• When Onyinye Gift Ikechukwu engaged her creativity and entrepreneurial spirit, something interesting happened.

    By Victor Eyike, bird story agency

    photo of Gift onyinye

    In a yard down on Benin City’s popular 5-Junction Road, ten men gather for a daily ritual. They are greeted by a strongly built young woman wearing workman’s tan overalls and leather shoes, who leads them in prayer. Afterwards, the men pick up their tools and head their various ways, each to a carpentry workstation of their own. Onyinye Gift Ikechukwu, the woman in the overalls, does the same.

    Ikechukwu is the proprietor and chief designer of Cheeo Furnitures — a hub open to skilled furniture builders in this city in Edo State.

    Work starts in earnest in the yard, where several pieces of furniture, including tables, chairs, beds and other pieces of home decor, are already complete and on display for sale.

    “The yard is usually open to any furniture maker. So, different people come here to work. I start my day by praying and changing to my uniform before sorting out the materials for use in the day,” Ikechukwu explained, before getting down to work.

    Although there are several other furniture yards on this stretch of road, Cheeo is unique. In most yards, a businessman owns the business and the artisans — many extremely skilled — work for a wage. At Cheeo all are equal — everyone rents space and retains their independence. And Ikechukwu has gained something of a cult status amongst her fellow artisans. Where many people see her as an unwelcome intruder into the menial, “man’s world” of the furniture-making business, her co-workers at the hub see her as something of a local hero.

    Furniture maker Chude Smart said Ikechukwu’s open-yard concept not only accorded the artisans space to work but attracted more customers. It also provided something they can’t get working alone.

    “Whenever we’re here, we’re supported by our mates. Sometimes we borrow materials from one another. It makes the work easy and fast,” he said. speaking his local dialect.

    Ikechukwu also offers something the artisans would not get elsewhere: social media marketing. Ikechukwu turns to social media – particularly Instagram – to market the products in the yard.

    “The bottom line is, there are so many skilled furniture makers, You just have to put your work out there through social media platforms and try to reach clients before your competitors,” she said.

    Although Ikechukwu had qualms when she ventured into furniture making, she was determined to make her mark in a male-dominated furniture manufacturing sector that rakes in more than 50 billion (almost 120 million US dollars) annually, according to the Nigerian factual site, Nigerian Finder. Only 19 at the time, she was ready to ride out whatever challenges came her way.

    “I was seeking admission into the tertiary institution at that time and I was getting declined, so I desired to try something different. I tried several skills, but it just wasn’t working for me. Then I tried furniture making and I knew it was the real deal,” she said.

    Although she did manage to continue with her studies, Ikechukwu’s parents were not comfortable with her decision.

    “My parents were sceptical about it, especially my mother. I was coming back home with injuries and they wished I focused on something else. But now they have adjusted, they clearly see I have a deep passion for it and whole-heartedly support me and my work,” Ikechukwu said.

    Despite their early reservations, Ikechukwu now credits her father, Ikechukwu Chidele, with providing some her most important support.

    “My father was instrumental to my growth. His drive and diligence as a spray painter motivated me. At some point, I almost ventured into his industry but then I knew that was not my calling, So I delved into furniture making,” she said.

    For his part, the elder Ikechukwu seems to now be a lot more comfortable with his daughter’s decision.

    “I was surprised when she started a furniture design business. At first, I was scared she may be overwhelmed by the work to the detriment of her studies but over time, Onyinye has shown zeal and resilience. I am proud of her for what she is doing. She has my blessings in what she chose to do in life,” Ikechukwu Chidele said.

    Even Ikechukwu’s mother, Ikechukwu Udoka Magdalene, has become one of her greatest supporters, and credits her daughter for changing her perception of the craft.

    “I was always bothered about her safety and how she would be able to combine schooling with furniture design. She has been doing a fantastic job and I am extremely proud of her, Udoka said.

    Though the daring move may be breaking down gender bias, Ikechukwu, like many Nigerians from average families, can’t afford to look back. Cheeo has now become the lifeblood of the family. It pays the bills and funds her own further education.

    ‘I am the firstborn child in my family, I have two siblings. My father is a spray painter while my mother is a local gospel singer who makes and sells snacks. I am not from a wealthy home, but my parents have been doing their best to ensure we have a roof over our heads and go to school,” she said.

    “I wasn’t born into affluence, but I was taught to keep hustling by my parents. With my furniture business, I am now able to chip in, besides paying my fees.”

    Having passed her examinations and qualified to attend university, Ikechukwu is now studying at the University of Benin, one of the most prestigious tertiary institutions in Nigeria.

    “My parents always wanted me to get a formal education, irrespective of my desire to be a furniture maker. I had my primary and secondary education in Benin City, Edo state. I am studying public administration at the University of Benin,” Ikechukwu said proudly.

    Looking back she says that it was worth it all despite the ridicule she suffered from friends — especially for doing the many odd jobs required to initially raise capital for her now booming furniture business.

    She also confesses to being tempted to quit college and go full-time into business, but said doing so would “literally kill my parents, who have struggled so much to ensure I and my siblings get a good education.”

    “Honestly, I have been worried that someday I may succumb and quit schooling. But still, I know education is vital and I have to keep balancing my schooling and work,” she added.

    She is also extremely aware of how important her business is to the families of the other woodworkers who use her hub facilities. Buying materials in bulk helps increase their profit margins.

    “We get our materials from different suppliers. Some sell their boards at a cheaper price compared to others,” she said.

    Ikechukwu has now earned the respect of her colleagues, not just for starting the hub but also for her woodwork. At first over-protective, they now see her as one of themselves.

    “They don’t discriminate at all. There is mutual respect here in the yard. Although some clients are sceptical of trusting me with their work, I try to convince them with pictures and videos of my previous jobs to earn their trust. So my gender as a female doesn’t really hinder my work,” she said.

    On average, she makes about 200 sales a year.

    “Although the cost of production is increasing insanely, the market is still buoyant and profitable,” she said.

    But it is not always smooth sailing. Like any business venture, Cheeo has its ups and downs, especially when customers dry up.

    “I get discouraged sometimes, we keep waiting for customers but get nothing. This weighs me down mentally but then I have to stay motivated and keep pushing,” she said.

    She remains bouyed by local customers like Chuks Ideh, who likes the quality she gets from Ikechukwu.

    “I always prefer to make my furniture from scratch than purchasing from a vendor. Furniture is an asset we can’t do without in our homes. I do not care if it’s a man or woman handling the job, as long as it meets my requirements,” Ideh explained.

    Furniture buyer Ibidun Joy said buys from Ikechukwu because of the reliability she finds from the yard’s artisans.

    “It’s difficult to get a reliable furniture maker, So when I search for one, I always seek recommendations from my friends. I have seen Onyinye severally whenever I come to purchase furniture from the yard. What she is doing is great. She deserves all the accolades,” Ibidun said.

    Those sentiments are shared by Franca Suwe, a second-time customer, visiting the hub to buy a queen-sized bed frame.

    “The furniture business is a very stressful venture. I remember my brother, who was a furniture maker, always looking stressed trying to please very difficult customers. I once saw (him) struggling to just complete a wardrobe with a customer breathing down his neck. Onyinye is doing great, and I will continue to buy my furniture from her,” Suwe said.

    “It takes a lot of convincing to close a deal because some clients prefer men while others will make almost unrealistic demands, especially on completion. Sometimes, I get lucky and get instant clients, especially those who see my work on my Instagram page,” Ikechukwu in turn explained.

    Amos Ighorodje is one of the customers who found her online.

    “I wanted to make a wardrobe for my room and when I mentioned it to a colleague in the office, he immediately referred me to (the) Cheeo Furniture page. Though I liked what I saw, I was sceptical when I saw that it was run by a woman, but she proved me wrong by delivering a top-notch wardrobe that is the envy of my friends,” Ighorodje said.

    While many Nigerians insist on buying imported furniture, designer Bright Are called on Nigerians, particularly the “elite” to support local enterprises.

    “Some potential customers believe it’s always better to import their accessories because they will get good quality, and a wide variety at very moderate prices. That’s a major problem for domestic furniture designers. It would help grow us and the economy if Nigerians can start patronising local furniture,” he said.

    But Onyinye sees an opportunity in the challenge mounted by imported goods. That opportunity is to improve her quality and ensure competitiveness to win more customers.

    Her eye is set on turning Cheeo into a household name and top furniture manufacturing company in Nigeria – and beyond.

    “In the next 10 years, I hope to make Cheeo furniture a household name in Africa with unique products to compete in the export market,” she concluded.

  • “A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.



