The Economics Of Akara, Corn And Kulikuli: Why Nigerians Should Stop Mocking Remi Tinubu

When Mrs Remi Tinubu, the wife of the President, suggested that women could use small grants to start businesses such as akara frying, corn roasting and kulikuli production, she probably did not anticipate the immediate floodgate of mockery and harsh ridicule that would follow.

Middle-class columnists, social media stars and urban opinion makers rejected the suggestion as primitive, uninspiring and out of touch with the realities of modern economic aspiration. Memes popped up. Cartoons multiplied. Digital spaces exploded with mock images of the First Family frying bean cakes and roasting maize.
But behind the mockery is an uncomfortable question: are we laughing at Mrs Tinubu’s suggestion, or are we laughing at the millions of Nigerians whose daily survival depends on exactly such enterprises? Maybe it is time to separate economic reality from social vanity.

Nigeria faces today not inflation or unemployment but a structural poverty problem in a country of more than 200 million people. In such an economy small enterprises are not just economic hobbies, they are in real terms economic shock absorbers.

The woman frying akara at a roadside kiosk is not just frying bean cakes; she is part of a value chain. Beans are grown by farmers. They are distributed by traders. Millers process ingredients. Transporters carry freight. Retailers create end-value. The sale of each tray of akara supports many lives. Same goes for roasted corn and making kulikuli.

These are not signs of backwardness. They are part of what economists call Fast Moving Consumer Goods (FMCGs) – products with constant demand, rapid turnover and immediate cash flow. These are daily liquidity producing businesses, unlike many white-collar ventures that require long gestation periods and large capital. That is the reason they are resilient.

Many of Nigeria’s celebrated entrepreneurs began with businesses no more sophisticated than food retail, street commerce or cottage production.

What is sometimes forgotten in modern economic discourse is that capital accumulation often begins in small ways.

One of the great myths in public policy is that empowerment must always look sophisticated to be meaningful.

For years governments at all levels have had highly publicized “youth empowerment” programs. Young people are gathered in stadiums and conference halls. They receive certificates in digital marketing, entrepreneurship, shoemaking, fish farming, coding, photography, branding and dozens of trendy skills. The TV cameras are rolling. Political speeches are given. Photos are snapped. Then come the social media campaigns.

Then the participants go home with starter packs, token stipends or equipment that is insufficient to set up sustainable ventures.

Many of those beneficiaries are back on unemployment quietly months later. What is left is optics, not enterprise.

The political value derived from these programmes often exceeds the economic value delivered.

Mrs Tinubu’s statement, elegantly phrased or not, confronts this culture of empowerment theatricals.

Her case seems to be built on a simple economic fact: Money beats political drama.

Getting a certificate for “advanced entrepreneurship” with no capital is not very dignified, but making a profit every day by selling something people actually want to buy is very dignified.

In fact the informal sector is one of the biggest employers in Nigeria, exactly because it rewards pragmatism.

Akara doesn’t need imported technology. Roasted corn has no dependency on foreign exchange. Kulikuli making doesn’t wait for venture capital.

These are local, accessible, scalable and culturally embedded businesses.

Starting with one frying stand, a woman can eventually hire helpers, open more outlets, supply schools and events, diversify into beverages and household products, and become a distributor. All successful and established businesses started out as small businesses.

The world language of SMEs (Small and Medium Enterprises) is there because economies understand that big industries don’t fall from the sky. The big corporations of today started out as small ventures.

The risk in ridiculing microenterprise is that society begins to romanticise visibility and despise productivity.

The hard truth is not everyone is going to be a tech founder. Not all will be able to create a multinational. Not every empowerment program needs to produce software developers.

A healthy economy needs traders, processors, manufacturers, retailers and service providers of every size.

This is not a case against sophisticated empowerment. There is no argument that Nigeria should invest in technology, manufacturing, vocational excellence and industrial growth.

The woman frying akara is not competing with innovation, she is innovating at her level. Economic dignity should never be based on how Instagram-able a business looks.

If a small grant can turn into sustainable income, employ neighbours and keep a household afloat, then this enterprise deserves respect, not ridicule.

Mrs Remi Tinubu may have accidentally hit a national raw nerve. But in economies under stress, modest enterprise is no disgrace. That’s life.

And quite often, survival is the first step to prosperity.