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The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.

Iliyasu (52) spent four years in Sri Lanka getting his doctorate before returning to Nigeria in 2018. In this story, he talks about the initial culture shocks, the best and worst parts of life on the island and why he was reluctant to leave his new home when it was time to return to Nigeria.

Where do you currently live, and when did you leave Nigeria?

I moved to Sri Lanka in 2014, but I currently live in Taraba, Nigeria.

You’re back in Nigeria?

Yes. I travelled to study for a doctorate. After my studies, I returned to Nigeria in 2018.

Was that the first time you had left the country?

Yes, that was my first time leaving Nigeria.

What inspired you to make that move?

I wanted to have my doctoral studies outside Nigeria, so I explored foreign study opportunities. I even got accepted and was on the waiting list to study at the University of Zululand in South Africa. But then, I also had an option to leave for Sri Lanka because my dean, with whom I had worked earlier at the university where I taught, was from Sri Lanka. That was how I got that move.

What were you up to before you left Nigeria?

I was a lecturer. Before that, I had been in the private sector working for a supply chain company that dealt in petroleum products between 2003 and 2007. But I had this feeling that I wanted to teach. I had more money in the private sector and what you could call a more comfortable life. But it was this passion for teaching that drove me to leave that life to become a lecturer.

South Africa and Sri Lanka are sort of odd choices for Nigerians. It’s usually the UK and the US. Why were these the places you considered?

You know, they say a bird in hand is worth more than ten in the bush. In making these decisions, there’s a lot one has to consider. Also, having contacts in these countries played a big part in my decision. In South Africa, I had someone there who was already doing some groundwork to help me settle on arrival. It was similar for Sri Lanka. I was introduced to the opportunity through the dean I told you about. Having that contact was important to me.

Did you plan to move permanently, or did you always have the aim of returning to Nigeria?

No, I wasn’t. It probably has something to do with my background being from the north. There’s less of a desire for immigration amongst northerners than there is in the southern parts of the country. At least that’s been my experience. All my colleagues who went abroad, even to the United Kingdom and the United States, came back. Those who stayed abroad permanently weren’t northerners.

So I wasn’t excited about moving permanently. I just wanted to experience life outside the country and then come back. It might also be because at that time in 2014, Nigeria was not as bad as it is now.

So you feel differently now?

I do to a large extent. When I started this job, I basically started from the bottom as a graduate assistant and worked my way up. But even at the start, I didn’t struggle financially. But now, even as a professor, I struggle financially. I think that shows how things have changed over time. The Nigerian dream seems to be a nightmare now due to the decline in economic power. I was much better off then as a junior staff member than I am now.

Wow. Let’s talk about Sri Lanka. What was it like?

I was like a newborn child getting to Sri Lanka. I felt that based on my background, I would settle easily because I was used to moving. Having moved from Lagos where I was born and spent my early years to the North where I went to secondary school, university, and eventually married, I was used to making friends quickly and making myself feel at home in new environments.

I had also read about Sri Lanka before getting there, and my dean and his wife told me a lot of stories. But hearing stories is not the same as being in the story yourself.

I immediately got my first culture shock at the airport. I forgot I read that they don’t drive on the same side as in Nigeria. So I put my luggage in the airport taxi, rushed to open the front door, and found a steering wheel staring at me.

There was a bit of a fear factor for me as a newcomer. But there were fellow Nigerian students on the ground, and the University of Colombo really tried to make me comfortable, so that really helped me overcome any fear and settle in.

I think I got used to the country after one year. By the time I was leaving in 2018, I wanted to stay longer. I had found community in church and among my Sri Lankan colleagues. My doctoral class had about fifty of us or more, with some foreigners and then local Sri Lankans. These were relationships I had built over time that made me feel very much at home in Sri Lanka.

You mentioned being married. Did your wife go with you?

I went alone. My wife was on a programme at the time. It was at a point where she couldn’t leave. Apart from that, we were constrained financially to cover ourselves and the kids, because we had four of them. So it was cost-effective for me to go alone and always connect through calls. I also visited Nigeria every year until I returned, except for 2017.

Was that difficult for both of you?

It must have been hard for her, running around alone with the kids. But we went through it, and it was something we found ways to manage. It was difficult, but I think it was worth it.

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What was life like for you in Sri Lanka?

Well, there was a bit of a language barrier. Sri Lankans speak Sinhala, and it’s the only country where that language is spoken. The second language they have is Tamil. But it’s a Commonwealth country, so quite a number of them speak English.

What’s actually shocking is that it’s the older people in the country who are more likely to be English speakers. A lot of the younger ones typically only speak Sinhala. I learned that it was due to an old policy decision to make Sinhala the only language in the country.

For food, they eat a lot of rice. Lucky me, rice is my best meal. The only food-related shock for me was their use of sugar. They use too much in their teas, and they add sugar to their stew and spices.

The weather is a lot like Lagos, very humid with a lot of rain. The taxi services were very efficient, and there were air conditioners even in the buses. One discouraging thing is installing air conditioning in a room, which I tried twice. It was very, very expensive. The money to do that alone could pay your rent here in Nigeria.

The country is very organised. Electricity and water were not issues compared to Nigeria. We drank directly from the tap over there. Then the same thing with their currency; they kept it controlled. Nigeria is richer than Sri Lanka on paper, but they’ve kept their currency controlled so it doesn’t fluctuate as much as ours. The situation there is just far better than it is in Nigeria.

Let’s talk about affordability. How did you afford your trip and stay?

My trip was sponsored by the Tertiary Education Trust Fund (TETFund). On the visa, it clearly states you cannot work. If you do, you’ll be sent back home. So covering expenses was difficult; I had to depend on Nigeria almost totally and the goodwill of people to make up for it.

My supervisor also took an interest in me and got to know that we were not allowed to work. So he let me edit his work and gave me a little stipend for it to help me survive.

What were your best experiences in Sri Lanka?

There were a few.

The first one was about my studies. It was a bit difficult getting my money from Nigeria at one point because the Nigerian government stopped our cards from working. But the University of Colombo was very understanding. Some of my colleagues chickened out and went back to Nigeria, but I didn’t.

I once went to see the Dean of the Faculty of Postgraduate Studies, to check if I’d be allowed to defend my doctoral thesis even though I had not finished paying my fees due to the Nigerian situation. She’s a woman I like to describe as an “iron lady,” but I managed to find a way around this. When I got to her office, I found out it was her birthday, and they’re a pretty big deal in Sri Lanka. I hyped her up, telling her how nice it was to hear that it was her birthday. She was so excited that I was celebrating with her. She told me, “Don’t worry, you’ll be the next person to do your defence.” And truly, they allowed me to defend before completing my fees.

The second was at a think tank called the Institute for Ethnic Studies. My supervisor told me to attend seminars there. On one of those occasions, I met an American who eventually became my landlady. She had been in Nigeria because her dad was an ambassador. As an adult, she had worked in Bayelsa state and was now working for the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) programme in Sri Lanka. We bonded over her love for food and my love for cooking. She eventually rented a space to me in their diplomatic compound.

Another one: on the day I was signing off, my supervisor gave me a gift. In Nigerian universities, lecturers don’t give you gifts; it is the other way around. But my supervisor brought out a statue of an elephant, one of Sri Lanka’s national animals. She told me, “You have lived in Sri Lanka, and you have done well. I pressed you a lot, and I thought you would run back to Nigeria.” She was impressed with my work ethic, and that was her way of appreciating me.

It really had an impact on me and how I go about interacting with my own students now. It showed me things can be different from how we normally do it in Nigeria.

There was also the church. I had the privilege to be trained by Calvary Church in Colombo. An elderly man I met in church persuaded me to join their training, the Calvary Seminary. It was an uphill task for me as a doctoral student, but it was a turning point.

*From my time in a seminary school program in Sri Lanka*

I met quite a number of people I ordinarily would not have met. The church was sending me to do relief duty for their pastors. It afforded me the opportunity to travel around Colombo and outside, and most times it wasn’t at my own expense. I had one of the first times in my life preaching using an interpreter. Being a Black African preaching in their church was really great for me. That was one of the greatest things that happened to me.

What were your favourite things about Sri Lanka?

My favourite thing was how the system there just works. My doctorate studies finished at the right time, unlike in Nigeria, where strikes could have made it as long as 10 to 14 years. Everything in Sri Lanka is just far more organised. The people and system are fair; if you deserved something, they gave it to you.

