Nigeria’s Sugar “Crisis” Is a Myth –And Our Economy May Pay The Price for Believing It

BY CHUDY UWADIEGWU

As Nigeria continues to grapple with pressing economic and social challenges, it is imperative that our public policies are grounded in data, logic, and a full understanding of our unique national context.

One of such policy currently under debate is the call for increased taxation on Sugar-Sweetened Beverages (SSBs), led by internationally funded advocates such as the Corporate Accountability and Public Participation Africa (CAPPA), who argue that taxing SSBs will reduce non-communicable diseases (NCDs) like obesity and diabetes.

While CAPPA’s recent report, “Junk on Our Plates,” attempts to portray this tax hike as a bold step toward public health reform, its recommendations reveal a deep misunderstanding of the socioeconomic dynamics shaping food and beverage consumption in Nigeria.

While the conversation about improving public health is important and should be encouraged, it must also be balanced, inclusive, and fact-based—not rooted in imported narratives or incomplete data.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), the safe limit for sugar consumption is about 25 grams (approximately 6 teaspoons) per day for an adult. In Nigeria, per capita sugar consumption is roughly 8 kilograms per year, which translates to about 21 grams per day—well within the recommended safe limits. This suggests that Nigeria does not have a sugar overconsumption crisis. In contrast, countries like the United States consume over 68 kilograms per capita annually, more than eight times Nigeria’s consumption levels.

Contrary to growing concerns over excessive sugar consumption, new comparative data reveals that Nigeria ranks among the safest countries in Africa when it comes to daily sugar intake.

According to the figures, Nigeria’s per capita sugar consumption stands between 8 to 10 kilograms per year, translating to an average daily intake of 22 to 27 grams. This places the country within the World Health Organization’s (WHO) recommended benchmark of 25 grams per day, suggesting that Nigerians, on average, are not exceeding safe sugar limits.

In stark contrast, Egypt tops the list with annual sugar consumption between 33 to 35 kilograms per person, amounting to a staggering 90 to 95 grams per day—over three to four times the WHO recommendation. South Africa follows closely, with individuals consuming 25 to 30 kilograms per year or 68 to 82 grams daily, raising red flags among public health experts.

Other countries like Kenya and Ghana fall in the mid-range. Kenyans consume between 14 to 17 kilograms per year (38 to 47 grams/day), slightly above the threshold, while Ghanaians ingest about 10 to 13 kilograms annually (27 to 35 grams/day), skirting close to the limit but still considered manageable.

Nigeria’s standing in this regional comparison underlines the importance of localized data in public health policymaking. Experts say the findings challenge narratives that portray the country as facing a sugar crisis driven by products like sugar-sweetened beverages (SSBs), and instead highlight the need for more nuanced, evidence-based approaches to nutrition policy.

So, if most Nigerians are not consuming excessive sugar, who exactly is suffering from obesity and NCDs attributed to SSBs? We must begin to broaden the health conversation beyond vilifying soft drinks and SSBs. A healthy population is one that has access to balanced nutrition, proper education on food choices, and opportunities for physical activity. Placing the blame solely on one product category oversimplifies a complex issue.

In reality, many Nigerians, especially in rural and low-income areas, struggle to afford three meals a day, let alone indulge in sugar-laden beverages. The average Nigerian household is grappling with rising food inflation (which stood at over 30% as of August 2025), unemployment, and diminishing purchasing power. The idea that the nation is drowning in sugar is not just inaccurate—it is out of touch with the lived experiences of the majority.

In 2021, the Federal Government introduced an N10/litre tax on SSBs. Now, there are calls to increase this tax further. But this policy path could have devastating unintended consequences including a devastating outcome for small businesses, which form the backbone of the distribution network for beverages. Predictably, street vendors, kiosks, retailers, and wholesalers will bear the brunt of reduced consumer demand. Thousands of jobs across the value chain, from sugarcane farmers to factory workers to transporters will all be at risk.

Interestingly, the entire local sugar industry, which the same government is investing heavily in through the Nigeria Sugar Master Plan (NSMP), will suffer. How can we promote sugar production on one hand and punish its primary users on the other?

Moreover, global evidence on the efficacy of SSB taxes is mixed. In countries like Mexico, Ireland, and the UK, sugar taxes have not led to significant, long-term reductions in obesity. Instead, they have spurred unintended consequences like the consumption of cheaper, unregulated alternatives—many of which are just as sugary and even less safe.

Rather than punitive taxes, we should explore incentive-driven policies that promote healthier lifestyles including, Nutrition education in schools and communities, Urban planning that encourages walking and exercise, Support for local producers of healthy food alternatives and Clearer food labelling regulations.

Let’s also remember that many beverage companies in Nigeria have already begun to reformulate their products, invest in low- and zero-sugar options, and engage in consumer education campaigns. Punishing the sector further will not accelerate progress—it will reverse it. Nigeria’s health challenges require serious solutions. But taxation is not a magic wand, and in the case of SSBs, it is a blunt instrument that may do more harm than good. We must resist the urge to copy and paste policies from other countries without examining our own realities.

What theses internationally funded agencies like CAPPA should be doing is advocating for health policies that are inclusive, data-driven, and uniquely Nigerian. Let’s not call a dog a bad name to justify hanging it.

Uwadiegwu, a Public Analyst, is a Commentator on National issues