Between Currency Traders and CBN Governor

In the heart of Nigeria, where the lively streets once echoed with the chatter of market vendors and the laughter of children, there now resounds a chorus of frustration and bewilderment. The culprit? The seemingly endless cash scarcity that has gripped the nation with an iron fist, leaving citizens and financial institutions in a state of disarray. As the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) grapples with the daunting task of navigating this financial storm, questions and accusations fly as fast as the naira notes are hoarded. The CBN Governor, Yemi Cardoso, points to the flawed implementation of the naira redesign policy as the root of this chaos. This policy, intended to streamline the financial system, has instead triggered widespread hoarding and a crippling cash shortage.

Imagine the daily plight of ordinary Nigerians. People like Bola in Lagos, who, after a fruitless visit to the bank, could only withdraw N4,000, a paltry sum that barely scratches the surface of her needs. Or Mohammed Sule in the FCT, witnessing the all-too-common sight of long ATM queues, only to be met with a meagre N5,000 to N20,000 withdrawal limit. These stories are but a drop in the ocean of hardships that Nigerians face daily.

Amidst this backdrop of scarcity and despair, a perplexing spectacle unfolds across Nigeria: the enigmatic appearance of crisp, new naira notes at events and parties. Like a mirage in a desert, these bundles of currency emerge in the hands of currency traders, flaunting their wealth in stark contrast to the empty ATMs and the strained smiles of bank tellers.

This phenomenon raises eyebrows and questions alike. How do these traders acquire such vast sums of fresh currency when the average Nigerian struggles to withdraw their hard-earned savings? The disparity is glaring, painting a picture of inequity and hidden machinations within the financial system. As the ordinary citizen queues for hours for a meagre withdrawal, these traders seemingly bypass the turmoil, accessing what appears to be an unending supply of new notes. This unsettling scenario feeds into the general resentment and suspicion among the populace, casting a shadow of doubt over the integrity of the financial system and those who operate within it.

The banks find themselves equally ensnared in this web of scarcity. Sources within admit, albeit anonymously, that the flow of naira is indeed restricted. They encourage digital payments, yet this solution rings hollow for those who depend on physical cash for their daily bread.

And what of the PoS operators, those unsung heroes of modern Nigerian commerce? They stand accused of exacerbating the crisis. Bank employees claim that these operators, with their multitude of accounts and ATM cards, are draining the lifeblood of the cash supply. Yet the PoS operators deflect these accusations, hinting at a more sinister plot. They suggest that bankers themselves might be selling money to them, fueling the scarcity for reasons unknown.

The Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) has raised its voice in protest, condemning the government’s apparent apathy towards this crisis. They see the suffering of the masses and call for immediate action to inject liquidity and restore some semblance of normalcy to the economy.

In this swirling maelstrom of blame and desperation, one fact remains clear: the people of Nigeria are caught in the middle. From the bustling markets of Lagos to the dusty streets of Abuja, the cry for relief is unanimous. The CBN, the banks, and the PoS operators, all must come together to untangle this knot of scarcity and restore the flow of naira to the hands of those who need it most.