For seven years, *Ismatu, 40, ran a thriving poultry business in the North. She raised chickens in batches and made about ₦500k every eight weeks. When her family decided to relocate to the South in 2024, she moved with them and her life savings: ₦2 million.
She thought she could restart the business anywhere. But she didn’t expect a wildly different market or everything she built to fall apart so fast.
As told to Aisha Bello
I built a poultry business in the North that paid for my children’s school fees, fed my family, and funded two master’s degrees. Then, I relocated to the South with ₦2 million to start over and lost it all.
I started poultry farming in 2013 with about 20 broiler birds, mainly for family consumption. At the time, I worked as an operations officer at an environmental and waste agency, where I earned ₦120,000/month. But I soon realised that raising birds wasn’t just sustainable, but also profitable.
Back then, day-old chicks cost ₦20 to ₦30, and a bag of feed went for ₦800. After six to eight weeks of feeding, medication, and care, I’d spend about ₦700 per bird and resell them between ₦1,000 and ₦1,200. That margin gave me my first real taste of business.
Still, I couldn’t grow it the way I wanted. My husband constantly complained about the foul smell and mess from the birds.
Our marriage was already strained, and things escalated into physical violence. One day, he beat me so severely that I fainted and ended up in the hospital. That was the final straw. In 2018, I divorced him and moved in with my mum and three children.
I also lost my job around that time. I had been transferred to a new office, but I was emotionally drained and grieving my marriage. I couldn’t cope, so I resigned.
After a few months of healing, I finally had the freedom to build my life on my own terms.
I invested ₦200,000 to build a big pen behind my mother’s house. By then, chicks cost ₦500. Raising one bird to maturity cost me about ₦8,000 in total. Depending on size and demand, I sold them between ₦11,000 and ₦13,000 each.
The pen could hold up to 150 birds per batch, and I’d raise them for 6–8 weeks.
Losses were normal — bird flu, weak chicks — but I never lost my capital, even though up to 25 birds died every cycle. Sometimes, I even had overlapping batches, raising one set while selling another.
I understood the market because I had lived in the North almost all my life. We lived in a predominantly Christian area, so Sundays were always good sales days. But my real advantage was selling wholesale. I built relationships with retailers and market sellers who came directly to my pen every cycle. They knew when to call and buy in bulk.
The model worked perfectly. I made an average of ₦500,000 profit every 8 weeks, and up to ₦750,000 during festive periods. I repeated this cycle four times a year, and that was my rhythm for the next seven years.
With the income, I paid school fees, fed my children, and returned to school. I already had an HND, so I completed a top-up programme to earn a bachelor’s degree in human resources. After that, I went on to earn a master’s in public administration, a postgraduate diploma in management, and eventually a Master of Philosophy in Leadership as preparation for a PhD.
Along the line, I got a job as an administrative officer at a private school, earning ₦80,000/month. Between the salary and the business, we were fine. My ex-husband never paid child support, but I didn’t need him. I could afford our life on my own.
Then, in 2024, everything changed.
My mother retired from her job as a secondary school principal and wanted to move back to our hometown in the South. We decided to relocate together. “Your business can work anywhere,” they said. It sounded logical at the time.
I had approximately ₦2 million in savings from my business, and was optimistic about replicating my success.
A few months into settling down, I built a new poultry pen. It cost ₦600,000. I spent another ₦100,000 on feed cans, drinkers, and water. A day-old chick now costs ₦1,950, and I stocked 150 birds for about ₦300,000. After adding medication, feeding, and logistics, I had invested ₦1.2 million into the business.
I cared for the birds as usual. The death toll wasn’t alarming, but sales barely moved. I couldn’t find any bulk buyers. Everyone around here wanted to buy one chicken at a time, and at bargain prices.
Eventually, I sold off that batch, but it took time, and the profit barely came together. It’s hard to reinvest with retail buyers because you don’t get your money in one chunk.
Still, I tried again, this time with 100 birds. But the outcome was worse. After 8 weeks, many birds remained unsold, eating more feed and piling on losses.
I was already running out of capital.
So, I paused the business and took a job as an admin officer at a private school, but they paid ₦36,000 and expected me to work as a kindergarten assistant. That couldn’t sustain me, so I quit.
I kept applying for admin roles, but what shocked me the most was how often I was told I was overqualified because of my degrees, and that they simply couldn’t afford to pay me what I was worth. I’ve been stuck in that loop ever since.
In October 2024, I decided to give poultry one last shot. December sales had always been my most profitable window in the North, and I hoped it would save the business.
With the last ₦400,000 I had, I bought 200 birds and went all in. By December, some had grown large enough to fetch ₦17,000 to ₦18,000 each. I hoped I could make at least ₦1 million and bounce back.
But that was the worst death toll I’d ever seen.
Nearly 50 of the biggest birds died. Sales were still stagnant. In the North, customers bought chickens into the New Year. Here, I didn’t even sell 100. What little money I recovered barely covered the cost of feed, and started eating into my capital.
I gave up.
I kept about 50 birds to prepare for my son’s graduation and haven’t returned to poultry since.
I’m currently living off support from my family. I’m still trying to get another admin job and keep my family afloat.
If I ever raise enough capital again, I’ll start another business, but not blindly. I’ll take my time to study the market here. If I ever return to poultry, it’ll be a smarter, better-informed comeback.
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