“The economy is bad! Very terrible!” “Have you been to the market recently?” “Things are very expensive.” “We’ve never had it this worse” “How much is even my salary?” are the most common comments we got from Nigerians when they were asked, “What do you think about the economic situation of the country?” lamentations! Meanwhile, the government thinks otherwise. It says, “The economy is booming. We are doing well”. “The GDP has increased over time.” The question then is, will an average Nigerian be concerned with the GDP increase when they’ve not had breakfast at 1 pm? No, it’s not fit-fam, it’s their income speaking to their stomachs in the language it hopes they’d understand.
Nigeria’s economic story is often told through growth figures released by government agencies or external economic bodies. Recent data from the National Bureau of Statistics in September 2025 shows that the country’s GDP has continued to expand, with growth recorded across sectors such as services and telecommunications.
The report read, “Following the rebasing of the Gross Domestic Product using 2019 as the base year, previous quarterly GDP estimates were benchmarked to the rebased annual estimates to align the old series with the new rebased estimates.”
“This procedure provided a new quarterly GDP series, which is compared to the 2025 second quarter estimates. Gross Domestic Product grew by 4.23 per cent (year-on-year) in real terms in the second quarter of 2025.
This growth rate is higher than the 3.48 per cent recorded in the second quarter of 2024.”
On paper, this suggests expansion and resilience. However, another reality is unfolding alongside it. Are the citizens of Nigeria enjoying this growth?
Humanitarian assessments, including those by the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) and the World Food Programme, project that about 35 million people in Nigeria could face acute food insecurity in 2026.
This contrast raises a pressing question: how can an economy grow while more people struggle to eat?
Why is food insecurity increasing despite economic growth?
As of March 2026, Nigeria’s headline inflation rate rose to 15.38% year-on-year, halting an 11-month disinflation trend. Economic growth does not always reflect people’s daily lived experiences. In Nigeria, growth has been driven and influenced largely by sectors that do not directly improve food access for most households.
Oil, finance, and telecoms contribute significantly to GDP, but they only make up a smaller share of the population compared to agriculture and informal trade, also known as petty trading.
At the same time, food systems are under strain. According to the Cadre Harmonisé, millions of Nigerians are already in crisis levels of food insecurity, particularly in the North-East region and some parts of the North-West. These conditions persist even as national economic indicators boast of growth.
This shows a disconnect between macroeconomic performance and basic needs. Growth is happening, but definitely not in ways that reduce hunger.
Growth is not improving household food access.
Many wonder why these figures do not reflect the standard of living of the people. One major factor to be considered is the uneven structure of the economy. Many households depend on agriculture or informal work. Reports show that up to 93% of the Nigerian workforce is engaged in the informal sector, with 95% of women and 90% of men working in informal jobs — sectors that have seen limited support and high vulnerability. When growth is concentrated in capital-intensive sectors, it does not create enough income opportunities for the majority.
Income levels also matter because even when people are employed, earnings often do not keep pace with the cost of living. The World Bank has noted that poverty rates in Nigeria remain high, with millions living below the poverty line despite reported economic expansion.
In simple terms, growth is not translating into purchasing power. People may be working, but they cannot afford enough food.
Effect of insecurity and displacement on food production and supply chains
For more than twenty years, Hauwa’s (not real name) life followed the rhythm of the farming season. Before sunrise, she would leave her small mud house with a hoe resting on her shoulder and her youngest child trailing tiredly behind her. The farm sat a few kilometres from her village, surrounded by long stretches of maize and cassava fields that once gave the community both food and income.
She knew the land intimately. She could tell when the rains would come just by watching the sky. She knew which parts of the soil held water longer and which crops survived harsh weather. Farming was not just work to her; it was the reason her children managed to stay in school and the only life she had ever known.
However, things began to change slowly. At first, there were rumours of attacks in nearby villages. People spoke in low tones about farmers who had disappeared on their way to their fields. Some families stopped going far into the bush. Others began harvesting early out of fear.
Then the violence moved closer.
One afternoon, while working on her farm with two other women, Hauwa heard gunshots in the distance. They dropped their tools and ran without looking back. By the time she reached home, she was shaking so badly she could barely speak. That night, nobody dared to sleep.
After that day, fear settled over the village. Men stopped gathering outside at night. Parents warned their children not to wander. Farmers began returning from their fields earlier than usual. Some never even returned at all.
Hauwa tried to continue farming. She had no other source of income, and five children depended on her. But each trip to the farm became harder. She could no longer focus on planting or harvesting. Every sound made her stop and look over her shoulder.
The final decision came after an attack on her community. Several people were killed, including the women she used to go to the farm with, and others fled before dawn with whatever they could carry. Hauwa remembers watching families pass through her village barefoot, carrying children and small bags on their heads. Some were crying. Others looked too tired to speak.
That evening, she packed her belongings too.
“I’m a single mother, and I did not have the strength. I did not even lock the door,” she said quietly. “I just carried my children and left.”
