Forgotten Dairies
Beyond Akara: An Open Letter to Nigeria’s First Lady on the Reality of the Ordinary Nigerian –By Gambo Zilkifilu Mohammed
Nigerians do not expect perfection from any government. They understand that economic reforms can be difficult and that meaningful change often requires sacrifice. What citizens hope for is the assurance that every naira belonging to the public is managed with integrity, transparency, accountability, and the genuine interest of the people at heart.
Your Excellency, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, CON, First Lady of the Federal Republic of Nigeria,
In recent weeks, a simple roadside snacks and foods such as akara has become the subject of national conversation. What may have appeared to be an ordinary comment about starting an akara business sparked widespread reactions across Nigeria. Many citizens did not respond because they despise hard work. Rather, they responded because the statement reminded them of the widening gap between policy conversations and the harsh economic realities confronting millions of Nigerians.
Across our country, akara is more than fried bean cakes. It represents resilience, dignity, and survival. Every morning before sunrise, thousands of women and increasingly young men light charcoal stoves or gas burners, grind beans, heat oil, and stand beside roads hoping to make enough profit to feed their families. Alongside akara, businesses selling awara, kuli-kuli, roasted corn, fried yam, and other roadside foods have long served as economic lifelines for people with little capital.
For decades, these businesses have offered hope to widows, unemployed graduates, retirees, internally displaced persons, and countless families struggling to make ends meet. They require relatively little start-up capital and have helped many Nigerians survive periods of economic hardship.
However, the reality of doing business today is dramatically different from what it was five or six years ago. The sharp rise in the prices of beans, groundnut, cooking oil, charcoal, gas, transportation, rent, and other essential inputs particularly following inflation and the removal of fuel subsidies has significantly increased operating costs for small businesses. While many vendors continue to work tirelessly every day, a growing number admit that they are merely surviving rather than making meaningful profits.
Anyone who regularly buys akara or awara has probably noticed the difference. The pieces are often smaller than they used to be. Vendors reduce quantity not because they want to cheat customers, but because rising costs leave them with few alternatives. It is one of the many visible signs of the pressure ordinary Nigerians face every day.
Your Excellency, this letter is not written to criticize entrepreneurship. Nigerians have always been hardworking and innovative. They have consistently demonstrated an extraordinary ability to survive difficult circumstances. Rather, this letter asks a broader question: Why should survival remain the national aspiration of citizens in a country so richly endowed with human talent and natural resources?
Nigeria is Africa’s largest economy by population and one of the continent’s most resource-rich nations. Over the decades, the country has generated enormous revenues from crude oil, taxation, telecommunications, agriculture, customs duties, solid minerals, and other sectors. Yet millions of citizens continue to struggle to afford food, healthcare, education, housing, electricity, and transportation.
This contradiction has led many Nigerians to ask difficult but legitimate questions about governance, public accountability, and the effective management of national resources. The purpose of this letter is therefore not to assign personal blame or make unsubstantiated accusations. Instead, it is to encourage reflection on how stronger institutions, greater transparency, prudent management of public funds, and sustained investment in people can improve the lives of ordinary Nigerians.
When citizens speak about akara today, they are rarely speaking only about food. They are speaking about inflation. They are speaking about unemployment. They are speaking about declining purchasing power. They are speaking about parents who skip meals so their children can eat. They are speaking about graduates unable to find decent jobs despite years of education. They are speaking about market women, artisans, commercial drivers, teachers, farmers, and civil servants whose incomes no longer match the rising cost of living. In short, they are speaking about survival.
Your Excellency, every nation is judged not only by the wealth it possesses but also by how effectively that wealth improves the lives of its people. Nigerians do not expect perfection from any government. They understand that economic reforms can be difficult and that meaningful change often requires sacrifice. What citizens hope for is the assurance that every naira belonging to the public is managed with integrity, transparency, accountability, and the genuine interest of the people at heart.
If public resources are consistently protected, if institutions remain strong, and if development priorities focus on ordinary citizens, then perhaps one day akara will once again symbolize opportunity rather than economic hardship. That is the Nigeria millions of citizens continue to hope for. And that is why this conversation matters.
