Nigeria today sits at a troubling crossroads where official statistics clash with the bitter truth of daily survival. Each month, the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) and the Federal Ministry of Finance release inflation figures, suggesting a country navigating economic turbulence with resilience.
Yet, in kitchens across the nation, in the weary sighs of market women, and in the hollowed eyes of hungry children, a harsher reality emerges: empty pots don’t lie. Hunger, not percentages, is Nigeria’s truest inflation index.
In May 2023, the new government that took over promised bold reforms to “reset” Nigeria’s struggling economy.
The administration swiftly removed fuel subsidies, unified exchange rates, and pledged fiscal discipline.
On paper, these moves were meant to stabilize the naira and attract foreign investment. In reality, they set off a spiral of price shocks that Nigerians are still reeling from.
Though, the available official inflation figures suggest an economy “stabilizing.” The Finance Ministry and Central Bank of Nigeria have touted these adjusted numbers as signs of “resilience” and “progress.” Whilst in the markets of Lagos, Abuja, Kano, Imo, and Enugu, where rice prices have doubled and garri has tripled, the story is far grimmer.
At Mile 12 in Lagos, a bag of rice that sold for N35,000 two years ago now fetches over N80,000, and a crate of eggs that once went for N1,200 in 2022 now costs N6,200. Tomatoes, onions, garri, and pepper, all staples of the average Nigerian meal, have surged beyond the reach of ordinary households.
Yet, the food inflation rate in August 2025 was 21.87 percent on a year-on-year basis. This was 15.65 percentage points lower compared to the rate recorded in August 2024, which was at 37.52 percent. The NBS noted that the significant decline in the annual food inflation figure is technically due to the change in the base year. “On a month-on-month basis, the food inflation rate in August 2025 was 1.65 percent, down by 1.47 percent compared to July 2025 (3.12 percent),” NBS stated.
These figures are not only implausible but also insulting to those whose lives have been torn apart by skyrocketing prices. With the realities facing the larger populace, Nigeria must be using another mathematics.
Between June and December 2024, headline inflation climbed from 34.19 percent to 34.80 percent, which is one of the steepest rises in recent history. But by January 2025, after the NBS rebased its Consumer Price Index (CPI) from 2009 to 2024, inflation figures suddenly “eased” to 24.48 percent and further down to 20.12 percent by August 2025.
This statistical sleight of hand may look neat on paper, but it fails to erase the truth:Nigerians spend 70-80 percent of their income on food, and for many, even that is not enough. Food inflation stood at 21.87 percent in August 2025, while core inflation (covering non-food items like housing, healthcare, and transport) was 20.33 percent. Month-on-month, both still tick upward, showing persistent pressure. One may be forced to ask: are the numbers being massaged to protect political narratives while burying social realities?Hunger is not something you can doctor with spreadsheets. The fact is ordinary Nigerians are eating less, skipping meals, and facing unprecedented food insecurity. These are realities no rebasing can hide.
Recently, the World Food Programme warned that more than 30.6 million Nigerians will face acute hunger in 2025, and 37 percent nationwide live below the poverty line. Meanwhile, over 133 million Nigerians are already trapped in multidimensional poverty. For them, inflation is not a statistic but a daily question of survival: will today’s wage buy one meal, or none at all?
When families can no longer afford bread, rice, or beans, official inflation percentages become meaningless. Empty pots have become the loudest, most honest economic indicator across Nigeria.
The titillated figures corrode public trust and widen the gulf between government and citizens. While policymakers in Abuja tout “stability” and “resilience,” protests, strikes, and discontent tell another story. A hungry people, it is often said, are an angry people, and Nigeria’s rising insecurity, urban unrest, and rural despair are clear symptoms.
Markets, not ministries, now dictate the pulse of the economy. Citizens are no longer fooled by polished reports; they measure inflation not by percentages, but by whether they can afford food for their families.
Today, churches are filling a gap left by weak government intervention. In spite of the “good-looking” inflation statistics, these religious bodies, especially in Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt, operate community kitchens where hot meals are served daily or weekly to the poor, homeless, and internally displaced persons (IDPs). Their welfare arms supply food to widows, orphans, and jobless youth, while vocational programs in tailoring, farming, and catering help families achieve lasting food security.
Nigeria’s economy is being narrated in numbers that do not add up. The “available” inflation data may temporarily shield officials from criticism, but it cannot disguise the hunger that gnaws at millions. Inflation is no longer about rising prices; it is about shrinking lives. Empty pots across the nation are now louder than government press briefings.
Until the government confronts the gap between statistics and survival, hunger will remain the only honest inflation index in Nigeria.
*Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos. Can be reached via: [email protected]
