Ama Udofa, Author at Zikoko!

“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 #AWeekInTheLife is Elastiick Abah, a fitness coach. He tells us about his training regime, rigid personal diet and the fitness myths that make him scratch his head the most.

MONDAY

My week technically starts on Sunday — if I don’t have anywhere to be on Sunday afternoon, I design meal plans and workout programs for my clients. So when I wake up on Monday, all I do is go out and kill it.

The gym opens by 6 a.m., so I wake up at 5 and head out to the Lekki branch of the popular fitness chain where I work, thirty minutes later. From 6 – 7 a.m., I train five people, but my peak period is between 7 – 8 a.m. when the most people troop in. Ideally, I would be done with my morning shift by 12 p.m., but you know people who only work with African time na? So sometimes, I have to stick around until 1 p.m. Then, I head to the Sangotedo branch.

I’m supposed to work one shift per day, but in February 2022, I started working two shifts for two reasons. I’m trying to fund a personal project, and I need the extra money. The second reason is that I’ve worked five years at the Sangotedo branch and gotten bored and demotivated by being in the same space every day. So I decided I needed a change of scenery and moved to Lekki Phase 1.

I created a transitionary period for myself which will end in July [2022]. During this time, I would work at two gym locations — Lekki and Sangotedo — and ease out of the Sangotedo area. I’m worried about leaving five years of building and nurturing a community of around 100 clients behind, but change is important.

Before May 2022, after my morning session, I would fly a bike to Sangotedo to save time. But since Lagos banned okadas, any day wey traffic dey, I enter the traffic like that. I find a corner of the gym to sleep until 4 p.m. when my evening shift starts. I have different sets of clients every hour until 9 p.m., then I head back to Lekki. Depending on the traffic, I can get back home anytime from 9:45.

Today, there was heavy traffic because it rained, so I got home at 11:30.

TUESDAY

On Tuesdays at 7 a.m., I have a general class called “Tabata”, a high-intensity interval training (HIIT) routine in which participants get active for 20 seconds and rest for ten. They repeat the cycle for five to eight rounds and the class lasts between 45 minutes and one hour. After that, I step out for lunch.

I used to eat six times a day. I’m an ectomorph — someone with a very high metabolism rate — and I have a physically active job. So I need lots of calories; I need to eat big to get big.

At 6:20 a.m., I’d take fruits: two apples and a handful of berries and grapes. By 9 a.m., I’d have oatmeal, a banana and an egg, with peanut butter and milk. At noon, I could have rice with vegetables and chicken or beef. I’d have pasta or swallow — either wheat or pounded yam and soup — at 3 p.m. At 6 p.m., I’d eat Irish potatoes with vegetables. When I got home at 10 or 11 p.m., or anytime Lagos traffic let me reach my house, I’d have rice, potatoes or spaghetti. Sometimes, it could be yoghurt or whatever else was left in my fridge.

And let’s not forget supplements. I would take several types — the pre-workout, inter-workout and post-workout supplements. They contain whey protein, creatine, glutamine, mass gainer, omega 369, etc., and cost about ₦150k every three months.

But all that changed because I’ve gotten a lot leaner since I took on two shifts. I also haven’t been able to work out since February because I’m stressed out from training so many people in a day and can’t afford to push my body further. If I try it, it’ll shut down. I’ve lost a lot of muscle mass and am now a shadow of my former self. I can’t wait to fully transition to the Lekki branch and get done with the personal project I’ve been raising funds for, so I can get back to working only evening shifts like a normal person, and resume working out.

The supplements have also doubled in price. It now costs me the same ₦150k to buy just half of what I used to take two years ago. In 2022, I would buy whey protein for ₦10 – 15k, but the same container now costs anywhere from ₦38k. A tub of mass gainer went from ₦22k to ₦48k, and creatine, from ₦12k to ₦20k. These are the only ones I still use. I’ve stopped buying the rest.

When I got home at 10:30 p.m. today, I prepared for Wednesday — boiled my eggs ahead of breakfast, packed my gym bag — and went to bed around 1 a.m.

WEDNESDAY

The only thing different about Wednesdays is that I have a circuit training class at the Sangotedo branch in the evening. For circuit training, I create obstacles and a series of workout routines for my clients to complete in a stipulated amount of time.

Something happened today at the Sangotedo branch that made me tear laugh. The Sangotedo gym is located in the same building (upstairs) as a pizzeria (downstairs). One of my clients worked out for one hour and left the gym. But just minutes later, I looked out the window and saw this woman sneaking out of the pizzeria with a chairman-size pizza box. I made a video to show her the next time she came to the gym.

She reminded me of another client — a lady who kept complaining bitterly that she wasn’t losing weight. Two weeks ago, this woman finished working out at 9 p.m., the last session of the day, only for me to come downstairs and spot her standing at a shawarma spot.

I often tell clients that I can only be in charge of what they do in the gym. I can’t follow them around to monitor what and how they eat. It’s behaviour like this that’ll annoys — and hurt — any fitness coach. When clients aren’t making progress because of their habits, it feels like we’re not doing our jobs well. We’re not magicians.

THURSDAY

Mehn, the kind of things I see at the gym! Gym bros make me laugh. If it’s not the ones walking around shirtless to show off, it’s those who think lifting weights that are too heavy for them will impress women. These “alpha males” mark territory and want everyone to know, “Na we dey run this town.”

The commonest thing I hear people say about personal trainers is that we’re ashawos who steal people’s women. Nothing could be further from the truth. For me, I just have a lot more female clients than men, and so naturally, I’ll relate with more women. But being a fitness coach is a proper career, and personal training has rules and ethics.

All I’m focused on is my clients’ progress. The best thing that happens to me on this job is when a client goes from a skinny somebody who can barely lift the bar, to being buffed up and lifting 50kg, five months down the line. When I see a client who comes in obese, loses weight and starts moving about more confidently, it fills my heart with joy.

I often receive gifts from such overjoyed clients. Like today, someone dashed me Airpods Pro. The kind of sweet sleep I’ll sleep this night will be legendary.

FRIDAY

I spent a better part of today trying to get two new clients to unlearn all the marketing myths. These fat women had been taking things like weight-loss teas, and even when they lost weight, they’d quickly gain back even more weight.

And that’s because they don’t work. These teas and pills and waist trainers are just products of marketing. They don’t do shit. You’ll drink a weight loss concoction, and it’ll make you purge. You’ll lose water weight and think you’re losing actual weight? No. Too many people are looking for shortcuts and don’t want to do the actual work.

There’s a science to losing weight — you simply have to adopt an active lifestyle and eat at a calorie deficit.

For the next few months, I’m going to work with them to reset their mindset and adopt the best practices. If they can follow through and be consistent, I can’t wait to see their progress one year from now.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “People Think I’m a Sex Worker” — A Week in the Life of a Massage Therapist

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.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“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 #AWeekInTheLife is Lola Salehu, a Nigerian product designer based in Dubai. She tells us about switching from coding to design, the intentional way she sees the world and the most important thing on her bucket list — to change her passport.

MONDAY

I live in the UAE and work for a company in the United Kingdom (UK), so I’m three hours ahead. I can decide to start working at 9 a.m. my time, or noon (9 a.m. UK time). Today, I’m choosing 12 p.m.

But before then, I go to the gym from 7 a.m. to 9, return home and freshen up. I recently started taking hair and skin care seriously, so I spend an hour on those before settling down to a light breakfast of oatmeal.

When I resume work, it’s a lineup of meetings until the end of the day, aligning with other team members and business stakeholders until 3 p.m. Then, meetings with my team members for the next two hours. After that, I could do some hands-on design, run feedback loops for my team or analyse data to get insights that’ll help us decide what to build next.