*With my Nigerian bestie and Sri Lankan friends on a Beach in Colombo, Sri Lanka (2015)*

For leisure activities, I loved the beaches. You could even go at night without feeling unsafe, unlike in Nigeria, where you might get robbed. Security there is very good. They respect their police. The police hardly carried weapons; they only had whistles, and everyone obeyed the whistles.

Sounds like a great place, but what didn’t you like?

The buses are often overcrowded. If you get on at the wrong time, you are in for it. The high humidity could make it a really bad experience. I learned to always hustle for door seats so I could easily get out when I needed to. Also, some of the few tuk-tuk (keke) drivers try to cheat foreigners by messing with the rates on their meters.

There’s also some level of racism there, whether on the bus or when meeting with people. When I arrived, I found that many of the fellow Nigerians just kept to themselves in their own little community.

But on the whole, I had a positive experience, and I would go back if I got the chance.

So the racism did not impact your view of the country?

It’s all about your mindset. I mean, is it any different from the religious biases and tribalism we have in Nigeria? There’s a saying I like that says if you respond to every dog that barks at you, you will never get to your destination. This world is not perfect. When there is racism, you must have a way to deal with it—brush it off, move on, and focus on your goals.

You mentioned wanting to go back. Are you exploring immigration opportunities to Sri Lanka or elsewhere?

Yes, I am. Apart from Sri Lanka, I’m also looking elsewhere. I’m exploring the talent option for the UK. The US was on my list as well until their recent political shifts. But now I’m focusing on Europe, Australia, and New Zealand.

I think Sri Lanka is a great place to live. As a professor, I usually have to be a surety for people going abroad for doctoral studies, and I always encourage them to go to Sri Lanka and stay back if they get the opportunity. Many Americans and Europeans even go to Sri Lanka when they retire because it is a good place to live and get value for their money. I encourage people to explore those opportunities.

On a scale of one to ten, how happy were you in Sri Lanka?

I would say eight point five. It was a great experience.

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The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

How long have you been with your partner?

I met my wife, Sola, through a family friend in 2022, and we got married a year later. October 2026 will make it our third year of marriage.

Tell me more about how you met

I had been single for about three years and was ready to try another relationship that would hopefully lead to marriage. But most of the ladies I met weren’t serious. Once I talked to them for a while and expressed interest, they would start asking me for money. I sell and repair ACs; I don’t have money like that.

I was tired of the constant billing, but I also wanted to find a good woman. So, I started to tell family and friends that I was looking for a wife. A close family friend connected me with Sola. At first, I didn’t consider her as an option, but she turned out to be an understanding and caring woman.

Why didn’t you consider her?

She had a two-year-old daughter. It’s not that I didn’t like her because she was a single mother; I just thought her child was young. I was worried that she was still involved with her child’s father or had to talk to him. I didn’t want to be with someone who had another man in her life.

However, my family friend assured me that the child’s father had abandoned them in Nigeria and married someone else in another country. That meant they wouldn’t be seeing each other physically, and he wouldn’t be calling her every time either.

I started getting to know Sola better. We connected, and I liked her character. She didn’t bill me like other women. In fact, she cooked and served me the first day I went to her house. We weren’t even dating then. It showed me that she was really mature and wouldn’t need a man to give her money before showing him respect and care.

Interesting. What was Sola’s financial situation like when you got together?

She taught at a school — she still does — and also had a hairdressing salon in front of her family’s house. I don’t really know how much she was making, but she lived alone and was comfortable. It was the first time I dated a financially independent woman. She even helped me with small business loans a few times. I always paid her back, sha.

She had to let go of her salon when we got married in 2023. Her family’s house is quite far from where we live, so it doesn’t make sense to travel all that distance for a salon. We haven’t been able to raise money to get a better salon close to us, so she’s been running home services after school and on the weekends.

Also, my wife’s child started living with us a year ago. It’s not easy to manage her work at the school and two children (we had a baby in 2024). Now imagine adding the stress of a salon and apprentices. It was easier when the eldest child was with Sola’s parents.

Do you mean your stepdaughter didn’t always live with you both?

No, she didn’t. She lived with her grandparents. Even when Sola and I were dating, the child didn’t live with her. I honestly thought we’d continue with that arrangement after marriage.

However, Sola’s mum had a stroke last year and couldn’t take care of the child anymore. I suggested sending her to stay with Sola’s sister, but Sola refused. It almost caused a big fight, but I had to let the issue go to let peace reign.

Why were you against the idea?

We never discussed the child living with us. It was like being forced into a financial responsibility I hadn’t prepared for. Imagine starting a marriage with children almost immediately. My expenses have doubled. I can’t drop money for food and say it’s only for one child na, abi?

The child also recently started school, and Sola begged me to contribute to the school fees. That was an extra ₦80k I hadn’t planned for. I can’t tell her to go and meet the child’s father because people will say, “Didn’t you know she was a single mother before you married her?” So, I have to accept that I’ll have to financially provide for the child one way or another, even if I don’t particularly like it.

It’s what Yorubas call “Abẹ́lẹ́jayan án”— someone who engages in an unprofitable venture. No matter how much I spend on the child, she’ll still wake up one day and go look for her real father.

That’s an interesting way to look at it. Does your wife know about your concerns?

I believe she knows the child isn’t my primary responsibility, so she doesn’t always come to me with her needs. It’s just when she needs help that she outrightly asks. And of course, as a woman, she knows how to get money from me when she really needs it. For instance, I can’t just ignore her complaints about the child being sick. I’ll have to step in if I have money.

How do you both run your home’s finances?

We don’t really discuss it; we just know what the other has to do to contribute to the expenses. I pay ₦450k in rent for our mini flat, pay for electricity, and drop ₦10k every week for food. If the food money isn’t enough, she adds money.

She also handles the children’s needs and small things around the house. Sometimes when I’m broke, Sola loans me money, and I pay her back when I make money. We know how to manage ourselves.

Do you have a budget for relationship expenses, like dates and gifts?

No. We don’t spend money on unnecessary things. If she sees something she likes and needs, she tells me, and if I have money, I’ll give it to her. If I don’t, we leave it. I’m not a birthday person like that, so I don’t need gifts. If she wants to make me happy, she knows she just needs to cook my favourite meal and let me rest.

Do you both have financial safety nets?

I put ₦30k into a monthly ajo contribution, so I only need to add a little money to it and pay rent. Sola knows how to manage money, so whenever I have excess cash, I give it to her to keep for me. Most of the time, we still use whatever I keep with her to handle household needs or family emergencies.

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

I hope to be a major electronics supplier in the future. At least, if I make enough money to do business, we’ll be able to live a better life and enjoy good things. Sola is also always talking about building her own school someday. So, that’ll be good too.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I’m a Heavy Saver, but He’s an Impulse Spender

Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

Saving doesn’t stop life from happening. When things come up, Carbon doesn’t force you to choose between progress and survival. Your locked savings keep growing, and you can use it as collateral to access a loan at just 3% interest. It’s saving, built different so you can move different. Create a savings plan here.

When did you first realise the importance of money?

I understood the concept of exchange before actually handling money. In primary school, I loved drawing cartoon characters like Ben 10 and Naruto, and I was good at it.

I drew these characters on pieces of paper torn from my notebook. My mum, who was a headmistress, wasn’t particularly impressed that I tore my notebooks to draw. So, as a workaround, I drew for classmates in exchange for extra sheets of paper. I was being paid, just not with money.

Watching how hard my mum worked also made me think about the importance of money.

Tell me more

My mum was a single mum of two. My dad died pretty early; I don’t even remember much about him. So, it was up to my mum to provide for us. We weren’t financially stable, but I knew my mum worked hard to keep food on the table. We couldn’t always afford nice things, but she did her best to ensure we had the basics.

What was the first thing you did to earn money?

Still my drawing and art talent. I went to a secondary school attended by rich kids, and one day, when I was in JSS 2, a classmate approached me. He’d heard I could draw and needed help with his assignment. He paid me ₦200, which was enough for two doughnuts and a bottle of Coke. It was good money.

After that, I had a relatively steady stream of people paying me at least ₦150 to do their assignments. I stopped in JSS 3 when a teacher noticed my drawing style in other students’ assignments and warned me not to do it anymore.

I didn’t do anything else for money until uni. I entered uni in 2017 and was on a ₦10k/month allowance from my mum, which only covered food and transport, nothing extra. Even then, ₦10k didn’t last me until the end of the month. In the second semester, my uncle gave me a laptop, and I decided to learn design.

How did you go about this?

