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Rent | Zikoko!
  • Stay in Lagos: Houses in These 6 Areas Are No Less Expensive

    I heard people are complaining, yet again, about the criminal rent prices in Lagos.

    Even if you’re lucky to find a reasonably priced apartment, give it a year, and inflation will greet you in typical fashion.

    But if you want to run away from Lagos because of rent prices, avoid a case of “from frying pan to fire” by crossing these places off your list.

    “Abuja is no better”

    — Debby, 35

    I thought Lagos was bad till I moved to Abuja in early 2022. I only looked for apartments in what we’d call the “suburbs”, like Kubwa and Lugbe. Tell me why I was hearing ₦1.7m to ₦1.8m for two-bedroom apartments?

    “They’ve moved Lagos craze to Ibadan”

    — Torera, 28

    Gone are the days when people move to Ibadan because they can’t afford Lagos. If you have a certain standard of living and want a decent one-bedroom mini flat in places like Bodija, just hold like ₦1m, minus agent fees.

    “Port Harcourt is also pricey”

    — Odi, 27

    Renting here is also pricey, especially well-known residential estates or GRAs like Eliozu, Woji and the like. Two-bedroom apartments in these areas can cost as much as ₦900k – ₦1.2m per annum, but it’d most likely be a new building and really standard.

    “The agents in Ado-Ekiti are in a weird competition”

    — Ope, 33

    I moved here in 2019 when you could still find standard three-bedroom apartments for between ₦200k to ₦250k. Now, you may need to budget around ₦400k if you want a new two-bedroom apartment with basic amenities, especially around areas close to the tertiary institutions. The prices may not be as bad as Lagos, but the business prospects in Ekiti are next to nothing, so it doesn’t make sense.

    Then there are the agents who love to increase rent every year, as if they’re chasing them. 

    “The popular areas in Ilorin cost more”

    — Adetola, 30

    Rent is quite reasonable in Ilorin, except if you’re looking in places like Tanke or the GRA. GRA is the best area in Ilorin, and you can get a two-bedroom apartment for around ₦400k – ₦550k per annum. It’s not as much as what it’d cost in Lagos, but it can also be ridiculous, considering it’s much lesser in the inner towns.


    RELATED: 8 Signs You Are About to Rent a Useless House in Ilorin


    “You won’t even see what you’re paying for in Abeokuta”

    — Dara, 25

    You can get a one-bedroom apartment at around ₦400k in Oke-Mosan — which is one of the nicer neighbourhoods in the city — but my problem is you won’t even see what you’re paying for. It’s either the road is bad, the landlord wakes up and decides to increase the rent or light becomes an issue.


    NEXT READ: 5 Nigerians Talk About Their Struggle With Raising Rent

  • QUIZ: What Type of Tenant Are You?

    Whether you’re the one that blocks your landlord when rent is due or the ghost tenant, this quiz will reveal the truth.

    Take the quiz.

  • Coping In A Pandemic: The Widow Struggling To Pay Rent

    Since August 2020, Nigeria’s Government Enterprise and Empowerment Program (GEEP) and 60 decibels with the support of the Rockefeller Foundation have been administering a survey to GEEP clients to understand how COVID-10 impacted their personal and economic situation. An interim report has been published, and it shows that the Nigerian informal sector was adversely affected by the outbreak. 9 out of 10 GEEP clients recorded drops in their income levels, businesses struggled to stay afloat due to government-imposed closures, low footfalls and constrained supply chains. To survive, GEEP clients had to rely on their savings, borrowed heavily and reduced percentages set aside for household and business savings or stopped outrightly. The data also showed that 35% of GEEP respondents had to close down their businesses, 66% recorded fewer customers and 84% have been using their savings to cope with current hardships. We decided to examine how everyday Nigerians, particularly small business owners were affected by the pandemic. One story every week for the next six weeks. 

    The subject of this week’s Coping In A Pandemic is a widow with three children. She talks about starting her businesses, how Covid-19 has affected her income and her current struggles with paying her rent. 

