When @_nonconformist1, a Nigerian living abroad, took to X (formerly Twitter) to express his disbelief over his mother’s electricity bill in Nigeria, he didn’t expect it to strike such a nerve, amassing over 319,000 views in less than 48 hours.
“My mom’s ‘NEPA’ bill in May was more expensive than mine in diaspora with 24-hour power supply… I am not even joking,” he posted on June 3, 2025.
NEPA, the defunct National Electric Power Authority, is still colloquially referred to as the country’s electricity provider.
It has been unbundled into various distribution companies (DisCos), yet the struggle remains painfully unchanged: irregular supply and astronomically rising bills.
Nigeria’s power sector has long been a paradox. The country boasts vast energy resources such as solar, gas, and hydro, but remains plagued by epileptic electricity supply.
The former Power Holding Company of Nigeria (PHCN), often still referred to by its predecessor’s name ‘NEPA,’ is more associated with power outages than provision.
Today, under the privatised electricity distribution system, Nigerians are now grappling with what many call ‘crazy’ electricity bills. For low- and middle-income families, this isn’t just an inconvenience, it’s a crisis.
Mojisola Adeyemi, a nurse and mother of three working in Lagos University Teaching Hospital, said her monthly electricity bill soared to N48,000 in May.
That’s almost half of her salary as a school administrator. “We don’t even have power for more than 10 hours a day,” she lamented. “I use a prepaid meter, but somehow they still bring an estimated bill.”
Read also: Powering progress: The case for cost-reflective electricity tariffs in Nigeria
Like Mojisola, thousands of Nigerians live in fear of the monthly knock on the gate: the electricity bill. Even those with prepaid meters report sudden, unexplained deductions.
Obinna Ukachu, an phone seller in Abuja, said he receives over N100,000 electricity bills each month.
“They expect me to pay at least 80 percent of their bloated bills every month. The is besides the money I spend on my children school fees, food for the family, transport and family upkeep,” he said.
Exodus from grid
For decades, Nigeria’s power sector was built on three main customer categories: residential users and small businesses; commercial users consuming 12 to 36 megawatts; and industrial giants pulling 36 megawatts or more.
The cash cow among them had always been the commercial and industrial class, big buyers billed at premium rates, valued for their timely payments.
But that business model has collapsed.
From industrial zones in Lagos to cement plants in the North, companies are building their own power solutions, gas turbines, solar grids, and diesel plants, creating a parallel electricity economy beyond government control.
More than 249 firms and institutions now hold captive power permits from the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC), collectively generating over 6,500 megawatts. This is more than Nigeria’s entire national grid, which often struggles to supply between 4,500 and 5,000MW.
From Dangote’s 1,500MW of self-generated power to Total’s 174MW plant and Flour Mills’ 70MW station, companies across telecoms, oil and gas, food, beverage, and manufacturing are choosing independence.
Even universities and hospitals now secure their own supply.
The result?
A national grid increasingly sustained by its weakest link: residential and small-scale business consumers.
The human cost
This industrial exodus has left a vacuum. With high-demand customers off-grid, the national electricity market is now disproportionately funded by residential users, those who consume the least and are often least able to afford premium tariffs.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Band A, a tariff category introduced to deliver 20+ hours of daily electricity at a cost of N206.80/kWh as of April 2024. On paper, it rewards reliability. In practice, it penalises trust.
“It’s like we’re being punished for being on Band A,” said Ifeanyi Nwosu, a banker in Lekki, Lagos. “We barely get 15 hours of electricity on some days, yet my bill is outrageous. Meanwhile, my neighbor with a prepaid meter in Band C pays a fraction and runs his generator at night.”
Ifeanyi’s experience is shared across Nigeria’s urban centers. Customers who opted into Band A, hoping for consistency, now feel trapped, paying higher bills without guaranteed service. And while they pay more, the power remains as erratic as ever.
“The departure of commercial and industrial users gutted the grid’s financial model. Residential users were never meant to carry this burden alone,” said Aisha Mohammed, an energy analyst at the Lagos-based Center for Development Studies.
She added, “Their consumption is lower, payment rates are inconsistent, and many are still on estimated billing systems. It’s not sustainable.”
Read also:Running on Empty: Electricity sector reform and Nigeria’s national security imperative
A system out of sync
What fuels this disconnect? Experts point to a cocktail of systemic problems: poor metering infrastructure, inconsistent power generation, corruption, and lack of accountability. Although the federal government privatised the sector in 2013 to improve efficiency, the system has failed to translate into better service for most Nigerians.
Metering, in particular, is a sticking point.
Despite several mass metering initiatives, millions of households still lack functional meters and are billed on estimates, often arbitrary, and always controversial.
“The estimated billing system is essentially legalised extortion,” said Ifeoma Eze, a power policy analyst. “You have a system that incentivises overbilling because there’s no oversight or consequence.”
The cost of silence
For many, the silence of regulators is the loudest part of the problem. The Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC), whose mandate is to protect consumers, has been criticised for failing to enforce transparency and discipline in the sector.
“They just increase the tariff, and we accept it,” said Ibrahim Musa, a Kano-based fashion designer. “There’s no voice for the poor man.”
In January 2024, a new tariff hike quietly took effect, under the guise of a ‘cost-reflective’ pricing model. Officials claim the new rates are necessary to keep the sector afloat, but ordinary Nigerians see it differently.
“Reflect what?” asked Adeyemi, earlier quoted. “My life has not improved. My power has not improved. But my bill has tripled.”
Living off grid
With grid power unreliable and increasingly unaffordable, many Nigerians are taking matters into their own hands—investing in solar inverters, mini-grids, and even going off-grid completely. But this shift comes with its own challenges: high upfront costs, lack of government support, and technical inefficiencies.
In the long run, analysts warn, this fragmented approach could undermine national energy goals, deepen inequality, and widen the urban-rural divide.
Hope or more hype?
Despite the gloom, some believe reform is still possible. The 2023 Electricity Act, which gives states the power to generate, transmit, and distribute electricity, is seen as a potential game-changer.
But experts said the real impact will depend on political will, investment, and citizen advocacy.
Until then, tweets like @_nonconformist1’s will continue to echo across Nigeria’s digital space, giving voice to the frustration of millions who are forced to pay for electricity they do not receive.