I knew a graphic designer from church, and with my mum’s consent, I spent my semester break learning CorelDRAW at his studio. It helped me learn how to digitally recreate the images I drew on paper. I also assisted the graphic designer with t-shirt prints, banner designs and the like.

I learnt from him for two months until school resumed. In school, I kept designing and started posting my work on my WhatsApp status. Then a friend reached out one day, asking if I designed logos. I said “yes,” and she introduced me to a client.

I can’t forget that logo. It was for a finance-based business, and the logo featured a house with a chimney. Now that I think about it, we don’t have chimneys in Nigeria, so that was completely unnecessary.

I’m screaming. How much did you make from that first gig?

₦2500. It was the biggest amount I could think of. Subsequently, I started receiving logo requests from fellow students who ran small businesses. I didn’t have a flat rate. Students don’t have money, and no one would’ve paid ₦2500.

So, I charged students between ₦1k and ₦1500 for logos and banners. Most of the time, I was only making an extra ₦3k or ₦4k a month, but it felt nice to add that to my pocket money.

This went on until COVID came. While people complained about being bored, all I did was eat, sleep and watch design tutorials. I was designing every single day. Before the school shutdown, I’d begun moving with a student club of developers and tech guys. I could tell these guys had more money than the average student, and I figured I could be like that if I improved my craft. The lockdown gave me the opportunity to fine-tune my skills.

Some time after the lockdown was lifted, I posted a test project I’d designed on Twitter. A marketing agency reached out to me and told me they liked my work. Then, they asked if I was open to a full-time role.

That’s how they offered me a job with a ₦60k/month salary. I was so excited that I called my mum immediately. Unfortunately, my excitement was short-lived.

Uh oh. What happened?

They fired me after three months. I had a difficult time transitioning from freelancing to paid employment. I’m a perfectionist, and I take time because I need everything to look good. However, companies have deadlines, and after I delayed a few tasks, the agency ghosted me. They didn’t even give me clear communication; they just stopped paying my salary and didn’t respond to my questions. I got the message.

I was sad because I liked the job, but the experience helped me realise I wasn’t as good as I thought. There had been callbacks on a number of my designs, and it was pretty clear I still had some learning to do.

I lost the job in December 2020, and around the same time, a friend introduced me to someone who had opened a co-working space. The founder told me he needed a designer to create marketing materials, but didn’t have the money to pay. However, I would get free access to the co-working space (plus the WiFi) as long as I worked with him.

Did you accept?

I did. It would give me the opportunity to work on my craft and potentially meet new people. This arrangement lasted two years, and during that time, the founder referred me to multiple clients. So, it was a win-win.

Beyond the referrals, I was getting gigs from various sources. One time, I worked with a guy who had Fiverr and Upwork accounts and would outsource gigs to me. In 2021, I got my first foreign client on Twitter, who paid me $82 for a couple of gigs. He returned a few more times.

Throughout 2021, my monthly income from design ranged between ₦30k – ₦90k. It wasn’t stable, but I earned something every month.

2022 came with an eight-month ASUU strike and new opportunities. I landed a four-month internship at a design agency and participated in branding projects and training classes. They paid me a ₦100k/month stipend.

The experience and exposure I got from the internship gave me the morale to return to the founder of the co-working space to tell him I needed to start getting paid.

Get it! What did he say?

He couldn’t create a budget for me at the workspace, so he transferred me to a fintech company that he was a part of. There, I got hired as a brand and product designer. My salary started at ₦80k/month, then jumped to ₦120k after the three-month probation. This was in 2023.

I was in 400 level at this point, juggling the fintech job, actively freelancing and taking occasional gigs from the design agency I interned at. The least amount I earned in a month was my ₦120k salary. With my other hustles, I was comfortably netting ₦200k – ₦500k in some months.

Not bad for a student. What were your spending habits like?

Besides spending on the basic necessities, I was saving to buy a MacBook. In the design community, that laptop is like a badge of honour. It took me a full year to save over ₦1m to buy it.

In 2024, I left the fintech because I was juggling bigger things — Fiverr. I had opened an account in January because a friend was opening his, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to join him. That turned out to be the best decision I’ve made for my freelance journey.

I made $120 in the first month I joined Fiverr. By March, Fiverr and a few other freelance projects brought me ₦1.5m. The subsequent months were at least ₦700k. I also got another full-time role at a creative agency at some point in the year. They paid me ₦200k/month.

So, I was earning from two full-time jobs and a profitable freelance hustle. To put it simply, I was balling.

Love to see it

The extra income made it easy for me to start thinking about investments. I began thinking of a future where I could afford not to work, and I knew investments could get me there. So, I started sending any spare cash to a real estate plan on an investment app.

After leaving the fintech in November 2024, I took another part-time job with a returning UK-based client. He paid me $1000/month to work 40 hours a week. So, again, I was working two jobs and managing my freelancing business.

Wasn’t that a lot to juggle? Also, you haven’t mentioned school in a while.

See, greed is a very fascinating thing. I tried not to take on heavy freelance gigs, but I was still practically doing three different things at once. Who says no to money?

As for school, I dropped out in my final year. I wasn’t doing very well, and the course wasn’t what I wanted to do. I even got an extra year. I just couldn’t engage with school anymore, so I finally quit in 2025.

I’m curious, how did your mum react to that?

I kept it from her until I couldn’t anymore. My answers to her “What’s happening at school?” got sloppier, and I had to come clean. My mum doesn’t cry. I can count the number of times I’ve seen her cry. But the day I told her I dropped out, she completely broke down.

The thing is, my mum is an academic. She believes you need to go to school to get a good job and have a good life. She couldn’t believe I’d make such a decision after all her sacrifices. The issue shook our relationship, and it’s still shaky to this day. She doesn’t talk to me much anymore. I try to call her, but our conversations are always awkward.

Do you think it was worth it to drop out so close to the finish line, though?

I don’t think staying around would’ve changed anything. I never cared for classes, and even as a final-year student, I still couldn’t answer basic questions about my course.

Besides, people around me were graduating and doing totally different things. You’d see someone who graduated with a nursing degree working as a product manager. Life isn’t black and white. If I can’t give my time to school, I might as well give it to design and build a stronger career.

It also helped that I was doing really well financially. I left the creative agency in 2025 to focus on the UK job and Fiverr. My monthly income was around $2000, which is almost ₦3m in naira. I was financially responsible for myself. I moved into a new apartment, set up a small workstation, bought an inverter to solve power issues and Starlink to avoid network wahala. The whole thing cost me about ₦3m, but it was definitely worth it for my productivity.

What does your monthly income look like these days?

I’m still at the $2k mark, but this is entirely from the UK job (I got a raise in 2024). My Fiverr account was blocked in October, I suspect, due to a bad review left by a client. I haven’t been able to gain access since then.

The experience has driven me to put more effort into growing my personal brand, in case I lose another source of income. I still get occasional freelance gigs, but it’s not at the same level as I had with Fiverr.

In addition to building my personal brand, I’m very intentional about my investments. I live on 25% – 30% of my income; the rest goes into investments. A short-term goal I have, which I call my 401 (k), is to get to the point where my investments pay me at least ₦1m every month.

The investment app I use has a feature that gives users 25% of their total investment monthly if they have more than ₦5m in their accounts. I estimate I’ll need ₦40m in the account to get ₦1m monthly, and I plan to get there in 5 years.

My long-term goal is to save up to $1m or at least ₦1bn. If I invest that in different channels and earn around $15k monthly, I’ll never need to work again.

Those are big dreams. Let’s talk about the life your income affords you right now

The life I live doesn’t match my income at all. I’m very frugal. Last year, I earned ₦40m in income and ₦2m in investment dividends. Yet, I live in a tiny self-contained apartment. I’m a big believer in staying as small as possible for as long as possible.

I spend 30% of my income now, and that’s only because of the new tax laws. I don’t want the government taxing me too much, so I registered an LLC early this year and now “pay” myself a ₦600k monthly salary. The rest of the money stays in investments. Even from that ₦600k, my usual monthly expense is just about ₦350k. The rest still goes to investments and other minor expenses. I live way below my means. I have a budget for everything.

Walk me through what your monthly budget looks like

How about your investment portfolio?

I have ₦1.2m in my emergency fund. I started investing in stocks in 2025, and currently have ₦8.6m there. Then another ₦20.4m in my real estate investment account — that’s the one I’m trying to raise to ₦40m.

I also have another ₦360k in a separate account specifically for taxes. I calculate tax for whatever I earn and send it there, so I’m not surprised when the government starts asking for it. In total, my net worth is around ₦35m, which is still very far from ₦1bn.

