From YouTube videos on Forex to ₦50k courses on copywriting, the internet is full of people promising to teach you how to make money, even if you have no skill. But good editing and big grammar aren’t enough to make anyone pay ₦100k for an e-book. What really sells is a financial success story: screenshots of 2M credit alerts, expensive wigs, and a brand-new GLE.
Unfortunately, behind most of those screenshots is a history of bad money decisions. For every woman who cashed out from crypto, there’s another who lost her house rent to Forex. Money wins are easy to post, but money mistakes can be embarrassing to talk about.
In this article, four Nigerian women share their experiences with fraud, debt, and financial mistakes that nearly took their lives.
“I Joined a Toxic Thrift Collective “— Oma*20
I had a roommate who used to talk about how being part of an Ajo (thrift) was how she was able to afford the expensive wigs, clothing and other items that she had. I thought if she, someone who didn’t even have a job, could do it, I could too. I was earning money, even though I was freelancing.
There were two options for the thrift: ₦12,000 every 12 days or ₦6000 every 12 days. The payout for the ₦12k option was bigger. So, even though it was my first time, I went for that option. I didn’t have a stable income, yet every 12 days, I would produce that money without fail. Sometimes I wouldn’t have the ₦12k, but some miracle would happen at the last minute, and I’d pay the money.
It started to go wrong the one time I didn’t have the money to pay. Typically, on the last day of the 12-day window, the handler would start sending messages to the group chat. She would say that the person who is to collect their money that day is on her neck, and everyone should pay up. She would insult and tag people who hadn’t paid.
That day, I stayed cooped up in my room, hoping that no one would notice I hadn’t paid. Then I started to get numerous calls and threats from people in the group saying that they would find me and deal with me. I was tagged repeatedly, and the person who invited my roommate to the Ajo group came to my DM to beg me to pay. She said if I didn’t pay, the handler would post her pictures all over the internet, labelling her a thief and a fraud.
Apparently, at the beginning of the Ajo, everyone sent their pictures as proof of trust, promising not to disappear after getting their money. I wasn’t asked for my picture, but I think it was because I was the last person to join.
It was very traumatic. I called all the people I could call who could lend me money, and eventually had to use someone else’s money that was kept with me to pay up. I’m just so glad that they didn’t have my picture to post.
I waited patiently till the Ajo was over to get my money, then I deleted the group and blocked everyone who had contacted me. After a few weeks, that same roommate texted me that they wanted me to join another Ajo. Once bitten? Twice shy. Anything that I cannot save in my VFD bank or on PiggyVest does not deserve to be saved.
Given the chance to start over, I wouldn’t even join in the first place. What I learnt from this experience is that even if you must do Ajo, do it with people that you know and share mutual respect with. If you don’t know the people doing it personally, don’t join it. Instead, start one with your friends, and please be kind. But me and Ajo? We can never cross paths again in this lifetime. Never.
“I started a business and ended up eating all my goods” – Mirabelle* 51
In 2022, I decided to start a business because I was tired of being a full-time housewife who did not have her own income. I decided I was going to open a food-stuff store because I saw in a dream that I would prosper if I sold foodstuffs. After my pastor confirmed this, I began to badger my family until they contributed ₦500k for me to start the business. They gave me the money on the condition that I wouldn’t come to them with financial issues till the end of that year.
We live in a remote part of town, but because I have health issues, I can’t open a business too far from home, the daily commute alone would be too much for me. My husband told me that it would be a bad idea to open a store so far from town, but he’s never supportive of my business ventures, so I can never tell when he’s being helpful with criticism or trying to talk me out of something that has the potential to succeed.
I added my savings to the money my family gave me and opened a small store opposite the estate we live in, and like my husband predicted, traffic was very slow. Around that time, I had gotten close to a woman in my church whom I confided in about my business struggles. She advised me to add drinks to the things I sell. Conveniently, she and her husband sold drinks.
