For privacy reasons, the two ladies are identified by their first names and their faces covered.
Precious needed money to pay for a language academy course. An agent facilitated how she could be an egg donor in return for cash. She did and got paid but subsequently coughed up more than her egg donation earning to treat herself.
A debt of N50,000 hung on Deborah’s neck and she had been struggling to offset it. A struggling petty trader, her income from petty trading at Oshodi public parks could scarcely bail her out. She followed a friend to donate her eggs. Her health then started failing and she spent almost 70% of her egg donation payment on medical bills at another hospital.
Precious was 21 when a strange number reached out on WhatsApp, selling the idea of how to make quick money to her: sell her eggs and get N150,000 in two weeks. It turned out that the message was from a certain Peace Eshiet who claimed to be resident in Ondo State.
Eshiet messaged Precious at a time she desperately needed to pay for her language academy course in Lagos.
“I quickly welcomed the idea,” Precious told FIJ in March.
Precious was not living in Ondo and the list of clinics provided by Eshiet were all in Lagos. Eshiet then redirected the 21-year-old to Oluwatobilola Oyesanya, another egg donor recruiter within Lagos.
Oyesanya and Precious connected and started texting.
READ ALSO: Black Market for Fertility Egg Donation is Expanding in Nigeria but No Law in View Against Abuse
“Peace Eshiet said she linked up with me through a mutual WhatsApp group. I never knew about any such group. However, because I needed money and was already interested in the package, I did not probe her further,” Precious admitted.
“Tobi Oyesanya then sent a chat to me like ‘donor or surrogacy’ on February 13, and I chose ‘donor’. She then sent me a form to fill out my name, age, weight, blood group and others, and to attach my picture to it. She gave me a list of fertility hospital addresses to choose the one closest to me. She had an affiliation with these clinics.”
Precious selected St. Ives Specialist Hospital, a fertility and family healthcare provider located in a residential neighbourhood on 12 Salvation Road, Opebi in Ikeja. It serves as a branch and the head office of the St. Ives Hospital Group owned by Wale Babatunde Okewale, a member of the British Fertility Society, according to his LinkedIn profile.
TARGETING YOUNG WOMEN WITH SCANT KNOWLEDGE
Its website lists Deputy Group Medical Director Kingsley Obodo as the head of the clinic. According to Obodo, St. Ives offers “a wide range of medical services, including advanced fertility treatments, comprehensive women’s health services, and general medical care”. What he left unmentioned was how the hospital procures eggs for its fertility services.
Nigeria’s booming assisted reproductive health industry is largely uncontrolled, but its operators are coordinated. Fertility clinics springing across the country’s cities are targeting women within the age range of 18 to 35, including tertiary school students, vast majority of whom are from economically disadvantaged homes with scant or no knowledge of the merits and demerits of the surgery. The details of these transactions are usually secret, but nothing stays secret forever.
Even academic institutions are concerned about this alarming trend. The University of Ibadan (UI) recently warned its students to steer clear of egg donation. According to G.O. Saliu, the university registrar, the long-term effects reported by egg donors included loss of fertility, aggressive breast cancer and fatal colon cancer.
WARNING FROM UI: EGG DONATION IS POTENTIALLY RISKY
“Egg donation has potential risks in the short term, which include abdominal pain, breast tenderness, bloating and mood swings. These are side effects of the medications used to stimulate the ovaries that produce the eggs. Other possible effects are Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome (OHSS), infection, bleeding, ovarian torsion and possible injury to the bladder, nearby blood vessels, bowel and also psychological stress,” Saliu stated in an April 18 public statement.
Federal authorities are acutely aware of this unchecked scourge. For instance, the House of Representatives has passed resolutions twice to address this phenomenon. First, in response to a motion by Babajimi Benson from Lagos, it asked the committee on health institutions in September of 2023 to investigate the trend and proffer appropriate recommendations. In its second and the most recent effort, the federal legislature was encouraged by a motion by Rep Kwamoti Bitrus Laori from Adamawa to undertake another investigation.
Amos Gwamna Magaji, the health committee chairman, did not respond to requests for comment via text and WhatsApp messages as well as calls by FIJ through his publicly available phone number. He also did not respond to an email sent on July 18.
There is currently no specific law regulating the industry in terms of the ethical methods of seeking donors, how they are to be compensated and treated, and under what terms and conditions. While the National Health Act in Section 53 criminalises trade in human cells and allows reasonable compensation for donors, it fails to define the responsibilities of health institutions to the donors.
