How much do you want me to sell it for?
Across Nigeria's cities, the fuel that heats the daily meal has become something families must deliberate over, as cooking gas prices surge past N2,400 per kilogram even as domestic production rises — a paradox that exposes how abundance at the source does not guarantee relief at the hearth. The gap between what refineries produce and what consumers can afford is being filled by a chain of costs, margins, and market pressures that no single actor controls but all must bear. In the oldest of human struggles — the ability to cook food safely and affordably — millions of Nigerian households now find themselves choosing between their wallets and their health, reaching instead for charcoal and firewood, fuels the modern era was meant to leave behind.
- Cooking gas prices have more than doubled since May, reaching N2,400/kg at some retail outlets — a cost so steep that boiling a pot of beans has become a financial decision.
- Families in Lagos, Ibadan, and Ilorin are abandoning gas stoves for charcoal and firewood, trading cleaner air for affordability and absorbing the health costs that come with smoke-filled kitchens.
- Some gas dealers have stopped selling altogether, unable to absorb the volatility, quietly dismantling the retail infrastructure that clean-cooking initiatives spent years building.
- Marketers are paying N25–26 million per 20 metric tonnes of LPG, a wholesale burden that cascades down the supply chain and lands hardest on the consumer — despite Nigeria producing more gas domestically than ever before.
- Industry leaders are warning of potential public unrest, and a reseller's blunt question — 'How much do you want me to sell it for?' — captures the impossible arithmetic squeezing every link in the chain.
In filling stations and neighborhood stalls across Nigeria's major cities, cooking gas — the fuel behind millions of daily meals — has quietly become a luxury. Retail prices have climbed to N2,400 per kilogram in some areas, while formal filling stations charge between N1,650 and N1,900. The gap between those figures tells its own story about desperation and the margins that feed on it.
For households already strained by food inflation and rising rents, the surge is one pressure too many. In Ibadan, Deborah Akintola watched prices nearly double between May and early June. Mary Dada, a mother of two, spoke of bewilderment at increases that arrive without warning. In Lagos, Ibrahim Ozigis paid N1,100 in May and N1,650 for the same amount weeks later. The response has been swift: families are switching to charcoal and firewood — cheaper, but dirtier, and carrying their own costs in smoke and health.
What makes the crisis particularly sharp is that it defies easy explanation. Nigeria has significantly expanded its domestic LPG production over the past year, reducing reliance on imports. By any measure of supply, prices should be easing. Instead, they are climbing. The Nigerian Association of Liquefied Petroleum Gas Marketers has warned that marketers now pay N25–26 million per 20 metric tonnes — a wholesale cost that, passed through the chain, produces a retail price the association itself calls prohibitive.
Opeyemi Olaire, a gas reseller in Ibadan, captures the bind from the middle of the chain. She buys at N1,700 per kilogram, pays N600 in transport, and sells at N2,400 simply to survive. Her question to the government is direct: find a way to bring the price down. What is unfolding is not a shortage in the traditional sense — it is a failure to translate production into affordability, and a warning that if the cost of cooking continues to climb, the consequences will reach well beyond the kitchen.
In the markets and filling stations across Nigeria's major cities, a quiet crisis is unfolding at the pump. Cooking gas—the fuel that heats millions of Nigerian pots each day—has become a luxury item. Prices have climbed to N2,400 per kilogram in some retail outlets, a figure that would have seemed unthinkable just months earlier. At formal filling stations, the cost sits lower but still punishing: between N1,650 and N1,900 per kilogram. The gap between these prices tells its own story—neighborhood retailers and black market operators, sensing desperation, push prices higher still.
For households already stretched thin by food inflation and rising rents, this surge has become another weight pressing down. In Ibadan, Deborah Akintola watched the price climb from N1,000 in May to N1,900 or higher by early June. "Everything, including foodstuffs, is expensive," she said, her frustration audible in the simple arithmetic of survival. Mary Dada, a mother of two, expressed bewilderment at the relentless monthly increases. In Lagos, the pattern repeated itself. Ibrahim Ozigis paid N1,100 for gas in May; by June, the same purchase cost N1,650. Desire Billy described the absurdity of the situation plainly: buying gas had become so expensive that cooking a pot of beans felt like an extravagance.
The response has been swift and visible. Families are abandoning gas for charcoal and firewood—fuels that are cheaper but dirtier, fuels that produce smoke and ash and carry their own health costs. In Ilorin, residents made the switch deliberately. Some gas dealers, facing unpredictable price swings, simply stopped selling. The infrastructure of modern cooking is quietly collapsing under its own weight.
What makes this crisis particularly bitter is that it should not be happening. Nigeria has dramatically increased its domestic production of liquefied petroleum gas. Between April 2025 and April 2026, local refineries and gas processing plants supplied the bulk of the nation's LPG. The country has reduced its dependence on imports. By every measure of supply, the situation should have eased. Instead, prices have climbed.
The Nigerian Association of Liquefied Petroleum Gas Marketers sounded an alarm. In a statement, the group's leadership—National President Edu Inyang and Executive Secretary Bassey Essien—laid bare the economics. Marketers now pay between N25.2 million and N26.2 million for just 20 metric tonnes of product. That cost, passed down through the chain, lands on the consumer as a "prohibitive" price of over N1,500 per kilogram. The association warned that the situation risks public unrest and threatens to undo years of government work promoting clean cooking energy.
Opeyemi Olaire, a gas reseller in Ibadan, explained the squeeze from her position in the middle. She buys at N1,700 per kilogram from Gasland, then pays N600 to transport it by motorcycle taxi. The math is unforgiving. "How much do you want me to sell it for?" she asked, selling at N2,400 to survive. The government, she said plainly, needs to find a way to bring the price down.
What is unfolding is not a simple shortage. It is a failure of the supply chain to translate increased production into lower costs. It is the cost-of-living crisis deepening in real time, pushing low-income families and small businesses toward the edge. And it is a warning: if the price of cooking gas—a basic necessity—continues to climb, the social fabric itself may begin to tear.
Notable Quotes
Everything, including foodstuffs, is expensive. This increase is just too much.— Deborah Akintola, housewife in Ibadan
The citizens of Nigeria now have to buy cooking gas, which should be a social commodity, at a prohibitive cost of over N1,500 per kilogramme.— Nigerian Association of Liquefied Petroleum Gas Marketers
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why hasn't increased domestic production brought prices down? That seems like the obvious outcome.
It should have, but the supply chain is broken somewhere between the refinery and the consumer. Marketers are paying enormous sums upfront—over N25 million per 20 tonnes—and that cost has to go somewhere. It goes to the retailer, then to the family buying gas.
So the problem isn't scarcity. It's the cost structure itself.
Exactly. There's enough gas. The problem is that every hand in the chain is squeezing harder because their own costs have risen. Transportation, storage, handling—it all adds up. A reseller paying N600 just to move gas by motorcycle can't absorb that loss.
And families are responding by going back to charcoal and firewood.
Yes. When gas becomes unaffordable, people don't stop cooking. They switch to what they can afford, even if it's worse for their health and the environment. That's the real cost—not just the money, but the step backward.
The marketers' association warned of public unrest. Do they mean riots, or something else?
They mean the breaking point. When basic necessities become unaffordable, people lose patience with the system. The government spent years trying to move Nigeria toward clean cooking. This crisis could undo all of that in months.