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  • “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 today’s “A Week in the Life” is Adeola Badmus, an Abuja-based IELTS tutor. She talks about her struggles with teaching proud adults, Nigerians who think they shouldn’t write IELTS and why she loves her job so much regardless.

    graphic design of A week in the life of an IELTS tutor

    SUNDAY

    My Sunday tutorial sessions are in the afternoon, and I don’t go to church, so I sleep in until 9:30 a.m. When I get up, I do my morning skincare routine. While my skincare mask is on, I clean my apartment. After that, I take my bath and go back to bed. 

    My session usually starts at 1 p.m., but today, I decided to chill because I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with the traffic at City Gate on weekends. It would be a smooth 20-minute trip from Lugbe to Central Business District in town. 

    My plan worked to the “T”: I stepped into my workplace at exactly 1 p.m. 

    IELTS has four parts: Listening, Reading, Writing and Speaking. Today, I taught Speaking, my favourite class. 

    People communicate with each other every day — with friends, family, colleagues — but once you start asking them questions and expecting them to give you answers, to practise for a test, everything changes. You see people changing their accents and stumbling over their words, unsure of what they’re saying and making mistakes they may not make on a normal day. People behave differently when they’re being monitored; they feel judged. My job is to make sure they perform well in such situations.

    During the class, someone expressed discomfort. She said, “I’m sorry. Can I take that again?” after answering a question. I asked why, and she said she felt like she had just messed up, from the way I was looking at her. I hadn’t even said anything. It’s funny to see adults squirm under perceived pressure, a wicked kind of fun, but it’s just interesting to watch otherwise hard guys and babes become very feel self-conscious. I spent the next few minutes making small talk with my students and trying to draw them out of their shells. I always make sure students can be comfortable with me at all times. 

    By 5 p.m., I got dinner from a cafe on the next street and headed home, where I had a private class from 6-9 p.m. waiting for me. I ran the three-hour private listening classes virtually, and today’s client is in Dubai. She struggled with names, especially “Kramer” because the letters “C vs K” confused her, but I walked her through several examples.

    After the class, I was exhausted and slept off while scrolling through Facebook.

    MONDAY

    On Mondays, I have morning and afternoon sessions: 9-12 and 1-4 p.m. 

    Teaching adults is not the same as teaching children. It’s actually more difficult. Teachers can punish difficult secondary school students who are misbehaving. Growing up, my teachers scolded or flogged me, or sent me out of the class. But all these are off the table when you’re teaching adults.

    Managing petulant adults is a skill that requires patience and diplomacy. And that’s what a lot of teachers don’t know. There’s a student who got transferred to my class today. He complained that his previous teacher was rude. While reporting to my boss, he said, “I’m in his class, but I’m not his child.”

    Many of my students are people with jobs and responsibilities. They come to classes from their place of work, and many have multiple jobs and families to support. So I have to consider that they’re stressed already, and I’m careful not to give them more than they can handle.

    The costs of japa-ing are not cheap, so some of them are upper-middle-class snobs — people wey get bread, so I also have to manage big egos. Some of my students are professionals like senior doctors and nurses who want to get a better life abroad. 

    A lady came to my class during the afternoon session and was sizing everyone up like we were all beneath her. She looked me over and asked my boss, “Do you think this one has anything to offer me?”

    I smiled gracefully. I’m in Abuja after all.

    I’ll just give her two weeks. She’ll want to be my best friend.

    That incident made me remember the Indian guy who joined my class last year. He was surprised to see a Nigerian teach IELTS so well. He said, “How come you know English this well?”

    He told me he had Nigerians working under him, and he saw us as half-baked. He had also wanted to sign up with an American prep centre because he didn’t think a Nigerian could teach him. Funny, because he wasn’t exactly the brightest student. I didn’t know how to respond to such a backhanded compliment, but I brushed it off and got on with teaching. When his results came out, he passed quite all right, but he wasn’t among the best performers in my class, so what was up with the snobbery?

    If not for confidentiality and ethics, I would have rubbed my best students’ results in his face. It’s tough dealing with snobby clients like these, but it’s the job I chose, so I do my best to handle them.

    TUESDAY

    When students get frustrated, they start complaining, “Why do Americans and British people force us to write IELTS?” They say it’s unfair for Nigerians because English is our official language. The common argument is that many indigenes of Western countries have a very poor command of the English language, many of them are illiterate. 

    And I get it, but I explain that the British Council grading system is not placing applicants against illiterates, they’re measuring us up against educated indigenes. They want to attract competitive talent, people who’ll add value to their economy. 

    WEDNESDAY

    Today, a former student sent me $500. He used to have doubts about his abilities, but he passed his test in flying colours and is now in Canada. 

    When former students send me gifts like this, I’m always emotional. It’s a gift to be able to help people’s dreams come true. My current job is the healthiest I’ve ever had, and my students really help me shine. But it wasn’t always like this.

    At my previous job in Ibadan, I endured an abusive environment and barely escaped rape. The job didn’t pay much, and during COVID, they slashed my salary. I had to take extra classes to make extra money. I was barely hanging on. I no longer looked forward to stepping out of my house in the mornings.

    But when a staff sexually assaulted me at work, and the boss said, “Not every man can be around a woman and not be tempted,” I knew I had to leave.

    A few weeks later, a friend recommended me to my current company. I sent in my IELTS results and attended an interview. They liked me so much that they relocated me to Abuja. Now, they pay a major portion of my rent, and I work with the best people. My salary has increased twice in nine months, and my employers seem to care about my growth.

    Why won’t I keep shining?

    ALSO READ: “Nigerians Like to Do Anyhow” — A Week in the Life of a Wedding Planner

    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

  • 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 today’s A Week in the Life is Saviour Uffort, a computer technician in Uyo who also sells Ewa Agoyin as a side hustle. He tells us about his struggles as a technician, how he started a side business cooking beans and why his Ewa Agoyin always bangs.

    A week in the life Sagonyin computer technician

    MONDAY

    Every Monday, I wake up at 6 a.m. and do my home workouts: squats, push-ups and other bodyweight exercises. By 8 a.m., I’m done. Then I log on to Facebook and wear my motivational speaker hat: I post positive thoughts to inspire to perspire and aspire. It’s cheesy, but it gets the people going. I post photos of the gadgets I’m selling, including refurbished and UK-used iPhones and laptops.

    By 9: 30 a.m., I shower, have breakfast and step out to chase my daily bread: repairing computers. Today, I had to pick up an HP 15 laptop at Abak Road, Uyo, bring it back to my home office and diagnose the problem. The sun was fucking hot, so when I stepped back into my room at 11:30, I was grateful to have escaped it.

    By 12:30, I’d found the problem: the keyboard was fried and needed to be replaced. When I informed the owner of the problem and the cost, they said they’d get back to me. I knew they were talking to other technicians and considering cheaper alternatives because that’s something I would do. Nigeria is hard these days.

    My business model is that people don’t have to come to my shop to get their laptops fixed. I save customers the stress and pick up the gadgets at no extra cost, make the diagnosis, repair and deliver them back to their doorstep.

    But today, I wouldn’t just sit back and wait for the customer’s green light because I had other things to do. So I stepped out to face the sun again. I had a contract to install security cameras across town with a colleague who’s into computer networking in Ewet Housing Estate. As we rounded up around 5 p.m., the clouds started threatening rain, and wild winds blew. 

    Uyo’s rains are weird because sometimes, the weather changes right before it starts falling; other times, it can take hours after the winds to see the first drop of rain. I’d hoped today would be the latter, so I thought I might make a dash for it. But by the time I got to my bus stop, the rain started falling. Rain beat me shege, but I managed to hobble to my friend’s place to wait it out. 

    I finally got back home around 7:30 pm. All I wanted to do was drink something hot, press my phone and sleep off.

    TUESDAY

    I woke up today groggy from yesterday’s wahala. But when the owner of the laptop called and told me to go ahead and change its keyboard. My mood lifted because, daily ₦2k secured! 

    While I was fixing the laptop, all I was thinking about was that this life chose me. When I was 11, my friend’s brick game broke. He was miserable because it was still new, but I later picked it up and opened it up with my dad’s screwdriver, curious to check why it wasn’t working. I found that it was just a single wire that cut, and once I taped it, the game came on. I was like, “Oh wow!” Then my journey to “destruction” started. 

    Nothing escaped my curious hands: DVD players, fans, TVs, radios, etc. And I got beaten a lot. The day I dismantled the TV, my father suspended me in the air with one hand and whipped me with his other hand. I thought he was Superman that day.

    Back then, a neighbour owned a Pentium 4 desktop computer, and during the holidays, I used to go to his place to play computer games with the children in the neighbourhood. The man got tired of us, and one day he disconnected some plugs from the CPU’s motherboard before leaving the house so the neighbourhood kids would not be able to operate it. 

    When we arrived and tried to switch the computer on and it didn’t work, some kids left in disappointment. But me? I thought: since I’d messed with my parent’s appliances and fixed my friend’s brick game, I could give this a shot. So I opened the CPU and analysed the ports. I decided that two things would happen there: either I messed the system up, or I made it work. I worked on it for a while, trying to memorise how it was before I started working on the system in case I needed to unplug the cables and leave them as they were when I met them. After a few more minutes with no success, the remaining kids who’d stuck around gave up and left.