When I close from work around 7 p.m., I shift to my personal projects. I’m currently working on a course for designers, and volunteering at upcoming tech communities. Then I take a walk and grab dinner, which could be a burger or jollof rice. If I’m feeling fancy, I buy shawarma. When I get home, I eat, and around 10 p.m., I go to bed.

TUESDAY

I lead a team of two product designers, one brand designer and one web designer. While Mondays and Wednesdays are heavy-meeting days, I do more hands-on work on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

As a product designer, my Tuesday can involve collaborating with other teams — marketing, sales, finance, engineering and product teams, etc. I make digital products that work and people can use — phones, laptops, watches or even VR headsets. The products I design must solve problems for both individuals and businesses.

Every company has business goals, and I’m working to achieve a goal every quarter. My job as a product designer is to make people care about how the business intends to solve the problem. It involves elements of storytelling, innovating and prototyping solutions that I think will solve whatever problem the company is looking to solve for its customers.

To do this, I talk with the customers a lot. My job involves a lot of collecting and interpreting data to make sure we’re prioritising what they really want and deciding on what’s nice to have while considering the business objectives. At the end of the day, I need to make sure my team has met those goals.

WEDNESDAY

Today, I worked on testing out a user flow with customers. In product design, a user flow is the path a user takes to complete a task on a website or app. I recorded the process from start to finish and couldn’t help but notice how flexible this job is compared to my previous one.

These days, I’m more flexible with the kind of data I collect and work with. I can watch recorded sessions to observe the behaviours of our customers and make informed product decisions on the fly. Unlike when I was in fintech and couldn’t record certain things. For example, you can’t record sessions on a fintech app in case a user might be typing in their card details.

I loved being at the centre of payments processing in Africa, but fintech in the West is very different from how it works in Africa. Yes, there are regulations, but the government won’t just wake up one day with a policy that would reset your business, for instance.

THURSDAY

I love teaching when I’m not working. That’s why I’m putting together a course for designers. In my spare time, I also have speaking engagements in tech and youth events where I pick a topic and teach people about it. I’m a designer, so naturally, I can’t shut up about design, which is funny because I didn’t always want to be a product designer.

I was a software engineer for two years, and there was this designer at the company I worked. While I’d be scratching my brain over coding a feature, this guy would be designing the next one. I thought it was easy, and I was like, “Omo, I don’t want to be doing 2+2 = X logic coding for the rest of my life.”

Only for me to switch to product design and see pepper. But I realised engineering and product design are pretty much solving the same problem in different ways. Nothing is easier than the other. While coding is logical, design is analytical and creative. I liked this way of solving problems, so I stuck with it.

After work at 6 p.m. today, I went out for a walk and took pictures of the cityscape. When I got back home, I journaled for a bit before sleeping. I love documenting memories of even the most random things and writing or creating photo journals to relive them.

FRIDAY

On Fridays, the TGIF energy starts early. I mean, it’s the weekend!

I see the world in colours and pathways and processes. That’s why I love living in Dubai. This city started as a desert; all they had was sand. But they designed this sprawling city with so much thought and intention, and were successful at it. I apply this mentality to everything I’m doing, and I know everything will come out fine.

But another thing that drives me is my desire to escape the limitations of having a Nigerian passport. While we have a rich history, culture and creativity, there’s not much Nigeria has done for me — instead, it often takes from me.

I want to change my experience and see what the world offers. I don’t want to stay three hours extra at an airport because I’m Nigerian. I don’t want to meet people who’re wary of me because I’m Nigerian. So in five years, I see myself in a new life with a new passport and glorious new adventures.

If you liked this story, you might like this too: “I’m a Firefighter at My Job” — A Week in the Life of a Fintech Marketer

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.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“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” sells gadgets at Computer Village. He tells us about the chaos of the Village and how he manages to stay faithful in a market infamous for dishonesty.

SUNDAY

I sell phones, laptops and accessories in the Lagos Computer Village. My week starts on Sunday night because business almost never stops — na them dey rush us.

From 6 p.m. until around midnight, I respond to messages from people making inquiries. When I receive payment for an order, I verify it and schedule delivery for Monday morning or whenever they need it. Doing so on Sunday nights makes my already busy Mondays more bearable.

MONDAY

I wake up by 5 a.m. every Monday morning to get ready for the week. By 6 a.m, I leave Ogba and head out to my shop in Computer Village, Ikeja. Depending on the traffic situation, I can get to my shop by 7:30 or around 8 a.m. Resumption time is 9 a.m. but I like to arrive early so I can get a head start. Also, the orders from the previous night need to be dispatched as early as possible. If I waited until 9 a.m. to resume, stress would kill me.

I get most of my orders from social media and Whatsapp, from first-time customers and a network I’ve built over the years.

By 12 p.m., I take a two-hour break to either nap, stroll around the Village or go see my girlfriend who lives close by. I head back to the shop at 2 p.m. and keep selling until 6 or 7 p.m. when I close and head home. Sometimes, people keep coming after 6,especially those who have office jobs, and I have to attend to them.

At 7 p.m., I turn off my data, put my phone on silent and place it in my backpack because the way home is dangerous at night. I also put any cash I have into the bag and hold it as if my life depended on it — I’ve been a victim of pick-pocketing before.

Due to Monday’s rush-hour traffic, it takes two or three hours to get home. I have dinner, respond to more inquiries and take more orders until sleep calls.

TUESDAY

Computer Village is wild gan! If you lose guard, you go collect. But even with all the warnings, some people are either too naive or don’t hear word. I saved someone from being duped today.

If you’ve ever been to Computer Village, you know that it’s very easy to get scammed. Everyone knows about buying a phone only to find out that there’s fufu inside, right? That’s old news. The reigning one these days is taking the panel of an older model of a phone and wrapping it on a new model to dupe unsuspecting customers. They can cover the panel of an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 casing.

A woman came to my shop and asked to buy a London-used iPhone 13. The market price of such a phone is ₦430k. She complained that it was too much and went elsewhere. Soon after, she called me and started cussing me out. She called me a thief just because she felt my price was too high. After all, she found someone to sell it to her for almost half my fee.

After she’d finished ranting, I told her it was unnecessary. She could have either told me she wasn’t buying or given me the “I’ll get back to you” line and ghosted. There was no need for her to insult me. She hung up and forwarded a message to me on WhatsApp. Someone was willing to sell it to her at ₦250k.

I did a double-take and asked her if that vendor was in Computer Village. I told her it was impossible for someone to sell an iPhone 13 for so cheap, even if it had faults. She kept arguing, and then, she sent me a photo of the phone. I took one look and knew it was a scam. But she refused to believe me. According to her, I just wanted to chop her money.

I’d have collected my “L” and kept it moving o, but I decided to get her to ask the vendor about the phone. I told her to tell them a fellow vendor was asking. The vendor admitted that it was an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 case.

She started wondering why they didn’t tell her from the beginning. In Computer Village? Where almost everybody is hustling by hook or crook? Plis dear!

I don’t take disrespect lightly, so after that conversation, I deleted her number along with the Whatsapp conversation. I was angry.

WEDNESDAY

In Computer Village, every day, new drama. Everybody thinks they’re smart — not just traders; even customers do dishonest shit. But me I sha know how to give close marking.

Today at the shop, these three guys came to buy laptops and behaved strangely. I know there are customers who can’t make up their minds, but these ones rubbed me off the wrong way.

I closed the door and stood by it, making sure all three guys were inside. As they kept asking for laptops, dropping them and asking for more, me I knew it was “format”. I promptly texted my shop assistant to watch them closely and ensure she returned every laptop to the show glass as soon as they dropped it so that we won’t hear stories that touch. The guys got frustrated and left eventually. Awon oloshi.

