Nigeria’s Silent Hunger Crisis: How Shrinkflation and Soaring Prices Are Forcing Millions to "Eat Air"

In the bustling markets of Lagos and Abuja, a quiet but devastating economic phenomenon is unfolding. Nigerians are paying the same prices for everyday goods, only to discover they’re getting far less. A pack of biscuits that once held twelve now contains just eight. A tuber of yam, once affordable, now costs ₦6,500, with smaller sizes to boot. This is shrinkflation, a stealthy corporate tactic to mask inflation by reducing product sizes while keeping prices stable. But behind this economic sleight of hand lies a deeper crisis: a nation where wages remain stagnant, food prices have nearly doubled, and families are skipping meals just to survive.

The Illusion of Stability

At first glance, supermarket shelves appear unchanged. Packaging remains colorful and familiar, but the contents have quietly diminished. Manufacturers, squeezed by an 82.6% surge in wheat costs and diesel prices hitting ₦1,341 per liter, are resorting to shrinking product sizes rather than raising prices outright. Beta Glass Plc, a packaging firm, has seen its shares skyrocket by 224% as companies scramble for smaller containers to cut costs. Yet for consumers, this means fewer biscuits in a pack, less detergent in a box, and thinner slices of bread, all while paying the same amount.

The deception runs deeper. Investigations reveal that some traders are adulterating staple goods, blending premium rice with cheaper grains or layering bags to hide inferior quality. A ₦80,000 bag of "premium" rice might contain three different tiers of grain, with the worst hidden at the bottom.

The Human Cost of Inflation

While corporations adapt, ordinary Nigerians are left with impossible choices. Food inflation has reached a staggering 45.4%, forcing families to cut back drastically. Middle-class households now adopt extreme meal patterns skipping breakfast

The situation is even direr for the working poor. While food prices have surged by 91.6% year-on-year, wages remain frozen for most Nigerians. The recent minimum wage increase affects just 4.1% of formal workers, leaving the informal sector, which employs 80% of the workforce—completely unprotected. According to PricewaterhouseCoopers, these conditions could push an additional 13 million Nigerians into poverty by the end of 2025.

Corporate Survival or Exploitation?

Some businesses are adapting out of necessity. Beta Glass’s expansion into smaller packaging reflects a legitimate response to market pressures. MTN Nigeria’s ₦956 billion operating cash flow in the first half of 2025 shows that large corporations can weather the storm. But other practices border on exploitation. Restaurants shrink portions, traders mislabel goods, and manufacturers quietly reduce quantities all while maintaining the illusion of normalcy.

The government’s attempts to intervene have fallen short. A 150-day zero-duty levy on staple foods like rice and wheat was bogged down by bureaucracy, failing to lower prices. A ₦200 billion food security fund has been plagued by inefficiency and corruption, leaving farmers in crisis-hit regions like Benue and Kaduna without support. Even the Bank of Agriculture’s much-touted reforms remain theoretical, with smallholder farmers still struggling to access credit.

Solving this crisis requires more than temporary fixes. First, Nigeria must enforce transparent pricing, mandating "unit pricing" labels to expose shrinkflation tactics and cracking down on food adulteration. Second, the energy crisis must be addressed. With diesel consuming up to 60% of production costs, decentralized solar grids could offer manufacturers a lifeline. Third, farm-to-market supply chains need urgent investment to reduce post-harvest losses, particularly in conflict zones where violence disrupts agriculture.

Most crucially, nutrition must become a policy priority. Expanding school feeding programs with locally sourced ingredients could simultaneously support farmers and combat child malnutrition.

Nigeria’s shrinkflation crisis is more than an economic quirk, it’s a symptom of a broken system. While corporations find ways to cope and the wealthy adapt, millions are left rationing meals, sacrificing nutrition, and watching their children go hungry. Without bold, systemic reforms, the phrase "eating air" may become less metaphor than reality for a generation of Nigerians. The time for half-measures has passed; only decisive action can restore food security and dignity to a nation on the brink.