Data is not palm wine: Stop collecting what you can’t handle

Every business in Nigeria now claims to be “data-driven”. It’s the new corporate fashion accessory. If you don’t mention data or AI at least twice in a meeting, some people look at you like you’re still running your company with biro and carbon paper. The problem is that most of the people shouting about data have absolutely no idea what they’re doing with it.
There’s this dangerous belief spreading through boardrooms that the more data you collect, the more valuable your business becomes. It sounds smart. It is not. Nigerian companies are piling up customer data the same way some people pile up plastic bags at home — no plan, no system, just vibes. And then they’re shocked when it becomes a problem.
Let’s be honest: most of the data being collected here is junk. Old phone numbers, emails that bounce, duplicate entries, half-completed forms, random scraps from apps and websites — yet companies store all of it like it’s gold. Meanwhile, the real gold — the discipline to manage it properly — is nowhere to be found.
Everyone is chasing “opportunity” but pretending they can’t see the risk. The risk is not subtle. It’s standing in broad daylight waving both hands. But because risk feels like work, and opportunity feels like bragging rights, too many decision-makers choose the easy story instead of the true one.
I’ve seen businesses gather personal information they don’t need, have no purpose for, and absolutely cannot protect. I’ve seen teams build dashboards simply because someone said “we need analytics”, even though nobody understands the charts. And I’ve seen executives nod along to technical explanations they clearly don’t follow, just to avoid looking uninformed.
Then when something goes wrong — a breach, a leak, an embarrassing system failure — everybody suddenly becomes philosophical. “It was unforeseen.” “It was a technical glitch.” “It could happen to anyone.” No. It happened because you were careless.
Data isn’t oil. It’s not free. It’s not infinite. And it certainly isn’t harmless. Every piece of information you collect is a responsibility. You have to store it, secure it, manage it, and justify it. If you can’t do that, you have no business handling it in the first place.
Here’s the part Nigerian businesses need to hear clearly: trust is now a currency. Customers are tired. They are tired of apps asking for ridiculous permissions. Tired of services demanding their full biography. Tired of companies treating their personal details like party souvenirs. And when trust disappears, it’s almost impossible to win back.

If you want to avoid disaster, the rules are simple.
First: Stop collecting data just because it feels powerful. Collect only what you need. If you can’t explain the purpose without sounding confused, drop it.

Second: Secure what you have. Not with hope, not with prayer — with actual security practices. If you can afford an SUV convoy and a marble reception area, you can afford proper cybersecurity.

Third: Reduce access. In many companies, half the staff can see customer data for no sensible reason. That’s not empowerment; that’s negligence.

Fourth: Do not copy what you see in Silicon Valley. You do not have their infrastructure, their regulatory environment, or their safety nets. What works there may get you fined, exposed, or disgraced here.
Fifth: Ask grown-up questions. What data do we truly need? Why? How long should we keep it? Who should have access? What happens if something goes wrong? If your leadership cannot answer these without outsourcing their brains to consultants, you have work to do.
The truth is simple: Nigerian businesses don’t need more data. They need more discipline. They need less “collect everything” and more “think first”. They need fewer slogans and more common sense.
Data is not palm wine. You can’t just gather it in large quantities and hope it turns out well. If you can’t handle it, don’t collect it. If you don’t understand it, don’t pretend. And if you want to build real opportunity, start by reducing the number of careless decisions waiting to blow up.
That is how Nigerian businesses will survive the next decade — not through noise, but through sense.

Michael Irene

Michael Irene, CIPM, CIPP(E) certification, is a data and information governance practitioner based in London, United Kingdom. He is also a Fellow of Higher Education Academy, UK, and can be reached via moshoke@yahoo.com; twitter: @moshoke