Every Nollywood movie has that one character who makes you go “God forbid I ever cross paths with this human in real life.” Now imagine worse: you don’t just cross paths with them, you live with them. One room, one fridge, one shared bathroom, no escape.
Some of these characters will die for you. Some will get you arrested. A few will do both in the same week. We calculated the odds of you making it out alive (or at least out of debt) if any of these Nollywood icons became your roommate.
He will keep on borrowing 500 naira from you until one day he shows up to the house with a new iPhone, home appliances and a huge cash gift for you. You’ll never know what he does for a living but your life will be consistently bankrolled until one night EFCC raids your apartment and you find yourself on their twitter page holding a whiteboard trying to explain yourself.
This will be the strictest roommate you will have. Everything will be split 50-50, even if it’s a pack of biscuits and you will be forced to speak proper English in the house, no pidgin. He will also refuse to eat eba with his hands, a fork only.
He will be running a very suspicious business from your room where people bring their dead friends and relatives to him to resurrect. You won’t question it because at least it brings money until one day you find out he’s been secretly getting with your girlfriend.
Clara will bring you all the gist from the minister”s office. But she’ll collect bribes from all your visitors before she’ll let them into the room and when you complain she will lock the kitchen until you bribe her and apologize.
She’ll spend half of the time swooning over Eli, they’ll be on the phone doing “you hang up, no you hang up” while you’re trying to sleep. The other half of her time will be spent picking the most outrageous outfits while singing iconic Igbo songs. Three nights a week you’ll have to leave the house so she and Eli can celebrate one new anniversary or the other.
She will be a loyal roommate but will always bring one problem or another to the room because of the lies she likes telling. One day you’ll stumble on her diary and read it out of curiosity, in it you’ll find out her plans to leave Shege and travel abroad.
She will be the most put together roommate you’ll have and her organization skills might make you jealous but you’ll be at peace because her love life is a mess. Everyday she’ll be gisting you about a man she doesn’t want to marry. Then one day she’ll show up with a white man who doesn’t play about jollof rice and Davido.
Adire will rarely be around but she will always make you the sexiest fits and invite you to the club. One day you’ll complain about how bad sex is with your sneaky link and she’ll buy you your first sex toy that will change your life.
Kemi is ready to die for you as your roommate. No matter the problem you bring to her, she will never say you’re the one at fault and will always come up with a solution for you. Her loyalty might scare you sometimes but you know she’s always on your side no matter what—even if you bring a dead body.
Some days Ishaya will be the best roommate ever, other days he’ll bring trouble to your doorstep and you’ll find yourself running from gang members by 12am one random day. He’ll try to appease you by gifting you a beautiful portrait that you’ll grudgingly accept until another problem rolls around.
Every week, Zikoko spotlights the unfiltered stories of women navigating life, love, identity and everything in between.
What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.
The subject of today’s #WhatSheSaid is Adaeze*, a 48-year-old businesswoman based in Port Harcourt. She married one brother, and decades later, she is still not sure it was the right one. She knows people will judge her for this story. She says go ahead. Nobody was in her shoes.
Can you tell me about yourself?
I am Adaeze. I am 48 years old, and I live in Port Harcourt. I run a small business, a fabric and clothing store that I have had for many years now. I am a widow and a mother of four.
I grew up in a modest home. My parents were not wealthy, but they were decent, and they tried. There were two of us, two daughters, and they made sure we both finished school and university. It was a simple, happy childhood. I did not grow up wanting for love, even if we sometimes wanted for things. I always knew that after school came marriage and family. That was just how I was raised, and I accepted it. I was not lazy, I could sew, I could do hair, I knew how to generate income if I needed to, but I was wife and mother first in my heart. That has always been true.
What was your life like when you started university?
I was 19, and I remember being fresh. It was my first year at uni, and my first time really away from home, finding my feet and my place in society without my family. As I already said, I came from a simple household; my parents were not wealthy people, but they were good people. So I was not spoiled, but they really tried to provide for me. Our fees were paid every year, including hostel accommodation. What they couldn’t always give us was pocket money, which is why I started making hair in the hostel and sewing so I could feed my sister and myself. Eventually, I made enough to buy a machine. Other than that, I remember being happy, open and ready for a higher education.
That is where everything started, yes. It’s where I met these two brothers on campus. They came from a big family with 12 children in Port Harcourt. They had not grown up with money, quite the opposite, actually, but their oldest brother, Sotonjo*, the first son in their family, had built something significant in shipping and oil services over the years and had begun pulling his siblings into it. By the time I encountered these two, the family was already in a comfortable financial position. The oldest brother, Sotonjo, was revered in the family. His word was law. He funded them, and they knew it, and they behaved accordingly.
How did you come to know them?
The older of the two, Emeka*, found me first. He was 28, in his final year, and was really only on campus to defend his project before he left. But he was the kind of man who went after what he wanted. He spotted me somewhere near the faculty buildings, introduced himself, and asked for my number. He was confident and direct. He liked that I was Igbo like his mother; he told me that later. He started calling, took me out once or twice. I enjoyed the attention, and I must admit that he was a fine man with Ego.
And the younger brother?
Here is the thing. What Emeka did not know was that his younger brother Chidi*, who was 25 and in his third year, had already been aware of me for months. Since I first arrived on campus. We had seen each other around, had even ended up in a few of the same courses, but Chidi had never approached me. He had always been quieter, more reserved and content to just observe.