    Do you remember when you started this business?

    15 years ago. I started as a salesgirl for someone at the mammy market in a barrack. My pay was ₦4k per month. The good thing about the job was that it was a good way to learn the business, and I almost always made more than my salary per month. 

    How?

    My boss had his price, and I had my price. I could add a little to the price of cartons of frozen foods I was given to sell. And we sold hundreds of cartons every month, so it was easy to make my own money. I think I got up to ₦1k on every carton I sold. 

    So, you were making up to ₦100k per month?

    On a good month, yes. I’ve always been good at saving, so I was always putting money away. The job was good, and I was learning and understanding how the business worked. We brought the goods in from Seme and sold them here. I was with him for six or seven years. By the time I was leaving, I’d saved enough to buy a shop in the same market and a car I could use for business — a Golf 3.

    Wow. How much did you buy the shop and the car?

    I bought the shop for ₦200k, and the car was about ₦700k. Now that I had everything to go out on my own, I left the job and started going to buy the frozen goods, mostly chicken and fish. 

    That’s great.

    My husband and I would drive to Seme for the products, and because I had a shop, sales were good. I also supplied people. Life was really good. At least, I could conveniently pay my kids’ school fees and house rent. No wahala at all.

    Then I went to Seme one time, and they seized my car and goods. 

    Ah, why?

    Customs oh. After some back and forth, they released my car, but they held onto my over ₦200k worth of goods. I had used all the money I had for business on that trip. 

    Ah.

    As if that wasn’t enough, my husband decided that we had to sell the car.

    Why?

    He said he wanted to travel to the US. I think he sold it for ₦450k. I don’t even know how he got the rest of the money. I guess he travelled to the village and sold a few plots of lands. Do you want to know what happened after?

    Tell me. 

    He came back home after some time. It didn’t even take long. He said one paper was not correct, so he had to come back. And he came back empty-handed. All that money went down the drain. 

    I’m so sorry about that.

    It didn’t end there oh. He started talking about how disrespectful I was to him. He packed and left. I heard he went to Abuja first, then went to the village. He left me with three kids. My last daughter was one year and three months at the time. I couldn’t reach him — his number was always switched off.

    He didn’t come back till he died about six years ago. It’s been me and my kids since that time.

    Wow, I’m so sorry. 

    Life became harder for me. I was not doing any business, and I had no money to do it. Since my husband died, his family has never checked up on me or offered to give me ₦5. They made it clear that my girls and I don’t matter to them, and we would have to figure our lives without them. 

    I didn’t have money to go back to the business until 2016. 

    How did you pick it up again?

    I joined Mamamoni, and they gave me a ₦100k interest-free loan to start my business again. I went back to my shop and picked up where I left off. Whatever I made from it, I put it back in the business. And I was there until I had to sell the shop in 2018. 

    What happened?

    I was going through another rough patch and couldn’t make rent. The pressure the landlady put on me was a lot, and I couldn’t let her kick us out. I had to put my children first. Rent was ₦200k, so I sold my shop to get the money. With the shop gone, I moved my freezer home and continued my business from there.

    How much did you get for the shop?

    ₦300k. What remained after I paid rent went to their school fees. Two of them were in secondary school already at the time, and their tuition was ₦37k each. 

    I’m curious, how much did you make in sales every month at the time?

    At least ₦50k. It never went below that. 

    Did you have enough to save after meeting your basic needs?

    I’ve always been very particular about saving. You know what I used to do? Ajo. I put ₦500 in every day and ₦100 for each of my kids. I don’t touch that until the end of the year, and that’s what I used to settle rent. But it didn’t work out in 2018. That’s why I had to sell my shop. 

    What about loans? Did you have access to those?

    Ah, I fear loans a lot. The mere mention of loans with interest gives me a panic attack. I’d rather borrow money from people and agree to a payment plan. Those kinds of loans where you will pay excess money in interest put people in trouble. I can’t touch it.

    Anyway, I didn’t need to take those kinds of loans. I was managing just fine with my savings until Covid came. 

