I have travelled quite a bit around this country as a story teller. Being on the road is second nature.
I am passionate about Nigeria, the land and the culture and the people.

In the past couple of years as I go round the south, I have noticed an influx of hausa young men, otherwise known as Aboki’s.

They are simply everywhere doing all sorts of jobs from Edo to Delta, to Cross River to Akwa Ibom and Rivers state.
In the south west they are plenty all over lagos; Suru lere, Lekki, Ajah, Somolu, Ikeja, Ojo, Badagry, Kosofe, Ikorodu. They are always in large numbers. Sleeping in open court yards or mosques, doing odd jobs like scavenging for waste, okada riding and shoe makers or work as daily labourers. Some also push wheelbarrows in the market, sell fruits or mend clothes.

In the deep riverine areas of Bayelsa and Rivers state, you will find them.
As a Port Harcourt boy, who can swim I have sworn, because of past experiences not to Visit Bonny island unless there is a helicopter or a big boat, the types owned by the IOC’s at the LNG complex, Finima.
The sea is rough and those small boat owners have no respect for the waves or the safety of passengers, they take all kinds of risks after drinking and smoking all sorts.

But even in Bonny where I have sworn never to visit again, these hausa boys are plentiful. Some go there to do shoemaker and other chores. You will see them jumping into the aluminium and fibreglass boats that carries about 22 people without a care in the world, and they can’t swim. But it’s part of survival for them. One day I was forced to ask one of them,
” you no dey fear ni? See the water?”
They go there having no friend or brother or sister. When night meets them, they will find a mosque to sleep in or a house corner. This life is hard for some. That is what Japa means to them.

A lot has been said about their influx all over the South. Many people say they are foot soldiers of Boko Haram sent to spy the land. People look at them most times with hate and suspicion believing they are all evil. May God forgive us all. Fear is a bad thing. I am not innocent. Perception is easy to build when everybody is saying the same thing around you, and for a fact, there are a few bad eggs amongst them who steal stuff.

I recall a lady in an estate in Ojo, who brought down a fridge from her apartment and minutes later one of those boys had stolen it.
There are also some of them who steal generators and other household stuff. Bad eggs are everywhere even in the church…lets not just go there today.

In trying to understand these Aboki’s, I have asked some of them their story and it is touching and heart breaking. I remember the hausa boy who worked as security in the office of my late friend, OZ Giwa – Amu. He spoke beautiful English and one day I asked him why he was doing the job. He told me his sad story.
Boko Haram had massacred 9 members of his family in cold blood; mother, father, sisters and brothers and burnt down their home. He was in school. He fled to lagos with no helper to start afresh.

At least, he is still fortunate, he earns a small salary and has a tiny room to sleep at night. Some have to carry heavy loads on their heads and walk long distances to earn N100. Some days they won’t have customers and have to beg for food almost in tears.

I have met Okada riders who also speak good English and are very intelligent who tell me they are university students who had to drop out because of Boko Haram. A lot is happening.
Talk about those whose farms have been taken over by bandits.

Scattered families, people who have lost contact with their families not knowing whether they are dead or alive because when evil men brandishing guns and cut lasses in the middle of the night, it was each man for himself. Some going east, others west, with just the clothes on their backs. Running for hours in darkness and through thick bushes not minding wild animals because of the savages that pursued. It’s a sad story.

These were all people with happy homes and families, settled in their daily routines and doing well in their own little ways. And at least contented with hopes for a brighter future before evil came knocking.

Some had dreams to marry, they had a maiden in sight and planned to raise a family. Some wanted to learn a trade. Some had planted and were waiting for harvest time. Already counting the profit and where to invest it….All those plans dashed, dreams suspended, unsure now of what each new day will bring.

These days, I look at them rather differently. With pity and compassion.
Each time I enter their Okada outside lagos, I try to add something to the agreed fair. When I call a shoe shine boy or the tailor to mend children clothes. I try to add a little extra. I talk to them as humans… make them feel respected.

Some of them came to clear bush for me somewhere, very small piece of land. Actually I gave the job to one of them who does security work close by. He came with two other of his brothers. I was moved. The work was fast. I watched them clearing the land, happy and sharing jokes and laughing. The money I was paying was good enough for one person, but not much for three grown men. I gave them a tuber of yam when they were leaving, they were thankful.

I look at these young men and I see my sons in them and the life they would had if trouble had not come calling uninvited into their abode and sent them fleeing for dear life.

Growing up in the 70’s in Port Harcourt, my dad was friendly with some hausa men who owned stalls along Plaza Cinema Area in Port Harcourt township. Each time we drove past, he would stop by their stalls, call out ‘Abokina’ and buy kolanuts. They will banter for a few seconds in Hausa and we will continue.

These days Hausa boys are angry when you call them Aboki, which in Hausa means, My Friend. Aboki has become a derogatory word. How did we get here sef?

I urge you all to take time to show a little love to these Abokis and those less priveledged people around you. Those menial workers who survive by the day. If God has blessed you, spread love. Bless others. I hope that’s not too much to ask, one human to another.

End of story for today. At least now you now I don’t just tell stories about the rich and famous. I write about humanity.



Al Humphrey Onyanabo( The story Teller)
Tel; +2347054674906
Email; Nigeria360online@gmail.com

See big MUMU so for your mind aboki na poor person, abokis are richer than all your generations put together they're never in poverty they're just strong and resilient with the capacity to try new things and explore different places due to their adventurous nature.An average abokis man owns what you can never have owne in your teen age. Abokis are not poor get that into your thick skull

Nigeria360tv:
I have travelled quite a bit around this country as a story teller. Being on the road is second nature.
I am passionate about Nigeria, the land and the culture and the people.