    Me? I kept at it o. After like an hour, the computer finally came on. The feeling I had when I saw the monitor light up? That was the turning point for me. I didn’t call the rest of the children because I wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labour alone. I turned down the volume and played for hours until the owner returned. He was shocked that I could connect the computer and make it come on. “Etok Ifod,” he called me. Small witch.

    That man is a hardware technician and has mentored me since then, all the way to adulthood.

    By the time I turned 17, done with secondary school, I got a job as a cyber cafe attendant. But my curiosity took the better part of me and I understudied the head technician for a year, occasionally helping out with technical issues around the cafe for extra cash.

    I went on to study Computer Science in university, but only learnt theory in school. My classmates quickly realised that academics in a Nigerian university wouldn’t do much for our careers. Some of my classmates went into software development, and some went into design. As a hands-on person, I chose computer hardware and networking. I underwent COMPTIA A+, N+ and CCNA training in 2018 and have been a hardware technician ever since. These days, I have dreams of leaving Nigeria and getting an advanced degree.

    ***

    When I finished replacing the keyboard on the laptop, I realised I’d been smiling, just like when I fixed that brick game so many years ago.

    WEDNESDAY

    Omo. Today was an awful day. Last week, I ordered a printer for a customer and shipped it from Lagos to Uyo via God is Good Logistics. When it arrived, I realised that one of its components was damaged. The client asked me to fix it because he needed it ASAP instead of waiting for GIGL to remedy the situation, as that would take a lot of time. I said, “No wahala.”

    While repairing the printer, it discovered other faulty components. Imagine buying a printer for ₦125k with a profit margin of ₦5k, and then having to fix multiple problems. The client — a lawyer — started getting aggressive and threatened to get me arrested. So I gave the printer to a printer repairer to replace the parts. When I went to his shop at Ibom Plaza today, he told me that everything would cost ₦50k. I was devastated. 

    On my way home from Plaza, I saw one of my guys who’s a YouTuber. He was filming at the Plaza. Initially, I just wanted to walk past, go home and think about my life. But I decided to hail him. He called me over and we got talking. I found that our gist took my mind off my woes, so I offered to assist him with filming. I helped hold his tripod and gimbal and assisted with the angles and shots — I even got featured in the video. The banter was just what I needed, and my guy helped lift my mood.

    I got home at around 9 p.m. and went straight to bed.

    THURSDAY

    While my main hustle involves computers, I cook and sell Ewa Agoyin on the side. So this morning, before I start fixing computers, I advertise my side hustle on Facebook and Whatsapp and take orders ahead of Saturday when I will cook the Ewa and dispatch deliveries across Uyo. 

    I’m the best cook among my friends. Anytime they’re having a gathering and food is important, they just leave it to me. So one day in March 2021, one of my guys visited me and asked, “Yo, you fit run Ewa Agoyin unto business level?” 

    I never planned to run a food business because I knew it would be hard. I don’t know how regular food vendors do it every day. But when my guy asked me to start selling Ewa Agoyin, I told him no.

    But the following week, this guy started bombarding me with photos and links of food on Instagram. I was like, “Why you dey do me this thing? You know say I like food?” But he continued, and I eventually gave in — but on one condition: I would only handle the cooking while he handled logistics and the business side.

    The following week, we test ran the experiment. I’d never made Ewa Agoyin before. But I called my mum (who lives in Lagos), went to YouTube, read recipes and called an Ewa Agoyin vendor for advice.

    Later, I shopped for ingredients and cooked my first Ewa Agoyin while my guy invited 15 people to the tasting. I was super scared, but when the reviews came, they were mad. Suddenly, people started demanding more of something that I only planned to do as a one-off. The thing entered my head. Not gonna lie.

    In the following weeks, my guy and I designed fliers, did some marketing on Facebook, and laid out business plans. In our first week of going public, we received seven orders. When we delivered, they all loved their meals. It was then I started to believe that this thing could actually work. 

    By June 2021, I got a loan from my mum and bought a cooker and other appliances that would make our operations faster. We also bought food items in bulk and tweaked our recipe. 

    The next problem was branding. We didn’t know what to name the business, but during a brainstorming session, my partner said, “Sagoyin.” I was like, “Wetin be this? Why the ‘Sa’?” He said it was a play on my name and Agoyin. It was silly, but it stuck.

    Nowadays, I take orders from Facebook and Whatsapp during the week, cook on Friday night/Saturday morning, and my partner delivers them on Saturday afternoon. I like our current model because I only cook once a week, and it also gives people something to look forward to for the weekend. It’s a side hustle, but I’d die if I had to do this every day. On average, we receive about 15-20 orders weekly. The week I got up to 32 orders, I almost passed out. 

    Last weekend, we had an order for a pack of Ewa Agoyin, and the customer loved it so much that he sent us a tip of ₦5k. It was wild! Imagine ordering a plate of less than ₦2k and giving us ₦5k on top. Omo, the thing sweet my belle die, and e dey ginger me for this weekend.

    FRIDAY

    Today, I switched my focus to my main hustle and absolutely killed it. I repaired an old ass PC, an HP Elitebook. The system was dead when the client called me; he reported one problem: it wasn’t booting, but when I went to pick up the laptop, I suspected that when fixing it, I would find other issues. I’ve been doing this for a long time, so my instincts rarely lie.

     At first, I wanted to turn down the job, but I decided to take on the challenge. It’d been a stressful week, and I wanted to end on a winning note. Also, I didn’t want my transport fare to waste. If I’d told the client about all the potential problems I suspected, they’d probably back out. 

    So I brought the laptop back home and spent hours researching and fixing all the problems. In the end, everything worked. The customer was ecstatic. I’d pretty much brought the laptop back from the dead.

    My whole life is devoted to fixing things and making people happy: when people receive their repaired hardware or eat great-tasting meals, it brings me great joy. 

    By the time I finish other technical tasks, it’s 4 p.m, and it’s been one hell of a week. But it’s not over yet: tomorrow is Sagoyin Saturday Special. So I have to start cooking tonight if I’m to meet up.

    I count the total orders Sagoyin has received — 21 this week — and make a list before going to the market by 5:30 pm. I return by 6:30 and stay in the kitchen until midnight because the preparation is in two stages, Friday night and Saturday morning.

    Here’s how tomorrow will go: I’ll wake up by 5 a.m and pick up where I left off tonight. By 8 a.m-ish., I’ll be done, and by 8:30–9 a.m, I’ll send my partner out to deliver the orders. Me? I’ll clean up the kitchen and sleep till 4 p.m., when I’ll get up and go out to watch Manchester United break my heart.

    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, I want to be featured!

  • Jude Dike was diagnosed with myopia after his fifth birthday and had worn prescription glasses all his life. But that changed when he underwent laser eye surgery in 2022.

    This is Jude’s journey from prescription glasses to 20/20 vision, as told to Ama Udofa.

    My grandparents and some of their siblings wore glasses; my parents and their siblings all wear glasses. I and my two siblings wear glasses. Growing up, whenever we went out together, we were known as the family where everyone wore glasses. In church, we had special seats.

    Until this month, I’d never known life without glasses, as I started wearing them when I was five. I would sit dangerously close to the TV, and my parents would warn me against it. After my fifth birthday, I’d had headaches for three days, so my mother took me to see an optician who diagnosed myopia. 

    In school, I was a walking stereotype: the smallish smart kid who wore glasses. I got into JSS1 on my 10th birthday. At boarding school, kids always wanted to try my glasses on to see how they’d look in them. I had three pairs, so when the first one broke after going through several different heads, I switched to my backups. They wanted to try those as well. My dad kept buying pairs, until one day, he got tired and said fuck it, he wasn’t going to buy them again.

    For a year, I went without glasses. I didn’t write notes in class. I’d only copy from my seat partner later, or sometimes, I’d just walk to the blackboard. My classmates complained, but except they wanted to fix my eyes, there was nothing I could do. After a year, my dad finally bought me a new pair, and I never shared them again.

    My whole life, I’ve worn glasses, and for the longest time, I hated that I couldn’t wear sunshades. I could wear photochromic glasses but they are still your glasses, not actual sunshades. I’d see some really dope ones, but I couldn’t rock them. I was always too scared of getting things in my eyes so I never considered contact lenses. Then in January 2022, my girlfriend gifted me a pair of recommended sunshades. I’d dreamed about wearing sunshades for the longest time so you can imagine my joy.

    I’d always wanted to do surgery, but I didn’t know how to go about it, so I never really made it a priority. 

    Two weeks later, I saw a tweet about LASIK surgery, a type of laser eye surgery to correct vision. I thought, “You can do that in Nigeria?” I always assumed that it was an elaborate process and would be like $15,000 or even up to $30,000, so imagine my shock when people started recommending an eye surgery foundation in Lekki Phase One, Lagos.

    I went to make inquiries in February. I was told that I had to do a bunch of eye tests, to check my cornea, to make sure my pupils dilated properly, and so on. The bill stunned me — everything came to just over ₦200k — but nothing could have prepared me for how much the actual procedure cost; it was ₦2m. I baulked. I started thinking,  “Do I really want to do this right now?” My girlfriend encouraged me to just get it over with.

    What sealed my resolve was when one of the nurses who had recently done hers shared that it changed her life. I had some forthcoming business trips to Kenya and Ghana, so I scheduled my appointment for the middle of March.

