By Val Obienyen
I listened to the video of the First Lady encouraging Nigerian women to take up frying akara, roasting corn, and producing and selling kulikuli as a way of coping with the country’s troubling economy. I wonder why people are attacking her or making jest of her proposal through words, content creation, and other uncharitable, though sometimes hilarious, caricatures.
I listened to her with the ears of a psychologist and observed her with a psychologist’s eye. I think the woman was sincere. You could see it written all over her face.
For her, just like her agbado husband, that is the solution she genuinely believes in. People expected better and more pragmatic ideas from him, forgetting that nobody gives what he does not have. One cannot rise above one’s understanding or act beyond the limits of one’s capacity.
Her remarks particularly reminded me of the famous story – though of doubtful historical authenticity – of how Marie Antoinette was told that the peasants of France had no bread to eat and reportedly replied, “Let them eat cake.” Whether or not she actually uttered those words is beside the point. The story has endured because it captures a timeless truth: the tragic disconnect that can exist between those who govern and the everyday realities of the people they lead.
That, to me, is what the First Lady’s comments reveal. They do not suggest cruelty or mockery; rather, they expose a genuine but deeply inadequate understanding of the scale of Nigeria’s economic crisis. When millions of citizens are battling inflation, unemployment, collapsing businesses, and rising hunger, proposing akara, roasted corn, and kulikuli as the pathway out of hardship does not amount to an economic strategy. It simply reflects the limits of the thinking available at the highest levels of government. The tragedy, therefore, is not that she spoke sincerely; it is that sincerity, without the capacity to diagnose a problem correctly or provide solutions equal to it, cannot rescue a nation in distress.