She now lives in a crowded settlement on the edge of another town, far from the farmland that once sustained her family. Instead of waking up to prepare for the farm, she spends hours looking for casual jobs to buy food. Some days she washes clothes for people. Other days, she sells firewood in small quantities by the roadside.
The hardest part for her is not just the loss of income. It is the loss of stability.
“Back home, if I farmed, we could eat,” she said. “Here, even food is uncertain.”
Her children no longer attend school regularly. The little money she makes mostly goes toward feeding the family. She misses the quiet of her community, the neighbours she grew up with, and the feeling of belonging somewhere.
Sometimes, she still dreams about her farm. In those moments, she sees herself walking through rows of growing maize again, carrying a basket in one hand and calling out to her children in the distance. Then she wakes up to a life shaped by displacement and uncertainty.
Hauwa’s story reflects the experience of many farmers across parts of Nigeria where insecurity has forced people away from their homes and livelihoods. Beyond the statistics on food shortages and displacement are lives interrupted in ways that numbers alone cannot fully explain.
Insecurity in farming regions has become a major driver of food shortages. Armed conflict, banditry, and communal clashes have forced many farmers off their land. In parts of Borno, Zamfara, and Kaduna states, agricultural activities have been disrupted for years.
Another layer to the problem is displacement. The International Organization for Migration reports that millions of Nigerians have been displaced internally. Many of them lose access to farmland and stable income, increasing their dependence on food aid or market purchases.
When farmers cannot plant or harvest, the food supply drops. Transport routes also become unsafe, making it harder to move goods from rural areas to urban markets. This weakens the entire supply chain and pushes prices higher.
What role do inflation and rising prices play in household hunger?
Food inflation has been one of the most visible pressures on Nigerian households. Data from the National Bureau of Statistics shows that food prices have risen sharply in recent years, often outpacing general inflation.
Staples such as rice, maize, and bread have become more expensive, and for low-income households, which spend a large share of their income on food, even small price increases can have serious effects.
The Central Bank of Nigeria has linked rising prices to factors such as exchange rate pressures, high transportation costs, and supply disruptions. For families, this means having to reduce meal portions, skip meals, or even switch to less nutritious options.
Inflation turns economic growth into a distant concept. Even if the economy is expanding, rising prices cancel out any gains at the household level.
Why are reported economic gains not evenly felt across households?
At the centre of the limitation in the spread of economic gains across households is inequality. Wealth and income are concentrated among a smaller segment of the population, while a large number of Nigerians work in low-paying or unstable jobs, struggling daily to make the next day, in a never-ending cycle.
While urban areas may benefit more from growth in services and infrastructure, rural communities face limited investment. This leaves many farming households without the support needed to improve productivity or income.
Access to markets, credit, and social protection is another important factor. A report by Moniepoint Nigeria says that 70% of informal enterprises have accessed some form of credit. However, the primary source of this credit is friends and family (70.7%), followed distantly by loan platforms (15.1%) and traditional banks (12.2%).
“This reliance on personal networks for financing indicates a significant gap in formal financial services catering to the informal sector and may speak to the difficulty in accessing these loans, coupled with high interest rates that make the idea less appealing for smaller businesses with low profit margins,” the report partly read.
Without these, vulnerable households have little buffer against shocks such as price increases or crop failure. The result is a widening gap between those who benefit from growth and those who do not. For many families, the economy feels unchanged or even worse, and when asked, they will say, “The economy is shrinking”.
Reduced humanitarian support…
Humanitarian assistance has long played a role in supporting food access in crisis-affected regions. However, funding for such programmes has declined in recent years.
The World Food Programme has warned of funding shortfalls affecting its operations in Nigeria. This has led to reduced food distributions in some areas, increasing vulnerability among displaced and low-income populations.
When aid decreases while needs remain high, more households are left without support. This adds pressure to already-strained coping mechanisms.
Could Nigeria be experiencing a non-inclusive growth in the food economy?
The evidence suggests that Nigeria is facing a form of growth that does not include everyone. A very tiny percentage of the populace seems to be at the benefiting end of this growth. Economic expansion is happening, but its benefits are not reaching many households, especially those most at risk of hunger.
Inclusion in the food economy means more than production. It involves access to land, security for farmers, sufficient and reliable food storage mechanisms, fair prices for farmers, stable income for workers, and affordable food for consumers. When these elements are missing, growth does not translate into better living conditions– it will only exist in reports and papers.
Conclusion
Nigeria’s current economic situation reflects a deeper challenge. Economic growth on its own is not enough to reduce hunger. What matters is how that growth is distributed and whether it improves access to the people’s basic needs.
As food insecurity rises, the gap between national statistics and everyday experience becomes harder to ignore. Closing this gap will definitely require more than strong GDP figures. It will demand intentional investment in agriculture, better security in rural areas, policies that control inflation, and support systems that protect the most vulnerable.
Until these issues are addressed, the reality will remain unchanged for millions of Nigerians. The economy may be growing, but for many households, food is still out of reach.