So the day Emeka brought me along and introduced me to his brother, imagine how that went. Chidi looked at him and said, “We already know each other.” Even I could hear the defensiveness in his voice and see the anger in his eyes. By then, we had even been put in the same assignment group. Emeka noticed the way Chidi looked at me. He said nothing. He was older, already earning from their brother’s business; he figured he had the better position.
What happened when Emeka left after his project defence?
He moved on to work, and Chidi used every single day he had left on campus. That is what I did not fully understand until later. He was deliberate about it. He was calm, where Emeka was loud, soft-spoken where his brother was forceful. He had gentle eyes and a patience that I had never encountered in a man before. He remembered things I said in passing. He showed up consistently without making noise about it. By his final year, we had started dating properly. It had not been rushed. It had just become obvious.
How did his family receive the news?
Kasala. There is no other word for it.
When Chidi went to his older brother, Sotonjo, to say he wanted to marry me, the house went up in flames. Emeka was furious. He felt I was his, that he had seen me first, that his younger brother had gone behind him. He was breaking things. He said he had been planning to come back for me. But where had he been in all those years since he left campus? Spending his new money on other women and enjoying himself while Chidi was here, present, and building something real with me.
It took their Sotonjo completely putting his foot down. He issued what I can only describe as a decree. And then, because this family does nothing in simple terms, they actually asked me directly which of them I wanted to marry. I was 23. Chidi was 29. I chose my boyfriend. I chose the man I loved.
How did Emeka take that?
He never fully got over it. He married by the end of that same year, brought a woman home and started his own family. But the resentment sat in him. He was not a gentle man at home, not easy with his wife or his children. He had something of the oldest brother’s energy in him, that belief that being the man in the room entitled you to run it however you pleased. He could be harsh. Tyrannical even.
And Sotonjo, what was he like to live around?
He was the kind of man who reminded you constantly, without always saying it directly, that you existed within something he had built. He funded many of his siblings’ children’s school fees and some of their spouses’ businesses, yes. He opened a store for me before things between him and Chidi eventually soured. I ran it, and I was grateful. But his generosity always came with a weight you felt. He spoke to people anyhow. He said whatever he liked and expected everyone to absorb it because he was paying for the ground they stood on. Most of the siblings did absorb it because what choice did they have?
How did Chidi navigate that?
He pulled away slowly. The way he did everything. He had been building his own funds on the side, his own footing, and somewhere around ten or twelve years into our marriage, their oldest brother said something to him that crossed a line. Chidi warned him calmly and clearly never to speak to him like that again. And then he moved us. Got his own house, built completely separately from anything the family had provided. Something shifted after that; even Emeka looked at him differently.
What was your marriage like during all of this?
It was a good marriage. I want to say that and mean it because it is true. Chidi was kind to me and to our children. We had four boys, the last two of whom were twins. He was not a perfect man, but he was a present one, and he made me feel protected without making me feel small. I was wife and mother first in those years, and I did not resent that. It was what I had always wanted. We had our life, and it was ours.
Then everything changed 5 years ago.
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We were hit by a trailer, my husband, I and the children. The children and I escaped with minor injuries, but Chidi died.
He was the youngest in his family, and everyone was genuinely shaken. He was the calm one, the one people actually liked underneath all the politics of that house. When he died, everything moved very quickly in ways I was not prepared for.
I am so sorry for your loss. What do you mean by things moved quickly?
Sotonjo came up with ideas almost immediately for managing Chidi’s trucks and business interests on my behalf. I understood what that meant. I had watched this family for twenty-five years. I knew exactly how they operated. I got lawyers involved. Sotonjo was not pleased. He made a remark, something to the effect that I would understand the value of family when things got difficult. He eventually let it go, but I knew the temperature had changed between us.
Emeka came with condolences like everyone else. But he stayed longer and called more. He found reasons to be present, to help, to check in. I was grieving and exhausted, managing four children and now, 2 businesses I was struggling to run alone, and Sotonjo was applying pressure about the trucks.
I eventually handed the trucks and the business interests back to Sotonjo. It was too much to manage on my own, and I needed peace more than I needed that particular fight. I know people will say I should have held on. They were not in my house at two in the morning.
And Emeka?
He kept showing up. At first, weekly, then he started spacing it out to monthly. Gradually, and then entirely after a year, he became a constant at the house. He found his way back into my life, and I’m sorry to say I let him. I am not going to lie or try to make what we’ve done more acceptable. He still has his family, his wife and children, and I have my life, but I was so tired, and I could not fight him. The relationship between us now is what it is, alongside everything else.
What does that mean? How do you make sense of it?
I am not sure I do entirely. I ask myself questions I do not always have answers to. I think about the sequence of things. Emeka was the one who came for me first. He was the one who saw me and moved. Sometimes, in quiet moments, I have thought about what my life might have looked like if things had gone differently at the beginning.
Chidi was good to me, and I loved him, and I do not regret our life together. But I would be lying if I said I never wonder.
I know how that sounds. I know what people will say. But nobody was in my shoes. Nobody knows what it is to be me, to have lived this particular life in this particular way. So I say it anyway. What is there to lose at this point?
At least we have a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs; I can feed my children, and their inheritance from their father will cover all their fees until they are done with school. Additionally, there is a father figure for them.
What about Emeka’s wife? Is she okay with this?
