Price gouging, greedflation in Nigeria: Elephant in room

By Ademuyiwa Adebola Taofeek

Walk into any Nigerian market today and you’ll immediately feel it. That sinking feeling when you realise the bag of rice you bought last month for N60,000 now costs N70,000. The trader shrugs and blames “economic hardship,” but you know something doesn’t add up.

This is greedflation at work, and it’s the elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about seriously.

Nigeria’s economic troubles are real, don’t get me wrong. We’re dealing with inflation above 20%. Reduced oil revenues and security challenges that would make any economy stumble. But here’s what’s grinding my gears: too many businesses are using these genuine problems as cover for outright exploitation.

They’re not just passing on increased costs to consumers anymore. They’re deliberately inflating prices way beyond what any reasonable analysis of supply chain disruptions would justify.

What we’re seeing isn’t just regular inflation driven by economic fundamentals. It’s greedflation, plain and simple. Companies and traders are exploiting economic uncertainty to fatten their profit margins while ordinary Nigerians suffer. And the worst part? Most people don’t even realise they’re being played.

Price gouging has always existed, sure. But what’s happening now feels different. More systematic. More brazen. Traders openly admit to hoarding goods until prices spike. Filling stations hold back fuel supplies to create artificial scarcity, knowing desperate drivers will pay whatever they ask. Landlords in Lagos and Abuja are jacking up rent by 50% or more, simply because they can.

Let me share a personal experience that opened my eyes to how deep this greedflation problem goes. A few months ago, the whole country was preparing for the Sallah celebrations, and the price of tomatoes was so high that people were seriously considering alternatives.

I stumbled upon a TikTok account that was ready to sell a basket of tomatoes for N25,000 plus a N5,000 transport fee to Lagos from Jos. The seller was seeking more buyers to ship it to Lagos together, seizing the opportunity of the yearnings of the people.

Lo and behold! I took a chance and patronised her, spending a total of N35,000 for a basket, including logistics within Lagos, as against the N120,000 in the popular perishable goods market in Lagos. What happened? The merchants also bought from North Central, so how come a consumer buying directly from Jos was able to save about N80,000 on a basket of tomatoes? This experience made me realise just how much middlemen are inflating prices beyond any reasonable justification.

We have come to see it as a norm for prices of commodities to change during festivities in Nigeria. Is it an artificial phenomenon or the law of demand and demand? After my experience, I asked some simple questions on my X account, but people who were either ignorant or beneficiaries of greedflation came hard on me, questioning my knowledge of economics.

My understanding was that farmers are the biggest victims while middlemen cart away with most profits, all in the name of the burden of risk.

Another experience I had running a restaurant in Lagos eventually led me out of the business entirely. The food business requires a constant supply of goods like pepper, tomatoes, livestock products like meat, fish and eggs.

These, in all sincerity, determine the viability of your business. I saw firsthand how greedflation and sharp price changes send entrepreneurs out of business in Nigeria. A typical scenario: you buy a basket of tomatoes at Mile 12 market for N12,000 on Monday, you go back on Wednesday, and it’s N19,500. You can’t tweak your menu to accommodate the price change, but the middleman selling pepper, tomatoes and other items can conveniently force you to pay. You keep running negative till you can change your menu, if you survive that long.

The housing market is even worse. In cities like Port Harcourt, Lagos, and Abuja, landlords have declared open season on tenants. There are no meaningful rent control laws, so they’re free to increase prices arbitrarily. Young professionals are forced to choose between paying extortionate rent or moving back in with their parents. Families are squeezed out of neighbourhoods they’ve lived in for years.

But here’s the thing that gets to me: this isn’t happening in a vacuum. The regulatory agencies that are supposed to protect consumers often seem overwhelmed by the scale of the problem. Whether they lack resources, technical capacity, or political backing, the result is the same. Exploitative pricing continues largely unchecked.

And let’s be honest about the data problem. How can you prove price manipulation when nobody’s keeping proper track of what things should cost? We don’t have real-time market monitoring systems. We don’t have transparent pricing mechanisms. This information gap gives unscrupulous traders all the room they need to operate.

Then there’s the corruption angle, which we all know exists but nobody wants to address head-on. Market cartels in pharmaceuticals, food distribution, and oil products don’t just happen by accident. They require coordination, and often, they require looking the other way from officials who should be stopping them.

What makes this particularly cruel is how it hits the most vulnerable Nigerians hardest. If you’re wealthy, a 50% increase in food prices is annoying but manageable. If you’re already struggling to feed your family, that same increase can mean choosing between food and medicine, or between school fees and rent. The poor are bearing the brunt of other people’s greed.

I’ve watched families cut back on everything, not because of genuine scarcity, but because traders are artificially inflating prices. Children are pulled out of school. Medical treatments are postponed. Basic nutrition suffers. All so that some traders can maximise their profits during a crisis.

This erosion of trust goes deeper than just economics. When people realise that their government can’t or won’t protect them from exploitation, they lose faith in institutions altogether. Black markets flourish. Informal networks become more important than official channels. Society fractures along lines of those who can afford inflated prices and those who can’t.

From a business perspective, this kind of price instability is toxic for legitimate investment. How do you plan a business when prices are being manipulated rather than determined by actual market conditions? Foreign investors notice this stuff. Local entrepreneurs get discouraged. The whole economy suffers when prices lose their connection to reality.

So what can be done about this elephant in the room? First, we need regulatory agencies with real teeth. Not just the authority to investigate price manipulation, but the resources and political backing to do something about it. Real-time monitoring systems that can flag suspicious pricing patterns before they become entrenched.

Competition policy needs a complete overhaul. Break up these cartels and monopolies that enable systematic price manipulation. Encourage local production and distribution networks that can provide genuine alternatives to dominant players. When consumers have real choices, exploitative pricing becomes much harder to sustain.

Transparency could be a game-changer here. Imagine digital platforms that track and publish average market prices in real-time. Consumers would know immediately when they’re being gouged. Regulators would have the data they need to spot manipulation. Market pressure for fair pricing would increase dramatically.

We also need to get serious about educating people. Many Nigerians don’t realise when they’re being exploited because they assume all price increases are inevitable. Public awareness campaigns should teach people to recognise gouging and provide clear channels for reporting it. An informed public is much harder to exploit.

Protecting whistleblowers and supporting investigative journalism could expose the networks that enable systematic exploitation. These practices thrive in darkness. Shine some light on them through media investigations and public exposure, and suddenly they become much less attractive to perpetrators.

But here’s what frustrates me most: we keep focusing on macroeconomic indicators while ignoring this elephant stomping around the room. Yes, Nigeria has structural economic challenges that will take years to fix.

But greedflation is adding an entirely unnecessary layer of hardship right now. Today. While we’re debating fiscal policy and monetary instruments, ordinary people are being systematically robbed.

This isn’t some abstract economic concept. It’s theft, dressed up in the language of market forces. It’s wealthy individuals and corporations profiting from the desperation of millions. And until we name it clearly and address it directly, it will continue to function as a hidden tax on Nigeria’s most vulnerable citizens.

The choice is simple. We can keep pretending that all price increases are just natural consequences of economic difficulties. Or we can acknowledge that some people are exploiting those difficulties for personal gain, and we can do something about it.

The evidence is right there in our markets, in our fuel stations, in our neighbourhoods. The elephant isn’t hiding anymore. The question is whether we’re finally ready to address it.

Ademuyiwa, a public affairs commentator, writes from Abuja