    2020. 

    Covid did a lot. Sales declined rapidly during the lockdown. I couldn’t go out to supply and the light wasn’t good, so most of the goods I had in my freezer spoiled. Thank God for Mamamoni; they took care of food and supplied foodstuff for me and my girls. They also gave me another ₦50k interest-free loan to start another business. This was lifesaving. I travelled to Ogun state to buy cassava, and I also bought a gas cooker. That’s how I started selling fufu. And I’m still doing it now.

    How much has this been bringing in?

    I have small small customers I supply to, but It depends on the market and the number of people I can supply in a month. But on average, I’ve been making about ₦20k per month since I started last year. 

    That’s different from what you used to make every month. How has this affected things?

    I couldn’t continue my Ajo last year. What this means now is that I may not meet this year’s rent. And the landlady has increased it to ₦250k. I told her that I cannot afford that, and she was like, “If you cannot pay, move out.” I don’t know how it will work out because I have only ₦50k. I’ve asked her for more time to do what I can do to find the ₦200k. I believe in miracles. One of my daughters is writing an exam this year, and I had to pay school fees — about ₦50k. When finding the money to pay for school fees was becoming a problem, God sent someone to give me ₦70k. I don’t know the lady. Someone just told her about me, and she decided to help.

    That must have been a huge relief. Do you ever want to go back to selling frozen food items?

    Yes, I was making more money from that. Also, the stress of selling fufu is too much. It takes a lot of strength to turn the cassava, and the pain that comes with it is too much. I got sick one time, but I couldn’t stop because I needed all the money I could get.

    How much do you think you need to go back to it?

    Everything is expensive now. A carton of chicken used to be as low as ₦8k, but it’s almost ₦18k now. A carton of fish is even more expensive. And also, I can’t go on that Seme road again because of Customs. They treat you like you’re carrying cocaine and seize your goods. I can’t deal with that stress. Although things are cheaper there, I’d have to buy locally. I also need a generator — Nepa has shown me a lot. I’d need at least ₦200k to return to the business. 

    As it is now, won’t a bank or microfinance bank loan be helpful for you?

    As I said earlier, these loans that come with interest are not for me. Some people will add interest so high that the thought of paying it back will give you high blood pressure. I don’t want to be one of those people who take a microfinance bank loan and start hiding when the collectors come. I cannot do it. It will kill me.

    It’s not like I don’t have the power to collect a loan, I just don’t want to. If I had a shop now, I might consider it. I’ll just concentrate on this fufu thing I do for now and hope things open up soon. I know how to do business very well and make the best use of money, so my children and I will be fine.

    What aspect of your finances do you think you could be better at?

    Savings, maybe. I couldn’t save last year, and that’s affecting a lot of things now. If I can save more, that can help prepare me for something like Covid. That being said, It’s hard raising a family alone. I don’t know how I’m taking care of these responsibilities. But God has been helping me through a lot of people.

    With everything that has happened in the past year, would you say you’re happy?

    Why wouldn’t I be? There’s life, and there’s always hope. Also, I’m watching my kids grow, and that means everything to me. My house rent is the only problem now. When I settle that, I’ll be happier.

    You should read this story next:

    Coping In A Pandemic: The Petty Trader Who Can’t Sell Everything She Wants


  • 5 Nigerians Talk About Their Struggle With Raising Rent

    For most young millennials, their biggest expense in the year is having to pay for rent. Taking out that lump sum of account in one scoop can make you weak for the rest of the month, particularly in Nigeria where you usually have to pay that amount yearly.

    Different people handle large expenses differently. We were curious about how people handled paying rent whenever the landlord came knocking, so we asked 5 people about how they came up with rent.

    Mayowa

    I pay for rent yearly. I usually save 30k from my monthly salary for this. My yearly rent is 650k a month. My share of the rent is 350,000 while my flatmate pays 300,000, so I try to put aside about 30k or so monthly. But times when my saving habit was terrible, I’d just wait for my end-of-year bonus and deduct the bulk from it. I’ve done that for the last two years because I didn’t save that well during those years.