Of course not. It was a big fight, but she’s a woman as am I, and this is a man’s world. The family says if he can handle the two of us, who is anyone to stop him? His wife refuses to leave this safety net, and I will remain at least until all my children have finished university.
Everybody is managing everyone.
What do you want women to take from your story?
Nobody truly knows what it is like to be inside another person’s life. Nobody. I stopped explaining myself a long time ago.
The Naira Life Conference is returning on August 22, 2026, this weekend, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders and join unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. Secure your spot here.
Abuja is underwater again. Naturally, Nigerians have one question: Minister Wike, what is going on?
On Saturday, August 15, heavy rainfall turned parts of Wuse 2, Gudu, and Lokogoma in the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Abuja, into giant overflowing bathtubs.
The flooding affected roads and neighbourhoods, leaving residents and motorists stranded. The thing is, this year’s flooding didn’t exactly arrive without notice.
The Nigeria Meteorological Agency had warned about the risk of flooding during the 2026 rainy season, while the Nigeria Hydrological Services Agency had already given us a preview of what the year would look like. So Abuja wasn’t caught completely unaware.
So, why is Abuja flooded, then?
Well, it’s a bit complicated. But we’re here to give you the rundown of the whole shebang.
First, Abuja is supposed to be a very green city. It wasn’t designed to be just another city where you pour concrete everywhere and hope the rain behaves itself.
The city’s original planning incorporated green belts, parks, wetlands, ecological corridors and other open spaces. These weren’t there to make Abuja look pretty in drone shots. They were made to absorb rainwater and help reduce the pressure on drainage systems, as confirmed by the United States Environmental Protection Agency.
A 2022 study by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) on flooding in Nigeria identified several factors contributing to flooding, including building on green areas, waterways, and flood-prone land; and dumping refuse in drainage channels. Bad news is; Abuja is a prime example of how some of these factors can play out.
That means where we build things matters when it rains. And to most Nigerians, Wike is the master builder of Abuja at the moment, and at the very least, he should know what’s up.
Abuja has been building a lot of things
A June 2026 analysis by The Guardian raised concerns about the loss of Abuja’s forests, wetlands, green belts and other areas originally intended to help balance urban development with the environment.
We checked and found out this concern isn’t new.
In October 2025, the Housing Development Advocacy Network asked Wike to stop the conversion of Abuja’s designated green areas, saying areas in places like Guzape, Maitama, Wuse, Katampe and Kado had been cleared or built upon.
The group said that the obstruction of natural water channels and environmental buffers is causing increasing flooding and other environmental problems.
Earlier this year, lawyer Deji Adeyanju also criticised the minister for allocating a designated green area in Maitama Extension for the construction of duplexes. This was after developers allegedly started converting a natural canal into an access road in the area.
This sounds concerning, but there’s an important question we need to answer.
Has the way Abuja is being developed and managed under Wike made the city more vulnerable to flooding?
Environmental preservation expert Bartholomew Ndulue said not really.
“A major cause of flooding in Abuja recently is the obstruction of natural water bodies. And one thing important in urban planning is hydrological studies, which is the study of the natural flow of waters. So a sustainable environmental development should be guided by aligning the development to natural water bodies. Abuja is not doing much of that.”
It also doesn’t help that Abuja’s drainage system is not particularly equipped to handle heavy rainfall. Because if the capital city loses some green spaces, good drainage can still reduce the damage.
The FCT Administration has undertaken several infrastructure projects, including drainage-related works.
But still, the question people are asking is whether the existing drainage network is adequate for the pace and pattern of Abuja’s development.
And whether those drains are being properly maintained.
Because a beautiful drainage channel that is blocked with rubbish is basically just expensive decoration.
Wike didn’t create the problem… But
Abuja has always had flood risks. Heavy rainfall, drainage capacity, urban expansion, blocked waterways and poor waste management can all contribute to flooding.
In June, the Federal Government also issued flood warnings concerning 28 states, including the FCT, as heavy rainfall was expected to continue.
And the latest flooding followed very heavy rainfall. Reports from the weekend specifically described drainage channels being overwhelmed by the volume of water.
But here’s where things get interesting.
The Big Daily is your weekday shortcut to the biggest news shaping Nigeria. We cut through the noise, connect the dots, and explain why the news actually matters, all in one quick read.
Wike has been the FCT Minister since 2023. That means he is responsible for the administration currently overseeing the territory’s physical planning, infrastructure and development.
And his administration has made the Abuja Master Plan a major part of its agenda.
Also, in July, the Presidency spoke about restoring the master plan, tackling illegal development and reclaiming spaces that were improperly occupied.
But it doesn’t seem as though these intentions have been shown in the minister’s actions.
Environmental preservation expert Ndulue said green spaces do not mean spaces where people can start farming or construction.
“Green areas look good if you see them from afar, but closely, you’ll see there are wetlands. So, following the master plan of the FCT, there should not be blockage of water channels along these areas.”
He said water will always find its way, even when you block it, so the only solution is to open the channels.
Meanwhile, in June, the Real Estate Developers Association of Nigeria’s FCT chapter warned that Abuja could grow without sacrificing its green spaces and called for development to comply with the city’s master plan.
So, whatever the minister has been doing about flooding since 2023 needs to be looked into. Because the problem still exists despite the hundreds of millions received.
Sorry, didn’t we have dedicated money to solve this?
Abuja’s flooding is happening after billions of naira were released from Nigeria’s Ecological Fund to tackle environmental problems, including flooding.
