Few days ago, the University of Ibadan silently raised an alarm, one that opens a worm of growing, uncomfortable truth on many Nigerian campuses. A memo signed by the school’s Director of the University Health Service, Dr. Aderonke Ajayi, warned of a troubling trend, an increasing number of female students turning to egg donation as a source of income. Yes, you read that right. Egg donation, the process of medically stimulating the ovaries to produce eggs for In-Vitro Fertilisation (IVF), it’s slowly becoming what some students consider a side hustle. However, while the financial rewards might seem quite “tempting”, the dangers that lie beneath are far from small change.
Yet we ask, why are UI students doing this? Let’s not pretend, being a student in Nigeria, especially at a federal university like UI, might be quite overwhelming. The cost of living is unbearable, scholarships are scarce, and side gigs that pay well are harder to come by. Hence, when an opportunity comes, one that promises tens or even hundreds of thousands of naira for a single donation, it’s hard to say no for these vulnerable students. It’s quite sad that some are recruited directly by agents, while others hear about it from friends. And for those who are desperate to pay rent, sort school fees, feed their lifestyles or even survive, it starts to sound like a miracle in disguise. But is it?
Sadly, according to Dr. Ajayi, the procedure isn’t as easy or secure as it may seem. Egg donation involves hormonal medications that overstimulate the ovaries to release multiple eggs. Short-term side effects might include abdominal pain, bloating, breast tenderness, mood swings, and a potentially life-threatening condition called Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (OHSS). Pathetically, there also come the more serious risks as the internal bleeding, infection, ovarian torsion (where the ovary twists), and even damage to nearby organs. Again, there’s also the emotional toll, anxiety, regret, and trauma that may never be heard anywhere. And perhaps most dismaying, there’s still no full understanding of the long-term risks, particularly for girls who donate repeatedly or in unregulated environments. Fertility loss is not a theoretical concern, it’s a documented possibility.
Today, infertility is a global health issue. According to the World Health Organisation, one in six people (17.5%) are affected globally. The Director-General of WHO, Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, even once said, “Infertility does not discriminate.” In Nigeria, despite having one of the highest fertility rates in the world, the growing cases of infertility have ignited a desperate search for solutions. From Lagos to Port Harcourt, baby factories flourish, and fertility clinics rake in profits. Now unfortunately, this desperation has led to all sorts of abuses, including the today’s commodification of young women’s eggs.
While the obvious developed countries operate under strict regulations and donate eggs without monetary exchange, in Nigeria, stories abound of girls selling their eggs for as little as N20,000 to N50,000 and even N80,000. Even sometimes, even minors are forced into this dirty pit. Investigative reports have unfurled that some girls are forced or misled into donation, with threats to their lives if they try to speak out.
For instance, last year 2024, a filmmaker, Ogeh Cynthia, claimed in a media interview that fertility clinics in Nigeria now actively recruit young girls with the promise of quick cash. In another story reported by the Vanguard Newspapers, a 20-year-old named Celine described the process as “scary and painful”, but still did it twice. “The money compensates for the discomfort,” she said. Even more annoying, is the popular story of another Precious Ikechukwu and Theresa Obam, aged 19 and 17, who alleged they were taken to a clinic without informed consent and threatened with death if they told anyone. How terrible !
Now, let’s pause and ask the difficult questions. Why are young girls or these Ibadan students being made to feel like their bodies are commodities? Why does the system place them in such financial distress that risking their reproductive health becomes a viable option? And again, where are the policies, the securities, and the accountability that should protect them? I believe, this isn’t just about medicine or money. It’s about exploitation masquerading as “opportunity”. It’s about a generation of vulnerable young women being pushed, often quietly, into life-altering decisions for short-term survival.
Let’s agree that the current legal framework is alarmingly not enough. While Section 53 of the 2014 National Health Act criminalises the sale of human tissue for money, there is no all inclusive regulation specifically governing egg donation. This legal grey area has allowed the practice to grow unchecked and largely in secrecy.
A few months ago, the House of Representatives directed an investigation into the activities of fertility clinics following a motion moved by Honourable Babajimi Benson. The lawmaker pointed out that some desperate Nigerian women were selling their eggs for as little as N100,000 and blamed poor regulation for the exploitation.
Now, I’m not a medical expert, but I’ve read statements from fertility specialists who maintain that while egg donation isn’t illegal, it must be handled with care. Many say the process can be life-changing for recipients, but it comes with strict ethical boundaries, donations should not exceed three times in a lifetime, and donors must be closely monitored medically throughout the process. Yet in reality, many clinics bypass these delicate ethical guidelines. With no oversight from any agency, there’s little stopping a clinic from pushing a young woman to donate multiple times, even monthly, despite the health risks.
So what are the conversations we need to have? I know It’s easy to blame the agents, the clinics, or even the students and other girls themselves. But the real problem is structural. When education is underfunded and support systems are weak, students are left to fend for themselves. Won’t they?
We must talk about sexual and reproductive health education and how informed are students before they say yes? Also Health regulation, are clinics following proper medical guidelines?what about consent and pressure, are students being forced or misled? Let’s not forget economic vulnerability, what real alternatives are available to these young women?
Finally, If nothing changes, what does the future look like? Will we normalise a system where students trade their health for survival? Will we accept a world where young women are financially forced into medical risks, while the rest of society looks away? Or will this be the wake-up call, the uncomfortable truth that forces universities, governments, NGOs, and society at large to step in, speak up, and create ethical boundaries?
At the base of this issue is a simple truth, desperation should never be the gateway to danger. We owe it to our students, our future mothers, leaders, and changemakers to ensure that their dignity, health, and well-being are not sacrificed in the name of survival. We need to talk, the future is listening.
Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun writes for Oyo Affairs
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