• Burn out happens when you’re going through a lot of stress, especially at work. Take this quiz to find out how burnt out you are.

    [donation]

  • On most Father’s Days, we’re often drowned in the deluge of stories about fathers and their failings. For this year’s Father’s Day, I wanted people to talk about their favourite things about their fathers. I hope these stories warm your heart as much as they warmed mine.

    Dupe

    My favourite thing about my dad is that he’s always there to support me, even when I make mistakes. I recently had a revenge porn issue with my ex-boyfriend and my dad was super supportive. He had the guy picked up and dealt with and he didn’t judge me at all. He just listened and gave me advice. me. We might fall out sometimes but I’m always glad he’s my father.

    Damilola

    The relationship with my Dad isn’t so great because I’m not the ideal child. I’m always getting into trouble and most times, I disappoint him. Despite this, he’s always there for me, no matter what I’ve done. He shows up for me when I get in trouble, time and time again. He probably thinks I hate him or I’m spoilt but I really do love him and I hope I can get the opportunity to tell him how much he means to me. Our conversations these days are usually him complaining about something I’ve done but one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell him.

    Sonia

    My favourite thing about my dad is him calling him his little princess. I don’t let anyone call me a princess or anything, but I’m his princess, for real.

    Alma

    My dad just died in January. I think the most amazing thing about him was his big heart. He’d give everything to see the next person happy and strong. There’s this one time I was sick and I needed to be treated abroad. He was also pretty sick, but he gave up all the money just so I’d get treated by the best doctors. 

    Tola

    My dad is my best friend. As far back as nursery school, he’s always been involved in our lives. He’s not the conventional dad who just pays school fees and ghosts. He remembers and buys us gifts on our birthdays, checks in on our academics and even cooks for us. When I failed JAMB and GCE, he didn’t get mad or even tell me my result in order not to let it depress me. He’s very intentional about our lives and I couldn’t ask for a better father.

    When Divorced Fathers Are Estranged From Adult Children

    Rotimi

    My favourite thing about my dad is his huge sense of duty and responsibility. He is dependable, not just to his immediate family. He taught me that it’s very possible to be best friends with your wife even into old age. He’s the one that (still) shows up at the stepping down spots; if he was heading out in the evening, he would always ask her if she wanted to come along. I’ve never heard him yell at my mum or hurl an insult at her. A role model in that regard.

    Johnson

    My dad is an OG.  He knows what he wants and goes for it. We’ve not had the best relationship, which is mostly my fault, but I know I can always count on him.

    Betini

    It’s my dad’s sense of humour, for me. He can turn anything into a joke, no matter how bad it is.  He might shout at me and piss me off, but he breaks into a laugh right after and you’re thinking, “this man is not serious.” Even when you think you’re angry with him, you can’t stay mad for long because by the time he says something and starts laughing, you’ll not see the point of staying angry sef.

    Matthew

    My dad’s a lecturer in my department and the one thing I really like is his ability to balance his work-son relationship. He’s my gist partner when I want to talk about women despite being one of the strictest lecturers I know.

    [donation]

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.


    Today’s Man Like is Seni Oremodu, a 27-year old digital marketer. He talks about how his mother’s death and secondary school experiences made him lose his faith and interest in religion and dealing with an identity crisis.

    What did you see yourself doing when you were younger?

    I wanted to be a pastor. Everyone thought I was going to be a pastor. Then I started asking questions about religion no one could answer. I moved on to science. I wanted to be a nuclear scientist, but Nigeria has a way of narrowing the scope of your dreams. I opted to study chemical engineering instead. When I was 18, I visited a friend and met someone making beats. I picked up an interest in music production, and I made beats to make extra money in uni. In 300-level, I teamed up with a drummer friend and formed a boy band named Publiq.

    When I graduated, someone asked me to manage a couple of social media accounts because my tweets were funny. I had no idea how to manage accounts. I flopped my way through that job, so I took courses in digital marketing to learn it. Digital marketing wasn’t what I had in mind since I studied chemical engineering, but when I get involved with a topic, I become completely obsessed with it. That’s what happened with digital marketing. I worked as a digital marketer for a couple of years. Now, I’m the head of growth at Onboardly, a startup.

    Wow. That’s quite the professional journey. Tell me all about losing your religion.

    Ah. Well. I grew up in Port Harcourt. I wasn’t aware at the time, but we were poor. I couldn’t afford certain things, but my parents did their best to provide. I only realised that I wasn’t in the same social class as other kids when they showed off toys in school.

