How a Nigerian student built a robot receptionist in 1971 and was called mad

Precious Omolu 15:45 - 21 May 2026

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Mudashiru "Muda" Ayeni, the 20-year-old student who built a robotic receptionist in 1971, decades before the rise of Nigeria’s modern tech hubs.

Mudashiru Ayeni built a robot receptionist in Nigeria in 1971, years before modern AI and automation became mainstream, but his invention was misunderstood and dismissed.

Nigerian student Mudashiru Ayeni built a battery-powered robotic receptionist called the Mudagraph in 1971.
Instead of support, school authorities reportedly sent him for psychiatric evaluation because they misunderstood his invention and ambitions.
More than 50 years later, Ayeni’s story is remembered as a forgotten chapter in Nigeria’s early technology and innovation history.

In 1971, long before Nigeria’s startup boom, artificial intelligence conversations and tech hubs in Lagos, a young Nigerian student named Mudashiru Ayeni sat inside his small room working on a machine he believed could change how offices operated.

He was just 20 years old.

With wires, batteries and a small black box placed in front of him, Ayeni built what he called the Mudagraph, also known as the Receptograph, a battery-powered robotic receptionist designed to answer a simple question: “Is the boss available?”

Depending on the situation, the machine responded accordingly. If the boss was around, it said so. If he was busy or unavailable, it gave a different response.

Today, such a system would probably be described as a basic automated assistant or an early chatbot. But in Nigeria in the early 1970s, when many offices still depended completely on manual processes and even telephone answering systems were uncommon, the invention sounded strange to many people around him.

he Mudagraph was a battery-powered device designed to automate office interactions, essentially serving as a physical precursor to modern chatbots.

Ayeni, popularly known as Muda, reportedly loved electronics from a young age and spent time dismantling radios and experimenting with electrical components. He believed machines could help reduce repetitive human tasks and improve productivity.

Convinced that his invention mattered, the young innovator began reaching out to authorities. He wrote letters to school officials and government authorities, hoping to present his ideas and explain how technology could improve administration in Nigeria.

He even suggested presenting the invention to the country’s Head of State at the time.

Instead of encouragement, he was reportedly referred for psychiatric evaluation.

School authorities allegedly interpreted his ambitions and ideas as signs of mental instability. Over several weeks, Ayeni was interviewed multiple times by a psychiatrist before he was eventually declared mentally sound.

By then, however, the situation had already affected his education and reputation.

Reports say he was barred from classes and eventually left school without the recognition or institutional support that could have helped develop his ideas further.

Still, Ayeni did not completely abandon the invention.

After leaving school, he reportedly returned to improving the device, refining its wiring and functionality while continuing to search for support.

At some point, he managed to secure a meeting with late Nigerian politician Aminu Kano, who was serving as Federal Commissioner for Communications at the time.

According to reports, Kano listened to him and encouraged his work. Some businessmen were also said to have shown interest in the possibility of commercialising the invention.

While Nigeria’s tech ecosystem now attracts billions in investment, Ayeni’s story highlights the silent struggles of the independent inventors who cleared the path

For a brief period, it appeared the project could move beyond a small room experiment into something bigger.

Then the story faded.

More than five decades later, little is publicly known about what became of Mudashiru Ayeni. His name survives mostly through old magazine pages, archived reports and occasional social media discussions about forgotten Nigerian inventors.

There are no major public records explaining whether he continued in engineering, left the country, abandoned technology or pursued a different path entirely.

His story has since become a reflection of the challenges many independent innovators faced in Nigeria during that era.

Although Nigeria in the 1970s was expanding universities and discussing national science policies, support systems for young inventors remained limited. The government established the Nigeria Council for Science and Technology in 1970 to coordinate research and development efforts, but opportunities for independent creators outside formal institutions were still scarce.

Unlike today’s ecosystem of tech incubators, startup accelerators and innovation hubs, many young inventors back then had little access to grants, mentorship or technical communities.

Ayeni’s robotic receptionist may not compare to modern artificial intelligence systems, but observers say the invention represented something important at the time, the desire to automate tasks, rethink systems and imagine new possibilities using technology.

His story also raises broader conversations about how unconventional talent is treated and how many promising ideas disappear quietly without institutional support or proper documentation.

Today, Nigeria’s technology sector is one of the fastest-growing in Africa, with startups attracting global investment and young developers building products used across different industries.

But decades before that wave, a young Nigerian student was already experimenting with automation using batteries, wires and imagination.