How would you describe your relationship with money?

I’m very diligent with money. I’m diligent about how I make it, and for the past year, I’ve been diligent about paying myself first by investing in my future goals. One thing I’m still trying to learn is staying with my budget.

Sometimes, my actual monthly expenses reach ₦450k. Clearly, I still have some work to do with watching out for the small things that balloon into big expenses. Buying more protein shakes at the gym or spending a bit more on transport once or twice don’t sound like much, but those things that add up.

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning?

For my perfect life, my dream income is $15k/month. However, I’m really happy with where I am. It’s a lot more than most people get. So I’m not complaining. I want more, as most people do, but I am also content. I’m not overspending, and I’m going slowly. Slow is good. Slow is fine.

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

Maybe a relationship. I can afford it, to be honest, but I know love can be financial. I’m too frugal to spend on dates or anything like that right now.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

9. I earn enough to create artificial scarcity. I earn almost ₦3m monthly but choose to live on just ₦600k. That’s an interesting place to be.

Curious, do you sometimes wish you’d completed school?

I have no regrets. Of course, there’s the issue of the certificate, but I’m open to the idea of having my own business one day, and I can always go to business school.

If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

Yes, I want to do a Naira Life!

Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

If you’re hitting the gym before sunrise, battling hot traffic, or powering through back-to-back meetings, staying fresh throughout the day can feel like a real challenge. The good news is that a few smart daily habits, paired with the right hygiene products like Dettol Cool Soap, can make all the difference between feeling sweaty and staying fresh.

Here are five simple daily routines you can try today to keep you feeling fresh all day.

Start the morning strong with a shower

Your morning shower sets the tone for everything that follows, so make it count. Lukewarm or cool water helps close your pores and leaves skin feeling refreshed, but the real game-changer is what you bathe with.

Reach for Dettol Cool, a soap that delivers trusted antibacterial germ protection while giving you an invigorating burst of cooling freshness. It leaves your skin feeling cool and refreshed, like a gentle breeze on a hot day. Make it part of your daily routine.

Target the trouble zones

Many people assume sweat itself causes body odour, but sweat is largely odourless. The smell develops when bacteria living on the skin break down sweat in areas like the underarms and other tight spaces on the body. Because these areas produce more sweat, they can become hotspots for odour. During and after your shower, give these spots a little extra attention to help keep bacteria under control and stay fresh throughout the day.

Also, apply a reliable antiperspirant or deodorant immediately after drying off; your skin is most receptive then. For your feet, ensure they’re completely dry before putting on socks and shoes, since moisture is what bacteria love most. Breathable fabrics make a big difference, too. By washing away bacteria with an antibacterial product like Dettol Cool, you keep your body smelling fresh for longer.

Stay hydrated, stay fresh

Living in a warm climate like Nigeria’s means your body works harder to stay cool throughout the day. When temperatures rise, you naturally sweat more to regulate your body temperature, which is why staying properly hydrated is essential.

Drinking enough water helps your body cool itself more efficiently and can prevent overheating. Aim for at least eight glasses of water per day and if you’re exercising, you’ll need even more.

You can also support hydration with water-rich foods and drinks. Options like watermelon and cucumber also help keep your internal cooling system running smoothly.

Have a mid-day reset

Even with the best morning routine, an active day takes its toll. A mid-afternoon reset can make the second half of your day feel just as fresh as the first. Take a quick rinse after your

lunch break or workout to refresh your body. When that’s not practical, use a cool, damp cloth on your neck and wrists, cleansing wipes, or change into fresh clothes.

Many active individuals swear by keeping a small hygiene kit in their bag: a travel-sized deodorant, a face wash, and a Dettol Cool soap. This kind of proactive hygiene thinking is what separates people who merely cope with their active lifestyle from those who thrive in it.

Wind down with an evening cleanse

The evening cleanse is often overlooked, but it’s one of the most important steps in a complete hygiene routine. Throughout the day, your skin accumulates sweat, bacteria, environmental pollutants, and dead skin cells. Going to bed without washing it all away is not just uncomfortable; it can lead to skin issues and a less restful night’s sleep.

A thorough evening bath does double duty: it removes the day’s buildup while the cooling sensation helps lower your body temperature slightly, which can actually signal to your body that it’s time to wind down.

Make your evening shower a consistent part of your routine. Light, breathable nightwear, a clean sleep environment, and fresh skin mean you wake up in a better state, and your morning shower becomes even more effective.

Here’s the bottom line

Staying cool, clean, and odour-free isn’t about one habit. It’s about building a consistent routine that works with your lifestyle. For active individuals who demand more from their day, Dettol Cool soap earns its place in that routine by offering the dual assurance of proven antibacterial protection and a cooling sensation.

This month, the world is celebrating International Women’s Day under the theme: “Rights. Justice. Action. For ALL Women and Girls.” It’s a call to ensure that every woman and girl, regardless of location, class, or circumstance, has access to their fundamental rights, receives justice when those rights are violated, and sees concrete action from governments to protect them.

But in Nigeria, the issues that uniquely burden women aren’t just being ignored; they’re getting worse. And we have the data to prove it.

When the Informal Sector Collapses, Women Fall First

A 2025 report by BudgIT revealed that women make up over 50% of Nigeria’s informal economy workers. The informal economy is an essential source of livelihood for many, and it provides job security for women who may not have opportunities to work in the formal sector.

These women are the market traders buying goods in bulk and reselling them, the farmers who are transporting livestock from farms to cities, the hairdressers, tailors, and small-scale entrepreneurs who keep Nigeria’s economy moving. But these women work in low-pay, unprotected roles with zero safety nets, such as pension plans and health insurance. So, when the economy crashes, they crash with it. And under Tinubu, the economy has crashed spectacularly.

When the President removed the fuel subsidy in May 2023, petrol prices jumped from ₦185 per litre to over ₦1,000.

The government launched initiatives like the Nigeria for Women Programme, promising to reach 25 million women through a digital app for finance and market access. But implementation has been slow and largely invisible while women’s businesses collapse in real time.

Gender-Based Violence Cases Are on The Rise

There’s a direct connection between economic collapse and violence against women. When poverty increases, Gender-Based Violence (GBV) increases with it.

In Akwa Ibom State alone, GBV cases increased by 25% due to the widespread economic difficulties created by the fuel subsidy removal. Women are being abused at higher rates. And they’re trapped because the same economic policies that fueled the violence have destroyed their ability to leave.

In September 2023 alone, 24,720 GBV cases were reported nationwide. From January to September 2025, there were 10,326 reported cases, affecting 30% of women aged 15-49.

The National Institute for Legislative and Democratic Studies states that femicide rates have surged 240% in early 2025 compared to the previous year.

Government spending on GBV response rose by a meagre amount from ₦311 per woman/girl in 2023 to ₦365 in 2024. That’s less than the cost of a basic meal. As of November 2025, Nigeria has 50 Sexual Assault Referral Centres across only 24 states, meaning more than a third of the country has none at all. The shelters that exist were built by NGO’s who surviving on donations and international funding, not the government. And the Minister herself has acknowledged the numbers are nowhere near enough.

The Healthcare System Is Killing Women

Nigeria has one of the world’s highest maternal mortality rates. In 2023, the country accounted for over 29% of all maternal deaths worldwide. Women are dying from preventable complications during pregnancy and childbirth. This government has exacerbated the problem.

More than 4,000 women received free C-sections, and 1,000 primary health centres were revitalised during Tinubu’s first two years, with a focus on rural areas with healthcare shortages. Sounds good, right? Except the data tells a completely different story.

Market surveys conducted by The PUNCH in 2025 show that medicine prices have increased by between 30 per cent and 100 per cent in just 14 months. And here’s perhaps the most surprising stat: The family planning budget was slashed by 97% in 2025.

This means women have almost no access to contraception, reproductive health services, or family planning resources. In a country that already has one of the world’s highest maternal mortality rates, the government decided reproductive healthcare wasn’t worth funding. It’s very telling.

The Gender Gap in Nigeria Refuses to Close

Women make up only 20% of Nigeria’s ICT workforce and 22% of engineering and tech graduates. This is a sector that contributes 18% to Nigeria’s GDP and represents the future of the economy, yet women are being systematically excluded.

A 2023 research published by ONE Campaign and the Centre for Global Development showed that only about 30% of 93 surveyed technology companies in Nigeria are owned by women, and more than one-third of these companies employed no women at all.

As is the case with other things we have discussed, this gender work gap is caused by poverty, cultural biases, and lack of access.