    But when I came back from Ghana in early March, I could no longer wait, so I called and asked the doctor to move it forward.

    On the day of the surgery, I did some more tests and signed an I-will-not-sue-you type of agreement. Before the LASIK procedure, I looked at the doctor and told her, “My eyes are literally in your hands right now.” She laughed and responded, “Your eyes are in God’s hands.” 

    I got on the operation table and she numbed my eyes with an anaesthetic. That’s when things got scary. There was a circular mechanical contraption, on the laser machine, that opened up my eyes, and even though I was numb, I could feel things move around in them. It was not painful at all, but the swiping at my eyeballs was a strange feeling. 

    Throughout the procedure, all I was thinking was, “How many people went blind when scientists were testing people to figure out this process? How many people had to die to perfect this?” And then, “Shit. I’m already here now. It’s either my eyes get better or I go blind as fuck. I’m a CEO now; would I lose my company and have to settle for jobs that don’t require reading or writing?” 

    My only job was to focus on the light source no matter what, so I forced myself to think happy thoughts. 

    My right eye was easy and took five minutes to complete, but with my left eye, I felt some pain. I think the anaesthesia had started to wear off, so I told her. She reapplied the numbing medicine and the pain reduced. Twenty-five minutes later — the longest 25 minutes of my life — we were done. The entire experience was interesting and scary at the same time. 

    It was after the surgery that I realised what had just happened. According to the tests, the laser had cut my cornea to adjust to a certain refraction level. It was painless and, after the surgery, I realised that the procedure didn’t actually take long. ended pretty quickly.

    Jude Dike taking photos before laser eye surgery LASIK

    When I got off the table, everything was blurry. The doctor gave me some eye drops and instructions: apply the drops every hour for the next 24 hours and visit the eye clinic three more times within the month. Then, my friend drove me back home.

    That night, I didn’t touch anything. Not my phone, not my TV, not my laptop. I just went to sleep. My friend would wake me up every hour to apply the eye drops. Thankfully, I’ve never had problems with falling asleep, so it was easy to drift back each time.

    I woke up in the morning very groggy, but when I saw the painting in my room, I was like, “Shit. I just fucking saw that clearly!” I texted my friends, “Yooooo! I dey see die!”

    My life changed that day. The first thing I did when I came online was to on Twitter to ask where I could buy sunshades. I had to get U/V-blocking glasses because my eyes were still very sore, and I had also been instructed to avoid direct U/V light for the next few weeks. A nurse told me she’d made the mistake of watching TV during her recovery period. Her eyes became swollen, prolonging her healing period. I had to be careful.

    A Twitter mutual suggested a place in Lekki that sells designer glasses. The Chief Operating Officer’s mother had recently done eye surgery so she knew how to help me pick a suitable pair. The U/V-blocking glasses I bought cost ₦165k but they took ₦30k off because the person who recommended me is a “friend of the house”.

    ₦135k for glasses!

    And they’re ugly as fuck, but at least they got the job done.

    It’s been weeks now, and I still find myself instinctively reaching for my prescription glasses. There’s this thing people who’ve worn prescription glasses for a long time do, they adjust them at the bridge of their noses when they’re slipping off. I still do that out of habit. Well, I’ve sha thrown my prescription glasses away, and I’m glad I no longer need them.

    Even though I paid all that money to see shege clearly, have you seen how cool I look in sunshades now?

    If you liked this story, you’ll also like: I’m Lactose Intolerant, But I Can’t Leave Milk Alone

  • 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.

    Kedei Ibiang is a medical doctor who specialises in public health, but she quit her job this year (2022) and turned her focus to selling fragrances and scented candles. For today’s A Week in the Life, she explains the process of making fragrances, why she quit her job and the beauty of being in control of her time.

    Photo of: graphic design of a doctor who left her job to sell perfumes

    MONDAY

    I’m not a morning person, so when I wake up at 7 a.m., the first thing I do is pick up my phone to check social media. I spend about 20 minutes checking my inboxes to ensure I’ve not missed any messages or inquiries from customers or prospective customers. Then, I catch up on Facebook and Instagram. There’s always one drama or the other. The recent one is about some lady influencer who scammed people for billions of naira in a Ponzi scheme. After 30 minutes of mindless scrolling, I’m out to face the business that pays me.

    I spend the rest of the day packaging orders within Abuja for the delivery guy to pick up. When he does, I follow up with him and ensure that all the orders reach their buyers. For interstate orders, I have an account with a delivery company. The dispatch rider picks up the orders and drops them off at the company’s office, and they take it up from there.

    I have terrible eating habits which means I often forget to eat. Ironic that I’m a doctor but I’m not a fan of food. If I could find a way to exist without eating, I would. But by late afternoon, I order food and go back to work until 7 p.m. I don’t have a social life, so after work, it’s Netflix until 10 or 11 p.m. when I sleep.

    TUESDAY

    When I started using perfumes around 2006, I discovered that I couldn’t use most sprays because my mum and I are asthmatic. I had respiratory allergies myself, which meant that the alcohol in perfumes choked me. The best I could use were roll-ons and body mists because of their lower alcohol content. Even then, I would run into the bathroom, spray whatever I needed to spray while pinching my nose shut, and run back into the room, slamming the bathroom door shut so I wouldn’t inhale the spray. Wild times.

    But in 2017, I decided to look for non-alcoholic alternatives that are non-toxic and hypoallergenic. My search led me to start Kay’s Perfumery the following year. I eventually Then I expanded my product line to producing and selling scented candles, diffusers and room sprays. I also formulate fragrances once in a while.

    My process starts with contacting my supplier in Dubai. Once every three or four months, I send him a list of fragrances I need, and we conclude on quantity, sizes and pricing. My orders usually cost anywhere from ₦300k to ₦600k, but the naira’s freefall has really affected my business. The quantity of oils I’d have gotten for ₦300k in 2021 now costs me an extra ₦75k to ₦100k. It’s really wild.

    When I’m ready to pay, I send the payment through a middle man who converts my naira to dirhams. Once my supplier confirms that I’ve paid, he ships my order.

    I play around with ideas in my head a lot, so when I get one that sticks, I just type it out on my phone’s notepad and expand on it. When I have enough options for the notes, I start formulating the scent. It’s sort of an elimination process: I decide on my main notes and the ones that I want to be in minute quantities, then I come up with the first sample which I test for notes and sillage — the trail created by a perfume when it’s worn on the skin. If I don’t feel comfortable with the scent, I go back to tweak it — drop some percentages, increase others, add a new note and repeat the process to come up with a second sample. I test it again: do I like it? Is it nice? Does it linger? I could repeat that process up to five times until I get something that works nicely. When I’m satisfied, I wear it out to gauge people’s reactions and the kind of compliments I get. 

    If it’s a scent I think would sit better on a guy, I gift it to a few friends or some old customers — if a longtime customer is lucky enough to be placing an order at the time I’m creating a new scent, I just throw in a small sample and ask them how they like it. I use their feedback to decide whether or not I’m adding it to my product line. 

    And when I create a scent that bangs? It really bangs. In December 2021, I formulated a signature diffuser — I called it “Christmas Wine” — that was a hit. I sold over ₦400k worth of it in eight days! The orders poured in so much that I had had to stop taking orders for two days so I wouldn’t break down from stress.

    WEDNESDAY 

    Today, while I was writing ideas down for a new candle scent, I remembered the time I made a scent that flopped. 

    Before Valentine’s Day this year [2022], I was working on three special candle fragrances: Date Night, Love Potion and Let’s Get Nutty (which had coconut and truffles in it). I spent so much time on Love Potion because I wanted it to be the flagship. I had made noise about it on social media and people were hyped! I received so many pre-orders. The mix of notes was just perfect… in theory, but when I produced it, it turned out mid as fuck. 

    I tried so hard to make it work but it just didn’t. I was running out of time so I had to abandon it and inform my customers that Love Potion wasn’t going to be available due to unforeseen reasons. Luckily for me, customers accepted other fragrances. The Let’s Get Nutty that I didn’t really put much effort into making turned out to be the star — and saviour — of the show. 

    THURSDAY

    Even though everything in this Nigeria is out to frustrate business owners, I still derive joy from this entrepreneurship thing. I carry my customers on my head, and I love it when they’re delighted, but once in a while, someone comes around and moves mad.

    When I’m not making signature scents, I sell candles wholesale and produce in bulk for other brands. The candle industry is fairly new in Nigeria. People have started appreciating scented candles, so these days, they bring me almost 70% of my monthly revenue. Vendors buy my custom scents, slap their branding on them and resell. Sometimes, I take orders to import specific scents that can’t be found here, and I sell them as well.

    In February, a lady reached out and asked me to make candles and diffusers, and import packaging materials for her. She had very niche requirements, and her order amounted to ₦1.2m. We spoke for over a week. I invested so much time and effort into this deal. I even informed my suppliers, and we finalised on shipping and delivery timeline. All that was left was payment. Then this babe ghosted me.

    This thing pained me, I can’t lie. I’d been so happy about the deal because I wanted to get some things from a supplier in China at around the same time she reached out. I was like, “Oh, perfect. I’m just going to throw my other cargo into this and ship all of them at once.” The ghosting touched my chest. 