    For nine hours every day, 26-year-old Daisy* calls 180 loan defaulters to get them to pay up their debts. But when she’s overlooked for a promotion after two years, she starts doing the bare minimum while she figures out her next career move.

    Graphic image of a customer service agent for A Week in the life of a debt collector
    Photo by MART PRODUCTION via Pixels

    MONDAY

    My typical day starts at 7 a.m., but I go back to sleep and wake up fully by eight most days. If I had to go to the office, I’d wake up at six and leave my house at seven. But thank God my company now lets people like me, who’ve been on the job for a long time, work from home. 

    I take my bath and do skin care — even though I work from home, it’s annoying that I have to use sunscreen, according to skincare experts. SMH. Then I hotspot my smartphone to my laptop and get ready to get through the day. My work is straightforward: I ask customers to pay up their gbese. I’m pretty much a call centre agent, so when a call comes to me, it’s because a customer has picked up and I’m an available agent. 

    I interact with customers until 6 p.m. when I log off. 5 p.m. is the official closing time, but everyone is used to working until six because, targets. If I need to take breaks, they have to be for less than 30 minutes each. But I can’t complain. 

    After work, I’m too tired to do anything, so I fry eggs, drink tea or order food. I don’t have time to cook a full meal because of my limited break time. I spend the rest of the night social media-ing, and catching up on texts and calls from friends, before going to bed around 11 p.m.

    TUESDAY

    At 8:50 a.m. when I sat at my desk to meditate before my first call today, I thought about how my target used to be 150 calls per day. It soon increased to 160. As the company continued to expand, they increased the loan collection targets till I was making 180 complete calls per day — a complete call means I dialled, the customer picked, and I introduced myself: “Hi, my name is Daisy. I’m calling you from [insert company name].”

    The day flies by as I take call after call and try to keep my cool because I’m not a very patient person. Word on the gossip line is the company has struggled to raise funding recently. It seems the company’s runway is depleting, and so, there’s serious pressure to recover as much money from debtors as possible. 

    My company used to outsource loan collections to an agency I worked for, but during COVID, they terminated the contract, and I got laid off. Then I applied to join the company’s in-house collections team and got in. At first, I was a high performer, hitting my targets and winning departmental awards. But after personnel changes and reviews, the workplace became toxic.

    The turning point was when I got passed on for a promotion. As one of the founding members, I’d been recommended by a team lead and even worked in the marketing team temporarily. I was enjoying my new role upstairs, and for three weeks, I thrived. Then HR came from nowhere and said they weren’t aware of the arrangement, and they’d already hired two people for the role. They sent me back to the loan collection team. I was devastated. Since then, I’ve been on autopilot. 

    They made things worse by encouraging competition to the point of toxicity. People would come to work from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. because the more calls you make, the higher your chances of recovering money. All this just so they could meet targets and get paltry bonuses. I did it for a while and would earn an extra ₦45k here or ₦60k there. But the payment didn’t match the effort.

    That’s why they’re expanding the loan collection team from the current 65 people to 100 by the end of the year. So I expect the targets to keep increasing. Things are bad, and the economic downturn in the country means people aren’t making enough to pay back their loans. This makes the work much harder for us, and we’re scared of being laid off.

    WEDNESDAY

    Omo. Today, I lost my shit. I understand people are struggling, but please na. I already hate when they assign me late buckets — people more than one month overdue — but this guy who’d defaulted for 35 days and counting was still doing anyhow. I’m supposed to ask why they’re delaying payments, and then, figure out a way to get them to “drop something”. 

    But this guy hadn’t shown any commitment, by making a part payment or even extending his loan. So I told him, “How much can we get from you today, Mister man?! Me too, I used to borrow money na. What’s all this?”

    I get the late bucket customers because I’m one of the more experienced people on the team, but nobody pays me for the extra stress. Loan defaulters can be so annoying. They feel like we debt collectors can’t do anything because the company’s penalties are lenient. We only charge them a tiny percentage in late payment fees for a week, and then, we attempt to auto-debit their accounts. But these sneaky people leave their accounts empty. 

    What we do is flag them as credit defaulters, but most ordinary Nigerians don’t even care. Only those trying to leave the country or who need good credit scores to run businesses do. But those kinds of people rarely default on their loans. 

    When I’m introducing myself to customers, I have to prepare myself because, depending on their mood, conversations can go south very quickly. Sometimes, it’s difficult to stick to the script. 

    I’m not proud of going off on that guy today. But sometimes, when they start moving mad, I want to give it back to them hot-hot. Our calls are recorded, and my quality assurance (QA) score will surely take a hit, but we move.

    THURSDAY

    Today, there’s gossip going around that the company’s trying to review the bonus structure again, but I don’t even care. The base pay for my role is ₦110k monthly. Just as recently as three months ago, people got up to an extra ₦80k if they met three key performance indices (KPIs): QA score, output and recovery. 

    The old system was something like this: If my team calls 1m customers, we’re supposed to recover at least 70% of the debt. If I call 3k customers in a month and they were owing ₦3m, I must recover at least 70% of the money. If I hit my 70% target, and my team meets its 70%, it means I’d meet the recovery KPI.

    I also need a QA score of 90%, which is measured by following the call script, being empathetic, maintaining a certain tone of voice and requesting complete or part payments. This has been my biggest issue as I usually score between 82% and 89%. I don’t care about customers’ reasons for defaulting payment. Just pay the money you owe.

    Before my first short break at around 1:30 p.m., I called a debtor, and before I even finished introducing myself, she’d started shouting, “Ahn ahn! I already told you people I don’t have any money. Please please please, you people should let me rest. Your colleague called me yesterday and the day before yesterday. Why will you be calling somebody every day?”

    Wait o, am I not supposed to ask them for the money they promised to pay? Shey she dey whyne me ni? Is she the only person who’s ever borrowed money? What kind of nonsense is this na? When I dropped the call, I knew I was going to score zero on QA, but God no go shame me. 

    Some defaulters even lie that they’ve paid and there must be something wrong with our app. Mad people.

    All this stress and they’re still changing the rules. The most recent one was them introducing some kind of tier system for bonuses. Basically, even if you meet your 180 calls per day and score above 90% in QA, if you didn’t recover up to 70% of the top performer’s recovery in the team, your other two metrics have gone to waste. It’s things like these that cause unhealthy competition and working conditions.

    We wouldn’t go for breaks just because we were trying to meet targets. Some people didn’t even have time to eat; they’d bring food to work and take it back home. Even me that likes to talk, my mouth was paining me.

    I no longer give a fuck about the job. Imagine doing backbreaking work nine hours a day, for ₦110k a month with bonus wey no even sure. You recover millions for a company, but your money or career isn’t increasing or improving. 

    I’d hoped I’d grow in the role and, in two years, become a team lead or get into project management or digital marketing or something. But I’m stuck in the same role, and there’s not much room to grow, so I have to start looking out for myself. 

    These days, I’m just doing enough to not lose my job. I won’t do more than I’m paid for because fintech won’t kill me for my mother. All the OGs are already leaving the company. I’m just biding my time while I figure out my next move.

    FRIDAY

    I’m always grateful for Fridays because I’m a social butterfly. Work may weigh me down, but when I turn up? I turn up. As I turn on my laptop, all I’m looking forward to is close of work so I can go to SOUTH and unwind. I’m tired. All my body needs right now is their Long Island. The thought of it is the only thing that’ll get me through the day.

    While I’m having lunch and taking a break from those annoying loan defaulters, I think about trying new things and keeping at them. In the recent past, I’ve tried project management. I finished the course, but I got bored when it was time to apply my knowledge. I’ve also tried data analysis, SQL and digital marketing, and now, I’m about to complete a course in virtual assistance. Maybe my experience in customer relations and communication would help me thrive in that role.

    I often think I don’t have the grit to succeed, but maybe I’m just scared of starting over in an entry-level role. I don’t know again abeg. Too much thinking and too little time. I finish eating and get back to work.

    My weekend afternoons are for the virtual assistant course I’m taking. Evenings are for “we outside”. When next Monday comes, I’ll face it bravely.


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

  • “A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    After failing to get a job with his pharmacy degree, Nicholas* switched to content writing. Now on a ₦135k monthly salary, he’s tired of doing the same things every day to put food on the table. What’s an ideal future for him? To get crypto writing gigs that’ll make him a millionaire.

    Phot of a tired man with the caption: This Public Relations Writer Is Tired of Writing for Money — A Week in the Life

    MONDAY

    Every day, I wake up between 6 and 7 a.m. to do the same things: devotion, and meditation, and then I resume work at 9 a.m. I work remotely, so I only have my bath after my team’s standup meeting around 10 a.m. Then I ask my assistant to run me through my to-do list, which typically doesn’t have much to excite me.

