Lagos streets now tell a different story—one of adaptation, resilience, and quiet desperation. Once symbols of social mobility, private vehicles have become makeshift taxis as middle-class Nigerians reinvent survival in the face of deepening economic woes.
At 4:21 p.m. on a recent Thursday, Eunice Ajulo stepped out of an event centre on Lagos Island, only to be met with a baffling new sight: sleek sedans and SUVs pulling over, doors opening for paying passengers. The absence of yellow danfos and noisy tricycles puzzled her until a passerby revealed the startling truth: those luxury vehicles were now operating as informal taxis.
“I stood there waiting, but no danfo or keke came,” Ajulo recounted. “Someone finally told me, ‘Auntie, dem don turn to bus o.’ I couldn’t believe it.”
Curiosity got the best of her. She accepted a ride in a Honda Pilot to Berger from a sharply dressed man named John—an educated professional who now picks up commuters during his daily commute to offset soaring fuel costs.
John is part of a swelling category now dubbed executive hustlers—well-dressed, degree-holding professionals moonlighting as informal transporters. These individuals, who once viewed their cars as status symbols, now depend on them for daily sustenance. And they are not affiliated with platforms like Uber or Bolt; they operate off the grid, navigating popular junctions, under-bridges, and underserved routes.
This is not a trend driven by opportunity. It is driven by desperation.
Dominion Idonijie, a technician and father of four, once prided himself on owning a 2015 Toyota Corolla—a reward for years of hard work. Today, that car pays his rent, puts food on his table, and fuels his journey to work.
“At first, it was embarrassing. But I let go of that. I had to,” Idonijie said. His daily commute from Berger to the Island and back yields up to N20,000. “I used to give free rides. Now those rides pay my bills.”
Economic pressures have squeezed even the most stable households. Following the removal of fuel subsidies, petrol prices skyrocketed, cascading into every sector of Nigerian life—from food to school fees. Salaries remained static as inflation galloped.
According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria’s inflation rate rose to 24.23% by March 2025, while over 80% of the workforce is now employed in the informal sector. Transport and logistics are among the fastest-growing segments, driven not by business opportunity but necessity.
Even military personnel are not immune. A female naval officer at Oshodi has taken to ferrying passengers in her Toyota Sienna while in uniform. “I just want to replace the fuel I burn in traffic,” she said. Her fares range between N700 and N800—cheaper than many danfo rates.
For some, these side hustles are becoming structured systems. Abiodun Balogun, a banker, operates a coordinated ride-share from Satellite Town to Marina. With a dedicated WhatsApp group and punctual schedule, he collects N1,500 from each passenger—fellow professionals who choose the convenience of his ride over the chaos of public transport.
“I only do it on my route,” he clarified. “I don’t want extra stress, just a way to survive.”
Construction workers, marketing executives, and even senior corporate officers are turning to these rides as a safety net. One such executive, Basil Agwude, lamented the shift from comfort to crisis. Once unconcerned about filling his tank, he now calculates every litre.
“Fuel alone used to cost me over N150,000 a month. I had to do something,” he said. Each ride now offsets a piece of that burden.
The truth is blunt: cars are no longer just a mode of transport or a badge of success—they’ve become economic lifelines.
But experts warn against romanticising this trend. Dr. Vincent Ezeme, a political economist, describes it as “economic improvisation under duress.” He added, “This isn’t entrepreneurship. This is survival. If SUV owners are doing this, imagine those who have nothing.”
Economic forecasts offer little comfort. Dr. Lawrence Nwaodu, a development economist, cited IMF predictions that Nigeria’s inflation could hit 37% by 2026, while the World Bank foresees a worsening poverty crisis. Already, over 60% of Nigerians live in financial distress. Without intervention, that figure may climb.
Daily survival has taken on a new form—engine revs, fare negotiations, and passengers in the front seat of what was once a family car. One ride, one fare, one day at a time. For many Nigerians, this is now the cost of staying afloat in a nation where dignity and desperation share the same seat.
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