AGNES Aynadanyi has farmed maize in Gurara Local Government Area (LGA) of Niger State for years, navigating the familiar anxieties of a smallholder farmer. Last season, she spent nearly everything she had on inputs. Fertiliser alone cost ₦97,000 per bag. Pesticides and herbicides took another ₦65,000. When harvest came, she expected some relief. But she would get none. Selling her produce came with new challenges as prices of food was crashing in the market. A year earlier, a measure of maize sold for between ₦1,000 and ₦2,000. In 2025, the price crashed.

“One mudu sold for N300, and I had to sell mine like that because I needed money,” she said.

A chain of events conspired against her, and at the end of that chain sits gender inequality. Other women farmers interviewed in Niger, Oyo, Nasarawa, Jigawa and Anambra under ICIR’s “Strengthening Public Accountability for Results and Knowledge (Phase 2) Project”, – Agriculture Entry Point, found themselves similarly trapped, not because of what they did, but because of who they are.

For some, the burden was even heavier. Asaba Aversion in Nasarawa and Ajuirah Chidinma in Anambra faced compounded challenges, with disability intersecting with gender to deepen the inequities they endured as farmers.

Even women without disabilities confront persistent challenges, from limited financial literacy and restricted access to land, inputs and infrastructure, to weak price regulation and poor implementation of government agricultural policies.

The losses go beyond figures in a ledger. For Agnes and many others, they include eroding motivation and declining trust in government interventions. Experts warn that these failures threaten Nigeria’s food security.

In theory, Nigeria has so much on display when it comes to gender parity in agriculture. There is the  National Gender Policy in Agriculture which the federal government initiated in 2019. Women farmer organisations like the Smallholder Women Farmers Organisation of Nigeria (SWOFON) latched onto this to strengthen their advocacy and organise women farmers nationwide.

Nigeria also boasts of a legal framework intended to guarantee inclusion. The Discrimination Against Persons with Disabilities (Prohibition) Act, 2018 prohibits discrimination against persons with disabilities and mandates accessibility, equality, and participation across public life.

The law also established the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD), charged with ensuring diversity, equality, and inclusion in all government policies. About 22 states have adopted the law in different shapes and forms. So, organisations of persons with disabilities (OPDs) abound in more than 700 LGAs in Nigeria. Yet, for many persons with disabilities, that law has not translated into equal access in practice.

Neither SOFOWON nor the OPDs have been able to save Agnes, Chidinma, and others from the uncertainties that go with farming, which gender bias complicates in Nigeria.

Oyo paternalistic land tenure and Niger’s battle with illegal miners, herders

Every planting season, Oluremi Oyetunji, a smallholder farmer in Apaadi, Oluyole Local Government Area, prays for two things: the rains and leniency from her landlord. She has to lease land yearly to farm.

“I leased the land I am using for about ₦20,000 to ₦30,000; when I tried to buy land, it was about ₦90,000 back then in 2006. Now, it is around ₦1.2 million near Ayegun, and I just cannot afford that,” she said.

Oyetunji’s dependence on short-term land leases left her unable to plan for the future or expand production. The same thing happened to Motunrayo Olusola, a mother of five, who began farming maize five years ago. She leased land from a landowner whose sons forced her to leave prematurely, making her sell her produce cheaply at a loss rather than waiting for it to dry and fetch a higher price.

“If you want to lease land for two to three years, most landowners will not agree; they only want yearly leasing,” she said.

The problem is nationwide. Data from the World Bank shows that only eight per cent of Nigerian women own land in their own names—one of the lowest ownership rates in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Most women access farmland through husbands, family networks or short-term lease agreements. A 2022 study in the African Journal of Land Policy estimated that Nigerian women operate on an average of just 0.43 hectares, usually leased for a single season. A related study also confirmed that women’s access to land in Nigeria often depends on their relationships with husbands or male relatives.

To circumvent these barriers, many women now register farms under company names or bring male relatives for authentication.

