The Big Brother Naija house, once the arena where dreams collided, tempers flared, and millions of Nigerians stayed glued to their screens, has met an anticlimactic end with its latest season, the “No Loose Guard” edition. In what should have been an electrifying display of strategy, drama, and charisma, we were instead left with something less captivating than a Nollywood rerun. The irony of the season’s title, “No Loose Guard,” wasn’t lost on anyone: if anything, the show seemed to let everything slide, from its once-thriving fan engagement to the quality of its famed small chops.
At the center of this dull storm was the season’s fundamental flaw—the decision to pair the 28 contestants into duos. While previous seasons thrived on individual journeys, relationships, and betrayals, this year’s structure stifled any chance for organic tension. Watching housemates wade through tasks as part of a set team—whether they were lovers, best friends, or siblings—stripped away the spontaneity that made Big Brother Naija a reality TV heavyweight. Instead, we endured the reality equivalent of a three-legged race until midway through the show, when it started to resemble an individual competition. But by then, even Ebuka’s stylish agbada appearances on eviction nights were too late to offer any saving grace.
But perhaps the problem wasn’t the format alone. Nigeria, under the fresh leadership of President Bola Tinubu, is grappling with an economic downturn that has seen inflation soar to historic levels. The cost of living has skyrocketed, fuel prices are exorbitant, and job prospects are bleak. With these challenges hanging over the nation, maybe it was foolish to expect Nigerians to care about Kellyrae winning N120 million worth of prizes when they couldn’t even afford to recharge their phones. Viewers may have simply opted out of watching privileged contestants argue over air conditioners while they struggled with rolling blackouts at home.
One of the biggest indictments on the season was the eerie silence that fell over social media. In past editions, Big Brother Naija dominated every corner of Twitter (now X), Instagram, and Facebook. Hashtags trended daily, fan wars erupted over who was cooking Indomie better, and every plot twist was scrutinized as if it were a national referendum. But this year? Crickets. Even the most die-hard fan bases, those legion-like armies of stans who would flood your timeline with endless debates and Photoshop tributes, were uncharacteristically mute. A few ardent fans managed to throw their weight behind Kellyrae and others, but for the most part, the online buzz evaporated into thin air. One has to wonder: was it the new pairing concept that suffocated the fun, or was it the overwhelming economic gloom that forced Nigerians to shift their focus?
It’s not just the online noise—or lack thereof—that signals a deeper issue. The drop in viewership was glaring. During previous seasons, people made Big Brother Naija a communal event—families gathered around the TV, friends hosted watch parties, and businesses advertised through the roof. But this time, no one seemed to care. Ratings dipped, and even sponsors, once clamoring for the show’s halo effect, appeared less enthused. The real kicker came during the finale, a moment that should have been glittering and full of suspense. Instead, the prize-giving day felt as underwhelming as the show itself, topped off with oily small chops served to sponsors—a greasy metaphor for the lackluster season they had invested in.
Has Big Brother Naija overstayed its welcome? It’s a difficult question, but one worth asking. This show used to be a cultural behemoth that pulled attention from all corners of the country, transcending socioeconomic lines. Now, it risks becoming a relic of its former self, a bloated giant staggering under the weight of its own past success. Is it time to go on a hiatus, to reevaluate the essence of what made Big Brother Naija the phenomenon it once was? Or will we see more seasons like this—tired, uninspired, and wholly out of sync with the realities facing the average Nigerian?
Of course, Big Brother Naija isn’t solely responsible for solving the country’s problems. But in times of hardship, entertainment should be a necessary escape, not another source of disappointment. This season failed to do that. It didn’t steal our attention; it barely begged for it. The glitz and glamour, the screaming fans, the non-stop memes that used to flood our feeds—none of it materialized this year.
In the end, “No Loose Guard” was a misstep, not just for the format but for the show’s timing and relevance. If this season is any indication, perhaps Big Brother Naija needs a break. Give us time to miss it. Let the country catch its breath. Then, and only then, maybe the show can return with a bang instead of a whimper.
Until then, Kellyrae’s win will be remembered less for his triumph and more for the fact that, well, no one was really watching. And as for the small chops? Let’s hope they find a way to get the oil off the next batch.
