Living without the internet in Lagos sounded like one of those cute TikTok challenges. You know, the kind where someone goes, “Guys, no internet for 24 hours! So aesthetic!” But this wasn’t aesthetic—it was survival.
With my phone on airplane mode, my router unplugged, and vibes as my only strategy, I prepared for the wildest 24 hours of my life. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t ready.

Hour 1: E Still Dey Sweet
It started fine. I told myself, Shebi it’s just one day. I’d finally finish that book I’ve been pretending to read since 2022. So, I grabbed my novel, made tea, and felt like the main character. By Hour 2, I’d read the same page three times. The silence was so loud I could hear my neighbor blasting Fido’s latest song, screaming, “Joy is coming!” My hand twitched toward my phone, but I resisted.
Then, NEPA struck. No internet, no light. Double wahala for dead body.
Hour 5: Lagos Chaos Is Free Entertainment
Bored out of my mind, I decided to take a walk. Lagos streets without scrolling Instagram is like entering a video game on hard mode. First stop: mama put. While eating my jollof and dodo, I overheard an auntie ranting about how her son wants to be a “content creator” instead of an engineer. “So he can be shouting, ‘Like and subscribe’ abi?” she hissed.
A man nearby added, “Na so dem dey start. Next thing, dem go dey sell waist trainer.”
I laughed so hard, I nearly choked. Lagos may not have Wi-Fi everywhere, but it has drama in abundance.
Hour 10: NEPA Light, But No Peace
NEPA decided to restore power, but guess what? I couldn’t even Netflix and chill. I stared at my TV like it had betrayed me. To pass time, I attempted to cook. Let’s just say the indomie I made could’ve qualified for an Olympic worst taste competition.
My neighbor, Auntie Bose, knocked on my door to ask if I had seen her cat. “Auntie, abeg no vex, but is your cat on Snapchat? Because I’m offline o.” She hissed and left.
Hour 15: I Accidentally Joined a Local Vigil
By evening, my boredom had reached shigidi levels. I wandered out again and stumbled into a street vigil. Apparently, someone’s generator had gone missing, and the owner was not playing.
The crowd was shouting, “Holy Ghost fire!” while I awkwardly joined in, hoping they wouldn’t ask me for an offering. They thought I was deeply spiritual; I was just looking for gist.

The suspense hit when one man screamed, “Dem don catch am!” Everyone ran toward the commotion, only to find out it was a false alarm. At this point, I missed Twitter’s chaos—it felt more predictable than this.
Hour 23: The Plot Twist
With one hour to go, I decided to write down my reflections. No internet had forced me to taya. Then, as if scripted by Nollywood, my phone buzzed. NEPA had failed again, and my router suddenly rebooted. I checked my messages: nothing but 14 “I miss you” texts from my situationship. Omo, abeg log off again!
Just as I was about to celebrate surviving 24 hours, my friend barged in. “You dey house? Why you no reply my WhatsApp?” I couldn’t even explain. Instead, I offered her leftover indomie—she declined. Lagos wins again.
Moral of the Story: Go Offline, But Be Ready
Living without the internet in Lagos is not for the faint-hearted. You’ll hear gist you didn’t ask for, eat food you’ll regret, and maybe join a vigil by mistake. But one thing’s for sure: Lagos will never let you rest.
Would you try this challenge? Drop your thoughts in the comments—or better still, tag someone who needs to touch grass!
Hey Luv, Waitttttttt. Feel More Crackko Vibe:
Ever wondered what happens when you mix ancient traditions with modern social media? Find out in our collection of thought-provoking cultural stories in Cultural Experiments.
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