In the bright afternoon Lagos sun, Mr. Chibuzor Ibe parks his tricycle and rests inside a small roadside shop in Isheri, quietly catching his breath after hours of work.

His palm is filled with rumpled notes — mostly N200 and N100 bills — a small pile that draws admiring glances from passers-by. To anyone watching, he looks like a man who has made good money that day, the result of hours of struggling on the road.

But in his mind, Chibuzor is already calculating the long list of expenses waiting for the money – food, school fees, family needs, and fuel for his nearly empty tank.

“Someone can have N10, 000 cash,” he says, “and still spend over N8, 000 on fuel alone.” The real challenge, he says, isn’t just making money — it’s making sure something is left after all the daily costs.

“After fuel, I still have to find something to take home so my family can eat, still settle the owner of the keke, and handle other expenses,” he adds. This is the new daily struggle for many Nigerians. On the surface, things may look fine. But beneath, people are stretched thin — working longer hours, skipping meals, and chasing every naira just to survive.

The struggle

Chibuzor’s story is echoed across Nigeria. From small business owners to students and working parents, families are being stretched thin by the rising cost of living.

According to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), Nigeria’s food inflation stood at 40.66% yearon-year in May 2024, the highest in years, driven largely by the surging prices of staple items like bread, yam, rice, and oil.

Although the rate eased to 21.14% by May 2025, food prices remain unaffordable for many Nigerians, especially when compared to stagnant earnings. Economic analysts point to a combination of factors: the removal of fuel subsidy in 2023, continued depreciation of the naira, insecurity in farming regions, and rising transportation costs.

Meanwhile, the national minimum wage remains N70, 000 per month while recent estimates from BudgIT and SBM Intelligence show that feeding a family of four now requires well over N100, 000 monthly, excluding rent, school fees, health care, and utilities. For millions of families like Chibuzor’s, each day begins with one question: how to make what little they earn stretch across every basic need.

Sacrifices

In Isheri, Lagos, Mrs. Felicia Okeke, a vegetable trader and mother of three, sits behind her pile of waterleaf and Ugu leaves, watching buyers pass without stopping. Business hasn’t been the same. “Before, I would buy a bag of water leafs at N3, 000 or N4, 000,” she says. “But right now, it’s N25, 000 per one bag.”

The prices she pays to restock have gone up sharply, and so have the prices she’s forced to charge, even though that has made customers start complaining. “Buyers are not responding like before,” she adds. “They increase the price for me, so I also have to increase my price. What I was selling N200 before is now N500.”

She’s not making good profits like before. People are buying less. Sometimes, vegetables get bad before she sells them. But she still comes out each day as she has children to feed. In Benin City, Mrs. Grace Obakpolor, a young pregnant tailor is also trying to adjust. Her small workspace is quiet, with fewer customers than she used to have. “Customers are no longer coming like before,” she says.

“Maybe due to the fact that I am pregnant and the economy is hard.” She doesn’t complain much, but she’s worried. The pregnancy is taking its toll on her body, and with little or no jobs coming in, she now depends on her husband for almost everything. “Now, the load rests on the shoulders of my husband.”

Her words carry more than just concern — they reflect a quiet fear that things might get worse. With fewer clients, rising prices of materials, and the stress of managing her pregnancy without a regular income, her options are limited. For women like Felicia and Grace, things are no longer normal. There’s no comfort. It’s just managing, hoping to sell enough to cover the next day’s needs.

Side hustle

To cope with rising prices, many Nigerians are no longer relying on one job alone. From students to market women, people are picking up side work, hustling online, or starting small businesses — anything to keep something extra coming in.

In Benin City, Egwunabor Peter, a university student, combines his studies with crypto currency trading and part-time work as an interior installer. “Sometimes, I go for lectures in the morning, then rush to meet up with clients for my interior design work,” he said.

“It’s not easy, but I can’t just sit down. Everything is expensive now from food to transport and I can’t be relying on people” He explained how the pressure has pushed many students into difficult choices. “Some people have even dropped out of school while others have gone into fraud because they can’t keep up. Everything is too expensive.

Transport, feeding — everything.” In Isheri, Lagos, Mrs Mary Afolabi, who sells soft drinks, biscuits, and sachet water under a small umbrella near a bus stop, said she had no choice but to add a POS service just to keep her daily income going. “Sales have dropped,” she said. “Before, people would buy malt or biscuits when they were waiting for a bus. Now, most people just walk past.”

She said people are now focused only on their essentials. Even when the sun is hot, cold drinks no longer attract buyers like before. But the POS service brings in small commissions, especially from passengers and residents withdrawing cash in the area.

“It’s the POS that adds to my money now. Even if I don’t sell drinks, people will still withdraw money.” But in Oshogbo, Osun State, for Mrs Doris Ngozi, who quit her teaching job due to the paltry salary and stress, even POS operations are no longer what they used to be.

“Before we were making decent money because what we were being charged to get naira and banking fees were not much; now we are paying more for the naira while the government’s N50 transaction levy has also eaten into our profit,” she explained. Another drawback now, according to her, is the fact that many more people are now into the business.