    My mom died when I was 12 and that sent me down a spiral.  Answers were not forthcoming when I asked questions, I read the entire bible, and it did little to satisfy me. I went on to read books about atheism by authors like Richard Dawkins, and I think it was in my teenage years that I swung into my agnosticism. 

    When I got into secondary school, which was a military school in Uyo, I completely disconnected from religion due to the abuse and bullying.

    Wow.

    My dad sent me to a military school because he had the idea that it would make me stronger. I was beaten every day. It was so bad that the junior students used to fantasise about how they would beat juniors when they were promoted. 

    Did it make me stronger? In a twisted way, yes. For example, I’m not afraid of soldiers. They beat us every day, so I don’t feel threatened when a soldier comes on the scene.

    Did it affect your relationship with your dad?

    I love my dad. I’m a lot like him. Because I was young when I lost my mother, my father’s character was heavily imprinted on me. He’s a very funny guy, and I got my sense of humour from him. I also got a lot of my morality from my dad. He used to make us do morning devotion every day, we always learnt something new. 

    I inherited his just-do-it attitude, and I’m really proud of that. He had a fixation on ensuring my siblings and I learnt the multiplication table. He forced us to learn it by heart, claiming that if we knew the table, math would be easy. True to form, math and chemistry became my favourite subjects, hence my obsession with nuclear science and later, chemical engineering. He made me understand that it’s not too late to chase anything that interests you. To him, when you stop experiencing new things is when you stop living. He actually went back to school six years ago to study law, at 62 years old. He’s due to be called to the bar this year. 

    He also taught me to be responsible. During my IT in 300-level, I was working in an oil company in Port Harcourt. My dad called one day and advised me to save up my money. When I was to resume 400-level, I asked my dad for money to pay my school fees. He laughed and said, “What did you think I was telling you to save for?” I paid my final year fees from my pocket.

    LMAO. Who had the biggest impact on your idea of masculinity?

    I’ve always struggled with my identity, having been born to Yoruba and Rivers parents. On one hand, I am a Rivers boy who spent my formative years in Port Harcourt, but I never really acclimatised because I was an indoorsy child. On the other hand, I’m a Yoruba boy in Lagos who can’t speak Yoruba. People often want to put me in a box and when I don’t fit neatly into any one, they’re not quite sure what to do with me. 

    I was still unsure of my identity when it was time for university. Then I met my cousin, Niggydip in UNILAG. He was the older brother I never had. He’s the one who advised me to study chemical engineering instead of electrical engineering, given my mathematical talents. He always looked out for me and made sure I was fine in school. He actually introduced me to puns. He took me under his wings, took me to shows and concerts while I was in school. He’s the kind of guy to make sure everyone around him was taken care of. I looked up to him for everything and actively tried to model my life after his.

    In my final year in uni, he had a cardiac arrest while he was out jogging and slumped. Bystanders, instead of helping him, robbed him of his personal effects instead. I cried. I also missed his burial. On the day of his funeral, I had an exam scheduled. I rushed through the exams to try to make the ceremony, but I was too late.

    I’m sorry man. How did you deal with that?

    You learn to move on.  Life just has a way of going on, no matter how heavy the grief is in your heart. You grieve until you can talk about the person without breaking down every time. Life just has a way of going on, no matter how heavy the grief is in your heart. I learnt to move with the times because one minute, people are consoling you for your loss, the next, they’re back to tweeting about Lai Mohammed. 

    My support system also helped me get through it. 

    I’m glad. What are you looking forward to?

    Because I didn’t grow up around a lot of money, I’ve been a content person. I can be stingy to myself. My career gradually went on an upward trajectory, and I started making more money but didn’t have much to spend money on. I’ve decided that I work too hard to deny myself things, so I’m trying to learn to buy things for myself and give myself treats like vacations. Like my dad, I believe the moment you stop experiencing things is when you start dying, so I intend to experience as much as I can. I want to travel and find things that I enjoy. 

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • Everyone has those small, seemingly minor things that turn them off people, commonly called an “ick”. We spoke to seven men about what their unforgivable, weirdest ick is and they had some hilarious answers.

    Dave

    People who are too eager are my biggest icks. Maybe it’s my fear of commitment, but the more someone makes it obvious that they like me, the less I tend to like them. So, that texting everyday thing that people on Twitter swear is the hallmark of every great relationship is something I can’t do.

    Korede David

    If I notice a babe has a male bestie, I’m out. I’d feel like you’re doing stuff we might do together as couples with him. Someone of the opposite sex can’t really be your bestie.

