In Plateau State, a growing number of young women are selling their egg cells to fertility clinics for between N120,000 and N150,000 a cycle.
The clinics charge couples many times that amount for the same eggs. And when something goes wrong and sometimes it does there is no regulator to call, no law to invoke, and no record that the transaction ever happened.
Blessing (not her real name) was in her second year at the University of Jos when the money stopped coming from home.
Her father had lost his trading business to the economic downturn that squeezed millions of Nigerian households in 2024, and her mother, a petty trader in Vom, could barely cover feeding costs.
School fees, hostel rent, and examination levies had stacked up into a debt that felt impossible.
It was a coursemate who told her. The details were sparse but the headline was clear: a fertility clinic in Jos paid young women for their eggs, the procedure was quick, and the money was real.
“She told me it was like giving blood,” Blessing told THE WHISTLER, speaking in a low voice and declining to give her faculty or year of study.
“She said she had done it and nothing happened to her. I needed the money badly and I did not ask too many questions.”
Within two weeks, Blessing had presented herself at the clinic, signed documents she described as “plenty of papers I did not read carefully,” received a course of hormone injections over several days, and undergone the retrieval procedure. She walked away with N140,000. She paid her fees. Then the pain started.
“About a week later, my stomach was very swollen and I could not sleep well. I went to the clinic and they gave me some tablets and told me it was normal. But it lasted almost one month,” she said.
She has not donated again. She has not seen a gynaecologist since. She does not know if the procedure has affected her long-term fertility. Nobody told her to find out.
Blessing’s experience is precisely what the Plateau State Gender and Equal Opportunity Commission (PLASGEOC) said it has been uncovering across the state’s campuses and precisely why it has decided to speak publicly about a practice that has, until now, operated entirely in the shadows.
The commission said it had identified at least one fertility facility in the state where young women donate their ova, the medical term for egg cells in exchange for cash payments. It described the practice as exploitative and classified it as a form of gender-based violence.
The commission’s Head of Information Unit, Nene Dung, said donors are reportedly paid between N120,000 and N150,000 per egg retrieval cycle, while the couples receiving treatment are charged significantly more for the same procedure.
“People seeking fertility treatment are charged significant amounts, while young girls are paid to donate their ova. Some of them use the money to purchase expensive phones or meet other personal needs,” Dung said.
The commission has already taken its awareness campaign directly into higher institutions engaging the University of Jos, Plateau State Polytechnic in Barkin Ladi, the College of Education Gindiri, and the University of Education Pankshin.
Students at each institution have been told about the potential health consequences of egg donation and urged to make informed decisions about their reproductive health.
“The problem is not limited to communities; it is also prevalent in schools. We are intensifying awareness efforts to ensure young women understand the implications and risks involved,” Dung said.
The commission also called on parents and guardians to pay closer attention to the welfare and activities of their children, and urged all stakeholders to support efforts to hold exploitative facilities accountable.
The alarm in Plateau State is a localised expression of a national problem rooted in the near-total absence of regulation governing Nigeria’s fast-expanding fertility industry.
There are now around 100 fertility clinics operating across Nigeria which is an increase of over 4,000 percent since the first IVF clinic was established in the country over two decades ago.
The industry has grown rapidly, fuelled by rising awareness of infertility treatment and the expansion of private fertility services beyond Lagos and Abuja into secondary cities like Jos, Kaduna, and Kano.
Regulatory oversight has not kept pace.
Nigeria’s National Health Act of 2014 is the only law that attempts to regulate egg donation in the country, but it does not directly address it.
Section 53 of the Act criminalises the buying or selling of human tissue and since eggs are considered human tissue, this creates a legal grey area.
Egg donation itself is not explicitly illegal, but there are no regulations specifying who can donate, how often, or what compensation is appropriate. As a result, many young women go through the process without proper counselling, medical support, or clear information.
With the growing number of private fertility clinics in Nigeria, there is a risk that assisted reproductive technology may become increasingly commodified where profit is prioritised over patient welfare.
In a country where poverty rates are high, women may be pressured into donating eggs for financial reasons, often without a full understanding of the medical risks involved.
Across Africa more broadly, poor regulation and lack of transparency in the fertility industry leave donors and recipients vulnerable to exploitation and unethical practices. The absence of a clear legal framework has sparked concerns around informed consent and donor protection.
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