Editor’s pick: The Zikoko Guide to Surviving Computer Village

THURSDAY

The first rule of Computer Village is to never follow anybody you don’t know. Those boys and men who prowl the streets, who don’t have shops, avoid them. The best thing is to have a trusted plug or get a referral. Even if you don’t know where you’re going, you must never show it. Find a proper shop and do your business; never trust a stranger.

People fall victim every day. Like today, I went to get a spare part from a colleague and found somebody sitting in his doorway. After some time, people at the shop noticed he wasn’t doing anything, so we asked him to leave if he didn’t have any business there.

The guy (let’s call him Bayo) told us he was waiting for someone. Who? He mentioned someone nobody had heard about. We suspected foul play and asked what happened. This man told us he needed to change his screen, so when he got to the Village, someone approached him and said he could fix it. But first, Bayo had to give him ₦15k to buy a new screen as he was just an engineer. When he was done, Bayo would complete the payment for workmanship.

The man brought Bayo to the shop and told him to wait, but hours later, neither screen nor “engineer” was anywhere to be found. We just told Bayo, “Your phone don go. Sha dey go house.”

We taunted him sha, because that’s how we do. How you go follow person wey you no know like zombie? At least, whenever he hears gist about Computer Village, he too will have a story to tell.

FRIDAY

In Computer Village, everybody minds their business. If you see someone getting duped, mind your business. Most times, it’s their greed that’s getting the better of them. Unless you want to put yourself in trouble, just keep it moving.

Sometimes, a deal goes bad and the customer returns. Maybe they were sold something that didn’t last as long as expected or developed a fault. They’re not coming back peacefully; they’re coming back with “Indaboski”. Unless I know the seller and can vouch for them, in which case I’ll step in and try to resolve the conflict, but if I don’t know them? As I see the angry customer starting go cause a scene, I’ll just do “eyes right”.

The biggest lesson I’ve learnt is to be a straightforward person. When I started this business in 2013, I was lucky to be handheld by the kindest vendor, and his values have stayed with me.

So even though Computer Village is infamous for deception, I choose to keep my customers happy because nothing matters to me more than peace of mind. I treat everyone as if they’re my only customer, and it has worked for me so far. I get a significant amount of referrals weekly.

Thankfully, my customers treat me the same way.

If you enjoyed this “A Week in the Life”, check out: A Week in the Life of a Computer Technician Selling Ewa Agoyin on the Side

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.

Yes, I want to be featured!
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.

When this ghostwriter started writing in 2014, her rate was ₦1 per word. 8 years later, she’s making 7 figures per project. Maybe one day she’ll release a book with her name but right now, she doesn’t care — as long as the pay is good. This is #AWeekInTheLife of Ebimoboere Ibinabo Dan-Asisah.

MONDAY

I work from home and I’m my own boss, so my day can start anytime, and waking up for me is vibes and inshallah. But when I’m feeling responsible, I wake up around 10 a.m. It takes an hour for my brain to boot completely, and then, I find something random to read for the next hour — could be an article or story online.

By around 11-ish, I make coffee, shower, dress up, open my laptop and get to writing. For the next four hours, I’ll grind out about 7,000 words. I average about 1,000 words every thirty-or-so minutes, a writing muscle I’ve built over the past ten years. It helps when I’m on a deadline; I write even faster. But there are some jobs that are so complex I simply cannot rush because doing so would be trying to kill myself.

By 5 p.m., I take a two-hour break to cook or read something casual. Around 7, I’m back to work, but this time, I make corrections and review what I’ve written — basically become my own editor. By 9 p.m., I take another break to watch a movie or hang out with my partner, who’s also my roommate.

Depending on how much work I have to do, after this break, I could either prepare for bed or go back to writing till 4 a.m.

TUESDAY

I ghostwrite anything from articles to research papers to full-length books. My writing process is simple. Usually, a client approaches me with a brief. This brief contains the project requirements and guidelines or plotlines to follow. Once we agree on terms and conditions, I get to work. If it’s a biography, I conduct interviews. Then, I mimic what I think would be the client’s writing style. Once I finish writing, and the client is satisfied, they buy the work from me. What that means is I have no ownership of the work. I have no copyright, no royalties, no cuts from sales or merchandising or movie rights.

I have nothing to do with the work once I’m done writing. I’ve written a few things that became big, but I can’t take credit. It doesn’t bother me, maybe because when I started writing, my main motivation was money. I didn’t go into it because I wanted my name on the New York Times Best Seller list. I didn’t have those dreams when I first started. All I wanted was to get paid. It’s only now that it’s beginning to occur to me that I may need to put my name on something and let people know how good I am, because I’m good.

But even then, it’s still just a back-burner desire. I’m working on a novel, but I’ll complete it in my own time. There’s no rush. Right now, I’m good with earning six figures consistently.

WEDNESDAY

When I woke up today, it hit me that I’ve been ghostwriting for so long, I now feel like a robot. But I love it because it’s given me an opportunity to be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to, write and earn a living from it.

Ten years ago (in 2014), if you’d told me that I’d have a career as a ghostwriter, I wouldn’t even have known what that meant.

I stumbled into ghostwriting because I was poor and needed money. I wasn’t just in the trenches — If there was a rung below the trenches, that’s where I was. During the holidays before I started 300 level, I went home and there was no money. I had to do some introspection to figure out how to earn and help with the upkeep at home. I didn’t have any fantastic artistic or technical skills. The only thing I could do was write.

I didn’t even consider myself a writer because the only time I’d ever done any writing was in secondary school — English essays in classwork and exams. But at that point, my only options were writing or sex work. I decided to try writing first.

I reached out to friends and told them I was looking for writing jobs. Luckily, someone introduced me to a guy who was paying ₦1 per word; he asked me to send samples of my work. I didn’t have any samples, so I quickly wrote an article of 750 words and sent it over. He gave me an assignment to write 3,000 words in two days and paid me ₦3k for it — the first money I ever made. I was so excited.

THURSDAY

Today, after coffee, I worked on my current project, a sci-fi novella in a dystopian future. Taking a break, I let my mind wander.

Being a ghostwriter is interesting because I get to write on a diverse range of topics. There’s literally no genre I’ve not written about, from the most niche topics to the most technical and even batshit crazy stuff.

Like the time I started, in those dark days when I was earning ₦1 per word, there was this guy who had a fetish for eating boiled eggs and farting. I got him through a middle man. When I looked at the brief: a 3,000-word erotica about swallowing boiled eggs whole and farting. I was mortified, but I needed to eat. So I accepted it.

During that period, I wrote the most unhinged and twisted stories. There was a time when PornHub was the default page in my phone’s browser. Think of anything. There’s porn for it. I had to do tons of research because these clients needed the most specific descriptions. There’s even a subgenre of porn called vore, where people get sexually aroused from seeing people get swallowed or imagining being swallowed whole. I remember writing one about Godzilla flinging people into its mouth. I’ve come across people who get off from the wildest things.

But I’m thankful I no longer have to write things like that. I started writing around 2014 and wrote at ₦1 for about six years, until I graduated from university, fell out with parents, got heartbroken by my boyfriend at the time. So I took on a writing job. My boss was toxic and kept devaluing my work. She’d broke-shame me because she knew I was earning peanuts from ghostwriting, which was ironic because she only paid me ₦50k a month.

In my personal life, shit got real for me. I had a law degree, but I wasn’t ready to go to law school only to come back and work for ₦25k while running errands for whatever law firm.

In 2019, I got duped. I got a gig to write a dark erotic romance novel, which is a genre of fucked-up love stories. I was excited for the project because it’s a genre I really liked, and also the most money I would’ve made at the time. The 50,000-word project would earn me ₦150k at ₦3 per word. The client paid me ₦50k up front and was supposed to complete the payment when I was done.