    To add insult to injury, she now blocked me. I was shocked when I found out. All she needed to do was just let me know she wasn’t going to proceed, but she just went ahead and blocked. Just. Like. That. 

    Me that like closure, I reached out to her through my personal IG profile only to receive excuses and apologies. She told me that something came up and yada yada yada. She now promised to continue the deal later on. Abeg abeg. At that point, I no longer gave a damn.

    That experience has taught me to be more apprehensive of customers when they make certain inquiries. Sha the information I fed that babe for free, ehn? I suspect she didn’t really want to buy from me; she just wanted information. I hate when people waste my time. But we move.

    FRIDAY

    It’s not every day you see a medical doctor who sells perfumes, but abeg, at the moment, I’m not “doctoring”. I never liked clinical practice because it was very monotonous. I hated going through the same processes every day go to the hospital at 7:30 a.m., work all day till maybe 4 p.m., attend to the patients, rinse and repeat.

    When it was time to specialise, I decided to go for public health because no two projects are the same. There’s always variety. I could work with organisations that either run as private firms or provide public health services to the government. So everything from infectious diseases or sexual reproductive health or maternal and child health. 

    For a while, I was running my fragrance business on the side. I used to coordinate a gender-based violence project that wrapped up in 2021. After that, I decided to take three to four months off to focus on my perfume business and do some serious marketing. During that time, I applied to several grants and won one of them. 

    This year (2022), I decided to delve back into public health, so I joined an organisation in March. But it didn’t quite work out. I didn’t enjoy working there, and even though it paid quite well, the work culture was very different from what I was used to. The environment was beginning to tell on my mental health, so I quit after one month. Now, I’m back to focusing on Kay’s Perfumery full-time. That doesn’t mean I’m done with medicine. I still have a lot of plans for the year. 

    I have an assistant who helps with inventory, so after the dispatch driver picks up the orders for today, I catch up on the International Health and Women’s Rights course I’m taking. There’s another course on health tech that I’ve abandoned for a million years, but I intend to go back to it.

    I didn’t exactly plan my work life to turn out this way, but it couldn’t have been better if I did. I love that I own my hustle and I get to create and execute my ideas. I’m excited to see what more the future holds. Who knows? I could be expanding to skincare soon.

    I study till I’m tired. By 7 p.m. on those rare days I feel like stepping out for fresh air, I’ll just check on a friend to see if she’s free. If she is, we’ll have a chill girls’ night out till about 10 or 11 p.m.

    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, 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 today’s “A Week in the Life” is the caretaker of a hostel close to a university that houses 45 self-con rooms. He talks about the chaos of his job, managing difficult tenants and his dream to japa one day.

    A week in the life of hostel caretaker

    I usually wake up around 6:30 to 7 a.m., but sometimes it can be earlier. My family and I live in one of the rooms in the same building where I work, and I work seven days a week, so I can’t separate work from life. 

    Tenants usually wake me up for one thing or the other. Sometimes it could be that water finished overnight and a tenant is calling me first thing in the morning because they have to bathe and go to work. So I have to get up, put on the gen and pump water. Or maybe someone’s shower got blocked and I need to call a plumber as soon as possible. There are 45 self-contain rooms in this building, so problem no dey finish. But thank God this morning is problem-free so I can sleep till 8 a.m. 

    My daughter is at her grandma’s for the holiday, but immediately I rise from the bed, my secondborn — who is just a few months old — starts crying. My wife gets up and carries the baby. 

    As the hostel manager, my responsibility is to make sure the compound is neat and well-maintained. Since every tenant pays an annual service charge upfront, I also have to make sure they’re comfortable. If there’s a socket that suddenly stopped working, I call an electrician. If someone’s having trouble with their lightbulb or kitchen sink, na me dem dey call.

    I spend my days in the compound doing almost the same things 24/7, and it can get boring, but how man go do? Today, I’m happy sha. A former tenant came in the afternoon and we chatted for hours until nightfall. It’s been a long time since I last saw him, so the gist was plenty.

    TUESDAY

    My job is easy these days, but it wasn’t always like this. When I got employed in this building last year, I saw pepper. In late 2020, I got hired to care for this building. It was a new building that was taking tenants for the first time, and management made a lot of — I don’t even know if I should call them mistakes or just negligence. 

    The problem is that first of all, they built this hostel as if they were building it abroad: three columns of apartments facing each other, but they now sealed the small corridors in between with a plastic roof. And they didn’t stop there. They wanted to make the building shine-shine, so instead of leaving space for small breeze to be flowing in front of the building, they went and covered everywhere with glass blocks which ran from the ceiling to the ground floor, covering every inch of space. Without any air conditioning system.

    While the hostel building looked fancy from the outside, the way they built it wasn’t practical. The self-con rooms are small and have only one window each. But the builders put solar panels and inverter in the building, and that’s what they used to market the rooms. All 45 rooms were taken in two weeks. But small time, problem started coming.

    When tenants paid their one-year leases and service charges in December 2020, the harmattan hid the ventilation problem in the building. Also, it was dry season so there was sufficient sunlight to power the solar inverters. Everybody had fun. 

    Until the heat came in February. NEPA stopped bringing light and the inverters started running down frequently. Hot air was trapped within the building with nowhere to go. Tenants complained, but building management didn’t say anything. After some time, the tenants transferred their vex on me. I tried to explain to them that none of this was my fault, but since I was the only representative of the building management on-site, na me collect all the complaining and insult. It was the most difficult time of my life because I lived in the same building as the tenants and was suffering the same problems. I asked the manager to buy a backup generator for but she ignored me.

    Then one day, after NEPA refused to bring light for two days, the inverter went off in the middle of the night, around 2 a.m. Water also finished because there was no light to pump. Nobody could sleep. Almost all the tenants came downstairs to protest. They hurled insults at me and emptied the waste bins at my doorstep. There was nothing I could do except hope and pray that morning would come quickly. 

    When day finally broke, I called the manager and showed her what was going on in the compound. I was ready to quit at that point. Luckily, she sent money for a backup generator. I don’t know why Nigerian business owners like to wait until everything is falling apart before they act.

    In March, the heat became unbearable. The owner of the building sacked the manager and hired somebody more proactive. The new manager finally brought masons to break the huge blocks of decorative glass and installed windows in their place. Finally, we could breathe fresh air again.

    WEDNESDAY

    Human beings can be funny, but I understand that we can’t all be the same. That’s why I do my best to be patient with people. Before tenants move into the building, they sign an agreement form that contains rules and regulations. But me I don’t know if they don’t read it well. After moving in, you’ll start seeing tenants doing anyhow. and if I didn’t have patience, I’d be fighting everyone every day. 

    Like this guy that lives on the top floor. There’s a shed outside the gate with two drums dedicated to waste disposal. But this boy came downstairs and scattered his trash all over the place. I asked him why he behaved like that, and he just told me, “No vex,” and ran back upstairs. I’m not even going to let anything steal my peace of mind today. I’ll calm down and clean up the place. 

    By the time I go back into the compound, I realise I’m not even angry again.

    THURSDAY

    Even with the occasional madness, I enjoy this work. E no dey stress me at all. But I wish it paid better. I’m raising a family of four, and I’m the breadwinner. I have two daughters: a toddler and a newborn baby and I don’t know how we’re even roughing it. It can only be God.

    I usually tell my younger friends to think of settling down, but this thing is hard. The friend that visited me on Tuesday, who has more money than me, said he’s not thinking about getting married until he gets to around 35 because he wants to make money first. And I can’t even blame him because this country is somehow.

    Before this caretaker work, I was a porter at a hotel. The salary was chicken change, but I used to get so many tips that I could go months without touching my salary. And my previous oga was so impressed with my work that when my current madam wanted to start renting this building out, he recommended me to be the caretaker. 

    I no longer get any tips, but at least I’m not worrying about rent. I also have more time to spend with my family, so nothing spoil.

    My current madam lives in the US, and she normally says she likes the way I’m taking care of her building. And sometimes, like today, I wonder if she’ll just invite me and my family to japa to the abroad since she’s so impressed. But my wife thinks I’m a joker. Anyway, I’ll keep doing my best and hoping for the best. One day, I’ll see better opportunity that will change my 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 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 today’s “A Week in the Life” studied animal science in university but now plans weddings for a living in South East Nigeria. She explores the challenges of dealing with Nigerians who love to party and why she loves her job so much.

    A week in the life of wedding planner feature image design

    MONDAY

    The first thing on my mind when I wake up at 8 a.m. today is that I’ve been doing this wedding planning thing for two years.

    It feels like two lifetimes ago when I stumbled upon this line of work by chance — I studied animal science at the University of Maiduguri, so what’s my business with weddings? 

    My faith led me to event planning. I was in a Christian group back in school, where I organised and planned its events on campus. After youth service, I met a woman in Abuja who was an events decorator and started to help her out. After some time, I grew to love the business, so she took me on as an intern. My experience with planning events in uni made me confident that I’d be good at it professionally, so I also enrolled in an events agency for a training programme and got certified. 

    When I completed my training, I didn’t get any clients. People didn’t want to take a chance with an unknown, fresh-faced lady. But one day, a relative asked me to plan their big wedding — for free. The thing with family is that they always want to use people for free. I needed to get my brand out there, so I took the job. 

