Iyobosa Uwugiaren writes that in encouraging Nigerians, especially women and young people, to engage in small businesses such as frying akara or roasting corn, the First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, touched a nerve in a nation weighed down by economic hardship. Critics saw the comment as lowering the aspirations of educated Nigerians who have invested years in acquiring university degrees. Yet, beyond the emotional reactions and political interpretations lies a reality that has defined Nigerian society for decades
When the First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, recently encouraged Nigerians to embrace small businesses such as frying akara and roasting corn, as legitimate means of earning a daily living, her remarks quickly sparked widespread reactions. Within hours, social media was awash with sarcasm, criticism, and heated political debate. The conversation gained further momentum when President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, speaking at a media function at the Presidential Villa on Thursday night, jokingly introduced his wife as “Iya Alakara”—a respected mother who makes and sells akara.
To some, the comment was interpreted as an admission that her husband, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu-led government had failed to provide meaningful jobs. Others viewed it as an attempt to lower the aspirations of Nigerian youths who have spent years acquiring formal education.
Yet, underneath the noise of social media lies a deeper and bitter truth that many Nigerians know all too well. For millions of families across the country, businesses as modest as frying akara, roasting corn, selling pap, hawking vegetables or processing local farm produce have not only sustained households but have also produced university graduates, successful professionals and respected community leaders.
Public affairs commentors argue that sometimes, in our eagerness to score political points, we overlook realities that have defined Nigerian society for generations.
Across Nigeria’s diverse cultures and regions, the story is remarkably similar. From Urhonigbe in Edo State to Ikare-Akoko in Ondo State, from Mbano in Imo State to rural communities across Kano, Katsina, Bauchi, Borno and Kaduna, countless children have gone through primary school, secondary school and university because their mothers woke before dawn to fry akara. Others were trained through the proceeds of roasted corn, groundnuts, bean cakes, local snacks, petty trading or food vending.
These are not romantic tales from a distant past. They remain the experiences of millions of Nigerians today. Long before the phrase “entrepreneurship” became fashionable in government policies and university curricula, Nigerian women had been practising it day after day.
They borrowed small amounts of money from cooperative societies or friends; they bought beans in local markets or salt; they lit charcoal stoves before sunrise; they sold breakfast to workers rushing to offices; they returned home with enough profit to pay school fees, settle hospital bills and feed their families.
Many lawyers, engineers, professors, doctors, journalists, judges and senior civil servants proudly acknowledge that they are children of market women and roadside food vendors. Their stories are testimonies that dignity has never depended on the size of one’s business.
Indeed, there is hardly any Nigerian who cannot recall a neighbour, aunt, sisters, grandmother or family friend whose modest food business became the financial backbone of an entire household. This is why reducing the First Lady’s statement to mere political rhetoric or social media content misses its bigger context.
To be sure, no rational person would argue that frying akara should replace government responsibility to create jobs, improve infrastructure or grow the economy. Government must continue to pursue policies that attract investment, create employment and expand economic opportunities; move millions of Nigerians out of poverty. Indeed, Nigerians deserve an economy where graduates have multiple career options and decent-paying jobs. But acknowledging that reality does not invalidate another equally important truth—that small businesses remain one of the strongest pillars of economic survival in developing countries.
Nigeria’s informal sector accounts for a significant share of employment. According to the latest data from the National Bureau of Statistics, about 92–93% of employed Nigerians work in informal employment. This means that only around 7–8% of employed people are in formal employment.
Employment in the informal sector (excluding some categories or using enterprise-based definitions): Some recent studies, such as the Jobberman Nigeria report produced with the Mastercard Foundation, estimate that 76.7% of Nigeria’s workforce is employed in the informal sector. Millions of citizens work outside formal payroll systems. They are artisans, traders, transport operators, food vendors, mechanics, farmers and countless others, whose daily efforts keep local economies alive. Without them, many communities would simply grind to a halt.
Even in many developed countries often cited as models of economic prosperity, governments actively encourage small enterprises. Family-owned bakeries, food trucks, coffee shops, neighbourhood grocery stores and street food businesses are recognised as important contributors to local economies. Such ventures are not considered symbols of failure but examples of enterprise. Politics outside, Nigeria should not be different.
The irony is that many of those mocking akara businesses today probably buy breakfast from roadside vendors on their way to work. Office workers, bankers, journalists, students, traders and even top public officials patronise these businesses every morning. The same akara that attracts online ridicule has quietly financed school fees, paid rent, built houses and supported entire families.
There is honour in honest labour. This principle cuts across every religion, culture and civilisation. Work, no matter how modest, remains preferable to idleness or criminality. That is why countless parents across Nigeria have encouraged their children to learn practical skills alongside formal education.
The country’s current economic realities also demand a shift in mindset. White-collar jobs alone cannot absorb the millions of graduates entering the labour market each year. Around the world, entrepreneurship has become an essential part of economic resilience. Many successful Nigerian entrepreneurs started from remarkably modest beginnings.
Some began by selling food; others traded farm produce; some repaired shoes; others sold recharge cards. The size of today’s business does not determine tomorrow’s success.
Perhaps the unfortunate aspect of the controversy is how social media often strips comments of context. A single sentence can become detached from a wider conversation and quickly transformed into a political weapon. In such environments, distinction disappears, and outrage becomes more valuable than understanding.
Public figures should certainly choose their words carefully, particularly during periods of economic hardship and toxic political environment. Nigerians are experiencing inflation, unemployment and declining purchasing power. Understandably, emotions run high. But fairness also requires that citizens interpret statements or comments within reasonable context rather than through the lens of political hostility alone.
The First Lady’s remarks can reasonably be understood as encouraging self-reliance, resilience and entrepreneurship—not as dismissing the legitimate aspirations of educated Nigerians. There is no contradiction between encouraging enterprise and demanding better governance. Both can exist simultaneously. Citizens can insist on improved economic policies while also recognising the dignity of productive work. In fact, history teaches that some of the world’s strongest economies were built upon thriving small and medium-sized enterprises.
When students take graduation photographs, few remember the countless mornings spent over a frying pan. But the akara made the degree possible; Nigeria owes an enormous debt to these women; they may not appear on newspaper covers or social media platforms. They may never receive national honours.
Yet they have educated generations of professionals who now occupy boardrooms, newsrooms, lecture halls, courtrooms, hospitals and government offices. Their contributions deserve celebration, not ridicule. As public discourse continues around the First Lady’s comments, perhaps this is an opportunity for national reflection.
Instead of mocking humble beginnings, Nigeria should celebrate enterprise in all its forms. Instead of looking down on small businesses, policymakers should make them easier to operate by improving access to credit, electricity, roads, security and modern equipment. Instead of dismissing roadside entrepreneurs, financial institutions should find innovative ways to support their growth.
The conversation should therefore move beyond social media outrage. It should focus on how Nigeria can empower millions already engaged in informal businesses while simultaneously creating more formal employment opportunities. The woman frying akara today deserves affordable loans, stable electricity and secure markets.
The graduate seeking employment deserves an expanding economy that rewards education and innovation. The farmer roasting corn deserves better rural roads and storage facilities. The young entrepreneur deserves access to capital. These aspirations complement one another.
In the final analysis, Senator Oluremi Tinubu’s remarks have inadvertently reopened an important national conversation about work, dignity and survival. Whether one agrees with every word she spoke or not, one fact remains undeniable: for generations, humble businesses have built Nigerian families, educated children and sustained communities.
Many of today’s accomplished Nigerians are living proof. There should never be shame in honest enterprise. For if akara could educate a nation yesterday, it still deserves our respect today.