The childcare crisis in Nigeria: Why families and the economy are at a breaking point

When I moved back to Nigeria four years ago, I was eager to embrace what I had always believed was a hallmark of life here—an abundant supply of childcare providers, nannies, housekeepers, and drivers. Friends and loved ones had assured me that these services were not only readily available but also affordable. You can imagine my shock when it took my family three full months to find nannies for our four children.

It felt like playing Russian roulette—you never quite knew what you were going to get. The process started with finding an agency, many of which operate without regulation or oversight. These agencies often claim to have completed health and background checks, but our experience told a different story. During interviews, some applicants tested positive for Hepatitis or HIV, raising serious concerns about the validity of these so-called checks.

The worst part of it all? The flood of text messages from other desperate parents asking if I could share my agent or recommend a credible nanny. It quickly became clear that the real problem wasn’t just my family’s struggle—it was systemic. The truth is, finding a trained, vetted, and reliable care worker or childcare provider in Nigeria is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

After an incident at home where my care worker accidentally poured hot Amala on my toddler’s thighs and went to great lengths to cover it up, I had to let go of all the nannies in my home. The duty of care expected for the role simply wasn’t there. In my desperation to find trustworthy care workers, I joined a WhatsApp group called the Staff Info List Lagos, which now has over 500 members. The group was created as a grassroots effort to enable traceability of care workers in a system with virtually no formal oversight. The members, almost exclusively mothers, use the platform to post photos and names of potential hires, hoping others in the group might recognize them or know of their past employment history.

The group initially went a step further, creating a shared document that included pictures and names of care workers who had been blacklisted for alleged misconduct. However, this move was met with skepticism, as the lack of formal due process raised concerns about fairness and accuracy. Yet, for many parents, this informal network is the only option available.

Mothers in the group have shared harrowing stories of children being mistreated or neglected by care workers, theft of property, and gross acts of negligence that endangered both property and lives. These women are turning to one another out of desperation, knowing they have nowhere else to go for reliable support or accountability.

This highlights an urgent need for formal oversight, regulation, and protection for families. Without a structured system to ensure the vetting and monitoring of care workers, parents are left to fend for themselves, relying on word-of-mouth and informal networks that are far from adequate. Families need safeguards, care workers need professionalization, and the entire childcare ecosystem needs reform—now more than ever.

The childcare ecosystem in Nigeria is broken. Nannies typically come from low-income backgrounds and often view this work as a temporary stop on their way to “something better.” For many, taking on these roles is a matter of survival—“na condition make crayfish bend.” Some save diligently in hopes of starting a business, while others remain trapped in a cycle of financial instability, unable to save or progress.

This is exacerbated by the lack of regulation in the care workforce. Domestic workers, including nannies, are not covered by Nigerian labor laws, leaving them with no legal framework to demand fair wages, better working conditions, or access to benefits. Many of these workers are undervalued and overworked, with no standard pay structure or protections to support them.

On the other side, parents are equally trapped in a system that offers no reliable support. The lack of childcare infrastructure means many parents are forced to make impossible choices between their careers and their families. I recently spoke to a friend, a mother of two, who had to take an entire week off work because her nanny quit unexpectedly. With no reliable agency or structure to turn to, she had no choice but to step in herself, disrupting her work and adding immense stress to her life.

A Call to Action: Building the Future of Childcare in Nigeria
The childcare system in Nigeria is long overdue for reform. We need a sustainable childcare infrastructure that supports both working families and the care workforce. This means:
• Regulating the care industry: Agencies and individuals offering childcare services must be held to a higher standard with proper health, safety, and background checks.
• Professionalizing the workforce: Nannies and other domestic workers deserve access to training, fair wages, and benefits to ensure they are valued and supported in their roles.
• Investing in childcare infrastructure: The government and private sector must work together to establish affordable, reliable childcare centers and creches that working families can count on.
• Implementing labor protections for care workers: It’s time to include domestic workers in Nigerian labor laws, giving them the rights and protections they need to thrive.

Childcare isn’t just a family issue—it’s an economic imperative. By strengthening the childcare ecosystem, we empower families, unlock women’s full potential in the workforce, and contribute to the nation’s economic growth. The time for action is now.