My House Hunting Experience As a Single Pringle

I have heard and read stories of how tedious house hunting is in Nigeria. How agents turn to mini-gods and place fat prices on apartments. But I had never thought I’d go through the stress or have to write about it. Nothing in the stories I’d heard and read prepared me for what I encountered: I couldn’t get an apartment because I was not married.

I had been romaticising the idea of renting an apartment since last year and experiencing what it feels like to sleep and wake up alone, in my birthday suit and in my own personal space, but undergraduate studies and family pressure were keeping me off. All my life, I have been living with my mother or a family member, and that has denied me the luxury that comes with owning a personal space. 

I was on the bus one day when I heard a young man inquiring about the cost of apartments. As though something tingled inside of me, I felt it was time for me to get an apartment too. I had started saving last year when the thought first came to my mind, and I had enough to sustain myself for the first few months after I moved in. Plus I got a full-time job now and also have a few days left to spend as an undergraduate. It was time for me to live my life alone.

The first thing I thought of was the best city for me to live in. I wanted to live in a quiet area. I picked Osogbo because of its proximity to other places I might urgently need to travel to. It is closer to Ilorin, where I school. It is closer to Lagos, where my place of work is located, although I work remotely. It is closer to Ibadan where some of my family members live and it is closer to Iwo where my mother stays.   

It took me up to two months before I found an apartment that I could manage to accept. It was in those months I discovered one of the most ridiculous criteria of getting an apartment: having a wife. And it was for a ridiculous reason too. 

When I decided to get an apartment, I knew the best choice would be to go for a room and parlour apartment; I can’t allow house rent to sapalise me. The first major impediment was having to seek out different house agents, all of whom demanded money before I could inspect the flats. The inspection fee I paid those agents is enough to pay half of my rent. But I didn’t take it to heart; it’s their job. Besides, my only concern was getting an apartment of my choice.

But most of them asked me the same question: “are you married?“

At first, I took the question as an evaluation process of which apartment they thought could fit me. And of course, because I am not, I will simply respond with a “no”.

There was an apartment that I really liked and was on the edge of signing the papers before the agent asked me, “is your wife moving in with you?”

I was puzzled. “My wife?”

“Ehn, your wife na,” the agent reaffirmed.

I shrugged and told him, “I am not married.” 

At that moment, it felt as though someone slapped a cow’s mess on his face. He told me to hold on with the paper signing. He brought out his phone and walked out as though he wanted to go make a call. Briefly after, he entered and announced, “Oga, they just told me now now that they’ve taken that apartment o.” 

Haha, “how?”

“I will let you know when we have another one.”

I knew something didn’t feel right but I wasn’t going to push it. I’d been advised to be patient when house hunting so I tried not to read much into it. I left him, and he never called back.

But the more agents I met, the more consistent the question was: “Are you married?” “Are you sure your wife will like it?“ “This one that you’re looking as if you don’t like the house, you should have come with your wife na.”

It got to a point that I had to lie and respond with, “No, but soon.” Some asked, “how soon?” But I always tried to manoeuvre around the question.

I asked some of them, “Why do you people keep asking me this question?”

“The landlord wants to know” was the reply I got.

It was starting to seem like I needed to get married as soon as possible if I were to get an apartment. I knew it was more than “the landlord wants to know” because I could tell them to give me the landlord’s contact and I would tell him myself, “sir or ma, I need an apartment and I am not married. In fact, I am not getting married anytime soon.” But there was more to me being married.

At the brink of giving up, I got another agent who was very calm and jovial. Throughout the process, from inspecting different houses to finding one that I liked, he didn’t ask me if I was married. When we got back to his office, I asked him why other agents were asking if I was married.

“Hmm, it’s not a big deal. It’s just that you know, your wife will have to clean the compound. She will also be at home when you’re not around. Someone like you appears to be a busy man, so your wife can also receive messages on your behalf. But with this one, you don’t have to bother. The landlord does not have any issues.”

It was a culture, when I was little, to have women in the compound do the cleaning. They had a roaster for who would sweep and clean. Each week, those women bent their backs for more than one hour every day, sweeping. Most of them on the insistence of the landlord and their husbands, and against their own will. I used to think that was how it was meant to be.

When the man finished explaining, I asked him, “but what makes those landlords think my wife would be willing to sweep the compound?” Before saying that, I had signed the papers and paid for the house. 

House hunting made me realise that there’s still a lot to be changed in society as regards gender equality. It’s a different thing when a woman chooses to do it. It is also a different thing when she does this for a living. But it’s ridiculous when it becomes a criterion for renting an apartment. 

 

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