‘A Deep Dive into the Allegations, Realities, Why the Critics Are Wrong and What Nigerian Pilgrims Deserve to Know.’
In a country where faith and public trust intersect at critical junctures, clarity is not a luxury it is a necessity_ .
A recent press release by three tour operators, who also serve as zonal vice presidents of the Association of Hajj and Umrah Operators of Nigeria (AHUON), demands such clarity. Titled “Why We Withdrew from Participating in the 2025 Hajj Exercise,” their statement casts a long and troubling shadow over this year’s Hajj operations, alleging improprieties and mismanagement by the National Hajj Commission of Nigeria (NAHCON). But beneath the emotional fervor of their claims lies a web of factual distortions, misleading narratives, and uncorroborated allegations that risk confusing the public and eroding institutional credibility.
It is not just NAHCON’s reputation that is on trial, it is the trust of thousands of Nigerian pilgrims whose sacred journey depends on clarity, and competence.
Let us begin where the confusion started.
The central complaint leveled by the operators is NAHCON’s role in selecting Mashair service providers for the 2025 Hajj. The insinuation is clear: that NAHCON has overstepped its bounds and encroached on responsibilities that rightfully belong to private tour operators. This is not only false, but it is also dangerously misleading.
The truth is contained in the very document that gives NAHCON its legal backbone: the NAHCON Establishment Act of 2006. The Commission was neither created as a ceremonial overseer nor a passive observer. Section 4(1)(h) of the Act grants NAHCON explicit authority to “establish and maintain a system of financial control to ensure prudent and effective utilization of resources.” This is not a suggestion. It is a mandate. Further, Section 4(1)(j) empowers the Commission to “approve and regulate all matters relating to accommodation, transportation, and other services relating to the pilgrims and the pilgrimage.”
To disregard these provisions is to rewrite the law by press release.
To suggest that such decisions be ceded entirely to private operators, without oversight, is not only naïve it is a recipe for chaos and invariably an abdication of the provision of NAHCON’s mandate.
This is not to dismiss the vital role that tour operators play. Their boots-on-the-ground knowledge, logistical networks, and customer-facing services form an indispensable pillar of the Hajj ecosystem. But there must be a clear boundary between service provision and regulation as provided by law. NAHCON does not and cannot outsource its lawful responsibilities to entities with commercial interests in the very processes they seek to control.
Let us be clear: transparency is a two-way street. If tour operators are genuinely concerned about fairness and standards, let them come to the table with data, not insinuations; with constructive proposals, not ultimatums; with accountability, not self-serving interests masked as moral outrage.
Unraveling the Myths: What the Numbers Actually Say
Perhaps the most explosive of the allegations hurled at NAHCON is the claim that the Commission has been less than transparent in setting the 2025 Hajj fares. According to the tour operators’ narrative, NAHCON has manipulated costs, concealing the true financial burden from the Nigerian public. The accusation is dramatic. It is also demonstrably false.
In an era where public accountability is both demanded and measurable, NAHCON has made transparency its cornerstone. Well before the operational phase of the 2025 Hajj began, the Commission publicly released the approved fares for pilgrims ₦8.33 million for those departing from Borno and Adamawa, ₦8.46 million for other northern states, and ₦8.78 million for pilgrims from the South. These figures did not materialize in a vacuum. They emerged from months of meticulous consultations with stakeholders, financial modeling, and negotiations both local components and the Saudi international components.
The second and arguably most incendiary claim leveled by the tour operators is that NAHCON is inflating and deflating Hajj contracts for corrupt gain. It’s an accusation loaded with innuendo and devoid of evidence. It also willfully ignores the economic headwinds and policy shifts that have reshaped the cost landscape not just for Hajj, but for every sector in Nigeria over the past two years.
Let’s separate fiction from fact.
In 2023, a pilgrim embarking on the sacred journey from Lagos paid approximately ₦2.99 million. That figure rose sharply by 2024 not because of backroom deals or padded invoices but because Nigeria’s economic terrain changed dramatically. Following the government’s decision to float the naira, the exchange rate spiraled, and so too did the cost of all foreign-denominated services, including airfare, accommodation, and local transportation in Saudi Arabia.
The result? A recalibrated Hajj fare of about ₦6.8 million per pilgrim, up from the initially announced ₦4.9 million. That gap was bridged only through a ₦90 billion federal subsidy, a staggering intervention that covered ₦1.637 million per pilgrim. Even with that support, early registrants were forced to top up an additional ₦1.9 million to align with the new exchange-rate realities.
Fast-forward to 2025. The subsidy is gone, and pilgrims must now shoulder the full cost of the journey. The current fare ranging from ₦8.3 million to ₦8.7 million depending on region is not an arbitrary figure. It reflects the true market cost of an unsubsidized Hajj. The math is clear, the causality undeniable: it was foreign exchange volatility and the removal of government subsidies not corrupt procurement that shaped these figures.
If there was ever an era of inflated Hajj contracts, it existed long before NAHCON’s recent reforms. That was a time when shadowy middlemen brokered deals in smoke-filled rooms, inflating invoices and pocketing kickbacks at the expense of pilgrims. It’s a history that remains etched in institutional memory and one that some of today’s critics, ironically, were complicit in.
Indeed, the very individuals now accusing NAHCON of corruption were once beneficiaries of this old, unregulated system. Their 2023 Hajj airlift operations riddled with delays, mismanagement, and unmet service benchmarks stand as painful reminders of the era NAHCON has worked hard to dismantle. Under the leadership of Chairman Professor Abdullahi Saleh Usman, the Commission has launched a quiet revolution by enforcing competitive bidding and insisting on value-for-money principles that threaten the old patronage networks.
