DEFIANT VENDORS: The reason we refuse to stop selling on Abuja roads despite FCTA's ban

At 1:45pm on Herbert Macaulay Way, a bustling road in Nigeria's Federal Capital Territory, the sounds of car horns and chatter fill the air, as a black Sports Utility Vehicle idles outside the NNPC Towers, while men in suits pace around, shouting into their phones.

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Across the road, cars slowly make their way into a Total filling station, where the cacophony of horns blaring creates more distraction, but beside the station, a makeshift market has sprung up, with nylon sheets spread on the ground, and an array of goods, including sachet drinks, groundnuts, cucumber, roasted yam, boiled cassava, and roasted corn, arranged in rows, providing a haven for traders and customers to conduct their business under the shade of umbrellas and old campaign posters.

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Paul, a regular at the roadside eatery, fans himself with a file, remarking that the scorching sun can fry an egg, as he avoids the high-priced supermarkets that dot the city, instead opting for the more affordable options available at the makeshift market.

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Less than a metre away, Mama Ada, 52, arranges boiled corn and coconut in a plastic basin, calling out prices to her customers, who include bankers, drivers, and dispatch riders from the nearby NITEL building, as she goes about her daily business, until the sudden arrival of two white Abuja Environmental Protection Board, AEPB, vans, which sends the traders into a frenzy.

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Fifteen-year-old Hauwa, who had been approaching the scene with a plastic bowl on her head, filled with various goods, including water, Gala, chewing gum, and sweets, swiftly drops everything and flees with incredible speed to avoid being taken away by the authorities, disappearing between taxis in a matter of seconds, leaving her tray and goods behind, as sachets of water and other items scatter on the road.

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A driver swerves menacingly to avoid brushing against the scattered goods, while other traders who had seen the task force in time also take off, with Mama Ada dragging her basin behind an SUV, and a young man with phone chargers tucking his wares into a backpack and disappearing into the crowd, as the stretch is almost empty in a matter of minutes, a scene that has become all too familiar for the hawkers who have been barred by the FCTA and the AEPB.

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But despite the risks, Hauwa, who shares a single room with her two siblings and three cousins in a slum outside Mpape, with no running water, and a borehole 10 minutes away, has no choice but to continue, as her parents, who are farmers in Niger State, struggle to make ends meet, after bandits attacked their village two years ago, and drought destroyed the rest of the harvest, forcing Hauwa to follow her aunt to Abuja, where she now sells goods on the street to survive.

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Hauwa's story is not unique, as many others, including Felicia, who hails from Nasarawa State, and is a secondary school student, are forced to sell goods on the street to help their families, with Felicia remarking that she has been lucky enough to evade the several raids by AEPB enforcement officers, because she only sells cooked groundnuts and avoids areas where they patrol.

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At Berger roundabout, Musa, 28, moves between cars selling phone chargers, screen guards, earphones, and car perfumes, with a keen sense of awareness, knowing which window will open and which driver will wave him off, as he navigates the busy streets, having previously worked as a commercial motorcyclist in Mabushi, before the FCTA banned commercial motorcycles from the city centre, forcing him to turn to hawking, which has become a fast-moving business in the FCT.

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Musa now averages N3,000 to N4,000 daily, but on days when task force raids are serious, he returns home with less than N1,000, and despite having finished primary school in Kankiya, Katsina State, and studied Arabic under his late father, an imam, he finds himself running from the task force like a thief, as hunger and poverty have become his constant companions.

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Mama Blessing, 45, is a familiar face at a traffic light in Wuse II, where she sells roasted yam, plantain, peppered beef, dried fish, and sachet drinks, using a small charcoal stove and a cooler strapped to a trolley, and despite having her wares seized by the AEPB several times, she remains determined to keep her business running, as she knows that the markets in Gwagwalada and other areas are either too far or too expensive, with a lock-up shop in Garki costing between N150,000 to N300,000 annually, plus agreement fees.

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For buyers like Mr. Emmanuel, a civil servant from Lugbe, and a banker who works on Herbert Macaulay Way, the hawkers provide a convenient and affordable option, with Mr. Emmanuel remarking that it's easier to buy from them, and the banker noting that the corn and coconut she buys from Mama Ada are cheaper and fresher than what she would find in the canteen.

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According to the Federal Capital Territory Administration, Abuja was not designed for street hawking, and officials argue that it blocks drains, causes traffic, litters the streets, and attracts crime, with a former Director of AEPB, Dr. Baba Lawal, stating that the city has markets in every district and skills centres, but the hawkers counter that the markets are either too far or too expensive, and that they have no alternative but to use the available public space to survive.

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The AEPB maintains outposts in key areas across the city centre, backed by mobile teams that conduct periodic raids, seizing hundreds of trays, coolers, and goods monthly, with offenders paying fines ranging from N5,000 to N20,000 to retrieve their seized items, and repeat offenders being taken to court, but the hawkers continue to return, as they have no other means of survival.

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A welfare officer at an FCT shelter in Bwari notes that most of the children picked up by the AEPB are not from Abuja, but have come to the city due to insecurity, hunger, or to meet relatives, and that the shelter houses boys and girls between the ages of 10 and 17, who are rescued from the streets, but often return to the streets due to a lack of alternative options.

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The Executive Director of the Civil Society Legislative and Advocacy Centre, CISLAC, suggests that banning hawking without addressing unemployment will not work, and that the government should consider designated vending zones, micro-credit, and linkage to markets, as a means of organizing the hawkers, rather than chasing them away.

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Economists note that Abuja's informal sector employs thousands, with a 2024 NBS report putting informal employment in the FCT at over 60%, and that for many, hawking is the only entry point, as the city's economy is built on government, and the cost of living is high, making it difficult for people to survive without finding alternative means of income.

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As the day comes to a close, the hawkers return to their usual spots, with Hauwa back at Area 1 with a borrowed tray, needing N2,000 before going home, Mama Ada having made N3,200, and Musa counting N3,800, as they continue their daily routine of hustling to survive, in a city designed to be a model capital, but where they represent a reality that officials detest and try to eradicate.

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Until the economy changes, and there are jobs and affordable markets, Abuja's last hawkers will keep running, as they have no other choice but to obey the ban and go hungry, or risk arrest and feed their families, a simple yet stark reality that faces them every day.