Picture her reaching for the gas cylinder, turning the knob, and waiting for the flame that may or may not come. For millions of Nigerian households, that small, anxious moment is a daily reality, and it sits right at the center of a much larger conversation about how gas policy actually lands in people's lives.
Gas policy in Nigeria rarely makes the front page in human terms. It tends to live in ministerial briefings and industry reports, far from the kitchens where its effects are felt most directly. But the gap between policy on paper and policy in practice is widest in places like Lagos, where women are often the first to absorb the cost of any disruption, whether that means switching to kerosene, borrowing a neighbor's burner, or simply cooking less.
The woman in that kitchen is not a statistic. She is the clearest measure of whether any energy policy is working. When the gas flows and the price is manageable, dinner happens. When it does not, something else gives, and it is rarely the things policymakers are watching.
That is the question worth sitting with: who gets to decide what a successful gas policy looks like, and are those people anywhere near a kitchen when they do?
Originally published by BusinessDay.