(1) It is an offence for a person:
(a) who has donated tissue, blood or a blood product to receive any form of financial or other reward for such donation, except for the reimbursement of reasonable costs incurred by him or her to provide such donation; and
(b) to sell or trade in tissue, blood, blood products except for reasonable payments made in appropriate health establishment for the procurement of tissues, blood or blood products.
(2) A person who contravenes under subsection (l) of this section commits an offence and is liable on conviction to a fine of N100,000 or to imprisonment for a period not exceeding one year or to both.
While specific public data on the number of fertility clinics available in Lagos is difficult to come by, OVU Global Fertility Network, a fertility and surrogacy matching platform, listed 58 centres on its website.
Exploitative fertility clinics are spread across the country and St. Ives is one of them, making a killing from this opaque egg donation system without checks at the expense of the vulnerable women producing the oocytes. It is unclear what specific terms guide its affiliations with these agents. What is clear, however, is that this affiliation is backed by monetary rewards.
St. Ives could be classified as an elite hospital with branches in multiple locations. Its client profile includes expatriates and middle-class Nigerians. Nigerians in the diaspora also turn to it for medical services, going by its Google Reviews. While it provides other services, it is reputed for its in vitro fertilisation (IVF) services, which benefit its affluent patients.
The clinic did not respond to a request for comments. FIJ first phoned St. Ives on July 25, and Esther, a customer care agent, provided an email address to which an enquiry could be sent. Straightaway, FIJ emailed a list of questions to that address, copying an email address listed on the clinic’s website, but it was not responded to. On July 29, FIJ called again and the same agent responded, providing another email address. FIJ immediately sent the same questions earlier sent on July 25. She promised to inform the right unit about the email but no response was received at press time.
This investigation documents the experiences of Precious and Deborah, two female donors whose health broke down immediately when the hospital collected their reproductive eggs. FIJ interviewed Precious in the presence of older adult members of her family.
Deborah was another donor who went through the same procedure as Precious on the same day. Deborah, 29, is married with two kids, but her husband had no knowledge she underwent the procedure to raise some funds.
FIJ interviewed Deborah in Lagos’s bustling Oshodi market.
THE ONSET OF OVARIAN STIMULATION
Having collected Precious’ information, Oyesanya passed it on to Oluwaseun Akindeinde, a woman trading under Gracious Surrogacy Consultant, a business name registered with the Corporate Affairs Commission on May 29, 2024. Many know her as “Gracious”.
“I was supposed to go there while menstruating,” said Precious.
Oyesanya had asked her to contact Gracious. From Gracious, she got the directions to the clinic. When she arrived at the health facility on February 24, she asked to see Gracious because she had the impression that the agent was working there, but she was nowhere to be seen. She contacted her and was told to look for nurse Amarachi.
Although Precious never met Gracious in person, she assumed she was a nurse at the hospital. Finally, she met Amarachi and Azuka Rosemary there; they told her to sit in a room. Subsequently, she underwent her documentation orally. Beyond telling Amarachi that she was 21, the hospital did not verify her actual age using her birth certificate or any other authoritative document. She said the staff said she looked younger than 21, but she maintained that she was 21 and they proceeded to document her on their computer.
Asked whether she was given any attendance book to register her visits at the hospital, Precious responded in the negative, saying she would only walk in, go through any procedure the health workers prescribed and leave.
“There were a lot of staff there and it was not just only me they were attending to. There were other donors too being attended to. Amarachi told us to wait for her in a room and she came to give us injections,” Precious recounted to FIJ.
“We took the first injection in her presence and others were to be taken at home. I took the injections every day for the first seven days. After the first week, I returned for some scans and they gave me a different set of pen injections to be taken at home for like four days. I then returned again and they provided another type of injection. In total, I took the drugs and injections for two weeks.”
A video of the self-administered hormone injections St. Ives gave Precious. She took injection subcutaneously, that is by inserting the needle into her stomach skin.
In the second week of March, Precious became due for transvirginal egg retrieval at the clinic. Following the instructions she had received, she did not take any food in the morning and headed to the 28-year-old St. Ives Specialist Hospital.
NO EGGS FOUND, BACKDOOR PAYMENT
“I met three other ladies waiting to have their eggs harvested,” she told FIJ.