This digital divide that exists in Nigeria reinforces economic inequality. Without internet access or ICT tools, girls in rural areas are left behind in a rapidly digitising world.

In a 2025 interview with Vanguard Newspapers, Ufoma Emuophedaroa, who runs a 13-year-long advocacy campaign for girls in ICT, says that early exposure of girls to tech makes all the difference. So, why isn’t the government investing in this?

“One of the most frustrating issues for campaigners is the government’s little involvement. I once approached a federal agency to assist the program, but they requested that I pay for the minister’s lodging, meals, and flights. I was shocked. Isn’t this a government priority?” She asked.

In 2019, the National Digital Economy Policy and Strategy (2020–2030) was launched, and one of its implementation strategies was to ensure that the digital skills training programme incorporates women, but critics argue that implementation has been slow, especially in rural communities.

The economic collapse that destroyed women’s businesses and trapped them in violent homes is also closing off their daughters’ futures. Girls who might have studied computer science or engineering are dropping out to help at home, getting married early, or entering the same informal sector trap their mothers are stuck in.

Women’s participation in STEM in Nigeria has always been poor, and it hasn’t gotten better. In fact, under Tinubu, the gap is persistent, stubborn, and unmoving, and this can be tied directly to the economic pressures this administration has created. When you can’t afford the internet, you can’t learn to code. When you don’t have a smartphone, you can’t access online STEM resources. When your family is starving, going to school is the least of their worries. It’s an endless loop of suffering.

Tinubu, why did you lie?

Women have long been left out of Nigeria’s most important decision-making spaces, a problem that predates Tinubu and has been ongoing through administration after administration. Buhari’s eight years offered little improvement, with women consistently sidelined in appointments and policy. During his 2023 campaign, Bola Tinubu made a clear commitment in his Renewed Hope manifesto. He promised that 35% of all senior government positions would go to women. The APC women’s leader, Betta Edu, promised women they’d finally get “the right seat at the table.”

Photo of Betta Edu and President Bola Tinubu.
Photo credit: Vanguard Newspapers

Two years later, women are still waiting outside the door. Out of 48 ministers in Tinubu’s cabinet, only 8 are women. That’s 16.7% and nowhere close to 35%. Despite multiple cabinet reshuffles, that number hasn’t budged.

Image showing the Female Ministers of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
Photo Credit: National Assembly Library Trust Fund

When women are shut out of decision-making spaces, the issues that specifically and disproportionately affect them–maternal mortality, sexual violence, and menstrual health– fall off the agenda completely.

And if you needed more proof of how little this country values women’s voices, here’s what just happened in March 2026.

Kogi Central Senator, Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, was invited by the Ministry of Women Affairs to represent Nigeria at the 70th UN Commission on the Status of Women (CSW70), held March 9-19, 2026, in New York.

A March 5 letter confirmed Senate sponsorship for Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senator Adeniyi Adegbonmire (Ondo Central).

Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senator Godswill Akpabio

But the Nigerian Senate removed Akpoti-Uduaghan from the delegation, leaving just Adegbonmire, who is a male senator, to be in attendance at the conference. The Senate swears the omission was not malicious and was a result of “late submission” of documents, but Akpoti-Uduaghan has countered this.

This incident is not only suspicious, but it also mirrors the normalised disregard for female representation in the country. For context, Nigeria’s National Assembly has approximately 5% female representation—the lowest in Africa according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union. There are only four women in the 109-member Senate, down from eight in the previous assembly.

When you have 5% women in your legislature, when you promise 35% and deliver 17% in the cabinet, when you remove female senators from women’s rights conferences, you’re not just breaking promises, you’re denying their importance.

The denial doesn’t stop at representation; it also affects their funding. The Ministry of Women Affairs, the government body responsible for advancing women’s issues, received approximately 0.05% of the ₦28 trillion 2024 budget. That’s roughly ₦6.5 billion out of ₦28 trillion. For a ministry charged with addressing maternal mortality, GBV, economic exclusion, healthcare access, and every other issue we’ve discussed in this article, that amount hardly scratches the surface.

To top it off, Tinubu has continued to pay lip service to important legislation that could actually change things for women. The Special Seats for Women Bill, which would create 219 additional seats exclusively for women, has been stuck in committee since July 2024. The Gender and Equal Opportunities Bill, which would guarantee 35% affirmative action in appointments, has been stalled for years by “cultural concerns.” The promises are stacking up, and nothing gets passed.

You can’t fix what you can’t see. And when women aren’t in the room, their bodies, their safety, and their specific needs become invisible.

What’s the Way Forward?

In Nigeria, women’s businesses are being taken from them through policies that ignore how they actually work and earn. The rising cost of healthcare and cuts in reproductive health budgets undermine their health. Women’s voices are being taken away by systematic exclusion from political power. So what then should they celebrate??

The International Women’s Day theme demands three things: Rights. Justice. Action.

Here’s what each of these currently looks like

Rights: Women’s rights in Nigeria are not protected — they are negotiated, defunded, and discarded whenever they become inconvenient.

Justice: There is no justice in a system that knows the problem, names the problem, and then does nothing. Knowing is not accountability. Naming is not changing.

Action: The only action this government has mastered is the art of the announcement — bold promises, quiet reversals, and silence where policy should be.

Here’s what actual rights, justice, and action SHOULD look like:

Real economic safety nets that acknowledge the 92% of women working in the informal sector. Low-interest loans and business recovery grants that help women rebuild what fuel prices destroyed. When women’s businesses thrive, the entire economy improves. Their success is Nigeria’s success.
Comprehensive GBV response that goes beyond ₦365 per woman. Legal aid that’s accessible. Prosecutors who take cases seriously and courts that convict abusers. Laws that protect women, not just on paper but in practice. Because right now, women are being killed at record rates, and the government is spending less and less on their protection.
Healthcare that women can actually access; it is not enough to preach and provide policies; the women for whom they’re created must be able to access them. Family planning budget should be restored, not slashed
Funding scholarships for women in STEM, and the cultural biases that lock women out of careers in STEM.
Political representation that actually reflects progress, actualisation of the reserved seats legislation, and adequate funding for the Women’s Affairs Ministry.

This women’s month, Nigerian women don’t need performative celebrations or presidential goodwill messages. They need their rights protected. They need justice when those rights are violated, and they need action that actually improves their lives.

Rights. Justice. Action. For ALL Women and Girls is a demand. And it’s HIGH time this government started delivering.

We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us here—we’d love to hear from you!

Zikoko’s HERtitude is back this April 2026. Grab your tickets here.

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From early morning traffic to late-night side hustles, Nigerian cities never sleep. Whether you’re navigating Lagos gridlock, running errands in Ibadan, studying in Benin, or building your dreams in Abuja, one thing remains constant, your phone has to keep up.

That’s exactly why the itel CITY 200 was created.

Designed for everyday Nigerians who want style, performance, and durability without paying premium prices, the itel CITY 200 brings together slim design, smooth display, splash protection, and smart features in one affordable smartphone.

This isn’t just another phone. It’s a city companion.

Built Slim, Designed Strong

The first thing you notice about the itel CITY 200 is its sleek body. At just 7.45mm, it feels light in your hand and slips easily into pockets or bags. Its metallic unibody design gives it a premium look that easily competes with more expensive smartphones.

But don’t let the slim profile fool you.

The CITY 200 also comes with IP65 splash protection, helping guard against dust and light water exposure, perfect for unexpected rain, sweaty palms, or minor spills during busy days.

For Nigerians constantly on the move, this balance of elegance and toughness is a big win.

Smooth Display for Busy Lives

Your phone screen is where everything happens be it work, entertainment, communication.

The itel CITY 200 features a 6.78-inch punch-hole display with a 120Hz refresh rate, delivering ultra-smooth scrolling and crisp visuals. Whether you’re replying messages, browsing social media, watching videos, or jumping between apps, everything feels fast and fluid.

This smooth display makes daily phone use more enjoyable, especially for people who spend hours on their devices.

From content creators to students and professionals, the CITY 200 keeps up with your pace.

Powered for Everyday Performance

Nigerian lifestyles demand multitasking, from calls to WhatsApp, emails, Instagram, payments, music, and more.

The itel CITY 200 is powered by Android with itel AI enhancements, ensuring smooth navigation and efficient performance. Google apps come pre-installed, giving users instant access to Maps, Gmail, YouTube, Play Store, and more.

Switching between apps feels effortless, helping you stay productive throughout the day.

