CHILDREN ON ABUJA’S STREETS: WHEN THE LAW FAILS THE MOST VULNERABLE

Abuja presents itself as a city of order. The broad roads, structured districts, and the quiet symbolism of a nation’s capital all suggest a place where policy meets practice. However, at nearly every busy intersection, a different reality comes into view. Children, some barely old enough for primary school, weave between moving vehicles carrying trays of goods, tapping on car windows, and calling out to drivers trying to move through traffic.

They are not supposed to be there. Their presence is so much more than a social concern, it is a direct contradiction of Nigerian law.

Street hawking by minors has become so common in the capital that it is routinely overlooked. For a lot of residents, it has simply folded into the texture of daily life, now treated as another feature of the traffic and another face in the crowd. That normalisation hides the difficult truth that these children are working in conditions that are unsafe, unregulated, and, in many cases, unlawful. They are exposed to road accidents, severe weather, exploitation, and extended hours of labour. They are also being denied what the law promises them such as education, protection, and a safe environment for their development.

Nigeria is not without legal protections for children. The Child Rights Act 2003 sets out a comprehensive framework for child welfare. It defines a child as any person below the age of 18 and expressly prohibits exploitative or hazardous labour. The position of the statute is unambiguous. Any work that interferes with a child’s education, health, or overall development is impermissible.

The Labour Act imposes similar restrictions. It allows only light, non-harmful tasks, generally within a family context, and strictly forbids children from engaging in hazardous work or activities that place them in danger. Street hawking along busy roads does not fall within the statutory notion of “light work.” It is physically demanding, carries significant safety risks, and frequently takes place during school hours or well into the evening. In this light, much of what is visible on Abuja’s streets constitutes a legal violation.

If the law is this clear, why does the practice persist? The answer lies less in the state of the legislation and more in the weakness of enforcement, shaped by deeper socio-economic realities. Poverty remains a central driver. For many families operating on the economic margins, the income produced by a child’s labour is treated as essential and survival often takes precedence over compliance with the law.

Enforcement itself is inconsistent. We have regulatory bodies, yet the visible scale of child hawking in the capital suggests that monitoring and enforcement mechanisms are either overstretched or insufficiently prioritised.

Cultural acceptance also plays a role as we have some settings where child hawking is framed as a way to teach responsibility or contribute to the household. Over time, that framing has blurred the boundary between acceptable domestic support and harmful exploitation.

Another dimension to look at is urban vulnerability. A significant number of the children seen trading on Abuja’s roads are displaced, homeless, or operating outside stable family structures. Intervention in such cases becomes considerably more complex.

The consequences of child labour extend well beyond the immediate moment. Children who spend their formative years working on the streets are significantly more likely to drop out of school, to remain trapped in cycles of poverty, and to face elevated risks of abuse and exploitation. What appears to be a short-term coping strategy often hardens into a long-term barrier to opportunity.

The persistence of child hawking in Abuja cannot be attributed to government alone. It is a collective failure. Every transaction at a car window, every quiet acceptance of the status quo, contributes, however unintentionally, to sustaining the system.

That observation does not reduce the responsibility of the authorities. Stronger enforcement of existing statutes, improved access to education, and targeted social welfare interventions remain essential. Public attitudes, however, must also shift. Children should have no place in the urban workforce.

Abuja is the seat of power, policy, and national direction. The daily presence of children hawking and begging on the streets raises an uncomfortable question. If the law exists to protect children, why is it least visible in the city where it ought to be most evident? Until that question is answered through action rather than language, the children on Abuja’s streets will continue to stand as a reminder of the distance between policy and reality, and of a responsibility yet to be fulfilled.

Evita Felix-Okonti, Esq.
Associate Partner and Practice Group Lead, Corporate, Commercial and Industrial Law (CCI)