    I’m the head of communications at a company that creates courses for professional development to help people get into crypto. My job is straightforward: I manage all public relations going out of the company, including content writing and design. And even though the marketing team handles social media, all their content still has to go through me to ensure they match our brand tone and voice.

    After work, I close my laptop and either pick up a book or watch TV and sleep. The next day, I do the same things all over again.

    TUESDAY

    In 2015, I graduated with a pharmacy degree, did my internship in 2017 and served the following year. But when I tried to get into the job market, I realised, omo, e be like this thing no too pure. From hospitals to institutions in Ebonyi and Abuja, where did I not apply to? My dad even sent my CVs up and down. After a few months, I told myself, “It’s like I will use what I have to get what I want o.” 

    I used to write stories before I graduated, so I decided to try content writing in early 2019. I worked for someone in the United Kingdom for six months. It was hell. The man was supposed to pay me ₦80k, but I was doing everything in the company: manager work o, designer work o, even personal assistant. But he had the nerve to still delay my chicken change salary every month. 

    Before my birthday in June, I begged this man to pay me my money on time. He said, “Okay, I’ll look into it.” Oya now, birthday came and passed, and man did me “Aired DFKM” on top money I worked hard for. He paid me for June in July, and delayed my August and September salaries. By October, I couldn’t take these delays anymore, so I quit.

    I was out of a job until the COVID-19 lockdown in March 2020, doing odd freelance jobs and collecting small small money. Then the CEO of my current company reached out to me to join his startup. I’d edited his pitch deck for free a while back, so when he reached out to me, it was to offer me the job.

    I started in the company as a content writer, and after 10 months, I got promoted to head of communications. My job is pretty monotonous these days, but I prefer it to when I worked as a pharmacy intern. 

    As I take my bath after morning stand-up today, I think how different my current life isfrom when I was practising pharmacy. Before, I’d have to be at work attending to patients from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. It was stressful as fuck, and I always returned home drained. Now, my schedule is flexible; I work from home, lead a team and delegate tasks.

    When I get back to my work table, I dive into monotonous work for the next six hours: planning webinars, editing course content and looking for ways to improve the company’s processes for external communications — same old, same old.

    WEDNESDAY

    Omo, they’re dragging my boss today. The thing about startups is we make mistakes and learn as we go. In an ideal setting, the marketing team should involve me in their projects at the planning stage, But omo, these guys just created briefs, wrote up documents, got them approved by management and brought them to me to edit at the 11th hour. I was like, WTF? But management pressured me to just do it like that and keep it moving.

    There was a backlash when the information went public, just as I’d warned. And as things heated up on the TL, I advised everyone to not respond to anything until we figured out damage control. But the CEO entered the dragging, and things got messy on Twitter, Facebook and in our Whatsapp community groups. I was so pissed because we could’ve handled the situation better, but this man no dey hear word. Omo, they ratioed his life so much I had to involve the company lawyer.

    It’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed. But I check the time. It’s still 3 p.m. Why does time crawl when you’re not having fun?

    I just mute my Twitter app and continue working on the document I’ve been drafting for the past week. It contains the plan to help smoothen the flow of information across teams to prevent stuff like this from happening in future.

    THURSDAY

    After all the drama of yesterday, when I woke up this morning, my body kind of refused to get the memo that work continues, but sapa is always a good motivator.

    During today’s standup meeting, I ran through my plan for improving communications, and it hit me that I don’t have regrets about switching from pharmacy to content and PR sha. I sabi work; it’s just I’m not where I want to be.

    These days, my life is a blur. There’s no passion. When I wake up in the morning, there’s no ginger, nothing to look forward to. I’m tired of writing just to put food on the table and pay bills. Between 2017 and 2019, I used to write stories to submit to journals and magazines, and there was always something to look forward to. I miss the thrill of getting acceptance letters and the heartbreak of rejections, for example.

    Now, I’m just tired of the monotony of corporate daily life. I’m doing the same things every day and not earning enough.

    My company currently pays me ₦135k net, and I get an extra ₦100 – ₦120k from freelance work. I want to earn millions, so I don’t have to take on so much work in my spare time to make up for my salary. I need to have time to create content I love.

    I can’t wait for the weekend sha. I took this gig recently, writing about crypto stuff for a guy who pays me ₦8 per word. For him to be able to pay me that much, he probably earns close to a million naira monthly. He’s a middleman who gets contracts and outsources them to me, but I found someone who gets gigs from a direct source and has promised to link me up as long as I can build my portfolio and show workings. I plan to do just that, so help me God.


    *Subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

  • A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week


    Today, a woman who sells loans to Nigerian police officers walks us through the chaos of dealing with aggressive officers, why she dislikes the job and her plans for the future. 

    A Day in the Life of a loan officer
    Image credit: POLCOOP

    I have to be at work by 8 a.m., so I wake up at six. My my mum is already preparing breakfast, so I sweep the house, take my bath, eat breakfast and prepare for work. By 7:30 a.m., I leave the house. 

    I work as a loan advisory officer at a company that offers loans to police officers, and my work involves convincing the officers to take the loans. It’s a weird job. Instead of outright pushing a product like the average salesperson, my work is more advisory. I show them why they need the loan and guide them through the process.

    When I get to the office, it’s meetings, meetings and meetings. And then, I hit the road looking for policemen who need money.

    The loan company works with the Integrated Payroll and Personnel information system (IPPIS) to offer the loans. I joined the company as a customer service agent when I wanted to move up the career ladder from being a pre-school teacher. Then the company restructured and moved me to sales. I hate anything to do with sales targets because it comes with competition.

    For instance, a police officer who’d taken his first loan through me relocates to another city. When they get there, they may want to take another loan. I have to be very careful to prevent my colleagues from reaching them before me because all the company cares about is us bringing in loan requests. If I let a police officer seek loans from another advisory officer, I’ve lost. I have to be very jealous about my customers. 

    Before, when a police officer tells me they want ₦100k, for example, I’d just process their loan request. But, omo, I have targets to meet o. Nowadays, I upsell to them. I’ll ask, “Are you sure?” and try to convince them to ask for more. I like this part sha, because I’m improving, and I know it’s a valuable skill I’ll need when I decide to switch careers.

    My life is also full of fear. Travelling outside my state so often just to convince police officers to take loans stresses me, especially with the country so insecure. I’ve heard stories of robbers attacking police stations to destabilise them before going into town to rob. My daily fear is, what if I get caught up in a crossfire?

    And I’m a young lady. Have you met Nigerian policemen? Imagine meeting them every single day. The average Nigerian policeman is aggressive so I get threats and visits to the police station often. The most recent instance was after one of them applied for a loan term of six months, and for some reason, IPPIS continued deducting from his account until the eighth month. He was refunded eventually, but he refused to let it go. He’d also asked me out earlier, and I’d refused, so maybe that’s what was paining him. He came to the office, rough-handled the customer service lady and carried us to the police station where he lied that I’d disrespected him and taken his money. 

    After everything was resolved, I came to work the next day and nobody even looked at me. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of life, but I have to eat.

    By 3 p.m., I’ve visited five police stations and scored seven leads. The economy is hard and people need more money, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I’m really tired when I get back to the office. Little do I know I’m coming back to wahala. There’s this drunkard policeman who comes to disturb me every other month. Even though I’ve explained how loans work to him, he still comes to complain when money is deducted from his salary. Why are police officers so dramatic?

    The only thing that’s keeping me here is money. I’m currently still in school and I have to pay for it. ASUU strike is helping me because I don’t have to combine work and school for now. I can focus on work and learning digital skills. I look forward to a time when I no longer have to do loan officer work for Nigerian policemen every day. I’ve started learning content marketing through online courses. I practise what I learn during the weekend, and I hope to start it as a career soon.

    Omo, it’s been a long day, and I can’t stress myself thinking too much about these things. I just want to go back home and rest.

    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

  • “A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    This week’s “A Week in the Life” subject is Mimi Faith, a female painter thriving in a male-dominated industry. This means dealing with gender stereotypes and misbehaviour from male clients. One thing keeps her going though: her ambition to own a home in Lagos.

    MONDAY

    If I have to work on the island, I’ll wake up around 4:30 a.m. to beat Monday morning traffic. If I’m working on the mainland, I can wake up a little later. But I never sleep past 6 a.m.

    When I wake up also depends on whether I’ve already inspected the space I’m supposed to paint. If I have, it’s ji, ma sun, because I’ll have to leave at first light. But if I’m just going for inspection, I don’t have to rush so much. I’ll sha still get my handbag ready, put in my scraper, measuring tools, pen and paper, along with all the other tools I’ll need for the inspection.

