The persistent rise in poverty across Northern Nigeria has become too visible, too widespread, and too uncomfortable to ignore. Despite years of government interventions, donor-funded programmes, and repeated political promises, the economic condition of many communities in the region has shown limited improvement. While poverty is a national problem, its intensity and social manifestations in Arewa compel a deeper, more honest examination beyond policy failures and leadership deficits.
Northern Nigeria has not lacked leadership or representation at the highest levels of government. Yet, compared to other regions with similar leadership exposure, economic outcomes remain strikingly different. This reality suggests that while governance matters, it alone does not fully explain the region’s enduring poverty. There is a need to look inward—into social structures, community practices, and long-standing cultural habits that quietly shape economic behaviour.
One critical factor sustaining poverty in Arewa is the region’s high dependency ratio: a large population of unemployed, underemployed, or economically inactive adults relying on a small number of productive individuals for survival. This pattern has normalised dependence and weakened incentives for self-sufficiency.
In many towns and old cities across the North, families considered masu rufin asiri are familiar with the daily presence of masu neman taimako—individuals who depend on routine assistance for food, school fees, medical bills, and emergency needs. What often begins as a humane act of support gradually becomes an inherited obligation. As children of middle-class families grow into employment, the responsibility quietly transfers to them, expanding to include extended relatives and, in many cases, the children of earlier dependants.
These demands are not symbolic. They can consume a significant portion of monthly income, sometimes exceeding ten per cent, in an economy already strained by inflation and rising living costs. While similar practices exist in other parts of the country, the scale and permanence of dependency in many northern communities distinguish it from elsewhere.
Helping others is noble, and no society survives without mutual support. However, what is troubling is how little the condition of beneficiaries changes over time. Decades pass, and the same families remain dependent, with new generations added to the cycle. Poverty becomes inherited, normalised, and quietly institutionalised.
Two major obstacles sustain this dependency structure.The first is the concentration of responsibility on a single individual—the babban bango. In many extended families, one person shoulders almost all financial obligations: from school fees and medical care to wedding trousseaus and naming ceremonies. This arrangement offers social protection to the provider, shielding them from zagi and social pressure. Yet it is a fragile system. When the “big wall” weakens—through job loss, illness, retirement, or death—the entire structure collapses, often plunging families into crisis.
Worryingly, in many such households, spouses and adult dependants lack the skills or financial literacy to manage independently. Economic dependency thus becomes both a social expectation and a survival strategy.
The second challenge is the absence of deliberate strategies to end dependence at family and community levels. Daily alms, food handouts, and small cash gifts may relieve immediate hardship, but they rarely create lasting change. Many well-meaning individuals give generously without plans to help beneficiaries become self-reliant. The obsession with “a raba kowa ya samu”—sharing small sums among many—often weakens impact. Distributing ₦50,000 among ten people may satisfy social expectations, but it rarely empowers anyone.
There are no quick fixes to problems rooted in social behaviour and cultural norms. This reality explains the rise of behavioural economics and development sociology. Still, practical steps can be taken at individual, family, and community levels.
First, underemployment must be addressed by encouraging income diversification rather than perpetual assistance. Families should begin asking difficult but necessary questions: if the main provider is unavailable, who steps in? This reflection can inspire deliberate efforts to replicate skills, businesses, and income sources within households and extended families.
Second, there is an urgent need to equip young people with practical, modern skills that enable them to compete beyond low-paying government jobs. The heavy reliance on public sector employment in the North has contributed significantly to underemployment. An average government salary can barely sustain a household, often forcing workers to remain dependent on extended family support.
Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu, Abuja
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