“The health centre looks small on the outside but big on the inside. Since I complained of pain, they decided to harvest mine first. We walked on a staircase past some wards and offices until we reached an operating room where they asked me to lie down. They gave me an injection that made me sleep for like 30 minutes. Three female nurses and a male doctor handled the retrieval.”
She woke up after being sedated, but not feeling good. She lay down for two hours and when she woke up, the embryologists told her “nothing” was found in her uterine tubes. “There was a particular injection they gave me to self-administer. I self-administered it but they said it did not work on me,” she said.
Regardless of the claim that no eggs were found in her fallopian tubes, the clinic paid her N150,000, an amount they would normally pay for buying eggs from vulnerable women. The payment was made by an individual named Kenneth Chimechefulam Nwankwo on March 11 as indicated on a transfer receipt obtained by FIJ. The clinic did not conduct the financial transaction in its corporate name and identity.
“They said it was supposed to be N170,000 but because I came through an agent, they had to remove N20,000 to settle the agents,” Precious said.
‘NOT WORTH THE RISK’
Both Precious and Deborah went through the same process. But unlike Precious, Deborah was introduced to the procedure by a friend who had donated her eggs three times, meaning she had three more attempts to exhaust the maximum of six times recommended by the American Society for Reproductive Medicine.
“I received N170,000 through my elder brother’s account I submitted at the hospital. I donated out of my desperation to offset a debt of N50,000 to someone. So, my friend told me about how she occasionally donated her eggs anytime she needed money and how I could do the same,” Deborah told FIJ on April 24.
The amount is not worth the risk, said the 28-year-old. “I am never going to do it again.”
On July 16 when FIJ spoke to Akindeinde as a potential client, she said surrogacy costs N6 million, excluding a surrogate mother’s charges, and N2.7 million for IVF if the patient is using a donor’s eggs. Notably, both figures do not include extra medical expenses, which could also run into millions.
Precious’s N150,000 represents 5.6% of an IVF patient’s payment to the clinic, and Deborah’s N170,000 represents 6.2%.
The international dimension of it all suggests a multibillion naira industry. Hospitals sometimes export eggs collected in Nigeria to countries in Europe, Asia or America. However, there is no public data on the size of the industry and the number of annual donors.
“Sometimes, the hospitals export them to European, Asian or American countries. You find out that our young girls, rather than do menial jobs, will look at this as an easier way out. Assisted reproductive techniques are good but exploiting the donors is what we frown at,” said Rep Benson in an interview with Premium Times.
THE HUSTLE FOR COMMISSION
Deborah received a full package of N170,000 because she had no agent. For Precious, her agents were on her neck to collect their own cuts. Eshiet particularly disturbed her that she had to pay her N10,000, even though the egg buyer had already deducted N20,000 as a remittance to her agents.
Precious told FIJ that Oyesanya did not ask for any cut. “The lady from Ondo kept disturbing me to send her commission,” she said. “It seems Oyesanya did not give her anything from the N20,000 deduction.”
Precious did not grant Eshiet’s request; eventually, Eshiet stopped messaging and phoning her.
On July 17, when FIJ contacted Eshiet, she declined to respond to the specific questions sent to her on WhatsApp.
“What is bringing this up? What is going on?” she wondered. “Did anything happen to her because she did not pay me the commission she owes me? Talk to the hospital. They will tell you everything you need to know.”
PAID N150,000 BUT TREATED HERSELF WITH N300,000
The post-harvesting experiences of the two donors may not have been the same, but both incurred extra costs treating different health problems.
“The next two days that followed were brutally painful for me,” Precious recalled.
“My stomach was swelling painfully and I could neither eat nor sleep well. Although they gave me some medicines to relieve the pain, it never made me feel better.”
The pain became unbearable for Precious, inevitably leaving her with only one option: to tell her aunt what she had done.
“Before telling my aunt, I was taking the medicines but was not getting any better. So, I was drinking warm water as Gracious asked me to do. Instead my urine was soapy as though I was pregnant,” she said. “Then Gracious advised me to drink herbal medicines after completing the medicines that St. Ives gave me.”
Precious was not relieved until her aunt took her to WestCare Specialist Hospital, Egbeda, Lagos, where she was hospitalised for five days. She was discharged on the sixth day with a total bill of N300,000.
“Westcare said the problem was caused because of the force used in harvesting the eggs from me,” she said, an account that was corroborated by her aunt.
