Akara, Kuli-Kuli and the politics of empowerment, By Godswill Iyoha Iyoke

The public reaction to the First Lady’s remarks has been shaped less by what she said than by who said it and the broader political climate in which the comments were made.

Most Nigerians do not consider frying akara, making kuli-kuli or roasting corn—occupations through which many of our mothers and countless women have raised families—to be degrading or insignificant. On the contrary, these are honest means of livelihood that deserve respect.

The criticism, therefore, is not directed at these occupations themselves. It stems from what many perceive as the disconnect between official rhetoric and the daily realities confronting small business owners. Political leaders frequently celebrate petty entrepreneurship while appearing reluctant to confront the structural challenges that make such businesses difficult to establish, sustain and grow.

As First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu inevitably embodies the political establishment of which she is a prominent member. Fairly or unfairly, her public statements are viewed through that prism. Over the years, Nigerians have watched countless political gatherings marked by elaborate ceremonies, speeches, presentations, entertainment and photo opportunities, yet yielding few tangible improvements in the lives of ordinary citizens. Against that backdrop, even well-intentioned advice is often received with scepticism.

The occasion presented an opportunity to move beyond words of encouragement. Rather than merely urging women to engage in small-scale businesses, the First Lady could also have outlined practical steps being taken to improve the environment in which those enterprises operate.

For instance, she could have highlighted efforts to engage state and local authorities on reducing the harassment of street traders, tackling multiple taxation, discouraging arbitrary enforcement actions and creating designated trading spaces for petty entrepreneurs. She might also have spoken about expanding access to affordable credit, strengthening cooperative societies, improving product packaging, providing skills acquisition programmes and opening new market opportunities for women-owned businesses.

Such commitments would have shifted the conversation from symbolic encouragement to practical advocacy. Women would not simply have been told to fry akara or make kuli-kuli; they would have heard that someone with access to the highest levels of government was actively working to remove the barriers that prevent those businesses from succeeding.

Ultimately, genuine empowerment extends beyond grants, public speeches or appeals to entrepreneurship. It is about creating an enabling environment where honest labour is rewarded, small businesses can flourish and enterprise is not undermined by poor infrastructure, excessive regulation or economic uncertainty.

When political leaders combine words of encouragement with visible efforts to address these systemic challenges, their interventions resonate more deeply. Their compassion appears more credible, their advocacy more meaningful and the public is far less likely to dismiss such remarks as political symbolism or another public relations exercise.

That, perhaps, is the enduring lesson from the debate sparked by the First Lady’s comments. Nigerians are not rejecting the dignity of small businesses. They are asking for leadership that does more than celebrate resilience—they are asking for leadership that makes resilience less necessary.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

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