Daily Trust reported that ₦1.24 billion was disbursed between June 2023 and December 2025 to sub-national governments, including the FCT, to solve challenges like flooding, the very issue that Abuja residents are currently suffering from.
Sure, this doesn’t mean the money was wasted or that the FCT received a particular amount and failed to use it properly.
But it does make us curious. How much of that money went into preventing the kind of flooding Abuja is experiencing now?
Wike and others
Every piece of evidence points to a combination of factors like intense rainfall, rapid urbanisation caused by population growth and unplanned development, drainage challenges, development around environmentally sensitive areas and the loss or obstruction of natural spaces that can help manage stormwater.
But Wike isn’t completely off the hook either.
As the person currently in charge of the FCT’s administration, he has a responsibility to make sure Abuja’s development does not turn the city’s natural flood-management systems into construction sites.
Someone needs to tell him that Abuja doesn’t need only roads, flyovers and shiny buildings; it needs somewhere for all that rain to go.
And if the city’s green spaces and waterways keep disappearing, the rain will continue to find its way to the roads and our homes.
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 a book.
How many clues do you need to get it right? 👀
Share your result when done, but don’t spoil the answer for others. (Missed the last GridLocked? Play it here.)
19 August 2026
Guess The Book01:00
Title
Guesses: 0
00:00
How To Play
The Goal: Guess the answer for the day before time runs out. (The answer could be a person, place, song, movie, or even slang.)
The Lock: You cannot type a guess until you have revealed at least one tile.
The Reveal: Tap any tile to reveal a clue. Every clue on the grid describes the answer for the day.
The Clock: You have 60 seconds to guess right. The timer starts the moment you flip your first tile. (You get multiple guesses.)
The Score: ⬜ (White) = A tile you flipped 🟪 (Purple) = A tile you kept hidden.
Best Result = ⬜🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 | Guesses: 1 (Only needed one clue and one guess to get it right)
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 oneclue and oneguess to get it right)
Dating an older, wealthier man can come with perks, but sometimes the price is far more than expected. Inspired by the latest installment in the Zikoko Life series, A Happy Ending, we asked Nigerian women to tell us about the experiences they didn’t see coming when they started dating sugar daddies.
“I lost my chance to go to nursing school” — Rofiah* 27
My career would look different today if I hadn’t gotten involved with a married man at 19. I’d stayed with my uncle while waiting to get into nursing school after missing the first admission cycle. When I first met him in 2018, we had a respectful relationship, and I saw him as a helper. Then he started sending me money. I once told him I wanted to eat out and he sent me ₦100k. Eventually, we started having sex.
A few months later, his wife found out and contacted my uncle. It was a small town, and she happened to patronise his business. My uncle was furious. He reported me to my parents and made me leave his house.
I returned home thinking the man would still support me, but he cut off contact. It still hurts because I never got to attend nursing school and had to pursue something else.
“He refused to leave when I rejected him” — Tolu* 25
We met last year at a club. He sprayed me while we were dancing and eventually asked for my number. He was older, but I was single and thought he seemed nice, so I gave it to him. After a few dates, though, I still wasn’t interested in him.
At the time, I’d been complaining about the bad electricity in my apartment, so he bought me a rechargeable fan and personally delivered it to me. That same day, while we were watching TV, he stripped to his boxers and started touching me. I refused his advances and reminded him that we’d only just met. He got angry and refused to leave.
I had to involve my estate security and a few neighbours. When they arrived, he told them we were dating and claimed he’d spent a lot of money on me. He even showed them his transaction history from our few dates as proof. To my shock, they believed him and asked us to resolve the situation amicably. I had to apologise just to get him to leave.
I was so embarrassed that I cried afterwards. I blocked him and haven’t heard from him since, but the experience traumatised me.
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“I had to jump from his balcony to escape” — Sandra*, 34
In 2023, I dated a man in his 60s. I knew he was wealthy, but didn’t know much about his business. For weeks, he’d been stressed about disputes with some of his business partners, but I didn’t think much of it until the last night I spent at his house.
It was almost midnight when we heard aggressive banging on the gate. While security was still trying to figure out what was happening, we heard gunshots. He ran to the toilet while I fled to the second floor with one of the maids. She advised we jump from the balcony into a nearby fence. I landed badly and injured my leg. Even now, I still have a slight limp.
He was briefly arrested afterwards, and I later learnt his partners had tried to threaten him. What hurt me most was how little concern he showed after I got injured. We stayed together for a few more months until I got tired of the relationship.
“He gave me a bacterial infection” — Oluchi* 31
In 2024, I met a man in his late 50s while I was out with friends. He seemed kind and generous, so I gave him a chance. We started talking and eventually began a long-distance relationship because he wasn’t based in Nigeria.
When we finally met again, I had some of the worst experiences of my life.. His hygiene was poor and the sex was disappointing. I spent most of our time together feeling uncomfortable and irritated by everything he did.
After he travelled back, I developed itching in my private area and noticed sores. At first, I thought it was psychological because of how irritated I felt around him, but the hospital diagnosed me with a sexually transmitted bacterial infection. Thankfully, it was treatable.
I made him pay for my treatment, then cut him off a few weeks later. After that experience, I never wanted to see him again.
“He turned me to his maid” — Idara*, 26
When I was in uni, I started seeing a man whose family lived abroad. After our first date, we went back to his place, and I was shocked by the state of his house. It was completely upside down, so I offered to help clean up.
