In Lagos, dispatch riders have become unwitting participants in illicit trade, transporting weed, other hard drugs and strange consignments to customers.

Operating under the guise of legitimate deliveries, they navigate the city’s streets, sometimes, unaware of some of the illegal contents they carry. Aside from the odd parcels, this report majorly delves into the growing issue of drug smuggling through courier services, revealing the challenges of regulating this shadowy aspect of the delivery industry, GODFREY GEORGE writes

As the sun rises over the bustling streets of Lagos, the city stirs to life with the honking of cars and humming of motorcycles weaving through traffic like fish swimming in water.

On any given day, these riders are the lifeline of the fast-paced city, delivering distinctive packages that range from the mundane to the outright bizarre.

These seasoned dispatch riders, who know every shortcut and back alley in the city, usually have strapped on their head, protective helmets, and carry behind them a box-like container either made of plastic or metal, used to ferry meals and other goods to impatient customers.

Yet, beneath the surface of this everyday hustle lies a darker, more sinister operation—one that thrives in the shadows, hidden in plain sight.

The use of dispatch riders as couriers of illegal narcotics and other strange consignments has become an open secret in Nigeria’s underworld and the public.

These riders, once the unsung heroes during the COVID-19 lockdown for the vital role they played in keeping the economy afloat, are now the unsuspecting faces of a thriving drug trade and conveyors of strange packages.

The rise in the use of motorcycles for illicit drug delivery has transformed the streets of Nigerian cities into the veins of a vast, clandestine network, pulsating with the flow of weed, cocaine, and other hard drugs.

Oddly, these riders are not just delivering parcels; they are also carriers of deeply personal and often mystical items often wrapped in discreet packages.

As they weave through frenetic traffic, they transport sacrifices—items intended for spiritual rituals or appeasement, which are often a mix of traditional herbs, symbolic tokens, and sometimes, even live animals, entrusted to them by customers seeking to fulfil cultural or religious obligations.

The riders, adept at blending into the urban landscape, also become unwitting bearers of the city’s spiritual undercurrents.

For Ahmed Ibrahim, a seasoned dispatch rider, as he glanced at the delivery app on his phone on this very day, he knew this wouldn’t be a typical day. The first job of the morning took him to a small, dimly lit apartment in Surulere. As he knocked on the door, a woman in her mid-thirties answered, cradling a bundle wrapped in a colourful Ankara cloth.

“Please, handle it with care,” she said, her eyes wide with an emotion that Ahmed couldn’t quite place. She handed over the bundle, which was surprisingly heavy.

As he secured it to his bike, he couldn’t help but wonder what was inside the tightly wrapped parcel nestling inside his delivery container.

The address on the package led him to a high-end boutique in Victoria Island, where a well-dressed man quickly took the bundle, muttering something about a “sacred item” before disappearing into the store.

Next, Ahmed’s phone buzzed with a new request. This time, he found himself outside a gated mansion in Ikoyi. A stern-looking man in a crisp white kaftan handed him a small wooden box, its surface intricately carved with strange symbols.

“Take this directly to the marina. No detours,” the man ordered, his voice leaving no room for questions. The journey to the marina was tense, with Ahmed constantly checking his rearview mirror, half-expecting to be followed.

Upon arrival, a boatman took the box without a word, slipping it into the folds of his agbada before disappearing into the shadows.

By midday, the sun was blazing overhead, and Ahmed decided to take a break at a roadside buka. As he sipped on a bottle of cold Maltina, his phone buzzed again.

The pickup was from a small herbal shop in Yaba, where an elderly woman gave him a brown envelope smelling faintly of dried herbs and something metallic.

Article presents a view of the topic.

Valid thoughts.