Nigeria and the comedy of aircraft manufacturing dreams
January 21, 2025
When I stumbled across the headline that Nigeria plans to start manufacturing aircraft, my first instinct was to check the date. Surely, I thought, April Fool’s Day had been sneakily rescheduled to January. But no, there was Minister Festus Keyamo, a man of lofty ambitions, grinning alongside this bold declaration. Nigeria manufacturing aircraft? It is like announcing plans to colonize Mars while your roof leaks during the rainy season. The aviation minister’s ambition must have been brewed in a secret lab, mixed with a heavy dose of creative storytelling. After all, where else could such a masterstroke of imagination originate? We are talking about a country where the mere sight of stable electricity is enough to make the average citizen weep tears of joy. And now, we are supposed to believe we are gearing up to build airplanes? As in, those massive flying machines that defy gravity and physics? If I were not laughing so hard, I would almost be impressed.
This is not our first rodeo with aviation pipe dreams. Remember Hadi Sirika, Keyamo’s predecessor, who swore up and down that Air Nigeria, a proudly Nigerian airline, was just around the corner? Billboards were erected, logos were unveiled, and public funds were mysteriously deployed to… well, we are still trying to figure that part out. But in the end, all we got were fancy posters and a Photoshop special of a plane that never left the runway. Now, Keyamo seems determined to outdo Sirika in the Ministry of Aviation’s long-standing tradition of delusions. Why aim for an airline, when you can aim for the skies, literally? It is almost poetic that one administration promises an airline, fails spectacularly, and the next raises the stakes to manufacturing aircraft. It is like losing a bicycle race and deciding your next challenge will be Formula 1.
Let us take a moment to unpack the sheer absurdity of this announcement. This is Nigeria, where potholes routinely swallow entire cars, and traffic lights are more decorative than functional. This is Nigeria, where the power supply flickers so unpredictably that even our generators need backup generators. And yet, we are supposed to believe that our government is ready to tackle the intricate engineering and precision required to manufacture airplanes? Perhaps these planes will be powered by our ever-reliable “I-better-pass-my-neighbor” generators, with kerosene as the backup fuel. Imagine a Made-in-Nigeria aircraft. “Horn before takeoff” stickers plastered on the sides, and “God is in control” boldly painted on the tailfin. Instead of in-flight entertainment, passengers might be handed hymnbooks and asked to join a prayer circle. After all, there is no Wi-Fi at 30,000 feet when your plane’s avionics are powered by rechargeable lanterns.
Keyamo’s announcement might have been hilarious if it were not so indicative of a deeper problem. Why do we always aim for the stars when we have barely figured out how to tie our shoelaces? We are a country where fixing basic infrastructure is an Olympic-level challenge. The roads resemble obstacle courses, the healthcare system’s best feature is its departure lounge for medical tourism, and our education sector’s crowning achievement is its export of frustrated, underpaid professors. Meanwhile, our national ambition is to dethrone Boeing and Airbus? It is like trying to build a skyscraper while the foundation is made of sand. The spoiler alert is that it is not going to end well.
If there is one thing successive Nigerian administrations have mastered, it is the art of distraction. When things get tough, throw out a grandiose idea to keep the masses entertained. Previous governments have promised everything from bullet trains to uninterrupted power supply. None of it ever materialized, of course, but it did make for great headlines and lively debates in beer parlors. Keyamo’s aircraft manufacturing dream fits neatly into this tradition. It is a new season of the same old sitcom, with the Nigerian populace as the unwitting laugh track. And just like every other time, the plot twist is inevitable. Nothing will come of it, but by the time that becomes obvious, we will be distracted by the next shiny promise.
Perhaps the saddest part of this entire spectacle is that it highlights just how much we have normalized mediocrity and deception. In a functional society, a minister making such an outlandish claim would face immediate scrutiny. Experts would demand feasibility studies, journalists would dig into the logistics, and the public would hold leaders accountable. But in Nigeria, the reaction is a collective shrug, followed perhaps by a round of jokes on the social media. We have grown so accustomed to empty promises that we no longer expect anything else. Our national coping mechanism is to laugh to keep from crying. After all, what else can you do when your leaders insist on chasing fantasies while the basics remain out of reach?
Of course, it is not entirely impossible for Nigeria to manufacture aircraft someday. We have brilliant engineers, resourceful entrepreneurs, and a wealth of untapped potential. But potential alone does not build airplanes. It takes vision, planning, investment, and most importantly, a government that prioritizes substance over showmanship. If Keyamo truly wants to revolutionize Nigeria’s aviation sector, he might start by addressing the basics. Fix the airports that currently function more like glorified bus stops. Invest in aviation schools to train the next generation of pilots and engineers. Develop a maintenance culture so that our planes stop falling apart mid-flight. In short, walk before you try to fly.
In the end, Keyamo’s aircraft manufacturing dream is unlikely to amount to more than a punchline. But perhaps that is the real tragedy of Nigeria as a nation with so much promise reduced to laughing at its own absurdity. As Nigerians, we deserve better than empty rhetoric and grandiose fantasies. We deserve leaders who are grounded in reality and committed to building a country that works for its people. Until then, we will keep laughing, because sometimes, that is all you can do. So, here is to the Made-in-Nigeria planes of the future. May they fly as high as our hopes… and land as softly as our dashed expectations.
Mohammed Dahiru Aminu (mohd.aminu@gmail.com) wrote from Arlington, TX, United States.