    Jonathan

    My ick is having dry lips. Once your lips are cracked and chapped like the ground of the desert, I’m out.

    The cracked dry ground because of drought, Concept drought and crisis  environment. stock photo e0dbf45b-913c-4f25-8a7b-3dd21228bea1

    Ben

    Seeing a woman I wanna fuck tying wrapper is such a big ick. Please just stay naked or wear a t-shirt. A wrapper is such a downer for me, my God.

    Chike

    Poor grammar. I know it makes me seem pedantic but it just irks me when the person I want to sleep with can’t speak good English.

    Tobi

    I’m a sensitive person so I don’t like when people “playfully” insult me, like calling me  “ode”. It’s a major turn-off. People say I take things too seriously, but it is what it is. Don’t play rough with me when it comes to words. I’ll believe you.

    Tunde

    It’s dishonesty for me. I think it’s usually unproductive and I despise that.

    Want to disappear down a rabbit hole of men-focused content? Click here.

    [donation]

  • What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.


    This week’s Man Like is Temitayo “Ikoyi” Ogundare, a lawyer and actor. He talks about his devastation when he failed his bar exams, living up to his father’s expectations and finding his feet again after an unfortunate business decision.

    Lawyer and actor. How did that combination happen?

    I’ve always had a passion for the stage. While studying law at Obafemi Awolowo University, a group of friends and I created a troupe called Pigment Theatre. We used to go around the South West enacting stage plays. I also used to star in skits. You’ll find me in skits with Agba and MC Lively. During my NYSC year, I got my little big break when I was invited to join the crew of a social commentary talk show on Red TV. That was when I started getting a bit of attention. I didn’t grow up thinking I was going to be a lawyer because I come from a family of actors, such as Taiwo Obileye. I grew up watching him do his thing alongside his colleagues and I was very attracted to the lifestyle. Getting to meet movie stars in real life made me want to become an actor.

    Nice. What was growing up like?

    I came from a small family of my parents and a young brother and grew up in the city of Ibadan. I had quite a strict upbringing. I went to a Catholic school and my father was quite the stern man, but I was still mischievous. My childhood was simple. We were a small family who didn’t go out a lot because my dad is obsessed with security. He didn’t let us mingle with neighbours and he never used to take nonsense. My mom has always been my guy. She’s one of my best friends.

    I imagine you must have had quite a number of conflicts with your dad.

    It was complicated. I admire my dad a lot; he’s a smart and diligent man. However, our personalities are very alike and we tend to clash often. I didn’t like the fact that he wanted me to mature much quicker than my age just because I was the firstborn. I wanted to be like every other kid but he had a lot of expectations for me and when I struggled under the weight, we’d have problems. He had big dreams for me I struggled to live up to. I’m glad he was hard on me because I can now appreciate that he was training me for a world that’s cold and tough. Many of the things I learned unwillingly are now useful for me in my journey.

    I wrote the bar exams for the first time in 2017 and failed. That was the first time I ever heard that my dad cried. I was already going through so much emotional and mental torture from the feeling of failure but hearing that my dad cried just tore through me. I knew I had disappointed him. The fact that my failure broke his heart broke my own heart. I felt like I couldn’t face him. 

    Aww. What’s the most awkward moment you’ve ever had with your dad?

    In my final year of university, I was home during a break. The night before I was due to return to school, he found a box of condoms under my bed.

    A whole box? Sir…

    LMAO. I had been involved with an NGO in school that gave out free condoms to students to help prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases. There was some leftover, which I took with me when I went home for the break.

    Sure. Let’s go with that story.

    LMAO. Anyway, the next day, he decides to drop me off in school, which was in the next state. In the middle of the trip, he parks on the shoulder of the expressway. He turns, looks at me dramatically  and says, “I know you’re an adult now, but that doesn’t mean you should go about having sex with everybody.” I was shocked. I asked him what he meant and he told me about his discovery in my room. It was then I explained to him about my activities with the NGO. I’m not sure he believed me.

    I’m not sure I believe you either.

    LMAO.

    Who do you consider your role models?

    I don’t believe in having just one role model because no one’s perfect. The ideal thing, which I practice, is to pick positive traits in different people who you admire. I’ve had a number of older people who I’ve learned from. One of them is my dad. He taught me how to be a gentleman. He’s also not a man of many words but he carries such a gravitas that you have to take him seriously. Another person is my boss, Femi Wright. He’s a brilliant man and someone I look up to. I also admire Richard Mofe-Damijo. He’s the image of the man I want to be like. He’s aged like fine wine, hasn’t he? You’ll find women falling over themselves for him.

