In wuse, the new money manages old money out of town: Green Zone …

Wuse is Abuja’s restless heart beat.

Its streets – nominated by African cities and cities – bring a certain poetry. They whisper history, while its green features affirm its Nigerian authenticity. Alongside Gaki, Maitama, Asakoro and Central Business District, Wuse constitutes the living nucleus of the federal city (FCC), which converge the strictly intertwined cluster in which the power, trade and culture of Nigeria converge.

Unlike Maitama and Asakoro – whose ghost and silent residences often betray the owners of absent – white is alive – popularly – moves from dawn until midnight well beyond. Here, the medium-high class rubs its shoulders with aristocrats “old money”, public employees with weight, expatriates, diplomats, politicians and discrete business magnates. It is one of the few places of Abuja where MSMES and the retail sale really thrive, not only because people live here, but because they have the purchasing power to maintain the wheels of the trade.

Every road, a crescent and alley is animated. The markets move with shopping centers. Restaurants buzz with chatter: Gym and sports centers are cleaning with evening energy. From the road of the Suya road it is located to luxury restaurants, from technological shops to adapted ateliers, Wuse is not just immobile, it is a living organism.

● The new noise in the city

In the last year and a half, Wuse has undergone a dramatic transformation, as noisy as it is relentless. The rhythm of the change under the Tinubu administration has accelerated something close to a construction frenzy, raising urgent questions about the future of the city.

Paradoxically, this is not happening in empty and non -developed parts of the city. Wuse is already densely built. However, the district now looks like a single construction site. The old, modest but dignified buildings are broken, demolished and replaced with towering squares, sumptuous shopping centers and palatial duplexs that speak in the language of excess.

The most alarming thing is the silent cancellation of the green belts and Wuse’s recreational spaces. These are the lungs of the city, designed to keep Abuja’s general plan breathable. But now, pieces of these green areas are carved, fenced and built, often under the suspiciously passive gaze of the authorities. In a city where once the laws on zoning were sacrosanct, silence seems permission.

● Who is financing the acquisition?

In an era in which the Nigerians openly complain of economic difficulties, when inflation gnaws wages and food prices climb beyond the scope of many, Wuse’s real estate market is inexplicably flooded with money.

Four currents help to explain the flood:

The grains of the Bohari-Coloro era that have accumulated and silently preserved large sums during the last administration are now putting that money at work, in particular in the real estate sector of Abuja, where the activities are both prestigious and inflation proof.

The subsidy manna – A small circle of beneficiaries of the removal of the fuel subsidies of Tinubu found himself flush with sudden earnings. Many park that manna in districts of high value such as Wuse, where land and properties rarely depreciate.

The market without outlet on the sea – for eight years, the FCT has not seen a significant development of new districts. With the scarce privileged land, the rich have turned to the few existing high prestigious areas. Wuse – with its infrastructure, position and prestige – was the inevitable goal.

The effect of the diaspora: a decade of migration of “Japa” diluted the base of the medium -income home owner of Abuja. Many sold properties before leaving. Buyers-specifics rich in cash-to transform, they sell the old structures and reconstruct in personal taste.

The most controversial underground current is political. The accusations abound that the green areas are rented or sold to “Friends of Government” with the remains of development. While these statements remain unproven, they are repeated quite often in the corridors of Abuja’s power to feel more as a whispered consent that inactive gossip.

● the human cost

This transformation is not only architectural: it is social and is personal.

A rainy evening, I witnessed the families who were expected by force by a condominium who ages Wuse. Their things were scattered on the other side of the road, soaked in the pounding rain. The building that once called the house rose like a sentinel condemned behind them. In a few days, they were rubble. Within a few weeks, fresh bases were already underway: promoting something more new, higher, brighter, but for someone else completely.

These stories are repeated throughout the district. The residents of “old money” of long-date-round of whom they appreciate privacy on display-are constantly replaced by owners of “new money” whose investments concern both status as the refuge. Some call it renewal, others see it as a cultural erosion.

The stakes go beyond the values of the properties. Wuse’s green spaces, its mixed income diversity and its discreet dignity are part of its soul. While the squares replace the fenced parks and duplex move the compounds oriented to the community, the city risks losing not only inheritance, but the social fabric that makes it livable, a loss that would be deeply felt by all those who call Wuse at home.

● The crossroads ahead

Wuse is losing his old skin. The restless brilliance of his present is chasing the quiet dignity of his past, whether it is the wrist of progress or tremor before the decline depends on where you are.
Urban renewal is inevitable in any capital. But the speed, scale and secrecy of Wuse’s transformation raise questions: who can model the future of a city? What price is too high for development? And how much of Abuja’s soul can we exchange before it stops feeling like the city that we built it?

One thing is sure: if the green lungs vanish, if the old trusted networks dissolve, Wuse can maintain its heartbeat, but the rhythm will be different. Stronger. Faster. And perhaps, less human.

■ IROEGBU, a journalist, safety analyst and public affairs, writes from Abuja.

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