Facility Focus: The Illusion of Luxury in Nigeria

Kenny Akintola

In Nigeria, “luxury” is just overpriced suffering dressed up with marble floors, heavy gates, and estate WhatsApp groups buzzing with complaints. What’s sold as “premium living” is a tragic comedy: you pay millions for stress wrapped in granite and cement.

The Luxury Estate Mirage

Luxury estates? More like glorified traps. You shell out millions to live in one, but if the single access road is blocked, good luck. Few weeks back, a truck broke down in Banana Island—yes, the Banana Island, playground of the rich and restless. Residents were stranded for four hours. That’s not luxury; it’s a VVIP hostage situation.

Worse, many estates, especially in the Lekki corridor, seem to attract slum settlements in their shadows. Why? They become magnets for low-paid service workers—cleaners, handymen, skilled laborers—who can’t afford the transportation costs from their family homes to serve the elite. These workers settle nearby, creating makeshift communities that highlight the stark inequality just beyond the estate gates. Your “luxury” estate is surrounded by the very poverty it pretends to escape.

In another “premium” estate, a central generator caught fire four months ago. No replacement, no compensation, not even an apology. Yet tenants still pay millions for “fully serviced” apartments—more like fully suffering apartments. When the estate’s transformer gave up, residents went weeks without light or water. Just vibes and diesel receipts. The facility manager? Rude and condescending, as if you’re the one owing them rent.

Banks That Bleed You Dry

Banking in Nigeria is an overpriced circus. Try to transfer money, and the app crashes. Visit a branch? “Network is down.” Call your account officer, the one who begged you to open the account, and they act like you’re interrupting their family reunion once the account is open. Meanwhile, you’re charged SMS fees for alerts that never arrive and ₦4,200 for “card maintenance” on a card you haven’t touched. In other countries, banks court you. Here, you beg to manage your own money.

Hospitals That Bill You to Death

Visit a “luxury” hospital, and you’re hit with consultation, card, access, and admin fees—only to hear, “The doctor isn’t around.” Need to give birth? Bring your own gloves, drip, cotton wool, and a power bank. One woman’s baby’s immunization was delayed because “NEPA took light.” These hospitals charge London prices but deliver Ajegunle service. You pay millions and still pray nothing goes wrong.

Restaurants Where Complaints Are a Sin

Fine dining in Lagos is a scam with ambiance. The food arrives underseasoned, overcooked, or just plain nonsense. Dare to complain, and the waiter glares like you’re the problem. “That’s how the chef does it,” they’ll say chef who can’t boil water. Then they slap a 10% service charge for the attitude and headache.

Retail: Overpaying for Frustration

Retail is no better. Pay ₦200k for an Ankara outfit made from ₦15k material, and the tailor ghosts you, delivers late, then tells you to “respect yourself” when you complain.
Online vendors? They delay, you complain, they block. Everything’s labeled “luxury” like it’s a seasoning cube, but it’s all vibes and harsh billing.

The Vanishing Greenery

Want leisure or fresh air? Good luck. The government has sand filled beaches and handed them to developers. Now, sitting by the ocean means paying gate fees, table fees, parking fees, and buying overpriced mojitos. Bring your own food? Forget it. Kids today barely know what a park is—just concrete, fences, and warning signs. Estates are “fully built” but lack trees or safe spaces for play.
I recently visited Togo and Cotonou, and in Benin Republic, I found clean roads, trees, and fresh air. My lungs rejoiced. Nigerians are paying a premium to choke.

What Are We Paying For?

We’re not paying for luxury, we’re paying for packaging. Shiny tiles, gold-tinted bulbs, and marketing that sells struggle as success. From estates to hospitals, banks to restaurants, it’s the same cycle: overcharge, underdeliver, gaslight.
Luxury isn’t about how much you charge; it’s about the experience you provide.

So… What’s the Way Forward?

It’s not enough to call out the problems — we need to start demanding better and building better. Here’s what has to change:

1. Enforce Accountability in the Private Sector
   If you charge for “luxury,” you must deliver luxury. Developers, estate managers, service providers, banks, hospitals — they must be held to standards, or sanctioned. Regulatory bodies like NERC, FCCPC, and town planning authorities need to wake up and do more than issue press releases. They need to bite, not bark.
2. Regulate the Real Estate & Facility Management Space
   Let’s stop letting just anybody wear a reflective vest and call themselves a facility manager. There should be minimum operational standards, proper training, and consequences for negligence. It’s time to professionalize this industry.
3. Empower Consumers
   We need a cultural shift: luxury isn’t about tolerance, it’s about value. Nigerians must stop accepting bad service as normal. Speak up. Demand receipts. Leave reviews. Use your voice and your wallet to reward good service and expose bad ones.
4. Government Must Prioritize Urban Planning & Public Spaces
   Lagos and other cities need proper urban planning. One access road to an entire estate? Madness. Beaches turned into private clubs? Tragic. The government must protect green spaces, create public parks, and stop sand-filling every inch of coastline for short-term gain.
5. Support Local Builders of Quality
   Not every solution must come from “abroad.” There are Nigerians building responsibly, offering true value. Let’s support them. Let’s invest in systems, not just surfaces
   Luxury is not a price tag. It’s peace of mind. It’s clean water, working power, responsive management, respectful service, and thoughtful design. Until we shift our collective mindset from “appearance” to experience, Nigeria will keep selling premium pain wrapped in gold ribbon.
   But if we begin to demand more consistently, loudly, and with standards we can change the game.
   Till next time , stay safe.

Kenny Akintola
Chief facility officer
Express business support (EBS)