    In that first gig, I ran into problems. The decorator I hired was supposed to be at the venue on Thursday, but he didn’t show up until Saturday at 3 a.m. He stopped picking up my calls. I couldn’t sleep. The decorator was meant to set up a cabana for the groom and bride, amongst other elaborate things as it was a big-budget wedding — and cabanas take so much time to make. I still don’t know how I managed to pull through, but the wedding turned out successful. Since then, I’ve built my business with sheer determination. If you’re faint-hearted, you can’t succeed in this business. Nigerians like to do anyhow. 

    And as I wake up today, I’m thanking God. I take some minutes to mentally prepare for my day which will involve a lot of calls with vendors and soon-to-be-wedded couples, then I rise from bed and freshen up.

    TUESDAY

    The thing that stresses me the most about planning weddings is the unpredictability of it all. I got five proposed weddings in the first quarter of 2022 and only completed three. 

    People cancel weddings all the time for several reasons. Someone could’ve cheated or is hiding a child somewhere. There was this client who reached out to me and we started planning. Everything was going smoothly, but suddenly, there was a problem with the families. Someone didn’t pay the full settlement of the bride price. They called off the wedding.

    Anything can happen at any time, so I’m always prepared. Though I hate when this happens because I don’t receive my full pay if a wedding is called off. I also have to make refunds. And the biggest disappointment of all: since I can only book an event for one wedding at a time, I’ve lost out on other clients.

    But when a wedding goes according to plan, it’s beautiful.

    WEDNESDAY

    I have a wedding billed for this Saturday. Thankfully, this client booked me about five months back [in late 2021]. I love clients like this because they give me enough time to get the best possible venues and vendors. This couple knows what they want and it’s an absolute joy to communicate with her.

    I met this client at an event I planned we got talking. She was a guest and loved the decor and the orderliness of the show. She later reached out on Instagram and said she trusted I’d do a great job for her wedding. She’d been dreaming of her wedding forever. She had a mood board and a clear idea of how she wanted the ceremony to be. So I knew I’d enjoy working with her, and we’d become good friends.

    I’ve covered all the bases ahead of Saturday. I’ve hired the best decorators and the ambience we’re working on will blow everyone’s mind. All I need to do until Saturday is make calls, send reminders and make sure all bookings and logistics are sorted out. Photographers are one of the most important aspects of weddings. The pictures are going to like last a lifetime. So if you don’t have good photographs, you might end up regretting your big day. But my photographers are tested and trusted, so we’re good to go.

    We’ll have a bachelorette party and pre-wedding games the night before the wedding day. We’ll also do a dress rehearsal of sorts. It’s all going to be stressful, but I know I’ll have a lot of fun while at it.

    THURSDAY

    I’ve been burnt a few times by people. Now, I don’t even let people try rubbish with me. Every time I communicate with a client on phone, I record it on my notes app and send a copy to the client on Whatsapp. I also never let clients arrange logistics [feeding, accommodation] for me. I prefer to do it myself. 

    There was this client that frustrated me in 2020 ending. I live in Imo State but regularly plan weddings outside the state. This lady’s wedding was going to be in Aba, and she booked hotel accommodation for me.  When I arrived at the hotel, it was bad. I called her and she told me that she booked ₦10k rooms for me. But when I went down to the reception and asked for their price list, I found out that my room was the cheapest room at the hotel at ₦5k. I was so mad.

    Then, she refused to pay me the full price. I’d charged her ₦250k, but she paid ₦80k upfront and said she’d complete it just before the wedding. The day before the wedding, I asked her about it, and she claimed she was only owing me ₦40k because she’d booked my hotel accommodation. I was furious. Was it ₦120k that would make me travel all the way to Aba to stay in a rubbish room and plan an event that was already stressing me out?

    When she saw that being aggressive wasn’t working, she started begging me to quietly accept it so her husband wouldn’t hear. When I noticed that she didn’t want me to involve her husband, I pounced. Me? I was ready to cause wahala o. I even refused to attend the reception ceremony unless she completed my money. I had receipts to show that this woman was trying to defraud me. 

    The groom later decided to pay me in full. I laugh when I remember the bride shooting me daggers with her eyes. And nowadays, I make sure all my clients sign contracts before we even start working together. Then I ask for ​​70% upfront and collect the remaining 30% two weeks before the event.

    FRIDAY

    I used to live in Abuja, then I moved to Port Harcourt after I got married. When I got pregnant with my first child, I and my husband moved to Owerri in late 2019 — just before the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdown. That lockdown made me pause my business for months. I say I’ve done event planning for two years, but that’s because I don’t count 2020. I didn’t do much during the pandemic. So when the country opened up again, I was the happiest person in the world. 

    I’m grateful for a supportive husband. My job is chaotic, and he calms me. His mum is a caterer so he understands the business. He’s the one who got me my first, second and third paying clients, and I love how he carries my matter on his head.

    I’m also grateful for the woman I first interned with when I was starting out. That woman showed me I stood a chance. When I started branching out on my own, she gave me as much support as I needed. She always believed the sky is wide for everyone and never saw me as a competitor. She used to say that my clients are not her clients even though we played in the same market.

    As I head to tomorrow’s wedding venue to make final checks, I’m daydreaming of the future. Business is growing steadily; I currently have two coordinators and one intern, and I want to expand. I want to diversify my event coverage bandwidth and go into the events industry at full blast. So help me God.

    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. 

    Ajumoke Nwaeze won Star Quest in 2008 and got into the Nigerian Idol finals in 2011. Then she dropped out of the singing competition. In today’s #AWITL, she reflects on the burden of popularity, writing JAMB six times and her switch from singing to a creative writing career.

    MONDAY

    When I wake up at 6:30 a.m., I freshen up and prepare for work. I’d prepared my outfit for today last night so I wouldn’t have to do much in the morning. By 7:45 a.m., I leave for my office. 

    As the head of content at a media company, my Mondays are always predictable: attend meetings, follow up with marketing reports from the previous week and send them to the CEO. But the predictability only lasts until 2 p.m.; then it’s freestyle season. 

    Today, my one-hour lunch break begins at 2 p.m., after which I spend the next two hours reviewing marketing documents and writing new strategy documents for company projects. 

    By 4 p.m, I’m out the door. I’m grateful I don’t have to do eye service at my company, so I never hang around longer than I’m needed. I can’t wait for salsa this evening, where I’ll stay until 10 p.m. Thankfully, tomorrow I’ll work from home.

    TUESDAY

    Because I’m working from home, I don’t have to get up early. Last night, I scheduled my emails so when I woke up today at 11 a.m., I didn’t touch my laptop. Today is for my side hustle. I’m going to spend the next two hours meditating and practising self-care. After that, I’ll focus on my side hustle.

    By 2 p.m., I set up my mini sound studio to record a voiceover. During the 2020 lockdown, I learnt sound engineering because I had so much recording to do and got tired of calling my producer to use his studio every time. 

    While I’m setting up my sound equipment, I start humming popular Nigerian songs, which takes me back to my competing days.

    I was living with my family in Port Harcourt waiting to write JAMB for the sixth time when I heard about Star Quest. It was a music talent hunt and reality TV show. I wasn’t interested because I’d previously auditioned for several singing competitions, and I never got past the early stages. But my sister has a great singing voice, and so, on the last day of registration, she asked me to help her register for Star Quest. Those days, you had to go to cyber cafes to use the internet, so I went across town to help submit her application.

    While filling out the application form, I was asked to upload a passport photograph, something neither me nor my sister had expected. The cyber cafe was far from our house, so I couldn’t make the return trip. I decided to register myself instead, as I had my passport saved in my email; all I needed to do was download it and upload it to the Star Quest website. My sister didn’t mind when I told her, she was okay with it as long as someone from the family got in. 

    I did, and became the lead singer of a band with five other male contestants. A few weeks later, we won the show. As part of the prize, we won a recording contract with a top recording label and a six-bedroom apartment in Lagos. I moved to Lagos to start enjoying the good life.

    But things didn’t work out so smoothly. Fame affects your life in interesting ways. The very next Saturday, I went to write JAMB for the sixth time. It was the first JAMB exam that I had to write without external help. Previously, I’d make arrangements with people who would give me “expo” before entering the exam hall. This time, I was popular, so I couldn’t move an inch in the hall even though I desperately wanted to cheatt. But it turned out to be the JAMB that finally got me admitted into the University of Calabar, so I wonder why I even cheated all those years.

    In uni, I had to keep denying I was the Star Quest Winner. When people pointed at me, I’d say, “It’s not me o. Please, if you see her, let me know.”

    Three years later, in 2011, I realised I wasn’t enjoying music much because I got dissatisfied with the musical direction the band was taking. Star Quest was a group competition and I’d won as part of a band. When I heard of Nigerian Idol, I saw it as my way out of the band. If I won, I could kickstart a solo career.

    But right from the auditons, I had issues. The judges were sceptical of me because I had already won a major competition. I argued that Star Quest was for music groups while I was auditioning for Nigerian Idol as a solo artist. Luckily, they let me sing. They were so impressed that they granted me a golden ticket, which meant that I wouldn’t have to go through other audition rounds. I’d go straight to the live shows.

    The band got angry when they found out that I’d been into the top 12. They asked me to choose between staying in the band or continuing with Nigerian Idol. I promptly pulled out of the band.

