At the African Union Summit earlier this year, proceedings were delayed by hours as heads of state trickled in well after the scheduled start. Closer to home, Nigerians hardly flinched when a major political rally in Abuja began almost three hours late, or when a high-profile wedding in Lagos kept guests waiting until nightfall. For many, this is familiar. For outsiders, it is frustrating. To them, “African Time” is proof of inefficiency. To us, it is cultural—part excuse, part endurance, and part reality.
But lateness is not simply laziness. It has roots in history, community, and circumstance. And as Nigeria increasingly partners with the global stage, the tension between clock-based punctuality and relationship-based time demands fresh reflection.
Why we arrive late
In many African communities, time is measured less by the hour and more by human presence. A meeting begins not at 5:00 p.m., but “when people have gathered.” The heart of time here is relational: the arrival of others, the warmth of greetings, the rhythm of conversation. In this view, punctuality is not about the clock—it is about connection.
Infrastructure deepens the challenge. Poor roads, unpredictable traffic, and unreliable public transport regularly disrupt even the best intentions. Add to this the multiple roles Nigerians juggle—work, caregiving, community duties—and lateness can become less a choice than a survival strategy.
And then there is history. The rigid enforcement of “Western time” came with colonialism, imposed on societies that once moved by sunrise, harvests, and seasons. The lingering effect is a clash between imported rigidity and indigenous fluidity.
Where the excuse ends
Yet we must also be honest: lateness is not destiny. It is selective. Nigerians rise before dawn to queue for visa appointments. They arrive hours early for hospital check-ups. Stadiums fill up promptly for Friday prayers and Sunday crusades. When the stakes are clear and the costs of missing out are high, punctuality suddenly becomes possible.
So why do we tolerate lateness in governance, civic life, and daily transactions? Why do we honour embassies and religious leaders with our time, but not each other? This double standard is the real cultural contradiction—one that exposes how much we have normalised dysfunction where it matters most.
Diaspora connection
It is worth noting that this struggle with time is not unique to Africa. In the United States, African Americans speak of “Colored People Time” (CPT), a phrase historically used—sometimes jokingly, sometimes critically—to describe lateness within Black communities. Like “African Time,” it has often been weaponized as a stereotype. Yet CPT, too, emerged from cultural and structural realities: communities shaped by centuries of marginalisation, juggling multiple responsibilities, and redefining punctuality around people rather than clocks. Placing African Time alongside CPT reminds us that this is not a mark of African deficiency, but a diasporic challenge—and an opportunity to rethink how all societies define efficiency, respect, and presence.
Frustration Vs enrichment
To global partners, our lateness signals disorganisation, costing us credibility in diplomacy and trade. They interpret delay as disrespect. But African Time also forces the world to reckon with its own rigidity. In cultures where efficiency is measured solely by speed, the African insistence on connection over the clock is a critique in itself: what good is a meeting that starts on time if it leaves people behind?
Perhaps the challenge is not to abandon African Time, but to refine it—to bring the richness of communal presence into harmony with the discipline of punctuality. Efficiency need not erase empathy. Empathy need not excuse inefficiency.
Way forward
If Nigeria is to lead Africa into the future, we must strike this balance. That means:
● Starting political events and government functions on time sends the message that citizens’ time is valuable.
● Building transport and infrastructure that enable punctuality as a realistic choice.
● Cultivating cultural pride without weaponising it as an excuse for carelessness.
● Training leaders to blend relational presence with global standards of efficiency.
Closing: Time as respect
If we can rise before dawn for visas, arrive hours early for hospital check-ups, and fill stadiums promptly for worship, then lateness is not our nature. It is our choice. And when it comes to nation-building, every late start is more than an inconvenience—it is disrespectful to the citizens whose lives depend on timely decisions.
Nigeria deserves a new culture of time. One that honours both presence and punctuality. One that tells the world: we can keep time without losing soul.
Because at the end of the day, time is not just about hours. It is about respect—for ourselves, for each other, and for the future we hope to build.
.Ukoh, an alumnus of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, and PhD student at Columbia University, writes from New York.
