We Never Seized Her Passport’: Immigration Service Denies Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s Allegation
The Nigerian Immigration Service (NIS) has firmly denied allegations made by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, representing Kogi Central, that her international passport was seized by officers at the airport. The claim, which the senator made via a viral video on social media earlier today, quickly drew public outrage and fueled speculation of political victimization.
However, in what appears to be an attempt to set the record straight, the NIS spokesperson, Akinsola Akinlabi, told Channels Television that the senator’s passport was never confiscated. According to him, the entire situation stemmed from a routine immigration check, which was misinterpreted by the senator.
This incident, which might have been a simple procedural misunderstanding, has now evolved into a national controversy touching on power, accountability, political paranoia, and the credibility of public institutions.
Earlier in the day, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan took to social media to post a short video from the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Abuja. In the clip, she alleged that immigration officers had taken her passport without explanation, effectively preventing her from boarding her flight.
The senator, visibly frustrated, claimed that she was being “targeted” and that her movement was being restricted for political reasons. “This is harassment,” she reportedly said in the video. “They said they’ve been instructed not to let me go. Who gave the order? Why is my passport being held?”
Her post instantly went viral, triggering a flood of reactions from supporters and critics alike. Civil society groups, opposition figures, and human rights activists began demanding explanations from the NIS, with some accusing the government of intimidation.
By afternoon, hashtags such as #FreeNatasha and #StopPoliticalHarassment were trending across Nigerian X (formerly Twitter), drawing attention to the fragile state of civil liberties under the current administration.
By evening, however, the Nigerian Immigration Service had responded — calmly but assertively. Speaking on Channels Television, Akinsola Akinlabi, the service’s public relations officer, stated unequivocally that no seizure took place.
“NIS didn’t seize the distinguished senator’s passport, but rather she went through routine immigration checks and was allowed to travel,” Akinlabi said.
He explained that at airports, immigration officers are mandated to inspect and temporarily hold passports for verification — particularly when a traveler’s identity triggers certain database checks, or when documentation requires secondary screening.
“The officers needed to conduct their checks. They may take your passport to do so, but that doesn’t mean it was seized as alleged,” he clarified.
According to Akinlabi, Senator Natasha may have made her video while waiting for the checks to be completed, giving the impression of a standoff when in reality, the situation was standard procedure.
“She has since been allowed to travel. Perhaps while waiting for the checks to be completed, she assumed she was being stopped from travelling,” he said.
This controversy did not happen in isolation. It comes amid heightened political tensions in Kogi State, where Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan has often been at the center of political and legal battles.
As the first female senator from Kogi Central, she has built a reputation for her outspoken criticism of entrenched political interests, particularly those linked to former Governor Yahaya Bello. Her emergence as a strong opposition voice has made her both a symbol of reform and a target of hostility.
Therefore, when news broke that her passport had allegedly been seized, many of her supporters quickly interpreted it through a political lens — as yet another episode in what they believe is a coordinated campaign to silence her.
In Nigeria’s democratic space, allegations of travel restriction against opposition politicians are not new. From the days of the Buhari administration, when activists such as Omoyele Sowore and former Ekiti Governor Ayo Fayose accused the government of seizing their passports, such claims have often generated intense public scrutiny.
While the Nigerian Constitution guarantees every citizen the freedom of movement, the Immigration Act of 2015 also grants the Service certain powers to restrict travel in cases involving ongoing investigations or national security alerts.
However, the controversy here lies not in the law itself but in its implementation and perception. When a sitting senator — particularly one with a record of challenging political authority — claims she is being stopped from traveling, Nigerians instinctively suspect political interference.
Thus, even though the NIS insists the matter was purely procedural, the damage to public trust may already have been done.
The online space exploded with commentary following Natasha’s claim. Some users expressed anger at what they described as “state intimidation,” while others urged patience and verification.
