By Queen Nwabueze
Once upon a time, before hashtags became prophecies and marketing briefs started quoting Harvard case studies, there was a little thing called authenticity. And in Nigeria, authenticity looked like Chivita’s old school ads with people drinking juice inside danfo, or like that Peak Milk jingle your mum used to sing while making Saturday akara. That thing – Nigerianness was the magic sauce.
But these days, it seems everyone wants to sound like they’re marketing to tech bros or Soho yuppies. One brand is using phrases like “empowering millennial ecosystems through holistic experiences.” Another is telling us they offer “bespoke culinary journeys for the modern palate” and it’s freaking jollof rice they’re selling.
We have to talk.
And just one question shoots up like the meteor here: When Did Local Stop Being Cool?
The obsession with sounding global has made many Nigerian brands lose their soul. From fintechs to fashion, telcos to table water, everybody is in a rat race to out-English themselves, all in a bid to be seen as “world-class.” But in the process, many are becoming world-lost – completely disconnected from the people who actually buy their products.
Let’s call it what it is: Branding amnesia.
Because when a microfinance bank in Okokomaiko is advertising like it’s a fintech unicorn in San Francisco, we have a problem.
From W.H.E.R.E. did we ever get the notion that local is inferior?
Look around. Some of the strongest brands in Nigeria today are those that refused to bleach their cultural identity.
Think Indomie. That brand is not just selling noodles, it’s selling childhood, family, late-night hostel hunger, and mummy’s 5-minute magic dinner. Their campaigns are loud, animated and proudly Nigerian. You don’t see Indomie pretending to be ramen from Kyoto. Nah. It’s noodles with pepper and egg and the entire country laps it up.
Or take Paga. Instead of competing with PayPal’s polished global tone, they focus on solving real, relatable problems like “sending mama money for soup ingredients.” That’s brand relevance. That’s understanding your market.
So why you dey use queen’s English for Oshodi market? Let’s be honest, the average Nigerian doesn’t speak in brand book lingo. They speak in proverbs, pidgin, punchlines and parables. They communicate with body language, with innuendo, with shared cultural context. That’s why when MTN or Glo uses street slang or Yoruba adages in their campaigns, we feel it in our chest. It connects.
You can’t build emotional resonance using borrowed tongues.
You can’t tell a woman selling tomatoes in Mile 12 about your “product’s transformative synergies.” But tell her it will “move market sharp sharp” and you just sold her.
Brethren, cultural relevance is free. Please use it!
You don’t need a global agency to make your brand relatable. What you need is a listening ear and an open mind. Stop trying to write like a New York Times columnist. Write like your customer.
Local authenticity is not only cheaper, it’s more effective.
Take Rite Foods’ Bigi drinks. The name is street. The flavour names are street. The price is street. Their marketing? Even more street. They own radio, own campus activations and own comedy skits. They even jumped on trends like #BigiBreaksBarriers in the way only a culturally intelligent brand could.
Meanwhile, some other brands are out here releasing $10,000 campaigns to push one new sparkling water flavour, only to end up with 13 likes on Instagram.
When was the last time you watched a Nigerian ad and it made you laugh not because it was trying too hard, but because it understood you? That’s what we miss.
We miss the Heartland energy of old Star Lager commercials. We miss the jollof wars between Ghana and Nigeria. We miss the sound of a grandmother’s voice in a campaign, telling you about the “good old days” and then tying it to a product.
This is NOT asking brands to be village champions. We’re asking them to be culturally fluent.
A return to our story? Very yes!
There’s a reason Asake sells out shows. There’s a reason Sabinus cracks you up. There’s a reason Alabere Market Woman on TikTok can make more impact than a TVC.
They understand local story. They are walking, talking examples of how being deeply Nigerian, deeply relatable, is a superpower.
So, dear brand managers, can we stop obsessing over sounding like Apple? Nigeria doesn’t need another minimalist, grey-toned, passive-aggressive campaign with one candle and two slow piano chords.
What we need is noise. Colour. Slangs. Vim. Stories that sound like our uncles told them over ogogoro at night. Stories that feel like pepper soup after rain.
We need to hear ourselves in your marketing.
The street is not a demographic, it’s a vibe.
You’re not marketing to “Youth Segment Aged 18–35.” You’re marketing to Tolu that just started her hair business. To Emeka who’s doing deliveries on his okada. To Hauwa who just learned to make TikTok videos and is now an influencer in Bauchi.
Speak their language. Know their pain points. Earn their trust.
The real flex isn’t in sounding foreign. It’s in sounding familiar.
It’s action time. It’s time to bring back the local hero. The brand that knows the difference between Egusi and Afang. The brand that respects the hustle of Bariga boys and the brilliance of Aba tailors. The brand that can decode “wahala be like bicycle” without asking Google.
In the war for relevance, the winner won’t be the brand that sounds the most global. It’ll be the one that feels the most Nigerian.
So next time you’re about to launch a campaign, ask yourself: Would my mother understand this? Would my neighbour forward this on WhatsApp? Would someone shout this in Oshodi and people would nod?
If the answer is no, go back to the drawing board, abeg.
The return of the local hero is not a trend. It’s a marketing renaissance. And if you do it right, your brand won’t just grow, it will belong.