    Speaking of, what’s your relationship with women like?

    I think women are amazing people. I have more female friends than male friends because I find it easier to relate with women and they feel comfortable around me.

    Have you had your heart broken before?

    As a legend once said, “Gbo gbo wa la ma je breakfast.” We will all eat breakfast. As long as you interact with women, you will have a heartbreak story. I’ve eaten breakfast, back to back. The most memorable, however, was this girl I dated. It was all nice and rosy until she told me she couldn’t continue the relationship. We were at a mall when she told me this and, right there and then, in front of hundreds of strangers, I knelt to beg her not to leave me because, honestly, I was crazy about her. It was heart-wrenching because I had no idea why I was being broken up with. It’s still one of the most embarrassing memories I have ever had, but it’s all water under the bridge.

    How do you combine showbiz with practising law?

    It’s not been easy but I’ve been able to make it work. When I failed the bar exam the first time, I decided to undergo my Youth Service. I still wanted to practice law but I was also interested in trying out as an actor. Since I had hit an obstacle in my law career, I wanted to strain myself to my limits to see what I could make of my other talents. That year, Red TV reached out to me that they’d like me to join a reality talk show called Red Hot Topics.

    After I re-wrote and passed the bar exam, I got a job at a law firm. I was giving both my job at the law firm and my reality TV show my all and doing the best I could. I worked at the law firm for a year. I didn’t think my gig with Red TV would be a problem, after all, I wasn’t doing it on company time. I was wrong. Immediately they found out I was on a reality TV show, the partners summoned me before I disciplinary panel and I had to give a presentation on why I should keep my job despite being on a talk show. By the time the show aired on YouTube, I was fired.

    It was quite challenging. I considered ditching law to focus on entertainment full time, but having written the bar exam twice, I wasn’t willing to come this far to give it all up and lock my certificates in the wardrobe. I applied to law firms and companies trying to get other jobs, but they weren’t forthcoming. Having to navigate life as a man during that period required me to do some growing up. I was a young man, trying to hustle in Lagos, away from home in Ibadan. Bills were piling up and I wasn’t getting a lot of income. I eventually got my current job at a professional services firm.

    Did you have a support system?

    I was able to survive that period thanks to my brother and my friends. They came through for me so many times and I’ll never forget what they did for me. It’s why I place a lot of importance on friendships. I don’t take them for granted. My parents also helped me out from time to time.

    Tell me about the time you’ve been the most afraid in your life.

    LMAO, it was actually very recent. You think one challenge is the greatest until you face another one. This challenge was the one that made me realise that all my previous challenges were child’s play.

    Sometime last year, I had a business idea to buy some products from the US and re-sell them here in Nigeria as a way to diversify my income stream. After solidifying my plans and making sure they were water-tight, I took a loan to start the business. Unfortunately, I did business with the wrong person. After sending the money, my business partner ghosted me. Soon after, the creditor came knocking, asking me to repay the loan. Together with the interest, it was a huge sum. 

    The moment I realised I had been scammed, I wanted to take my life because I had no idea how I could repay a loan running into millions. I was depressed for weeks and couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong because I was too embarrassed about the whole thing. I eventually told them and, again, my friends and my brother came through for me and rallied round to repay the loan. Tobi, Chris, Yemi, Tope and others will forever be in my heart. I’ll never forget what they did for me. I’m not over it but I learned a lot from the experience. We move.

    Damn. When was the last time you cried?

    I’m an emotional guy so I cry when I need to. My favourite artist is Drake so I know how to cry,  LMAO. I don’t think crying makes you less of a man. Being a man means being good to people and to yourself. A man never has to prove that he’s a man. It comes from within.

    What does a relaxing weekend look like for you?

    After a long week, I wake up late on Saturdays. There’ll probably be an owambe somewhere, seeing as all my friends are getting married. I don’t know where they are seeing the money. If there’s no wedding, I like to go to the beach to unwind by the seaside, my feet in the sand, the wind in my hair. In the evening, I’ll play soccer. On Sundays, I go to church, because it’s always nice to start the week with God. In the afternoon, I’ll watch the Premiership and prepare for a new work week. That’s pretty much it.


    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • The story of the 10 Plagues of Egypt you read in the Bible was scary but it didn’t tell of all the plagues. There was one more it failed to mention. No, it’s not COVID-19. It’s women coming to your house and stealing your clothes. The reason why your money is running out is because you keep buying shirts women end up stealing. So here are 6 sure ways you can prevent women from stealing your clothes like the robbers that they are.