Soon, that became a regular thing. He’d ask me to cook for him and call me over to clean and take care of his space. I started wondering if he wanted a girlfriend or a maid. I even suggested he hire someone, but he said he didn’t trust strangers in his space.
When I finally told him I didn’t want to do chores for him anymore, he got angry. He said that if I could enjoy his money, helping him around the house was the least I could do. That was the most degrading thing anyone had ever said to me. It made me realise how much I was taken for granted.
If you watched Tatiana’s story end in A Happy Ending before dating a sugar daddy, would you still go for it? Watch it on Youtube and tell us what you think.
Collaborations are a gamble. Put two artists who share nothing on one beat, and the odds are it just sounds like two people who showed up on different days. But ever so often, the mismatch is the point. While highly anticipated pop crossovers and strategic remixes have often broken streaming records, the true magic of music usually lies in the unpredictable.
From street-pop artists linking up with refined UK grime and drill artists to Apala flowing over modern R&B melodies, the Nigerian music scene has interesting cases of defying expectations. These are 10 Nigerian songs that shouldn’t have worked on paper, but did anyway.
“Dangerous” sees Ayra Starr tapping deeply into traditional Nigerian roots by bringing in Apala-fusion artist Terry Apala. It was unforeseen to see Ayra Starr collaborate with Terry Apala, whose sound is deeply niche and grounded in Apala music. The production seamlessly merges modern sounds with heavy talking drums. Ayra’s silky, melodic R&B vocals float beautifully over the beat, while Terry Apala’s raspy, indigenous chanting evokes a hypnotic feeling.
2. “ZaZoo Zehh” — Portable and Poco Lee feat. Olamide (2021)
Portable was, at the time, a loud and largely unknown street artist. “ZaZoo Zehh” is the viral hit that introduced the hyper-energetic Portable to the world. Orchestrated by Poco Lee and blessed by a catchy verse from Olamide, the track became the inescapable street-pop anthem of 2021. The collaboration was wildly unexpected, but despite Portable’s unpopularity then, he commanded the track alongside a veteran and superstar like Olamide. It bangs because it’s undiluted Nigerian street artistry, driven by heavy percussion and slang-heavy lyrics.
3. “Sweet in the Middle” — Davido feat. WurLD, Zlatan and Naira Marley (2019)
It brings together Davido’s mainstream Afropop, WurLD’s alternative soul, and the gritty, Zanku street-hop of Zlatan and Naira Marley into a single, cohesive track. The inclusion of the latter’s street brand seemed impossible on paper. Yet, it bangs. WurLD sets a seductive tone, Davido carries the hook, and the street rappers bring an infectious bounce to it.
After Fireboy DML’s “Peru” organically became a big hit on its own, British pop megastar Ed Sheeran — who had expressed a strong desire to jump on an Afrobeats track — hopped on the remix. It skyrocketed to the top of the UK charts and Billboard Hot 100, and solidified Fireboy as a global star. The surprise factor came from Sheeran completely leaving the standard pop style, leaning into the Afropop cadence. The song hits because of its irresistible, earworm melody and laid-back Shizzi production.
This song is a single from Ayra Starr’s sophomore album The Year I Turned 21, and it brings together the Gen-Z Afropop star and street-pop sensation Seyi Vibez. Ayra Starr noted she wrote the song while angry and heavily caffeinated, and eventually reached out to Seyi Vibez because she felt the track perfectly suited his specific style. Ayra is R&B-infused Afropop, and Seyi is more of the raw, choral, Apala-infused street sound. The collaboration was highly unexpected due to their vastly different fanbases and music sounds, but it’s a jam.
Skepta shocked the music industry when he enlisted one of Nigeria’s most controversial music artists, Portable, for “Tony Montana.” No one could have predicted the collaboration. Portable gives a melodic, restrained hook that sets the tone for Skepta’s sharp and boastful grime flow. This song proves that both artists are masters of adapting to unconventional sounds.
Released as the lead single for Asake’s Lungu Boy album (2024), “Wave” linked the Nigerian superstar with British drill heavyweight Central Cee. The collaboration was solidified with a visually striking music video shot across the streets of Lagos, showcasing Central Cee embracing the local culture alongside Asake. The beauty of the song is in how it blends Fuji elements with a UK drill verse.
8. “For My Hand” — Burna Boy feat. Ed Sheeran (2022)
This track is a popular romantic ballad that the two artists debuted live together at Wembley Stadium. While Burna Boy usually commands heavily percussive, uptempo Afro-fusion songs, a tender acoustic-led ballad with Ed Sheeran is a surprising pivot. It works because of its simplicity, stripped-back production and emotional resonance. Burna’s rich, gravelly baritone grounds the song, while Sheeran’s light, folksy tenor provides a sweet contrast.
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This song is from P-Square’s Double Trouble album (2014). “Ejeajo” is one of the earliest high-profile crossovers between Nigerian pop and American hip-hop. The duo brought in T.I. for a track heavily inspired by 1980s pop and disco, which is a detour from their usual Makossa or R&B-infused Afropop sound we’re used to.
It bangs due to its sheer infectious groove and nostalgia-inducing bassline. T.I.’s smooth, southern rap flow glided over the upbeat, funky instrumental, matching the Okoye brothers’ ecstatic pop vocals.