Turbocharged, I finished the book in record time. But in excitement, I made a huge mistake — I sent the entire manuscript before receiving payment. He ghosted me. It broke my heart. I initially wanted to publish it, but I didn’t even know the first thing about publishing.

In 2020, I was depressed and my writing wasn’t giving. When I tried to kill myself, I knew I had to leave my parent’s house in Port Harcourt. I moved to Lagos and squatted with a male friend for some time. Not a great time because his girlfriend wasn’t okay with the arrangement. I was stranded, and it was then I realised I could no longer write at ₦1 for a word.

When I got fired from the writing job I hated, I increased my rates to ₦5 per word. Clients resisted. Many of them ran away, but two clients liked my work too much to let me go. After a couple of months, I raised my rates yet again to ₦10 per word and got even less patronage. But I didn’t budge.

In 2021, I realised I was shortchanging myself because I’m too fucking good to be counting words. So I decided to start charging per project. While I endured the wilderness for a while, eventually, an acquaintance recommended me to a client who agreed to pay me what I asked for — six figures! He told me his projects earned him as much as ₦10m per job.

Everything changed for me. In the past year, the least money I’ve earned from a project is ₦780k. And I don’t intend to ever go lower. If it’s not paying me six zeroes, I don’t want. One of the projects I’m currently working on will earn me ₦10m when completed.

But it isn’t all roses. I’m a freelancer, so jobs don’t come consistently. Sometimes, it rains; sometimes, it’s a drought.

FRIDAY

It’s been a hectic week. Today, I’m just going to unwind. I’ll resist the temptation to open my laptop. I may work tomorrow, but today, I’ll go to Landmark Beach. On my way back, I’ll stop by my favourite spot on the Island to drink craft beer.

When I come back home, I’ll cook seafood pasta and drink merlot. Problem no dey finish. Tomorrow, we go again.

ALSO READ: A Week in the Life of a Bookstagrammer Hoping to Go Global

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.

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In 2019, Christian Obi, popular as the “Igbo Wolf”, made his first “official” Instagram skit.

Before then, he just made videos for fun, sharing them with his “two followers on Instagram”. But he soon got tired of making skits because his old LG mobile was barely holding on for life.

Two years later, in August 2021, he bought an iPhone and decided to start making video skits again. But he couldn’t have imagined how ready the world was for his content. He went viral just two days after he bought the phone.

Inspired by a TikTok trend of Nollywood queen mothers, he recorded a video of his face with a mermaid underwater filter, reeling out threats to swimmers. The video was an instant hit.

The natural thing to do would’ve been to ride on this popularity and milk the content style as much as possible, but Igbo Wolf didn’t do that. He wasn’t confident having not done comedy for a while. So he took a step back.

“With TikTok,” he tells me. “You don’t need to create original content.” Since Tiktokers can remix other creators’ content or just hop on trending sounds, he decided to hang around in that space for a while.

But one afternoon in early 2021, he remembered a former classmate in secondary school. The student, Kunle Ogunfowokan, had a teacher who always mispronounced his name with a deep Igbo intonation. Christian had an idea. He swiped to his Camera app and recorded a skit which would quickly become another internet sensation.

The idea was simple: take on an Igbo lecturer persona, who he named Professor Uwa (pronounced “Pro-fess-uu-wa”) and do a roll call of Yoruba student names which had lewd or negative meanings in Igbo. But a mistake happened while shooting that would launch him into pop-culture relevance.

“When making videos, I don’t like cutting and joining,” Igbo Wolf says. “So I have to do everything right in one take.” So while filming, after his Professor Uwa character listed out the Yoruba names, he forgot his lines at the end. But he needed a conclusion, so he said, “Dazz ya name?” on the spot and ended the video.

“It made me cringe,” Igbo Wolf tells me, “And I wanted to remove it.” But he eventually decided to let it stay anyway. “Instinct,” He recalls. “I just said, ‘let me leave it there.’”

When he posted the video on Twitter at 6:24 p.m. on September 21st, 2021, he didn’t expect his line to become an internet meme. “The next morning, I started seeing, ‘Dazz ya name’ everywhere!”

Igbo lecturers in Yoruba schools 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/3W35nWSoDA
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) September 21, 2021

It took him some time to remember that he’d even used the line, as he had to rewatch the video himself to see and hear it. To this day, he still doesn’t understand why people like the phrase, but as long as it gets the people going, he’s happy with it.

However, Igbo Wolf is not one to rest on his laurels. While he initially rode on its popularity, releasing viral video after video, he decided to retire the Professor Uwa character. His reason? He sees himself as an actor and wants to continue evolving.

Editor’s pick: QUIZ: What Career Should You Actually Have?

And his broad portfolio of comic personas is a testament to his creative ability. Several more characters have hit the limelight. From the frowning Work Chris who’s ironically always happy to go to work, to the toxic, uber-religious RonkeHR; his characters touch across relatable themes in Nigeria’s youth culture.

When asked how he consistently hits the Nigerian youth cultural nerve, he admits that his characters are a reflection of his state of mind at the time he creates them. When people see comic characters living out their reality, they fuck with them. Take the “happy” Chris meme, for example.

Excited to go give my all at work this week pic.twitter.com/SoC55NVyX8
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) March 21, 2022

In December 2021, Igbo Wolf’s year-end holiday was restful. For the first time in a long while, he took a break from his product manager day job, hung out with friends, cooked, ate and played games. But when the time came to resume work on January 4th, 2022, he struggled to find the energy to get out of bed. When he finally got to the gate of his workplace, he turned and went into the restaurant opposite it to gather himself.

While there, he tweeted a selfie of him grimacing and captioned it “Work is such a fun adult activity especially after spending 2 weeks consistently getting drunk and eating”. He returned to his office at around 11 a.m.

Work is such a fun adult activity especially after spending 2 weeks consistently getting drunk and eating pic.twitter.com/yk7Rtp6Hto
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) January 5, 2022

He continued taking selfies, captioning them in a similar way, until the end of January. “It wasn’t just content for me,” he says. “I was miserable, and [making those tweets] was my own way of dealing with stuff.”

So when his first “Happy to be at work” tweet blew up in February, he felt dejected.

“It wasn’t just Nigerians. There were other Africans and white people,” he says. And when people started hailing his comedic prowess with compliments like, “Nigerian people understood the assignment”, Igbo Wolf couldn’t deal. “It wasn’t even an assignment, to begin with. It was just my way of dealing with my state of mind, but now, I was content to these people? I felt like they had taken something away from me.”

That day, he resolved not to post again. But the following morning, he experienced the same sadness that plagued him the day before, so he took another selfie and tweeted it, again with an ironic caption. More people could relate to his struggles and respond with selfies of their own tired, stressed faces with “happy to be at work” captions. Igbo Wolf had to get used to being a pop-culture trendsetter.

The turning point, he tells me, was when he attended an event and some guests were excited to meet him. The following Monday, he opened his Twitter DMs to see messages from some of the guests, telling him they were waiting for him to make his usual Monday morning tweet.

Other characters in his portfolio are just as relatable. Work Chris is the Nigerian youth who has to deal with toxic workplaces, Mama Elo is Elon Musk’s mother reimagined as Nigerian and Professor Uwa is most Igbo lecturers who’ve found themselves teaching in a Yoruba town.

An interesting aspect of Igbo Wolf’s skit-making is that he keeps the use of slapstick to the minimum and never employs exaggerated voiceovers or sound effects. “I hate them”, he says. “Because I see myself as an actor.” He does his best to get into character and lets his acting and mannerisms carry the humour. Also, he shoots his skits indoors when no one else is around, as he considers himself a shy, indoorsy person — a testament to his artist name which is a combination of his spirit animal (lone wolf) and his ethnicity (Igbo).