    A couple of weeks later, I got into the finals, and that’s when it got overwhelming for me. While I had supporters, many people criticised my presence on the show, said I didn’t deserve to be there. The critics said I wasn’t a new face; I’d already won a major competition before, so why the hell was an established person competing with fresh talents? According to them, it wasn’t a fair fight. After witnessing several hate campaigns, I got tired of it all and pulled out.

    I’d lost the privileges of being in a band and signed to a label, and I’d dropped out of Nigerian Idol. I was back to being a regular student. I’d been cruising through life for so long it felt like I had to restart my life. I burned through my savings just to keep doing music and couldn’t sustain it. So, one day I decided to just stop. If I was going to survive, I had to explore other talents.

    I’m smiling now because I’ve come such a long way. I turn on my mic and begin my voiceover recording.

    WEDNESDAY

    I wasn’t trying to make money when I started my blog. I just wanted to get my thoughts out there. The next best thing after music was creative writing. I decided to start writing the things I wanted to say. 

    I used to make so many errors, but I took criticism from friends and kept getting better.

    My first big break with writing showed up whenI wrote a story on my blog and used it to apply to UNESCO World Book Capital in 2014. When I got selected for the one-month residency amongst already established writers, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I googled these people and found that I was the least experienced writer on the list. 

    Before the residency, I used to introduce myself as a singer. But after it, I started introducing myself as a writer. There were four stages of change for me. For a while, I’d introduce myself thus, “Hi, my name is AJ and I’m a singer.” Then I later moved to, “Hi, my name is AJ I’m a singer and I write too.” And then, “Hi, my name is AJ; I write.” And finally, “Hi, my name is AJ, and I am a writer.”

    I’ve also always been the go-to person for my friends. When they had ideas or wanted to brainstorm something, I was the one to consult. Over time, I thought, since everybody called me to help them think, I could be the person who gets paid to think for people rather than being used for free. 

    That’s how I evolved into a content creator. Now, I do this for both individuals and public brands.

    THURSDAY

    When I woke up today, I was wondering, “What have I not done in this my life?” I’m a singer-songwriter, a scriptwriter, an actress, a sound producer, a writer and an all-round content queen..

    I mean,  last year (2021), I wrote a song for a movie, and it won a best soundtrack award. I’m nodding my head and telling myself I’m good at this shit as I get out of bed. Tell me what cannot do. This wave of energy has carried me through the script I’ve been working on for the past two weeks. I know I’m going to be done with it today. Once I dot my last i, I cross my legs and admire my work. I still need to edit it, but I love what I’m seeing.

    By 6 p.m., I go to the gym and work out for two hours. Even when I get back home for dinner, I’m still brimming with energy that I’ll carry throughout the weekend. 

    FRIDAY

    My peers still yab me for not sticking with music, but I don’t regret it. I’ve never regretted dropping out of Nigerian Idol or switching my focus to content creation. On one hand, I could have stuck to music and blown into superstardom by now. But what if I didn’t? I could just have gotten frustrated with everything, become depressed and turned to drugs. Who knows?

    I’m glad that I recognised other skills and pivoted quickly when music was not working out. I firmly believe if something isn’t working, I can stretch my arms and try something new. I’m not going to kill myself on top of one thing. I’m grateful I’ve nurtured all these other skills and still get to explore my creativity.

    When I was in my 20s, fame was my primary goal. But now, I no longer care about it. But I still love singing sha. When I close from work today, I’m going to a karaoke bar with my girls who’ll give me an audience and hype me up. I’m going to settle down and enjoy myself this weekend because weekends don’t last. Thank God it’s Friday.

    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!

  • 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 today’s “A Week in the Life”, is a bookstagrammer — an Instagram creator who posts artfully staged book content and is a part of the bookish community. 23-year-old Uchenna Nnabuguwu tells us about reading 100 books a year, finding a community of book lovers on Instagram and how he makes money from sharing his love for books on #bookstagram.

    bookstagrammer

    MONDAY

    When I wake up at 7 a.m. I want to continue the book I’m currently reading — Jenniffer Nansubuga’s The First Woman. But first I have to prepare food for my dad who doesn’t know how to cook. We live in Abuja but my mom works at the federal university in faraway Ebonyi State. 

    I try to do all my house chores before noon so I’ll have the rest of my day to do bookish stuff. While working around the house, I listen to an audiobook. When I have more time later, I’ll continue reading from the paperback. 

    When I finish my chores at around 12 p.m., I settle down and start to plan my Instagram content for the week. My plan isn’t rigid — sometimes I find that I’m too excited for a particular book so I end up posting before I’m supposed to, like today. The book I’m reading — The First Woman — is a book like no other: it explores power and gender roles and how feminism has been in Africa long before Westerners gave it a name.

    Makumbi’s writing is rich with culture and I simply have no words (I will when I write a full review later). But I can’t wait until I finish, so I take a quick photo of the book, post it on my Insta Story and continue reading until evening, only stopping to make lunch and attend to my father.

    It’s when it grows too dark that I know that night has fallen. There’s no light at home, and there hasn’t been for some time now. This country can’t even let someone read.  

    Before I sleep, I book an Airbnb for tomorrow so I can take photos and record videos for my Instagram Reels for the week. It costs  ₦29,000, but that’s the price to pay for quality content. 

    TUESDAY

    I read a lot of books — in 2021, I read 102 books, and this year, I’ve already read 35 books in March, so I’m well on my way to crush my reading goals this year. When I first found the #bookstagram community on Instagram, in 2019, I knew I’d finally found my home on the internet. 

    When I was growing up, I used my pocket-money to buy books. I used my pocket money to buy those ₦50 story pamphlets until I could afford costlier books in junior secondary schools. I read Harlequin books until my mom caught me and flogged me because of the photo on the back cover. Since then, I started tearing off the covers of my books. 

    I started posting about books on Instagram in 2019 but it took me a year to make money from sharing my love for books on Instagram. In 2020, I was broke and started looking for work. I sought work at a gas filling station for  ₦15k per month, but after discussing with the manager, I knew that it wasn’t the type of work for me. One of the attendants even told me that someone like me should be working at a bookstore at least. 

    Jungle fit dry, but lion no go chop grass. So when I got back home, I resolved to double down and improve the quality of my content. Before, I used to post content for the fun of it, but from then on, I became deliberate about everything I put out. After all, it would be nice to earn money from my passion.

    A few months later, an author reached out to me to promote her book. I was to review the book, create an Instagram Reel showcasing the book and have a discussion with her on Instagram Live about queer representation in African literature. She paid  ₦15k for it. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a start. 

    The next time someone reached out to me, weeks later, it was on behalf of a publishing house. 

    WEDNESDAY

    By around 11:30 a.m., I’m rounding off my chores and thinking of the book that I received this morning. I started reading it and knew there was no way I would continue. I know I like to read o, but please.

    Although I like earning money from reading books, there are some books I’ll never feature on my IG. As an experienced reader, I can tell if a book will be worth my time just from reading the blurb alone. There are some books you start reading and you know that the author just said, “I can write, so let me just write a book,”  or that their friends hyped them to write a book because they posted something that they wrote in their notes app. I would never recommend such books to my bookstagram community. 

    But when I find a book that gets me from the first word, it’s rewarding because imagine being paid to enjoy yourself!

    That’s why I put so much effort into my work. I spend my money to rent picturesque locations — there’s even one time I went into the bush to create content for a book cover because I thought it’d make a nice concept. The only thing that really makes me angry is cost of data and how fast my subscription finishes because these days it’s as if MTN is following me to use my data.

    But the hardest part about my work is not even creating the content; it’s getting access to quality books — the prices right now are mad. A new book is released and everybody is hyping it. But by the time it gets to Nigeria, you’re hearing  ₦8k per copy. 

    Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I used to receive books from international publishers but now, it’s almost impossible. The rare chance that a publisher sends books over here, I’ll start hearing stories that the books got missing in the mail. Right now, I’m counting five books that were sent to me but I didn’t receive them. 

    Anyway, I want to finish reading The First Woman before evening so that I can post a photo of it and write a review. 

    I make sure to finish cooking, cleaning and doing market runs so that when I’m done, nobody will send me message again today. When I come back from the market, I take my bath, relax and dive right into The First Woman.

    THURSDAY

    The thing that’s on my mind this morning is that I’m not happy. 

    I tell myself not to be ungrateful because I’ve made friends from the community and I really enjoy being a content creator. I’ve also hacked consistency because I manage to post at least 25 times a month. No matter what, I show up every day.

    But it feels like my life is not moving forward. I’m yet to gain admission into the university and I’ve been trying to get admission. I applied to study medicine as far back as 2016, but I didn’t get admission. Then I tried medical lab science because I didn’t want to do microbiology; I still didn’t get in. It’s now as if I’m an olodo.

    But now I’m thinking maybe I should rewrite WAEC and shift my focus to mass communication as I already have social media management and creator experience. But I don’t even know if I’m cut out for it.

    Anyway, by the time I finish my chores, I’m no longer feeling down. I’m good at what I do and I see myself getting better every day. One day, I’ll work with global publishing brands and get exciting life-changing opportunities.

    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

  • African writers are awesome in many things: they write the most thoughtful prose; they’re also great at building remarkable worlds and making us fall in love with their characters, etc. 

