The Great Grain Drain

Hi, Hannatu here,

Let's get this out of the way: Nigerian jollof is superior.

Ghanaians can argue for second place, but the Senegalese (who invented the dish) will definitely have words.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth behind our beloved jollof wars: most of that rice isn't even ours. 

It’s from Vietnam or Thailand.

Nigeria produces over 8 million tons of rice annually. It's Africa's biggest producer. 

Yet, it also imports another 2 million tons, and spends $2 billion to do so.

That doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? 

This phenomenon is spread across West Africa.

Ghana spent $280 million importing rice in 2024. And Senegal dropped $564 million.

But if you look East, things are different. 

Tanzania produces 3 million tons, and exports rice to its neighbours. Uganda is close to achieving self-sufficiency. 

Same crop. Same continent. Completely opposite outcomes. 

West Africa also has the right climate, plenty of land, and farmers who know how to grow rice. 

So why are the outcomes so different? Let me tell you…

To understand this, let’s put Nigeria and Tanzania side by side. 

Both have similar climates, large rural populations, and governments that agree that rice is important.

But their approaches differ sharply.

Let’s start from policy.

In 2009, Tanzania launched the National Rice Development Strategy (NRDS). 

The strategy had one goal: double rice production by 2019.

The government executed it immaculately:

The result?

Tanzania's rice production nearly doubled between 2010 and 2020. 

And in 2019, Tanzania launched the second part of the strategy to build up its export capacity.

A World Bank report even called rice a "strategic priority" for the country.

And now, over 1.7 million farmers in Tanzania now grow rice.

The country has spent 40 years trying to ban its way to rice self-sufficiency.

In 1985, the government banned rice imports. Local production didn't increase.

In 2015, they tried again with a full import ban. Production still didn't rise.

A year later, they partially lifted it, allowing imports only through seaports with heavy tariffs. 

In 2023, Nigeria changed the tariff rates again.

Each policy change promised to boost local production. 

Every single one did the opposite. 

The gap between what Nigeria grew and what Nigerians ate kept widening.

Between 2021 and 2025, a 50kg bag of foreign rice jumped from ₦30,000 ($21) to ₦115,000 (82). 

Families who could afford rice before couldn't anymore.

But the policy whiplash wasn't even the biggest bug.

While the government was busy tweaking tariffs, the real problems went unaddressed:

Nigeria was arguing over import duties while its farms were literally underwater or overrun.

You'd think that was the hard part. It wasn't.

About 29 of Nigeria's 36 states produce rice.

But even when farmers in these states did manage to grow rice against all odds, they hit a processing wall.

With an unreliable power grid, rice millers run on expensive diesel generators. 

Transporting rice from farms to mills to markets costs even more. 

And with only 268 mills serving the entire country, capacity is already stretched thin.

The result? Mills started shutting down. 

Local rice suddenly costs more to produce than imported rice. 

Foreign rice that lands in Lagos is cheaper than local rice produced in Kebbi. 

That’s game over for competition.

Now, Nigeria is split into two: 

This creates a vicious cycle. 

As local mills close, farmers have fewer buyers. 

With fewer buyers, farmers reduce production. Lower production means more imports. More imports undercut the remaining local producers.

Tanzania avoided this trap with consistency. 

When production costs rose, the government kept its tariffs in place to protect farmers. 

And when farmers faced challenges, the cooperative structure provided a support network.

So, what really separates the two outcomes?

First, there’s policy. 

Tanzania treated rice self-sufficiency as a long-term goal. 

Nigeria treated rice like just another commodity, subject to changing political priorities.

Next, infrastructure 

Tanzania focused on small-scale irrigation accessible to smallholder farmers. They built systems farmers could actually use and maintain.

Nigeria built some large irrigation schemes that often underperformed.

And small-scale systems that could benefit more farmers received less attention. 

The Network 

Tanzania's cooperatives gave farmers collective bargaining power. They could negotiate better prices for their rice, and also access larger credit backed by the government.

Nigerian rice farmers mostly operate alone. 

Each negotiates individually with buyers. 

Each absorbs full costs of inputs and equipment. 

Each faces market volatility without group support.

Finally,  post-harvest infrastructure 

Tanzania invested in milling and storage near production areas. Farmers can process and store rice locally, reducing losses and improving quality.

Nigeria's milling capacity concentrates in certain areas, requiring long transport from many production zones. Storage facilities are inadequate.

Farmers often sell immediately after harvest at low prices because they have nowhere to store grain.

Rice self-sufficiency is proven achievable in African conditions.

Tanzania did it. Uganda is doing it. And Rwanda is making progress.

The requirements are clear: consistent policy support, accessible infrastructure, strong farmer organizations, and patient commitment to long-term development rather than quick fixes.

For West Africa, the choice is clear.

Continue spending billions on imports while local production potential sits underutilized. Or commit to the sustained investment and policy consistency that turned Tanzania into a rice exporter.

The crop grows well in both regions.

The difference is what governments choose to do about it.

Maybe the real jollof war isn't Ghana vs. Nigeria.

Maybe it's local farmers vs. failed policy.

What's the point of winning the Twitter argument if we're all losing the food security battle?

👉🏾Tell me what you think.

Cheers,