12/09/2025
When our landlord in Abuja suddenly added “transport fare to London” on top of our house rent, my family knew it was time to relocate. The man didn’t just increase the rent, he increased it with confidence, as if he was renting out Buckingham Palace instead of a house where the tap only runs once every three days.
So, we packed our load. You should have seen us—my brother carrying the TV like he was protecting national treasure, my mum shouting at the movers, “Abeg no scratch that chair, it’s older than all of you!” Meanwhile, I was holding a Ghana-must-go bag that was threatening to open any second and disgrace me in front of the whole street.
When we finally reached the new apartment, the relief on our faces was like people that escaped from exam hall. The funniest part? Our new landlord welcomed us with a big smile and said, “Don’t worry, I don’t increase rent anyhow.” My dad whispered under his breath, “That’s what the last one said… before turning to IMF.”
And just like that, we became proud tenants of a new apartment—not because we wanted to, but because Abuja rent decided our destiny.
