In the dry heat of Lagos’ Alaba Rago market, the familiar sounds of Eid preparations are hauntingly quieter this year. The bleating of rams echoes against empty stalls, and sellers—who usually haggle from dawn to dusk—now sit idly, watching as foot traffic turns to dust.
Adamu, a seasoned ram trader from Katsina, leans against a rusted pole, eyes scanning the thinning crowd.
“Last year, I sold over 40 rams before Sallah,” he says, a hand resting on the back of a restless, horned ram. “Today? Only four sold in a week. People ask, they sigh, and they walk away,” he told NewsClick Nigeria
Price Shocks and Buyer Silence
At just a days to Eid al-Adha, buyers are showing up — but they’re not buying.
Musa Bello, a civil servant shopping with his brother, shakes his head after asking for the price of a medium ram.
“₦400,000? For meat that won’t last a week? I’ll pray and fast this year. No sacrifice,” he says, walking away.
Another buyer, Halima Ojo, came with ₦180,000 — hopeful for a modest ram.
“I didn’t expect to find anything below ₦250,000. We’ll either do a joint cow with neighbors or nothing at all.”
Rising Costs Crippling Sellers
The traders blame it on a brutal mix of inflation, fuel scarcity, and insecurity. Transporting livestock from the North has become a high-risk, high-cost journey.
“We used to pay ₦70,000 for fuel and security to get here,” says Lummy Gidado of Lummy’s Butchery, a well-known meat supplier in Lagos. “This year, it cost ₦230,000. And that’s without the ‘settlements’ at each police stop.”
Lummy points to a thickset white ram chained beside his kiosk.
“This one was ₦180,000 last year. It’s ₦420,000 now, and that’s me breaking even. We’re not being greedy — we’re surviving.”
The Shift: Cows, Crowdfunding, and Community Sacrifice
With ram prices reaching between ₦300,000 and ₦1.2 million, many buyers are adjusting:
Group Sacrifices: Families pool money to buy a cow (₦700,000–₦1.5 million) and split the meat.
Community Butcher Shares: Butchers like Lummy’s offer fixed-price shares of a cow (₦50,000–₦80,000 per share).
Opting Out: More people are skipping the sacrifice altogether, focusing on prayer and charity instead.
Imam Yusuf Kareem, a local religious scholar, has addressed concerns directly:
“Allah does not burden a soul beyond its means. If you cannot afford it, there is no sin. What matters is intention and devotion.”
Sellers at the Edge
At dusk, Adamu pours a little water for his animals. His phone hasn’t rung all day. He had planned to send money home for his wife and two children, but now he’s unsure if he’ll break even.
“If I don’t sell at least half, I can’t go back with anything. Just debt.”
Lummy, whose butchery now operates more like a livestock co-op than a premium meat supplier, echoes a warning:
“If this continues next year, many of us will close shop. And then what? Imported meat? No culture in that.”
This Eid, a Different Kind of Sacrifice
The spirit of Eid is still alive — just quieter. Less flashy. More reflective. For sellers like Adamu and Lummy, and buyers like Halima and Musa, this year’s Eid al-Adha feels less like a celebration and more like survival.
“Sacrifice,” Adamu says softly, “is not just meat. Sometimes, it’s hope.”