    All that doesn’t matter today because I don’t have any active jobs. So I’ll step out of my house to scout new buildings in my vicinity, or the ones under renovation. I’ll go with my brochures, colour palettes, pictures of designs and measuring tape. Depending on who I meet there — engineer, owner or site supervisor — I’ll introduce myself and find out if they already have a painter.

    Most of the time, they tell me they do, but it doesn’t stop me. I’ll show them I can do designs most painters can’t because I’m not a regular painter, I’m a decorative painter. Last last, if I don’t get to work with them on a particular project, I’ll try to build a relationship so they can keep me in mind for future jobs.

    I didn’t get any jobs today, but we move. Tomorrow, I go again.

    TUESDAY

    People are always surprised when I walk into a site, introduce myself as a painter and pitch my services. Today, an engineer shouted, “You say you’re a painter? Are you sure you can climb ladder?” I’m a woman in what people consider a male-dominated industry, so the disbelief isn’t surprising. 

    Some don’t believe me even after I show them photos of my work, including photos of me at work. Most of the people I meet on building sites give me small jobs to test if I can actually do what I said I do. Some ask me if I’m the one who actually does the painting or if I want to collect the job to outsource it to men. When I finally get the jobs, the site supervisors will keep coming to make sure I’m doing as I said.

    Thankfully, most of my jobs come from social media and referrals. Since I post about my work consistently, and I’ve done work for many social media connections, my online audience trusts my work. At 10 a.m, while I was at a site close to my house, someone reached out to me on a Facebook mutual’s recommendation. 

    Their compound wasn’t too far from where I was, so I quickly headed over there, inspected the apartment and negotiated payment. It’s a quick job that won’t take more than two days so I spent the rest of the day buying paints and prepping the building for tomorrow.

    Mimi faith, the female painter, painting the ceiling

    WEDNESDAY

    I worked on the apartment all day and lost track of time. It was only until my boyfriend called that I realised it was already past six. When I was on the bus, I realised how tired I was. All that was on my mind was the kind of deep sleep I’d get when I got home.

    My boyfriend gave me the massage of my life, and I slept off before I knew it.

    THURSDAY

    Pinterest got me into painting. And it was even by mistake. I’ve always liked do-it-yourself (DIY) crafts. Two years ago, I was trying to decorate my house and needed to install wallpapers, so I went on Pinterest for inspiration. Before long, I started looking into wallpaper installation classes online. Soon after, I followed a guy on Instagram, who would eventually train me. 

    But the turning point was seeing the painting design he did in his corridor. I fell in love with it. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a painter. Even though wallpaper installation was easier to learn, I quickly got bored.

    Today, I went to finish up yesterday’s work and had to face the hardest thing about my job: painting ceilings. It’s not that I’m short o; it’s just everyone is taller than me. When I’m painting high points like ceilings, my neck and shoulders scream in pain. But I push through the pain because I chose this work, so how woman go do?

    By 2 p.m., I was done and the owner of the apartment was happy. Job done; smiles guaranteed. On to the next one.

    FRIDAY

    When I first started painting, I met a lot of nonsense men. I quickly realised safety was — and may always be — an issue. Most men contact me to come and inspect their space, but when I get there, they’ll be like, “I been just wan see you”. When it’s not madness.

    I’ve tried a few things to prevent situations like this. Sometimes, I ask for photos and videos of the place to be painted, so I can gauge how serious they are. But people don’t know how to take pictures or record videos well. Some are so bad I have to go and check out the place anyway.

    There was a guy who reached out to me to check out his place. We fixed an appointment, and when I got there, he started telling me things like, “I don finally see you for real life.”. What’s my business? You called me for painting and you’re now telling me to sit down and talk and go out on a date. I just carried my bag and started going back home. 

    Sometimes, men even ask for a date as a condition to hire me.

    My own is let it end in talk sha. Let nobody come close to me or touch me. So I go with a colleague if I have a bad feeling about a potential client.

    Photo of Mimi Faith, female painter, while decorative painting

    What really pains me is how people assume I get jobs automatically because I’m a woman. When in reality, people are always doubting me, especially when it comes to pricing. Very often, I hear things like, “Na because say you be woman, na hin you dey charge this much?” Some people think they’re supporting me or doing me a favour.

    Male painters don’t go through all these shalaye. They just negotiate, do the work and collect their money. When it’s my turn, people will be doing plenty permutations.

    We move sha, because for me, every job is an advert. I want someone to walk into any room I painted and ask who painted it. I focus on doing excellent work, exceeding expectations and getting referrals. My online presence is helping me very well, and some repeat clients still call for me no matter where they are in Nigeria. 

    To be honest, I’ve been fortunate. When I was starting out, a Facebook friend hired me to repaint her apartment. While I was painting, she went live on Facebook and was broadcasting to her friends. Someone noticed I was standing on an inverted bucket to reach the ceiling and offered to buy me a ladder. I thought it was a joke, said thank you and kept it moving. Omo, after I finished, the person said he was serious o, that I should find out the price and let her know. He later sent me the ₦35k for the ladder. That was one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me.

    Photo of Mimi Faith, female painter, with her ladder and paint bucket

    SATURDAY

    Today, I locked down a contract for a building on the island from a referral, as usual. I start work next week and should be done in three to five days. It’s a big deal for me because it’s another chance to show that I sabi this work. I’ll use this weekend to rest and recharge. Next week, I’ll go there and kill it.

    Stuck in traffic heading back to the mainland, I had the chance to reflect on my work. Normally, I feel like I’m not doing enough, but today, I feel fantastic. I’m just two years into this career, and it surprises me how much I’ve grown. I want to be the best I can be, and I know I can do anything I set my mind to — except cook egusi sha. 

    I’ve worked with women who’ve achieved a lot — women like the one whose house I’m coming from. I see women rent, build and buy houses in expensive areas of Lagos, and I know I want to do the same. The one that pains me sha, is when they say my work ethic inspires them. I dey inspire you, but na you dey build house for Lekki. Please.

    By the time I get home around 8 p.m., my boyfriend has prepared dinner — rice and stew. But it’s not enough. It’s been a long week, my body is paining me and the weather is cold. I want a massage and plenty cuddling.


    If you liked this story, also read: I’m the Only Woman at My Job — A Week in the Life of An Oil and Gas Engineer at Sea


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

  • A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week


    What’s it like to be a receptionist in Lagos? It involves a lot of patience. In this week’s “A Week in the Life”, Ogechukwu Agwu, a receptionist who works at an FMCG company in Lagos, tells us about dealing with snobbish callers, reporting co-workers who come late to work and why she’s grateful for her job.

    Roseline Agwu Ogechukwu A Week in the life of a receptionist

    MONDAY


    I never use an alarm because my body just knows I need to get up and chase capitalism. Every morning, I wake up at 5 a.m., and then, I join my family’s morning devotion for 15 minutes. 

    For the next 45 minutes, I prepare lunch for my family, have my bath and dress up. By 6 a.m, I’m ready for work, but I don’t leave the house until 6:30 for security reasons and because of my eyesight, as I have myopia.

    I must be early to work because, as a receptionist at a fast moving consumer goods (FMCG) company at Abule Oshun, Lagos, I’m the face of the office and the first person anyone meets when they step into the building.

    I arrive at 7:45, and when I step into the office, I wash my hands and feet from the dust of public transport and bad roads. I also wash my face and hair, top up my moisturiser and sunscreen, and mentally prepare myself for the day. 

    On Mondays, the sales teams and company affiliates come in for several back-to-back meetings, so there are always so many people around. As I brace myself and mentally prepare to attend to many people today, a salesman opens the door, comes in and says hello. I look at my watch and see it’s ten minutes to eight. His arrival is my cue that the first day of a long week has started.

    TUESDAY

    Apart from the very many salespeople, the rest of the week follows the same pattern: take calls, meet people, take records and help them reach solutions. If a driver comes in and needs to deliver a package, I’m the person they turn to. If an order for a shipment comes through and the driver needs to pick up their products, it’s me they’ll meet. 

    This also means I have to deal with all kinds of people, both well-mannered ones and the ones with attitude. The “do you know who I am” energy around here is insane. Someone can come in and want to walk straight into the offices, and I’m like, “Hi. Good morning. Who are you here to see?” and they’re looking at me like, who is this crap?

    Such is the life of a receptionist.

    WEDNESDAY

    On a normal day, do I like meeting or talking to people? No. But I like this job. This is one of the best companies I’ve ever worked at, where what they promised in my job description is what I’m doing — not much extra work. And even the extra work sef, it’s beg they’ll be begging. So when I’m at work, I give 100% and feel fulfilled.

