Ohunene* (26) studied computer science because a career in tech felt like a safe ticket to the future.
Four years after graduation, she is not working in tech. Instead, she teaches full-time, runs a few side gigs, and watches as the global tech job market shrinks entry-level opportunities while former classmates earn foreign salaries.
She often wonders if it is too late to start all over.
As told to Aisha Bello
Since I was about 8 years old, everyone around me had been calling me Doctor Ohunene. It was collective gaslighting, and I actively participated.
But the illusion collapsed the moment I entered senior secondary school and joined the science class. I had to be honest with myself: I hated the sight of blood. The thought of holding someone’s flesh, or someone’s life, of fighting to revive a dying patient felt overwhelming. It was a burden I simply wasn’t built for.
On the flip side, I excelled in mathematics. An all-around A-student. So when it was finally time to choose a university programme, I boldly selected Computer Science. Everyone was shocked.
I wasn’t blind to the economy. I knew doctors made money, at least that was my notion at the time, but I wanted a successful career without the clinical trauma.
It was 2017. My older brother was in his final year studying Computer Science, and he constantly reassured me that the future was digital. Following in his footsteps made sense. He understood how the world worked better than I did. Besides, I was good at math. I figured coding was numbers and logic. How hard could it be?
I smashed my O-levels, scored 265/400 in JAMB, cleared every admission screening, and got offered Computer Science on my first try.
At the time, in 2017, Nigeria’s tech ecosystem was still finding its feet. It was not yet the booming sector it is today. I didn’t have grand foresight, but it felt good to be standing on what looked like solid ground.
Coding on Paper and the Reality of Uni
When I got into University, there was no specialisation — no distinct Software Engineering, Data Science or Cybersecurity track. Everything was lumped under Computer Science, and we were expected to learn it all.
I started strong, hitting a 3.9 CGPA in my first year. But sustaining that momentum required endless nights, brutal reading sessions, and sheer willpower. And here’s the craziest part: I didn’t own a laptop until my final year.
How do you study Computer Science without a computer? You memorise frameworks. You write lines of code on plain paper. Because of this, I never developed real, practical tech skills. What I had was a deep theoretical understanding of how everything worked, and I knew how to pass exams.
In 2022, I graduated with a 3.65 CGPA, narrowly avoiding a second-class lower. The degree was in my hands. The practical skills were not.
Entering a Broken Job Market
By the time I was ready to enter the workforce in 2023, the tech bubble had boomed, and for juniors, it had seemingly burst.
My NYSC year was a slow-burning anxiety. I looked at every domain I had theoretically studied and couldn’t find one that wasn’t already saturated. I understood basic coding concepts, but that was nowhere near enough to pass a technical interview or break into the industry. Sitting at home waiting for a tech job that may never come wasn’t an option.
I was posted to a private school for my Place of Primary Assignment (PPA). The government paid ₦33,000; the school added ₦80,000. Earning over ₦110,000 as a corper was decent, and, as it turned out, I got along well with the students. So when my service year ended in June 2024, the school offered to keep me as full-time staff and bumped my salary to ₦150,000. I took it.
Living with my parents shielded me from rent and major household expenses, but personal bills, transportation, and daily costs bled into that ₦150k, leaving very little room to save.
The Cost of Waiting
Early in 2025, the school raised my salary to ₦180,000. For the most part, I’d made my peace with where my job was. It was honest work, and I was good at it.
Then I’d open LinkedIn, and the peace would shatter.
Classmates I shared lecture halls with were working for world-class brands in Dubai, the UK, and the US — some fully remote, earning thousands of dollars and sharing big wins. It stung because I could now see clearly what they had been doing while I was just trying to pass exams: they were setting themselves up. Specialising. Taking online courses. Picking up freelance gigs.
I’ll be honest, I blame myself. I watched my mates grind and hustle. I saw them making money. But I naively assumed I’d figure it out after graduation. Instead, I got swept into the great unknown. Time moved violently fast, and I never had the luxury of pausing to recalibrate.
Searching for a Way Out
I am actively trying to pivot. At the start of 2025, I completed a Virtual Assistant course, hoping to leverage my natural flair for organisation and admin work. It landed me one client — a three-month contract at ₦120,000 per month. When it ended, it wasn’t renewed.
Now I’m constantly hunting for remote gigs I can stack alongside my teaching job. I run a small thrift business on the side that brings in a little extra. I’m decent at data entry and admin, and I want to upskill further. But I’m stuck between two walls: no time, and fear of the unknown.
Is it worth sinking months into learning a new tech stack when the market is this saturated? At 26, does it even make sense to chase entry-level internships? That’s the question I ask daily
My older brother, the one who nudged me toward Computer Science in the first place, now works in a bank, boxed into corporate life. I look at him and know that’s not what I want.
But if I’m being real? I’m still figuring out what I do want. For now, I’m just trying to make sure the market doesn’t eat me alive before I find my footing. Somewhere out there is the right ladder. I just have to find it before it’s too late.
