Let's be honest for a second.

Nigeria does not have a party problem. If anything, we do that part too well. From a 20-person birthday brunch in Ikeja that somehow ends at 4am, to the full madness of Detty December where over 1.2 million visitors descended on Lagos in 2024 and injected $71.6 million into the economy in a single month, Nigerians know how to show up for a party. We always have.

The problem is not the celebration. The problem is everything that happens before someone gets through the door.

The Nigerian event industry is worth hundreds of millions of dollars and growing. The infrastructure supporting it is still, in many ways, running on vibes and WhatsApp.

That gap (between the culture and the tools that support it) is what this piece is about. Because if you have ever tried to organise an event in Nigeria, or buy a ticket for one, you already know what we are talking about.

First, let's talk about the market. Because this thing is genuinely massive.

Nigeria's event ticketing market was projected to hit $147 million in 2024 and is on track to reach $169 million by 2028. The music events sector alone is worth over $21 million, and that is just the online ticketing slice. It does not account for the full economic ecosystem that events create.

Detty December alone tells the whole story. In December 2024, Lagos generated over ₦111 billion in tourism and hospitality revenue. Hotels ran at 90-95% occupancy. Short-let apartments pulled in another ₦21 billion. The top 15 nightlife spots combined made ₦4.32 billion in a single month. And those are just the numbers we can count. The informal economy around events, the photographers, the decorators, the caterers, the makeup artists, the last-minute dress buyers on Instagram — that is a completely separate universe.

This is not a small thing. Nigeria's event culture is an economic engine. It is a creative industry. It is soft power. The Federal Government has even started treating Detty December as a structured national tourism asset, not just a vibe.

And yet, for the person actually trying to plan and sell tickets to an event, the experience is still largely chaotic.

What planning an event in Nigeria actually looks like

Picture this, someone decides they want to throw a proper party. 200 people, a venue, a DJ, a photographer, maybe a cake and some small chops. Straightforward enough, right?

Here is what actually happens:

They spend the first week trying to figure out how to collect money from people. They post a payment link on their story. They send the link to a WhatsApp group. They send the link again because three people missed it. They chase payments individually. They make a spreadsheet. The spreadsheet becomes inaccurate. Someone who paid says they did not get a ticket. Someone who did not pay shows up at the door.

Meanwhile, they are also trying to find a photographer. They ask their friends for recommendations. They DM four photographers on Instagram. One reads it and ghosts them. One responds and then goes silent after discussing rates. One is available but is suddenly unavailable at the last minute. The fourth one they find at 11pm the night before the event and they pay double because there is no time.

The DJ has a different story. The decorator has a different story. The venue coordinator has a completely different story. And by the time the actual event happens, the organiser has sent over 600 WhatsApp messages and has not slept properly in four days.

This is not a story about one unlucky organiser. This is the standard experience. And most people just manage it (yakubu manage) because there has never been a clear alternative.

The 'yakubu manage' energy is real. Nigerians are expert improvisers. We have been managing broken infrastructure our entire lives. From NEPA to fuel queues to potholes to everything in between. We have applied that same resilience to the event industry. We make it work. But making it work does not mean it is working well.

And then there is the ticket-buying side of things

Let us talk about the attendee experience, because it is its own kind of mess.

You see a poster on Instagram for an event that looks interesting. You want to buy a ticket. The bio says 'DM for tickets.' You DM. The organiser replies six hours later. They send you an account number. You transfer the money. You send proof of payment. They say they will send your ticket. three days pass. You message again. They send you a jpeg of your name on a list. You show up at the venue on the day of the event and someone with a printed sheet of paper tries to find your name.

Or maybe they use a payment link — a raw Flutterwave or Paystack link with no event branding, no ticket confirmation email, no seat information. Just a payment page and then silence. You are essentially trusting that the event is real and that someone will let you in when you arrive.

Or maybe, if you are lucky, the event is on an existing platform. But then you have a different problem.

