How to Survive Lagos Landlords (Or Any Landlord, Really)
A Tenant’s Guide to Warfare
Let’s be real—renting in Lagos is an extreme sport. One day you’re a responsible adult paying rent on time, the next you’re begging for running water like it’s a privilege. If landlords were a Netflix show, it would be a dystopian thriller where the house always wins.
The water situation alone deserves its own horror movie. You wake up to dry taps, your landlord claims “there’s no light to pump water”, yet somehow their own tank is always overflowing. You start collecting pure water sachets like they’re currency, calculating how many you’ll need to flush the toilet. The real Lagos hustle isn’t side gigs, it’s figuring out how to bathe with two cups of water.
Then there’s the light palaver. Your prepaid meter runs faster than your paycheck, and your landlord insists you’re “wasting electricity” while their own flat enjoys 24/7 power. You start living like a vampire, charging everything at odd hours, unplugging appliances you’re not using, yet somehow your units still disappear overnight.
Don’t even get me started on random rent increases. You open a polite “Good afternoon sir” text only to find your rent has magically doubled because “expensive building materials”. Suddenly you’re Googling “how to negotiate with a brick wall” while drafting messages that alternate between begging and veiled threats.
The repairs? A myth. That leaking roof you reported six months ago? “We’re working on it.” The broken window? “Next week.” You could grow old waiting, so you either learn DIY skills you never wanted or accept that your bedroom is now an indoor pool (Why then did you increase my rent for these same materials ???).
Through it all, you develop survival instincts:
You know exactly which neighbor to beg for water from
You’ve mastered the art of complaining without getting evicted
Your “landlord is calling” anxiety is now a sixth sense
But here’s the secret every long-term tenant learns: it’s not personal, it’s Lagos. The city turns everyone into hustlers even the landlords. One day you’ll look back and laugh (probably while explaining to your therapist why you have trust issues). Until then, keep your buckets filled, your meter receipts saved, and your escape fund growing.
PS: If you somehow found a kind landlord, guard their contact with your life. They’re rarer than steady electricity.