My story is one of anger, frustration, and helplessness. It’s about living in Aba, Nigeria, under Aba Power—and feeling like I’m being robbed in broad daylight. There’s a systemic injustice, and I want to explain what I’ve seen, what I’m going through, and what many others endure, hoping something might change.
Each morning I wake up hoping for electricity. Instead, disappointment. Aba Power’s claims of “24-hour light,” “free prepaid meters,” and “transparency” are, in many cases, propaganda. They don’t match what residents like me experience in Ogborhill.
The power that Isn’t
Aba Power boasts of near-constant electricity, yet we’re lucky to get a few hours daily. Power often flickers in late evenings, cutting off abruptly, returning in fits and starts. They talk of 24-hour supply, but it’s not even close.
The worst part is billing. My area has no prepaid meters, so we endure “estimated billing.” Aba Power guesses what we might have used—based on other feeders or averages—and bills us accordingly.
This method piles up arrears we never agreed to pay. In fact, an Aba Power staff informed me that the bill is determined by the amount his superiors decide a particular transformer should generate in any given month.
They promise free prepaid meters, but when they finally arrive, old arrears—built on inflated estimates—get transferred to the new meter. We’re suddenly saddled with months or years of “debt” for unreliable electricity. It’s unjust and demoralizing.
My bills
Here’s what it looks like.
By December 2024, bills were about ₦7,000–₦8,000 per unit. My one-story, six-flat building receives three bills. Then in January, they suddenly spiked to ₦28,000 for the same usage.
By August, the three bills totalled about ₦240,000. In September, they jumped again—to ₦88,000 each. My tenants pay ₦20,000–₦25,000 in rent monthly, yet Aba Power expects nearly twice that in electricity fees. For erratic power. It’s absurd.
Recently, Aba Power officials stormed my area, threatening disconnection. When I questioned why we should pay ₦240,000 for inconsistent service with no meter, a supervisor said I was “lucky” it wasn’t worse—and warned that each tenant might soon get ₦88,000 bills.
This is common. Many neighbors face the same threats. The message is clear: pay, or lose electricity—even if the bills make no sense.
What Aba Power claims
To be fair, Aba Power says it’s improving. They claim:
Prepaid meters are being distributed free.
Meter coverage rose from 5% in 2023 to 28% in 2024.
120,000 new meters are targeted for 2025.
They acknowledge estimated billing is controversial and promise transparency once metering expands. On paper, it sounds reasonable. In reality, it’s uneven and painfully slow.
Most households in Ogborhill remain unmetered, meaning more inflated estimates. When meters do come, massive arrears are transferred. Targets like Governor Alex Otti’s goal of 22-hour power aren’t being met.
The glossy press releases don’t reflect the darkness we live in. What Aba Power says and what we experience are worlds apart.
Is it fair to pay tens of thousands of naira every month for unreliable electricity? To owe for power not supplied, or only partly given? To be threatened with disconnection over unverified estimates?
What should be done
Here’s what people like me demand:
1. Universal metering. Every consumer deserves a prepaid meter and accurate billing.
2. Transparent estimates. Until all meters arrive, estimates must be limited, auditable, and never carried over as arrears.
3. No debt transfer. Disputed or inflated arrears shouldn’t follow new meters.
4. Reliable supply. If Aba Power or the government promises 22-hour electricity, they must deliver—or clearly explain why not.
5. Regulatory enforcement. NERC and consumer bodies must ensure compliance with fair billing and service rules.
6. Accountability. Tariffs, rollout schedules, and billing methods must be public and trackable.
What’s happening in Aba feels like theft. Aba Power demands payments far beyond what many can afford, transfers bogus arrears, and threatens to cut off customers who question it. We are literally paying for darkness—for power we didn’t get.
This isn’t mismanagement; it’s exploitation hidden behind official language. They use promises of “free meters” and “steady power” to justify ongoing extraction.
I haven’t lost hope. But hope alone won’t change anything. We need action—collective pressure and regulatory intervention.
I urge NERC to audit these bills, enforce metering, and review arrears. I call on civil society groups like FENRAD to intensify their advocacy. I want my bills reviewed, unjust arrears canceled, and meters installed without delay. And no one should be disconnected for contesting unfair charges.
This fight isn’t about avoiding payment—it’s about paying for what we actually get, not for inflated guesses.
The bigger picture
Across Nigeria, millions face the same injustice. DisCos rely on estimated billing to cover inefficiencies, and consumers bear the burden. Inflation, vandalism, and forex crises are real—but they don’t justify cheating people.
Each time Aba Power releases another statement about “meter rollout,” I want to believe them. But until I see a meter in my home and a fair bill that matches my consumption, I will keep speaking out.
The author is a resident of Aba City in Nigeria
