Prioritize Your Food First — Fix It Fast, Or Forget It.

The great Indian leader and freedom advocate made that statement before his assassination in 1948, at a time when his country—now split into at least three nations—was facing a food crisis far worse than what Nigeria is going through today. It can equally be said that millions of Nigerians are so hungry now that even God would have to appear to them as a loaf of bread or a bowl of rice to be recognized.

I was only four years old in 1948, so I had to speak with older people and consult historical records to understand what the food situation was like then. Surprisingly, Nigeria was a net exporter of food during that period, even though about 99% of Nigerians were illiterate and the University of Ibadan had just opened its doors. Back then, the total number of Nigerian university graduates was barely 1,000. Today, UI alone produces over 5,000 graduates annually, and our universities collectively add more than 120,000 to the labour market each year. But what is the value of this “educated manpower” if we cannot feed ourselves?

India, during the same period, produced even more graduates than Nigeria. Yet, while India transformed from a food-deficit nation to a major food exporter, Nigeria moved in the opposite direction—from a food exporter to a food-dependent nation. We already know part of the reason: Nigeria found oil, India did not. But there’s a deeper truth—Indian leaders and their educated citizens applied intelligence to development; Nigerians did not.

“Food is national security, food is economy; it is employment, energy, history. Food is everything,” said Chef José Andrés, founder of World Central Kitchen. Many people don’t realize that food is essentially stored energy, and no matter how powerful or wealthy one is, no one can live without eating.

My understanding of food security deepened during Buhari’s first tenure as Military Head of State in 1984–85. Like most city dwellers, I once thought farming was only for villagers—until Buhari compelled food and beverage companies to start producing their own raw materials. Suddenly, firms like Guinness and Nestlé had to take farming seriously, and people like me were drawn into the reality of agriculture. From growing sorghum for breweries, it wasn’t long before the focus shifted to feeding the nation.

A personal tragedy—the passing of my eldest brother—brought me back to Lagos, where I realized that the future of Nigeria’s food security depends on educated young people who can quickly learn and apply new agricultural methods. But to make that happen, we must first return to the land.

My visit to India in 1983 for a poverty-alleviation conference proved invaluable. That was where I first heard about urban farming, which seemed laughable at the time, given the vast farmlands available. Few predicted that population growth and development would drastically shrink farmland. Today, India has over 30 million urban and suburban farmers cultivating food on rooftops, balconies, and even twenty-storey buildings. Vegetables like tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers now grow alongside flowers on balconies, and sunflower seeds are pressed into vegetable oil.

So, what stops Nigerians from doing the same? As Alexander Pope said, “Pride, the never-failing vice of fools.” Sadly, many Nigerians, especially in the South, are too proud to farm. I once lived with a friend in Kano who had half an acre of unused land behind his official residence. For years, he never thought to grow anything. When I began planting tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers in that yard, friends mocked me. They called me “Baba Agbe”—the old farmer. But six months later, the laughter stopped when our backyard overflowed with vegetables and chickens.

Even then, those with bigger spaces refused to follow suit. Their excuse was, “Food is cheap in the North.” Today, food is no longer cheap, yet their backyards remain bare. Habits, indeed, are more powerful than logic.

Now, rural farmlands are unsafe due to insecurity, and millions of farmers have fled. Still, people with available land in cities refuse to grow food, waiting instead for the government to act—as if politicians are the ones going hungry. The harsh truth is that even if a bag of rice costs ₦1 million, those in power will still eat; it’s the rest of us who will starve. The only logical solution is to grow what we can—wherever we can. Urban farming isn’t just possible; it’s necessary. Once you start, you’ll never want to stop, because it teaches self-reliance and resilience.

So, what can governments do?
First, lead by example.
Second, seek expert guidance to launch urban agriculture programs. With the right plan, every state, local government, and ward can begin to see real impact within six months. Gradually, the number of participants can grow to one million urban farmers within a year.

At over 80, I may not live to see that vision fully realized—but if we act now, Nigeria can still reach the promised land of food security and self-sufficiency.