I didn’t expect to write about this, but Kunle Remi’s reaction to Ishowspeed’s visit has been bouncing around in my head. It’s blunt, sure — maybe too blunt — and I can see why some people cheered and others flinched. There’s something honest in that kind of discomfort, even if it’s clumsy. So I’ll try to unpack it, and yeah, I’ll admit I’m a bit torn by the end.
First, the short version: Kunle Remi watched Ishowspeed’s trip through parts of Africa and picked Lagos — Nigeria — as the most disappointing stop. Harsh? Possibly. Accurate? Maybe in parts. Overstated? Definitely at times. But the statement did what blunt statements do: got people talking.
What Kunle said, roughly, was that Lagos has been stripped of its deeper cultural value. He pointed to clubs, fake drinks, and people begging as a kind of shorthand for what’s replaced the old, richer things that once defined the city. That’s a heavy claim. It is also the kind of claim that makes you pause and ask, “Okay — what did Lagos used to be, exactly, and what did it become?”
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A quick, messy picture of Lagos
Lagos is noisy. It’s also generous. It’s a place where traffic, markets, music and a hundred small hustles meet in one sticky, glorious mess. I’ve been there — not as long as some, not every corner — but enough to know the city is layered. There are pockets of history: old colonial buildings, churches and shrines, families who have kept traditions going despite everything. And then there’s the other layer: flashy nightlife, new money, international brands, spots that look like they could be in any big city.
Kunle’s comment feels like a reaction to that second layer — the polished, modern side that sometimes erases the first. When he says “we stripped Lagos naked,” I hear frustration: a worry that what made the city distinct is being crowded out by things that are flashy but shallow. It’s a familiar worry in lots of cities around the world. But I also think his phrasing was meant to provoke, and it succeeded.
Culture versus commerce — messy overlap
We tend to slice life into neat categories: “culture” on one side and “commerce” on the other. But real life is messy. Clubs and nightlife aren’t inherently empty. Drinks aren’t automatically fake. People working the streets aren’t purely victims or villains. Sometimes a club is where a young musician first plays their music to a crowd. Sometimes a bar supports a family. Sometimes the hustle on the street is survival, and sometimes it’s artful entrepreneurship. So, while Kunle is right to raise the alarm about lost cultural threads, it’s also true that culture adapts. It mutates. It survives in new forms, even if it looks different.
I’m not defending fake drinks — nobody should. And begging on the streets — that’s a social problem, a sighing mirror of inequality and failing support systems. Those are real issues and worthy of being called out. But the moment you frame an entire city as “the worst” based on what a viral trip shows you, you risk missing nuance. A single visit, especially one edited for clicks and views, can’t fully capture a place.
The role of influencers and perception
Ishowspeed is a performer and entertainer, not an anthropologist. His trip is designed for engagement, not careful sociological study. Viral clips focus on extremes because extremes get clicks. If Kunle Remi’s critique leans heavily on what the camera showed, remember the camera is selective. That’s not to say the scenes were fake; it’s to say they were chosen.
Still, influencers do shape perceptions fast. When a popular foreign creator spends a day or two in a city and posts highlights, millions see a condensed version of reality. That can be useful: it gives exposure, sparks curiosity, and might bring tourists or interest. It can also flatten complexity into a few catchy impressions. Remi’s critique is partly a response to that flattening: he worries the snapshots being spread are lowering our cultural signal-to-noise ratio.
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A bit of personal reaction
I find myself agreeing with both sides in a way, which is awkward, but honest. I agree with Kunle that some areas have changed in ways that are concerning. I also think calling an entire country “the worst” is too broad and, well, dramatic. Maybe that’s the point. The rhetoric provokes action and conversation. Maybe we need that provocation. Or maybe it just stokes division. I’m not sure which is worse.
What could be done — small, imperfect suggestions
If the point is to protect cultural heritage, then a few practical moves come to mind. Support local artists and historians in visible ways — pay for their shows, book them in popular venues, bring their work into mainstream venues. Create protected cultural sites where certain traditional arts are taught and performed. Invest in public spaces where history is visible in everyday life, not only in museums. Crack down on obvious frauds and public disorder, sure, but also offer alternatives so people aren’t pushed into unsavory choices out of desperation.
None of that is quick or easy. And none of it will fully stop Lagos from changing. It shouldn’t be frozen anyway. Cultures that don’t change die. But change with intention — that’s different from change by neglect.
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Final thoughts — messy, as promised
Kunle Remi’s comment landed like a splash of cold water: blunt, uncomfortable, and effective at getting attention. I don’t think it was a careful, balanced assessment — but then, few live reactions are. Still, it’s a conversation worth having. Lagos is not dead, nor is it perfectly healthy. It’s complicated, and the truths about it are many and sometimes contradictory. Maybe that’s the point: people care enough to argue, to push back, to notice. That’s where something can start to change.
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