By Ahmed Abdulkadir
The fears expressed in our earlier commentary on the dangers of “crashing food prices” have now unfolded in painful detail. What many dismissed as alarmism has become the lived reality of thousands of farmers across Northern Nigeria. The new video circulating on social media captures scenes that should trouble every policymaker: piles of maize stacked in sacks with no buyers, farmers staring helplessly at the fruits of their labour, and voices trembling with frustration and despair.
In that video, elderly and young farmers alike recount how they harvested their grains with hope, only to watch the market collapse beneath them. One man lifts a bag of maize and explains that even at the giveaway price of ₦21,000 per bag, there are still no buyers. Another gestures toward rows of unsold sacks, each representing days of backbreaking work, and reveals that many of them borrowed money at planting time, expecting to repay their debts after harvest. Now, they face the humiliation of loss, debt, and uncertainty about how their families will survive the next few months, let alone the next farming season.
Their words are as heartbreaking as they are revealing. “Mun yi aikin banza — babu wani riba,” one farmer laments. “We worked for nothing — there is no profit.” Another adds with fear and anger in his voice: “Idan gwamnati ba ta dawo da hankali ba, mu ba za mu iya noma ba shekara mai zuwa.” If the government does not rethink its approach, he says, farmers will simply not be able to cultivate next year.
These are not isolated cries; they represent a systemic collapse triggered by a policy that prioritises the appearance of cheap food over the sustainability of local agriculture. It is now evident that the effort to “crash” food prices has dealt a heavy blow to the very people who grow the nation’s food. Traders have become redundant due to the influx of cheap imports. Companies that once bought grain in bulk are no longer purchasing. Warehouses remain full, not because there is abundance, but because the market has been distorted into paralysis. The very lifeline of the rural economy is being choked.
The situation is made worse by the staggering costs of agricultural inputs. Fertiliser, which sells for around ₦45,000 per bag, towers above the value of a bag of maize, which now fetches less than ₦30,000. This makes farming an exercise in guaranteed loss. And when you factor in land preparation, herbicides, pesticides, labour, harvesting, transportation, insecurity, and rising fuel costs, it becomes clear why many farmers are questioning whether it is worth returning to the field next year. No rational farmer will continue planting crops that cannot even pay for a single bag of fertiliser.
This crisis also brings back memories of a time when farming still made sense. Under the Buhari administration, fertiliser was subsidised and sold at ₦5,500 per bag, with the price boldly printed to prevent exploitation. The Anchor Borrowers Scheme offered credit and guaranteed offtake. Irrigation projects were revived. Local rice mills multiplied. Those policies did not eliminate hardship, but they restored dignity and viability to farming. Today, by contrast, farmers feel abandoned, unsupported, and exposed to the vagaries of a market warped by imports and government pressure to force down consumer prices.
The events we are witnessing confirm a simple truth: no country solves hunger by bankrupting its farmers. It is not only morally wrong but economically impossible to sustain food security by undermining the very people who produce food. Cheap food achieved through artificial market pressure, rather than through lowering production costs, is an illusion that cannot last. And when the illusion breaks, the consequences will be severe.
If this trend continues, the Northern agricultural economy — the backbone of Nigeria’s food supply — risks collapsing. Farmers will abandon their fields, rural communities will sink deeper into poverty, and Nigeria will become dangerously dependent on imports. What appears today as temporary relief for consumers could evolve into an even greater food crisis tomorrow.
The cries in the video are more than emotional outbursts—they are warnings. They reveal a sector in crisis, a people losing hope, and a future at risk. If government policymakers listen carefully, they will hear not complaints, but the early rumblings of a national emergency.
Northern farmers do not need sympathy. They need protection, support, and rational policies that bring down production costs, not farm-gate prices. They need a government that understands that agriculture cannot thrive on loss. And Nigeria needs leaders who recognise that food security begins with farmers who are able — and willing — to plant.
The tragedy we warned about has arrived. What the government does now will determine whether this is merely a painful episode or the beginning of a deeper agricultural collapse.
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