    1. Lock your wardrobe when she comes around

    If you want to keep the thieves out, you have to keep your possessions under lock and key.  You get to keep your perfume safe too.

    Locking Double Closet Doors | Double closet doors, Double closet, Doors

    2. Don’t let her enter your room

    If she can’t enter your room, she won’t see the clothes and perfume to steal. You can hire a bouncer to stay outside your door.

    12" x 12" Notice No Entry Aluminum Sign - CustomSigns.com

    3. Don’t let her come to your house

    Forget Netflix and Chill. Hang in places like Chicken Republic or in a quiet park somewhere. That way you get to know her. If you must Netflix and Chill, go to her house. You might even find something nice to steal for yourself and turn the tables on them.

    Road Closures and Construction Updates – Grove City, Ohio

    4. Cuddle her when you sleep

    Hold her tight while you sleep, not only because you’re fond of her but also to prevent her from sorting through your clothes while you sleep to find the one she wants to take. A word is enough.

    5. Wear only trad

    She can’t steal your trad. The only downside is that you become one of those men that wear trad to the beach. That’s bad.

    6. Buy…interesting clothes

    If your clothes will cause a Lagosian to look at you twice, don’t worry, she won’t touch it with a long pole. You get to keep all your clothes.

    Josh2Funny Biography, Real Name, Age, Comedy and Net Worth | Contents101
  • The Twitter ban has affected a lot of people and businesses in different ways. We tend to overlook the impact Twitter has had in various aspects of our lives. One of such aspects is relationships. I spoke to 6 Nigerian men who found love on Twitter. They had such interesting stories.

    Tosin

    We had been following each other for years but we never interacted. One day, she posted a tweet late at night and I slid into her DMs. I ended up going to her place that night even though I had work the next day. That was very out of character for me. We started talking and just couldn’t leave each other alone. 

    Then the pandemic happened and we got stuck with each other. Being with her just made perfect sense. We still don’t know the exact date we started dating, but we’re together now.

    Timothy

    She replied to one of my tweets, telling me my tweets gave off a vibe she liked and she wanted to find out if it was the real me or just a social media facade. We continued to talk on the timeline until she sent me DM one day to discuss something and that’s how it all started.

    Daniel

    She tweeted a complaint about the constant short women slander on the TL. I pointed her towards my tweet professing my love for short women. We started talking until we fell inside a relationship.

    Seni

    We used to tweet at each other about random stuff; work, school work, insulting politicians together and exchanging friendly banter. One day, she says “we should meet up sometime.” That’s how we got married o. To Jesus be the glory.

    Olumuyiwa

    I think I became aware of her in 2016. That must have been the time I first followed her on Twitter.  She was anon, and I sort of found that interesting. At the time, I used to be pretty loud about my atheism. I had lost faith earlier in 2014 and I was still within that acute phase where people who are new to unbelief are pretty loud about it. So, our first conversation was about religion. At the time, she was very religious but there was a difference. 

    She was very non-judgemental. In all of our interactions, she sought to truly understand my point of view and asked really deep and intriguing questions. So, that was how we got talking and I realised that I enjoyed talking to her. We decided to meet up and now, we’ve been together for three years.

    Damola

    We started talking on the timeline last year after I noticed. She quoted a tweet of mine and I started talking to her like I do when people interact with me on Twitter. That’s how we became friends while she was in the UK at the time. There was no DM interaction until her birthday when I wished her a happy birthday. We started talking a lot more. 

    What kickstarted it was when someone tweeted “send your boyfriend money for lunch”. I mentioned her handle as a joke and she asked for my account number. I was surprised and considered her thoughtful. I joked that if I could afford a ring, I’d propose to her. She said she wouldn’t mind Haribos candy rings. So I found a way to send it to her in the UK. We started paying more attention to each other and became closer. I started catching feelings for her but I had just left a relationship that had a lot of baggage and wasn’t ready for another one. She returned to Nigeria, we met and it was just obvious that we had feelings for each other. We started dating shortly after.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.


    This week’s Man Like is Dare Aderinokun, a 34-year-old Nigerian man who went from being a banker to a bartender. He talks about making this career switch, his impostor syndrome and internal conflict around being the provider and how this change is improving his relationship with his kids.

    What was growing up like?

    Growing up, I didn’t want to be in the corporate world. My father thought it would be a good idea for me to learn to code while I was in university in Alabama, USA. There was a telecommunication boom in Nigeria at the time, so I added a computer major to my course. Unfortunately, I was bad at coding. I decided to go with marketing instead, which made me spend five years in university instead of three.

