On the Frontline With Boma
“What you sow is what you reap” is not merely a biblical proverb casually recited to caution children; it is a timeless moral compass that speaks directly to the conscience of societies. It is a reminder that actions good or evil have consequences, sometimes delayed, but never denied. Sadly, contemporary Nigeria appears to be sowing seeds of moral indifference, and the harvest threatens to be bitter.
The phenomenon popularly known as Yahoo Yahoo internet fraud has taken a dangerous and disturbing turn. What once appeared as a male-dominated criminal enterprise has now expanded into a wider social network, drawing in young women who would ordinarily be expected to play nurturing roles in families and society. These young ladies, future mothers and moral guides of the next generation, are increasingly becoming accomplices in a criminal subculture that is corroding the soul of the nation.
A recent incident in Port Harcourt, the Rivers State capital, brought this grim reality into sharp focus. A young woman in her early twenties was arrested in a beauty salon—not for theft or disorderly conduct, but for quietly packing customers’ natural hair into a polythene bag. At first glance, one might assume she was simply tidying up the salon. But this was no act of cleanliness. The hair was merchandise, carefully gathered and sold to Yahoo boys for ritual purposes.
In a now-viral video, the young lady—handcuffed and seated on the floor calmly explained her role to those who arrested her. She confessed to collecting innocent people’s hair and selling it for ritual use in exchange for money. Her name has not been officially disclosed, but her confession echoed loudly across social media, stirring fear, anger, and soul-searching.
Crime thrives not only because there are those who perpetrate it, but because there are others who enable it. The Yahoo enterprise, as this incident clearly demonstrates, is no longer a one-man show. It is a network—a collaboration of greed, desperation, silence, and moral compromise. As the saying goes, it takes two hands to clap to produce an audible sound.
For years, the Yahoo narrative focused almost exclusively on young men—flashy lifestyles, exotic cars, and sudden wealth. Arrests by security agencies reinforced this perception. But the Port Harcourt salon incident tells a much larger and more troubling story. It reveals a quiet army of enablers operating in everyday spaces—salons, markets, campuses, and neighborhoods where trust is assumed and vigilance is low.
The use of human hair for ritual purposes is not a new phenomenon in Nigeria. Stories about ritualists harvesting hair, nails, and personal effects have circulated for decades, often dismissed as urban legends. But legends persist because they are anchored in fragments of truth. What has changed is the scale, boldness, and normalization of such practices under the umbrella of quick-money culture.
I recall vividly taking my children to salons to wash and braid their hair. Like most parents, I watched salon workers hurriedly sweep away fallen strands of hair, assuming they were merely keeping the environment tidy. It never occurred to many of us that those hair strands could become tools of harm. Then the stories began to circulate—whispers at first, then louder conversations that ritualists had infiltrated salons.
Fear crept in. Caution replaced convenience. I went to the store and bought everything needed to care for my daughters’ hair at home—hair dryer, straightener, shampoo, conditioner, creams. It was not easy. Sometimes it was exhausting. Other times, it was inconvenient. But it felt necessary. When we did visit salons, they were random but carefully chosen. That cautious tradition remains with them today, even as grown adults living far from home.
This is the ripple effect of crime: it alters behaviour, erodes trust, and turns ordinary spaces into zones of suspicion.
One cannot help but ask: What drives a young woman into such an ugly trade? Is it desperation fueled by economic hardship? Is it an identity crisis in a society that glorifies wealth without interrogating its source? Or is it the dangerous pull of the bandwagon—doing evil simply because others appear to be getting away with it?
The young lady reportedly sold the collected hair for a paltry ₦2,000. Just ₦2,000—barely above one dollar. In today’s Nigeria, that amount cannot buy a decent meal, not even a plate of “Mama Put” food with meat. The triviality of the reward stands in stark contrast to the gravity of the act.
