In the evolving landscape of public health in Nigeria, where undernutrition once defined the national nutrition narrative, a new enemy has emerged: obesity. In the midst of this shift, Dr. Opeyemi Olamide Akintimehin has emerged as a vital voice and data-driven problem solver. Her landmark doctoral research, titled “Diet Quality and Obesity Among Adults in Three Southwestern States in Nigeria,” submitted to the University of Ibadan, sheds critical light on the paradox of rising obesity levels amid widespread micronutrient deficiencies.
At a time when much of the policy and public discourse focuses on hunger and food insecurity, Akintimehin’s research reframes the conversation. “Nigeria is now experiencing a double burden of malnutrition,” she explains. “We are seeing populations that are both overweight and deficient in essential nutrients like calcium, vitamin A, and folate.” Her words are grounded in a robust cross-sectional study that surveyed 2,400 adults across 39 communities in Ogun, Osun, and Oyo states using a sophisticated four-stage sampling method.
The study’s findings are as startling as they are urgent. While 25.1% of the surveyed population was overweight and 11.8% obese, only 3.5% met adequate calcium intake levels. Even more revealing, nearly all participants had only average diet quality based on the internationally recognized Diet Quality Index-International (DQI-I), with a meager 2.8% classified as having high-quality diets. “We’re not just dealing with excess calories,” says Akintimehin. “We’re dealing with poor-quality calories, energy-dense but nutrient-poor diets driven by convenience, urbanization, and limited dietary awareness.”
The research goes further, showing that diet quality alone was not a significant predictor of obesity, while energy intake was. Adults consuming excess calories were statistically more likely to be obese, yet their diet quality often remained average or poor. The implications for public health are profound: calorie intake and nutrient adequacy must be addressed simultaneously, not in isolation.
Akintimehin’s research is not only timely but methodologically rigorous. She combined a multi-pass 24-hour dietary recall, BMI and waist circumference measurements, and nutrient adequacy assessments to paint a holistic picture of the nutritional health of the region. The strength of her approach lies in its clarity: “Our problem isn’t just quantity, it’s quality. A high body mass index doesn’t mean you’re well-nourished.”
Her analysis also revealed gender disparities. Women were disproportionately affected by abdominal obesity (33.9%) compared to men (10.5%), a statistic with major implications for maternal and reproductive health. “This is not just a weight issue. It’s about how dietary patterns, food access, and lifestyle intersect with gender and socioeconomic realities in Nigeria,” she adds.
Her work aligns with global trends in nutritional epidemiology and complements World Health Organization data showing the rising prevalence of non-communicable diseases in developing countries. But where global statistics often generalize, Akintimehin brings specificity. Her data maps the nutrition landscape of Nigeria with precision and clarity that policymakers and public health officials cannot afford to ignore.
In a country where nutrition is often framed as a question of hunger, Akintimehin’s research reframes the issue as one of complexity and transition. The old binaries of malnourished vs. fed no longer apply. In their place stands a more nuanced understanding that poor diet quality can coexist with obesity and that the path to better health must begin with education, policy, and food system transformation.
Her work is a call to action for Nigeria’s health sector, one that demands we look beyond empty plates and begin to ask tougher questions about what’s actually on them. “Nutrition is not just a personal issue, it’s a national development issue,” she concludes.
In the bustling corridors of the University of Ibadan’s Department of Human Nutrition and Dietetics, one woman’s research is quietly rewriting the story of nutrition in Nigeria. Dr. Opeyemi Olamide Akintimehin, a biochemist turned human nutritionist, has become an unlikely public health trailblazer with her pioneering thesis. It is a piece of scholarship that doesn’t just sit quietly on an academic shelf. It screams for attention in policy rooms, health institutions, and households across the country.
“Obesity is not a rich man’s disease anymore,” she says. “And undernutrition is no longer the only threat to Nigeria’s public health. We are now dealing with the triple burden of malnutrition.” The narrative around food insecurity in Nigeria has long been about hunger, stark images of empty plates and malnourished children. But Akintimehin’s research introduces a complex and unsettling reality: many Nigerian adults are overweight or obese, yet simultaneously starved of essential nutrients.
