Nigeria’s housing deficit has reached epidemic levels. A new report by a Federal Ministry of Housing and Urban Development technical committee puts the 2025/26 deficit at an alarming 14.92 million units, with an additional 15.2 million homes classified as structurally inadequate or outright substandard. The scale is staggering.
In monetary terms, the deficit is valued at between N21 trillion and N59 trillion, a figure that underscores both the enormity of the problem and the persistent failure to confront it decisively.
Worse still, the outlook is deteriorating. Inflation continues to drive up construction costs, with cement now hovering around N12,000 per bag, while the prices of other building materials spiral unchecked.
Unsurprisingly, rents are surging across Lagos and other major urban and semi-urban centres, tightening the noose on already strained households.
Densely populated neighbourhoods and sprawling suburbs are bursting at the seams, even as incomes remain stagnant and wholly incapable of keeping pace with runaway rents.
Across cities and towns, the signs of distress are unmistakable. Access to affordable housing has become a daily struggle.
Rural areas offer some relief, largely due to entrenched extended family systems that provide communal shelter for relatives. But this is a fragile cushion in the face of relentless urban migration.
Rapid urbanisation has pushed rents far beyond the reach of millions. Even those earning relatively decent incomes are no longer insulated, as many are forced into smaller, less convenient, and undignified lodgings.
Families and young couples, sometimes numbering three to six, are crammed into studio apartments, popularly known as room self-contained or room-and-parlour ensuite.
These cramped spaces cost anywhere between N400,000 and N2 million annually, depending on location and landlord discretion, excluding a host of additional charges. In many areas, rent hikes have become an annual ritual.
The human cost is distressing. About 40 per cent of university lecturers in Lagos reportedly sleep in their offices, victims of a housing market that has priced them out of basic dignity. Timothy Nubi, a professor of estate management and a sustainable housing advocate, made this troubling disclosure at a recent event at the University of Lagos, Akoka.
According to him, the rising cost of accommodation around major urban centres, especially Lagos, has pushed many academics into desperate and degrading circumstances.
“I stand here to tell you today that almost 40 per cent of lecturers in universities sleep in their offices,” he said, as reported by BusinessDay. “They sleep in their offices. You see them taking baths around the faculty every morning. That is the state of the country.” It is a damning portrait of a nation failing its own middle class.
Nubi noted that the crisis is no longer confined to the poor; it is steadily eroding the stability of those who once formed the backbone of Nigeria’s middle-income bracket.
He cited a recent example of a two-bedroom apartment around the Akoka area near UNILAG renting for N3.5 million per year, well beyond the reach of many professors. When even the educated elite cannot secure decent shelter, the depth of the crisis becomes impossible to ignore.
History offers sobering lessons. Nubi pointed out that societies that ignore housing inequality often court instability. He referenced the Great Fire of London in the early 17th century, which prompted the Poor Relief Act, an intervention that compelled property owners to contribute towards housing for low-income residents.
Modern examples reinforce this logic. In several countries, developers are required to allocate a percentage of housing units to essential workers such as teachers, drivers, and other low-income earners, ensuring mixed and inclusive communities rather than segregated enclaves of privilege.
Yet in Nigeria, policy responses often worsen the problem. Even amid acute shortages, governments continue to carry out forceful demolitions and evictions in slum communities, frequently without credible resettlement plans. This approach is not only insensitive, but it is also counterproductive.
Recent demolitions in Makoko and Oworonsoki in Lagos State illustrate this troubling pattern, where displacement is executed with little regard for human consequences.
Elsewhere, more pragmatic approaches are yielding results. Countries such as Kenya are making deliberate efforts to tackle housing deficits through structured reforms and targeted interventions. Nigeria can adopt such measures.
However, structural bottlenecks persist. The process of obtaining land titles remains cumbersome, opaque, and prohibitively expensive in many states. Developers inevitably pass these costs on to renters, further inflating already unaffordable housing prices.
Nigeria’s mortgage system is equally dysfunctional. Its rigid conditions and limited accessibility make it exceedingly difficult for developers to secure credit for construction or for individuals to finance home ownership.
What is required is not cosmetic reform but a fundamental reset. Governments must prioritise the upgrading of slums rather than their wholesale demolition, preserving communities while improving living conditions.
At the same time, there is a clear need to promote the development of cheaper, locally sourced building materials, alongside simple, cost-effective housing designs that can be widely adopted.
Urban planning must also be reimagined. Decongesting overcrowded city centres by developing well-serviced suburbs, linked by efficient and affordable transport systems, is now imperative.
The Federal Mortgage Bank of Nigeria must take the lead in crafting workable, affordable housing solutions in collaboration with tertiary institutions, particularly to provide sustainable accommodation for academic staff.
Nigeria’s housing crisis is no longer a distant policy challenge. It is a daily, grinding reality, and a test of whether the country is willing to confront one of its most urgent social failures with the seriousness it demands.