    Timi

    Every January, the organisation I work with pays us a housing allowance. So automatically, rent is covered for me. But before this year, the allowance wasn’t enough to cover it, so I’d make it up with funds from my regular savings. The organisation deliberately pays it on January 2nd, far from the salary payday so that you won’t spend it together with your salary. It’s the most convenient thing ever.

    Tayo

    You know that rent in Lagos no be child’s play. You always have to cacu and be on your toes. For me, I save up as much as I can. If it’s not enough, I call my folks at home that it’s either you help your boy or I sleep under the bridge; the choice is theirs. If they want me to get lost in the wilderness, they can ignore me. Before I know it, I receive credit alert.

    Muyiwa

    Personally. I split the rent into 12 parts and save that amount monthly. I am very consistent with saving amount, no matter what happens. Once I receive my paycheck from work, I immediately deduct the rent amount.

    Peter

    Theoretically, I don’t pay for my rent from my salary. I let my alternative income generate the amount needed. Previously, my alternative income streams were enough to cover the amount. I used to pay about 1m less than what I’m paying now so it easily covered it. However, my alternative income streams are not always guaranteed. My alternative income is mostly freelancing and contract jobs that pop up randomly.

  • The Secret Horror Stories Of Nigerian Women Living Alone

    Over the weekend, I asked my female friends who live alone the most difficult part for them.

    Here’s what they had to say:

    Mariam/21.

    “I have the compulsive feeling that I am being watched. And I live in a three-storey building. So, when I am doing anything, I feel like someone is watching me. It’s worse when I want to have my bath. I don’t expect it to be a woman watching me, always a man.”

    Gbemi/27.

    “I am scared of being naked in my house even when it’s hot. My biggest fear is that someone will come in and invade my privacy. Like an armed robber will come in, rape me and kill me. At least if I wear clothes, I can reduce those chances.”

    Tomi/29.

    “I have to wear a ring anytime I invite an artisan to my house. So that at least, he thinks there is a man in the house and I am not vulnerable.”

    Agnes/26.

    “I have one of my male friends who comes to sleepover at intervals and poses as my husband. This is to deter male neighbours from trying nonsense or having any ideas. So, I always tell them that even though my “husband” travels a lot, he can come back anytime. This has been effective so far.”

    Ijeoma/24.

    “My brother’s name is on the invoice of the house rent that I pay with my money. He’s also my husband since we have similar surname. I had to do this because someone said the landlord uses his spare key to “check” up on female tenants that live alone. Me I don’t like trouble for my life so my brother has become my “husband” on paper.”

    Take a break from this cruel world and get lost below:

  • You Need To Ask Your Potential Flatmate These Questions

    Getting your first apartment can be very exciting and very expensive. While the prospect of never being woken up from sleep to wash plates again is great, rent is also cost. For most people, the sensible thing to do is get a flatmate or two. But what they don’t know is that finding a great flatmate can be harder than finding someone to marry. And is even more important than making sure you get an apartment where the electricity supply isn’t too bad or doesn’t flood when someone sneezes. 

    To avoid getting stuck with a nightmare of a flatmate, you need to ask any potential flatmate you might be considering these questions.

    First thing.

    You got rent money? And not just the rent money alone? Because that’s just the beginning? These LAWMA and PHCN bills won’t pay themselves.

    How’s your family doing?

    Are you going to move in half of your 21 family members into our two bedroom apartment two months into our stay?

    How many people are really moving in?

    Are you in a relationship? Does your boyfriend/girlfriend have a home of their own? Or are they going to become our third flatmate who doesn’t pay rent after we move in? 

    Early bird?

    What’s your morning routine like? Am I going to wake up to you screaming about repentance and eternal damnation at 4 am every day? 

    Let’s talk about your friends.

    How often do your friends visit? And what is the usual nature of these visits? Is it the ‘how far just checking on you’ kind? Or the ‘let me crash on your couch for two days that’ll turn into two months’ kind?

