Once again, the shameful paradox of Nigeria’s governance has been dragged into the spotlight—not by our leaders, but by outsiders who seem more concerned about our children than those sworn to protect them. The European Union has graciously earmarked ₦900 million to fight the raging storm of malnutrition in Northern Nigeria, and while this gesture should stir gratitude, it instead evokes a deeper frustration—a gnawing reminder that our leaders have been sleeping at the wheel while the nation’s youngest wither in silence.
It is often said that charity begins at home. Yet, in Nigeria, charity seems to die at the gates of power. Year in, year out, budgetary allocations for health and nutrition disappear into bureaucratic black holes, never to be seen nor felt where they’re needed most. The EU’s intervention, generous as it is, reads like an indictment—a glaring declaration that the Nigerian government has failed its own people. When foreign governments have to pick up the slack in feeding your children, it’s no longer a crisis; it’s a national disgrace.
The EU’s N900 million will support roughly 170,000 households across a handful of states. Let that sink in. This is barely a scratch on the surface in a region where 5.4 million children are already grappling with acute malnutrition, and over 2 million are on the brink, hanging by a thread, waiting for either salvation or death. And what has the Nigerian state done? Offer speeches, set up committees, and organise media stunts—all while children’s ribs become more visible than their hopes.
What is most heart-wrenching is that this tragedy is not new. It didn’t start yesterday. It has been a slow-burning fire, fanned by years of neglect, corruption, and insecurity. The root causes are not hidden. Conflict, displacement, floods, climate change, poverty, and a healthcare system in shambles—these are not new headlines. They’ve been recited like a broken record. Yet, the political class continues to wine and dine in opulence, oblivious to the fact that millions of children go to bed every night not knowing if they’ll see the next sunrise.
The idea that a foreign body must step in to provide “lifesaving treatment” using “ready-to-use therapeutic food” is a punch to the gut of any patriotic Nigerian. How did we get here—where international aid has become our fallback for what should be a basic governmental function? Are our leaders not moved by the images of skeletal toddlers staring blankly into nothingness? Or are these children not part of their political calculations?
Perhaps the most damning aspect of this entire development is the reality that the states benefiting from this intervention—Sokoto, Zamfara, Katsina, and others—are not devoid of resources. They receive federal allocations, yet the funds rarely translate to concrete development or improved social welfare. Where does the money go? Into the pockets of the privileged, while the poor are left to dig into the earth for sustenance.
This is not just a failure of policy; it is a moral collapse. A nation that cannot feed its children, cannot protect its future. We are raising a generation of stunted minds and wasted potential, and while politicians chase shadows in the name of politics, the foundation of the country is being eroded by hunger and hopelessness. If these children ever grow into adults, what memories of the state will they carry?
One would expect that this EU funding would serve as a wake-up call. But history tells us otherwise. Aid money has become just another opportunity for some to fleece the system. For every dollar or naira that comes in, only a trickle reaches the intended recipients. Corruption remains the elephant in the room—a bloated beast that feeds while others starve.
It’s also telling that the response from the Nigerian government to this humanitarian gesture has been muted, at best. No urgency, no acknowledgement of failure, no blueprint for sustainability. If anything, they may already be scheming how to claim credit or redirect the spotlight to some phantom achievement.
The EU’s intervention is a noble act, no doubt. But at best, it is a band-aid on a bullet wound—a temporary fix to a festering problem. Until Nigeria learns to take responsibility for its own, to prioritise human dignity over political theatrics, the cycle will continue. Today it is the EU. Tomorrow, maybe UNICEF. And the day after, who knows? Perhaps we will be collecting alms from war-torn nations if we don’t change course.
In the end, the question must be asked: How much longer must outsiders feed our children before we realise we are naked before the world? It is not just the children who are malnourished; it is our conscience as a nation that has starved to death.
Stanley Ugagbe is a seasoned journalist with a passion for exposing social issues and advocating for justice. With years of experience in the media industry, he has written extensively on governance, human rights, and societal challenges, crafting powerful narratives that inspire change.
He can be reached via stanleyakomeno@gmail.com
