The eye is heavy and clear when it considers this unpeopled scene in Zik Hall. The eye notices the minor filth and the desolation. The eye does not know whether to call this a natural world or a compromised world. The eye remembers it is in Nigeria and the weight has to be interpreted. So, the eye interprets. In a country hostile to its unprivileged children and peers and parents, the urge and necessity to leave this world behind is keen and growing. The eye intended for it to demonstrate a kind of apocalypse. The eye is equally aware that this place, this Nigeria is an apocalypse to many Nigerians. The eye has plenty to say. The eye has nothing more to say.

Leave This World Behind.

This young girl's first reaction was fear. She ran far away from the drone, but her fear quickly turned to curiosity. The other kids still ran away whenever they saw it, and she too was scared, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear, so she approached us and watched with amazement as the drone flew overhead, several times. For the five days that I spent working in their small community, I committed to teaching her to fly the drone, and when she finally could control it unaided, she truly felt like a superhero. Her courage had paid off and she gained a valuable skill that distinguishes her from her peers. I imagine a Nigeria where children are taught to overcome fear, and to embrace curiosity. Where skills are not hidden behind an age wall that doesn't need to exist. 

The girl pilot

This image captures the setting sun in a rural area, it captures the serenity that comes with sun down , only very little glimmer of light as the settlement goes to bed a night, I think but so many lenses get to capture this rare occasion. Very often we get to see how busy and rowdy the streets of Nigeria can be but not how peaceful and serene the sunset is. 

The sun set 

In the heart of MAKOKO, LAGOS, you will find gentle flowing rivers, wooden boats, and a community of resilient and hard working people working together with one clear goal — SURVIVAL,  because they know divided they fall.

United we Stand 

On the edge of the city’s chaos, he waits — not just for money, but for kindness. The colors on his hoodie echo the fragments of a life pieced together with resilience, while the world passes by, too busy to notice the quiet weight of his presence.

Silent Plea 

First Full Moon of 2026 1 February · 11:59 PM  Moonlight over palm silhouettes, Nigeria.

First Feb Full Moon 2026

Dwarfed against the Third Mainland Bridge, two teen boys move in practiced rhythm on their banana boat. One holds the paddle, one prepares the net. This is their tango, a dance learned young, choreographed by necessity. In a city that never stops, survival is finding your partner and learning the steps together. One leads, one follows. One navigates, one casts. The rhythm is trust, the music is hope, and the stage is water beneath infrastructure built for a different Lagos. This is how you dance when the city won't slow down for you.

Tango with me 

The photograph brilliantly plays with its title by presenting a visual paradox: Is this a moment of miraculous rebirth (Resurrection), with the body overcoming its physical restraints? Or is it a final, spiritual departure (Ascension)? The stark, empty setting and the theatrical staging transform a simple jump shot into a powerful meditation on life, death, transcendence, and the human desire for release.

RESURRECTION OR ASCENSION ?

In the quiet haze of dawn, a lone fisherman glides across the water, his silhouette a timeless symbol of sustenance and solitude. Against the faint outline of the city, this image captures a serene, contemplative side of 'Another Nigeria', a moment where the quiet rhythms of traditional life persist in the shadow of the modern world.

The Quiet Toil

A detail many would ignore, a sprout tucked into a sock, now part of the body. It captures a local intimacy, youth culture, and the quiet poetry hidden in play. The title speaks to how the things we repeat, like Sunday football, slowly become sacred without us realizing it.  This was taken during Sunday football, fondly called Gattuso in the south, at Kolapo Ishola Estate in Ibadan. Every week, people from nearby areas gather to play, laugh, and reconnect. It reminded me of Ede, where Sunday football was never just a game but a reunion. We looked forward to it all week, knowing we’d see old friends home for the weekend from school or work.  It’s funny how something so ordinary can hold so much memory, the laughter, the dust, the sunset, and the feeling of being exactly where you belong.

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