    Kids?

    Do you have any secret children staying with your parents? Who will suddenly come and stay with you for two months when they are on holiday from school?

    Any pets?

    What about unconventional pets? Because I’m guessing that’s what the snake you are keeping in a calabash must be?

    You know there’ll be bills right?

    Again is it only rent money you have to your name? Or do you have a constant source of income and a plan to pay your bills and feed yourself for the year? Plans that don’t include eating my food when I’m away.

    Flat mate not BFF please.

    Are you looking for a new best friend? Because that’s not me. Except on the days corner you in the kitchen or living room to rant about a bad date.

    Any criminal record?

    Are you wanted by the police or any federal government agency like EFCC or NDLEA? Yeah, I know it’s all a mix-up and you are not guilty of anything, please just let me know now.

    Do you need to join an AA group?

    How often do you drink? Do like to indulge in a glass of wine every now and then or am I going to be jumping over empty alcohol bottles when I enter the kitchen?

    Any experience?

    Have you ever lived on your own? Or do you still expect the generator to magically never run out of petrol, or the electricity bills to automatically be paid?

    Do you clean?

    What’s your definition of clean? Being able to eat off the toilet floor after you’ve cleaned it every week? Or sweeping once a month and hoping your fairy godmother will sort out everything else?

    Let’s make it official.

    Are you willing to sign a flatmate contract? Because it’s 2019 and I want everything we’ve agreed on written in black and white and signed. 

  • Independence.

    From the moment it dawns on you that people don’t remain their parents’ responsibility forever (more on this later), you begin to crave that life of your own – one where you’re in complete control of your affairs.

    You dream of it – and mumble it under your breath when they get you angry. It’s only a matter of time – you’ll get a place of your own and your actual life will finally begin.

    Bitch you thought!

    The thing is, even if you’re one of those people they have to chase out with prayer and death threats, no-one ever tells you what to expect when you eventually decide to move out.

    No-one ever tells you how you’ll pay through your nose for that independence you’ve been crying for.

    You see, dreams come true, but no-one ever talks about the price tag.

    These are just 5 of those things you should prepare for as you decide to move out.

    TOTAL PACKAGE

    The first thing that drops on your mind when you’re moving out is the cost of rent.

    What you should be concerned about though is a little something called total package – the cost of rent PLUS commission, agreement, legal fees and a sum of other excuses for the landlord to bleed you dry.

    By the time all of this comes together, you’re looking at an amount that is almost twice the cost of rent.

    Guess where you don’t have to even pay half package? Your father’s house.

    BILLS

    The first bill I ever got after I moved out was for electricity. As I stared at the 16,000 naira written at the bottom of the sheet, I suddenly remembered that our forebearers lived without electricity and they didn’t die.

    Moving out means you are responsible for yourself and you have to pay for all those trivial things you always thought God gave everyone for free, like water.

    LONELINESS

    Alone is my best friend.

    I have a theory that Akon recorded that Lonely song after he made small money and finally moved into his first big house.

    Living with a family means there’s almost always someone to talk to, even when you think they’re pestering you.

    When you move out, except you have a PlayStation 4 Pro and an unlimited supply of small chops, you’ll find that it is each man to his tent and more often than not, you’ll be all by yourself.

    Sing it with me one time: “Lonely, I’m Mr Lonely, I have Nobody, ON MY OWWWWNNNN”

    SPELLS OF POVERTY

    broke moving out

    When you move out, one of the biggest things you lose is your safety net. Remember all those times when you would hit a rough patch and you’d run a quick errand to con your parents out of some quick handy cash. Look at that time in the rearview mirror. Once you move out, your financial security is all in your hands. God forbid you have to go back home to beg for money. You’ll probably meet your father at the bus stop with a placard that reads “Told You So”.

    Of Course, It’s Up To You To Decide If Moving Out Is Worth All This Stress.

    If you need some help, the cast of Nigerians Talk shares their thoughts on Moving Out in the new episode. Watch that here and please, choose wisely. Total package is expensive af.