Even when women are willing to buy, soaring land prices put land ownership out of reach. An acre in Akinyele LGA now sells for between N2 million and N2.5 million. Many women farmers cannot afford this.

A Dataphyte analysis reveals peri-urban land values around Ibadan have increased fivefold in the last decade due to housing estates, road expansion, and government acquisitions.

The state’s farm settlements are also overcrowded. The Oyo State Ministry of Agriculture confirmed that seven of them were occupied nearly five decades ago, with men still making up 60–70 per cent of beneficiaries.

But Agriculture Commissioner Olasunkanmi, Olaleye insisted land is available for all. “It has never been one of the major challenges of smallholder women farmers,” she said, emphasising government support through tractor subsidies, input distribution and access to improved seeds.

But Atinuke Akinbade, SWOFON Oyo state coordinator, said only a few had accesses to farmland. “When our women apply, they are told settlements are full or unavailable.”

Experts say women’s weak land rights threaten food security and agricultural resilience. Jaye Yekini, Project Manager at White-green Development Services, said land insecurity affects smallholder farmers, especially in the Southwest.

Like Oyo, like Niger

Land insecurity in Oyo is mirrored and magnified in Niger State, where the struggle for farmland is no longer just about patriarchal tenure systems or rising prices. It has become a battle for survival against invasive gold miners and cattle herders who destroy crops, drive women off their ancestral lands, and turn fertile fields into pits and wastelands.

Comfort Joseph, a farmer in Gurara LGA, abandoned her farm after gold miners destroyed it, forcing her to relocate kilometers away for viable land.

“They made me to vacate the land on which I had farmed for years. I had to get another farm in another village, which is some kilometres away. The way they have affected the land, in 10 to 15 years, no one can farm there, and the crops will yield results.”

For others like Alice Amako in Agaie LGA, the threat comes from herders who graze cattle through their fields. She recounted her losses with frustration.

“I planted cassava and I spent a lot of money on it. The cows entered and ate up everything. On the money I spent before it was wasted, I would say it was up to ₦200,000. When I went to complain, the police said they would look into it, but they have done nothing about it till today.”

Access to Inputs, Infrastructure denied 

Also in Niger State, women farmers like Agnes Aynadanyi have long found ways to work around land tenure bias. In Paikoro LGA, Jummai Makama and Aishatu Bawa relied on informal arrangements. In Gurara LGA, Priscilla Sado did the same. In Agaie LGA, Halima Mohammed cultivated borrowed land. None of it was secure, but for years, it worked.

With access to subsidised fertiliser and other inputs, they often ended the season with modest profits. The economics was simple. Lower production costs combined with stable market prices meant farming was worth the effort.

In 2024, Mohammed sold a bag of beans for between ₦130,000 and ₦180,000. A measure sold for as much as ₦3,000. Maize also traded at favourable prices, selling for about ₦1,000 per measure.

That balance collapsed in 2025.

Women farmers across Niger State lost access to the subsidised inputs they had relied on. At the same time, government import policies flooded markets with cheaper alternatives, pushing prices sharply downward.

Maize prices crashed from about ₦1,000 per measure to between ₦250 and ₦400. Beans fell from as high as ₦150,000 per bag to about ₦70,000. A measure that once sold for ₦2,800 to ₦3,000 dropped to between ₦1,500 and ₦1,700.

Farmers who waited for better prices were stuck with unsold produce, while those who sold early barely broke even. Either way, their profit virtually disappeared.

“This year, the highest we can sell our beans is N80,000, which is not encouraging,” Mohammed said. adding: “Not after buying fertiliser and chemicals very costly and not getting anything for your effort in the farm.”

Market leaders also play a role in price regulation across Niger State. They determine transportation and grain prices, and then decide how much a farmer should make, according to Ndatu Ibrahim, a market leader in Paikoro.

Another market women leader, Zainab Mohammed, said that they try to ensure uniform pricing.  Anyone who violates the agreement risks having her produce banned from the market.