This is a standout track on Ric Hassani’s 2025 Lagos Lover Boy album that links together two artists sitting at the opposite ends of the Nigerian music spectrum. Ric is a romantic R&B ballad guy. On the other hand, Portable is the wild and controversial face of Nigerian street-pop. The collaboration was completely surprising and felt almost like a fever dream to fans, as their public personas and music couldn’t have been more polarised. Despite the bizarre pairing, the song is a sweet one. The two artists bounce over a mid-tempo Afropop beat produced by Kenzy Beats.
Whether it’s ajo, esusu or the local community contribution groups, Nigerians have always found ways to save money with friends.
Some of these groups may work just fine for a bit. But deep down, we all know they can also come with plenty wahala. One person can collect everybody’s contribution and suddenly disappear, or the collector uses your money to play Sporty or buy Valentine gifts for their crush. And when things go south like this, it can be difficult to know how to get your money back.
To avoid stories that touch, there are laws and government-backed schemes that give you more formal ways to save money together with your friends, manage funds, invest together, or even build property as a group.
We have compiled five of them for you.
Register as a cooperative society
Under Lagos State’s Cooperative Societies Law, a group of at least 20 friends can register a cooperative society to pool savings and access financing that is often cheaper than commercial bank loans. Basically: turn your “squad savings” WhatsApp group into a registered entity that can actually sue and be sued (hopefully never by each other).
Register a business name or a partnership under CAMA 2020
Instead of running your joint hustle as an informal “we’ll split it later” arrangement, the Companies and Allied Matters Act (CAMA) 2020 lets two or more friends formally register a Limited Liability Partnership (LLP) with the Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC).
This structure ensures that the business is a separate legal entity, protecting everyone’s personal assets if things go sideways. Nothing tests a friendship faster than money, so write the agreement down before anyone starts saying, “I thought we agreed…”
The Naira Life Conference is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. Secure your spot here.
Pool Money Through an SEC-Regulated Collective Investment Scheme
Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) rules on Collective Investment Schemes (CIS) allow groups to invest through regulated unit trusts and mutual funds, with a fund manager handling the day-to-day operations. So instead of handing your money to that one friend who “knows crypto,” your friend group can invest together through SEC-regulated mutual funds or unit trusts managed by licensed professionals, protecting you and your friends from unnecessary risk with strict regulatory transparency to prevent unnecessary ṣhàlàyé.
Fund a group idea through a licensed crowdfunding portal
Under the SEC’s Crowdfunding Rules (2021), your friend group’s business idea can raise money from a larger pool of small investors through a registered portal, because your friend’s rich uncle shouldn’t be the only funding strategy. However, to use this, your business must be formally recognised as a Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprise (MSME) and typically possess a two-year operating track record.
Build property together through FMBN’s cooperative housing development loan
Register as a cooperative (and make sure every member actively contributes to the National Housing Fund for at least 6 months), and you and your besties may qualify for the Federal Mortgage Bank’s Cooperative Housing Development Loan, which can help finance massive housing development plans, provided your squad already owns the land with a clean title before individual members transition into mortgages. In simple terms, your cooperative handles the land and construction financing as a group, then each member gets an individual mortgage to own their unit. Yes, you and your friends really can build an estate together, no billionaire required.
So..what now?
We know money has a funny way of testing even the strongest friendships. So before you start pooling millions with your besties, agree on the rules, put them in writing, and make sure everyone knows exactly what they’re signing up for. Your friendship will thank you later.
And if you’re looking for more ways to understand your money and the systems that help you build and protect your wealth, the Naira Life Conference is where you want to be, because knowing what options are available is often the first step to making better decisions with your money.
Family meetings are meant to resolve disagreements, but sometimes bringing everyone into the room only makes things worse.
These Nigerians share how meetings meant to settle conflicts instead deepened resentments and damaged relationships they once valued.
“I converted, and my family hated it” — Wale*, 63, M
In 2000, I had a spiritual experience and converted to Christianity. I kept it a secret at first because I didn’t want to face backlash from my family. But my youngest half-brother, who lived with me at the time, leaked it to the rest of the extended family.
My uncle called a family meeting at my house, pretending it was about the sale of one of my late father’s lands. Instead, they tried to ambush me and force me to renounce my conversion. The entire meeting turned into a shouting match. When one of my relatives threatened my family and said none of us would be safe until I changed my mind, I brought out my dogs and chased them out. I also threw all my younger brother’s belongings onto the street.
The tension has cooled since then, and I’ve reconciled with many of my family members who have apologised for that day. But I haven’t spoken to my younger brother since then.
“My aunt thought my older sister was a lesbian” — Folake*, 30, F
My siblings and I spent our long vacation with my aunt in 2011. About a week before we were supposed to go home, my aunt saw a message my older sister had sent to a friend on BBM with a heart and a kiss emoji. She immediately accused her of having a boyfriend.
My sister laughed it off, explained that it was one of her female friends, and even showed her the girl’s profile. Instead of calming down, my aunt got even angrier. She said my sister had become a lesbian under her roof. She beat her and made her kneel in the living room the rest of the day.
That evening, during night devotion, my aunt warned us about romantic relationships and told my sister she’d reported her to our parents and the rest of our aunts and uncles. She also said we’d have a family meeting to discuss the matter further.
When my parents arrived, my dad had to restrain my mum because she wanted to pounce on my sister the moment she saw her. My sister kept crying and denying that she was dating anyone.
