By Nkem Jacobs
There is a funny moment in every economic recovery when the numbers start looking better before the people do. Nigeria may be arriving at that moment — and somebody forgot to tell the market woman and man.
First, the good news; it deserves its own paragraph before we turn it upside down. Real GDP grew 4.43 per cent in Q2 2026, up from 3.89 per cent in Q1 — the fastest pace in five years. Services grew 4.60 per cent, oil output rebounded to 1.72 million barrels per day, and non-oil activities made up a whopping 95.84 per cent of GDP. On paper, Nigeria is jogging. Possibly even trotting.
Then inflation eased to 14.63 per cent in September from 15.91 per cent in June, and food prices fell 1.55 per cent month-on-month. Another gold star for the economic managers.
Then we went to the market, and the celebration hit a pothole. Food still costs nearly a fifth more than a year ago, and energy prices jumped 5.38 per cent in one month. Somebody must explain to garri why one good month should erase a hard year; garri did not get the memo.
This is where we need a brand-new word: “sadistics.” Statistics say prices are rising more slowly. Sadistics say the family at the market still needs more money for the same basket. Both are true, which is precisely the problem.
Nobody said the numbers are lying. Growth, lower inflation, exchange-rate stability, higher revenue and fiscal consolidation all matter; without them, no country attracts serious long-term capital. The progress deserves applause. But a scorecard can be accurate and still incomplete, the way a school report can say “improved” without saying “still failing maths.”
The Central Bank has finally blinked, cutting the Monetary Policy Rate by 350 basis points to 23 per cent in September — its largest single cut ever.
But 23 per cent is only the opening line for small businesses, and only if banks pass the cut on. Add risk premium, processing fees and “other charges” nobody can explain, and borrowing still requires maximum courage.
The 2026 budget, presented at ₦58.18 trillion with ₦34.33 trillion revenue and a ₦23.85 trillion deficit, rose to ₦68.32 trillion in the signed Appropriation Act, including ₦15.8 trillion for debt service and ₦32.2 trillion for capital projects.
The Nigeria Revenue Service collected ₦28.3 trillion in 2025, beating its ₦25.2 trillion target, and ₦21.6 trillion in the first half of 2026 against a ₦40.7 trillion annual target. Genuinely commendable. But a student who moves from 10% to 35% has greatly improved; he has not yet passed.
Remember: falling inflation does not mean falling prices.
Picture a bag of rice that rose from ₦50,000 to ₦80,000 and has now slowed its ambition. Its inflation has fallen, but the rice is still ₦80,000, and nobody is refunding the difference. The inflation rate calmed down; the rice did not apologise.
September proves it: headline inflation fell 0.76 points in a month, yet food remains 19.59 per cent dearer than a year ago. Two true numbers, two completely different moods.
For a household, this is not a footnote in a PDF. It is a parent replacing beef with ponmo and, when ponmo also becomes ambitious, announcing, “Let us manage without meat this week.” It is less rice and more fufu, herbs before a hospital visit that now feels like a luxury, okirika instead of new clothes, and more trekking — because food and rent have held a board meeting with the household budget and voted transport fare out.
For the small trader, lower inflation does not mean cheaper restocking. This is the gap between the dashboard and the dining table.
A big corporation can raise capital abroad or absorb a rough quarter. The small manufacturer in Aba, Kano, Lagos or Onitsha cannot. For him, “the economy” is diesel, electricity, transport, rent, inventory, wages, taxes, bank charges and working capital, all arriving like uninvited guests at a party.
Government wants businesses to invest, employ and expand the tax net. But a business facing expensive credit and rising costs hoards cash, trims inventory, postpones expansion, cuts jobs and, eventually, quietly shuts the shop. Nobody keeps watering a dead flower.
So Nigeria can post healthy growth while thousands of businesses gasp for air. GDP counts aggregate production; it does not say who benefited, how many decent jobs were created, or whether real wages moved an inch. The real question is: growth of what — and for whom?
Reforms have rightly focused on stabilization elements like correcting distortions, fiscal discipline, monetary credibility and revenue. The next phase must make the economy cheaper to run, from farm to market, factory to consumer, employer to worker.
Food logistics come first. More food means little if insecurity, bad roads, weak storage, endless levies and high transport costs keep it from the market. Tax reform promised to end multiple taxation, yet “task forces” — some conveniently in uniform — still stop vehicles to collect “something.”
Energy and water are equally urgent. No manufacturer becomes globally competitive while moonlighting as its own power company and borehole engineer. Regulatory reform must also go beyond slogans. Government should know how many licences, levies, inspections and compliance boxes a small business must tick, and what each truly costs.
Credit needs fresh thinking, so that productive lending is not priced to defeat the investment it funds. And social protection must be transparent and well targeted, or the human cost of fiscal adjustment becomes unbearable.
Government has a legitimate story: faster growth, moderating inflation, better revenue, falling interest rates. All real. But policymakers must not declare victory before the market has voted.
The economy is not a spreadsheet. A trader’s turnover, a baker’s electricity bill, a family’s food budget and a graduate’s job search are economic indicators too, yet none sits on the official dashboard. Perhaps we need a broader scorecard that, alongside GDP, inflation, revenue and debt, asks:
- Is real household purchasing power improving?
- Is it getting cheaper to produce locally?
- How many viable businesses are expanding, not just surviving?
- How many quality jobs are being created?
- How much of every extra naira of revenue becomes roads, power and services people can see?
These questions do not diminish the macro numbers. They give them a purpose.
The government’s scorecard should be neither dismissed nor swallowed whole. The true test of reform is whether improved numbers survive contact with the marketplace.
An economy cannot be “recovering” on paper while households remain in survival mode and businesses in defensive mode. The real scorecard begins where the statistics end — in the market, at the dinner table, in the factory, the classroom and the citizen’s pocket.
A resilient economy will be defined not by balanced ledgers, rising GDP or falling inflation alone, but by whether Nigerians can earn, produce, invest and plan with real confidence — not the kind that needs a slideshow to explain.
The numbers matter. But the people are the economy — and that is one indicator no minister should have to explain with a PowerPoint.
Nkem Jacobs is a Lagos-based Strategic Communications & Corporate Identity Consultant. He can be reached at inscriptiveM@outlook.com.