In short, some players are upset not because the system is broken but because it’s finally being fixed.
To blame corruption for rising costs in today’s macroeconomic environment is to weaponize public sentiment for private interests. It’s a convenient narrative but one that collapses under the weight of documented facts.
In a media environment quick to amplify outrage and slow to verify nuance, the phrase “widespread corruption in NAHCON” lands like a grenade. It risks doing more than damaging reputations. It undermines public confidence, erodes morale, and sweeps away the efforts of countless honest NAHCON STAFF under an umbrella of generalized suspicion.
Of course, no institution is without blemish. NAHCON, like every Nigerian public sector agency, has experienced isolated cases of misconduct. These episodes, however rare, are dealt with swiftly and decisively through official channels. Investigations were thorough, offenders held accountable, and corrective measures promptly put in place to prevent a reoccurrence.
But isolated incidents cannot justify sweeping and blanket indictments.
But to leap from a few infractions to the wholesale condemnation of an entire institution is neither accurate nor fair. It is a distortion one that talks more about the accuser’s intentions than the institution’s realities.
What the public often doesn’t see is the quiet dedication of the majority. The Nusuk masa team who work through the night to review online applications to process visas. The field officers who troubleshoot accommodation, feeding, Airports, media, security, transport, Tafweej, pilgrims release, tent management, in real time under the searing Saudi sun. The financial officers who audit every expense against internal controls. These are not faceless bureaucrats, these are NAHCON staff who are Nigerians of integrity, some of whom have been publicly recognized by anti-corruption bodies for their transparent service. Their stories, stories of selfless sacrifice, tireless commitment, and impeccable character rarely make headlines. These officials are never recognized.
To flatten all this into a headline of “widespread corruption” is not just lazy information sharing, but grossly irresponsible.
Another common refrain in their barrage of criticisms against NAHCON is that the Commission wields “unjust control” over the selection of service providers sidestepping tour operators and acting with little transparency. But beneath this accusation lies a fundamental misunderstanding, or perhaps a willful distortion, of what regulation means in the context of the Hajj.
Let’s start with the facts. NAHCON’s authority is not self-declared. It is rooted in law specifically, the NAHCON Establishment Act of 2006, which empowers the Commission to “license, regulate, supervise and perform oversight functions” over any entity involved in Hajj operations. This legal framework is not ornamental. It is the institutional spine that allows Nigeria to manage one of the most complex logistical and spiritual exercises on the planet.
In this role, NAHCON is mandated to vet and approve all service providers from airlines to accommodation vendors to catering companies to ensure pilgrims are not exploited and that standards remain consistent. The idea that such oversight is “unjust” overlooks a global consensus: in virtually every country with a significant Muslim population from Indonesia down to Senegal, Hajj management is centralized under a national authority to streamline services, secure bulk agreements, and prevent chaos. Malaysia and Indonesia, globally recognized for their well-coordinated Hajj systems, operate under this same principle.
And Nigeria is no different.
NAHCON negotiates umbrella contracts often within parameters set by Saudi authorities but works in constant consultation with state officials and Tour Operators, incorporating feedback on menus, dietary needs, and transport logistics. The Commission even resisted a new Saudi policy in 2025 that would centralize all pilgrim feeding under Saudi-designated firms pushing back in defense of Nigerian-style meals and local food preferences.
This is not the behavior of a power-drunk regulator. It is the action of a Commission walking a tightrope between sovereignty and international compliance, seeking the best possible outcome for our Pilgrims in a foreign land.
And as for Private Tour Operators (PTOs), a group whose voice has grown loudest in the criticism chorus, the same regulatory lens applies. NAHCON licenses PTOs to ensure they meet minimum operational and financial standards before they are entrusted with pilgrims’ lives abroad. What’s being labeled as “control” is, in reality, quality assurance, which is where much of the current friction lies. NAHCON’s regulatory oversight is both necessary and fair.
When tour operators accuse NAHCON of being “high-handed,” the natural question is high-handed in relation to whom?
The answer is as plain as it is uncomfortable: unscrupulous service providers who once thrived in a system with too little oversight and too much impunity. For them, NAHCON’s insistence on structure, transparency, and service delivery is not high-handedness it is heresy.
But NAHCON should make no apologies. It should remain unyielding in its defense of the Nigerian Hujjaj. It should not stand by while pilgrims who save for years to undertake the Hajj are shortchanged by mediocrity masquerading as tradition. It should continue to demand, without fear or favor, that every provider, be it a global airline or a local caterer delivers exactly what was promised, at the quality promised, for the price agreed.
And yet, having dismantled each major allegation with facts, one must now ask the more probing question: Why have these tour operators painted such a grim and selective picture of NAHCON?
Motives are murky terrain, but it all descends on the fact that their chosen Mashair service provider was Ithra Al Khair was not chosen by their tour Operators colleagues for the 2025 Hajj. But context matters. What we are witnessing is not a spontaneous concern for pilgrims. It is the backlash of disrupted interests. The same service provider that they were accusing NAHCON of conniving with to offer substandard services to pilgrims.
In conclusion for this part, Reform always has casualties. When institutions evolve, those who once benefited from inefficiency often cry the loudest. But public service demands more than accommodation of legacy interests. It demands courage the kind that stands firm amid orchestrated attacks, that prioritizes the collective good over individual gain, that serves the people even when the noise gets deafening.
This is the path NAHCON has chosen. Not because it is easy, but because it is right.
And when the story of the 2025 Hajj is told not through the lens of those who tried to derail it, but through the experiences of the pilgrims who undertook it, it should be clear that facts prevailed over fiction, and that the sacred journey of the Hajj was protected not by convenience, but by conviction.
Mr Muazu can be reached at
Ahmadmuazu@gmail.com
