Nearly 40 years ago in London, I was invited to dinner by a Nigerian woman I knew in Lagos.
She had described the place in general terms, but I arrived at an upscale home with some serious luxury. She was kind enough to show me around, and following a stylish dinner, she described how she had acquired the place, mentioning headline Nigerian names.
I had no reason to doubt her: some of them called during the evening. I declined her offer to share her conversations with them.
It was my personal introduction to the scale of Nigerian property in the English capital, as she described who owned what or lived where.
While my visits to England at the time were work-related and I had little time to socialise, I did meet several teenage Nigerian students whose parents were glad to send them abroad for education.
They patrolled the streets of London in exotic cars, and I thought it was ironic that, in isolation away from Nigeria, the young ladies were often being manipulated by their fathers’ friends.
In the decades that followed, I read stories of politically exposed Nigerians, particularly state governors, for whom the UK was the first address in money laundering.
On a few occasions, I have alluded to that phenomenon in this column. They acquired expensive homes, cars and even gold phones. One, Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, fled London disguised as a woman. Another, James Ibori, was tried and jailed.
Keep in mind that there have been about 185 governors since May 1999, and that London is nearly always their first port of call.
It is humbling to reflect on what percentage of this number has, in the past 26 years, sunk Nigerian wealth into the soil of England, with considerable swathes lost to middlemen and smooth women.
Remember: in 2006, the then-Minister of State for Finance, Nenadi Usman, criticised governors, saying that they disappeared abroad just days after receiving state allocations and after visiting Bureau De Change operators.
In 2007, a famous Human Rights Watch report, “Chop Fine,” described the case of Rivers State in grim detail.
The problem is that it is not always governors, as demonstrated by the story, “Abuja on Thames,” which appeared in the British monthly, Private Eye, in March 2019. That month, I commented on that story, which involved the astonishing wealth in that country of Paul Ogwuma, a former governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria.
The full Nigerian picture of capital flight, elite consumption, and political patronage was on display when the Panama Papers in 2016 and the Pandora Papers in 2021, two massive international media investigations in which our Premium Times participated, uncovered how the world’s rich and powerful deploy offshore mechanisms to hide their possessions.
As always happens, no Nigerian lost a kobo, let alone a heartbeat, as a result of those investigations, because in Nigeria, crime and hypocrisy quite literally pay.
And then in 2024, a list appeared of 58 deceased Nigerians with unclaimed assets in the UK, as part of a daily-updated “Bona Vacantia” (BV) list, meaning that having remained unclaimed, they are now considered the property of the Crown.
The Nigerian government does not inform Nigerians about the BV list or the claims process, so those properties are probably lost forever.
Remember also, the case of Nigerian “government” property on the verge of forfeiture in the UK a few years ago. In New York and Maryland, in the US, Nigerian governors and diplomats have left behind a long trail of property issues. In 2012, Alamieyeseigha forfeited $401,931 in traceable assets to the US government when President Jonathan’s government failed to claim them.
And so, the rich continue to flourish, and in January 2026, Tax Policy Associates of the UK published the extensive investigation, ‘Who secretly owns Britain? The hidden offshore owners of £460bn of UK property.’
A report in The Londoner, based on that investigation, peeled back the layers to link the late Herbert Wigwe, the former chief executive of Access Holdings, to about 106 properties. That placed him at No. 7 on a list of “The overseas power players in London’s property market,” with each property registered under shell companies outside the country, leaving none of them directly traceable to him.
While some of these practices are legal, especially on the part of private businessmen, the problem is that Nigeria has, for decades, been burdened by an army of much smaller ants eating away at her. Most of them are pillars of society, either claiming sainthood or praying for it, while the people from whom they amassed their wealth starve to death.
But there is another side: in Nigeria, the Tax Policy Associates investigation, like the arrests of Dariye and Alamieyeseigha and the trial of Ibori, would have been impossible.
“Abuja on Thames” would never have been investigated or published. Not the Pandora Papers. Not the Panama Papers.
Because we are traders. We are either buying or selling. When the aroma of money or power is present, some would sell their very souls. It is why we are where we are.
The system, of course, is in many ways pre-rigged. On real estate matters, we operate a fragmented administrative system with multiple overlapping authorities, incomplete digitisation, and overwhelming opacity. The FCT and state capitals are stories of greed.
This is because the Land Use Act vests all land in each state in the governor (and the President for the FCT). This means that, technically, no one “owns” land outright; one only holds a Certificate of Occupancy. That creates enormous scope for discretionary allocation and corruption, since governors and the FCT minister can grant or revoke rights, and often do.
This is why an FCT minister is a king. He can allocate land to whomever he pleases:
Relatives of the First Lady were thrice removed.
His wife.
Fourth cousins.
Underage children.
Governors, again.
EFCC officials.
ICPC officials.
Code of Conduct Bureau officials.
Girlfriends and their friends.
Supreme Court judges.
Court of Appeal judges.
INEC officials.
Senators.
Top police officers.
Among others, remember the FCT land scam of 2004; the Ministerial allegations involving the current FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike; and the 57 multi-billion-naira properties linked to former Attorney-General Abubakar Malami.
Just imagine what a Tax Policy Associates-style investigation of real estate ownership in Nigeria’s big cities would reveal.
Because in Nigeria, power is deployed into service only when we pray in the mosque or the church. Outside that, power is for the self.
And if you can export that power abroad in funds that belong to the commonwealth, to deprive other Nigerians of it and make you live like a king forever, so much the better!