A statement I came across on X (formerly Twitter) recently stopped me in my tracks: “It is not what is said but what Nigerians heard.” I couldn’t agree more because nothing illustrates this better than the storm that followed First Lady Oluremi Tinubu’s remarks about empowering women with ₦50,000 grants to start small businesses like selling akara, kulikuli, or roasted corn.
I am not here to defend any public official. But I will defend the truth.
Two days ago, one of my wife’s clients was in our home, cracking jokes about the First Lady’s statement. I cut them off and calmly explained the context to them. I explained that she was addressing the press after a meeting with Governors’ wives on grassroots empowerment initiatives, and that the ₦50,000 was a grant, not a loan. The room went quiet. That silence told me everything.
It is deeply disappointing to watch young, educated Nigerians especially people whose own parents may have sold roasted corn, fried akara or any petty things to pay their school fees, then turn around and mock the very trades that gave them a future. Imagine if those parents had access to a ₦50,000 grant back then. Would it not have been easier to scale up, to survive, to thrive?
The First Lady was not addressing the average Nigerian graduate in that clip. She was speaking to the reality of millions of Nigerian women who wake up every morning without the luxury of a salary, a corporate life. For many of them, a small grant is not an insult, it is a lifeline.
We are living in the era of clickbait, and the algorithm rewards outrage over accuracy. Many Nigerians either did not watch the full clip, or chose not to. Others were simply disappointed that someone of the First Lady’s stature wasn’t announcing something grander. But leadership is also about seeing who is being left behind and acting accordingly.
I have also watched AI-generated videos of Nigerians mockingly frying akara or selling corn circulate across social media. I was not surprised. Nigeria has long cultivated a culture that quietly despises honest, small-scale labour, forgetting that these same trades fuel the supply chains that keep the macro-economy alive.
A few days ago, I helped a friend pack a shipment to the United Kingdom. Half the package was kulikuli and dried fish. That is someone’s hustle, a legitimate, dignified, and feeding a family. It may not be glamorous. But it is honest. Even though I agreed that our economic crisis demands comprehensive, structural solutions. A ₦50,000 grant alone will not fix Nigeria. But it can fix someone’s Monday morning. It can mean the difference between a woman starting something and starting nothing at all.
As graduates, if life corners you into a small trade, your job is not to be ashamed, you ought to find your unique selling point and build something remarkable from wherever you stand. That is infinitely more honourable than internet fraud, exploitation, or any shortcut that trades your integrity for quick cash.
My grandmother sold pap (eko) to raise her children. My uncles, who are my mentors today, did jobs they never imagined just to survive. They taught me to frown at anything that could bring dishonour to our name, and to respect every honest path forward. I carry that lesson everywhere I go.
Petty traders should be respected and the support they’re getting should be encouraged instead of mockery dressed up as social commentary.
Taiwo Alabi is a Lagos-based journalist, PR executive, and digital media strategist with over a decade of experience media and entertainment communications. He is General Manager at ConnectAfrobeats and the founder of HO2 Africa. He writes on media, culture, politics and society.