“Before we were not too many, but now due to a combination of factors, more people are into the business which has meant my sales have dropped considerably,” she added. To augment her earnings Mrs Ngozi leaves her POS kiosk to head to the markets around her to hawk her business. “What can I do, before I had enough customers coming to my kiosk but now I have to move around looking for customers – it’s that bad!”

Dwindling sales, rising costs

Across markets in Nigeria, petty traders are feeling the pressure. It’s not just that goods are expensive — it’s that customers are buying less, or not at all.

At a well-known big supermarket in Lagos, the manager, who asked not to be named, said the economic downturn has forced a rethink of everything — from what gets stocked to how much gets sold. “Actually, it is quite obvious that business is not as usual,” he said. “This economy is biting both the rich and the poor.

There’s been a sharp drop in how many items customers now buy – especially foreign items. People can’t afford them anymore.” Imported goods like Milo, he said, used to sell in large quantities. But now, with a 900g tin costing over N31, 000, customers are abandoning them for local alternatives. “People now prefer the locally made ones. We’ve had to cut down on what we stock. Overstocking is risky — we only buy what moves.”

Even so, the most difficult part, he said,is keeping the business running. Electricity costs, especially for diesel to power his generator and investment in solar, are eating into profits. Staff salaries and operating costs are a constant worry. “We had to invest in solar, but even that is expensive.

If you can’t control your running costs, you’re finished.” Although the supermarket reduces prices periodically to attract buyers, he says customers remain cautious. “Even when we drop prices, people are sceptical. They think we want to lure them and later increase it. Buying power has dropped — people are very selective. Only foodstuffs still move because people must eat.”

In Benin, a pharmacist at Emsywise Pharmacy, Mrs Esther Eseosa, paints a similar picture. As drug prices rise and fluctuate unpredictably, more patients are postponing or skipping treatments altogether. “Customers now buy in smaller quantities.” she said. “Once prices drop, they rush to buy. But when it’s high, they walk away.” She noted a dangerous trend: many can no longer afford full prescriptions. Instead, they settle for sachets or one or two tablets — a practice that compromises treatment.

Across both cities, traders are now in survival mode — cutting costs, shrinking stock, and lowering expectations. But between soaring inflation, poor customer turnout, and skyrocketing running costs, what used to be routine business has become a daily struggle to keep the doors open.

Choosing between needs

For many Nigerian families, survival now means sacrifice — not just of luxuries, but of meals, schooling options, and even the idea of comfort. The cost of living crisis has pushed parents into making painful decisions, often in silence. In Warri, Delta State, Ejovwoke Ejokirhie, a garri seller, says the first casualty was dinner.

“We skip dinner sometimes and just go to bed on empty stomach,” she says, her voice steady but resigned. “Chicken or turkey, we only buy now during Christmas or big holidays. It’s no longer everyday food.” The rising cost of school fees also forced her to move her children from a private school to a public secondary school.

“I no go say dem stop school, but I changed their school once,” she explains. “Private school fee no be here again.” Still, Ejovwoke counts her blessings. She receives occasional support from her brothers abroad and says things are slightly better now compared to a few months ago. But the impact lingers. “As a mother, when you no fit provide the basic things, e dey pain. But we dey thank God say we still dey manage.”

Fuel and electricity costs have also reshaped daily routines. The family’s generator is now a backup for emergencies only. “We no dey on am like before,” she says, meaning they now only run the generator once a while In Benin City, another mother, Mrs Christy Edeko, currently studying for her master’s degree — is balancing academics with household strain.

Her husband is sponsoring her education, but it has come at a cost to the family’s food quality. “My husband is sending me back to school for my master’s programme, which has deprived us of eating good food like we used to as a family. She insists her children will never drop out of school. “Not when my husband and I are still alive,” she adds firmly. The kids already attend public schools — realities many now accept as a financial necessity.

She also said the family has stopped buying noodles and spaghetti, seeing them as non-essential. The hard times weigh heavily on them. There are moments when the bills are too much or there isn’t enough food at home, and it hurts. But like many Nigerian mothers, they are holding on — doing what they can each day and hoping that, somehow, things will get better.

Conclusion

While parents sacrifice meals and juggle bills, young people are also adjusting their expectations. Many now combine school with small jobs, online gigs, or side hustles — not just to support themselves, but to ease the burden on their families. For them, survival has become part of growing up.

Across Nigeria, the cost of living crisis is reshaping how people eat, earn, and plan for the future. From the streets of Isheri to the markets of Benin and Warri, Nigerians are no longer just tightening their belts — they’re adjusting entire routines just to make it through each day. Some have cut out evening meals.

Others have downsized businesses, picked up side hustles, or pulled their children from private schools. Even essentials like fuel and medicine are now carefully rationed. Still, beneath the hardship is a quiet defiance — the same spirit that has carried Nigerians through past storms.

Whether it’s a garri seller in Warri skipping dinner so her children can eat, or a student in Benin juggling lectures and interior jobs, the stories echo the same truth: Nigerians are struggling, but still standing.

They are not asking for miracles — just a system that works. One where food doesn’t cost more than a day’s wage, where children don’t have to switch schools due to fees, and where hard work is enough to live, not just survive. Until then, the hustle continues.