Beyond The Akara Debate: The Real Issue Nigerians Should Be Talking About
The controversy that followed the recent remarks by Nigeria's First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, urging Nigerians to consider businesses such as frying akara, roasting corn, making kuli-kuli and engaging in other small-scale enterprises has generated more heat than light. Social media erupted. Critics accused her of trivializing unemployment, lowering the aspirations of graduates, and showcasing how disconnected the nation's leadership has become from the realities confronting millions of young Nigerians. Yet, beneath the outrage lies an uncomfortable truth: much of the criticism misses the central issue.
The First Lady did not introduce Nigerians to the concept of survival entrepreneurship. Neither did she suggest anything that has not been the lived reality of millions of citizens for decades. Nigerians have always demonstrated extraordinary resilience, creating livelihoods from whatever opportunities are available. From roadside food vendors and motorcycle operators to petty traders and artisans, the informal economy has long been the country's largest employer. This is not a phenomenon that began under the present administration. It is a story as old as Nigeria's prolonged unemployment crisis.
Long before the age of social media, university graduates were already selling recharge cards, operating kiosks, driving taxis, tailoring clothes, running POS outlets, baking pastries, roasting corn, frying akara and engaging in countless other ventures simply to earn an honest living. Some became successful entrepreneurs. Others merely survived.
Therefore, to suggest that mentioning these occupations is somehow shocking or offensive is to ignore what has been happening in plain sight for years. The problem, however, is that many Nigerians did not hear the First Lady's words in isolation. They heard them through the prism of their daily frustrations.
In a country battling soaring inflation, rising food prices, youth unemployment and declining purchasing power, even the most innocent remarks can acquire meanings that were never intended. Public trust in government has become so fragile that every statement is filtered through skepticism. This explains why many interpreted the First Lady's comments not as practical advice but as an admission that government has lowered its expectations for the country's educated youth. That perception deserves understanding.
After all, every parent who spends years paying school fees does so with the hope that education will open doors to opportunities beyond mere subsistence. Every graduate dreams of applying years of learning in productive employment that offers dignity, career growth and financial security. When those expectations collide with an economy that cannot absorb its skilled workforce, disappointment is inevitable. It is therefore understandable that some Nigerians reacted emotionally.
But acknowledging these sentiments should not prevent us from confronting reality. There is absolutely nothing dishonourable about selling akara. There is nothing shameful about roasting corn. There is nothing degrading about producing kuli-kuli. After all, this writer has in the past done various odd and menial job to become the Journalist he is today as he was able to combine his jobs with part-time education.
Honest labour deserves respect regardless of the occupation. Across the world, societies thrive because people perform different economic roles. Small businesses feed families, create jobs and stimulate local economies. Nigeria's informal sector contributes significantly to economic activity precisely because millions of hardworking citizens refuse to surrender to unemployment.
In fact, many of today's successful entrepreneurs started with businesses that society once dismissed as insignificant. History is filled with examples of roadside ventures growing into recognized brands. Food businesses have evolved into restaurant chains. Local snack producers now supply supermarkets and export markets. What begins as a modest enterprise can become a substantial business when supported by access to finance, infrastructure, technology and favourable government policies.
The problem, therefore, is not the existence of these businesses. The problem is when they become the default destination for citizens whose education and specialized skills could have been deployed in engineering, medicine, scientific research, manufacturing, information technology, education and countless other professions. That distinction matters.
Nigeria should not despise entrepreneurship. It should celebrate it. But neither should it become comfortable with an economy where university graduates increasingly view survival trading as their only realistic option. That is where the national conversation ought to be focused.
Rather than spending days arguing over whether frying akara is respectable, Nigerians should be asking deeper questions. Why is graduate unemployment still stubbornly high despite decades of policy promises? Why has the private sector struggled to create sufficient quality jobs? Why do many small businesses remain trapped at subsistence level instead of growing into medium-sized enterprises? Why is access to affordable credit still beyond the reach of countless micro-entrepreneurs? These are the questions that deserve sustained public attention.
The irony is that the very businesses mentioned by the First Lady present an opportunity for constructive policy discussions. Imagine if local food vendors had easier access to low-interest loans. Imagine if roadside traders operated in cleaner, safer and better-organized environments.
Imagine if producers of traditional Nigerian snacks received modern packaging support, quality certification and export assistance. Imagine if vocational training, digital marketing and business management programmes were made widely accessible to informal entrepreneurs. The conversation would then move beyond survival to growth.
Government's responsibility is not merely to encourage citizens to work hard. Nigerians have never lacked industry. The average Nigerian's capacity for resilience is almost legendary. What government must provide is an environment where hard work produces meaningful rewards.
This includes stable electricity, affordable transportation, good roads, accessible healthcare, quality education, security and economic policies that encourage investment and job creation.
When these fundamentals are in place, entrepreneurship flourishes naturally. It is also worth remembering that public officials occupy symbolic positions. Their words carry weight beyond their literal meaning. This places an added responsibility on political leaders to communicate with sensitivity, especially during periods of widespread economic hardship.
Sometimes what is intended as encouragement may be received as resignation. Sometimes practical advice may sound like diminished national ambition. Leaders cannot ignore these realities.
At the same time, citizens should resist the temptation to reduce every public statement to a political battlefield. Not every controversial comment deserves national outrage. Some deserve thoughtful reflection.
The debate surrounding the First Lady's remarks ultimately says more about Nigeria's collective frustrations than about the comments themselves. It reveals a society exhausted by economic hardship.
It reflects the anxieties of parents worried about the future of their children. It captures the fears of graduates who invested years in education only to confront shrinking employment opportunities. These concerns are legitimate. But directing all that anger at a statement acknowledging the existence of small businesses risks missing the larger picture.
The real issue is not whether Nigerians sell akara. They always have. The real issue is not whether graduates engage in informal businesses. Many already do.
The real issue is whether Nigeria can build an economy where such enterprises become pathways to prosperity rather than symbols of limited opportunity. That is the conversation worthy of national attention. Everything else is little more than a storm in a teacup.