Nigerian food makers share nuanced responses to Remi Tinubu akara call, blending inspiration with economic realities in street vending culture.
In late June 2026, a short video clip of Nigeria’s First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, went viral and ignited a fierce national conversation. Speaking in the context of her Renewed Hope Initiative; which has distributed grants to thousands of women, she encouraged Nigerians, particularly women, to embrace small-scale entrepreneurship.
“To start akara business doesn’t take a lot of money,” she said, adding that roasting corn or selling kuli-kuli (peanut snacks) “doesn’t take much.”
She emphasized that the support came as grants, not loans, framing it as practical empowerment: “We encourage Nigerians as best as we can… What is within our hands I’ve given. And I keep giving and those are the things we’ve done.”
While the clip specifically highlighted akara (crispy bean fritters), roasted corn, and kuli-kuli, it quickly became shorthand for traditional street foods like moin moin (steamed bean pudding) and ogi (fermented cereal porridge/pap); staples often paired together in Nigerian (especially Yoruba and Southwest) cuisine and daily street vending.
These foods represent not just breakfast or snacks but an entire informal economy of resilience.
The First Lady’s words, intended as motivational, instead exposed deep fault lines about economic reality, dignity of labor, and what “empowerment” means in 2026 Nigeria.
The Spark and the Backlash
Social media erupted almost immediately. Critics, including Arise TV anchor Ayo Mario-Ese, called the remarks insulting to Nigerian women’s intelligence in an era of global industrialization and tech-driven economies.
She questioned why the focus remained on petty trading rather than scalable opportunities that could drive GDP, create formal jobs, and reflect modern aspirations.
Many online echoed this, pointing to skyrocketing food inflation (hovering around 17% recently), the high cost of beans, vegetable/groundnut oil, maize for ogi, and other essentials. Starting even a modest akara setup; beans, oil, frying equipment, location, and daily “taxes” from various quarters, can run into significant sums amid economic pressures, they argued.
Memes and satirical videos flooded platforms: people filming themselves dramatically frying akara by the roadside or roasting corn with exaggerated captions like “On Mummy Remi’s instructions, I have started my akara and akamu business.” Some framed it as promoting a “roadside akara economy” while larger systemic issues (unemployment, insecurity, infrastructure) persisted. Others, like certain public figures, shared old clips or stories to contextualize or critique the administration’s approach.
Defenders, including voices like Reno Omokri and presidential aide Sunday Dare, countered that small businesses offer a dignified path out of joblessness.
They highlighted that many successful Nigerians built empires from humble beginnings in food vending, and grants provide real seed capital where formal jobs are scarce.
Articles praised the “dignity of small beginnings,” arguing that akara sellers, moin moin makers, and ogi vendors embody entrepreneurship through resilience and self-reliance.
How Nigerian Food Makers Are Actually Responding
On the ground, in markets, streets, and kitchens across Lagos, Abuja, Ibadan, and beyond, reactions among akara fryers, moin moin steamers, ogi/pap sellers, and broader food entrepreneurs have been nuanced; a mix of validation, pragmatism, humor, inspiration, and frustration.
Veteran Vendors: Validation Mixed with Realism
Many long-time street food sellers see the comments as affirming what they already know: these businesses have sustained families for generations.
Stories abound of akara or moin moin vendors who educated children through university, built houses, or created employment for others.
One perspective shared widely notes that such ventures are “very good SMEs” that sustain millions, drawing parallels to vibrant street food cultures elsewhere.
However, they are quick to add caveats about today’s challenges: ingredient costs have surged, profit margins are squeezed by competition and overheads (including informal levies), and physical demands are high.
“It works, but it’s not as ‘no cost plenty money’ as it sounds in this economy,” is a common refrain from those in the trade.
New Entrants and Inspired Starters
The viral moment has directly spurred activity.
Instagram and TikTok are filled with reels of people launching or expanding akara/ogi businesses, sometimes jokingly or sincerely crediting the First Lady (“Thank you to Tinubu and Remi Tinubu. I started my own Akara business…”).
Dedicated “OLUREMI AKARA” setups have appeared in posts, with vendors positioning their stalls as responses to the call.
Food bloggers and small-scale producers report upticks in interest, with some offering beans flour for easier moin moin/akara prep or modern twists (like akara waffles or flavored ogi) to capitalize on the buzz.
Humorous and Satirical Takes
Food makers have leaned into the meme culture.
Videos show elaborate or makeshift “akara business” setups with captions mocking or embracing the narrative.
Comedians and everyday vendors post content blending pride in their craft with pointed commentary on economic conditions.
This light-hearted response humanizes the debate while keeping the focus on the foods themselves; crispy akara hot from the oil, fluffy moin moin wrapped in leaves, smooth ogi paired with akara for the perfect breakfast.
Chefs, Bloggers, and Scaling Entrepreneurs
Professional chefs and food content creators have used the moment educationally.
They share detailed recipes, cost breakdowns, scaling tips (e.g., from home kitchen to small kiosk), and innovations that elevate these traditional foods.
Some highlight successful food businesses that began with akara or moin moin and grew into brands.
Others subtly critique by demonstrating real-world economics or advocating for better support systems like access to affordable ingredients, training, or markets.
Broader Context: The Street Food Economy’s Resilience
Nigeria’s informal food sector is massive; Lagos street vending alone generates billions annually and employs millions.
Akara, moin moin, and ogi vendors form a vital part of daily life, providing affordable, culturally rooted nutrition.
The First Lady’s comments spotlight this sector’s role in empowerment, particularly for women, but also underscore its vulnerabilities in an inflationary environment.
Food makers consistently emphasize resilience: they adapt recipes, source creatively, and serve communities even when macro conditions are tough.
A Mirror to Deeper Conversations
@freelanews Do not despise small beginnings #fyp #f – @femostika ♬ original sound – Freelanews
The episode reveals more than a soundbite.
It touches on longstanding tensions in Nigeria’s development discourse: the value of grassroots entrepreneurship versus the urgent need for structural reforms (job creation, industrialization, inflation control, security).
For food makers; many operating at the intersection of culture, survival, and business, it is both an opportunity for visibility and a reminder of everyday struggles.
Supporters see it as realistic encouragement rooted in cultural familiarity and proven pathways.
Critics view it as emblematic of a gap between elite perspectives and ground realities.
In between are the akara fryers waking before dawn, the moin moin steamers perfecting their wraps, and the ogi sellers serving steaming bowls—quietly sustaining the nation while the debate rages online.
Ultimately, Nigerian food makers’ responses reflect the same pragmatism and creativity that define their trade: they take what’s given, adapt, and keep serving.
Whether the comment inspires a wave of new micro-businesses or fuels calls for more ambitious policies, one thing is clear; the humble akara, moin moin, and ogi remain powerful symbols of Nigerian resilience, now thrust into the national conversation like never before.
Ojelabi, the publisher of Freelanews, is an award winning and professionally trained mass communicator, who writes ruthlessly about pop culture, religion, politics and entertainment.