    Some days, I just come to work, sit down and go home. But there are days when I have to be on my feet, running around and trying to sort out issues here and there. A big part of my work is attending to the drivers moving products, and they give me serious headache. 

    Like a driver today, he came to carry 100 cartons of products, but the vehicle he came with couldn’t possibly contain everything. Man just came to sign. I looked through my window and asked him, “Wait o. Is that your vehicle?” In cases like this, the warehouse may have documented for him to carry 200 cartons first and come back for the remaining 300. But these drivers won’t inform me. So when it’s time to balance the books, my own documents won’t correlate with the warehouse people’s.

    I spent the rest of today fighting fires — calling people up to balance out documents, a driver’s diesel finished and needed money, another person needed money to replace truck tires. 

    By the time I got home, it was almost 8 p.m. I was so tired, I didn’t even do my full skincare routine. I just took my micellar water, cleaned my face, had my bath and closed my eyes to sleep. 

    THURSDAY  

    What I dislike most about work isn’t work. It’s the process of getting to work. Even though I’ve been working here for a year now, I’ve still not gotten used to the daily commute. I’m not an early morning person, so it’s always a struggle. 

    One time, I had to squat in a bus carrying pineapples and other farm produce because there was no danfo on the road. The bus didn’t have any seats, so I squatted all the way from Volks to Abule Oshun. By the time I got to the office, I was already tired.

    One of my duties as a receptionist is to check the roster for arrival times of co-workers and mark lateness. In this company, lateness starts at 8:30 a.m. Anyone who comes in by 8:31 gets ₦500 deducted from their salary per late day at the end of the month. Anyone who arrives after 9 a.m is minus ₦1k, 10 a.m is minus ₦2k, and so on. At the end of the month, I draft an Excel sheet to report defaulters. 

    When I joined the company last year, the lateness deadline used to be 9 a.m, possibly because of the COVID-19 pandemic, but human beings know how to misuse grace. People started coming by 10, 11, so my boss pushed the deadline back to 8:30 a.m. and imposed the fines. People sat up immediately. But it pained me because now, I have to rush to the office before eight o’clock every morning, especially as I’m the first point of call in the company. 

    I’ve only ever come late to work once — around to nine — and of course, they reduced my money by ₦500. I couldn’t even disguise because, as I entered the office late, I jammed HR. But no wahala sha. Never again.

    Roseline wearing the glasses frames she sells

    FRIDAY

    It’s TGIF today, but not for me because my Saturdays are to chill. I also have time for my side business selling frames for eyeglasses

    When I left my office today at 4:30, it hit me that for once in a very long time, I’m actually enjoying my day job. Because me, I’ve seen shege. 

    In my previous job, I was both receptionist and cashier at a lab on the island, where I worked six days a week. I was also an errand girl they sent to the bank. It was a horrible place to work, and I barely had personal or family time. But I now have time to do things like chill with family and attend choir rehearsals and still run a side-hustle without stress.

    As I board the danfo, I know I’ll get home before 7 p.m despite the rush hour traffic, and cook dinner for my family.


    If you loved this receptionist’s story, you may enjoy: A Week in the Life of an NCDC Call Centre Agent


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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

    For this interview, I’m speaking with Joel*, a 23-year-old ghostwriter based in Port Harcourt. He tells me how his babe commanded him to leave his exes, losing ₦2.1m in failed investments and how they’re making their relationship work, dating in Port Harcourt and Owerri, on a combined monthly income of ₦325k in 2022. 

    Average Monthly Income

    Varies, but it’s north of ₦200k on most months. Averages around ₦270k monthly. 

    Occupation

    Freelance writer. Writes books and articles. Occasionally invests and holds his breath because, have you seen the forex market? That shit is wild.

    Location

    Lives in Choba, Port Harcourt. Partner lives in Owerri.

    Monthly bills and recurring expenses

    Rent: ₦10k (₦120k annually)
    Netflix: ₦3,600 

    Fuel, generator repair and maintenance: ₦23k (or more, depending on the mood of mechanics and fuelling stations)

    Water: ₦4k

    Food: ₦50k+ (depending on how my palate sways)

    House dues: ₦4k

    Data subscription: ₦15k

    Airtime: ₦2k

    Black tax: ₦15k+

    Savings: Vibes and as the spirit leads. I’ve completely trashed my budget this year. If you use budget follow this country, you can die. 


    How long have you been in your relationship?

    32 months. 

    How much does your partner earn?

    ₦50k on average. But it can be anywhere from ₦30k – ₦100k. She’s also a writer; she writes SEO, blogs and articles.

    How did y’all start dating?

    We were friends since 2018 but kept things strictly platonic. In 2019, she invited me over and told me to get rid of the other women I was seeing because she wanted me. She’s an Igbo woman, so I obliged. 

    Just like that?

    Well, that’s an exaggerated version. The details are much grimmer. 

    I was in an entanglement with two other girls, one by emotional blackmail and the second by sheer dumb luck. I couldn’t find a way out. So my current babe, who I was already friends with, told me to just dump them, and followed up until I did.

    I —

    LOL. She even threatened me to be quick, lest her other suitors show up and marry her. I did as asked and we spent the remainder of the year seeing if we’d work out. 

    Whew. Why did you accept?

    Well, for one, I actually liked her. She was more introverted than the two girls holding me hostage. 

    Secondly, we planned to go out when next I visited her and agreed I’d bankroll the whole thing. But on the day of the outing, she suggested I kept my money; she’d make us something to eat and we’d stay indoors to watch cheesy movies instead. I had puppy eyes immediately. 

    A finished man

    Make she finish me before Nigeria finish me, abeg.

    Also, when I arrived at her place, she didn’t expect I’d come in so early. I didn’t even call to ask for directions apart from what she sent earlier. So, I caught her in her most natural state: hair tousled, still in her pajamas and playing with her friends. She was as beautiful underdressed as she was when she dressed up. 

    Then again, she’s short and thick — I’m talking fleshy thighs, toned arms, tiny, baby hands and legs. Has a round face with plump cheeks. Natural hair. Small, button nose. Too many positives to count.

    Anyway, despite wooing me, telling me what to do and saying she liked me first, she still demanded that I ask her out officially. We technically started dating in November 2019 but made it official on January 1st, 2020. 

    LMAO, Okay. How much were y’all earning then?

    She was earning nada, but I finished the year with a savings of about ₦250k. 

    How did it go from there?

    She didn’t have a phone or laptop when we met, because she’d already been robbed twice in one year. So, when she went home for the holidays, I contributed to her efforts to get a new one. Her parents couldn’t be bothered to buy her three smartphones in one year.

    Then COVID happened in 2020, and I encouraged her to try content writing, as she’d previously worked as a typist. Soon after, she landed her first gig, which was worth over ₦250k spread across six months. On the other hand, I scaled up and made my first million.


    Take this quiz: How Will You Make Your First Million Dollars?


    About that million…

    Well, there was a pandemic and school shut down. I was a student then, so my biggest money drain was gone. Meantime, I landed two high-profile clients: one in the Bahamas and another in the United States; both personable and relatively chill people.

    After my first job for the Bahamian, she contacted me for two more books and several articles spread across the year. Besides the agreed cost of each job, she tipped well. Imagine getting a $200 tip on a $200 job!

    The American was just as big a tipper. I became part of the team writing his dream book. We spoke often — video and voice calls, and as someone who lived in Nigeria at some point, he understood the cost. So, once in a while, he’d send me $200 for data. When my dad passed away, he sent me $200 as a consolation gift, and later, a $150 Christmas gift.

    I funnelled most of that money into forex and was earning up to 80% of my capital in ROIs. By October 2020, I had a little over a million in illiquid capital, ₦400k in savings and ₦150k in disposable income.

    Balling student!

    Meh. I dropped out last year. I’ll be enrolling again next year sha. I’m just 23, but I can’t deal with this public school system no more. And I want to switch from mechanical engineering to studying English.

    Okay, tell me more about your babe’s finances 

    Well, she’s been trying to scale her craft. Some of the clients she got either default or send her gigs inconsistently. During the epidemic of tech bros at the height of the pandemic, she had contracts with several of them. But since their business plan only involved looking like they knew what they were doing without getting any work done, they quickly went under. Some are still owing her to date. Her income has suffered, but she dey push am.

    I’ve introduced her to friends and associates, meantime, and I send her jobs when I find them.

    Okay. So how much do you budget for relationship sturvs these days?

