How Bad is Tinubu’s 2025 Budget Affecting Your Wallet

2025 Budget
It was a blistering Tuesday afternoon in January when the grand hall at Aso Rock roared to life. Cameras flashed like lightning. Suited officials smiled as President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, calm but calculated, bent over a thick stack of papers. With a deliberate stroke of his pen, he signed into law Nigeria’s biggest budget ever—₦54.99 trillion.
Some hailed it as visionary. Others whispered fears. But no one doubted its weight. Tinubu called it the “Budget of Restoration.” A name heavy with hope. Hope for a country long starved of working roads, stable electricity, safe streets, and dependable schools. Hope for a people exhausted by endless economic hardship.
Musa Adamu, 42, a cobbler in Kaduna, sat outside his makeshift roadside shop. He stitched the sole of a torn sandal with care. His radio buzzed with budget news. “They talk about trillions every year,” he sighed. “But my four children still eat once a day. What’s different this time?”
He had a point.
The budget breakdown was staggering: ₦6.11 trillion for security, ₦5.99 trillion for infrastructure, ₦5.70 trillion for human capital like health and education, ₦3.73 trillion for agriculture, and ₦723.68 billion for vulnerable Nigerians. It was all on paper. And paper doesn’t fill a belly.
You can refer to this analysis of Nigeria’s 2025 health budget for more detailed insights on the healthcare budget and its impact.
In theory, these figures could transform Nigeria. But theory isn’t reality. Aisha Bello, a food vendor in Lagos, shook her head as she adjusted the price tags at her stall. “Every day I open this market, garri price has changed. Tomatoes now cost more than chicken,” she said. “They say inflation will fall to 15%. I laugh. Even salt has inflation.”
Her frustration echoed across the country.
The budget is built on bold assumptions. Government officials predict the naira will settle at ₦1,500 to the dollar. That oil production will hit 2.06 million barrels a day. That inflation—now burning at over 34%—will drop. These aren’t facts. They’re hopeful guesses. And when guesses go wrong, people suffer.
Funding the budget won’t come cheap. A big part of it leans on increasing Value-Added Tax (VAT) from 7.5% to 12.5%. Officials insist essential items like food and medicine will be exempt. But Nigerians have seen this before. When VAT goes up, everything—from pepper to pencils—follows.
“If they raise VAT, my bus fare jumps. School fees go up. My salary doesn’t,” said Chukwudi, a mechanic in Abuja. “It’s like climbing a ladder with a broken leg.”
Debt is another beast. ₦14.32 trillion is set aside just to service past debts. That’s over 25% of the entire budget. It’s like paying rent on a house you don’t live in while you sleep under a bridge.
So what’s in this for the ordinary Nigerian?
Right now, not much. Food prices are still high. Fuel scarcity keeps transportation unstable. School fees rise as parents scramble. Healthcare costs remain out of reach for the average earner. Even with higher allocations, clinics still run out of basic medicine. And electricity is more of a rumour than a reality.
But there’s another side.
Infrastructure projects could create jobs. The proposed Lagos-Calabar coastal highway, port developments, and train networks might reduce congestion and boost trade. If implemented right, these could be lifelines. If hijacked by corruption, they’ll become just another statistic.
Tax reforms aim to close loopholes, forcing billionaires to pay their fair share. If enforced, this could ease the burden on the poor. Small businesses may get access to funding through intervention programs. Farmers might finally see fertilizers that aren’t diverted before they arrive.
Still, patience is thin.
“You can’t tell a hungry man to wait for policy to work,” said Hauwa, a teacher in Jos. “We need results now. Not in two years.”
So how do everyday people survive this uncertain ride?
First, budgeting matters more than ever. Cutting luxuries, planning monthly expenses, and avoiding debt is crucial. Saving even small amounts—₦500 a week—can build a safety net.
Next, skills matter. From digital training to learning a trade, Nigerians must adapt fast. The job market is shifting. Those who can weld, fix phones, farm smart, or build apps will survive the storm.
Finally, stay informed. Budgets may be national, but the impact is personal. The more you understand where the money’s going, the better you can prepare.
Tinubu’s 2025 budget is a gamble. It wants to fix decades of decay in just a few years. It’s massive, complex, and full of both promise and risk.
The average Nigerian doesn’t need another televised signing ceremony. They need affordable rice. Safe roads. Working schools. A salary that stretches beyond week two.
Until that happens, this budget is just numbers in a fancy folder.
But it could be more. If implemented well. If money meets purpose. If promises become action. Then maybe—just maybe—Nigeria will see restoration not just on paper, but in every kitchen, classroom, and street corner.
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