In 2024, Niger State Governor Umaru Mohammed Bago inaugurated the Niger State Price Control and Monitoring Board. The eight-member committee has yet to make any visible impact. With no effective oversight, market leaders have taken control, often to the disadvantage of farmers.

“What the government should have done is to encourage the farmer by not opening the door for import,” Alhaji Usman Liman, a statistician and farmer in the state noted.

Halima Mohammed said she has resigned herself to fate.

In Anambra, smallholder women count losses too

The crisis is not confined to Oyo and Niger States. In Anambra, Southeast Nigeria, consumers briefly benefited from cheaper food while smallholder farmers were left counting their losses as they were forced to sell at giveaway prices.

“We sold our maize for ₦300 per mudu even though inputs cost us more than double last year,” Fabian Nweke, a farmer who resides in Igbariam community, Anambra East LGA said.

The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) data confirms what farmers have been experiencing. Food prices remained elevated in early 2025, but the rally reversed by September, when Nigeria recorded its first month‑on‑month drop in food prices in over a decade.

According to the NBS Consumer Price Index (CPI), year‑on‑year food inflation began 2025 at 26.08% in January, compared to the same month in 2024. By September 2025, food inflation had moderated to 16.87%, a sharp decline from 37.77% in September 2024. Even more striking, the month‑on‑month food inflation rate printed at –1.57%, signalling an actual fall in food prices during that month.

Meanwhile, farm inputs keep costing more. Farmers say that fertilizer which once sold for between N18,000 and N30,000 is now ₦60,000, when available.

The Niger State government had promised the Smallholder Women Farmers Organisation of Nigeria (SWOFON) 300 bags of fertiliser. The group received only 60.

Niger women farmers finger politicians

Some women farmers also accused politicians of hijacking tractor distribution and subsidised fertiliser meant for them.

Pricilla Sado, who farms groundnut, melon, rice, beans and cassava in Agaie, lamented the high cost of renting farm machinery every year.

“This year, I hired a tractor for ₦70,000 because my cousin knew the owner,” she said. “Last year, someone else charged me ₦110,000 just to clear and till the land.”

“We do not have access to government owned tractors. We hear that they bring it, but it is the politicians that hijack it. It is the same thing with fertilizer.”

Some women alleged that tractors were being hoarded by the Niger State Agricultural and Mechanisation Development Agency (NAMDA), which maintains that it has none, despite tractors being sighted at its offices in Minna.

Poor access to farming infrastructure extends beyond machinery. Across the country, storage and processing facilities are largely absent.

In Niger State, many women rely on traditional storage methods such as ash, insecticides or rat poison, locally called bomb, which they tie in rags to repel pests. Beans and maize are among the crops preserved this way. Farmers say they do it to avoid losses and secure better prices.

“When I want to sell, I take the produce and spread it on the floor for a day or two so that the sun can heat it and remove any smell or residue from the chemical we use,” one of the farmers said.

A nutritionist, Hajiya Asmau Mohammed, said the practice is common in many parts of the world, especially in areas with high humidity or long storage periods. She suggested that combining safer chemical and non-chemical methods could reduce risks.

But a health consultant, Mathew Oladele, disagreed. “Rat bomb has a tendency to cause multiple organs failures in human beings, just as it does to the rats,” he warned.

Facilities matter in Anambra

In Anambra, the women farmers’ concern for infrastructure is different. How to store their produce before they get them to the market for sale is a major challenge.

Nkechi Obah, a smallholder farmer in Atani, Ogbaru LGA, could not wait for her cassava to fully mature during the 2024 farming season. The floods were approaching, and the only way out was early harvest. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to even store her produce after harvest.

Other farmers who had more time relied on traditional preservation methods, including pits for short-term storage of fresh cassava roots, or jute sacks, woven polypropylene bags, and perforated sacks. But these methods are far from reliable. Loose bags invite insects and rodents, which chew through and infest the tubers before they can be processed.

But Obah had no time to contemplate all these storage options.

