The First Lady Of Nigeria And The Akara Business: Thinking Beyond Ridicule
The recent comment by Nigeria’s First Lady suggesting that young people could engage in an akara (bean cake) business as a means of livelihood generated widespread reactions across the country. Predictably, social media became a theatre of ridicule. Memes, jokes, and sarcastic commentaries flooded various platforms. To many Nigerians battling unemployment, inflation, and rising living costs, the statement appeared insensitive and disconnected from the realities of the country’s economic challenges.
However, beyond the immediate ridicule lies an important conversation that deserves thoughtful engagement. The issue is not merely about akara; it is about how Nigerians perceive entrepreneurship, vocational occupations, and the dignity of labour.
One of the unfortunate consequences of formal education in Nigeria is the widespread assumption that success is tied almost exclusively to white-collar employment. The average graduate often sees professions such as farming, tailoring, hairdressing, or food vending as options for those who could not secure a university education. This mentality has created an unhealthy hierarchy of occupations, where some forms of labour are considered prestigious while others are looked down upon.
Yet, history and contemporary realities tell a different story. Across the world, many successful entrepreneurs began with seemingly humble ventures. Small food businesses have evolved into multinational brands. Street food vendors have become restaurant owners and employers of labour. In Nigeria itself, countless families have been sustained, educated, and empowered through businesses that many people would ordinarily dismiss as insignificant.
An akara business is therefore not inherently demeaning. It requires skill, discipline, and business acumen. A well-managed food business can provide steady income and even expand into a large enterprise. Indeed, there are individuals who make more money from food-related businesses than many salaried employees.
However, the public criticism of the First Lady’s statement cannot simply be dismissed as elitism or an unwillingness to work. The reactions also reflect the frustrations of a generation confronted with severe economic difficulties. Young Nigerians spend years acquiring education, often under challenging conditions, only to graduate into an economy with limited employment opportunities. To such individuals, the suggestion that they should simply start selling akara may sound like an oversimplification of a much deeper structural problem.
This is where nuance becomes necessary. Encouraging entrepreneurship is commendable, but entrepreneurship cannot flourish in a vacuum. Small businesses require access to capital, affordable loans, stable electricity, good roads, security, and favourable government policies. A young person who wishes to venture into an akara business still faces the high cost of beans, cooking oil, transportation, and rent. Therefore, promoting self-employment should go hand in hand with creating an enabling environment for businesses to thrive.
The conversation should also compel Nigerian universities to rethink the purpose of education. Higher education should not merely prepare students to seek jobs; it should also equip them with entrepreneurial skills and a mindset of innovation. Graduates should be able to identify opportunities, create value, and adapt to changing economic realities. This does not mean abandoning the pursuit of professional careers, but it does mean recognising that meaningful work can emerge from diverse paths.
Furthermore, society must recover its respect for the dignity of labour. There is no shame in honest work. A nation cannot progress if it celebrates only office jobs while ridiculing productive ventures that feed families and create employment. Ironically, many of the people mocking the idea of an akara business regularly patronise those who sell akara every morning.
The lesson, therefore, is to think beyond ridicule. The First Lady’s comment may have been poorly timed or insufficiently contextualised, but it has inadvertently exposed some important truths about Nigeria. It has revealed our collective anxiety over unemployment, our unrealistic expectations of education, and our lingering prejudice against certain occupations.
Rather than reducing the matter to jokes and memes, Nigerians should use the moment to engage in deeper reflections on entrepreneurship, economic opportunities, and the dignity of work. At the same time, policymakers must recognise that encouraging self-reliance is not enough; creating an environment where small businesses can succeed is equally important.
In the end, the question is not whether an akara business is respectable. Honest labour, in whatever form it takes, deserves respect. The real challenge is building a Nigeria where citizens do not turn to entrepreneurship merely out of desperation but can pursue it as a viable and rewarding choice. When that happens, the discussion about akara will no longer be a subject of ridicule but a reminder that every great enterprise often begins with a small idea.
(c) 2026 Ganiu Bamgbose writes from Lagos.