    On average, I spend up to ₦35k when taking her on dates to fancy places, ₦25k for semi-fancy and ₦15k for an ice cream date. If she’s feeling down, I can cheer her up by sending her money or buying her cake and Hollandia. She also loves jewellery, so pretty pennies have gone down those vices as well. There’s the occasional “I want to make my hair, gimme money” where I chuck in up to half of the cost. Then, [sanitary] pads — she hasn’t bought one herself since 2021.


    EDITOR’S PICK: What’s Dating Like in Abuja on a ₦180k Monthly Salary?


    Since you don’t live in the same city, walk me through expenses in a typical staycation 

    When I visit her, I usually take along supplies to ensure I don’t become a financial burden. Sometimes, I go with raw food like garri, rice and beans — basically, Tinubu’s list. Other times, I buy cereal, milk, sanitary pads and any other thing she wants but doesn’t want to buy herself. My phone is full of lists.

    I also buy fuel to run the gen and contribute to daily expenses. I usually time my stay for a week or two at most, and pay for dates except for times she insists.

    When she visits me, it’s a different dynamic. I’m fully prepared to deal with 100% of all the expenses and have probably set some money apart for a few dates or takeouts. I get her stuff she likes beforehand, like candy, cereal, milk, butter, biscuits, drinks, etc. 

    I also cook because she has a specific welcome food: jollof, peppered turkey and Hollandia — unless otherwise stated. So, I try to get that settled before she gets to my place. If I can’t prepare it myself, I make a quick run to a nearby restaurant. 

    Occasionally, she feels bad for not chipping in like I do at hers and offers to pay for Netflix, buy a keg of fuel or refill the fridge with [bottled] water. I tell her not to worry, but she doesn’t listen.

    What kind of conversations do you have with her about money?

    Money is a weird topic between us. We don’t often talk about it because she’s a very emotional person, and is prone to being depressed when she doesn’t think she’s doing very well. I bear the bulk of our financials and leave room for her to contribute her little, so she doesn’t feel entirely dependent. She’s always so happy to bail me out when I come calling. What I do is, I often exaggerate the situation so she can feel good about coming through for me. Keeps her happy, keeps me happy.

    Give me an instance

    So, about last week [July 2022], I ran out of fuel and needed to refill about 35 litres, which would cost ₦6,300. I was reluctant to spend out of my emergency funds because my paycheque got delayed for a bit. I told her I didn’t have money to fill both jerry cans, and that I might not even turn on the gen. She sent me half the money.

    Interesting…

    We sha don’t assume that just because we’re helping out the other person, they’re totally helpless.

    Okay. So do you have a financial safety net?

    My babe has her parents, especially her mum. They work and earn pretty decent incomes.

    I have about ₦450k saved in fixed deposits sha. But my safety net for illnesses is my ₦50k emergency fund. For more devastating catastrophes, I’ve got nothing. 

    Hollup, what happened to those your millions?

    Well, when the forex market turned in 2020, that was when cryptocurrencies first started their free-fall. Next, other things were taking a hit — bad trades and whatnot — and almost ₦2m from my life savings went with the wind.

    Waaaaait —

    Yep. I went from millionaire as of November 2020 to peasant on January 1st, 2021. I literally had no money to my name except what I’d previously stashed in the fixed deposit while saving for a new apartment.

    How did your partner take it?

    I didn’t tell her how much I’d put in, but she was still pissed AF. Also, I’d convinced her to invest too — she put in ₦150k of her own money into forex. So when things went to shit, I promised to refund her capital myself so she could take her mind off it. As time went on, we just… sorta moved on. 


    RELATED: #NairaLife: The PR Consultant With a History of Investment Scams


    Wild! Okay, so what’s the ideal financial future you want for yourself and your partner?

    One where we can afford our needs and luxurious tastes without backbreaking work. Like, as much as I love to cook, I’d prefer to have an in-house chef. Rather than tour the same 15 restaurants within my area, how about breakfast in Paris and lunch in Dubai, you know? 

    I’m eager to get long-term investments to reap huge payoffs in the future. But I can’t find anything decent in Nigeria yet. Do we even have a stock exchange? I can’t even be bothered with banks because they produce the dumbest results. Someone put in ₦20k on a bank share in the early 2000s and reaped ₦16k in the 2020s. What the fuck? 

    Anyway, I’m trying to build a network and become financially literate, meantime. I currently have my eyes on angel investing. In a nutshell, I want to get some good generational wealth going. It’s my biggest goal, as is hers.


    *subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity.

    *This interview has been edited for structure and clarity.


    Liked this story? I bet you’ll like this too: What’s Dating Like in Lagos on a ₦300k Monthly Salary?


    If you’re interested in talking (anonymously) about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start.

  • A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week


    What’s it like to be a skincare formulator in Nigeria today? For Happylyte, it means producing carefully crafted products made with love, yet fighting logistics drivers and dealing with dishonest suppliers every day. But she’s taking her struggles in stride because her eyes are on the prize — to become a medical aesthetician someday.

    MONDAY

    I work from home, so I don’t have to rush anywhere. 

    But I prepare for work as if I have to go to a physical office. By 8 a.m., I’m at my desk, replying to inquiries and confirming payments for my products. 

    Life here in Makurdi is very peaceful. The labour and rent costs are low — my delivery person charges ₦1k or less to take my products around town or to the bus park for interstate deliveries, and my two-bedroom flat which includes my lab, costs just ₦400k per year.

    But living in Makurdi is not the best for my business. I’m a one-woman company, and running this business is a lot and can be very monotonous. I used to have staff, but they weren’t producing the quality I needed — it’s hard to find quality technical labour in Makurdi. Luckily, I can make phone calls while I work. I just connect my Airpods and talk to friends and family for hours. I work until night — sometimes, I even sleep at 2 a.m.

    TUESDAY

    Tuesdays are the same as Mondays. But sometimes, like today, I order raw materials. Depending on which I want, I can order from Japan, India, Korea or Lagos. For oils, herbs and spices, India has the best. 

    I got my plug from Instagram, from a lady who orders in bulk for vendors because the oils are expensive, and minimum order quantity costs are too large for me to bear alone. I join money with other skincare formulators to place orders. When they arrive in Nigeria, she distributes them to us. 

    When I want cosmetic powders, I order from China. I used to order from Lagos, but as my business grew, I switched because I get better quality from abroad, and it’s way cheaper when buying in bulk. I get sunscreen from Korea and Japan.

    Ordering from Lagos is extreme sports because anybody can scam you at any time. Some of the powders I use to formulate my skincare products are very similar. They’re white and their textures are almost the same. There was one time I got chemicals from Lagos.

    I ordered alpha arbutin, which is soluble in water, but the supplier sent kojic dipalmitate, which only dissolves in oil but is much cheaper. The best way to test it before using is to put some in water and determine which one dissolves and which doesn’t. But that day, I was in a hurry, so I added the powder to the mixture, which included water. That’s when things got interesting.

    Alpha arbutin doesn’t tolerate heat, so it’s usually the last thing I add when formulating creams. When the powder didn’t dissolve, I realised it was kojic dipalmitate which ruined the whole formula, and I lost over ₦200k. I was wrecked.

    What did the vendor do? She told me, “Sorry, ma.”

    My delivery guy sha returned to the supplier’s shop, and the woman gave him some almond oil worth ₦16k to compensate me.

    Very agbero people, these Lagos suppliers. Sometimes, when I order carrot essential oil, they’ll send me a carrot carrier oil instead. But no be every time person dey fall mugu. I now know what to look out for, so when I see it’s not what I ordered, I return it and make them correct my order and pay the delivery fees. Nonsense! 

    WEDNESDAY

    Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from bus drivers. I had to refund a customer’s package today. It got lost in transit, and the logistics company was giving me story. Logistics will make you run mad.

    One called me and was asking me to describe the place I wanted him to deliver to. How would I know? I’ve never been to Onitsha in my life. I gave you the receiver’s number for a reason for God’s sake.

    I’m always tranferring aggression with drivers. When a driver shouts at a customer, the customer calls me and shouts at me. Then I’ll call the driver and shout at them, and on and on it goes. 

    But that’s not even the worst.  In 2020, I had a driver who took my parcel home and gifted it to his wife. 

    After ignoring my calls for days, this man blocked my number. A week later, his wife called me to ask me how to use the products. When I asked her what and what was in the parcel, and where was her location, she told me, “Gboko.” I checked my records, and I never sent anything to Gboko . 

    I asked her where she got the products from. She told me it was her husband who bought them for her from Abuja. I asked if her husband drives for Benue Links. She said yes, sometimes. I told her, “Your husband is a thief ma. He stole your parcel.” She also cut the call and blocked my number. Like husband, like wife.

    Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from drivers. I’ve been in this business for years, but you can never get used to the rubbish.

    THURSDAY

    A mistake people make too often is using products because they work for someone else. Just because someone says, “This one works for me,” you now drop the one you were using and run and go and buy that one.  The lack of consistency and shifting goalposts every now and then will ruin your skin. Why are you using so many skincare products? 

    Someone can hear someone say, “Oh my God, this moisturiser was so good for me.” And then you with dry skin that’s supposed to be using a moisturiser that has plenty oil and lots of hydrators — you’ll now leave the one they made for you and go and another person’s own, and then your skin will now be cracking. 

    I’ve had a situation like that and her skin cracked so bad I had to recommend her to the dermatologist because that one don pass my power.  I can make skincare products but I’ve not licensed to treat skin diseases.

    FRIDAY

    I don’t have a degree in chemistry — I studied economics in uni —  but I’ve taken several training cosmetic formulation classes online, from Udemy, Coursera and The Formulator’s Shop.  And there’s nothing I love more than listening to dermatologists and cosmetoligists  talk on websites like Making Cosmetics, Brambleberry and Soap Queen. Offline, I learnt to make black soap and shea butter from local producers.

    I have processes and products that ensure my products are safe. If I want to make body cream, for example, the first thing I do is decide what I want that body cream to do. Do I want it to be a moisturiser? Do I want it to have a brightening effect, etc? The hardest part about formulating skincare and cosmetics is creating — and sticking to — the formula. It involves plenty maths and accuracy. I have to determine the types of active formulas I want to use, their percentages and how they can work with each other instead of against each other.

    Before packaging, I stabilise my creams at a pH safe for the skin (4-5 – 5.5). For soaps, they need to be more basic (7.5 – 9) because if soaps are too acidic, they’ll not foam. 

    I keep my products for at least a month. During this time, every week, I check for the smell, whether there’s mould growing on it and also check for consistency, making sure they’re exactly the same as the first day I made them. After that first phase of testing, I try the products on myself.

    I have a very sensitive skin, so if it’s a bad product, my skin reacts immediately and I dump it. If it’s a good product, my skin would accept it, then I start sending them out in batches. My close family and friends usually try my products for me before I launch them too.

    Sometimes I go to the inbox of customers and I say, “Oh, I have a product I’m trying out. Would you like to help me test it out?” When they do — because nobody says no to free products — they give me their honest review, then I make amendments before releasing them to the market. My formulation process usually takes about three months. 

    I don’t let anyone into my lab, not even my mother. I don’t even open the windows in that place. Because if something funny blows in, it can touch something it’s not supposed to touch. I control the temperature with a fan and then the AC from my sitting room filters into the lab. 

    I also label all my ingredients on the products so people know what they’re putting on their skin. I don’t claim to be an organic skincare maker because some of these people just mix a bunch of stuff they’re not really sure about. 

    SATURDAY

    After such a challenging week, today went great. I didn’t have any problems with delivery or with customers.

    Asides from the occasional difficult customer, my customers are great. I’ve managed to build myself into a brand that people trust and I’m grateful.

    When I go to bed tonight, I’ll dream of the future. I’m trying to be a medical aesthetician. I want to be trained and certified to give chemical peels. When I started becoming interested in skincare, I never know it’d turn to a business. I was just doing it because I liked local soaps and creams. 

    But if I become a medical aesthetician, I will be cetified to administer things like  chemical peels which require special training. In the next three years, I hope to take SIDESCO and CIBTEC exams and take my career to the next level. 

    I’m smiling as I’m thinking about my dreams and logging into Netflix. Thank God for the weekend.


    If you liked this story, also read: The Doctor Who Ditched Clinical Practice to Sell Perfumes — A Week in the Life


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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

    For this interview, I’m speaking with Okoye*, a 29-year-old freelance writer based in Lagos. He tells me how he recovered from a gambling addiction with the help of his lover in 2021, and also how he’s managing his now two-year-old relationship with a single mother, on a ₦300k salary. 

    *subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity.

    Total monthly income

    It fluctuates. But ₦300k on average.

    Occupation

    Freelance writer — with a focus on finance (crypto, especially) and sports.

    Bills and recurring expenses

    I don’t pay rent because I still live with my parents. My dad, sister and mum contribute to it. Meanwhile, I’m saving up to get my family out of the trenches.

    Food: ₦50k because we buy foodstuff in bulk most of the time.

    Data: ₦20 – 25k.

    Savings for relocating family: ₦80k in the last two months.

    Black Tax: Upkeep for my parents and sisters rounds out at about ₦30k.

    Miscellaneous: I pay for courses occasionally, and those take around ₦20k.

    Netflix: Around ₦4k monthly.


    How long have you been in a relationship?

    Two years and two months.

    How much does your partner earn?

    She’s an online thrift vendor, so her income isn’t steady. But she makes an average of ₦80k weekly, which amounts to roughly ₦320k monthly. On some good months, she makes up to ₦400k.

    How did y’all start dating? 

    Around February 2020, I saw her comment on a mutual friend’s post and playfully replied that I liked her but was holding myself back from sliding into her DMs. She responded, “Dey there na.” 

    So I quickly DMed her. But our initial conversations were stilted. She was mostly unavailable, and I struggled to reach her. She’d just left her ex and was learning to raise her two-year-old son on her own.

    But in March, when the lockdown started, she had more time on her hands, so we started talking more often. By April 8, 2020, I chyked her, and she agreed.

    How much were you earning then?

    I was barely making ₦100k consistently, but we were on lockdown, so the pressure wasn’t much. We were OK with just calls; no need to travel (she doesn’t live in Lagos). We dated virtually until December 2020, when she visited Lagos for an event, and I booked a hotel (I live with my parents). 

    That was the first time we met.

    With such limited income, what gave you the mind to toast a single mother?

    I believe I’m an interesting person, and I’m relentless about doing better for myself. So even then, I knew it was just a matter of time, I would eventually earn more money. Also, I’d dated women higher on the social ladder before, and it didn’t freak me out.

    Secondly, I really liked her personality. Once I like somebody, and I feel we might vibe well after watching them for a bit, omo, na to shoot shot o. What’s the worst that could happen?

    A focused king! Okay, how did it go from there?

    Funny, after December 2020, it took another seven months for us to see again, but under unpalatable circumstances. I’d been battling a gambling addiction and was in debt and I’d hidden it from everyone.


    Related: The #NairaLife of a Gambling Addiction


    But one day, I lost a bet after borrowing money. When the creditors came to look for me, I got overwhelmed, so I left home, booked a hotel, shut my phone off and went to bed. My partner panicked when she couldn’t reach me. When I switched my phone back on the next day, I saw her barrage of messages. So I opened up to her.

    I still don’t know how our relationship survived that.

    Gist me

    I panicked and told her I wanted to break up — I couldn’t continue with the relationship because I thought I had too much baggage. I was over ₦350k in debt from gambling — ₦150k credit from the betting house and ₦200k from loan apps. I thought no one would want to deal with my mess. But she got pissed that I was saying “nonsense”.

    Tell me more

    Omo. She said it was unfair that I wouldn’t even give her a chance to decide on her own. She did say we should take a break, but she wasn’t going to leave me hanging. She would keep tabs on me to make sure I was okay.

    After two weeks, she asked for my account details and passwords so she could track my expenses, and then, she helped me work on a repayment plan. She also suggested I leave my environment — the betting centre was close by — and go stay with her for a while.


    RELATED STORY: For 2 Years I Didn’t Win a Single Bet — A Week in the Life of a Gambler


    How did you get out of that rut?

    I was humbled by her faith in me, so I resolved to get myself out of the mess. I went to visit her and stayed there for a month. I wasn’t her favourite person during that period, but she was very supportive. But I bonded with her toddler so well, he didn’t want me to leave, and that helped.

    The change of environment did wonders. I applied for and got ghostwriting gigs that brought in the much-needed cash. My partner had my account details, so she monitored my expenses and ensured I didn’t relapse. I didn’t want to disappoint her again, which helped me stay focused on dealing with the addiction. After that month, I went to live with my aunty. Gradually, I paid off my debts. 

    It was hard to win her trust again, but by November, our situation improved.

    What happened next?

    We began to plan for a vacation in December (2021). She visited Lagos, and we toured the city for a few days. I visited her soon after, and we had a staycation. Those were the best two weeks of our relationship.

    How much do you budget for relationship sturvs these days?

    It’s as the spirit leads. For example, the last time I visited her, sales were poor that week, so I helped her stock up on groceries and provisions before I left. When she wanted a second phone to use as her business line, I gave her ₦40k — a third of the total cost. It’s the little I could do.