Whether you’re running a small business, attending online meetings, or coordinating deliveries, this phone handles everyday tasks without stress.

itel CITY 200: POP Fun, Ever Strong

itel understands the Nigerian consumer: value matters.

That’s why the CITY 200 delivers premium features at a budget-friendly price. You don’t have to break the bank to enjoy:

Ultra-slim design
Smooth 120Hz display
IP65 splash protection
Smart Android experience
Stylish metallic finish

It’s a phone that lets you “pay light” while still enjoying a strong performance.

Designed for Entertainment Too

Life isn’t all hustle, sometimes you need to relax.

The large screen makes streaming movies and videos immersive, while clear audio ensures enjoyable music sessions. Whether you’re watching content during lunch breaks or scrolling TikTok at night, the CITY 200 keeps entertainment smooth and engaging.

It’s the perfect balance between productivity and pleasure.

Who Is the itel CITY 200 For?

The CITY 200 is ideal for:

Young professionals building their careers
Students balancing school and social life
Entrepreneurs running businesses from their phones
Content lovers who enjoy streaming and scrolling
Anyone who wants premium feel on a budget

It’s built for real Nigerians living real city lives.

The Verdict

The itel CITY 200 proves that budget smartphones can still feel premium. With its ultra-slim body, smooth 120Hz display, splash protection, and smart performance, it stands tall as a dependable everyday device.

Every city needs a hero and for Nigerians on the move, the itel CITY 200 fits that role perfectly. Be the hero today.

In 2019, Chukwudi* (38) firmly believed relocation would solve all his problems. So, he emptied his savings, sold everything he owned and took loans to fund a new life abroad. However, less than 24 hours after landing, immigration officers put him on a plane back to Nigeria. Seven years later, he’s still recovering from the fallout.

As Told To Boluwatife

Seven years have passed since my unfortunate attempt to leave Nigeria for a better life in a different country. Yet, I still struggle to talk about my experience. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from the embarrassment and pain I suffered.

In 2019, I was 31 and convinced that escaping Nigeria was the only way to move my life forward. I was tired of my office job at a mid-sized logistics company in Lagos, and even more frustrated by the quality of life I could afford on my ₦60k salary.

I lived in a tiny self-contained apartment and couldn’t do anything besides go to the office and church every week. I couldn’t even dream about getting married or owning a car.

Meanwhile, everywhere I turned, someone was preparing to relocate or had already relocated. A former secondary school classmate moved to Germany and began posting pictures of snowy streets in our alumni WhatsApp group chat. A cousin left for the UK and started sending videos of his new apartment. Even someone from my office was talking about their plans to leave.

Everyone in my life was moving forward while I was stuck in one position. So, naturally, I started thinking about relocating too. Unfortunately, I had no money to fund any japa dream.

A colleague at work introduced me to a travel agent who explained a pathway that involved entering an Asian country with a short-term visa and arranging longer-term options after arrival. He spoke with confidence and gave examples of people who had successfully travelled the same route.

It sounded like a great plan, but he also quoted ₦15 million for the entire process — including visa processing, flight cost, accommodation arrangement and settlement support. The cost was too much for me to even imagine, let alone have somewhere.

Still, once the idea entered my head, I couldn’t let it go. For weeks, I thought only about how to raise the money and japa. It got to a point where I regularly daydreamed about finding dollars on the floor or someone mistakenly sending ₦15 million to my account.

I also started researching the japa process on my own. I realised I wouldn’t need up to ₦15 million if I did everything myself without a travel agent. Based on my findings, I estimated ₦10 million would finish the process, and I’d still have extra to hold for the first few months after I arrived in the new country.

So, I decided to start small and raise the money slowly. I convinced myself I’d somehow raise ₦10 million.

First, I liquidated my entire life savings of about ₦700k to start the visa application process. Next, I sold my late father’s acres of land in the village for ₦3 million. That move caused some issues between me and some extended family members. They argued I shouldn’t have made that move without their approval, but I didn’t really care what they thought. My only focus was on leaving the country.

And it seemed like things were working out in my favour. I got a six-month visa on my first try and still had an extra ₦2 million in my account. I only needed to raise about ₦6 million more to reach the ₦8 million I estimated for flight costs, accommodation and settlement budget.

For accommodation, my colleague had linked me up with someone living in the country I was planning to travel to, and he’d promised to help me get a place. I just needed to send ₦3 million to him.

For the next five months, I tried everything to raise ₦8 million.

I started by taking loans. At first, it was from people close to me: my elder brother, two cousins, and a church member who ran a small cooperative. When that money finished, I started asking friends. Then friends of friends, and even people in my office. Before long, I had borrowed money from more than 12 people.

I told everyone the same thing: once I settled in Asia, I would start paying back immediately. Everybody believed me because at that time, it felt like moving abroad was a shortcut to success. Once you entered, your life automatically changed.

When the loans didn’t fetch me the money I needed, I started selling my things. My TV, generator, wardrobe and even my bed. At some point, I was sleeping on top of my clothes on the floor. I convinced myself I would eventually need to sell everything off when I was travelling anyway.

As my visa expiry date drew near and I saw no sign of raising the full amount I needed, I grew even more desperate. I decided to sublet my apartment without my landlord’s knowledge. I collected ₦1 million for two years’ rent from a former schoolmate’s brother and told him to lie to the landlord that he was my brother who had come to stay with me from the village.

After all my fundraising efforts, I was only able to raise an additional ₦4 million, bringing my account balance to ₦6 million. By then, I had only one week left on my visa.

The delay had also made it impossible for me to buy plane tickets in advance at a lower price. I eventually spent ₦2.8 million on tickets. After I sent the ₦3 million to the guy who had promised to help me with accommodation, I had just ₦200k left. Still, I believed I could easily find work when I arrived in the new country.

I travelled with that belief. I remember my excitement that day. My siblings took me to the airport, and we took countless pictures and videos. My mum even called and sent several prayers over the phone. Everyone was happy for me.

On the plane, I was lucky enough to sit in a window seat and took even more pictures. I kept telling myself, “My life is about to start.”

I didn’t know it had already ended.

After two layovers, I finally arrived at my destination. At immigration, the officer stared at my passport for a long time. Then he started asking several questions about the duration of my visit and how much money I had.

Remember, I only had a few days left on my visa. Well, I told him I was there on a short two-day vacation to tour the country. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t plan to return.

Now that I think about it, my “vacation” story was too foolish. Who would’ve believed I was only there for two days when I travelled with three big bags?

The immigration officer called another officer, and the two spoke for a long time in a language I didn’t understand. Then they took me into a room and started asking me detailed questions. At some point, they even asked if I had paid someone to help me disappear after entry.

I kept insisting I was just visiting. But they didn’t believe me. I spent that night in an airport detention room with three strangers. Nobody explained anything or told me what would happen next.

The next morning, the immigration officers handed me a document and said I would be returned to Nigeria immediately. They said my visa timeline was suspicious and they’d prefer to remove me from the country before any overstay occurred.

Just like that, within 24 hours of “relocating,” I found myself on a plane heading back to Nigeria. It felt like a very bad dream. I didn’t even know whether to cry or laugh. Everything happened so fast.

The reality of my situation hit me fully when I landed in Lagos. I had no home and nothing to my name. I’d sold everything and taken multiple loans to raise ₦8 million to travel.

Now, I was back to square one and even worse off than before, owing almost ₦3 million with no hope of how to pay it back.

For the first few weeks, I couldn’t face anybody. When relatives called for updates on my trip, I had to tell them the truth. News of my deportation travelled fast, and creditors started calling to ask when I would start repaying their money. I stopped picking up calls and eventually had to switch the phone off completely.

I initially hid in my brother’s house, but when the shame became too much, I ran to my village. The people there also knew about my failed relocation, but at least they wouldn’t come to me every day to ask about Asia. Even in the village, gossip from Lagos got to my ears. How most people thought I had run away with their money, and were cursing and mocking me.

It was a shameful period for me. I kept imagining how everyone expected me to be doing well abroad, but I was back with absolutely nothing. I had never heard of someone who spent less than 24 hours in a country before deportation. I wanted to die. I even tried to commit suicide twice, but my relatives rescued me.

Seven years later, I’m slowly rebuilding my life. I returned to Lagos last year after spending the last few years working with a cousin who runs a small building materials shop.

I’ve managed to repay some of the people I owed. Most of them eventually forgave my debt. I also have a better job now. My pay is still not much, but I’m surviving.

The trauma of this experience still hasn’t left me. I have nightmares about it from time to time. In my dreams, I’m coming down from a plane, and big, muscled men suddenly rush at me and push me back inside. Sometimes, I wake up crying.

