For some Nigerians, becoming financially comfortable didn’t automatically erase the habits and mindsets they developed while growing up with very little. Even though they can now afford things they once only dreamed about, some purchases still feel excessive, wasteful or impossible to justify.

We asked high-earning Nigerians who grew up poor about the luxuries they still refuse to spend money on. Here’s what they said.

“I can’t bring myself to buy designer clothes” — Lydia*, 51, F

I grew up in a family of seven kids in a village in Ondo. The only siblings who regularly got brand new clothes were my eldest brother and sister. The rest of us got their hand-me-downs, and we didn’t die. 

Today, I’m a tailor, and I make more money than I ever imagined I would. Along with my husband’s income as an accountant, I can afford designer bags and clothes if I want to, but I just can’t justify spending that kind of money on clothes. Even for aso-ebi, I squeeze my face to pay if it costs more than ₦50K. My daughters tease me and say I’m a bush woman, but I don’t mind.

I enjoy fashion and appreciate quality, but I don’t think luxury labels are worth the price. I’d rather buy something of great quality that won’t break the bank. After all, the logo won’t bring me more customers, so it just feels like a waste.

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“I refuse to fly when a bus can take me” — David*, 38, M

My family didn’t have much growing up. My father used to work as a welder but had to retire after an eye injury. My mum’s business is what kept us together. In my childhood, whenever I followed my mother to buy goods for her provision shop in Calabar, we would take a night bus to whatever state she was carting goods from. I’m used to it, and I don’t mind taking public transportation.

Even now, although my printing business is doing very well, I still find it hard to spend excessively on travel. The most I’ve done is pay for two seats if I’m going on a long trip. I was 32 the first time I travelled by air, and I didn’t pay for it.  A client wanted me to attend his wedding in Abuja, and he paid for my flight and hotel.

My wife and two children travel often, and I don’t mind paying for their flights, but if it’s within the country, I’d rather go by bus. Especially with the ridiculous price of flight tickets, it actually pains me when I pay for a ticket for myself. I’ve tried to convince my wife to join me, but she hates travelling by road. I think she’s just being dramatic; the destination is the same.

“I don’t order food unless I’m sick” — Esther*, 33, F

Growing up, I only ate Mr Biggs once on one of my birthdays. My mum cooked every meal because eating outside was considered wasteful. We had a strict meal timetable, and we only rotated between rice, beans, yams, swallows and eggs with stews or soups to accompany them. On special occasions, like birthdays or Christmas, we had meat or chicken. I always looked forward to Ileya celebrations because a big muslim chief would share deep-fried ram meat with all the families on our street.

I now work as a virtual assistant and earn a decent income. Most of my friends order food several times a week, but I can’t. The delivery fee alone ruins my appetite. I’ll only order food if I’m too ill to cook, and even then, it feels like I’m wasting money.

Even after a long day, I’d rather cook noodles and eggs than spend ₦5k at once ordering food. I know convenience has value, but I still hear my mother’s voice telling me, “There’s rice at home.”

“I don’t see the point of household staff” — Bayo*, 48, M

I spent most of my childhood and teens living with my rich uncle in Ibadan. I was essentially the house boy, and I did all the chores while he paid for my education. It wasn’t easy, but I survived.

Now, I sell cars for a living, and I can afford domestic staff, but if I had my way, we wouldn’t have any. My wife forced me to get a cleaner, and I struggled with the idea because it felt so wasteful. 

I believe my three kids can do any chores we need done around the house. It’ll teach them grit and discipline like I learned growing up. I finally agreed to getting a cleaner but insisted that she can’t live with us, so she comes in a few times a week. It just feels strange paying someone to do tasks I’ve done my entire life. It won’t break the kids’ hands to clean the house, but I want peace in my house. 

I put my foot down when she said she wanted a cook, though. We cook together in bulk and freeze it. I don’t mind helping. Why should we keep giving money to people when we have hands?

“I won’t buy human hair with my money” — Halima*, 28, F

From when I was a baby until I finished secondary school, my sisters and I wore low-cut hairstyles because my parents often couldn’t afford braids. I remember often fantasising about having long weaves like Genevieve Nnaji or Rita Dominic.

After uni, I got a great job as a social media manager, and one of the first things I tried to buy was a human hair wig. The number of zeroes I saw almost made me faint. That was when I knew that even if I became richer than Dangote, I wouldn’t give any vendor ₦350k or ₦500k for a human hair wig. Even my ₦80k synthetic wigs feel like a splurge. 

I enjoy looking good, but I don’t want my entire salary going into maintaining an image. I’d rather have money sitting in my account than wear something expensive that everyone will forget about once I leave.

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