“I was willing to process everything at once,” she recalled.

“Before long, many of my cassava tubers got spoilt. I also sold them at giveaway price at the market.”

Every harvest season, thousands of cassava farmers like her watch their hard work go to waste.

The irony, however, is stark. Anambra remains one of the key cassava-producing states in Nigeria. And women dominate the entire value chain, with yearly production increasing from about 276,000 metric tons in 2014 to over 2.1 million metric tons by 2021, according to the state government. But nearly a third of the cassava produced, about 32%, goes to waste after harvest, a 2024 study published in the Global Journal of Agricultural Research (GJAR) confirmed. The culprits are well known: inadequate storage facilities, poor road networks, and unreliable electricity and transportation systems.

Governor Chukwuma Soludo has repeatedly pledged to leverage agricultural programs, including cassava production, to boost food security and stimulate economic growth. At the launch of the “Farm to Feed Campaign” in August 2024, he claimed his administration had improved rural infrastructure to minimize post-harvest losses.

But interviews with farmers tell a different story. Despite government assurances, arable farmers across Anambra say they continue to suffer huge losses, with little evidence of the promised improvements reaching their communities.

“We are often forced to remove our crops whether or not they are mature for harvest. But we don’t have anywhere to store them so we can make some profit after investment. At this time, you have plenty cassava in the market everybody wants to sell to avoid losing completely,” said Calista Ewuzie, a cassava farmer in Ubahu Ihembosi, Ekwusigo LGA.

She added that there is no single processing facility in her community, forcing farmers to travel to Ozubulu or Ukpor, about 20 to 30 minutes away, at a cost of over N4,000 on motorcycle

A national concern 

Nigeria is the world’s largest cassava producer, contributing about 18% of global output (roughly 61 million metric tons annually). However, the country loses an estimated $9–$10 billion each year to post‑harvest losses, with cassava alone accounting for around 35% of losses in roots and tubers.

Between 2019 and 2023, Nigeria’s cassava production climbed from 56.96 to 62.69 million tons, a 10 percent increase that keeps the country ahead of Brazil, Thailand, and Indonesia. Yet, the country only captures 2% of the massive $183 billion global cassava processing market.

At this year’s World Cassava Day World Cassava Day, Vice-President Kashim Shettima repeated the regular promise—that the federal government remains committed to turning cassava into a driver of industrialization.

The Anambra government made a similar promise at Igbariarim, Anambra East LGA, last April.

But for farmers like Rosemary Uchechukwu at Oye Igbariarim, these assurances ring hollow.

“Beyond moving bulldozers up and down, we have not seen much commitment,” she said.

She explained how farmers who escaped premature harvest cope with moving their cassava for processing along an arterial road that has been under construction in the community. Farmers pay N5,000 for a tricycle cart to convey cassava to the community market, a journey that should take about 15 minutes on a good road and 25–30 minutes on a bad one.

“A government that shows such apathy to transportation cannot show any excitement at providing processing facilities,” Rosemary added.

It becomes more disappointing when the intervention of non-governmental organisations also fails to ease the women’s pain. That is the experience of SWOFON members.

In 2023, the Women’s Rights Advancement and Protection Alternative, with support from the Malala Fund, supplied manual cassava processing machines to women farmers in Anambra West, Anambra East, Ogbaru and Awka North, working through SWOFON.

To use the machines, members of the cooperative rented a space at ₦122,000 a year and hired an operator, paying ₦35,000 monthly, according to Onwuegbuka Rose, SWOFON coordinator in Anambra East.

Even then, the support fell short. Findings show that the machines installed at the centre are insufficient for the volume of cassava brought in by farmers for processing.

Okonyia Elizabeth, a farmer who oversees the processing centre, said the women were never consulted on what equipment was needed, where the facility should be located, or how it should operate.

A similar pattern emerged in March 2024, when the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) funded Value Chain Development Programme (VCDP) put up a structure that was supposed to serve as a Cassava Processing Center in Umunankwo, Aguata LGA. The programme, designed to support rice and cassava farmers through improved value chains, received land donated by the community in anticipation of the facility easing the burden of processing.

