Africa's New Kind of Money Laundering

African money is among the dirtiest in the world — literally. Many African central banks simply don't replace notes until they fall apart. In countries torn by war, like the Democratic Republic of Congo or Sierra Leone, years can pass before new notes are printed. In Somalia a few years back, bank notes became so scarce that warlords started printing their own money, causing inflation, predictably, to skyrocket.

Now the continent's most populous country is trying to clean up its currency's act. In recent weeks, the Central Bank of Nigeria has launched a campaign urging citizens to take better care of their money. Advertisements in newspapers, magazines and on television ask Nigerians to "Stop the Abuse of the Naira" and "Handle the Naira With Pride," referring to the Nigerian currency that was introduced in 1973 and originally worth just over $1.50.

The public service campaign may seem unusual, but in many ways it simply reflects the country's desperate economic situation. During the oil crisis of the early 1980s — when Nigeria was awash with petro-dollars and its president boasted to his neighbors that his country's problem was not poverty but how to spend all its money — the Naira was almost worth $2. Since then, though, military rule, corruption and mismanagement have crippled the country's economy and its currency. One U.S dollar is now worth around 140 Naira.

As the currency's value has declined, so has its condition. Many Naira notes are tattered and stained. In the past few years Nigeria's Central Bank has started printing 500- and 1000-Naira notes, which tend to be cleaner. But most 20-, 50- and 100-Naira notes are torn, grimy and full of sweat from being grasped by bus conductors all day or stuffed down the bras of market women working in the scorching sun. One TV ad actually shows a woman hiding some Naira notes in her ample cleavage. "The moisture from the body, food and other fluids allow germs to develop in the notes," intones the announcer.

Many of the advertisements, in fact, make very specific references to unique cultural traditions that tend to exacerbate the problem. "Do not deface the Naira. Do not write on it," one reads. "Arrange your money neatly in straight pockets, wallets or pouches. Our Naira is who we are, and an icon of our neighborhood. Do not squeeze, stain, tear, spray or write on the Naira."

What it is referring to is the fact that Nigerians often "squeeze"— crumple — Naira notes to detect fakes. If a crumpled note thrown on a flat surface immediately starts to un-crumple it's the real deal. "Spraying" Naira is also common at birthdays, weddings and in the thousands of evangelical churches across the country. Generous guests or churchgoers peel off notes from wads of cash, tossing them towards a wedding couple or priest. Tradition dictates that these notes are not picked up until after the celebrations are over, so they are often stomped into the ground.

"We should be neater, of course," says Joy Imobighe, a hotel accountant in Port Harcourt, when asked her whether she supports the Bank's campaign. "The neatness to a certain extent determines the value." And as the unorthodox marketing campaign makes clear, Nigeria's authorities would prefer that the Naira be worth a whole lot more.