“₦15 Million for a Flat? This Cannot Be My 20s!” — Asherkine Cries Out as Lagos Rent Crisis Deepens

The struggle to survive in Lagos, Nigeria’s bustling commercial hub, just got louder—this time from one of the city’s most relatable voices, content creator and social media personality, Asherkine. Taking to X (formerly Twitter), he expressed deep frustration over the outrageous rent prices that have become the norm across Lagos. In his post, he wrote: “So if you’re renting a good 2/3 bedroom flat in Lagos rn, you gotta have 12–15 million? This cannot be my own 20s, God.” The lament, though brief, has struck a chord with thousands of Nigerians who are equally battling to find affordable housing in one of the world’s most expensive cities to live in, relative to income.

Within minutes of his post, the comment section turned into a virtual town hall meeting as users from different walks of life shared their rent horror stories. Many echoed the same disbelief—wondering how young professionals, creatives, and even mid-level earners were supposed to survive in a city where landlords seem to increase rent faster than salaries rise. Some replied with sarcasm and humor, others with genuine pain. One user wrote, “₦15 million for rent? I might as well buy a tent and live inside Lekki Phase 1 roundabout.” Another added, “It’s like Lagos landlords now calculate rent with the dollar rate, not the naira.”

But beneath the jokes lies a grim reality. The housing situation in Lagos has reached what experts are calling a “social emergency.” From the Island to the Mainland, the cost of renting a decent apartment has skyrocketed in just a few years. Areas like Lekki, Ikoyi, Victoria Island, and even Surulere, which were once considered manageable for middle-class Nigerians, have become nearly impossible for the average worker. A two-bedroom apartment that cost ₦2.5 million annually in 2020 now goes for nothing less than ₦8–₦12 million, depending on location and furnishing. For the more prime areas, ₦15 million is just the starting point.

The worst part is that these rent hikes come with little justification. Many tenants complain that despite paying such outrageous sums, the basic amenities—steady water supply, proper waste disposal, functional security systems—are often missing. Yet landlords continue to demand payment upfront, sometimes for two years at a time. The desperation to live close to work or avoid Lagos traffic jams forces people into making financially draining decisions. Asherkine’s outcry captures that moment of exasperation when young Nigerians realize that surviving in Lagos often feels like competing in a race they never signed up for.

This is not the first time Lagos rent has sparked nationwide debate. In recent months, similar laments have come from celebrities, civil servants, and even tech workers. The irony is that while salaries in most sectors have stagnated, inflation has eroded the value of the naira, and landlords have adjusted accordingly. The result is a widening gap between income and housing affordability. Many young people are now turning to co-living spaces, Airbnb shortlets, or shared apartments to cut costs. Some have even returned to their family homes after realizing that independence in Lagos now comes with a price tag their bank accounts can’t support.

The economic backdrop of this crisis cannot be ignored. The naira’s depreciation, coupled with the removal of fuel subsidies, has triggered a ripple effect across every aspect of urban life. Transportation, food, and utilities have all doubled or tripled in cost, while rent remains the single largest monthly or yearly expense for most Lagosians. For landlords, maintaining properties has also become expensive due to rising costs of building materials and labor. But while they justify the hikes as “market realities,” tenants see them as pure extortion. The frustration is particularly harsh for young Nigerians in their 20s and 30s—like Asherkine—who are trying to build stability in a system that seems designed to drain them.

One of the most painful aspects of the rent surge is how it stifles dreams. Many creatives, content creators, and entrepreneurs who depend on flexible incomes now find themselves priced out of the neighborhoods that once inspired their work. Lagos, known as Nigeria’s creative capital, is slowly becoming unaffordable for the very people who give it cultural life. “If I’m spending ₦12 million on rent, then what’s left for my projects?” one filmmaker lamented. For many, the choice now lies between maintaining a lifestyle close to opportunity or relocating entirely to more affordable cities like Ibadan, Abeokuta, or Abuja suburbs.

Asherkine’s post, though personal, reflects a national cry for housing reform. There have been repeated calls for the Lagos State government to step in with rent control policies or affordable housing schemes that actually work. While there have been several “low-cost housing” announcements over the years, few have reached the average citizen. Most end up priced beyond reach, with developers citing market realities and construction costs. Experts say that without serious intervention, Lagos could face a homelessness crisis in the next decade, as population growth continues to outpace housing supply.

Meanwhile, social media continues to amplify the struggle. Nigerians online have turned the issue into a movement of sorts—sharing memes, survival tips, and even connecting people looking to share rent. Hashtags like #RentInLagos and #SurvivingLagos trend periodically, filled with real stories of people moving back to their parents’ homes, living with friends, or even sleeping in offices to save costs. The humor softens the pain, but the truth remains brutal: Lagos has become a city where even success feels expensive.

For Asherkine, his viral lament might have been a casual observation, but it touched a nerve across generations. Young Nigerians, especially those in their 20s trying to make a living in creative and digital spaces, are realizing that independence comes at a price their age group can barely afford. “This cannot be my own 20s,” he wrote—and that line alone has become a mantra for a generation that feels economically trapped.

The conversation has now shifted beyond just rent to the overall quality of life in Lagos. Many wonder if the “Lagos dream” is still worth chasing when the cost of survival outweighs the opportunities. Some are already planning their exit from the city, citing burnout, insecurity, and the impossibility of financial stability. But for those who stay, the battle continues—a daily grind to make ends meet, pay bills, and somehow find joy in a city that never sleeps but always charges.

As rent prices climb with no ceiling in sight, Asherkine’s words will likely echo for a long time in the minds of many young Nigerians: “₦15 million for rent? This cannot be my own 20s, God.” It’s more than just a complaint—it’s a cry of an entire generation living in one of Africa’s most expensive cities, desperately trying to balance survival with the dream of a better life.