There was a time in Nigeria when rice was considered a luxury meal reserved for festive days like Christmas, New Year, weddings, and especially Eid-el-Kabir (the big Sallah), the one that everyone looked forward to.
Growing up in the village, even for those of us who farmed rice, we hardly ate it. We preferred to sell what we harvested just to meet other household needs. It was not because rice was scarce, but because life was economically tough. Ordinary Nigerians could barely afford it.
This memory came rushing back to me after watching a video of Seun Kuti, one of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti’s sons, recounting how his father lamented the hardship of the 1970s. Fela, the musical prophet of his time, spoke of the people’s suffering even when the naira was one to the dollar, and a litre of petrol cost only 22 kobo. He mentioned that bread, akara, dodo, and oranges were sold for mere kobo, yet ordinary Nigerians still could not afford them.
That revelation should remind us of something: hardship is not new. Even when the exchange rate looked “perfect” and inflation was low, the average Nigerian still struggled to survive. What we often fail to do today is to place our complaints in proper historical context. We lament without asking: how were things back then?
When people say that Nigeria has progressively failed, I often disagree. Alhaji Tanko Yakasai, now in his 90s, once said that Nigeria has made progressive success and he was right. He has lived through colonial times, independence, military regimes, and now democracy. His perspective carries the weight of history.
Our population then was barely 60 million; today, according to the United Nations, it stands at over 237 million. Yet, money circulates far more now than it did decades ago. In the 1990s, many civil servants earned between ₦2,000 and ₦3,000 monthly. By comparison, any government today paying less than ₦70,000 as minimum wage has failed in its duty to its people.
Government workers who are still being paid below this threshold deserve to protest until something is done and any governor responsible should be impeached for insensitivity and negligence.
I recall leading a student protest during my secondary school days because our parents, who were civil servants, were owed eight months’ salary. School fees then were ₦35, and many students dropped out simply because their parents were not paid. Fast forward to today: I visited Paduma Primary School in Asokoro, Abuja, a government school where fees are ₦3,700. Remarkably, over half of the pupils had paid within the first month of resumption.
To broaden this reflection, a small research was recently conducted in Afon, Asa Local Government Area of Kwara State, one of the rural communities where poverty remains visible. Residents there were asked when last they ate rice at home.
The responses were telling: two households said they last ate rice ten days ago, another said two months ago, while two others said eight days ago. Their current school fees tell another story ₦450 for primary school and ₦1,500 for secondary school, compared to the ₦35 we paid in my time.
To me, this shows progress, not decline. Yes, the cost of living is high, but so are earnings, access, and opportunities. Those days, most compounds in urban areas had only two or three households with television sets. We used to gather to watch films in a neighbour’s house. Today, even in villages, it is common to see multiple TVs, generators, and smartphones.
Sociologically, as societies develop, new problems arise it is part of what scholars call “functional challenges.” Development exposes issues that were once hidden, but it also creates capacity for solutions. Our present challenges are therefore not signs of failure, but of transition and growth.
So, when we hear people romanticize the past “When dollar was one naira, life was better” we must ask: better for who? Fela sang about hunger, hardship, and injustice during that so-called golden era. The truth is that poverty existed then as it does now, only in different forms.
Those of us who lived through the 1980s and 1990s know that rice was a meal we waited a whole year or months to eat. Today, even in rural areas, many families eat it once or twice a week. That is not failure; that is movement.
What Nigeria needs now is not nostalgia, but perspective. Our problems did not start yesterday, and our progress did not stop either. We are still evolving and in many ways, better off than we were.
History teaches us that nations survive not by lamentation but by reform. Nigeria is evolving and the same resilience that once made us wait months to taste rice can now help us demand better governance. If leaders refuse to listen, the people must rise, for silence has never built a nation.
Bamidele Atoyebi national coordinator of accountability and policy monitoring and Puablisher at Unfiltered and Mining Reporting.
