To live in Nigeria is to live under someone’s roof—your own, or someone else’s. For the majority, it is the latter. From the crowded tenements of Mushin to the newly built estates in Ikorodu, from the sprawling flats of Lekki to the compact rooms of Agege, life is structured around one simple fact: shelter is rented. In every tenancy, there exists a silent contract. The tenant promises to pay rent. The landlord promises to provide a habitable dwelling. But between these promises lies a battlefield of disputes, frustrations, and endless drama.
The Lagos landlord who locks out a defaulting tenant without notice. The Abuja tenant who turns a residential flat into a beer parlour. The Yaba student whose landlord refuses to fix the leaking roof but demands prompt rent. These are not isolated tales. They are the daily theatre of Nigerian tenancy, and behind them stands the law, quietly holding a balance that both landlords and tenants often pretend does not exist.
Tenancy law in Nigeria is not uniform. Each state has its own legislation, shaped by local needs and politics. Lagos, ever the outlier, passed the Lagos Tenancy Law of 2011, which continues to govern most parts of the state, except highbrow areas like Ikoyi, Victoria Island, and Apapa. Abuja relies on the Recovery of Premises Act, a relic from colonial times but still potent. Other states have their own tenancy laws, some modern, some outdated. Yet, despite these differences, the underlying principle remains the same: tenancy is a legal relationship. It is contractual, enforceable, and regulated.
For landlords, the law is clear: you have rights, but they are not absolute. You are entitled to your rent. You may recover possession of your property. You may even increase rent within the limits of law. But you must respect your tenant’s right to quiet enjoyment. You cannot stroll into their flat unannounced, switch off their power supply, remove the roof, or lock them out to enforce payment. The law forbids “self-help.” Even when a tenant defaults, the landlord’s only remedy is due process. The Lagos Tenancy Law explicitly prohibits harassment and illegal eviction. Courts across Nigeria have awarded damages against landlords who took the law into their own hands.
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Equally, the law imposes obligations on tenants. To pay rent when due. To use the premises responsibly. To avoid turning a family house into a shrine or nightclub. To keep the property in reasonable condition. To refrain from subletting where prohibited. A tenant who defaults may face eviction—but again, eviction must follow due process. In this regard, the law favours order over chaos.
It is in eviction that Nigerian tenancy law is most fiercely contested. Every Lagos tenant knows the phrase “quit notice.” It is not optional. Whether one month for monthly tenants, three months for quarterly tenants, or six months for yearly tenants, the law requires a landlord to serve proper notice before reclaiming possession. When the notice expires, the landlord must serve a seven-day notice of intention to recover possession. Only then may the landlord go to court. And only after the court grants an order can an eviction be carried out. Without these steps, the landlord is in breach.
Consider the common spectacle: a landlord storms a tenant’s flat with police officers (sometimes hired), changes the locks, and dumps belongings by the roadside. It may look dramatic, even satisfying for the landlord, but it is illegal. The tenant may sue for trespass and damages. Nigerian courts have consistently struck down such high-handedness. In Ayinke Stores Ltd v. Adebogun, the courts made it clear: no eviction is valid without due process. Even where rent has not been paid for years, the landlord must follow the procedure. It is the law’s way of reminding us that property rights and human dignity must coexist.
But tenants, too, often misunderstand their rights. The fact that your landlord has failed to fix the broken plumbing does not give you a licence to stop paying rent. The duty to pay is separate. You may sue the landlord for breach of duty to repair, but withholding rent can weaken your case. Many tenants also miscalculate notice periods, assuming that a landlord’s delay or mistake makes them untouchable. In reality, courts balance equities. If a tenant has defaulted, the court may still grant possession, but only if notices and procedures are properly followed.
Tenancy law, ultimately, is not about rent alone. It is about justice in the home.
The Lagos Tenancy Law of 2011 deserves special mention. It was introduced to modernize landlord-tenant relations, especially in a city where housing demand outstrips supply. It forbids landlords from demanding more than one year’s rent in advance for new tenants in residential premises. It criminalizes forceful eviction. It provides remedies for both sides. Yet, more than a decade later, compliance is uneven. Many landlords still demand two years’ rent upfront. Many tenants still face midnight lockouts. The gap between law and practice remains wide.
Let us imagine two cases in Ikorodu. In Ijede, a tenant named Kunle rents a two-bedroom flat for ₦400,000 a year. After paying for one year, he falls behind in the second year. The landlord, impatient, seizes his household goods and sells them off. Kunle, embarrassed, moves out quietly. He has lost twice: his home and his property. But if Kunle had gone to court, he could have claimed damages for unlawful eviction. In contrast, in Igbogbo, another landlord serves proper notices, takes his tenant to court, obtains an order, and executes it lawfully. He regains possession, recovers arrears, and sleeps peacefully at night. The difference is knowledge—and respect for law.
The lesson is simple but profound. For tenants: pay your rent, respect your lease, know your rights. For landlords: follow due process, respect your tenant’s dignity, use the courts. For both sides: understand that tenancy is not a casual relationship. It is legal. It is binding. And it is enforceable.
Nigeria’s housing crisis makes tenancy disputes inevitable. But a society where tenancy law is respected is a society where fewer families are thrown into the streets unlawfully, where landlords’ investments are secure, and where courts are trusted to arbitrate fairly. We cannot eliminate the tension between landlords and tenants, but we can insist that the law, not raw power, decides.
Tenancy law, ultimately, is not about rent alone. It is about justice in the home. It is about ensuring that the roof over your head is not held hostage to ignorance, intimidation, or impunity. In a country where housing is already scarce, the least we can do is ensure that what exists is managed lawfully. That is the promise of tenancy law. And it is a promise both landlords and tenants must learn to keep.
