to “successful” fraudsters to learn the trade. Laptops, multiple smartphones, and internet subscriptions become the new apprenticeship tools.
The moral compass has shifted.
I have employed young domestic assistants who repeatedly failed to wake up in the morning for simple household duties. I later discovered why. They spent the entire night on their phones, trawling dating sites and social media platforms in search of foreign victims to deceive.
And when ordinary internet fraud no longer produces enough money, darker stories emerge.
One hears disturbing tales of “Yahoo Plus”—ritual practices, organ trafficking, body parts, and other forms of occult criminality allegedly intended to guarantee success.
Whether every story is true is almost beside the point.
The fact that such stories are now widely believed tells us how deeply society has descended into moral darkness.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is not the money stolen from unsuspecting victims across the world.
It is the destruction of an entire generation’s understanding of work, honour, and success.
A young person who learns at fifteen that deception pays better than diligence may never discover the dignity of honest labour. A society that applauds sudden wealth without questioning its source slowly loses its moral immune system.
Crime ceases to be an aberration.
It becomes a career path.
And therein lies the greatest danger.
These boys and girls will not remain boys and girls forever. They will become our business leaders, our bankers, our civil servants, our judges, our lawmakers, our commissioners, our governors, and perhaps even our presidents.
If fraud becomes the classroom in which today’s youth are trained, fraud will inevitably become the language through which tomorrow’s society is governed.
Indeed, many of those who perfected various forms of financial crime , drug trafficking , insurance frauds decades ago have since returned home respectable, influential, and politically connected. Some now occupy positions of authority. They shape public policy, influence elections, make laws in our hallowed chambers , become kings and acquire chieftaincy titles and determine the future of others.
Should we then be surprised by the corruption that continues to cripple our nation?
A society ultimately becomes what it rewards.
If we reward learning, we produce scholars.
If we reward enterprise, we produce innovators.
If we reward integrity, we produce statesmen.
But if we reward criminality, we should not be shocked when criminals eventually govern us.
The empty hotels and deserted lounges may represent temporary economic pain. The emptiness of our moral landscape, however, is a far greater tragedy.
That is the real crisis before us.
And unless we restore the dignity of honest work, create genuine opportunities for our young people, and once again make character more admirable than sudden wealth, tomorrow promises not a better society, but a more dangerous one.
Civilisations do not collapse only because their economies fail. They collapse when they lose the ability to distinguish honour from disgrace, industry from theft, and success from plunder. Once crime becomes admirable and honest labour becomes laughable, the decay has already begun. Empty hotels can be filled again. A generation emptied of values is far more difficult to restore.