Now, whenever people around me start talking about japa plans, I just keep quiet. I can’t go through that suffering again.

I know Nigeria is even worse now, and I still want a better life. But for now, I’ll try my best to find that life here.

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Spent ₦15m Relocating to China With My Wife. I Often Regret It

When Nas said, “Hip-Hop is dead” as a proclamation and the title of his 2006 album, he didn’t just rustle feathers. He created a statement that became the go-to cry for people in any era who believe that music now lacks soul and substance.

A similar thing is happening to its distant cousin, Afrobeats, but in a different way. No Don of the genre has insinuated or straight-up said, through an album/single, that Afrobeats is dead. Instead, various voices, from music execs to fans and everyone in between, are singing, not cautiously, but dreadfully, that it might soon need a pinebox. While Nas was alluding to the focus-shift from quality to mass-market profit in his 2006 release, the people now declaring Afrobeats dead are mostly referring to the funding channels that have suddenly closed.

It’s a noble concern. And though the premise of the conversation is inaccurate, it’s not entirely incorrect. The discourse that Afrobeats is in decline is often fueled by cancelled international tours, unsold tickets, shrinking marketing budgets and a perceived plateau in the genre’s global novelty. However, to provide an accurate answer or context to this concern, there must be a distinction between cultural resonance and corporate finance. Afrobeats isn’t dying; it’s undergoing a severe financial market correction and a sonic transmutation.

To declare a genre is in decline, the nature of that decline must be defined. In music, the death of a genre is rarely marked by a sudden disappearance. It’s usually characterised by three telltale signs, such as cultural stagnation (failure to attract new and young listeners or produce breakout stars), a drop in consumption metrics (streams, sales, radio plays, live performance attendance), and sonic petrification (no evolution, and heavy reliance on nostalgia instead of innovation).

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When people claim Afrobeats is declining, especially at the moment, they’re pointing to the commercial and financial issues rather than the reality of the culture. This brings me to the point that there’s a mirage around the foreign capital and investment. Between 2018 and 2023, Afrobeats experienced a huge influx of venture capital and a corporate gold rush. Major international labels threw massive advances and inflated marketing budgets at many artists based on fleeting TikTok virality, driven by a fear of missing out (FOMO). When most of those massive advances failed to recoup, because global superstardom can’t be forced on every artist, the easy money dried up.

This sobering financial situation is thoroughly detailed in the December 2025 Afrobeats Inaugural Policy Report launched by Harvard Law School’s Centre for the Study of African Economies and Societies (CSASE). In this report authored by Professor Olufunmilayo Arewa, it’s revealed that Afrobeats generated roughly $100 million in global value, yet Africa remains the lowest royalty-earning region worldwide.

The report highlights that this gap isn’t accidental, but structural. The international major labels and digital streaming platforms control the distribution, metadata and royalty pipelines. African artists often enter this system from a position of disadvantage, so profits almost entirely flow offshore. Compounding this is Nigeria’s largely informal economy, which weakens copyright enforcement and revenue tracking. Therefore, the “decline” in funding isn’t a sign that the music has lost its value. It’s a cautious reminder that our economic pipeline is functioning exactly as it was designed to. Local consumption is getting better, but the audience still needs international platform metrics to crown our stars. The live circuit is still crawling, even though events like Detty December draw millions. The lack of incoming investment is a symptom of structural flaws, not the death of Afrobeats.

ALSO READ: What Billboard’s “One-Hit Wonder” Label On Rema Reveals About the Nigerian Music Industry

Lade* (38) always imagined marriage as something joyful. Growing up in a large, tightly knit family filled with aunties, uncles and cousins, he looked forward to the day he’d build the same kind of home for himself. More than five years into his marriage, he says that dream mostly came true. But losing his mum and growing unexpectedly close to his mother-in-law created tensions he didn’t see coming.

This is a look into his marriage diary.

I grew up looking forward to marriage

I loved the idea of marriage from a young age, and I think that came from the kind of family I grew up in.

My mum had six siblings, and they were very close. Whenever we had family gatherings, the house would be packed with aunties, uncles and cousins. It was always lively and beautiful to see. The adults had their own side, we the children had our own side, and everyone was just enjoying themselves.

I remember moments when my aunties and uncles would even have dance competitions with their husbands and wives. As children, we would sit there laughing and watching them show off.

Between all of that, I’d just sit back and imagine myself one day being one of the adults there, with my own wife and children, also part of that atmosphere.

Thankfully, when I eventually got married, I found myself experiencing my own version of that dream. My wife and I don’t exactly come from huge families, but whenever there’s a reason for everyone to gather — birthdays, holidays, celebrations — and all the couples are together, it always reminds me of those moments from childhood.

I felt prepared for marriage because of my upbringing

Honestly, I can’t say marriage surprised me too much.

I think I owe that to my upbringing. Growing up in a large family meant I saw many examples of married life. I watched my uncles interact with their wives. I watched how my dad ran our home. So I had a clear sense of what was expected of a man in marriage.

One thing that always stood out to me was how my dad handled relationships with in-laws.

Every last weekend of the month, he would drive down to visit my maternal grandparents just to check on them. It didn’t matter if there was a special occasion or not. He made it a routine.

Those kinds of things stayed with me.

My dad would also call me aside from time to time and point things out. Sometimes he’d say something like, “You see how I handled that situation? That’s how you should do it when you’re running your own home.”

So by the time I got married, I already felt like I had about 90% of what to expect locked down.

Losing my mum almost broke me

The moment that truly tested me in marriage was when I lost my mum.

That was one of the worst periods of my life. I was close to both my parents, but I had a particularly strong bond with my mum. She used to say she waited a long time before giving birth to me because all my older siblings are women, so when I came along, she pampered me a lot.

After she died, I completely fell apart.

For months, I wasn’t myself. I stopped paying attention to my appearance. I was falling behind at work. Even at home, I was withdrawn and distant.

My wife tried to be patient at first, but by the second month, when she saw I was still stuck in that state, she involved my dad.

My dad would come around on weekends and try to talk to me. Sometimes he used the tough-love approach, but it didn’t really move me.

At some point, my wife also started withdrawing because she didn’t know how to help me anymore. Looking back now, I think that period could have seriously damaged our marriage.

It was actually the church that helped me navigate that grief and slowly find my way back.

My relationship with my mother-in-law became a problem

About a year after my mum died, I started getting very close to my mother-in-law.

She only has daughters, so she always refers to her sons-in-law as her sons. Around that time, I think I was still struggling with the absence of my mum, and my mother-in-law naturally filled some of that space.

She would call me and pray for me. Sometimes she’d ask me to stop by after work. We even work in the same industry, although she’s retired now, so we always had things to talk about.

At first, nobody saw a problem with it.

But one day, one of my wife’s sisters complained that I was spending too much time around their mum. My wife later brought it up with me, and I completely lost my temper.

I don’t even remember her exact words, but what I heard was that she didn’t trust me around her mother. We got into a loud argument and said a lot of hurtful things to each other. At some point, she even said something about my late mum that really hurt me, although I believe she said it in anger.

That argument sparked several other fights. After that, every interaction I had with my mother-in-law started to feel like something I had to justify. If I wanted to visit her, my wife insisted we go together. If I stopped by without telling her, it became an issue.

But the truth is, my mother-in-law genuinely helped me through my grief. She made me feel like I still had a mother figure praying for me and checking up on me.

At the same time, I could see why the situation looked unusual, especially because the other sons-in-law weren’t nearly as close to her. One of them even told me he only answers her calls when there’s a family gathering coming up.

Eventually, my dad stepped in and spoke to me. He told me something that stayed with me: it’s good to have a kind mother-in-law, but she’s still an in-law first, and that boundary must be respected.

Stepping back from my mother-in-law was the hardest adjustment

One of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in my marriage is reduce my closeness with my mother-in-law.

Even though both of us had innocent intentions, I can’t completely blame my wife for feeling uncomfortable. There are many stories about inappropriate relationships between sons-in-law and mothers-in-law, and even though that would never happen with us, I understand why the situation looked strange.

At some point, I had to accept something difficult: I don’t have a mother anymore, and no one can completely fill that role.

Letting go of that connection wasn’t easy because my mother-in-law had genuinely stepped into that space during my grief.

Now I’m more intentional about boundaries. If she calls, I often put the phone on speaker. I’ve reduced how often I visit her alone.

Sometimes she complains that I haven’t come to greet her in a while, and I’ll just give one excuse or the other. Most times, I prefer to visit when my wife is going, which might only happen once every few months.