    When I arrived back in Nigeria, I was offered an entry-level spot in one of Nigeria’s top banks, and when I was asked which department I wanted to work in, I said “marketing”, without hesitation. I quickly found out that marketing in America was very different from marketing in Nigeria, which involved more sales than marketing rather than brand strategy, customer classification and fancy stuff like that. In Nigeria, marketing just meant meeting your targets every month, without much thought to fancy ideals. Nine years quickly went by, and when I looked back at them, I couldn’t say I felt any satisfaction working in the bank. It felt like I was trying to survive, month after month, target after target. My life was in fast-forward, and I wasn’t being my true self..

    So you weren’t really interested in the corporate world.

    Yeah. Even when I moved back to Nigeria, my social circle was in the arts scene — film directors, music producers. I didn’t really think of wealth as something I had to accumulate, but working in banking kinda puts you in that headspace 24/7. You start and end the day talking about other people’s money and how you can grow it. I was uninterested, but I’d wear that personality in the office. I was driven by a sense of duty to provide for my family just like my dad, who did whatever he had to do to keep us comfortable. It made me money but I didn’t feel fulfilled. 

    So you went from banking to bartending. How did that happen?

    I had my first drink when I was 13, and drinking and alcohol stuck with me. In my adult life, I found out that I liked drinking. People tend to associate drinking with social activities like going to a bar or a club, but I’m an introverted person that likes to create my own comforts at home. I didn’t exactly enjoy doing those things. I discovered that I loved creating cocktails and coming up with new recipes for drinks. So I spent my spare time online finding new recipes to try out. Before I knew it, I had amassed a collection of gin and whiskey in my house.

    I started inviting people from my office and my wife’s large family over to my house on weekends to try out my cocktails. It was so much fun watching people drink and go, “Wow, this is amazing.” At first, I thought they were just being nice because I was giving them free drinks, but more people began to share their opinions. My sister, who’s a baker, joined me in mixing cocktails and it appeared she had a knack for it as well. She’s good at extracting and substituting flavours in cocktails, which is important because you can’t always find all the cocktail ingredients here in Nigeria.

    When did you start considering quitting your job?

    I was 32 and people were telling me that I could make a business out of making cocktails, but there was nobody I could reference as being a reputable bartender in Nigeria. I started toying with the idea of quitting my bank job to start making cocktails. It seemed crazy at first. I reasoned that if I stayed in the banking industry, I’d make a senior management position within ten years. On the other hand, there wasn’t a career path for making cocktails.

    In 2019, my sister-in-law who ran a catering outfit came to visit, and I offered her a cocktail as I did to everyone. She fell in love with it and set up a kind of cocktail interview with her business partner. They asked me for different drinks, which I made without thinking much about it. They spoke between themselves and asked if I would like to serve at an event they were catering at.

    I was scared as hell. Here I was, a suit-wearing banker with no real bartending experience who didn’t like social activities and basically learned how to mix drinks on YouTube. The imposter syndrome was very strong then. To be honest, it still is.

    At the party, I found out that I enjoyed mixing drinks for people, and I had a lot of fun doing it.  From there, a senior executive from an oil and gas company reached out to my sister and me to make cocktails at their year-end party. I thought I had hit the big time because oil and gas companies were reputed to pay well. My sister and I decided to register a company. We named it Quacktails as an inside joke, because “quack” means a fake, and neither of us was formally trained. That’s how Quacktails came to be.

    Unfortunately, it turned out the company had spent the entire party budget on bringing musicians, so they ended up offering peanuts to us. It wasn’t even a sizable fraction of my salary. We turned it down. Meanwhile, my wife was blazing trails at her bank job, getting promotions and commendations. I was doubtful about leaving my job for this, afraid that I would be unable to provide for my family. I went back to focusing on my job. However, more people started to call us to make drinks for their events and business began to grow steadily.

    Then COVID happened.

    Ah, COVID.

    On the contrary, the lockdown was great for business. People were holed up in their houses with nothing to do and bored out of their minds. We started selling cocktails in small pouches we bought online so people anywhere in Lagos could order drinks from us. Steadily, we made more and more orders every week. We started getting reviews on social media, and before we knew it, our clientele grew. My house became an on-the-go bar. My wife, who has never had a drop of alcohol, also joined in making the cocktails. Legend is, she makes one of the best margaritas in Lagos.

