…An exclusive conversation with Samuel Alogo
By Tunde Ajasa
In a modest office tucked away in Abuja’s emerging tech district, the walls are lined not with awards or degrees, but with whiteboards scrawled with diagrams—flowcharts of logistics systems, drawings of robotic components, and notes in both English and Hausa. This is where Samuel Idoko Alogo spends most of his time—not in the boardrooms of multinational companies, but in the trenches of design, strategy, and field implementation. A quiet force in Nigeria’s emerging technology landscape, Alogo has made a name for himself by building artificial intelligence and robotics tools not for elite companies, but for the backbone of the country: small businesses, farmers, transport operators, and young people who have been historically excluded from the promise of innovation.
When we met for this exclusive interview, it was immediately clear that Alogo is not the kind of technologist who hides behind buzzwords or code. His language is grounded, his pace deliberate. He speaks of “efficiency” and “systems thinking,” but also of “dignity” and “equity.” His current mission—perhaps the most ambitious of his career so far—is to bring the power of AI and robotics to Nigeria’s underserved regions, bridging the digital divide by designing technology that speaks the language of the streets, not just the screens.
We began by discussing his recently launched initiative in Sokoto, Bauchi, and Kogi States—a grassroots robotics and AI training program for secondary school students, market youth, and local technicians. For Alogo, the idea was not just to introduce cutting-edge technology to rural Nigeria, but to rewrite the national narrative about where innovation comes from. In his words, “Talent is everywhere, but opportunity is not. I’ve met kids in Sokoto who, given a chance, would build machines that rival anything coming out of Silicon Valley. We just have to stop seeing them as beneficiaries and start seeing them as creators.”
He described the excitement of students watching a basic robot follow a programmed path for the first time—the awe, the curiosity, the pride. But he also spoke of the structural neglect that has denied such opportunities to entire generations. For Alogo, this isn’t a side project; it’s a national imperative. If Nigeria is to remain competitive in a world increasingly driven by automation and data, then its innovation infrastructure must reach beyond Lagos and Abuja. It must include the mechanic’s son in Kogi, the tailor’s daughter in Bauchi, and the orphan with a sharp mind in Sokoto.
Turning the conversation toward logistics, Alogo explained his work developing AI-powered routing and fleet automation systems now in use in Abuja, Lagos, and Ibadan. These tools, designed specifically for Nigeria’s chaotic transport terrain, are helping delivery companies cut fuel costs, optimize routes, and reduce delivery delays by up to 40%. He explained how his system integrates live road data, fuel availability, and vehicle conditions to recommend the best possible routes in real time. “What we’ve built isn’t Google Maps,” he smiled. “It’s Nigeria Maps—trained by Nigeria’s conditions, informed by Nigeria’s constraints.”
Yet it was when we began discussing SMEs that his tone deepened into something more personal. His flagship AI supply chain platform, now being used by traders in Alaba and FMCG distributors in Ilorin, was born from countless conversations with shop owners who simply wanted to run their businesses better. Many of them had never used software before. Some could barely afford smartphones. Still, they craved structure—ways to predict stock needs, track deliveries, understand customer demand. Alogo’s platform does just that. With simple dashboards, intuitive interfaces, and local language support, it gives these entrepreneurs something more powerful than automation—it gives them foresight.
I asked if he worried about the narrative that AI and robotics would replace jobs. He shook his head firmly. “That’s a misunderstanding of both the problem and the solution. The real threat isn’t automation—it’s stagnation. Most of the jobs we’re afraid of losing are not sustainable to begin with. Repetitive, dangerous, mentally draining. What I want to do is automate what machines should do, so humans can do what only they can—solve, create, connect.” He offered an example from a factory in Ogun where his robotics platform was deployed. Workers who previously lifted 20-kilogram cartons eight hours a day are now operating smart conveyors and learning to analyze production data. “We’re not taking jobs away,” he said, “we’re giving workers better jobs.”
Throughout the conversation, one theme emerged over and over again: accessibility. Alogo is obsessed with it—not just in terms of pricing, but in mindset. His tools are designed to work offline. His training sessions are built for people with no prior tech experience. He hires locally. He documents in plain language. He believes that technology that cannot be understood cannot be trusted, and if it cannot be trusted, it cannot be used meaningfully.
As the interview wound down, I asked what his long-term vision was. He paused, leaned forward slightly, and said, “I want a Nigeria where a girl in Gombe can train a supply chain algorithm on her mother’s rice distribution business. Where a boy in Makurdi can fix and reprogram his own factory robot. Where we stop thinking we have to import intelligence, and realize we already have it—we just need to activate it.” That vision, grounded in realism but propelled by relentless belief, is what makes Samuel Alogo such a rare figure in the tech space. He is not building tech for admiration. He is building it for adoption, for application, and for people who have been told—explicitly or implicitly—that the future is not for them.
In a country as complex, vibrant, and divided as Nigeria, building inclusive technology is no easy feat. But in Samuel Alogo’s world, the future isn’t a shiny showroom. It’s a market stall that doesn’t run out of stock. It’s a farm that knows when to harvest. It’s a school where a robot built from scraps inspires a child to dream.
And perhaps, in that quiet dream, Nigeria’s digital destiny begins to take shape—not at the margins, but from the very center of its people.