On FIJ’s request, her aunt had visited WestCare three times to obtain Precious’s medical report. But each time, the hospital said the right doctor to issue it was unavailable. At press time, the report was stil unavailable.
EXCESSIVE BLEEDING FOR DEBORAH
Months after Deborah had donated, she was still nursing the after-effects. On the day she spoke to FIJ, she wrapped extra Ankara clothing on her jean trousers. Many market women usually wear extra layer wrapper on their cloth primarily because of stains and dirt and it was easy to assume that was the same case for Deborah on the evening of Thursday, April 24.
“Look at this wrapper, I tied it because of blood. I use a pad. But both the pad and my jean trousers are not enough to prevent leakage,” Deborah said with a tone of self-blame.
“I spent almost all the money to treat myself. After the egg retrieval, I began to experience excessive bleeding. It has not stopped till date,” Deborah said. “I spent a week at a general hospital and incurred a N100,000 bill. I have not recovered till date. It started with a stomach ache.”
According to Deborah, the March donation made it the third time her friend would donate her eggs for money but she did not experience any negative reaction.
Attempts to reach her friend proved abortive. In fact, her friend discouraged her from speaking to FIJ.
NO FOLLOW-UP CARE
When asked whether the hospital enlightened them about the associated risks before the donation, both women, separately answered ion the negative.
“They just said ‘you will take a series of injections and after that, come for your retrieval and get paid’. They even told us to come after three months to donate and get paid again.”
In the Rules of Professional for Medical and Dental Practitioners‘ Section 23 (a), egg donation should be done ethically done and fertility centres have a duty to counsel donors in respect of, among others, “informed consent to resolve social, psychological and legal uncertainties”.
“Informed consent” as a concept enshrined in Section 23 (1) and (2) of the National Health Act broadly means that:
23.(1) Every health care provider shall give a user relevant information pertaining to his state of health and necessary treatment relating to-
(a) the user’s health status except in circumstances where there is substantial evidence that the disclosure of the user’s health status would be contrary to the best interests of the user;
(b) the range of diagnostic procedures and treatment options generally available to the user;
(c) the benefits, risks, costs and consequences generally associated with each option; and
(d) the user’s right to refuse health services and explain the implications. risks or obligations of such refusal.
(2) The health care provider concerned shall, where possible, inform the user in a language that the user understands and in a manner which takes into account the user’s level of literacy.
But that regulation was violated in the context of these two ladies.
Additionally, St. Ives provided no aftercare for or check up on them after the minimally invasive procedure and because these ladies believed the hospital had paid for their eggs, they could not return to lodge any complaint.
The relationship between them and the egg collection centre practically ended immediately their eggs cells were retrieved. They felt discarded and dismissed. There was no follow-up call to ensure they were well. Anyway, they are not alone. Some high-paying patients had had similar complaints.
For example, Cynthia Duru, a fertility patient who gave feedback on Google Maps, said she felt “disregarded” because the clinic provided no aftercare to her after leaving the hospital.
“I came to the clinic for a complete fertility evaluation — a deeply personal and sensitive journey — and expected a certain standard of professionalism and care, especially as a fully self-funded patient. While I was given a list of necessary tests, some of which had to be done externally and out-of-pocket (which I accepted), what disappointed me most was the lack of follow-up and continuity of care after these tests were completed. There was little to no effort to engage, guide or support me through the next steps, which left me feeling disregarded and alone in the process,” Duru wrote.
“What’s even more concerning is the dismissive and unprofessional attitude of some of the front desk staff. Receptionists are often a patient’s first point of contact, and their indifference or rudeness only adds to the emotional toll patients are already carrying. This is not just a service; these are people’s lives, emotions and futures. Compassion and attentiveness should never be optional in fertility care.”
‘PRECIOUS IS NOT A BABY
Aside from the hospital, three agents were involved in this matter: Oyesanya, Eshiet and Akindeinde. Eshiet’s response has been mentioned in the earlier part of this story.
On July 25, Oyesanya insisted she was not luring people to donate. She also confirmed that Precious was referred to her by Eshiet.
“We do not enter anyone’s DMs [direct message inbox] uninvited,” she said.
“Kindly ask Precious [to tell you] who initiated the conversation. Our process is simple: we make posts, and interested individuals reach out on their own. Those who are eligible undergo free scans and tests at the hospital, and if they’re medically fit, they fill out consent forms before any procedure is conducted. Participation is voluntary, and anyone is free to opt out in line with the hospital’s legal protocols.”