“We were all happy because it was in our community and was going to help us address the stress of carrying cassava to far distances”, a woman farmer said. “They told us that they will bring the machines as soon as possible”.

More than a year after the structure was completed, not a single machine has been installed.

With efficient technology largely absent, many farmers still rely on frying pans, knives for peeling, sieves and manual presses. The methods slow production and take a toll on their health.

The Global Alliance for Clean Cookstoves has warned that reliance on fuel wood is among the world’s most serious health and environmental challenges. About half of the global population is affected, contributing to an estimated four million premature deaths each year. Between 2.1 and 2.3 billion people depend on polluting fuels such as wood, charcoal and coal, often burned in open fires or inefficient stoves.

In Nigeria, studies among rural cassava processors show that the use of biomass fuels exposes users to high levels of fine particulate matter, black carbon and sulphur dioxide. Such exposure has been linked to upper and lower respiratory infections, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, asthma, cancer, low birth weight, cataracts and blindness.

Ngozi Okagbue, a garri producer, has experienced some of these effects. She earned ₦9,600 frying 12 cement bags of garri, work that has taken a toll on her respiratory health.

“I always buy drugs, malt and milk for body pain when we return home because our bodies hurt after work,” she said.

She returns to the same work despite her condition. “It is where I make my living,” she added.

Strikes against women with disabilities

Ajuirah Chidinma, another SWOFON member in Awka North, Anambra State, does not suffer from a major health condition. She has a disability which has become a barrier to her participation and that of others like her in the Soludo Farm to Feed campaign.

But in November 2022, local government officials asked her to come for her share of cassava stems, rice, and corn seedlings.

As the leader of the organization of persons with disabilities (OPD) in her community, she was hopeful until distribution started.

“The inputs were handed over to individuals who were called women leaders instead of to us directly,” she recalled.

“They (the so – called women leaders) loaded the supplies into their vehicles and left without telling us where to meet them.”

She had to buy cassava seedlings and other inputs on her own. The experience was not new.

Chidinma said no one was held accountable for diverting farm inputs meant for persons with disabilities.

Globally, an estimated 1.3 billion people, one in every six, live with a disability, according to the World Health Organisation. About 80 per cent of them live in low- and middle-income countries that depend heavily on agriculture. Over 700 million are women.

In Nigeria, there are approximately 35.5 million persons with disabilities, according to the National Commission for Persons with Disabilities (NCPWD). Although there is no reliable gender breakdown, many are smallholder farmers who contribute significantly to agricultural output.

Anambra adopted the 2018 Disability Rights Law that prohibits exclusion of PWDs. In practice, however, many remain shut out of agricultural interventions. More than 5,000 persons with disabilities live in the state, according to Ugochukwu Okeke, Chairman, Joint National Association of Persons with Disabilities in Anambra.

Bridget Anichebe, a rice and cassava farmer in Ayemelum LGA, said official attitudes during input distribution are often dismissive.

“We usually wait until everything has been shared, then they tell us to go home because we do not need the inputs,” said the polio survivor, describing what she called beggarly treatment.

There are agencies mandated to cater to the needs of women farmers with disabilities. Anambra has a disability commission, but farmers interviewed said they could not point to any concrete intervention.

The same was true in other states covered by this report.

Insurance that excludes

In Niger State, women farmers raised similar concerns about agricultural insurance.

The state has the Agriculture Mechanisation Development Agency, while the National Agricultural Insurance Corporation also operates a state office. Yet smallholder farmers like Jummai Makama, a SWOFON member in Paikoro, say the schemes remain out of reach.

Makama said she paid her insurance premium last year. When termites invaded her farm, she contacted her extension officer to report the loss.

“You didn’t report within 24 hours,” the officer told her.

“How could I know my farm had failed within 24 hours?” she asked.