    For the first time in a while, I felt alive. I wasn’t going through a brain-numbing ritual of suiting up to go to work to do the same old job, presenting on PowerPoint, poring over some boring documents every day. I had time with all my spirits and flavours and was discovering new tastes and drinks. The more time I spent at home, the less inclined I was to go back to working at the bank. I got to spend time with my family and didn’t have to go out. It was bliss.

    What happened after the lockdown?

    We went back to our day jobs. Only, this time, my phone was blowing up with orders. Even my co-workers who didn’t know it was my business ordered regularly. I was thinking, “What the hell is going on?” I thought it was going to die down but it only got bigger. I spent my lunch break checking through messages and sorting orders. I became a bartender and a banker at the same time. I was making my entire month’s salary in just a week of running the business. I became conflicted because I wasn’t sure what to do. Obviously, being the managing director in a bank beats being a bartender but at the same time, I had found new energy in doing stuff I liked. I could also support causes I wanted, which was a major issue with the bank where I risked losing my job for participating in the EndSARS protests. I didn’t support the organisation’s values and running my own business meant I would be able to speak on issues that are important to me. 

    I finally quit my job at the bank in March 2021. I was making my salary’s equivalent from a couple of days of business, all from the comfort of my home.  Sometimes, I have doubts, but the sense of fulfilment I get from making cocktails is unmatched. I didn’t want to be driven by profit all my life as an MD of a bank.

    Omo. What did your wife think of your resignation?

    She actually celebrated it. Far from considering me a failure, she knew I didn’t really enjoy my job and was glad I was following my passion.

    How do you feel about your decision now?

    It’s awesome being able to wake up when you want to and spend time with your family. I barely used to have any time to spend with my kids because I was always out early and back late. Now, I wouldn’t trade the time I spend with my children for anything else in the world. There’s no pressure to be the most profitable department, neither am I chasing crazy targets.

    I’m not driven by profit. I just want to run an organisation that stands for people and the community. My dad however was not pleased, at first. My uncle, rest his soul, was a founding member of the bank where I worked and my dad had hoped to keep his brother’s name alive. Then again, he came from a different time where providing was a man’s most important duty and all the talk about passion and interest sounds like nonsense to him. Now, my parents are supportive but they weren’t always.

    What’s it like being a father, especially now that you’ve quit your job?

    My first kid is six and the second is two. My purpose changed when they were born. I stopped focusing on enjoying life and started focusing on how to be a provider for my kids. My parents did a decent job of keeping us comfortable and I wanted to be able to do more as a father.

    Now, our relationship has improved. They’re happy to see me more often. I’m glad I’m able to nurture a relationship with them which I couldn’t have done while working at the bank. To them, I’d probably still be that grumpy man that comes back home every evening in a suit in a bad mood. I’m grateful for that. We have a great time watching cartoons together and that gives me a sense of being involved. Providing for your kids isn’t just the money you’re bringing, it’s also your time and attention.

    How does having a family conflict with your need for your own space?

    It’s tough sometimes. Sometimes I just want to mute everything around me, if I’m being honest. I’ve also created my own space where I can always go to be a recluse. Not to say I don’t love being around my kids — they’re the best things in my life.

    What’s your biggest fear as a father?

    There are many fears that come with fatherhood but my biggest fear is waking up one day and being unable to provide for my family. My wife is an industrious hard worker and I know that if at any point, I become unable to provide, she’ll pick up easily but it’s still a fear that always nags at me. With every weekend, I feel like that’s the weekend I wouldn’t get any orders and it would mean the failure of my business. I’m afraid people are going to wake up one day and think, “these cocktails are rubbish” and they wouldn’t order anymore. I still receive offers from competing banks but I don’t think I’m going back to a life of not being myself. I don’t want that anymore.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

  • The Nigerian government’s decision to suspend popular social media platform ban will hit Nigeria’s teeming youth population, for whom Twitter has become a source of escape from the hard-hitting Nigerian situation. Many use the platform to find job opportunities, companionship and networking. It will also prove to be disastrous for small and medium scale businesses that rely on Twitter as an e-commerce and marketing platform.

    What can we do about it?

    While your network provider might have locked you out of Twitter, you can bypass restrictions by using a you-know-what.

    While bypassing the block is a great idea, using VPNs are not ideal in the long run. Asides from the fact that they place a heavy toll on your battery life. As much as we might seem like the most resilient people, finding another loophole to bypass inconveniences set by the government is not sustainable. For one, the majority of 17 million Nigerian Twitter users are still unable to access the site, despite widespread VPN use. What’s more, the government might also instruct security forces to crack down on people who manage to use Twitter and VPNs in the country.

    So what can we do to help?

    Apply pressure on your representatives.

