…Vandalism, corruption, neglect deepen power poverty across the nation
…Kaduna records 80 vandalised transformers monthly as citizens fund repairs
By Austine Agbo Emmanuel, Kaduna
A decade after the widely promoted privatisation of Nigeria’s power sector, millions of households and businesses still endure unreliable electricity supply, raising serious questions about the effectiveness of the reform.
While the familiar hum of diesel generators echoes across neighbourhoods and commercial areas, a quiet shift is underway among the wealthy. Across upscale estates in Abuja, Lagos, and Port Harcourt, solar panels now gleam atop rooftops, serving as quiet emblems of economic disparity. For Nigeria’s privileged class, energy independence is no longer aspirational , it is already a reality. For the less privileged, constant power outages remain a way of life.
The pledges made in 2013 for improved service delivery, expanded infrastructure, and robust private-sector investment remain largely unfulfilled. Electricity generation still hovers around 7,000 megawatts, of which only about 5,000 megawatts reach consumers due to the limitations of ageing transmission and distribution infrastructure. This figure is worryingly inadequate for a population exceeding 200 million , less than the power consumption of a major European airport.
Perhaps the clearest indictment of the sector’s failings comes not from frustrated citizens alone, but from voices within government. During a recent Senate session, Senator Adams Oshiomhole described how he had to purchase and install a transformer from personal funds. “Afterward,” he said, “it was taken over as AEDC’s asset, and yet we still pay exorbitant monthly bills.”
Senate President Godswill Akpabio echoed these concerns, criticising how privatisation enabled private entities to inherit public assets without delivering corresponding improvements. These are not passing frustrations; they reflect a broader disillusionment with a system that was meant to transform lives but has instead deepened inequality.
The spectacle of lawmakers voicing powerlessness over policies they once endorsed is deeply troubling. It prompts the question: if national leaders cannot enforce accountability or ensure reform, what hope exists for the average citizen who continues to receive inflated electricity bills for service not rendered?
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has acknowledged that over 90 million Nigerians still lack access to electricity. Since 2013, grid capacity has barely nudged forward , from around 3,000 to just over 4,000 megawatts , far below the 40,000MW target outlined in the original roadmap. In response, the Tinubu administration recently introduced a $122.2 billion National Integrated Electricity Policy (NIEP) intended to overhaul the power sector by 2045.
Despite these efforts, public confidence in reform remains low. In many urban areas , from Kaduna and Sokoto to parts of the South East, residents pool funds to buy transformers, cables, and poles, only for the infrastructure to be claimed by electricity distribution companies as their own. Citizens are forced to pay twice: first for the infrastructure and again through monthly tariffs.
A deeper and more immediate challenge is the rise in vandalism, which has become a major source of disruption. In Kaduna metropolis, the theft and destruction of transformers and cables have left entire communities in darkness. Residents are reportedly crowd-funding between N800,000 and N1 million to replace stolen infrastructure. Kaduna Electric’s General Manager, Dr Umar Hashidu, noted that up to 80 transformers are vandalised each month, with each unit costing between N2 million and N3 million to replace.
For those who cannot afford such costs, life in darkness persists. For those who can, solar technology offers an exit , albeit one that further widens the gap between Nigeria’s energy haves and have-nots. While poor communities battle outages, the wealthy install high-capacity inverters and solar batteries, making unreliable grid power an issue of the past.
In some neighbourhoods, residents have expressed suspicions of internal complicity, alleging that power company staff might be enabling the thefts. “It’s difficult to believe ordinary criminals know how to dismantle a transformer,” said a resident in Narayi. In Barnawa, another reported weeks without power, claiming officials only act once residents agree to fund repairs.
Kaduna Electric maintains there is no formal evidence of insider sabotage but concedes that the financial burden is immense. The company has encouraged communities to take greater responsibility in protecting public infrastructure, even as rising security costs are reflected in consumer tariffs.
The reality is stark: those who pay for infrastructure repairs are punished when vandalism occurs. Those who cannot afford repairs remain disconnected. Meanwhile, solar-powered homes shine bright, underscoring an uncomfortable truth , in Nigeria, access to electricity is becoming a function of wealth, not policy.
There are signs of hope. The new Electricity Act empowers state governments to generate and distribute power independently. If effectively implemented, this may decentralise solutions and open pathways to local innovation. But questions remain over whether legal authority will translate into practical outcomes.
Ultimately, the power sector’s dysfunction is not just technical , it is political. Until the determination to enforce reform matches the scale of the problem, Nigeria’s electricity crisis will persist, devouring public funds while leaving millions in darkness.
Electricity is not a luxury. It is a basic national necessity. And addressing the system’s failures requires not just ambition, but urgency, sincerity, and the courage to prioritise people over vested interests. Without this, the nation risks being permanently divided between those who live on the grid and those left off it, not by choice, but by circumstance.