Over the past several months, my team and I have been working on a project to better understand the scale of nonconsumption in Nigeria’s economy. Nonconsumption describes the inability of an entity (person or organization) to purchase and use (consume) a product or service required to help them make progress. What we’ve uncovered is what I call a predictable surprise. By definition, surprises are unexpected—if they were predictable, they wouldn’t surprise us. And yet, Nigeria’s level of nonconsumption fits this paradox perfectly. It is both staggering and entirely foreseeable. We knew it would be large, but the extent of it is far greater—and more urgent—than many might imagine.
Consider the following.
First, more than 130 million of the nation’s 220 plus million are living in multidimensional poverty. This is a method of measuring poverty which goes beyond considering a person’s income level and includes health, education, and access to other living standard metrics such as electricity, clean water, sanitation, and so on. More than 60% of Nigerians wake up each day struggling to meet basic needs. For instance, the average Nigerian household spends more than 50% of their income on food, more than 18 million children are out of school (one in three), and approximately 25 million people are at risk of food insecurity. In essence, if one word could define the life of the average Nigerian, the word would be struggle.
Second, Nigeria’s economy is structurally unproductive. Economies in Sub Saharan Africa are approximately 8% as productive as those in high income economies, according to a World Bank study on global productivity. In Nigeria, where there are approximately 40 million micro-enterprises (typically self employed micro-entrepreneurs), micro, small, and medium enterprises (MSMEs) are just 12% as productive as their larger counterparts. Here’s how this unproductivity shows up in the economy.
In financial services, there’s roughly $281 per capita of domestic credit flowing through the economy. In the United States, there’s more than $159,000. Fewer than 10% of workers are part of the formal economy, meaning that more than 90% of people have little to no access to any sort of predictable safety net. No insurance, no sick days, no vacations, no guaranteed income. In agriculture, use of fertilizer and mechanization are abysmally low. Even at a dismal 3.5% tertiary education completion rate, the Nigerian economy does not produce enough jobs for its graduates.
The Nigerian economy is so structurally and fundamentally unproductive that fixing it would require an intentional, long-term effort to build inclusive, productivity-enhancing systems—especially in sectors where nonconsumption is widespread.
Third, Nigeria’s nonconsumption is staggering. Just consider the following products and services. Annual per capita consumption of eggs, chicken, and fish & seafood is approximately 2.6 kg, 1.6 kg, and 7 kg respectively. In the United States, it’s roughly 15.7 kg, 53 kg, and 22 kg respectively. If Nigerians struggle to consume even basic foods, it follows that access to almost every other essential is also limited.
Consider mobility. Although data for Nigeria’s per capita miles traveled in a vehicle (Vehicle Miles Traveled, or VMT for short) is difficult to find, estimates suggest it’s less than 500. In the United States, VMT per capita is around 10,000. Nigerians are not moving. Electricity is another area of significant nonconsumption. Nigeria’s grid capacity is roughly 5 GW, although estimates suggest the country generates an additional 40 GW from millions of off-grid generators. Even at that, Nigeria’s per capita electricity consumption is approximately 1,700 kWh. Global average is roughly 3,700 kWh per capita while the United States’s is more than 12,000 kWh.
In short, Nigerians are nonconsumers of credit, food, mobility, and electricity. It’s hard to grow an economy without credit, food, movement, and power, let alone grow it sustainably.
Consumption matters because, on a fundamental level, life is simply a series of struggles marked by consumption or nonconsumption events. We get hungry (struggle). We eat (consumption). We need to go to work or visit a friend (struggle). We drive or get in a vehicle (consumption). We need to feel healthy when we get sick (struggle). We find and take medicine (consumption). Simply put, when people aren’t consuming, they’re struggling. And most Nigerians aren’t consuming.
Within this crisis however, lies a profound opportunity. Nonconsumption on this scale is not just a sign of what’s missing—it is a glaring signal for what’s possible. It reveals that there are great unmet needs in virtually every corner of the Nigerian economy. If leaders—public and private—can shift their focus from serving the few who already consume to enabling the many who currently cannot, they won’t just be solving poverty. They’ll be unlocking a new wave of inclusive prosperity, driven by markets that are designed to empower, not exclude. The predictable surprise of Nigeria’s nonconsumption is all the more reason to build.