The meeting didn’t last long. My uncle asked my sister to explain herself, so she showed everyone the messages and shared the same explanation she’d given my aunt. Suddenly, my mum’s rage shifted to my aunt, and they began exchanging insults. My mum called her a bush woman for her ignorance. My aunt responded with curses, saying my mum would never reap the fruits of her labour.
When we left, the car ride home was dead silent. My mum and her sister haven’t been cool since then. The worst part about it all is that we’ve also become distant from our cousins. The plot twist in all this is that I’m bisexual. Although that part of me still remains hidden from family.
The Naira Life Conference is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. Secure your spot here.
“They tried to stop me from getting married” — Rachel*, 48, F
When my husband asked me to marry him, I was delighted, but the road to our union was rough and hard. My parents were strongly against our relationship. They didn’t like his tribe, even though he was Yoruba like us.
When I refused to end the relationship, my father called a family meeting. My older brother and uncles urged me to walk away from the relationship. They all said I could do better and marry someone richer or from a better background. That meeting felt like a gang-up, and I eventually agreed to end things with my fiancé.
The next evening, I packed a few clothes and ran to my fiancé’s house. They looked everywhere for me before they came knocking on his door. By the time they found me, we were already married. We had quietly gone to the marriage registry without telling either of our families.
The decision completely ruined my relationship with my dad and brother, who felt I’d thrown away their advice. Things were also strained between my mother and me, but that changed after I had my first child.
I’m now cordial with my father and my brother, but we aren’t close at all, and I’m fine with it.
“My WhatsApp statuses turned the family group upside down” — Timothy*, 26, M
I love rap music, and I like sharing what I’m listening to on my WhatsApp status. Sometimes, I’ll add a quote from my favourite rapper or post a photo of myself while the music plays in the background.
Last year, I had just started growing out my hair, and I posted a photo wearing a black scarf with some rap music playing. Next thing I knew, my older brother, who’s 10 years older, screenshotted the status and sent it to the family group chat with the message, “Are we sure this boy has not joined a cult?”
Sure enough, everyone started grilling me, asking about my friends and whether the “cult” was why I’d started growing my hair out.
My older sister tried to defuse the situation, but my brother kept adding fuel to the fire. He implied that this made-up cult was also why I hadn’t moved out of the house to live with his family, as he’d asked. Then my parents asked my brother what they should do. He suggested a curfew and other silly punishments as if I were a teenager.
When the heat became too much, I snitched on my brother. I told my parents about his gambling habit in the hopes that they’d start another discussion about his own issue.
He was furious and threatened to beat me. Our relationship has been strained since then.
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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 a movie.
How many clues do you need to get it right? 👀
Share your result when done, but don’t spoil the answer for others. (Missed the last GridLocked? Play it here.)
18 August 2026
Guess The Movie01:00
Title
Guesses: 0
00:00
How To Play
The Goal: Guess the answer for the day before time runs out. (The answer could be a person, place, song, movie, or even slang.)
The Lock: You cannot type a guess until you have revealed at least one tile.
The Reveal: Tap any tile to reveal a clue. Every clue on the grid describes the answer for the day.
The Clock: You have 60 seconds to guess right. The timer starts the moment you flip your first tile. (You get multiple guesses.)
The Score: ⬜ (White) = A tile you flipped 🟪 (Purple) = A tile you kept hidden.
Best Result = ⬜🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 | Guesses: 1 (Only needed one clue and one guess to get it right)
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 oneclue and oneguess to get it right)
On the Streets is a Zikoko weekly series about the chaos of modern dating: from situationships and endless talking stages, to heartbreak and everything it means to be single in today’s world.
After a failed first marriage, Ibrahim* (40) gave in to family pressure and reluctantly tried again with his second wife. But when he eventually found true love, it was with another woman.
In this episode of On the Streets, he shares what went wrong in his marriages and the heartbreaks that reshaped his definition of love.
What’s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I’m currently separated from my wife after a series of bad relationships. I never expected to be single at this stage of my life, but life doesn’t always go as planned.
How did you get to this point? Walk me through your dating history.
My first serious relationship was also my first marriage. I met Aisha* during my NYSC service while staying with a mutual family friend. I was already living there when she arrived to begin her service.
I helped her settle in, and we spent a lot of time together. She was very pretty and gentle, and I was drawn to that. We used to talk for hours, and we grew close over time.
At first, I saw her as a sister. But I soon realised the protective feelings I had for her weren’t entirely platonic. I was in love with her.
I hesitated to tell her how I felt for months because I didn’t want to make things awkward. When I did, she didn’t reject me, but she was hesitant about how the people we lived with might perceive our relationship.
She eventually returned home after she completed her service year. That’s when she acknowledged her feelings, and we officially started dating. In our religion, marriage was the natural next step, so we started working towards it.
What was the relationship like once you started dating?
It was good at first. But as I got to know her better, I noticed some character traits I shouldn’t have ignored.
She had a strong need for things to be her way. If I did something she didn’t like, she’d withdraw and refuse to engage with me. But I ignored this trait, among other things that I’d noticed.
We got married in 2015. I was just starting my career at the bank where I’d served, while she was trying to find a job.
For a while, things were stable between us, and her unemployment wasn’t much of an issue. But she got restless and wanted to pursue a master’s degree abroad. At first, I wasn’t fully supportive.
We were newly married, and I felt we should focus on building our home.
But she was insistent and refused to see things from my perspective. I eventually had to withdraw some of the money I’d saved up for business to fund her relocation.