Her study surveyed 2,400 adults across Ogun, Osun, and Oyo States using a rigorous four-stage random sampling method, an ambitious scope that makes the findings both locally nuanced and nationally resonant. The data uncovered a nutritional paradox. While over 25% of adults were overweight and nearly 12% were obese, less than 4% consumed adequate calcium. Vitamin A and vitamin C adequacy hovered at under 7%. In simpler terms “People are eating more,” she says, “but they’re not eating right.”
For a country transitioning rapidly from traditional diets to energy-dense, Western-style food habits, Akintimehin’s work comes as both a diagnosis and a warning. Using the internationally validated Diet Quality Index-International (DQI-I), she measured not just what people ate, but how well their meals aligned with nutritional standards. “This is not a dietary crisis caused by scarcity alone,” she explains. “It’s a crisis caused by poor choices, low awareness, and systemic shifts in food culture.”
The findings showed energy intake was a statistically significant predictor of obesity, meaning that people consuming excess calories were much more likely to be overweight or obese. But interestingly, diet quality itself was not a strong predictor of obesity. The body was expanding, but the nutrition wasn’t improving.
“This tells us something powerful,” she notes. “Calories alone are not enough to define health. We must move the national conversation from quantity to quality.”
Her thesis also paints a gendered picture of the crisis. Women were disproportionately affected by abdominal obesity. The implications stretch beyond aesthetics or personal health. “Women are the primary caregivers and food gatekeepers in many Nigerian homes,” she says. “If they are nutritionally compromised, the ripple effects touch children, families, and entire communities.” What this means, Akintimehin emphasizes, is that nutrition isn’t just a personal issue. It’s a development issue. A gender equity issue. A public health emergency.
Her research arrives at a time when global organizations like the World Health Organization and the Food and Agriculture Organization are urging governments to confront the complex dynamics of the so-called double burden of malnutrition, where undernutrition and overnutrition exist side by side. In Akintimehin’s study, that paradox isn’t theoretical; it’s painfully real.
Raised in southwestern Nigeria and trained in biochemistry at Babcock University before earning a Master’s in Human Nutrition and PhD in Public Health Nutrition at the University of Ibadan, she has spent years grappling with Nigeria’s changing food landscape. From internships to grassroots nutrition campaigns, her journey has always returned to one fundamental question: “What are Nigerians really eating and what is it doing to their health?”
Collecting data across 39 communities, conducting 24-hour dietary recalls, and analyzing countless nutrient breakdowns, her research combines hard science with human stories. She recalls meeting market women living on fizzy drinks and white bread, and mothers unknowingly feeding their children calorie-heavy but micronutrient-poor diets. “They’re not neglectful,” she says. “They just don’t know. And the system doesn’t help them.” Her research assistants, many of them students and early-career health workers, played a critical role in ensuring that the data collection honored the real lives of respondents. “Every data point in this study is a person with a story,” she reminds us.
The implications of her work are far-reaching. First, it disrupts long-held assumptions about what food insecurity looks like in Nigeria. Second, it calls for immediate action from the health sector, the education system, and food policymakers. She proposes three strategic interventions:
Nationwide Nutrition Education – “People need to understand that being full is not the same as being nourished.” Food Fortification and Subsidy Programs – Especially for micronutrients like calcium, folate, and vitamin A, which remain critically low. Revamping Local Dietary Guidelines – Using data-driven insights to make Nigeria’s food recommendations culturally relevant and locally achievable. She also advocates for integrating nutrition indicators into health surveillance systems. “We track malaria and polio,” she says.
“Why don’t we track obesity and calcium deficiency with the same urgency?”
Perhaps the most powerful contribution of Dr. Akintimehin’s research is its reframing of the national nutritional crisis. By combining rigorous data collection, advanced analytical methods, and on-the-ground fieldwork, her study provides a blueprint for how African nations can evaluate and respond to modern nutrition challenges.
In her own words: “We cannot fight tomorrow’s diseases with yesterday’s data. Nigeria needs nutrition science that reflects the complexity of today’s diets and the reality of our communities.” As the country continues its march toward urbanization, modernization, and global integration, Dr. Akintimehin offers a sobering reminder: progress that leaves nutrition behind is no progress at all. Her work is a call to action for researchers, for policymakers, and for every Nigerian sitting down to a plate of food. Because what’s on that plate may hold the key to the nation’s health.