In the past couple of years as I go round the south, I have noticed an influx of hausa young men, otherwise known as Aboki’s.

They are simply everywhere doing all sorts of jobs from Edo to Delta, to Cross River to Akwa Ibom and Rivers state.
In the south west they are plenty all over lagos; Suru lere, Lekki, Ajah, Somolu, Ikeja, Ojo, Badagry, Kosofe, Ikorodu. They are always in large numbers. Sleeping in open court yards or mosques, doing odd jobs like scavenging for waste, okada riding and shoe makers or work as daily labourers. Some also push wheelbarrows in the market, sell fruits or mend clothes.

In the deep riverine areas of Bayelsa and Rivers state, you will find them.
As a Port Harcourt boy, who can swim I have sworn, because of past experiences not to Visit Bonny island unless there is a helicopter or a big boat, the types owned by the IOC’s at the LNG complex, Finima.
The sea is rough and those small boat owners have no respect for the waves or the safety of passengers, they take all kinds of risks after drinking and smoking all sorts.

But even in Bonny where I have sworn never to visit again, these hausa boys are plentiful. Some go there to do shoemaker and other chores. You will see them jumping into the aluminium and fibreglass boats that carries about 22 people without a care in the world, and they can’t swim. But it’s part of survival for them. One day I was forced to ask one of them,
” you no dey fear ni? See the water?”
They go there having no friend or brother or sister. When night meets them, they will find a mosque to sleep in or a house corner. This life is hard for some. That is what Japa means to them.

A lot has been said about their influx all over the South. Many people say they are foot soldiers of Boko Haram sent to spy the land. People look at them most times with hate and suspicion believing they are all evil. May God forgive us all. Fear is a bad thing. I am not innocent. Perception is easy to build when everybody is saying the same thing around you, and for a fact, there are a few bad eggs amongst them who steal stuff.

I recall a lady in an estate in Ojo, who brought down a fridge from her apartment and minutes later one of those boys had stolen it.
There are also some of them who steal generators and other household stuff. Bad eggs are everywhere even in the church…lets not just go there today.

In trying to understand these Aboki’s, I have asked some of them their story and it is touching and heart breaking. I remember the hausa boy who worked as security in the office of my late friend, OZ Giwa – Amu. He spoke beautiful English and one day I asked him why he was doing the job. He told me his sad story.
Boko Haram had massacred 9 members of his family in cold blood; mother, father, sisters and brothers and burnt down their home. He was in school. He fled to lagos with no helper to start afresh.

At least, he is still fortunate, he earns a small salary and has a tiny room to sleep at night. Some have to carry heavy loads on their heads and walk long distances to earn N100. Some days they won’t have customers and have to beg for food almost in tears.

I have met Okada riders who also speak good English and are very intelligent who tell me they are university students who had to drop out because of Boko Haram. A lot is happening.
Talk about those whose farms have been taken over by bandits.

Scattered families, people who have lost contact with their families not knowing whether they are dead or alive because when evil men brandishing guns and cut lasses in the middle of the night, it was each man for himself. Some going east, others west, with just the clothes on their backs. Running for hours in darkness and through thick bushes not minding wild animals because of the savages that pursued. It’s a sad story.

These were all people with happy homes and families, settled in their daily routines and doing well in their own little ways. And at least contented with hopes for a brighter future before evil came knocking.

Some had dreams to marry, they had a maiden in sight and planned to raise a family. Some wanted to learn a trade. Some had planted and were waiting for harvest time. Already counting the profit and where to invest it….All those plans dashed, dreams suspended, unsure now of what each new day will bring.

These days, I look at them rather differently. With pity and compassion.
Each time I enter their Okada outside lagos, I try to add something to the agreed fair. When I call a shoe shine boy or the tailor to mend children clothes. I try to add a little extra. I talk to them as humans… make them feel respected.

Some of them came to clear bush for me somewhere, very small piece of land. Actually I gave the job to one of them who does security work close by. He came with two other of his brothers. I was moved. The work was fast. I watched them clearing the land, happy and sharing jokes and laughing. The money I was paying was good enough for one person, but not much for three grown men. I gave them a tuber of yam when they were leaving, they were thankful.

I look at these young men and I see my sons in them and the life they would had if trouble had not come calling uninvited into their abode and sent them fleeing for dear life.

Growing up in the 70’s in Port Harcourt, my dad was friendly with some hausa men who owned stalls along Plaza Cinema Area in Port Harcourt township. Each time we drove past, he would stop by their stalls, call out ‘Abokina’ and buy kolanuts. They will banter for a few seconds in Hausa and we will continue.

These days Hausa boys are angry when you call them Aboki, which in Hausa means, My Friend. Aboki has become a derogatory word. How did we get here sef?

I urge you all to take time to show a little love to these Abokis and those less priveledged people around you. Those menial workers who survive by the day. If God has blessed you, spread love. Bless others. I hope that’s not too much to ask, one human to another.

End of story for today. At least now you now I don’t just tell stories about the rich and famous. I write about humanity.



Al Humphrey Onyanabo( The story Teller)
Tel; +2347054674906
Email; Nigeria360online@gmail.com

You forgot to mention about their poor hygiene, go to any gariki in warri.... The smell of the gariki worse pass where dem dy train pig

Most aboki's are very wealthy while some are extremely dirty.