This raises a troubling question: Why would anyone engage in such a dangerous and morally bankrupt trade for so little? The answer suggests something far deeper than hunger—it points to a collapse of values, a deadened conscience, and a society where evil has been normalized in the pursuit of survival or status.
There is also the issue of accountability. The girl in question should not be treated merely as an isolated offender. She must be thoroughly investigated not just punished, but questioned to uncover collaborators, networks, and beneficiaries. If one salon worker can quietly gather hair for ritual use, how many others are doing the same across cities and towns?
This menace has spanned generations, but it has now mutated with newer, more sinister trends. The fusion of cybercrime with ritual practices represents a dangerous evolution—one that weaponizes superstition, desperation, and ignorance. It is a toxic cocktail that must be confronted decisively.
Deterrence is crucial. When perpetrators of such acts are treated with kid gloves, society sends the wrong message. Justice must be firm, fair, and visible. Punishment is not merely about retribution; it is about signaling that certain lines must never be crossed.
However, law enforcement alone cannot solve this crisis. Parents, religious institutions, schools, and community leaders must reclaim their roles as moral gatekeepers. Wealth must no longer be celebrated without scrutiny. Children must be taught that dignity, honesty, and patience are not outdated virtues but survival tools for a sustainable society.
Nigeria must also confront the hypocrisy of condemning Yahoo boys publicly while secretly admiring their wealth. As long as stolen affluence attracts respect, crime will continue to recruit willing hands—male and female alike.
Yahoo girls are not just accomplices; they are symbols of a deeper moral decay. They reflect a society where conscience is negotiable and evil is transactional. Until we address the root causes—poverty, misplaced values, weak institutions, and collective silence,the rot will persist.
Scripture is replete with warnings about societies that trade conscience for convenience. In the book of Galatians 6:7, we are reminded: “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” This verse does not threaten,it explains. It tells us that moral actions are seeds, and societies, like individuals, eventually harvest what they plant.
The tragedy of the Yahoo girls phenomenon is not merely criminality; it is the deliberate suspension of conscience. The Bible describes conscience as the law written on the human heart. When that inner compass is silenced, evil no longer appears shocking—it becomes routine. Collecting human hair for ritual gain then becomes “work,” and human dignity becomes expendable.
Philosophically, this moment mirrors what Hannah Arendt famously described as “the banality of evil.” Evil, she argued, does not always announce itself with monstrous faces; sometimes it wears the ordinary look of compliance, routine, and justification. The young woman in the salon was not wielding a weapon; she was sweeping hair. Yet that ordinary act, stripped of moral reflection, became a contribution to harm.
Similarly, Socrates warned that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” A society that no longer examines its choices—why wealth is worshipped, why success is measured only in material terms, why patience is mocked gradually loses its moral center. When young people stop asking “Is this right?” and ask only “Does it pay?”, collapse is no longer a possibility; it becomes inevitable.
The pursuit of wealth itself is not condemned, but the desperation to get rich by any means is identified as a snare—a trap that destroys not only the individual but the moral fabric of society.
Traditional African philosophy equally condemns this path. Our elders taught that character outlives riches, and that wealth without honour is a curse disguised as blessing. In many Nigerian cultures, shame not poverty was the greatest deterrent to wrongdoing. Today, shame has been outsourced, while wealth no matter its source has become a badge of honour.
The Yahoo girls narrative forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: moral decay is not gendered. When values collapse, everyone becomes vulnerable—men as perpetrators, women as collaborators, children as future casualties. Evil does not discriminate; it recruits whoever is available.
Until conscience is restored through faith, ethical education, responsible parenting, and social accountability,Nigeria will continue to fight symptoms while ignoring the disease. Laws may restrain behavior, but only values restrain desire. And without desire in check, no society survives intact.
What we sow today in our tolerance of crime, our silence in the face of evil, and our celebration of ill-gotten wealth,we will surely reap tomorrow. And if we are not careful, that harvest may consume us all.
On the Frontline With Boma is published by The Port Harcourt Telegraph Newspaper authored by the Managing Editor
