In a bizarre yet symbolic turn of events, residents of Kwara State witnessed a spectacle that could only be described as uniquely Nigerian, as a group of masquerades took to the streets to lead a public protest against the recent hike in electricity tariffs. The demonstration, which unfolded with a mix of traditional fanfare and palpable frustration, has quickly captured the attention of both citizens and national media, highlighting the rising tension over soaring energy costs.

The protest, staged in the heart of Ilorin, the state capital, saw dozens of masquerades clad in full regalia, accompanied by drummers, dancers, and hundreds of angry residents chanting slogans and carrying placards. The dramatic scene was part carnival, part civil disobedience — an unusual fusion of cultural expression and political outcry that has left many stunned and amused, but also deeply reflective of the growing economic hardship faced by ordinary Nigerians.

While masquerades have historically played significant roles in Nigerian cultural and spiritual traditions — often symbolizing ancestral spirits or acting as moral enforcers in communities — their appearance in what is clearly a socio-political demonstration marks a striking shift. It was a protest like no other, steeped in cultural symbolism yet driven by urgent economic grievances. The masquerades were not just dancing for entertainment; they were marching with a message.

At the heart of the protest is widespread anger over the recent increase in electricity tariffs imposed by power distribution companies, following a directive from the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC). For many residents of Kwara State, who already struggle with erratic power supply and limited access to stable income, the hike feels like an unjust punishment — one that threatens their livelihoods and quality of life.

“We hardly get light, yet they are increasing the tariff,” one protester shouted. “What exactly are we paying for? Darkness?” Another demonstrator held a placard that read: ‘We are not ATM machines!’ — a clear jab at what many see as exploitative billing practices.

What set this protest apart, however, was the commanding presence of the masquerades. One of the masked figures, towering above the crowd in elaborate costume and wielding a staff adorned with cowries and bells, stopped at key intersections to deliver what onlookers interpreted as “blessings” of resistance. Drummers followed in rhythm, while a chant echoed through the crowd: “Enough is enough!”

Eyewitnesses say the masquerades were intentionally invited by local youth groups and community leaders to symbolize the seriousness and sanctity of the protest. In Yoruba tradition, masquerades are believed to embody the spirits of ancestors, and their public appearance is often seen as a rare and sacred occasion. Their involvement in a protest suggests a collective spiritual and cultural rejection of the tariff increase — a dramatic expression of frustration by a people who feel unseen and unheard.

“It’s not just about electricity anymore,” said Rauf Ajibola, a trader who joined the demonstration. “This is about all the suffering we’ve been enduring. Food is expensive, transport is expensive, school fees are going up, and now they want to increase electricity tariff? We’re tired. Even the spirits are tired.”

Videos of the protest began circulating on social media almost immediately, drawing a mix of admiration, disbelief, and humor. Many Nigerians praised the creativity and cultural relevance of the protest, with some suggesting that the use of masquerades might be more effective in grabbing the attention of leaders than traditional protest marches. “You know things are bad when even the ancestors are protesting,” one user commented on X (formerly Twitter).

As the protest gained traction, security personnel were deployed to monitor the procession, though no incidents of violence were reported. The demonstrators marched peacefully through major roads, stopping briefly at the offices of the Ibadan Electricity Distribution Company (IBEDC), where they delivered a letter of grievance and demanded immediate review of the tariff policy.

In response, IBEDC officials acknowledged receipt of the protest letter and promised to forward the concerns to higher authorities. While the company reiterated that the tariff adjustment was in line with national policy, they also appealed for calm and assured residents that efforts were being made to improve power supply across the region.

The Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission, on its part, has continued to defend the tariff hike, citing the need to ensure cost-reflective pricing to sustain operations and attract investment in the power sector. But critics argue that increasing tariffs without addressing the chronic issues of poor service, estimated billing, and infrastructural failure is simply unacceptable.

In Kwara and beyond, the protest led by masquerades may just be a sign of more creative resistance to come. Already, community groups in other parts of the country have begun planning their own demonstrations, with some hinting at the use of traditional figures and cultural symbols to dramatize their message.

For many, the protest in Ilorin was not just about power supply — it was about power in its purest form: the power of people to rise, to speak, to demand better. The image of masquerades leading a crowd of fed-up citizens through the streets is likely to linger in the national consciousness for some time, a powerful reminder that when economic policies fail the people, even the most sacred traditions may rise in defiance.

By evening, as the drummers faded and the masquerades retreated into the shadows, residents reflected on the day’s events with a mix of pride and anxiety. There was no immediate promise of change, but there was hope that their voices had been heard — that perhaps, for once, tradition and protest had joined forces loud enough to break through the walls of bureaucracy.

Only time will tell if the protest will yield tangible results. But one thing is clear: in Kwara State, and perhaps soon across the nation, the call for justice and affordability is echoing not just from the mouths of citizens, but from the drums and steps of spirits past — demanding, as they always have, that those in power listen.