But Igbo Wolf is not afraid to deviate from his creative formula. He’s constantly writing stories; the pressure to keep up with his popularity keeps him grounded. To hack productivity, he always has at least six skits banked.

When he’s not producing viral content, he’s working as a product manager in Lagos, a job that has inspired some of his most iconic videos. I asked him if going to work still causes him pain. His response? Not really. But in future, he hopes to get a remote work arrangement, so he has more time to create entertaining content and achieve a perfect balance between his day job and his content creator life.

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A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories 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.

On today’s #AWeekInTheLife, we feature Samiat Salami, who designs textile prints which she uses to make ready-to-wear clothes and home decor. She walks us through her design process, the pains of running a global business in Nigeria and how difficult it is to find plus-size models for her robes.

MONDAY

I’m not an early riser because I wake up multiple times during the night, so I usually get out of bed at 9 a.m. Because I have asthma and tend to wake up with a sore throat thanks to the air conditioner (AC), the first thing I do is have a cup of tea to help me clear my sinuses.

I try not to open my phone or computer first thing in the morning because if I do, anxiety will kick in, and I’ll get caught up in the slog of it all for the rest of the day. So while enjoying my beverage, I like to live in the moment for a bit; I can read a chapter of fiction on my toilet seat or mosey around the house.

By 10 a.m., I finally switch my phone on. And the minute I do that, it’s an avalanche that never ends, back-to-back calls or emails or whatever else I need to catch up on.

As a textile designer, I work with many artisans, and it’s a lot of stress! I get so many calls from people going, “We’ve run out of blah blah blah”, “Did you really want it this way?” and “Because we did it this way the last time and you didn’t like it, we thought we have to ask you specifically before…” Yeah, there’s just a whole bunch of back-and-forths.

I also work with manufacturers who sew my designs into actual products. So I’ll need to give and receive feedback from them as well. Then, I have to work with retailers I sell my stuff to in the US, and they would usually have follow-up questions. I also do a healthy amount of customer service following up with direct online orders and on social media.

Around 1 p.m., my team members come to my house where the living room doubles as my studio, where all the following-up comes to a head. All the “Do we like this print?” “Do we not?” “Will this print be better for robes or tableware?” “Do we need to talk about different marketing ideas?” “Do we need to shoot a campaign?” “Are we planning for this?” questions get answered from 1 – 6 or 7 p.m. We just go ham and it’s pretty intense. The day tends to be very fast-paced, but we make sure to take short breaks for lunch and to catch our breaths.

By 6 p.m., I’m hammered and restless. So when everybody leaves, all I want to do is go for a walk around my estate. I have a restless body that’s always trying to keep up with my mind and walking helps me catch up. When I get back, I just collapse into bed.

Samiat Salami

TUESDAY

My process of designing textiles begins with prints and patterns. I’m inspired a lot by the flora and fauna of Nigeria, and I do a lot of research for each collection, about the origin of a plant, how it falls, what it’s like, the colours… I often take long walks in nature, taking loads of pictures of flowers and other beautiful things I see. I curate all these photos into a mood board. Then I work with my illustrator to refine them.

For example, for the hibiscus prints I’ve been working on for months, it was just me taking loads of different species of hibiscuses I’ve seen in nature. I took pictures in Nigeria, and in California and Florida. After photographing, I’ll study the patterns, like how they go from red to yellow, for example.

Next, I work with my illustrator to create digital designs inspired by my mood board. Then we’ll send them to a really lovely man in Osogbo with whom I like to work, and fabrics for him to hand-draw the patterns on — he has to translate our illustrations into something that’s a lot more illustrative by hand. When he’s done creating the sample prints, we’ll go through several iterations until we get it right.

WEDNESDAY

I only meet my team about three times a week, so when I’m not having anyone come around my apartment, like today, I’m running around Lagos.

After catching up on emails and correspondence at around 12 p.m., I head out to Surulere or Lekki where my manufacturers operate, to approve things and discuss samples and finer details of new products.

For example, if I’m doing a fit test — putting a garment on a fit model — I’ll have to make different iterations to get it right, and that can take a whole day because it involves a lot of back-and-forths. It’s like: “cut it”, “put it on”, “twist it this way”, “put it back on”, and so on…

I use myself a lot, which is interesting because I’m not the typical fit model. I have very small body parts, and I’m only five-two. When people think of models, they’re typically tall and slender and have no curves. But that doesn’t translate into the body of many Nigerian women. This is why so many people struggle with traditional brands.

For me, I’m smallish, and I have thighs and boobs, and all sorts of things that aren’t straight, so I need to know how the clothes fit me so I can translate how it would fit other body types. This is why I’m size-inclusive. One of the reasons I started my brand is that I got frustrated struggling to find clothes that fit me.

So now, I make clothes for people of different sizes: people who are larger, people who are thinner, people who are top-heavy or bottom-heavy, etc. I want everybody to feel comfortable and safe and happy in my clothes. I don’t want anyone to have to feel like they’re conforming to any standard of beauty I’m setting. This is not about me. It’s about you feeling fucking great in whatever I make for you.

But it’s been really difficult for me to find models above a certain size, and I don’t think it’s because we don’t have women like that. Such women shy away from that industry because they’re often told that they’re not the ideal of beauty. There are cultures that find only thin people attractive, but that’s not Nigerian. I’m currently on the lookout for bigger models.

THURSDAY

One of the most frustrating parts of my work is that the manufacturing industry in Nigeria doesn’t have a solid structure yet. Countries like India, Indonesia, Morocco and Mexico, all have long histories of artisanship that have been vetted and worked with other countries. There are whole brands, American and British, that go to places like India to mass-manufacture. These countries already have legacy systems in place for everything. We don’t have that yet in Nigeria; we don’t have working production systems, so it’s difficult to get things done.

So I find myself having to build everything from the ground. It’s gruelling, but it’s me that chose this life.

Because of this, problems come up all the time in manufacturing. For instance, I only work with 100% Nigerian cotton, like Funtua. Funtua is not the kind of thing I can just go to the market in Lagos and buy because I manufacture in such large quantities, so I buy thousands of yards at a time. I get it from Kano. And now, there are problems like insecurity and terrorism plaguing that area, so these materials are becoming increasingly difficult to get.

My suppliers can just increase their prices in a blink of an eye because of all the inflation and uncertainty. Imagine how much this affects my estimates and budgets. Things like this affect production and delivery to customers. I’m not really good with sloppy work, and my perfectionist self has to deal with all these variables. It’s so tiring.

FRIDAY

Today, I received satisfactory feedback from a client. It’s the best thing in the world for me. I love that twinkle in their eyes when they try something on and go, “I look fabulous”. Especially the robes, as they tend to have a kind of decadent feel so every time someone puts them on, I can see their demeanour change. They take on this kind of rich aunty or uncle vibes, and I’m just like, “I’m here for it!”

Seeing people love something I made, after all the labour, brings me unspeakable joy. It’s especially fulfilling because my designs don’t always translate properly to print. So when we finally get it right and people fuck with it, that “oh, I made a beautiful thing” feeling washes over me.

SATURDAY

I went to Ibadan with my team today. I’ve always had this fascination with the city. As a child, one of my many ambitions was to study Yoruba and teach at the University of Ibadan (UI). Ibadan is one of those cities where the myth of it is so rich and so closely tied to what it means to be Yoruba. It has hills and red sand, a rustic feel and a certain kind of magic you can’t find in Lagos. Ife is another such city.

