Decembers in Nigeria are marked with homecoming and, spending time with family and loved ones.
It’s the season of packed bags, shared locations, “I’ve arrived” texts, and that deep sigh of relief when you finally step into your parents’ compound. Christmas in Nigeria has always been loud, warm, bustling, and full of movement. We travel to celebrate. We travel to reconnect. We travel because home is calling. We travel because the holidays are better with family.
But this year, movement itself felt like a risk. Many Nigerians were forced to rethink their trip, find alternative means of travelling or brave the roads.
In recent months, news of banditry and kidnappings have become impossible to ignore. They are no longer distant headlines or “somewhere far away.” They have become roads we recognize, routes we’ve taken, towns we pass through without thinking twice, until now. Fear seeped into our travel plans.
People avoided road trips. Long-distance buses felt less safe. Night travel became unthinkable. The common advice was simple: fly if you can. And so, airports became congested almost overnight: crowded terminals, delayed flights, skyrocketing ticket prices. For a moment, it felt like air travel was the only safe option.
But Nigeria is not a country where flying is always possible.
There are towns without airports. Villages that can only be reached by road. Families who cannot afford flight tickets even when they’re available. And so, despite the fear, people still had to travel by road because there was no other option.
That reality hit hard on the Abuja–Lokoja Expressway.
What should have been a straightforward journey turned into days of exhaustion and uncertainty, especially when approaching Lokoja from Abuja. Traffic stretched endlessly. Vehicles barely moved. For hours. Then days. People slept in their cars. Some slept outside. Others had to step down and reroute through the bush just to keep moving. Strangers shared food, water, updates, and prayers. The fear of bandits was briefly forgotten as braving the standstill was more important.
I travelled by the same road.
And even though nothing happened to me personally, the fear was present in every delay, every sudden stop, every unfamiliar view or movement ahead. I kept mumbling prayers under my breath and couldn’t even nap a blink. I dressed as efficiently as possible to brave the wilderness in case anything happened. The intrusive thoughts kept running through my head and I kept asking myself why something as simple as going home had become this complicated.
That’s the cruel irony of this season.
Christmas is meant to bring joy, but fear has found its way into our celebrations. It has changed how we plan, how we pack, how we pray. It has made us hyper-aware of our surroundings and painfully aware of how fragile safety can be.
Still, Nigerians are resilient people. Even in fear, we move. Even in uncertainty, we show up for our families.
As the festive season continues, safety must be intentional—not just hopeful. If you’re traveling this period:
1. Travel during the day whenever possible.
2. Share your route and location with trusted people.
3. Avoid unnecessary stops and shortcuts, no matter how tempting.
4. Keep emergency contacts easily accessible.
5. Trust your instincts. If something feels off, it probably is.
And perhaps most importantly, extend kindness. On the road, we are all navigating the same anxiety. A small gesture — a check-in, a bottle of water, a shared update — can go a long way.
Despite everything, I still believe in the spirit of this season. I believe in safe arrivals. I believe in reunions that end in laughter instead of fear. I believe that one day, traveling home in December won’t feel like an act of courage.
Until then, we move carefully. We move together. And we hold on to hope.
To everyone traveling this season—by road, by air, by any means necessary—I wish you safety, peace, and grace on your journey.
And above all, a very Merry Christmas. 
