August 2025
A Sacred Journey at a Profane Price
Every year, hundreds of thousands of Muslims around the world dream of making the journey to Makkah. For Nigerian Muslims, the Hajj is not just a pillar of faith; it is a cultural milestone, a fulfillment of lifelong aspiration, and often a communal celebration. Families sell land, pool resources, and sometimes go into debt to send one loved one to the Holy Land.
But in 2025, this sacred journey comes at a staggering cost: ₦8.7 million per pilgrim.
Now contrast that with the Philippines, a country where Muslims form only about six percent of the population. Filipino Muslims traveling to Makkah in 2025 will pay the equivalent of ₦3.4 million. And here’s the kicker: their journey takes almost 11 hours by air—nearly twice Nigeria’s six-hour flight time.
This raises a simple but disturbing question: Why are Nigerians paying the highest Hajj fares in the Muslim world, despite government subsidies running into tens of billions of naira?
The ₦50 Billion Shadow Over NAHCON
The National Hajj Commission of Nigeria (NAHCON) was established in 2006 with lofty promises: centralize pilgrimage management, reduce costs, and improve the welfare of Nigerian pilgrims. Nearly two decades later, it stands accused of the very opposite.
In 2025, allegations emerged that ₦50 billion had gone missing under NAHCON’s watch. The figure is not just an accounting error—it represents the shattered hopes of thousands of pilgrims. Critics allege inflated airfare contracts, overpriced accommodation deals in Saudi Arabia, and dubious handling of foreign exchange allocations.
These accusations are not new. NAHCON has long been dogged by complaints of inefficiency and corruption. What is new is the scale of the scandal—tens of billions unaccounted for, at a time when ordinary Nigerians are struggling to afford the basics of life.
The Paradox of Subsidy
What makes the situation even more scandalous is Nigeria’s subsidy paradox.
In 2024, the Federal Government spent ₦90 billion subsidizing Hajj. The logic was straightforward: reduce the burden on pilgrims. Yet in reality, fares have skyrocketed, not fallen.
So where did the subsidy go?
The answer lies in Nigeria’s notorious subsidy culture. Whether in petrol, electricity, or fertilizer, subsidies are rarely about helping the masses. Instead, they create vast pools of public money that are quickly captured by political elites and their cronies. Hajj is no different.
Airline contracts go to politically connected operators. Hotel bookings in Makkah are inflated. Dollar allocations are diverted. By the time the subsidy trickles down, little or nothing reaches the pilgrim.
Thus, what is announced as a subsidy becomes, in practice, a scam.
A Tale of Two Countries: Nigeria and the Philippines
Let us pause to consider the Philippine model.
Muslims in the Philippines are a small minority, concentrated in the southern Mindanao region. Their government does not subsidize Hajj at all. Pilgrims pay their full way. Yet their fares are less than half of Nigeria’s.
How is this possible?
Transparency. The National Commission on Muslim Filipinos (NCMF) publishes its fare breakdowns openly.
No political capture. With no subsidies to distribute, there is less room for corruption.
Market efficiency. Travel costs are negotiated competitively, with no hidden “government costs.”
The result? Filipino Muslims fly nearly 8,000 km to Riyadh for ₦3.4 million. Nigerian Muslims fly barely 3,600 km for ₦8.7 million.
The conclusion is obvious: Nigeria’s problem is not distance, logistics, or economics. It is governance.
The Human Face of a Broken System
Behind these numbers are painful human stories.
In Zamfara, a farmer sold his only two hectares of land, saving for years, only to discover that the 2025 fare had more than doubled compared to what his elder brother paid five years earlier. In Kano, a widow pooled family savings to join the pilgrimage, but was forced to withdraw when NAHCON announced the new fare.
For many, the Hajj is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. For others, it is now an impossible dream. The tragedy is not just financial; it is spiritual. A sacred duty has been turned into a privilege for the wealthy and the politically connected.
Hajj as Political Economy
Why does the Nigerian state cling so tightly to Hajj subsidies? The answer is politics.
For decades, Nigerian politicians have used Hajj as a patronage tool. Subsidized slots are allocated to loyalists. Businessmen close to power secure lucrative contracts. Politicians sponsor constituents in return for votes.
In short, Hajj has been folded into Nigeria’s broader political economy of corruption. Just as oil subsidies enrich a few while impoverishing the many, so too do Hajj subsidies.
The ₦50 billion scandal is therefore not an isolated event. It is the latest chapter in a long history of state capture, where even sacred duties become opportunities for rent-seeking.
Lessons from the Philippines
The Philippines provides a sobering lesson: sometimes, less government is better.
By refusing to subsidize, Manila avoids the rent-seeking traps that Abuja has fallen into. By ensuring transparency, it builds trust. By focusing subsidies instead on ex-combatants in Mindanao—part of a peace-building effort—it uses public funds strategically, not wastefully.
The irony is painful: a Muslim-minority country organizes Hajj more effectively than Africa’s largest Muslim nation.
What Nigeria Must Do
If Nigeria is serious about restoring dignity to Hajj, four urgent reforms are needed:
1. End blanket subsidies. They enrich the few and burden the many. If subsidies exist, they must target only the poorest pilgrims.
2. Audit NAHCON. Independent forensic audits should trace every naira. The ₦50 billion scandal must not be swept under the carpet.
3. Publish transparent costs. Let pilgrims see the real breakdown—airfare, visa, accommodation, feeding.
4. Depoliticize Hajj. Pilgrimage must stop being a political tool. Slots should not be patronage gifts; they must be earning
Conclusion: A Pilgrimage Through Fraud
Hajj is meant to be a journey of purification. It is supposed to strip away pride, wealth, and corruption, leaving the believer humble before God.
In Nigeria, however, Hajj has been corrupted. It is no longer only a spiritual journey. It is a marketplace of fraud.
If ₦90 billion in subsidies cannot reduce fares, and if ₦50 billion can vanish without accountability, then the problem is not money. It is leadership.
Until Nigeria learns that faith cannot coexist with fraud, its pilgrims will continue to pay—not only in naira, but in broken trust.
“In Nigeria today, the journey to Makkah begins with a pilgrimage through fraud.”
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Opinion