The last time I visited Ibadan, I knew I wanted to shoot a campaign there. So when we got into Ibadan today by train, we went straight to Amala Skye in Bodija to get our amala fix. Mehn, I ate the best ogunfe I’ve ever had. Then, we lodged at the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA) at Moniya.

I’m excited about this campaign because I’m working with an all-women team. I love when I get to work with women. The energy is always different. I like working with men too, but working with a bunch of creative women in the same room? The energy is kind of magnetic and beautiful. We’ll continue shooting in choice locations around the city for the next few days, and I can’t wait for all the beauty that’ll come out of this project.

READ ALSO: A Week in the Life of an Instagram Thrift Vendor

Check back every Tuesday by 9 a.m. for more “A Week in the Life” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, interview me!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories 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 today’s A Week in the Life is a massage therapist. He tells us about the stereotypes that plague his hustle, how he deals with sexual assault but why he loves what he does anyway.

MONDAY

I don’t have a schedule because every day is different and I work Sunday to Sunday. Sometimes, I wake up at 4 a.m., sometimes, at 5 or 6 a.m. If the previous day was very busy, I may even wake up by 9 a.m. Like today.

My schedule is very tight and it gets overwhelming pretty quickly. Yesterday, I worked till I was sore, so I needed to rest well. When I wake up at 9 a.m. today, the first thing I do is to pray. After prayers, I check my phone because nine out of ten times, prospective clients DM me on social media. They prefer to text than to call, so before I prepare for the day, I make sure I catch up on messages.

I’m a freelancer, but I’m associated with spas in town. I pay these spas a percentage of my earnings per session. This is how booking works: People text me to introduce themselves and check if I’m available. While discussing with a prospective client, I reach out to the nearest spa to find out if the requested time slot is free. If it’s not, I have to work with the client and the spa to find a more suitable time.

Sometimes, people want private service in their homes, hotel rooms, offices, lounge, et cetera. These sessions cost more than spa sessions because of logistics — I have to transport my mobile massage kit to their location, and it takes more time to move to and from their location than if they come to the spa.

There are a few terms and conditions clients have to agree to before the booking is confirmed. One, the payment. Two, they must be available at the time slot they’re booking. And three, if they want to cancel, they need to reschedule or cancel at least three hours before the time. Advance payments are non-refundable.

I charge from ₦20k upwards for spa sessions, while private service fees start from ₦30k depending on the duration of the massage and the distance.

I always leave for the spa at least one hour before an appointment so I can relax and get set before the client comes in for their massage. If it’s a first-timer, I explain the procedure and walk them through the process so they can be relaxed. I also ask them if they have any allergies.

When we’re ready, I get them to dress down to their comfort level; a professional massage therapist does not use the term “undress” or “naked” because the profession itself is already oversexualised. I show them to the bathroom and leave the room so they can get ready. By the time I return, they should have laid face-down on the table.

TUESDAY

I have two appointments today: a spa session and a private session at 12 p.m and 4 p.m. respectively. The client at the spa is a man who needs a deep tissue massage, while the 4 p.m. is a woman who needs a Swedish massage at her apartment in Wuse.

Swedish is the mildest kind of massage that involves long strokes in a therapeutic manner, while deep tissue massages require slow, deep strokes with a lot more pressure. For carrier oils, my favourite oil to use is almond oil, but it’s very expensive. I also use mustard seed oil and coconut oil. For essential oils, I use lavender or mint oil. Essential oils are very potent and should be used in tiny quantities, only a few drops at a time. They need carrier oils to dilute them. If I have a handful of coconut oil, for example, I only need a drop of essential oil.

In my experience, women ask for Swedish massage more while men are more likely to request deep tissue. It could be that men’s skins are tougher and they like to feel more pressure. Only one man has ever asked me for a Swedish massage.

I also offer hot stone massages, pre and post-natal massages, head massages, feet massages, reflexology and aromatherapy, but Swedish and deep tissue are the most requested.

Just as I’m about to close for the day at 6 p.m., a lady DMs me on Instagram to ask if I can come to massage her in her apartment in Kubwa. I could use the extra cash, but Kubwa is far from where I live (in Jikwoyi). I’m very tired, so I ask her to reschedule for the next day. I’m pretty flexible with my job, but I try not to be too available because massaging people takes a lot of concentration and effort. If I don’t rest, I’ll burn out very fast.

WEDNESDAY

When people hear I’m a massage therapist, they automatically think I’m a sex worker. People ask me all the time whether I offer “happy endings”. I don’t.

I’ve been called a prostitute or porn star several times. We live in a society where a lot of things are sexualised; we give a sexual connotation to many things. Also, many people had their first encounter with massages from porn. So there’s a mindset that that is how we massage therapists behave exactly as they are portrayed in porn.

A big part of my job is trying to help people unlearn such stereotypes and see the benefits of massage. My job is to help people relax, offer relief to aching muscles, and generally, make people feel better. There’s an art and science to being a massage therapist.

Unfortunately, sexual harassment and assault are common occupational hazards. While massaging today’s client, she grabbed my crotch and was surprised that I wasn’t hard. According to her, she was good looking, so why didn’t I have an erection?

I told her, “Madam, I’m only doing my job. You’re paying me for a service. I don’t know you from Adam, so why would I want to risk my image, name and freedom to do something stupid?”

Being a massage therapist is a very sensitive job. The fact that someone can pay and trust me enough to put themselves in a vulnerable state means a lot to me. It involves a high level of trust, and I can’t take advantage of that.

Also, one bad review can ruin my reputation. Navigating incidences like this is very dicey, so I always try to keep it as professional as possible. Even mere gossip can ruin me. Nobody likes to be harassed, that’s why I’m always on my guard. The way I see it, I’m a soldier. What soldier goes to war without being prepared? I cleared the woman and told her not to try it again.

THURSDAY

I massage all genders, but the majority of my clients are women. Unfortunately, I also get to meet homophobic people. Someone might say, “A man touching me doesn’t feel right”, and then, request a female massage therapist. I’ve also had heterosexual men request a male massage therapist. Either way, I’ve learnt to respect people’s choices and only go where they sent me work.

There are body parts I never touch. I don’t touch men’s genitals. I only offer breast and yoni massages — “Yoni” means vulva — to a very select pool of clients. And it depends on my intuition. For example, if a 21-year-old lady asked for a yoni massage, I’d say no.

Today, I massaged three clients, two men and one woman, all at the spa. By the time I got back home, I was too tired to even eat, so I just slept off.

FRIDAY

While I was waiting for my 10 a.m. client today, I started reflecting on my career. I’ve been a massage therapist since 2017 even though it’s not something I expected to be. I studied mass communication and was a journalist for a bit after graduation. But in 2015, during a trip to Abuja, I had a five-star stay at a hotel with complimentary spa treatment, and my life changed. For the next two years, I learnt massage therapy on the side.

I didn’t exactly like my job and the workplace, and I’d been planning to leave anyway. After I left the job in 2017, things became very tight for me, but one day, a friend whose feet I used to massage, suggested I do it full-time. She referred me to a physiotherapist who trained me professionally.

In 2018, I got loans from friends, bought a massage bed. I was using a Blackberry previously and it was very limited. So I bought an android phone as well. Then I dived into massage therapy full-time and started building my practice. In 2022, I’m well on my way to fulfillment.

Nothing satisfies me more than people expressing gratitude after I’ve massaged them. It’s one thing for people to pay for a service, but it hits different when people are so grateful that they pay me nicely and refer me to new clients. The day a celebrity client paid me 100k for a one-hour massage session, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I also got a tip!

There’s nothing I love more than seeing people feel better. Massage therapy helps fight depression and insomnia, encourages stress relief and boosts the immune system. The best compliment anyone can give me is to tell me they feel lighter and better after a massage session. When I see a client snoring on my massage table, it means I’ve finished work.