While reiterating that the process was legal, Oyesanya claimed that St. Ives was not “under my management”.
“Despite that, I followed up with her after the procedure to check on her well-being,” she continued. “Please also note that the correct term is retrieval, not harvesting.”
She declined to produce any such consent form signed by Precious. Instead, she asked FIJ to contact the clinic.
She also said that hospitals allowed free post-retrieval treatments. But she declined to respond to a question about whether she ever told Precious about this before she donated.
“It was only later that her referral agent told me she had reportedly fallen ill and was taken to a hospital. However, Precious never reached out to the clinic or reported any post-retrieval complaints,” she said.
“Hospitals allow free post-procedure medical checkups if complications arise from the retrieval, which, I must note, is very rare. Despite this not being my hospital, I still checked up on her out of courtesy, and she confirmed she had recovered.”
Between March and June, FIJ followed Oyesanya’s Facebook activities. And in July, it was discovered that her account was no longer active. When asked why, she said she “was logged out due to technical issues and has been unable to regain access”.
Reluctantly responding to FIJ on WhatsApp on July 19, Akindeinde confirmed knowing Oyesanya but denied knowing Eshiet.
Like Oyesanya, Akindeinde claimed that “egg donation is not a crime because the donor involved willingly showed interest in doing it and that was why a consent form was given [her] to sign”.
“If she was sick at the process or after, why didn’t she call me? Or she might have the nurse number to call. I repeat that Precious is not a baby,” she added.
‘CASHING OUT BY EXPLOITING LITTLE GIRLS
The loose operations of this sinister enterprise enable the exploitation of underaged girls, many of who are from poor families struggling to eke a living. Many times, they are enticed by money by mostly adult women online and offline.
Oyesanya appeared to be recruiting donors for a clinic in Ikorodu. In March, she had “a little girl” who wanted to donate her eggs at the hospital but had nowhere to stay for the duration of the procedure. The girl probably wanted to stay away from home because of her parents.
On March 23, Oyesanya posted on her Facebook looking for someone to house the girl either “for a token” or “for free”.
“Good day fam! Pls, is there anyone at Ikorodu garage or it’s (sic) environs that can accommodate an egg donor,” Oyesanya posted on a group named Joyful Journeys Surrogacy Consultant. Her Facebook history showed she also into skill acquisition training as well as operating a basic education school named TOBOL Montessori Nursery, Primary and Secondary located in Ikotun.
A Facebook user named Benson Bella then asked, ” For free or for a token?” In response, Oyesanya said it could be iether, revealing that the donor was “just a little girl”.
Oyesanya’s response to Bella: For a token and if you can do it for free, the person will be grateful. She’s just a little girl trying to get small money for herself. Are you living there?
When posting on Facebook, donor recruiters do not mention clinic’s names but their locations, a price tag, blood groups and genotype requirements. Sometimes, they say no agency fee will be required. Like in the case of Precious, what they fail to say is that the clinic would deduct their commission from the money due to the donor, ultimately helping them to “cash out”.
READ ALSO: The Thing Inside Your Belly: A Woman’s 4-Year ‘Pregnancy’ Exposes a Crime Ring in Eastern Nigeria
While case studies abound on Facebook, it is important to reference Oyesanya’s February 24 post below
Donors needed: Lekki, 20-25 years; Ikoyi, 21-27 years; Ikeja, 21-27 years; Ogba, 21-25 years (your result for blood group and genotype must be at hand); Omole, 20-27 years (fair donors alone); Surulere, 20-27 years (light and dark-skinned. Agent fee applies); Festac, negative blood group, AA. Agent fee applies.
DM me for the one that you are eligible for. If you are within 30-35 years and you have small stature, you can use my Omole, Gbagada or Agege hospital. Dm me, let’s run things together and cash out.
METHOD CHANGE
Oyesanya slightly changed her methods in February, asking her fellow agents to stop posting payment plans. “Just make a post stating the location and other things. Anyone that wants to see the plan should dm you,” she said.
These clinics pay surrogate mothers, who typically deliver through caesarean section, get paid peanuts for carrying babies for intending parents.
On July 30, Akindeinde indicated in a payment schedule she posted on her public Facebook group that a surrogate mother would receive N1,500,000 upon delivery, which is 25% of the lump sum she had told FIJ that an intending parent would pay to the clinic.
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