There is a quiet epidemic running alongside Nigeria’s more publicised health crises. It does not arrive in sudden outbreaks or make international emergency headlines. It builds slowly, meal by meal, sip by sip, until it arrives as a stroke at the age of 45, a diabetes diagnosis at 38 years, a hypertension prescription that a household cannot reasonably afford.
Non-communicable diseases now account for 29 percent of all deaths in Nigeria. Cardiovascular diseases, type 2 diabetes, stroke, and diet-related cancers are rising rapidly among a population that should be at its most productive stage of life. In these circumstances, the burden falls heavily on working-class and poor Nigerians in both urban and rural communities, many of whom do not realise they are ill until treatment becomes difficult and financially ruinous.
It is tempting to largely interpret this crisis through the language of personal responsibility. Nigerians, we are told, must simply eat better. The trouble with this argument is that it ignores the architecture of the modern food environment. Nigerians are not merely making bad choices. They are navigating a marketplace carefully designed to produce those choices.
Over the past two decades, the country’s food landscape has been transformed by an aggressive expansion of ultra processed products high in sugar, salt and chemical additives. These products are strategically placed in spaces where daily life unfolds. A commuter stops at a bus stop and easily finds a cold sugary drink within arm’s reach. A child stops at a school kiosk and buys packaged snacks. A mother shopping for provisions walks through aisles filled with brightly packaged instant foods. Overtime the effect adds up. What once felt as an occasional treat slowly becomes routine.
The corporations behind this transformation understand the psychology of markets extremely well. In addition to strategically positioning these products in very space, they also invest in marketing narratives that tie consumers’ emotions to consumption. They manufacture stories that insert their brands and products in family moments, cultural celebrations and belonging.
A recent monitoring of festive season marketing by Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA) illustrates the scale of this effort. During the 2025 holiday period in Nigeria, beverage and food companies flooded television, billboards and digital platforms with imagery linking celebration to heavy consumption of sugar laden drinks and processed meals.
Children occupy a particularly valuable place within this marketing strategy. Brand loyalty that begins early can persist for decades. Companies therefore invest heavily in environments where children gather and where regulatory oversight is minimal. Schools, churches, and public parks become subtle marketing arenas through sponsored events, free samples and branded materials. In such settings the line between community engagement and commercial promotion dissolves. Corporate philanthropy also plays a part. Donations to schools, park renovations or community events allow companies to present themselves as benefactors while expanding brand presence in spaces that would otherwise be restricted.
The Regulatory Vacuum
The tragedy is that Nigeria’s regulatory system has struggled to keep pace with these sophisticated commercial tactics. The country introduced an excise tax on sugar sweetened beverages (SSB) in 2021 while its implementation began in 2022. The levy stands at ten naira (N10) per litre on carbonated sugary drinks and beverages. Even at the moment of introduction, the rate was modest. Inflation has since reduced the real value of the tax to the point where it has little measurable impact on consumption patterns.
Public health research worldwide, including guidance from the World Health Organisation (WHO), shows that meaningful reductions in sugary drink consumption occur when taxes raise prices by about 50 percent. Nigeria’s current tax, set at roughly three to four percent of the retail price, barely changes what consumers pay at the counter. The result is predictable. The policy exists on paper but has little effect in practice. This wide gap between what public health evidence recommends and what Nigeria actually enforces reflects not just a weak tax design but also a failure of political resolve in the face of well organised industry lobbying.
Other regulatory tools remain stalled in similar ways. Front-of-pack warning labels that allow consumers to easily and quickly identify products high in sugar or sodium are still under discussion. Countries that have implemented such labels have seen rapid behavioural shifts. Chile introduced mandatory black octagon warning symbols in 2016 and saw a 24 percent reduction in sugary drink purchases within the first year. Nigeria is still debating.
Meanwhile the marketing environment continues to evolve faster than regulation. Child-directed marketing rules do not cover digital platforms, influencer content, AI-generated campaigns, prize-linked promotions, or CSR-mediated access to schools. The National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control’s (NAFDAC’s) mandate, as currently written, does not extend to festive activations, music festival brand integrations, or the occupation of public parks
What Must Happen Now?
Nigeria faces a choice that is both economic and moral. The country can continue to treat diet-related diseases as an unfortunate side effect of development. Or it can recognise that the modern food system operates according to powerful commercial incentives that require deliberate public regulation
Evidence based responses already exist. Raising the excise tax on sugar sweetened beverages to a level capable of influencing consumption would align Nigeria with global public health standards. Mandatory front-of-pack warning labels would provide immediate transparency to consumers standing in front of store shelves. Clear restrictions on marketing directed at children would protect the environments where young people learn their earliest food habits.
None of these policies are radical. Variations of them operate in countries as politically diverse such as Chile, Mexico, Brazil, the United Kingdom, and across the European Union. They are endorsed by WHO, the World Heart Federation, and every major global NCD authority. They are proportionate, implementable, and long overdue for Nigeria.
Ukeaja, a healthy food advocate and Industry Monitoring Officer at Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA), writes from Abuja.