Once dubbed the “Giant of Africa,” Nigeria is now staggering under the weight of its own contradictions—rich in resources, yet poor in resolve; abundant in promise, yet bankrupt in performance. Nowhere is this shameful irony more glaring than in the heartbreaking revelation by UNICEF that Nigeria holds the unenviable title of having the highest number of malnourished children in Africa and the second highest globally. For a country so bountiful in natural and human wealth, this is a badge of disgrace, not just for its leaders but for every institution that has looked the other way.
As it stands, 600,000 Nigerian children are battling acute malnutrition, and half of them teeter on the edge of severe acute malnutrition, which multiplies their chances of dying by a staggering factor of 9 to 11. These are not just statistics. These are innocent lives—children born into a country that has failed spectacularly to nourish its future. They are not casualties of war, but victims of governmental negligence, policy lethargy, and systemic dysfunction.
It’s an unforgivable paradox that Nigeria, blessed with fertile land and agricultural potential, is now a poster child for hunger and deprivation. The World Food Programme (WFP) has added more fuel to the fire, declaring that Nigeria also tops the list for the most food-insecure people in Africa. The truth? We are not just in a food crisis—we are knee-deep in a national emergency.
While children’s ribs protrude and their cries echo in empty homes, our political class debates party defections and plans for their next foreign medical check-ups. The nation’s priorities are upside down, and the people are left to eat the bread of sorrow. What exactly is the role of government if it cannot protect the weakest and most vulnerable among us?
To compound this humanitarian disaster, $300 million is urgently needed to respond to the crisis, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). Yet, funding is drying up. OCHA’s target has already been slashed from four million to two million people due to a $58 million funding shortfall, thanks in part to a freeze in U.S. aid and shrinking donor confidence. But one must ask: why must the world feed our children when we have trillions looted and misappropriated by our very own?
It is a tragedy of epic proportions that in a country that budgeted over N6 billion for the renovation of the National Assembly complex, and billions more for political offices, there isn’t enough political will to confront the silent genocide of child hunger. The stark truth is this: we are investing more in politics than in people.
Every day, more children fall into the dark abyss of hunger, while policymakers engage in hollow rhetoric. What happened to the lofty agricultural policies and intervention programmes that flood the airwaves during campaigns? Why have these initiatives yielded more photo ops than food?
Let it be clear: this is not a Northern problem or a Borno-Yobe-Adamawa problem. It is a Nigerian problem. When one part of the body aches, the whole body feels the pain. A hungry child in Maiduguri today becomes a desperate recruit for violence tomorrow—this is how insurgency is fertilized.
The excuse of insecurity crippling agriculture holds little water. Countries at war have managed to feed their citizens through focused leadership and strategic partnerships. What we lack is not resources—it is resolve. We have the means, but not the mindset. Nigeria’s leaders continue to play musical chairs while the nation burns.
It is sheer wickedness that the same country that has produced billionaires in dollars cannot provide a cup of fortified porridge to its malnourished children. The elite wine and dine while children in internally displaced persons (IDP) camps scavenge for leftovers. If this isn’t a humanitarian betrayal, what is?
We must call a spade what it is—not a big spoon. This administration and those before it have failed to prioritize food security and child welfare. They’ve failed to build a reliable social safety net. And they’ve failed to shield our future from predictable disaster.
This crisis demands more than donor sympathy. It demands urgent domestic action. Local governments must be held accountable. State governments must stop hiding behind federal inefficiency. And the Federal Government must stop issuing statements while children starve in silence.
Nigerians must rise in unison and demand a comprehensive national response to child malnutrition. The media must sustain pressure. Civil society must shout until they are heard. Religious and traditional leaders must stop praying about it and start speaking truth to power.
This is our collective cross to bear. If we continue to ignore the cries of our children, we will one day find ourselves ruled by a generation too weak, too bitter, and too broken to lead. Hunger is no respecter of tribes, tongues, or political affiliations. If we do nothing today, we all will pay tomorrow.
How did we get here—and more importantly, when will we say enough is enough?
Stanley Ugagbe is a Social Commentator. He can be reached via stanleyakomeno@gmail.com