    But there’s one area where they fail so badly at: writing sex scenes in their stories. It’s either they shy away from writing sex scenes or they write them as badly as their Nollywood counterparts. 

    A couple examples of epic fails: Ben Okri wrote a rocket-sex scene that won him a Literary Review Bad Sex in Fiction Award in his 2014 novel, The Age of Magic; over six decades ago, in 1954, Mongo Beti wrote the longest and most ridiculous sex Scene in an African novel.

    But while you’ve probably been exposed to bad sex writing by African writers, there’re actually some pretty hot sex scenes in African stories, rare as they might be. My list includes scenes from short stories, anthologies and full-length novels.

    1. “Indulgence” by Joyce Nawiri, from Erotic Africa: The Sex Anthology

    He slowly caressed my thighs and his hand journeyed upwards till his fingers found a resting place for their magic. For three years I had been married, but my husband would not recognize my pussy in a lineup. His dick was the only contact he made with my body, and that wasn’t very often.

    Father Silas slid two fingers inside of me and, after a few seconds, I began to grind against them and even found myself spreading my thighs further apart for him. My hips found the luxury of balance in his hands. Although I quivered and moaned, he didn’t break rhythm. He knew the exact rubbing pressure to exert against my clitoris; a little fast but not too much to prevent me from climaxing.

    “Put me on the bench,” I pleaded, and he did, only not the way I intended. He made me kneel on the bench with my feet hanging off in such a way that my buttocks stuck out to his groin. Holding my skirt up to my waist, I heard his belt unbuckle. I bent lower, yearning for him to quench the thirst he had awakened. As he pinned himself closer, I felt his cock nudging at my entrance. I exhaled and my body opened to receive him. At first, he was slow but once fully inside, his thrusts were so powerfully vicious that I froze almost immediately at its strength. As I relaxed, he began to plough me, faster and deeper. I could feel every hardened bit of him as he continued to wreck me, surprising me with the flexibility of his waist. Our moans and groans filled the chapel.

    With each thrust, I could feel his power. Sweat dripped off us. My vagina flooded. This man was working me the way a blacksmith handled hot iron. Suddenly he whispered, “Our acts scream hell.”

    “But what we are making here is heaven.”

    The tabooest sex in the history of taboos. Phew!

    RECOMMENDED: Sex Life: I Was No Longer Scared of Being Sexual in God’s Presence

    2. When We Speak of Nothing by Olumide Popoola

    The hands went everywhere. The lips, the mouth. Their clothes piled around them. Their naked skin touched the cement. It helped. It helped cool the heat that rose from the skin. It was strange to have his body all exposed. To show everything. Stranger even to have hers like that, close up. She was so soft it tickled him each time her skin touched his body. Especially when her hands travelled down his arms or up his legs, worst at the back, up the spine. The hairs stood, but it felt good.

    Her hand took his and guided it until he was inside her. Moved it, so that he could feel what felt best to her.

    Janoma opened, leaning her back against the wall of the shack and reached with her hand between Karl’s legs. Karl knelt, his hand deeper, his face between her thighs now until her stickiness spread past his lips, all over his chin, and she moaned, trying to hide the sounds from the outside world. The heat seemed trapped inside their bodies, spreading and trying to push out. Pushed and pushed until her legs clamped his face and she moved her head. Opened her eyes to look at him. He was panting. When he leaned back her hand slid out between his legs.

    After Karl visits Nigeria and falls in love with Janoma, the two young lovers have a hideaway to have sex for the first time, after their previous attempt was interrupted. The scene works so well because it’s not trying too hard or taking itself too seriously. It’s honest and short and awkward, but it’s satisfying.

    3. The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta

    He found himself rolling towards her, giving her nipples gentle lover’s bites, letting his tongue glide down the hollow in the center of her breasts and then back again. He caressed her thigh with his good hand, moving to her small night lappa and fingering her coral waist-beads. Ona gasped and opened her eyes. She wanted to scream. But Agbadi was faster, more experienced. He slid on his belly, like a big black snake, and covered her mouth with his. He di not let her mouth free for a long time. She struggled fiercely like a trapped animal, but Agbadi was becoming himself again. He was still weak, but not weak enough to ignore his desire. He worked on her, breaking down all her resistance. He stroked and explored with his perfect hand, banking heavily on the fact that Ona was a woman, a mature woman, who had had him many a time. And he was right. Her struggling and kicking lessened. She stared to moan and groan instead, like a woman in labor. He kept on, and would not let go, so masterfully was he in this art. He knew he had reduced her to longing and craving for him. He knew he had won. He wanted her completely humiliated in her burning desire. And Ona knew. So she tried to counteract her feelings in the only way she guessed would not give her away.

    “I know you are too ill to take me,” she murmured.

    “No, my Ona, I am waiting for you to be ready.”

    She felt like screaming to let free the burning of her body. How could one’s body betray one so! She should have got up and run out, but something was holding her there; she did not know what and she did not care. She wanted to be relieved of the fire inside her. “Please, I am in pain.”

    She melted and could say no more. She wept and the sobs she was trying to suppress shook her whole being. He felt it, chuckled, and remarked thickly, “Please, Ona, don’t wake the whole household.”

    Either she did not hear, or he wanted her to do just that, for he gave her two painful bites in between her breasts, and she in desperation clawed at him, and was grateful when at last she felt him inside her.

    He came deceptively gently, and so unprepared was she for the passionate thrust which followed that she screamed, so piercingly that she was even surprised at her own voice: “Agbadi, you are splitting me in two!’

    Suddenly the whole compound seemed to be filled with moving people. A voice, a male voice, which later she recognized to be that of Agbadi’s friend Obi Idayi, shouted from the corner of the courtyard: “Agbadi! Agbadi! Are you alright?”

    Again came the law laughter Ona loved and yet loathed so much. “I am fine, my friend. You go to sleep. I am only giving my woman her pleasures.”

    Emecheta weaved in sexual tension and even elicited a couple of laughs in such a sad story. And the build-up of anticipation? Oh boy!

    4. “Solutions” by Howard Maximus, from The Vanguard Book of Love Stories

    THE FIRST TIME Papa V. asked Lucy to spend the night, she shaved and brought coconut oil for massage. In Vanessa’s bedroom—for he couldn’t take Lucy to his matrimonial bed just yet—, they kissed and fondled each other for several minutes, she telling him how good he looked for a man his age, his body toned and his belly flat enough, and he pecking and necking and smacking and moaning, massaging and then more kissing, but when she was ready to receive him, Papa V. did not rise….

    The day it finally happened, Papa V. came to his room to find Lucy dressed in his late wife’s clothes. She wore the same woody perfume his late wife wore. She would later tell him how Vanessa had come up with this when she had gone to their university to visit and that had come up.
    “You bring up our sex life with my kids?” he’d ask, and she would tell him how desperate she was to make it work. Now, they were lying close to each other, overwhelmed by the fact that they had finally done it, when Papa started to apologize.

    In the coming days, he would try all the things she wanted to try. On one night, she would be the queen and he would be the slave, going down on his knees, following her around the room; on another, she would be a celebrity and he would be a fan, and on another, she would be a naughty doctor and he would be a patient; but always, it ended in disappointing sighs, Papa V. rising a little, and then falling like a limp-stalked plant.

    The lovers finally have sex after several attempts. I love that Maximus spotlights an unlikely couple, shows sex can be awkward and people don’t always get it right the first time.

    RECOMMENDED: Sex Life: Sleeping With Older Men Changed My Life

    5. “Lost Stars” from A Broken People’s Playlist by Chiemeka Garricks

    When I returned on Thursday, I went to your flat at Stadium Road. Famished, we didn’t make it to your bedroom. We tore at each other’s clothes, but gave up mid-way and merged, half-dressed on your living-room wall. As your face headed down between my legs, as always, we paused for a moment and chuckled, because we remembered – the first time you ate me, my first time ever, I farted uncontrollably through a long orgasm, and you rolled off and laughed till I joined in. Thursday was kisses, bites, sweat, thrusts and screams – a frenzied mauling because there was no tomorrow. Liquid electric, it coursed through every cell, jolted my body alive, but felt good for my spirit like a homecoming. Eventually, we collapsed to the floor beside your door. After, we stumbled to your room where we drank wine, cuddled, and ribbed each other. Then we did it again, slower, bodies rhyming gently, because of scarred souls. Then we napped (different sides of the bed because I disliked being cuddled when I slept), woke, and talked. It was when you touched my head that I realised my wig had fallen off.

    Writers often get it wrong with using metaphors for sex. But the unexpectedness of this scene in the story and the awkwardness right after the sex made it feel… authentic.

     A Bouquet of Dilemma by Tayo Emmanuel

    He is singing into my ears now. It’s Boyz 2 Men’s I’ll make love to you. That’s the only thing he needs to do to keep me going. My breathing becomes heavier as I remove his shirt and my clothes. He goes on kissing me and humming at the same time. My hands and mouth are all over him with sheer hungry passion, caressing, kissing, fondling. I feel his erection, yet he is not hurrying me, in fact he is trying to slow me down, but I am past that point of no return. I am afraid if I stop now, I will never get around it with him and I want him so bad. My whole body is taut and tingling and sultry; how do you ever find the right words at this moment? I am on the bed, naked and ready; he manages to extract and wear a condom before lying down next to me. He is still humming, more quietly, when I feel him inside me. Gently at first, then getting bigger and pushing deeper. Must pain and pleasure always go together, I wonder. It’s a sticky burning sensation, it’s consuming, it’s liberating; I’m crying and shouting his name and he is shouting mine too and it seems like I am about to faint, but I don’t. I feel some more stickiness, then silence. “I love you so much, baby.”

