In every university, hostels are more than buildings; they are living environments powered by the stories of those who call them home. In the University of Lagos, hostel life has become a defining chapter for thousands of undergraduates. But as each day unfolds, one question becomes louder than the morning bathroom queue: “Is hostel life in UNILAG a struggle or a survival story?”
The struggle begins long before any student drags his “Ghana Must Go” into the hostel. It starts online, during the famous balloting process. With far more students than available spaces, getting a bedspace feels like winning a national lottery. For many, not getting a bed space sets the tone for the year – search for apartments, squatting arrangements, or even illegal bed space acquisition.
A set of people to be questioned are those that apply for hostel accommodation without needing it and end up selling the bed space for outrageous prices. The odds aren’t in anyone’s favor, perhaps they are, but the desperate hope remains: “Maybe this year, I’ll get a bed space.”
For students who eventually get a space, entering the hostels reveals a reality much harsher than expected. From Moremi to Makama, Jaja to Kofo, the stories echo. Water runs at a certain time, power supply flickers unpredictably, and maintenance issues linger longer than students’ complaints. Fans rattle like generators and to some hostels, having a fan seems like a myth. Sockets hang from walls and bathrooms have queues like banking halls. Yet, every morning, life continues. Students adjust, tolerate and endure because survival is not optional.
Cleanliness is a collective responsibility, but in overcrowded spaces, responsibility often dissolves into frustration. Toilets and bathrooms struggle to keep up with the population of their users. Mosquitoes, rats and bedbugs (the terrors) become unwanted roommates. Heat becomes an unregistered course that must be taken every night. With these conditions comes silent health battles: fatigue, infections, and mental stress that students rarely speak about.
Even in this struggle, some students create their own comfort : scented candles, room sprays, tiny decorations – small victories in a larger battle.
Safety, though present in few hostels, still remain uncertain. Security within UNILAG hostels is inconsistent – sometimes reliable, sometimes questionable. There are porters who genuinely care and others who are simply gatekeepers of rules. Theft remains a recurring concern -phones, pots, hot plates, buckets and even food items vanish with no pity. Students are forced to learn to protect everything: padlocks for lockers and locks for bags and boxes.
The common kitchen is a battleground to be studied. From bad sockets, long queues and unbearable heat to missing hotplates and the occasional mysteriously disappearing food items, the drama never ends. Some floors that house over thirty students have one kitchen with only two sockets working. Many students give up on cooking and resort to food vendors against their wishes. Saving time but draining their pockets. Cooking becomes a luxury; survival becomes default.
In the midst of these, academics still find a way to push through. For students in UNILAG hostels, reading in the hostels require great discipline . Noise, arguments, laughter, loud music that can make ones’ ear bleed, late-night gist and banter are all inevitable. Still, students create spaces within the chaos: corridor reading groups, night classes, and groups of friends proofreading assignments on a single flickering bulb.
The struggle here teaches one an important lesson: discipline thrives when comfort is scarce.
Despite the stress, hostel life still births its own informal economy. Students become entrepreneurs out of necessity- hairdressers and barbers in corners, makeup artists operating from bunk to bunk, food vendors selling quick meals (puff puff, moimoi, akara, toast bread, pap, sweets and candies), laundry doers, plug dealers, assignment “helpers” and many more. Anyway, survival fuels creativity, and creativity fuels community. In these hostels, everyone is both a customer and a hustler.
Behind the laughter, tweets, and TikToks, hostel life takes an emotional and mental toll that is rarely discussed. Balloting issues, bullies incrowded rooms, overwhelm from constant noise, stress from basic necessities becoming daily battles, for most students, make the hostel feel like a training camp for endurance. For others, it feels like a slow drain of energy. Still, no one leaves unchanged.
Amid the struggle, there is a softer side to hostel life – a warmth that makes itbmemorable. Late-night conversations that turn strangers into family, shared meals cooked in stress but eaten in love, hostel events and trade fairs, laughter on the corridors and staircases, birthday celebrations, andcollective battles against PHCN and hostel porters. The sense of community is real, and sometimes, that makes it all worth it.
The real tragedy is that many of these problems are avoidable, can be fixed and would disappear if there is transparency, accountability, and genuine attention to student welfare.Perhaps, the chaos of hostel balloting could be eased by organizing it department by department or level by level, assigning each group specific hours to carry out theprocess.
In the end, hostels go beyond just providing accommodation; they play significant roles in shaping students’ personalities, independence and lifelong connections.
Hostel life in UNILAG is both a struggle and a survival story – two sides of the same coin. While it challenges students physically, mentally, and emotionally, it still teaches resilience, adaptability, and the art of finding joy even in discomfort.
The beauty of this chaos is that students still rise above them, creating memories and relationships that outlive the walls that held them.
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