THERE is a peculiar talent that Nigerian leaders across different administrations appear to possess. Whenever citizens complain about hunger and hardship, government officials often respond with charts, graphs and impressive-looking presentations. When families lament the emptiness of their cooking pots, they are greeted with PowerPoint slides and economic briefings. And when Nigerians ask why life has become painfully expensive, they are told to exercise patience because, according to those in authority, “the indicators are improving.”
Indicators. It is one of the most beautiful words ever invented by economists, policymakers and politicians. The word sounds sophisticated and reassuring. It carries an air of intelligence and technical expertise, the kind of language reserved for conference halls and policy summits. Unfortunately, for millions of ordinary Nigerians, it does not sound edible.
The government now says it wants to measure poverty, income levels and inequality more accurately in order to demonstrate that ongoing reforms are yielding positive results. On paper, that sounds like a sensible and responsible undertaking. Every serious nation should be interested in understanding the true condition of its economy. Yet, ordinary Nigerians cannot be blamed for asking an uncomfortable but important question: can the data be cooked and served on the dinner table?
Can families fry the statistics and eat them with bread? Can they boil the scorecards and serve them alongside tuwo, amala or abaca? These questions may sound sarcastic, but they capture the reality confronting millions of households across the country. For many Nigerians, economic reports matter far less than the daily struggle to put food on the table.
The average citizen is no longer debating inflation rates or GDP growth figures. The more urgent argument in many homes today revolves around whether to spend scarce money on transport or on a bag of rice. Parents who once dreamed about the quality of schools their children would attend are now asking themselves whether they can even afford to keep them in school at all.
Across the country, young graduates armed with certificates and ambitions are no longer carefully planning their careers. Instead, they wait anxiously for phone calls offering any form of employment, provided it pays enough to survive until the end of the month. In cities such as Lagos, Abuja, Port Harcourt and Kano, survival has increasingly replaced aspiration.
This is not pessimism, nor is it an attempt to exaggerate the country’s challenges. It is simply the reality of everyday life for millions of Nigerians. While officials point to improving macroeconomic indicators, ordinary people continue to wrestle with the harsh consequences of rising prices, stagnant incomes and dwindling opportunities.
Government representatives frequently remind Nigerians that reforms are painful but necessary. In principle, they may be right. No major economic adjustment comes without sacrifices. Much like surgery, reforms often require difficult decisions and temporary discomfort in the hope of achieving long-term healing.
However, every surgery comes with one fundamental expectation: recovery. Patients do not remain indefinitely on the operating table while doctors endlessly explain why the operation was necessary in the first place. At some point, improvement must become visible. At some point, the patient must begin to feel stronger.
What makes the current situation particularly frustrating is not the government’s determination to measure progress. Every responsible administration ought to evaluate its policies and assess outcomes. The frustration begins when measurement starts replacing actual improvement and when reports become more exciting than the results they are meant to describe.
It becomes even more troubling when conferences multiply faster than solutions. Nigerians watch as press statements arrive with remarkable speed while relief arrives painfully slowly. Policy forums, economic summits and stakeholder engagements continue to dominate headlines, yet the impact on ordinary lives remains difficult to detect.
Many citizens have therefore become deeply skeptical not because they oppose reforms, but because they have become experts in surviving promises. Nigerians have lived through different administrations, each introducing its own slogan and grand vision for national transformation. Over time, slogans have changed, but hardship has often remained.
The country endured the era of “Transformation.” It survived the promise of “Change.” It adjusted to the ambitions of the “Next Level.” Today, Nigerians are navigating the uncertainties of “Renewed Hope.” Every administration arrives with a fresh mantra and a new set of assurances.
The marketplace, however, operates according to a different logic. While politicians unveil new slogans, traders unveil new prices. A bag of rice becomes more expensive, transport fares rise again, and electricity costs continue their upward march. Between government slogans and market realities, most Nigerians already know which has a greater impact on their daily lives.
Perhaps this explains why official announcements no longer inspire the excitement they once did. Experience has taught Nigerians that glowing economic reports released on a Monday can coexist comfortably with empty pockets on Tuesday. Positive projections do not necessarily translate into affordable food, reliable electricity or reduced transport costs.
The disconnect is stark and often painful. Somewhere in Abuja, officials may be reviewing presentations filled with upward trends, improving projections and declining ratios. At precisely the same moment, somewhere in Kano, a mother may be quietly removing meat from the family menu because feeding four children has become financially impossible.
Elsewhere in Benue State, a farmer worries about whether insecurity or hunger will reach his doorstep first. In Port Harcourt, another university graduate updates a curriculum vitae that has now become older than some secondary school students. Across Nigeria, these quiet struggles continue largely unseen behind the impressive language of economic statistics.
Statistics may indeed improve, but lives must improve as well. Governance was never intended to be an academic exercise reserved for economists and policy experts. At its core, government exists to make life better for the people it serves.
History does not remember governments simply because they produced beautiful reports and colourful presentations. It remembers administrations that built roads people could use, hospitals people could trust and schools capable of inspiring hope in future generations. It honours governments that created economies where hard work was rewarded and opportunity was accessible.
No Nigerian wakes up in the morning excited to admire GDP figures or inflation projections. Citizens wake up hoping that electricity will remain long enough for them to iron their clothes before work. They hope transport fares will not increase before evening. They hope their salaries will stretch to the end of the month.
Above all, they hope tomorrow will be easier than today. That is what progress looks like. It is not merely a chart projected onto a screen, a speech delivered from a podium or another beautifully designed scorecard distributed at a conference.
Perhaps one day, those indicators will genuinely reflect what Nigerians experience in their homes, businesses and markets. Perhaps one day, economic growth will be measured not only in percentages but in fuller stomachs, thriving enterprises and safer communities.
When that day arrives, government spokespersons will not need to organise elaborate press conferences to persuade citizens that reforms are working. Nigerians will already know because genuine progress announces itself. It speaks through affordable food, functioning hospitals, stable jobs and families no longer forced to choose between eating today and hoping for tomorrow.
Until then, millions of Nigerians will continue asking the simplest question of all:
Can we eat the scorecards?
Voice, just cleared its throat!
- Kabara is a writer and public commentator. Her syndicated column, Voice, appears in News Point Nigeria newspaper on Monday. She can be reached at hafceekay01@gmail.com.