It wasn’t an easy adjustment, but it’s something I had to do for the sake of my marriage.

Marriage has made me more careful and self-aware

If you compare the version of me before marriage to the version of me now, I’d say marriage has definitely changed me.

Before, I was very free-spirited. I didn’t overthink things. I believed life was simple and that people just complicated it unnecessarily. But marriage has taught me that things aren’t always black and white.

Just because you see things one way doesn’t mean everyone else will. Some people think deeply about actions and intentions in ways I never used to.

Through everything that has happened — grief, misunderstandings and all — I’ve had to learn patience and emotional awareness.

In that sense, I’d say marriage has made me a wiser version of myself.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

GridLocked is a daily pop culture guessing game built for Nigerians. Every weekday by 9am, you’ll get six clues, sixty seconds, and an answer only a Nigerian would know.

Today’s GridLocked is food.

How many clues do you need to get it right? 👀

Share your result when done, but don’t spoil the answer for others. (Missed yesterday’s GridLocked? Play it here.)

13 March 2026

Come back every weekday by 9am for a new grid or subscribe to Z Daily, Zikoko’s daily newsletter, to get new GridLocked puzzles, real Nigerian stories and other fun content in your inbox.

How to Play GridLocked

The Goal: Guess the answer for the day before time runs out. (The answer could be a Nigerian person, place, song, movie, or even slang.)
The Lock: You cannot type a guess until you have revealed at least one tile (clue).
The Reveal: Tap any tile to reveal a clue. Every clue describes the answer for the day. The fewer tiles you flip, the better.
The Clock: You have 60 seconds to guess right. The timer starts the moment you flip your first tile. (You get multiple guesses.)

The GridLocked Squares: What Do They Mean?

When the game ends, you see your guess count, total time spent, and the number of tiles flipped. The tiles are shown as white and purple squares.

⬜ (White) = A tile you flipped
🟪 (Purple) = A tile you left closed

The fewer white tiles you have, the better your result.

Best Result = ⬜🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 | Guesses: 1 (Only needed one clue and one guess to get it right)

Marilyn Madlion began writing at the age of seven and published her first book at just fifteen. Today, the 21-year-old Nigerian storyteller and author is steadily emerging as one of the most exciting young voices in the country’s growing digital storytelling space.

The rise of Marilyn Madlion first gained momentum through a 75-day storytelling challenge where she documented her journey as a writer and creative online. One moment that resonated deeply with her audience was a story about giving two chapters of her new book to a mentor who did not believe in God, an act that unexpectedly sparked curiosity and conversation about faith.

Her audience grew exponentially when Marilyn Madlion shared a video about reaching out to 1,000 brands in hopes she could tell stories for them. The bold idea struck a chord with creators and brands alike, and within five months, she had gained more than 23,000 new followers across her platforms.

After posting consistently for 75 days and completing the challenge, Marilyn Madlion began receiving recognition from notable voices in the creator space, including Salem King, the globally known content creator and speaker.

Rather than slowing down after the milestone, Marilyn leaned further into the momentum. Immediately after completing the challenge, Marilyn Madlion committed to an even bigger goal: 362 days of consecutive storytelling content, continuing to share insights on writing, creativity, and the discipline behind building a storytelling career online.

Her work sits at the intersection of personal development, creator education, and literature. This blend of storytelling and practical insight recently earned Marilyn Madlion recognition from Essence, which featured her on its list of “Black Women Creators Who Should Be on Your Radar.”

From the very first day of her storytelling series, Marilyn Madlion has been clear about her mission: to help her listeners become storytellers and authors themselves. Through daily lessons drawn from her own creative journey, she continues to inspire aspiring writers and content creators to share their stories with confidence.

Having grown up in Kaduna and Abuja before moving to Canada to study journalism, Marilyn Madlion draws from both her Nigerian roots and her diaspora experience. Her stories connect across cultures and geographies, using real-life moments to heal, educate, and inspire through relatability.

As her storytelling journey continues to unfold, Marilyn Madlion is quickly becoming one of the most recognizable young voices in Nigeria’s emerging storytelling and creator economy, inspiring a new generation of writers and digital storytellers.

GridLocked is a daily pop culture guessing game built for Nigerians. Every weekday by 9am, you’ll get six clues, sixty seconds, and an answer only a Nigerian would know.

Today’s GridLocked is an album.

How many clues do you need to get it right? 👀

Share your result when done, but don’t spoil the answer for others. (Missed yesterday’s GridLocked? Play it here.)

12 March 2026

PLAY NEXT GRID: Can You Guess The Food? (13 March 2026)

Come back every weekday by 9am for a new grid or subscribe to Z Daily, Zikoko’s daily newsletter, to get new GridLocked puzzles, real Nigerian stories and other fun content in your inbox.

How to Play GridLocked

The Goal: Guess the answer for the day before time runs out. (The answer could be a Nigerian person, place, song, movie, or even slang.)
The Lock: You cannot type a guess until you have revealed at least one tile (clue).
The Reveal: Tap any tile to reveal a clue. Every clue describes the answer for the day. The fewer tiles you flip, the better.
The Clock: You have 60 seconds to guess right. The timer starts the moment you flip your first tile. (You get multiple guesses.)

The GridLocked Squares: What Do They Mean?

When the game ends, you see your guess count, total time spent, and the number of tiles flipped. The tiles are shown as white and purple squares.

⬜ (White) = A tile you flipped
🟪 (Purple) = A tile you left closed

The fewer white tiles you have, the better your result.

Best Result = ⬜🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 | Guesses: 1 (Only needed one clue and one guess to get it right)

Where do you currently live, and when did you leave Nigeria?

You’re back in Nigeria?

Was that the first time you had left the country?

What inspired you to make that move?

What were you up to before you left Nigeria?

South Africa and Sri Lanka are sort of odd choices for Nigerians. It’s usually the UK and the US. Why were these the places you considered?

Did you plan to move permanently, or did you always have the aim of returning to Nigeria?

So you feel differently now?

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Wow. Let’s talk about Sri Lanka. What was it like?

You mentioned being married. Did your wife go with you?

Was that difficult for both of you?

What was life like for you in Sri Lanka?

Let’s talk about affordability. How did you afford your trip and stay?

What were your best experiences in Sri Lanka?

What were your favourite things about Sri Lanka?

Sounds like a great place, but what didn’t you like?

So the racism did not impact your view of the country?

You mentioned wanting to go back. Are you exploring immigration opportunities to Sri Lanka or elsewhere?

On a scale of one to ten, how happy were you in Sri Lanka?

How long have you been with your partner?

Tell me more about how you met

Why didn’t you consider her?

Interesting. What was Sola’s financial situation like when you got together?

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Do you mean your stepdaughter didn’t always live with you both?

Why were you against the idea?

That’s an interesting way to look at it. Does your wife know about your concerns?

How do you both run your home’s finances?

Do you have a budget for relationship expenses, like dates and gifts?

Do you both have financial safety nets?

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

When did you first realise the importance of money?

Tell me more

What was the first thing you did to earn money?

How did you go about this?

I’m screaming. How much did you make from that first gig?

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Uh oh. What happened?

Did you accept?

Get it! What did he say?

Not bad for a student. What were your spending habits like?

Love to see it

Wasn’t that a lot to juggle? Also, you haven’t mentioned school in a while.

I’m curious, how did your mum react to that?

Do you think it was worth it to drop out so close to the finish line, though?

What does your monthly income look like these days?

Those are big dreams. Let’s talk about the life your income affords you right now

Walk me through what your monthly budget looks like

How about your investment portfolio?

How would you describe your relationship with money?

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning?

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

Curious, do you sometimes wish you’d completed school?

Start the morning strong with a shower

Target the trouble zones

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Stay hydrated, stay fresh

Have a mid-day reset

Wind down with an evening cleanse

Here’s the bottom line

When the Informal Sector Collapses, Women Fall First

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Gender-Based Violence Cases Are on The Rise

The Healthcare System Is Killing Women

The Gender Gap in Nigeria Refuses to Close

Tinubu, why did you lie?

What’s the Way Forward?

As Told To Boluwatife

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READ NEXT: Why Are Nigerian Pop Albums So Forgettable These Days?

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ALSO READ: What Billboard’s “One-Hit Wonder” Label On Rema Reveals About the Nigerian Music Industry

I grew up looking forward to marriage

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I felt prepared for marriage because of my upbringing

Losing my mum almost broke me

My relationship with my mother-in-law became a problem