Inside FCT’s Deepening Housing Crisis – Independent Newspaper Nigeria

1

ABUJA – Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), was con­ceived as a model city, planned, orderly, and de­signed to reflect the promise of Nigeria’s future. Today, however, behind the gleam­ing government buildings and private mansions, a si­lent crisis grips the city – the dream of affordable housing is slipping away from millions of residents.

For many civil servants, journalists, traders, and arti­sans, the capital has become a paradox—homes stand va­cant in choice districts, yet ordinary people are pushed into slums, satellite towns, and overcrowded settlements. The housing crisis in Abuja is not just about cement and con­crete; it is a story of human struggle, failed policies, and survival.

Dream Deferred: Professionals Locked Out

Take the story of Umar, a mid-career journalist based in Abuja. After over a decade of reporting from the corridors of power, he admits he has no realistic plan to buy a home in the city.

“I do work hard, but I don’t see myself buying a house in Abuja… it will take the help of God,” Umar told this re­porter.

His colleague, Solomon Odeniyi, echoes the same frustration. With a housing al­lowance of ₦41,000, he says the figure barely covers a month’s rent in the outskirts, let alone any meaningful mortgage contribution.

“Home ownership is a mirage. Even rents in satel­lite towns are rising beyond reach,” Solomon lamented.

These voices are not isolat­ed. They represent a cross-sec­tion of professionals—teach­ers, health workers, civil servants—who are supposed to form Abuja’s middle class but find themselves priced out of the housing market.

Paradox of Empty Homes

Abuja has an estimated 1.7 million housing units, yet shockingly, over 45,000 homes stand empty in prime districts like Maitama, Asokoro, Gu­zape, Wuse II, Jabi, and even the vast Gwarimpa Estate.

These houses, many fully furnished and equipped with modern facilities, remain un­occupied, waiting for buyers who may never come. Devel­opers often peg rents and sale prices in dollars, targeting expatriates, politicians, and high-net-worth individuals.

Ordinary residents, those who keep the city running, are forced into the fringes, swelling communities in Nyanya, Karu, Lugbe, Kubwa and Gwagwalada.

The irony is glaring. While Abuja grapples with a hous­ing deficit, entire estates sit unoccupied, victims of spec­ulation, corruption, and in­flated costs.

Land: The Costly Foundation of the Crisis

At the heart of Abuja’s housing crisis lies the cost of land. According to Williams Olatunbosun, CEO of Casala­voro, land acquisition in the FCT accounts for up to half the price of a housing unit.

“If government reduced land costs by even 50 percent, housing prices would fall sig­nificantly,” he explained.

Olatunbosun, who has announced a bold plan to deliver 10 million affordable housing units in partnership with government, insists that without addressing land poli­cies, affordable housing will remain elusive.

A Mother’s Story

For Chidinma, a 34-year-old single mother, the housing crisis is not an abstract policy debate, it is her daily battle.

She once rented a modest two-bedroom apartment in Sunnyvale Estate, but when her landlord increased the rent beyond her income, she was forced to relocate to Du­rumi III.

“I spend more time in traf­fic now, and rent still eats half my salary,” she said, holding her daughter close. “Some­times I think of going back to the village, but I want my child to have opportunities here.”

Her story reflects the plight of thousands of families mak­ing tough choices, moving farther away from the city centre, sacrificing time, safety, and quality of life.

The Inflation Squeeze

The Housing Development Advocacy Network (HDAN) warns that inflation, rising construction costs, and cur­rency devaluation have wors­ened the affordability crisis.

A one-bedroom flat in parts of Abuja now goes for ₦25 million to purchase, while annual rents for two-bedroom apartments in suburbs like Lugbe range between ₦1.5–₦2 million.

With minimum wage at ₦70,000, even saving every kobo would take decades for a worker to afford a modest home.

Slums in the Shadow of Sky­scrapers

As the city sprawls, the poor are increasingly pushed into informal settlements— Dakwo, Mpape, Durumi, and Kuchingoro. These communi­ties, often lacking clean water, sanitation, or proper roads, mushroom right next to lux­ury estates.

In Kuchingoro, residents live in makeshift structures of wood and iron sheets, paying as little as ₦3,000 monthly for shanties. But eviction threats loom, as city authorities peri­odically demolish these areas in the name of urban renewal.

For families here, the fear is constant: will they wake tomorrow to bulldozers flat­tening their only shelter?

Policy and Politics: Searching for Solutions

Lawmakers are beginning to respond. Earlier this year, a bill was introduced in the National Assembly limiting advance rent in Abuja to three months upfront, with subse­quent monthly payments. If implemented, this could offer relief to tenants who current­ly face demands for one or two years’ rent in advance.

Housing advocates have also called for

subsidies on building mate­rials; tax incentives for devel­opers who deliver affordable units; Public–Private Partner­ships (PPP) to pool resources and cooperative housing finance schemes that allow workers to pool funds.

Others are land provision for low-income earners, re­ducing one of the biggest barriers; but critics warn that without political will, these proposals will remain paper promises.

The Bigger Picture: A National Deficit

Nigeria faces a national housing deficit of over 28 million units, requiring an es­timated ₦21 trillion to bridge. Abuja, as the political and ad­ministrative hub, mirrors this crisis in sharp relief.

Urban migration, high population growth, and weak mortgage systems continue to worsen the gap. Less than 10 percent of Nigerians can ac­cess mortgage financing, due to high interest rates—often above 20 percent—and strin­gent requirements.

Human Faces Behind the Num­bers

Every statistic has a hu­man face. Like Ibrahim, a tailor in Karu, who shares a single room with his wife and three children, paying ₦150,000 annually.

“I cannot save for a house. Everything I make goes to food, school fees, and rent,” he said.

Blessing, a civil servant who has lived in three differ­ent suburbs in six years due to constant rent hikes expressed her worries.

“We are like nomads in this city. The landlords control ev­erything,” she sighed.

The Capital’s Unfinished Dream

Abuja was meant to be a city of hope, a unifying cap­ital where Nigerians from all walks of life could thrive. In­stead, it risks becoming a city of exclusion—where only the wealthy own lives, while the majority rent, squat, or drift into slums.

The housing crisis in Abu­ja is not just about economics; it is about dignity, stability, and the right to a decent life. Until government confronts the root causes—land policy, speculative pricing, weak financing—the capital will continue to mirror Nigeria’s inequality: skyscrapers for the few, shanties for the many.

For now, Abuja’s dream remains unfinished. And for residents like Umar, Solo­mon, Chidinma, and Ibrahim, home ownership is still that distant light at the end of a very long tunnel.