    “I love you too.”

    Is it a little cheesy and matter-of-fact? But it’s urgent and provocative; it gets the people going.

    ALSO READ: 8 Books by Nigerian Women Everyone Should Read in Women’s History Month

  • 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 today’s “A Week in the Life” is a Nollywood screenwriter who got his first major screenwriting gig on the same day he quit his old job. We explore how he juggles multiple writing projects to make ends meet and why Nigerians need to calm down when criticising Nollywood.

    MONDAY

    One thing about this career is that it’s hard for me to rest. I worked all through last week and all weekend. So even though I told myself I’d use today to rest, I’m somehow in front of my laptop, working.

    When I woke up this morning, I decided to sit in bed and open my laptop to watch films. It was all going fine and well when my brain started having thoughts. Next thing I knew, I’d written a pitch for a TV show. 

    This same thing that stresses me is also what’s cool about my job because my work also happens to be my passion. I live for creating ideas for films, series or skits. As long as it needs a script, you’ll find me there. 

    After that burst of energy, I freshen up, settle down and begin writing a breakdown of the show. Breakdowns are basically a scene-by-scene outline of everything that’ll happen in an episode of a show. Most of the work I get is on a contractual basis, so after developing a story and writing a pitch, I have to shoot my shot at producers. Then, I have to draft these scenes before sending them to other screenwriters to flesh them out. 

    When I write a new story, I like to draft an outline and write out every idea that comes to mind. Then I piece them together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. I grab cups of green tea while listening to my playlist that helps me get in my zone. Once I get into that zone, I’m laser-focused. I can only rest after I’ve completed the first draft.

    I spend the rest of the day reviewing my breakdowns and editing them. I also edit scripts written by other writers, only stopping to eat lunch and stretch my muscles. By midnight, I’m exhausted. I manage to make it to my bed and sleep off.

    TUESDAY

    As a writer, life in Nollywood is stressful because I have to take on a lot of work simultaneously. I can be writing a TV show while writing movies on the side. So I have to compartmentalise my brain because I’m dealing with multiple stories and multiple characters simultaneously, making sure they don’t spill into each other. When I have a job that consumes a lot of my time, then I can take one other job, and even a third. But for shorter gigs, I joggle even more projects at once.

    When I started my career, I struggled with doing multiple things. The ideal, productive way to work is to do one thing at a time. But handling multiple projects is like a muscle; when you work a muscle enough, you can do more things. Now, I’m used to the life. Even when I’m working on commissioned gigs, I’m also working on personal projects — I’m currently working on four projects in different genres.

    I don’t like to limit myself because I like making different things. I study genres and sub-genres, so when I’m thrown into a situation, I want to be able to tap into something I know about a different genre or different style of writing. 

    When I was younger, I worked seven days a week, but as I got more settled in my career, I learnt to use my time more efficiently. I’m very close to 30 now, and so these days, I give myself at least one day of rest in a week. After the unplanned ginger of yesterday, I’ll give myself today to relax and chill. 

    But I never stop thinking about work.

    WEDNESDAY

    Every part of this job is stressful, but what stresses me out the most is the lack of job security.

    Experts always advise young people to not quit their day job for their passions, but in 2016, that’s exactly what I did. Lucky me, I got my first screenwriting gig on the same day I quit a job that was paying me ₦44k per month. I’d been writing scripts for two years prior and sharing with people, but I never did it for money. When I decided to switch to full-time screenwriting, my first gig more than tripled my monthly earnings.

    My first year on the job was smooth. I wrote a tonne of episodes, and people said good things about the show. I started carrying shoulder thinking I was the shit.

    But in 2017? Crazy things were happening.

    As a screenwriter in Nigeria, one always you have to think about is the next thing you’re going to do. There’s no time to rest on laurels or relax because once a show ends, you have to go find another job.

    I used to believe that my work will always speak for me. Since I was good enough, I didn’t need to go around hawking my craft. I believed that the universe would always bring stuff to my doorstep. 

    Now that I’m much older and more experienced, I know I can’t just believe that things will always come to me just because I’m very good at what I do. People have to know that I am, and the only way for them to know is for me to go and show them.

    For the first half of 2017, I got barely-paying offers. I also had health issues, so all the money I’d made the previous year was running out at breakneck speed. I had to start deliberately putting myself out there and selling my market shamelessly. I started going to writers’ workshops and events and demonstrating my ability.  

    Later in the year, someone who I’d connected with at one of these events recommended me for a gig with a producer I’d never worked with. Then I received a call and went to show how good at my stuff I am. Later on, I got signed to write for a major TV show that gave me the break I desperately needed and the job security that I didn’t have at the beginning of that year.

    By 10 p.m., I get up from my desk, take one last cup of tea to get ready for bed.

    THURSDAY

    Today, I’m very frustrated because there’s been no light since Monday, and this fuel scarcity is becoming a real needle in my ass. I live in an area of Lagos serviced by Ikeja Electrical Premium, so I pay a higher tariff. For the past two years, I’ve enjoyed a decent power supply — 20 hours’ light minimum. I set up unlimited home internet so I can work comfortably from home and get into my “zone”. I don’t like going out or doing that thing where writers go to a coffee shop and type away because I don’t like noise around me when I’m working. 

    But since there’s no light, I have to go out. The coffee shop I go to is so distracting I can barely gather my thoughts. So I look away from my laptop and assess the other diners. The trio of friends closest to me is talking about a big-budget film that just flopped. I open Twitter to check if I can get the gist.

    The news jumps out at me. People are PISSED. The whole of Nigerian social media is full of insults and banter. As a professional in Nollywood, this kind of criticism gets to me even if I’m not directly involved, so I zone out.

    Thing is, even though the comments trigger me, I understand the discontent. When you eat at a restaurant and the service is poor, you have the right to come online and write a review. If you spend your money on something you don’t like, it’s annoying. But I wish people would understand we’re also human and though we’re doing our best, sometimes things go wrong. 

    The film industry is a money-driven artform, and Nollywood is still very small. The way movies typically make money is via cinemas, but Nigerians don’t even have a cinema culture. We’re a TV series nation that was raised on family TV shows and home videos. 

    Most Nigerians started going to cinemas in just the last decade, and it’s still a luxury over here because we live in a third-world country. How can we compare ourselves with the Hollywood and Bollywood cultures where the last two to three generations have always gone to cinemas to spend money?

    How many Nigerians can afford to spend money on transport, movie tickets, popcorn, and go watch a movie every weekend? It becomes a risk on the part of the audience when they do decide to spend some thousands of naira to watch a film. It’s also a risk for filmmakers because the studios want to recoup as many profits as they can, which is why they invest in movie formulas that have been proven to work overtime.

    Nollywood is still a young industry. But things are slowly changing, especially with streaming services, so filmmakers no longer have to rely solely on the box office. Streaming reaches more audiences without relying on movie ticket sales. 

    FRIDAY

    IKEDC finally brought light today, thank God. 

    I was having a very productive workday when someone ruined it. I received a call in the afternoon that made me lose my shit.

    There are two types of clients that frustrate me. On one hand are the clients who have no idea of what they really want. They’re so opinionated and never listen to me, the professional that they hired. Which is funny because how can you be so stubborn when you don’t even know the direction you want to take?  And then there’s the second set of people — oh my God, these ones make me want to stick a fork in my eyes. They always want to pay peanuts for solid work. 

    The person who called me this afternoon belongs to this latter category.

    He’d reached out to me last year to handle a scriptwriting project for him. And the amount he was offering for all the work required meant he was demanding slave labour. I refused it.

    Today, he called and told me that he’d hired writers and they’d started the project, but they didn’t like what they were doing, and so they were starting again. But he still wanted me to collect small money. I’m laughing now sha, but at least he’s better than the producer who blocked me after I gave him my rates. 

    That one was trying to use the fact that we’re both Igbo to get me to collect chicken change. Are we in Onitsha market? Who is your brother please? Anyway, I took a breath and told him that if he couldn’t afford to pay me, I could ask other people, but I wasn’t going to accept that offer. He hung up and blocked me.

    I see terrible things in this industry.

    SATURDAY

    If I wasn’t writing so many episodes, I would probably be behind the director on set, providing clarity on small details that make huge differences in the shows or adjusting the script to help writers deliver their lines better. But I can’t because I’m currently writing for a show with 260 episodes a year and simply don’t have the time. When I wake up this morning, I make a cup of green tea and jump right into work.

    By the time I finish my second draft, it’s 5 p.m. already. I take a break and walk around my neighbourhood. 

    I’m grateful for the career I’d had so far working at my dream job. Look at me, working on a major network TV show and I’m not even 30 yet. But I still have fears: I’m so good at what I do, and I never want to be complacent. A shark has to keep moving because if it stops moving, it dies.

    I would literally die if I stopped giving my all. That’s why I’m now trying new things. I’m now trying my hands at feature films. 

    I don’t know what’s ahead of me until I get there. And even if I can’t see the full vision for my career yet, let me sha be moving forward.

    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