In Nigeria, one of the unofficial traditions of Id el Kabir is suddenly remembering all your Muslim friends.
Not necessarily because you have missed them deeply.
But because somewhere in your heart, you believe there is ram meat involved.
So phones start buzzing.
“Happy Sallah!”
“Boss, you dey house?”
“Any plans today?”
Which, translated honestly, sometimes means:
“Please remember me if meat is moving around.”
And to be fair, nobody judges it. It is part of the culture. Part of the humour. Part of what makes celebrations in Nigeria feel communal.
But while many people are preparing to visit family, eat good food, rest, and enjoy the holiday, there is another group of people quietly preparing for something else entirely.
Work.
Because celebrations do not pause the world for everyone.
Someone still has to keep things running.
While many families are sharing meals, healthcare workers are resuming shifts.
Security personnel are still standing under the sun.
Drivers are moving people across cities and states.
Restaurant staff are attending to customers who want to celebrate outside the house.
Content moderators are still reviewing reports. Customer service representatives are still answering calls. Bank workers are still ensuring ATM machines operates without fail. Journalists are still covering stories. Retail workers are still attending to last-minute shoppers buying things they probably should have bought three days earlier.
And somehow, many of these people still manage to smile through it.
That part often goes unnoticed.
Celebrations have a way of making absence more visible.
You notice the family member who could not travel home because of work. The friend replying messages with “I’m at work oo.” The person watching everybody post food online while eating lunch quickly between shifts.
And yet, these people are part of the reason celebrations continue smoothly for everyone else.
Because somebody has to keep the lights on while others rest.
What makes it even more remarkable is that many Nigerians work through holidays without complaint because, for many people, missing work is simply not an option.
According to Nigeria’s National Bureau of Statistics, unemployment and economic pressure continue to affect millions of households, making steady income a necessity, even during festive periods.
So for some people, work during celebrations is not dedication alone.
It is survival too.
And honestly, there is something deeply human about that.
The quiet sacrifice of people who continue showing up while others celebrate.
Not for applause. Not for recognition.
Just because responsibilities do not disappear because a holiday arrived.
Maybe that is why celebrations should also be moments of empathy.
A reminder to be kinder to the dispatch rider delivering your order late in traffic.
More patient with the overworked customer service agent.
More appreciative of the security guard standing outside while everybody else is inside eating.
Because behind every smooth celebration is usually somebody who gave up their own comfort to make it happen.
So yes, enjoy the food.
Laugh loudly. Visit people. Take pictures. Ask your Muslim friends the important national question:
“You get meat for me?”
But somewhere in the middle of the celebration, remember the people still working quietly in the background.
The people whose holiday may only begin after everyone else’s has ended.
Sometimes, they deserve more than a quick “well done.”
Sometimes, they deserve to be noticed too.
Id Kabir,
From Odogwu