@NigerianRightsWatch, a human rights advocacy page, posted:
“This is not about politics. Every citizen has a right to free movement. If indeed Senator Natasha’s passport was held, it’s a grave abuse of power.”
Conversely, others defended the Immigration Service, arguing that routine checks were being politicized.
@OluLawson, a security analyst, tweeted:
“Every traveler’s passport can be temporarily collected for screening. Even diplomats are not exempt. Let’s not dramatize this.”
By midday, some senators from the opposition benches had weighed in, calling for an official explanation. There were murmurs that the matter might be raised on the Senate floor, not necessarily to indict the NIS but to reaffirm the principle of non-political interference in civil institutions.
Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s public service journey has been marked by frequent clashes with political power structures. In 2023, she faced multiple electoral disputes after contesting for the senatorial seat against APC-backed candidates.
Her victory, upheld after a lengthy court battle, made her one of the few opposition politicians from the North Central zone to win under a different platform. Since then, she has accused certain government-linked figures of attempting to undermine her work.
In March 2024, she publicly alleged threats to her life after she sponsored a motion calling for a probe into the misuse of federal constituency funds in Kogi. These experiences have shaped her deep mistrust of state agencies, particularly those involved in surveillance and border control.
It is against this backdrop that the passport incident unfolded — and why her immediate assumption of foul play resonated with so many Nigerians.
To put the controversy in perspective, it is important to understand how immigration screening works under Nigerian law.
According to Section 5 of the Immigration Act (2015), officers are empowered to “demand, examine, and temporarily retain” passports or travel documents for purposes of identity verification or compliance with exit/entry requirements.
In practice, this means that even elected officials must submit their passports for inspection. However, prolonged retention or unexplained delays can be perceived as harassment, especially if not properly communicated.
A senior immigration officer, speaking anonymously, explained:
“We deal with thousands of passengers daily. Sometimes, the system flags a name because of spelling similarity or security checks. It’s not personal. But when it involves public figures, any delay becomes news.”
This observation underlines a systemic communication gap: officialdom’s procedural rigidity versus the public’s expectation of transparency.
In the digital era, incidents like this can spiral within minutes. A short video clip — devoid of context — can become a national scandal.
When Senator Natasha’s video hit X and Instagram, several blogs immediately framed the story as “passport seizure,” with little effort to verify facts from the NIS. Within an hour, the narrative had crystallized around state intimidation, even before official clarification emerged.
This dynamic reveals how information ecosystems in Nigeria thrive on suspicion, especially when politics is involved. For the NIS, this episode is a lesson in real-time communication; for public figures, a reminder that perception can often outrun reality.
By the evening of November 4, the matter appeared to have cooled. The NIS confirmed that Senator Natasha had boarded her flight as planned, adding that her documentation was returned promptly after verification.
“She has travelled since then. The video was made while she was going through the checks, not after. The passport was never seized,” Akinlabi reiterated.
When asked whether the senator resisted handing over her passport for inspection, he responded cautiously:
“I don’t know about that, but the officers conducting the checks are authorized to collect passports for verification and must return them once done — which they did.”
This statement effectively closed the chapter, at least from the Immigration Service’s perspective.
In the long run, this minor misunderstanding may serve as a case study in governance transparency, revealing how thin the line is between procedure and perceived persecution in Nigeria’s democracy.
At its heart, the Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan passport saga is not merely about one senator’s travel experience — it is about public trust in institutions.
When a sitting lawmaker feels the need to record herself at an airport, fearing political reprisal, it reflects the fragile confidence that Nigerians have in their systems. When the Immigration Service must go on live television to deny wrongdoing, it exposes a deeper communication crisis between citizens and the state.
The NIS may have been right in its explanation, and Natasha may have been justified in her fear. But the true challenge lies in rebuilding a culture of mutual transparency, where neither side assumes the worst.
Until that happens, every airport checkpoint and every viral video will continue to be a microcosm of Nigeria’s broader struggle — between institutional accountability and political distrust.