She left for the US in July 2016, just a year and four months after we got married.
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How did the distance affect your marriage?
We talked often, but she constantly complained about her life there. I’d already given her almost everything I had to help her travel, so there wasn’t much more I could do financially.
Even though we tried to keep up, the distance and our schedules made communication difficult. I was six hours ahead, so we’d often miss our call times. Whenever I reached her, her emails and texts went unanswered, even though she communicated with her parents.
About eight months in, I realised that the marriage was falling apart. I initially tried to keep our problems private, but I eventually asked her father to intervene. He spoke to her, and things improved briefly before she returned to the same pattern.
At some point, I barely knew what was happening in her life. I counted down the months until she finished her programme, hoping things would get better when she came home.
Then, during the final lap of her programme, she told me she wanted to have a serious conversation.
Oh
She said she didn’t want to return to Nigeria because she no longer believed our marriage was the right decision. She felt we’d grown apart and didn’t think things would improve, even if I joined her abroad.
She was apologetic and cried, but she also seemed hellbent on her decision. I involved both our families, but that didn’t solve anything. The process dragged on for months until I accepted that the marriage was over in 2019.
I was devastated. I felt used and very bitter because I’d sacrificed so much for her. But by then, our issues had exhausted me so much that I was no longer attached to her in the same way.
I’m sorry. What was life like after that chapter ended?
I wanted to be alone most of the time. My job was demanding, and I poured myself into it. I barely entertained the idea of dating again because I was still scarred from my previous experience.
As the years rolled by, my parents pressured me into considering marriage again. They eventually set me up with Mariam*, a family friend.
Tell me about Mariam
She came from a respected family in our community, so I knew her from a distance. She worked at a pharmacy in the same city and would visit me.
At first, I wasn’t interested, but my family liked her. Unlike Aisha, she was selfless and understanding. Eventually, I gave in to the pressure. I didn’t fall head over heels for her, but I liked her enough to get married in 2021.
Right. Were things different this time around?
In a way. I was happy because everyone else was happy. In my culture, marriage is a blessing, and I felt I’d done what was expected of me. But we struggled to connect on many levels.
She quit her job after our wedding to become a housewife. She also wanted a large family. I encouraged her to start a business or at least get a university degree, but she wasn’t interested.
Our relationship also lacked the emotional connection I’d always wanted. We didn’t really talk about our days or share much beyond the practicalities of life. Even our sex life felt mechanical. I didn’t feel excited about coming home to her.
A few years into our marriage, she also became more involved in spiritual practices I wasn’t comfortable with. I’d find unfamiliar balms and soaps around the house, and she’d say they were for good luck or protection.
Around 2024, I started frequenting a restaurant near my workplace during my breaks. I noticed a woman there a couple of times. I eventually approached her and learnt her name was Salma*.
Right. Did you pursue a relationship with her?
Yes. It was platonic at first, until it became more. I really enjoyed her presence, and she was constantly on my mind.
Over time, I started considering a future with her. I felt we balanced each other in ways Mariam and I didn’t.
Did she know you were married?
I told her very early on that I was married, and we took time to discuss what that would mean for us. After dating for a few months, I proposed to her in January 2025.
The difficult part was telling Mariam. I went with my uncle and explained that I wanted to marry Salma. Surprisingly, Mariam laughed it off and said she knew it would eventually come to this. She seemed receptive, which was a relief because I was worried about creating more problems within the family.
Salma and I set the wedding date for August 2025, but soon after, things took a turn for the worse.
What happened?
I discovered she was talking to another man. I considered it cheating and asked her to cut him off. We argued about it, and she eventually agreed.
While we were still trying to move past that, Salma suddenly became ill. Her legs became swollen, and she sometimes struggled to walk. She was frequently unwell and seemed unlike herself.
Then her family started experiencing a series of misfortunes. Salma believed Mariam was responsible. She said they’d sought spiritual help and had been told that Mariam was behind their problems.
At first, I dismissed it. I didn’t believe Mariam was capable, especially because she’d accepted my decision to marry again. But Salma became convinced that marrying me would bring more problems to her and her family.
A few weeks before the wedding, she told me she no longer wanted to become my second wife and ended the relationship.
How did you deal with the breakup?
It was painful. There was nothing I could do to change her mind, and I struggled to understand how everything had fallen apart so quickly.
Given everything that had happened, I also began suspecting Mariam was responsible. The breakup with Salma further deteriorated my marriage to Mariam. We fought more often, and grew more weary of her spiritual practices. I didn’t want them in my home and started worrying about my safety around her.
Through all this, she started pushing for another child. We weren’t even intimate anymore, and I’d already decided that I didn’t want more than three children.
She eventually moved back to her father’s house when she realised I wasn’t doing her bidding. She said she was unhappy with how I treated her. We’ve been separated since last December.
So, how have these experiences shaped your idea of love and relationships?
I’ve learnt that love is an important part of marriage, and it’s not a feeling you can force. I spent a long time thinking I would eventually fall in love with Mariam because I wanted to make the marriage work. But it never happened.
I’ve also learnt not to let family pressure push me into decisions I don’t want to make. If I’d listened to myself, I wouldn’t have married Mariam in the first place.
Finally, how are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10.
8/10. I like the peace I’m experiencing now. Last year, my marriage to Mariam was a very difficult phase of my life, so I appreciate the distance we have now. I thought I’d regret the separation, but I don’t miss being married.
