By Adé Yẹmí

Abuja residents are facing a growing crisis that threatens the very foundation of affordable housing in the city: the unchecked dominance of housing agents.

Originally intended to connect tenants with property owners, these intermediaries have increasingly morphed into profiteers, creating a suffocating stranglehold on the housing market and making it progressively harder for ordinary citizens to access decent homes.

Today, Abuja’s real estate market has spiraled into an unsustainable mess, driven largely by the excessive involvement of agents. Rather than bridge the gap between landlords and tenants, many agents now inflate rental prices, complicate transactions, and impose arbitrary fees, all aimed at maximizing their own profit.

It has become commonplace for prospective tenants to encounter multiple agents for a single property, each demanding their cut without providing real value.

One of the most glaring issues is the unpredictability of housing costs. While agents claim to represent landlords, evidence shows they often drive up rents to secure higher commissions.

This practice has pushed formerly affordable areas beyond the reach of average residents, with rents rising by as much as 20 to 30 percent annually without any meaningful improvements in housing quality or amenities.

Beyond the financial burden, the absence of regulation has opened the door to exploitation. Agents routinely demand large upfront payments for substandard or even non-existent properties, leaving many residents in legal limbo.

Those who challenge these exploitative practices often face threats or are simply told to “take it or leave it” in a market where housing demand far outpaces supply.

Compounding the problem is the lack of accountability. Without a central regulatory authority to oversee their operations, agents are free to manipulate the market with little fear of consequences.

Their unchecked influence has created a toxic environment that prioritizes personal gain over fairness, transparency, and the well-being of Abuja residents.

What Abuja needs is not a temporary fix but a systemic overhaul.

The government must urgently regulate the housing agent industry to restore sanity to the market. Setting standardized service charges, enforcing transparent dealings, and controlling arbitrary price inflation are critical first steps.

A centralized database where tenants can verify agents and properties would also help curb fraud and exploitation.

Moreover, landlords should be encouraged to deal directly with tenants, reducing dependence on agents who have hijacked the process.

Technology can play a key role here, offering digital platforms that connect landlords and tenants transparently and affordably.

Abuja is a city of opportunity and immense potential. Yet, the growing dominance of housing agents threatens to suffocate that promise, forcing many to flee the city in search of affordable living.

If left unchecked, this crisis will erode the very fabric that makes Abuja a vibrant place to live, work, and dream.

This fight is about more than affordability; it is about fairness, transparency, and building a sustainable future for the people of Abuja. The time to act is now.

By Adé Yẹmí

When the World Bank recently warned that more Nigerians are sinking deeper into poverty, it should have been treated as a national emergency. But in a country obsessed with politics and short term victories, the human suffering hidden in those numbers barely caused a ripple.

The latest report reveals a stark reality: over 129 million Nigerians, more than half the population, now live below the national poverty line. Compared to 40.1 percent in 2018, this is not just a red flag; it is a blaring siren that something is fundamentally broken.

The painful irony is that many of the government’s so called reform policies, designed to save the economy, have made life unbearable for ordinary people.

The removal of fuel subsidies and the devaluation of the naira were supposed to correct economic distortions, but what Nigerians got instead was soaring inflation and historic levels of hunger.

Prices of basic foods like rice and beans have doubled or even tripled in several parts of the country, turning everyday meals into luxury items.

The international poverty line, which stands at two dollars fifteen cents per day, now feels like a dream for nearly 47 percent of the population.

The government’s response? Cash handouts. About 15 million households will reportedly receive seventy five thousand naira in installments.

While it sounds noble on paper, it feels like putting a bandage on a gunshot wound. Poverty on this scale is not just about money; it is about systems.

Failing education, broken healthcare, insecurity, and collapsing infrastructure continue to hold millions hostage.

Without a massive and sustained effort to create productive jobs and secure the food supply, these handouts will barely delay the inevitable.

Environmental disasters like the devastating 2024 floods, which wiped out over one point five million hectares of cropland and affected nine million people, have worsened an already bleak situation.

Meanwhile, armed conflicts and displacements continue to disrupt farming, pushing food insecurity to tragic levels. In a vicious cycle, poverty fuels conflict, and conflict deepens poverty.

If Nigeria’s leaders continue to prioritize political games over meaningful reform, the country could see poverty levels rise to 52 percent by 2026, according to the World Bank.

This should terrify anyone who cares about the country’s future. Poverty at this scale is not just an economic problem; it is a ticking time bomb.

When millions have nothing left to lose, the entire society becomes dangerously unstable.

The real tragedy is that it does not have to be this way. Nigeria is blessed with talent, resources, and a youthful population that, if properly harnessed, could lift the nation out of this crisis. But until the government treats poverty with the urgency, planning, and full national mobilization it would devote to a war, things will only get worse.

It is time for Nigeria to wake up. Poverty is not just another statistic. It is a matter of survival.

By Adé Yẹmí

Abuja, once known for its serenity and order, is fast losing its quiet charm.

Today, it is not traffic gridlocks or rising insecurity that disrupts daily life, but a different kind of menace—noise.

Blasting speakers, late-night parties, impromptu street events, and unregulated public gatherings have turned many neighborhoods into sound war zones. The result? A city gradually growing weary and restless.

Just this week, the Federal Capital Territory Administration (FCTA), through the Abuja Metropolitan Management Council (AMMC), sealed off the Myra Event Centre in Guzape. The reason was clear: repeated noise pollution, particularly at night, disturbing the peace of nearby residents.

This decisive move is laudable. It signals a renewed commitment by authorities to enforce environmental laws. But it also raises an important question: how did things get this bad, and what more can be done?

The Rising Toll of Noise Pollution

Abuja’s noise problem goes beyond event centres. It includes roadside vendors armed with megaphones, religious gatherings that stretch into the early morning, and spontaneous celebrations on residential streets.

The unchecked rise in ambient noise affects not only comfort but also public health.

Prolonged exposure to high noise levels has been linked to sleep disorders, heightened stress, and even heart-related illnesses.

What the FCTA Must Do Next

The closure of Myra Event Centre is a step in the right direction, but enforcement must be consistent, not occasional.

Authorities need to go further by:

Establishing Regular Monitoring: Routinely inspecting areas known for excessive noise and taking swift action against defaulters.

Raising Public Awareness: Launching campaigns to educate residents and businesses on the health risks associated with noise and the need to comply with regulations.

Defining Clear Rules and Consequences: Setting noise level thresholds and applying well-communicated penalties for breaches.

Citizens Also Have a Role

Residents must take ownership of their environment by reporting violations, promoting respectful noise levels in their communities, and supporting government efforts.

Only a joint approach will ensure real change.

Abuja’s identity as a peaceful, well-planned capital is under threat. Noise pollution may seem harmless to some, but its cumulative effect is far-reaching.

The FCTA’s recent actions show promise, but what’s needed now is consistency, public support, and strong political will.

Let us not allow noise to drown the dignity and calm our capital city was built to reflect. Abuja deserves better—and so do its people.