Abuja Mornings: The Little Things That Make This City Worth It

There’s something about Abuja before 8 a.m, the air feels lighter, like it hasn’t yet picked up the weight of the day. The roads are still polite, the sun is soft, the sky, a little undecided; and in those few short hours — between sleep and stress — I find something rare in this city:

I don’t always have money. I don’t always have answers. But on mornings like this, I have breath. I have silence. I have one more shot to try again.

Andrew E.

Peace.

☀️ What Mornings Gave Me That Even Sundays Didn’t

There’s a woman near my junction who makes roadside tea. No signboard, no menu. Just her hands, her smile, and the smell of hope and Nescafé.

I once sat there with just ₦200 and a heavy heart. She added extra bread. Said nothing else.

It hit me: Abuja is not always kind — but sometimes, it’s tender in ways you don’t expect.

🚶🏾‍♀️ A City That Moves Fast, But Starts Gently

Most people know Abuja for power plays, overpriced shawarma, or hard-to-get jobs. But there’s a quieter side — if you’re willing to catch it before the city fully wakes up.

It’s in:

• The guard who greets you like family

• The keke driver who lets you pay later

• The neighbour who offers a lift, even when fuel is ₦900/litre

• The calm before your phone starts ringing

For a few minutes every morning, Abuja shows you it hasn’t forgotten how to be human.

❤️ Why I Keep Waking Up For It

Because in a life filled with deadlines, disappointments, and noise — this moment belongs to me. No one’s texting. No one’s rushing. No one’s performing.

I see my reflection in the tinted bus window and, for once, I don’t feel like I’m chasing anything.
I’m just… breathing. Being.
And that’s a kind of success no CV can capture.