By Joke Kujenya
SINCE YESTERDAY, few public remarks have exposed Nigeria’s economic anxieties as sharply as First Lady Oluremi Tinubu’s comments that small grants can help women build livelihoods by frying akara, roasting corn or producing kuli-kuli.
The backlash was immediate.
To many Nigerians battling rising living costs, the remarks sounded like another example of leaders reducing a complex economic crisis to roadside survival. But is that it?
On social media, her comments were derided as evidence that those in power no longer understand the scale of the hardship confronting ordinary families.
Yet the intensity of the reaction says as much about Nigeria’s national mood as it does about the First Lady’s words.
Strip away the politics and her argument rests on a principle that has shaped Nigeria’s economy for generations: every business starts somewhere.
Most Nigerians know families that have educated their children through modest businesses such as selling akara, dundun, boli and other everyday foods. For decades, these micro-enterprises have provided livelihoods, paid school fees and sustained entire households.
Long before venture capital, technology hubs and billion-naira start-ups became fashionable, millions of Nigerians built livelihoods through micro-enterprises.
Food vendors, market traders, tailors, mechanics, barbers and roadside artisans have financed university degrees, built houses and supported extended families through businesses that began with little more than skill and determination.
There is nothing demeaning about selling akara
Indeed, Nigeria’s informal economy survives because countless people create value from modest beginnings.
Across Africa and much of the developing world, governments increasingly support micro-enterprises because they generate employment quickly and require relatively little capital.
For people shut out of formal jobs, they are often the first step towards financial independence.
That is the part of the First Lady’s message that deserves a fair-hearing.
The difficulty is that a philosophy of enterprise is not the same thing as an economic strategy.
Afterall, a woman selling akara still buys beans whose price has climbed sharply over the past two years.
She pays more for cooking oil, transport, charcoal or cooking gas.
If customers have less disposable income because inflation has eroded purchasing power, even the hardest-working trader will struggle to grow her business.
This is where many Nigerians felt the remarks missed the moment.
People were not objecting to entrepreneurship itself.
They were objecting to the suggestion – whether intended or not – that entrepreneurship alone can compensate for an economy in which the cost of doing business continues to rise.
That distinction matters.
Micro-enterprises are excellent at helping households survive. They are far less capable of transforming an economy without broader reforms.
Nigeria’s informal sector already accounts for a large share of employment, yet millions of people remain poor despite working every day.
The problem is not that Nigerians refuse to hustle.
It is that too many hustles remain trapped at subsistence level because infrastructure is weak, access to finance is limited, inflation reduces profits and consumers themselves have less money to spend.
The World Bank’s recent assessment captures this paradox as it noted that although current reforms have improved macroeconomic stability, household welfare has yet to recover and poverty remains widespread.
Nigeria has made progress in restoring macroeconomic stability, but household incomes have yet to recover fully and poverty remains widespread.
That means economic reforms may be improving national indicators while many families still experience daily financial strain.
Against that backdrop, the public was always likely to hear “akara” not as an example of enterprise but as a substitute for answers they believe should come from government.
Perhaps the debate has become unnecessarily polarised.
It is possible to accept that humble businesses have lifted millions of Nigerians out of poverty while also insisting that government must create conditions in which those businesses can flourish.
One truth does not cancel the other.
The real question, therefore, is not whether akara can provide an income. It undoubtedly can.
The question is whether Nigerians should have to rely on survival businesses as the primary response to an economy under pressure.
That is where the national conversation should be.
Hence, the First Lady’s remarks reflected an enduring Nigerian virtue: resilience.
The public response reflected an equally legitimate expectation: that resilience should be rewarded by policies that lower the cost of living, expand opportunity and make it possible for small enterprises to become medium-sized businesses.
Akara can be the first rung on the ladder. It should never be mistaken for the ladder itself. That’s the point!
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