They say poverty drives this madness: the penchant for quantity as against quality and the business acumen to capitalise on such undesirable “human” weakness.
For a Nigerian struggling to survive the rising cost of living, the difference between a genuine product selling for N10,000 and an apparently identical one offered for N6,000 can be difficult to ignore. The cheaper option may mean money saved for food, transport, school fees or another pressing household need. In such circumstances, the decision to buy a counterfeit product is not always driven by ignorance or a desire to cheat the system. Sometimes, it is driven by desperation. This is why there is a growing argument that poverty is helping to create fertile ground for the counterfeit market in Nigeria.
The logic is simple. When families have less disposable income, price becomes one of the most important considerations in deciding what to buy. A consumer who would ordinarily choose a trusted brand may begin to look for cheaper alternatives. A patient who cannot afford medicines from a reputable pharmacy may turn to an informal seller offering the same drug at a fraction of the price. A household struggling to afford food may choose cheaper products without having the means to establish whether they are genuine, properly processed or safe. Counterfeiters understand this vulnerability and exploit it.
The consequences can be particularly dangerous when the products involved are food and medicines. Unlike fake clothing, electronics or luxury goods, counterfeit and adulterated consumables can enter the human body and cause harm that may not immediately be visible. Concerns have been raised about the adulteration of food sold in some Nigerian open markets, with products such as palm oil, fruits, grains, beans, traditional swallow foods and fish reportedly exposed to unsafe processing or preservation practices.
Palm oil, for instance, has been reported to be mixed with unauthorised substances, including industrial dyes, to improve its appearance. Some fruits are artificially ripened with calcium carbide, a chemical containing impurities such as arsenic and phosphorus that can pose health risks when improperly used. There have also been reports of inappropriate chemicals being used to preserve or disguise grains and beans, while pesticides and insecticides have allegedly been misused around dried fish and stockfish to keep flies away. In some traditional food-processing practices, detergents have reportedly been added to accelerate fermentation.
What makes such practices particularly disturbing is that the consumer may have no way of knowing what has happened before the food reaches the market stall. The product may look fresh, smell normal and appear perfectly edible. Yet behind its appearance could be a chain of unsafe handling, chemical adulteration or improper preservation. The danger is therefore not only in what consumers knowingly buy, but in what they unknowingly consume.
The problem also extends into the supply chain. Expired or nearly expired factory products can reportedly find their way back into circulation after old labels are removed and the goods are repackaged in sacks, buckets or other containers. In some cases, counterfeit products are manufactured on an industrial scale, with underground operations producing fake beverages, soft drinks and bottled water. Enforcement raids have previously exposed illegal production facilities and counterfeit operations in major commercial centres.
This suggests that Nigeria’s counterfeit problem is bigger than a few traders selling imitation goods in informal markets. It can involve networks that manufacture, repackage, distribute and market products to unsuspecting consumers. By the time a fake product reaches the person who buys it, the criminal operation responsible for producing it may be several steps removed from the final transaction.
The regulatory challenge is also complicated by the sheer size and diversity of Nigeria’s food market. The National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control has clarified that it does not exercise direct oversight over every food product sold in the country. Its mandate focuses primarily on processed and packaged foods, while state and local authorities have responsibilities relating to traditionally processed foods sold in open markets. Imported fresh produce, including apples, grapes and oranges, also falls under the regulatory responsibilities of the Nigeria Agricultural Quarantine Service.
For the ordinary Nigerian, however, these distinctions between federal, state and local responsibilities can be difficult to understand. A consumer buying food in an open market is not necessarily concerned about which government agency has jurisdiction over the product. The expectation is much simpler: if something is being sold as food, it should be safe to eat.
This is why stronger coordination among regulators, better market surveillance and clearer public information are necessary. NAFDAC has urged Nigerians to report suspected unsafe products and to rely on scientific testing rather than unverified claims circulating on social media. Such warnings are important, but they must be accompanied by effective enforcement capable of removing dangerous products from circulation before they reach consumers.
Perhaps nowhere is the danger greater than in the pharmaceutical sector. A fake or substandard medicine can contain the wrong active ingredient, an inadequate quantity of the correct ingredient, no effective ingredient at all or potentially harmful substances. For a sick person, the consequences can be devastating. Instead of treating the illness, the medicine may allow the condition to worsen, delay appropriate treatment or contribute to drug resistance.
The irony is that the cheaper medicine that appears to offer relief from financial pressure may eventually cost the patient much more. When a counterfeit drug fails to treat an illness, the patient may need additional consultations, laboratory tests, hospital treatment and genuine medication. Families may be forced to borrow money or exhaust their savings to correct a problem that began with an attempt to save money.
The damage is not only financial. Patients who discover that medicines they trusted were fake may lose confidence in pharmacies, health workers, manufacturers and even regulatory institutions. The World Health Organisation has warned that falsified medical products can undermine confidence in medicines and contribute to distrust in healthcare providers and health systems. Once that trust is damaged, the consequences can extend beyond the individual who purchased the counterfeit product.
There is also the emotional burden. Families can experience anxiety, fear and trauma when they discover that a medicine or food product they believed was safe may have contributed to a serious health problem. People suffering complications may be unable to work, attend school or care for their families. Hospitals, meanwhile, bear the cost of treating conditions that could have been avoided if genuine and safe products had been used in the first place.
The wider economy also pays a price. Legitimate manufacturers and businesses lose revenue to counterfeiters who do not incur the same costs associated with proper production, quality control and regulatory compliance. Investment can be discouraged when companies are forced to compete with criminal enterprises selling cheaper imitations. The pharmaceutical industry, in particular, suffers when consumers become uncertain about the authenticity of medicines.
Yet while poverty may help explain why counterfeit products find willing buyers, it must never be mistaken for an excuse for counterfeiting. The consumer who buys a cheaper product because they cannot afford the genuine one is not the person responsible for manufacturing or distributing a dangerous imitation. The real responsibility lies with those who deliberately exploit economic hardship for profit.
The fight against counterfeit goods therefore cannot depend solely on telling Nigerians to “buy original.” That advice is incomplete when millions of people are struggling to afford the original in the first place. Nigeria must strengthen enforcement against manufacturers and distributors of fake products while making genuine medicines, food and essential consumer goods more accessible and affordable.
Consumers, too, need better information. Before buying a suspiciously cheap medicine, food product or household item, Nigerians should be encouraged to ask basic questions about its source, packaging, expiry date, registration and authenticity. Where there is doubt, consumers should seek verification rather than rely solely on the recommendation of a trader, friend or social media post.
Ultimately, the counterfeit market survives because it sits at the intersection of greed and vulnerability. The counterfeiter wants to make money from deception, while the consumer is often looking for a way to survive on less.
That is what makes the problem so difficult. A poor family may save a few thousand naira by buying a counterfeit product today, only to spend tens of thousands treating the consequences tomorrow. A patient may choose an apparently cheaper medicine and end up paying far more when the illness worsens. A nation may tolerate weak enforcement and fragmented oversight until the cost appears in hospital bills, lost productivity, declining public trust and preventable deaths.
The cheapest product, after all, is not always the one with the lowest price. Sometimes, it is simply the one whose real cost has been hidden.
Nigeria cannot afford a market where poverty forces people to choose between what they can afford and what is safe.