After that conversation, she started to sell wholesale drinks to me at retail prices. I would then resell these drinks, but I didn’t realise that I was losing money because I was reselling at my cost price and bearing the transportation costs. But I didn’t investigate those losses out of gratitude; they were selling the drinks to me on credit.
At the same time, I was buying bags, shoes and clothes from them on credit too, with the promise that I would pay back when my business became successful. After a while, family friends started patronising me, and the business picked up, but I was putting the profits I made from the business in my personal account. At some point, I did not know which money was for my business and which one was for me; I was spending it all together.
I would take bags of rice and oil from my store when we needed food at home, but my husband would not pay for these things. At some point, we were eating half of the goods in the shop, and I was selling half.
By the end of the year, my shop was empty and I had no capital left. I moved what was left of the goods to my house and closed the shop. At that point, I had racked up a ₦400k debt with that woman and her husband. They started to call me incessantly and leave me threatening messages. I stopped going to church or leaving the house because they lived in the neighbourhood and would see me. I fell violently ill, and I hid it from my husband until they threatened to expose me in front of all our church members. It took my mother and me half a year to finish paying the debt.
I have learned the hard way that if something looks too good to be true, it probably is.
“I Slept Off And Lost 250k on My First Forex Trade” – Ewa* 21
I started trading because someone shared on their Snapchat story that it was laughably easy to make money from Forex. For the people interested, he created a group and charged 80k as a joining fee. He was going to be dropping signals on when to buy and sell in the group, and all I had to do to cash out was follow his signals on when to buy or sell on a trade.
The offer was too good to pass up, so I paid and downloaded the trading app. Little did I know that even with a signal, you can’t make money from trading if you don’t know the basics. You won’t be able to tell when to enter a trade, how to spot a wrong signal, how to put a stop-loss or recognize when you’re making a high-risk trade with an account that can’t withstand the loss.
He told me to put ₦100k in my trading account, and then he sent a signal. I made a big trade with just ₦100k in my account. I closed my eyes and took a short nap. When I woke up, I found out that the trade had dipped and all my money was gone.
I told myself not to panic, and it was just because I had slept and that I would make the money I lost with my next trade. The next day, I put another ₦50k in the account, and I lost it again. It was after the third loss that I stopped and asked myself what the hell I was doing. Mind you, this money was money I was supposed to use for my project.
I was very depressed. I’m just lucky that I had another job that paid me 50k and that I got another 50k cash gift. Eventually, I had to go home to confess and beg my mother for money.
After those losses, I stepped back and went to learn how to trade. Whoever told you that you can trade without having serious skills and mad resistance to high blood pressure is lying to you. I only trade occasionally these days, and till today, I don’t trade on Tuesdays because that incident happened on a Tuesday.
“I Borrowed Money From Opay to Eat” – Kiki* 23
Earlier this year, I had to go back to school, and I was flat-out broke. I had no way to cover my feeding, rent, data, transport, and the rest of my bills. I saw the option to take a loan on the Opay app, and out of desperation, I applied for one. It wasn’t a lot of money; just enough to cover my transportation and feeding for a short period while I figured out a more permanent solution.
The minute the loan (about ₦20k) went through, I realised that I’d made a mistake by not thinking about how I was going to pay back the money I’d borrowed. It was too late to return the loan once they gave me the money, because I would have to pay the interest regardless of whether I paid it back instantly or on the given date.
The anxiety from the loan ate me up from the first day I took it till the day it was due. That loan did not solve my problems; it just became another thing I had to deal with on top of all my other pending bills. I was hungry, tired, losing sleep, living in a shitty apartment, and I owed Opay.
As the due date came closer, my anxiety grew worse. At some point, I was so sure I was going to kill myself because of how bad it was. I had no money, and I was in debt for God’s sake.
The worst feeling in the world is probably being a debtor. If you don’t know how you’ll pay back a loan, please don’t take it. You will cry blood. It won’t solve your problems; it will just give you one more thing to worry about. Till now, I’ve still not been able to pay back that money.