For many rural farmers, insurance feels like another promise that ends in the city. Some said they were asked to fill forms in English or submit photographs as evidence, requirements many could not meet. Others said they did not own phones capable of taking pictures.

Even extension officers meant to provide guidance focus mainly on registration, farmers said.

“No sensitisation or training at all. All they want is the registration fee and premium,” Makama said.

Others complained about the distance to insurance offices and the time involved. “You cannot leave your village, travel to town and be given conditions you cannot meet,” another farmer said.

Halima Mohammed, SWOFON coordinator in the area, said insurance had been a recurring topic at meetings.

“If the insurance wants us to join, they should come to us, not wait for us to come to them,” she said.

She added that many women lacked the financial literacy needed to navigate insurance and loan schemes, especially when they were asked to repay high-interest rates even after suffering losses.

Blame games

As weak policy implementation and limited financial literacy raise costs, drive down profits, and restrict access to land, inputs, storage, processing facilities, loans and insurance, women farmers say they are losing motivation.

With that erosion comes a larger risk. Nigeria’s food security.

Governments have struggled to provide answers. In Niger State, officials insist agricultural policies are gender sensitive and reject claims that input diversion is state sanctioned.

“Everybody knows input costs are very high. Even male farmers can hardly afford them,” said Mohammed Alibaba, head of the Niger State Agricultural Mechanisation Development Agency.

In Anambra, the government acknowledged that women with disabilities have specific needs but said engagement must be mutual.

”But they don’t expect us to know about their challenges if they don’t inform us.  If they are left out during distributions, they should speak out,” said Ifeyinwa Uzoka, permanent secretary, Ministry of Agriculture.

“While we might not be completely right in our approach, they cannot also be absolved of blame too”.

On post-harvest losses, Uzoka said at least eight of Anambra’s 21 local government areas were already benefiting from government interventions, adding that the ministry was seeking donor funded programmes to expand coverage.

In Oyo State, SWOFON coordinator Kemi Akinbade proposed that government allocate farmland directly to women farmers struggling under patriarchal land tenure systems.

“Our members can farm in clusters and benefit more effectively from interventions,” she said.

Yet across states, responsibility continues to bounce between governments and farmer organisations. In Niger, many women say they have lost faith.

“When we face any problem, we pray,” Mohammed and her colleagues in Agaie LGA said. “We are used to depending on God because government people always disappoint us.”

In Anambra, some farmers go further, alleging scams. Given the repeated failures and unmet promises, suspicion is not particularly difficult to understand.

Sack farming more sustainable

One innovation, however, has shown that inclusion is possible.

Asaba Aversion has lived both sides of the struggle as a woman with a disability and a farmer. She and her husband, also a person with disability, once struggled to feed themselves in Lafia, Nasarawa State. Access to food was so difficult that she sometimes crawled to the market when no one could help her run errands.

That hardship has eased.

After learning sack farming, Asaba began growing yams, tomatoes and vegetables within her compound. Today, she and her husband produce much of what they eat.

For her, sack farming solves a fundamental problem. Even when government distributes farm inputs, many women with disabilities cannot benefit because they lack access to land.

With sack farming, however, “you can plant right in your home,” she explained. “You can place the sack near your doorstep, water it in the morning and go about your day. Anytime you need vegetables, you simply pluck them.”

Asaba is among hundreds of women trained by Global Initiative for Food Security and Ecosystem Preservation (GIFSEP), a non-profit organisation under the urban farming initiative launched in 2024 The initiative equips persons with disabilities, especially those with mobility challenges, with skills and resources to grow food at home.

SWOFON has realised the sack farming benefits go beyond access to PWDs. It called on the state government to learn from the ongoing initiative and extend similar support to women farmers in Nasarawa.

Agnes in Niger, Chidinma in Anambra, Mohammed and many others across the country could benefit from such an approach.

This report was made possible with support from the International Centre for Investigative Reporting (ICIR) under the Strengthening Public Accountability for Results and Knowledge (SPARK 2.2) project.