The platforms that exist, and where they fall short

To be fair, Nigeria does have ticketing platforms. A few of them are genuinely trying. But each one has its own version of a gap that the market has not yet filled.

The global platforms

Eventbrite is technically available in Nigeria. In theory, you can list your event and sell tickets. In practice, the platform does not natively support Naira payments in a way that actually works smoothly for Nigerian organisers and buyers. The UX was built for Western markets. The fees are high. And nothing about using it feels like it was designed for the person throwing a birthday party in Lekki or a sip-and-paint in Abuja. It works, barely, but it does not fit.

The local platforms

Local platforms have made real progress. Some of them have proper Naira payment support, lower fees, and a better understanding of what Nigerian events actually look like. That is genuinely good.

But most of them have built something that serves one side of the problem. They are ticketing tools — good ones, increasingly — but they are not thinking about the full ecosystem of what it takes to put an event together. You still have to source your photographer somewhere else. Your MC somewhere else. Your decorator somewhere else. The platform sells your ticket and then leaves you on your own for the rest of it.

And for the organisers (especially the mid-tier ones throwing events of 100 to 500 people) the subscription models on some platforms are too expensive, the minimum transaction fees eat into revenue, and support when something goes wrong is inconsistent.

The informal market

The informal market (WhatsApp links, Instagram story tickets, account numbers in bios) is still where the majority of event ticketing in Nigeria actually happens. Not because people prefer it. But because it is what they know, it requires no setup, and it is free.

The problem is that it creates no data, no accountability, no real confirmation flow, and no way to scale. Every event starts from zero. Every organiser reinvents the same broken wheel.

The Nigerian event industry has the culture, the talent, the audience, and increasingly the money. What it has been missing is infrastructure that actually matches the scale of what is happening.

What the ideal version of this looks like

Imagine, for a second, that organising an event in Nigeria felt as easy as it looks on the day of the event.

You create your event listing in under ten minutes. Your ticket payment is set up, branded, and working. Attendees get real confirmation. You can see in real time how many tickets have been sold. Your revenue lands properly. And in the same place you set all of that up, you can also find a vetted photographer, an MC, a decorator. People who have been recommended, reviewed, and confirmed available for your date.

And on the other side, if you are the attendee, you open one platform, you see events happening near you, you buy a ticket in two clicks with your card or transfer, and you show up knowing that your spot is confirmed.

That is not a fantasy. That is just what a functional event infrastructure looks like. Other markets have it. Lagos (the city that generated $71.6 million from one month of partying) deserves it too.

This is why we built Plap

We are not here to tell you that we have solved everything. We have not. This is an MVP. We are learning as we go, just like every event you have ever attended probably had at least one thing go slightly wrong behind the scenes.

But here is what Plap is, right now:

A ticketing platform built specifically for how events work in Nigeria. You can list your event, sell tickets, collect payments, and manage your guest list. All in one place. No spreadsheets. No chasing people. No WhatsApp follow ups that are 400 messages deep.

And a marketplace for event service providers. Photographers, MCs, decorators, DJs — people you can find, vet, and book directly through the platform. No more midnight Instagram DMs hoping someone is available.

We built this because we believe Nigerian events deserve better than constantly managing. Not because the spirit of improvisation is not beautiful. It is honestly, one of the most Nigerian things there is. But because organisers should be spending their energy on the event itself, not the logistics around selling access to it.

And because anyone in any city in Nigeria — Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt, Ibadan, wherever you are — should be able to throw a proper ticketed event without it becoming a second job.

The event industry in Nigeria is not broken. It is just underbuilt.

The culture has always been there. The audience has always been there. Detty December did not need anyone to invent the idea of Nigerians enjoying themselves. That has been happening since before the phrase existed.

What is new is the infrastructure starting to catch up. Slowly, imperfectly, but catching up.

Plap is our contribution to that. We are one piece of a much bigger picture. But we genuinely think it is an important piece.

If you are organising an event, or if you have ever bought a ticket through a WhatsApp DM and prayed it was real, this is for you.

👉 Visit Plap . Come see what we have been building.