Last week, I had a very interesting meeting with someone who works for one of the world’s largest rice traders. I learnt a couple of fascinating things about agriculture in Nigeria. Of course, you know that rice is more than just rice. Any discussion about rice and Nigeria is bound to be a conversation about infrastructure, politics, security, government policy, sociology and globalisation and lots more.
So, I learnt from the discussion that Nigeria is the world’s largest importer of rice (and, by the way, wheat also). And it makes sense — with a population like ours, our penchant for importing things, and the disdain we show for local production. Combine those three factors and what you see is an ocean-sized flotilla sailing towards Apapa or Tin Can Island, bearing bags of rice.
Two things about the rice we import: Most of it come from Thailand and India, and virtually all of it is parboiled. Apparently that — parboiled rice — is an unusual taste; the rest of the world prefers “white” rice, according to this analyst I met. He then asked the question: “How did Nigeria get stuck on parboiled rice in the first place?”
If you have any answers please let me know. When did the enduring Nigerian fascination with rice begin? Did it predate the oil boom? And why parboiled rice?
I know that Nigerians above a certain age like to tell stories of how, when they were children, rice was a Christmas luxury, or restricted to party occasions. Richer families perhaps got it as “Sunday-Sunday medicine”. And then things changed after some time. Rice is now a Nigerian staple, available at every street corner. And in recent years ofada rice, apparently once looked down upon by the middle class, has now resurfaced as a cool item, so that you can find it on the menu in Lagos’ most expensive restaurants.
I also learnt, from my conversation, that the global rice market is an interesting one. Five countries account for more than 80 per cent of the world’s exports of rice: India, Thailand, Vietnam, Pakistan and the United States. Move over to the import table, and things change dramatically: about 36 countries are jointly responsible for 80 per cent of exports. That is the table Nigeria sits atop.
Now consider that Nigerian appetite for rice, and place it side by side with this very interesting development: The Nigerian government has an ambitious self-sufficiency vision for rice; it aims to ensure that by 2015 Nigeria ceases the importation of rice. To this end, a sizable tariff has been slammed on imported rice.
As President Goodluck Jonathan said in August 2011, at a meeting with the International Fund for Agricultural Development: “There is no reason why Nigeria should be importing rice. We have all that is needed to grow enough for domestic consumption and have a surplus we can export to other countries.”
The big question therefore is, can this be done? Can Nigeria move from being the world’s largest importer of rice to being a zero importer, in two years?
Cement immediately comes to mind. Until a few years ago, Nigeria was one of the world’s largest importers of cement (those old enough will recall the “cement armada” that accompanied the seventies oil boom). Today, we produce enough cement locally to make us a net exporter. Within a decade, Nigeria grew local production by about 1,000 per cent. A cement revolution has clearly happened, rather swiftly and decisively, powered largely by Dangote and Lafarge. (It is important to point out that cement importation is not banned in Nigeria, and the combination of import and local manufacture recently led the main manufacturers to lament that there was a “glut” in the market, (whatever that means given that there was no reduction in the price as a result).
There’s a question: Can we replicate the cement revolution in rice? Of course, cement is not rice; rice has to be grown, cement is simply manufactured. Like everything that has to be grown, rice lies at the mercy of nature: farming cycles, soil quality, disease, rainfall, flooding, among others. One example: Last year’s devastating floods have caused a reassessment of Nigeria’s rice-producing capacity, perhaps further diminishing our capacity to hit a zero-imports level by 2015.
To achieve this Nigeria-Rice-ing dream requires the active collaboration of private and public sectors, and the general populace.
I think there’s reason to be optimistic. There’s, for one, the Agric Minister, Akin Adesina’s infectious passion for change. I consider him one of the few inspiring faces in the current cabinet. He has spoken again and again about turning Nigerian agriculture away from what it currently is — what I’d describe as Government Social Responsibility or ‘GSR’ — into a proper business, with huge potential for real economic impact. The opportunities are immense, for Nigeria to grow its GDP, feed itself, earn foreign exchange, and, very importantly, expand its middle class, through agriculture.
I’m hoping our big-budget companies can take some of their “entertainment” budgets and direct such into helping support an agricultural revolution. I have a dream that one day saving to start a farm will be as cool as saving to go into a music studio in this country.
There are already a number of people and organisations doing interesting things (and this is not meant to be an exhaustive list, just some of the initiatives I’m aware of): there’s the inspiring young farmer Mosunmola Umoru (she’s one of the most compelling advertisements for the potential of agriculture in Nigeria), and in Imo State, Nnaemeka Ikegwuonu, who runs a Farmers Radio project that provides useful information — market prices, weather information and farming tips — to smallholder farmers in Igbo language; and also distributes improved seed varieties.
All evidence point to the fact that Nigeria can rice, if we’re determined to rise. And if we can do it successfully, perhaps in that we will find the confidence to tackle other giants. We’re spending far too much foreign exchange importing food into a country blessed with an almost infinite capacity to produce its own food. Until Teragro, the agri-business subsidiary of Transcorp opened its fruit juice concentrate manufacturing plant in Benue State a year ago, it’s said that Nigeria was importing almost 100 per cent of its concentrate needs.
And this is where the government comes in, as the primary enabler of reform and revolution. Agriculture needs infrastructure, and it is the duty of the government to facilitate the provision of that, whether directly or via public-private partnerships. Farm produce need roads and barges and railway carriages, to enable the speedy and inexpensive movement of produce to market. I know that in Ekiti, for example, the state government is determinedly working on a road project to open up far-flung rural areas, mandating local governments to build a minimum number of kilometres of roads per annum; efforts critical in a state that is largely agrarian.
I’m not a great fan of SURE-P, but it appears to be doing a decent job with trying to complete the roads and bridges and railways the real government has made a habit out of abandoning. There’s a lot of potential in using Nigeria’s abundant waterways, if only the government would be sensible enough to dredge them.
I’ll end on what I consider a happy note. Weeks ago in Lagos, I ran into an old schoolmate of mine, we attended secondary school together. I don’t think I’d seen him in 15 years. I asked what he was doing for a living. He works in a bank, he said, but he’s quitting this year, to go and farm in Ibadan. That impressed and excited me a great deal. The story of Nigeria is of people leaving the farms to go and work in offices, lured by the oil money flowing around and destroying our capacity for real productivity. To hear someone I know making plans to buck that trend is great news. Here I am wishing him all the best!