    When I need help, she comes through as well. We buy each other gifts: ₦15 – ₦20k here, ₦40k there, depending on our finances. She gives me more physical gifts — clothes, slides, etc., while I give cash and the occasional gift.

    How much do you spend on vacations?

    We make calculations and split costs. We spent around ₦120k over four days on our last vacation in Lagos and split 60/40 — 60% for me, 40% for her. Our hotel room cost ₦12k per night; beach waka took like ₦25k, including cab fares. We spent the rest on bar hopping around Surulere. Food cost us around ₦25k.

    Since we don’t live in the same state, we spend the most on each other when we meet. In May 2022, I carried my brokeass to her house. She practically fed me for the first two weeks of my one-month stay and sorted all the bills because I wasn’t getting writing gigs for a hot minute. 

    But things picked up for me, and I took over payments for the rest of my stay.

    What kind of conversations do you have with your woman about money?

    We’ve decided to be lovers for the long haul, so we discuss long-term plans. We want to expand her business. I’ve suggested getting a physical location and diversifying what she sells. Her thrift business fluctuates, and I’d like her to be more stable. We’re currently making progress with that. 

    One of the things we agreed on was to start ajo — ₦100k monthly savings. This month, she’ll pack ₦1.2m and launch the new business line.


    RELATED: A Week in the Life of an Instagram Thrift Vendor


    What about you?

    I wasn’t business-minded before, but I’ve started to make small investments. My goal is to make an average of ₦800k – ₦1m by next year at least. I’m also learning about the stock market to improve my portfolio and build wealth, and taking courses in comprehensive digital marketing, covering Facebook ads, Google ads, etc. With this new knowledge, I’ll run better ads and boost sales for my woman. I plan to learn about drop shipping once I’m done. 

    Do you have a financial safety net?

    At the moment, no. I’ve spent so much in the last couple of years, I’m practically resetting my life. I don’t like the place I currently live with my family, so I’m hustling to get us out of here soonest.

    My saving grace is, worst-case scenario, there are people who see me as credit-worthy. But I’m trying to double my hustle, so I can run family expenses and build a safety net while at it.

    What’s the ideal financial future you want for yourself and your partner?

    I want investments in real estate and stable sources of income that would see us making a collective income of at least $4,000 monthly. I’d also like an impressive stock portfolio of low-risk investments to assure our kids of a better quality of life than I’ve had.



    Liked this story? I bet you’ll like this too: What’s Dating Like in Abuja on a ₦180k Monthly Salary?


    If you’re interested in talking (anonymously) about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start.

  • A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    The subject of this week’s A Week in the Life is Hero Lewis, a maths teacher based in Port Harcourt. He talks about learning patience on the job, why he misses flogging students and the aspect of his job that brings him the most joy.

    resized Square A week in the life of a Maths teacher (1)
    Cover image via iStock

    MONDAY

    Every Monday, except I’m exhausted, I wake up by 4 a.m. and commit my day to God’s hands. I grab breakfast, freshen up and mentally prepare myself for the week. Then, I get ready for work.

    Transport to school can range from ₦150 to ₦250 depending on if I use a keke or cab. I arrive at 7:30 a.m. and join the assembly, which lasts from 8 to 8:20 a.m., after which students disperse to their classes and the bell for the first-period rings.

    I teach math at a senior secondary school, and the first item on my schedule is to teach SS1 for two 40-minute periods. I teach maths and physics from SS1 to SS3, so my Mondays are jampacked until school closes.

    After school today, I stumbled into two students from Uniport who’re doing pre-degrees and trying to gain admission into 100 level. They needed help with maths, so I assessed them, only to discover how bad they were. But I promised to tutor them.

    The economy isn’t smiling, so I take classes outside my day job at school. Some students from my class convince their parents to enrol them in my after-school classes. So, even when I close from school by 4 p.m., work has not finished. I move to different places around town for private tutorials. 

    From Monday to Sunday, I have private classes until 7 p.m. when I truly close from work. I only compensate for all the stress by making sure I rest at night.

    TUESDAY

    Maths is boring and tiring, and if you don’t teach it in an atmosphere of joy, you won’t get anywhere with your students. That’s why I have a few tricks. For example, when I walk into a class, I don’t just start teaching. I take a few minutes to tell an interesting or funny story. When my students are really feeling the story, and I’ve caught their attention, then I start teaching.

    But it doesn’t end there. I take short breaks to crack a joke and tell a relatable story. When I ask a question students can’t answer correctly, I correct them with care so they’re not demoralised. Many students look forward to my class.

    When parents hire me for private tutorials, nine times out of ten, the student asked them to because I teach them very well at school but they want to do even better. These days, I’m overbooked, so if someone wants to hire me to tutor them, omo, the money has to have serious weight. 

    Thank God good work has a way of advertising itself because, again, the economy is not smiling. That’s why I invest a lot of time into being a better teacher each day. After all, it’s from where person work person go chop. If they do the work well, they would chop well.

    Hero Lewis in class

    WEDNESDAY

    Irrespective of where you come from, numbers remain numbers. Maths is the most universal language. That’s what I always tell my students. So if a child’s maths foundation is faulty, they would struggle. I’ve seen students change what they wanted to study because math is hard and their foundations aren’t solid.

    Earlier in my career, there was an SS1 student who was terrible at maths. I was called to help them, and based on “I believe myself die”, I dived right in. After assessing him, I was shocked. The boy’s rate of assimilation was very low. And the thing about parents is, when they hire tutors, they expect magic. They expect to start seeing results immediately. They want their children who were bottom of the class to start blasting A’s next term. 

    Unfortunately, this boy failed the next exam. So I had to switch tactics. I started by helping him revise the multiplication table — it’s not every time you depend on calculator. I went back to the very root to teach him things he should’ve already known before getting to SS1. I taught him foundational fractions, decimals, percentages, profit and loss, etc. It took months, but it was worth it because they’re building blocks. Gradually, he started catching up. I would ask, “eight times seven,” and he would respond, “56!” in a blink of an eye.

    One day, the boy won a maths drill in assembly and received a voucher as a reward. The principal called his parents and confirmed their son had improved in maths and sciences. I’ve never been happier.

    THURSDAY

    As a maths teacher, the most valuable lesson I’ve learnt is patience. Secondary school students are a handful and every day is a test. But I have the experience to handle stubbornness without losing my head.

    But it’s not always been rosy. There are some people who challenge your every sense of restraint. Like one SS3 girl a few years ago. I swear children like her can ruin someone’s career. I was hired to tutor her for WAEC, but I was brought in late. There wasn’t enough time because I had to go back to primary school level to even make a mark. Unfortunately, it was too little too late.

    In the early years of my career, there were students who drove me to extreme anger. I would teach something this minute and ask them the same thing the next, and they would be mute. I would be like, “Ahn ahn, why is this one giving me problem like this na? Something I just explained now now?” In my mind, I’d be like, “Make I tear this girl slap?”

    FRIDAY

    I had to deal with noisemakers again today, and I’m happy how much things have changed. In those days, any student who misbehaved or made noise in class would receive major punishment. By the time you receive five or six lashes, it’d be like they poured you water to make you calm for the rest of the day. 

    Many schools no longer allow corporal punishment. And that’s a good thing, I won’t lie. I used to flog students because it was the easiest punishment, and it was just to assert authority. But I’ve found sometimes, students are restless and just want you to divert a little from the subject, to tell a story or banter and make learning a little more engaging. As a teacher, I realised that in any atmosphere you enter, it’s your person that sticks. A joyful person will encourage a joyful atmosphere while a sad one will reflect sadly on the students.

    Maturity has come in, and I have a different outlook on life, from the need to flog all the time. Sometimes, I just issue threats. Another tactic is when I get employed at a school, I’ll be very stern at first, then later, I calm down. 

    The downside of no more flogging is teachers have to talk too much these days. Sometimes, I wish I could still flog. Some children are so stubborn that out of the 40 minutes period for a class, I can find myself using 15 minutes to manage the class and calm students down. Something that cane would’ve solved, I now have to talk and talk. But the government says teachers shouldn’t flog again, so no wahala.

    SATURDAY

    I work so hard because of inflation. I find myself spending much more money to enjoy the same meals I’ve enjoyed for so long. But I’m not getting younger, and I can’t keep working every day of the week for the rest of my life. 

    I would like to do my master’s, so I no longer have to work so much just to get by. The more you learn, the more you earn. And since secondary schools don’t pay much, I want to level up.

    I’ve told my students my days with them are numbered. I know they’ll miss me, but I hope their next maths teacher will treat them with the same level of care.


    If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor


    Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.