Apple’s latest flagship, the iPhone 17 Pro, is priced at $1,099 in the U.S. For many in Silicon Valley, this is a painful but manageable expense, equivalent to roughly a month’s wages for the average American worker. However, in West Africa, purchasing the same phone requires years of labour, highlighting both aspiration and inequality.
Take Nigeria, for example. With a newly approved national minimum wage of ₦70,000 per month (approximately $48), a salary earner would need to spend 23 months’ worth of wages (nearly two years of income) just to buy one iPhone 17 Pro. This calculation assumes that they have no expenses for rent, food, transport, or school fees, and that they are funnelling every single naira into the purchase of the phone.
The situation is only slightly better in other countries. In Ghana, where the minimum daily wage is GHS 19.97 (around $1.28), it would take two-and-a-half to three years of work to afford the base price of the iPhone. In Cameroon and Benin, where official monthly salaries range between $75 and $90, workers still need to sacrifice at least a year’s worth of wages for a single device.
The iPhone’s Symbolic Power in West Africa
Despite the high costs, you can find bustling grey markets in places like Computer Village in Lagos or Circle in Accra, where the iPhone is treated like a luxury item. When the iPhone 16 launched, social media was filled with posts showing that it sold for over ₦3 million (around $1,800) in Lagos.
These high prices are due to the devaluation of the naira, import markups, and the absence of official Apple stores in the area. That figure is more than 40 times Nigeria’s previous minimum wage. Buyers often camp out for the latest release, and sellers quickly run out of stock. For many, the iPhone is not merely a tool; it’s a public display of success.
“There’s pressure to be seen with it,” said a reseller based in Lagos, who told Innovation Village. “Even if you can’t afford it, people will find a way—through swapping, smuggling, paying in instalments, or even going into debt.”
This demand has fostered an entire underground economy. Phones are imported unofficially, marked up with duties, VAT, and risk premiums, leading to prices that can double Apple’s U.S. retail price. By the time an iPhone reaches the market in Nigeria or Ghana, the cost can easily rise to $1,800–$2,000.
The Market Apple Leaves Behind
One part of the issue is structural. Apple does not have any corporate-owned retail stores in West Africa. Instead, its distribution relies on independent importers and a variety of authorised resellers, such as iStore and Mac Centre in Lagos and Abuja. Each step in this distribution chain adds costs, which are further amplified by volatile exchange rates and inflation.
In contrast, local competitors, primarily Chinese brands like Tecno, Infinix, and Xiaomi, have found great success by offering smartphones at a fraction of the price of an iPhone. These alternatives come equipped with competitive cameras, batteries, and stylish designs, making them accessible choices for the average consumer without feelings of embarrassment.
Nonetheless, the iPhone maintains its status as the aspirational device. Owning one is a way to signal a sense of global connection, and upgrading early conveys financial strength. The significant affordability gap only intensifies this symbolic value.
When a Phone Costs More Than Survival
The stark numbers tell a deeper story: inequality. In June 2025, the World Bank updated its poverty lines to reflect new global data. For low-income countries, the threshold now sits at $3.00 per day (2021 PPP terms), while Nigeria’s new wage converts to roughly $1.60 per day, which is well below even the revised minimum. By this measure, millions of Nigerian workers are surviving beneath the extreme poverty line.
Within this context, the iPhone 17 Pro is not just expensive; it exists in another economic universe altogether. Yet demand remains strong. On launch days in Lagos or Accra, people line up and waiting lists form. In these markets, the iPhone has never been solely about utility; it represents visibility, aspiration, and—sometimes—a perceived ticket out of invisibility.
A Pocket-Sized Dream, Out of Reach
In the U.S., purchasing an iPhone is a choice based on upgrades. In West Africa, however, it represents a two-year bet against wages that barely cover basic needs. This tension between desire and affordability, between aspiration and reality, fuels both the iPhone’s allure and the informal economies that facilitate its movement across borders.
For now, the iPhone 17 Pro will remain what it has always been in the region: a pocket-sized dream, priced well out of reach, yet still actively pursued.