My ideal future would be to own a spa, get an international certification and travel around the world.

ALSO READ: “Abuja Big Boys Are the Worst” — A Week in the Life of a Nightlife Content Creator

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday 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.

Yes, interview me!
When it comes to conversations on the internet, the topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. So I decided to find out more about how people are managing their relationships across different income brackets.

Today, I’m speaking with Kingsley* 28, a lawyer and content writer based in Abuja, and had him explain how he’s holding down his one-year-old relationship on a ₦180k salary.

Total monthly income

Around ₦180k monthly (salary is ₦100k, freelance jobs cover for the rest). I used to earn an extra ₦100k from driving for a cab service, but the car is no longer available.

Bills and recurring expenses

Rent is ₦450,000.

Utilities and subscriptions are recurring expenditures: Electricity, water, and cooking gas. I have to restock my kitchen and toiletries too. Then other miscellaneous expenses like cab fares and fast food.

Entertainment: Netflix and Amazon for movie streaming, and The Athletic for football analysis. I also read The Economist and The Atlantic. Sometimes when I feel like it, I subscribe to Medium’s premium plan too.

Black tax: I send my grandmother some money. It’s not a consistent sum. It varies from time to time. There’s also the occasional billing from acquaintances.

Savings: I’m involved in two different contributory saving thrifts. That’s how I save for rent and unforeseen expenses.

How long have you been in a relationship?

A little over a year. Thirteen months and four days.

How much does your partner earn?

About ₦100k monthly. I may be wrong, sha. I try not to concern myself with my partner’s finances.

How did y’all start dating?

I met my partner on Facebook and we got talking; we were friends for about four months which gave me insight into her work, dreams and goals and life in general. From our conversations, I knew I was going to ask her out. She was rounding off NYSC but I waited until she got settled in her own place before I asked her to be my girlfriend.

Why did you wait till she settled down before asking her to be your girlfriend?

Because it was important to date someone that wasn’t dependent on me. My previous partner was a university student. And even though she didn’t feel entitled to my money, she still had university student problems that she complained about, which would prompt me to step in.

When that relationship ended, I was still in law school, so I decided that my next partner would need to be financially independent. After law school, I got employed and stayed single for about two years. I went on dates and hoed around for a bit. But I kept in mind that I would only get into a relationship that wouldn’t require me to be a breadwinner.

RELATED: QUIZ: How Much of a Hoe Are You on a Scale of 0-10?

How much do you budget for relationship sturvs?

Not much. We don’t live in the same city (she lives in Lagos), so there’s not much to do with money except the times she visits. When she’s coming over, I pay for half of her return flight ticket (economy class), but I handle the travel expenses myself when I visit her, LMAO. Other than flight expenses, birthday gifts, and occasional loans, it’s a budget-friendly relationship.

Walk me through a typical staycation when either of you visits the other

When I’m alone, I typically just have rice, noodles and other Nigerian bachelor food staples. But when she’s over, I stock my kitchen like a 35-year-old with a family by buying foodstuff I typically don’t on a regular day. I buy wine, typically sweet wine because that’s what my girlfriend prefers. Four Cousins is the most recurring so I gats just load up small. She does most of the food shopping, especially spices, seafood, etc.

She doesn’t spend more than a week when she visits, and when we do go out to eat, we go to relatively inexpensive restaurants.

A decent restaurant in Abuja is fairly pricey, so each restaurant outing is between ₦12–₦15k, depending on where we go and what we eat. We’re most likely to eat rice or pasta.

We go on these dates once or twice per visit — not more than twice sha. It depends on how much money is available. Sometimes, she foots the bills. But I know I spend around ₦40k on dating whenever she’s around. I love watching movies with loved ones, so we go to the movies too.

We also spend a lot of time indoors, eating and cuddling. It’s pretty much the same routine when I visit her in Lagos.

Now that you’re in a serious relationship, what kind of conversations do you have with your woman about money?

I’m still not comfortable discussing my finances with my people in detail — even with my parents. Even though my partner is open about her money, I don’t ask her about it because I don’t want to know. She’s complained that I’m not particularly eager to talk about money. I know that when we get married, I’ll need to be fully transparent about my finances, so I’m working on myself. Right now, we still live pretty different lives in different cities, so until then.

That being said, we do help each other out when either of us is in a tight spot financially. When she needs help with a nonessential expense, she playfully asks. If I can afford it, I pay for it. I appreciate the relationship because she doesn’t put me under pressure, and I’m not ashamed that I don’t have plenty of money. She also sends me money when she can.

RELATED: Why Don’t Nigerians Talk About Their Personal Income?

Do you have a financial safety net?

Yes, I have some savings and I’m involved in two different thrift groups. I have about ₦700k in total savings, which will be cut in half when I take my rent out of it, so not really a safety net, but then we go again. I’m positive of a major boost in income in the coming months, sha, as I’ve started considering more lucrative job offers from a couple of organisations.

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

I’m not the kind of person who dreams of becoming wealthy or taking over the world. I just want to be able to raise a family and give my children a comfortable life. If I hit upper-middle class, I’m fine.

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A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories 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 today’s A Week in the Life is Efe Edosio, a video producer. His work involves planning, implementing and supervising all of the elements of a video project. He tells me about having to dial back on his creativity with difficult clients and what it’ll take to get him to 10/10 career satisfaction score.

MONDAY

Mondays are pretty chill for me. I wake up at 9 a.m., and I’m glad I don’t have to get up and go. I even call my friends who have nine-to-fives and remind them that I’m at home while they’re at work.

But I do have to work. I like to describe myself as a visual storyteller with a focus on video content. My Mondays are for admin work. I have meetings scheduled with my editors from 10 a.m. till noon. In these meetings, we set the tone of work for the week. We assess the videos that were shot over the previous week and decide on things like post-production processes and delivery timelines.

I’m a freelancer who has built a network of clientele, so I get all my gigs from referrals. This means I also have to report to clients and stakeholders directly. After the editorial meeting, I meet with clients and go over the projects with the information from the discussion with my editors.

Today, I finished all my meetings at 1 p.m. and was free for the rest of the day. Last week was really stressful, and I’d spent the weekend working. Since I was free, I decided I needed a real break, so I went to Landmark beach and relaxed for a couple of hours, taking in the sights and de-stressing.

By 6 p.m., I booked a cab and headed home, but the two-hour traffic from VI to Iwaya almost destroyed all the relaxation I’d gained during my time-out. Still, I managed to get home in high spirits. I cooked myself dinner, watched a movie and went to bed.

TUESDAY

The hardest part of my job is having to cut down on my creativity just to meet clients’ expectations.

As a creative video producer, here’s what happens when I’m in talks with clients. I’m building up the story and the angle I believe is the best way to tell the story that the client wants to be told. My creative juices are pumping, and I’m excited about the project. Then the client comes in and is like, “Noooo. We don’t like this angle. Can you do it like this?”

Having to bend my creativity to suit clients is usually hard, but the client is king, and I have to find that point where my creativity and the client’s expectations complement each other. That way, I’m delivering what they want in the most creative way possible. But some clients are indecisive and keep changing things. Like today.

The client had agreed with my ideas and direction, and we had gone into pre-production on their ad. Midway through shooting, one of the founders came on set and said, “Yeah, I don’t think this should be like this. I don’t think this’ll work.” And in my head, I was like, “What the hell?” This is something we’d already agreed on with his team. We were all on the same page, so where’s all this coming from? I was in the middle of doing what they wanted.

A lot of people underrate how much work is done, and how expensive it is to produce a professional video. People also think shooting is the main work, but that’s not true; a lot of work is done during pre-production before we even bring out our cameras.

