Amina Yusuf clutched her faded wrapper tightly as she adjusted the plastic bowl on her head, shielding her eyes from the harsh Kano sun. The mother of four had left home at dawn, hoping to secure a bag of rice from the Aliko Dangote Foundation’s food distribution program. The crowd at the Government House was overwhelming—men, women, and even elderly people stood in long lines, waiting.
By Abdallah el-Kurebe
She sighed, shifting her weight from one leg to another. “If I get this rice today, at least my children will eat well for the next few weeks,” she whispered to the woman beside her.
For families like Amina’s, life has been tough. The rising cost of food has made even a simple meal a luxury. For weeks, she had been stretching every naira, sometimes skipping meals so her children wouldn’t go to bed hungry.
But today, hope had arrived in a white sack stamped with the Aliko Dangote Foundation logo.
One million bags, one million lves
Across Nigeria’s 774 Local Government Areas, stories like Amina’s are far too common. That is why the Aliko Dangote Foundation (ADF) launched its 2025 Annual National Food Intervention Project, a N16 billion initiative distributing one million bags of 10kg rice to the country’s most vulnerable.
Speaking at the flag-off ceremony in Kano, Aliko Dangote, represented by his daughter Marya Aliko Dangote, emphasized that the initiative was more than just an act of charity—it was a response to the harsh economic realities facing millions of Nigerians.
“We know times are difficult, and hunger is one of the greatest challenges facing our people. This intervention is about solidarity, about standing with Nigerians in their time of need,” he said.
From Kano to Sokoto, Lagos to Borno, Dangote’s trucks are moving, carrying not just rice, but relief—one bag at a time.
Hunger has no face, but its victims do
In Makurdi, Benue State, Baba Agbo, a retired civil servant, adjusted his reading glasses as he held his claim slip. At 72, he had never imagined that he would struggle to afford food.
“I worked my whole life, yet here I am, waiting for a bag of rice to survive,” he muttered, shaking his head. But when his name was finally called, his tired eyes softened. “God bless Dangote,” he whispered, lifting his sack onto his frail shoulders.
In Maiduguri, Borno State, Zainab Goni, a widow displaced by insurgency, wiped her eyes as she received her bag. “Since we left our home, feeding my children has been my biggest worry,” she said. “For the first time in a long while, I can breathe.”
From the elderly to the displaced, the single mother to the struggling trader, the pain of hunger is universal—but so is the relief that comes with a full plate.
More than just a gift
Aliko Dangote knows that one million bags of rice won’t end hunger. But he hopes it will inspire others. He has called on fellow industrialists, businesses, and philanthropists to join the fight, stressing that hunger is not just a government problem, but a collective responsibility.
“No one should go to bed hungry in a nation of plenty. The private sector must step up, because together, we can make a difference,” he urged.
The Kano State Government, aware of concerns about fair distribution, has set up a monitoring committee comprising civil society organizations (CSOs), religious leaders, and security agencies to ensure the rice reaches those who truly need it.
A legacy of giving
This is not the first time the Aliko Dangote Foundation has stepped in during times of crisis. Over the years, it has been at the forefront of humanitarian efforts in health, education, and disaster relief, both in Nigeria and beyond.
Some of its major contributions include:
✅ N153 million for Ebola response in 2014
✅ $3 million to the African Union for Ebola relief
✅ N2 billion to CACOVID for COVID-19 relief
✅ N1.2 billion for a Business School at Bayero University, Kano
✅ $1 million for earthquake victims in Nepal
Dangote’s philosophy is simple: wealth means nothing if it does not uplift others.
A bag of rice, a symbol of hope
Back in Kano, Amina Yusuf finally reached the front of the line. As volunteers handed her a 10kg bag of rice, she let out a deep breath—one of relief.
For the first time in weeks, she would cook a full meal without worrying about the next one.
Holding her sack close, she whispered, “Thank you.” Not just to Dangote, but to anyone who chooses to share, to help, to give.
Because to the hungry, a simple bag of rice is more than food—it is a reminder that they are not forgotten.