But you can’t blow up on your client. I was like, “You know what? Hold on.” I called their team’s liaison who was on set and said, “So, can you run through the plans for us again?” Because the founder’s complaints would have cancelled all the work we’d done already. Some clients do that and don’t want to pay extra, so in this job, patience is really a virtue.

I eventually sorted things out by going over the initial plan again with the liaison and explaining why the story was being told that way to the co-founder.

WEDNESDAY

During break on set today, I let my mind drift. Last year, I’d seen stories of a child named Ferdinard, who turned out to be a chess genius after being discovered by the Chess in Slums project. I pitched the idea for a documentary and the organisation agreed.

Everybody knows Makoko is a slum, but being in the middle of it is a completely different experience. With documentaries, you get the chance to plan things out, but for the most part, you have to go with the flow and follow the story.

While in Makoko, I was holding onto my equipment while trying to film and stay afloat on a boat at the same time. I was scared AF. But in the end, it was a lot of fun because I got to tell the remarkable story of the boy genius and showcase these wonderful kids to the world. I had full creative control and was able to document the contrast between where these gifted kids came from and the places they were going. The documentary has been nominated for awards at film festivals and won Best Documentary at one of them.

THURSDAY

Today was interesting. I was in discussions with two very different prospective clients. I met the first totally by accident. I walked into their office like a regular customer, and while the business owner was convincing me to patronise her brand, she walked me through the brand story. That’s when it clicked. I liked what she was doing — it was fresh and unique — so I pitched a storytelling angle to her. She loved it and told me she wanted to create a visual story but she hadn’t quite found someone who understood her vision. By the time I walked out of her office, we had agreed to work together, and I know I’m going to enjoy the project.

But the second perspective client I met? Totally different story. The man underpriced me so badly that if I hadn’t had the encounter with the first lady, he would have ruined my day. I have never turned down a client so fast. People like them will stress your life.

FRIDAY

It’s the drive to document culture that gets me out of bed in the morning. I don’t have any side hustle. An ideal future will be one where I’m involved in the most compelling stories coming out from Africa. But right now, I’m content. I can’t think of anything else I’d be doing if I wasn’t visual storytelling.

After my meeting with one of my editors today, I wondered what I’d score if I were to rate my career on a scale of one to ten. But I didn’t have to think too long because I decided it’d be a solid eight. When I no longer have to worry about money, I’ll give myself a ten — along with a pat on the back.

By 6 p.m., it’s TGIF time. I’ll spend my weekend cooking, watching documentaries and movies and relaxing. I’ve earned it.

ALSO READ: The Nollywood Screenwriter Who Just Can’t Rest — A Week in the Life

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday 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.

Yes, I’d like to be featured!
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.

In this week’s A Week in the Life, I talked with a content creator who works in three Abuja nightclubs. She walked me through what it’s like to meet celebrities and “Abuja big boys”, fend off creepy men and deal with sexism in the nation’s capital, all in a week’s work. Find out below.

THURSDAY – FRIDAY

I create content for a network of nightclubs in Abuja, so I work Thursday to Saturday because that’s when the clubs are in full swing.

I work at night, but my body cannot sleep past 9 a.m. To keep myself busy in the morning, I focus on my side hustle where I work as a virtual assistant for an online shoe store in Lagos. Between 9 and 11 a.m., I take orders and respond to inquiries. Then I get up from bed and go through the morning motions: brush my teeth, bathe and make breakfast.

By midday, I prepare my outfit for the night, pack my makeup and accessories and head over to my friend’s place. My friend is also my coworker, so we hang out in the afternoon to trade ideas, banter and mentally prepare for the weekend.

By 8 p.m., we start getting ready properly. We take a long time to prepare, so we have to start early. When we’re done, we’ll go to a lounge and chill until 1 a.m. when clubbers start to party.

My job as a nightclub content creator is to document the night’s events and share them on social media. I take photos of all the exciting moments and post them on social media. Is an Abuja big boy spending money while his guys cheer him on? I capture it. Is anybody ordering Azul? I record the procession and create visual content around it for Instagram. I even catch the occasional fight and anything else that can get people talking, and distribute them across our social media channels.

I work with a network of three nightclubs in Abuja. The first club starts around 1 a.m. Then, I head over to the second club. The third one is where clubbers end their night.

Abuja nightlife is weird because people leave the club at daybreak, change their cars and go to work. My work is super-stressful because I barely get any sleep. I finish from the clubs around 6 a.m, and for some reason, I can’t sleep past 9 a.m. I try to make up for the lost sleep from next Monday to Wednesday night, but I’m surprised I haven’t broken down since I started this job in January 2022.

FRIDAY – SATURDAY

The best part of this job is also the worst. I meet a lot of well-connected people. The networking aspect of Abuja nightlife is fantastic; one conversation can change your life. All the celebrities, Abuja big boys and upper-middle-class folk I would have needed to jump through hoops and hurdles to see on a typical day? They’re in the club. My boss occasionally introduces me to someone important who could give me an opportunity to create content for them and get paid.

Since I network a lot, I also get harassed often. Abuja men are a special breed. They’re built different, mehn. They don’t let me breathe. There’s always some guy who wants to talk even when I’m not in the mood, and they say the nastiest, most unprintable things. Abuja men no dey carry eye see person. They’re touchy-feely and just assume that when they see a young girl in the club at night, they can take her home. Oga, I’m just here to do my job. Free me.

Let me not even get started about all the men who think I’m a runs girl.

Sometime this night, I was moving around and making videos when a man as old as my father walked up to me and told me, “Come home with me,” in a cold, authoritative voice, as if he put jazz in his mouth. I’ve never cringed so hard.

The other thing that stresses me out is all the alcohol I drink at the club. I’m already sick of it. Also, I’m a content creator, so my job requires that I’m always on my feet. All that standing and moving about wears me out at the end of every night. My heels are constantly in pain.

But the salary is cool cash, and the perks that come with the job balance things out.

SATURDAY – SUNDAY

I got into a fight today.

Usually, I stay at my boss’ table, but one of my friends was visiting the club, so I hung out with him. My coworker tagged along, only for one weird drunk guy to start harassing her, trying to get her to go home with him. He was touching her and saying nonsense like, “I will fuck you well-well.” I noticed his antics and switched seats with my friend, but this guy didn’t leave her alone. He went around me and continued harassing her. When she resisted, he poured his drink in her face, slapped her and started yelling and pulling her hair. I saw red. All I could think about was defending her, so I jumped on him and started fighting back.

My friend grabbed the drunk fool, picked up a bottle of Azul and was ready to break the stupid man’s head. But the bouncers held him back and started begging him.

After things calmed down, the bouncers wanted to throw me out, but my friend who owned the table defended me. He argued that I was an employee of the club and should be protected rather than thrown out. The bouncers often treat ladies badly and use the slightest excuse to punish us just for being women.

The club world in Abuja is very sexist. Most times, women aren’t even allowed into clubs unless they are with men. It’s so stupid because why can’t a woman want to chill on her own? The only thing that saved me from being thrown out of my own workplace was that my friend is an Abuja boy, the manager of another big club.

It made no sense, but these are the kinds of rubbish I have to deal with.

By the time I got home this fine Sunday morning, I was exhausted. All that was on my mind was that I didn’t want to keep doing this every day. I want to get to a point where I don’t have to go to the club three times a week. I would prefer to visit the club once a week, take photos and videos, post them and get paid.

I’m thankful that I don’t have to work until next Thursday. I’ll sleep as much as I can, do my virtual assistant side hustle and mentally prepare myself for next weekend’s work.

Editor’s note: names of people and places have been removed to protect the identity of the subject.

ALSO READ: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday 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.

Yes, I want to be featured