    It is important to also mount pressure on your elected officials: senators, members of the house of representatives. Send emails and call in to express your displeasure at the government’s violation of your freedom of speech. You can find your senate representative’s contact details here.

    The sleeping senators - Businessday NG

    Educate others.

    Educate people around you who don’t know what’s happening. Explain to them why the government’s suspension of Twitter’s services is illegal and violates their right to free speech.

    Get it trending on other social media

    Use social posts on all available platforms to protest the government’s attempt to undermine freedom of speech in Nigeria. Facebook, Whatsapp, Instagram and YouTube are still running. Use these platforms to make your voice heard against the government’s attempts at regulating social media. Use the hashtag #KeepItOn to continue fighting against censorship of the internet.

    What is social media? Here are 34 definitions... | Econsultancy

    [donation]

  • Fat people in Nigeria go through a lot of abuse and degradation from society at large. It seems they get no respite from the constant passive aggression and fatphobia. The male perspective on this topic isn’t often heard, so we talked to 5 men about what it was like to be fat in Nigeria.

    Tolu

    Growing up, I was a husky kid.  I remained big through my adolescence until I was in university when I lost a lot of weight. People treated me like I was more attractive because I was slimmer. While I enjoyed the attention, I hated the hypocrisy because those same people wouldn’t look at me twice if I was fat.

    In 2019, I was depressed. I gained weight because I was eating away my feelings and blew up again. COVID-19 arrived with 2020 and I grew even fatter. People who hadn’t seen me for months would go “Oh my God, Tolu, what happened?” as if I had suddenly grown a second head. Even people who hardly knew me thought they had the right to comment on my weight.

    People in public places like markets would call me “biggie” and I hated it so much because it was annoying and dehumanising, and it reduced me to just my weight. I’m also scared of losing weight because of loose skin.

    I’m also expected to take all the comments and not be offended. My mom’s co-worker who I was meeting for the first time made rude comments about my weight and I told her off. She reported me to my mom who made me apologise to her instead of telling the co-worker to mind her business. I was livid. Also, I felt like there is this weird thing where people assume I’m nice, the same way they assume disabled people have to be nice. It’s annoying.

    Kayode

    Being fat, there is an assumption that I have a lot of money in my account. Being fat affects you differently, depending on how you view your situation. Sometimes, people have thrown my weight at me as an insult during arguments. There’ve been so many hurtful nicknames, too plenty to name. I’ve learned to take it on the chin and give them back their doses.

    I don’t expect women to like me because not everyone likes fat men. There have been good and bad experiences. I have a marked weight I’ve disciplined myself not to cross. If I do, I do cardio and diet to bring my weight down.  I’m not very consistent but I hope to change that soon.

    To every other big man out there, being fat is no reason for you to repress your personality just so people can like you. It’s your world; keep those who matter to you and enjoy every minute of it.

    Max

    Being a fat man isn’t so bad. I used to be bullied a lot when I was little but I learned how to dish it back to the bullies so that stopped. People are snide from time to time and children can be rude too.

    It hasn’t been too bad with women. What I don’t have in physique, I make up for with my silver tongue and plus I no ugly at all. Being fat has its advantages. For one, you know that every woman dating you isn’t doing so because you’re “hot”. It’s also disadvantageous because I have to work for everything, romantically. I don’t get to hook up with people because I’m hot.

    David

    I wasn’t always fat, so that kinda offers control for comparison. In my experience as a fat guy in Nigeria, people say and do inappropriate stuff to you like they don’t expect it to hurt. Recently, I visited my former area, and someone who I wasn’t even close to stopped me on the road to tell me I had added so much weight and that my belly is now big. He went on to say I should work on my weight. It was shocking comfortable he was enough to tell me that. 

    People also tell you things they probably wouldn’t tell fat women. I was making out with a friends-with-benefits and she said, out of the blue, that her most recent patients were suffering from diabetes and they were all obese. She probably said it from a place of care but I just know if a man had said that while making out, people would call him a dick. I have thick skin and don’t mind all the attacks but being treated with more sensitivity would be nice.

    People say there’s only one attractive way to be a fat woman but there’s no attractive way to be a fat man. As a fat man, your physical sexual appeal is zero. Almost no one is attracted to you without knowing you deeper and that kinda sucks. Nobody is going to thirst after your picture or just seeing you, but there’s a slim chance of that happening. This means I desexualise myself. I don’t want people reacting with revulsion because they think I’m moving to them. There’s a lot of passive disrespected and being treated as if you don’t exist but you learn to the chest and push it to the background.

    Timi

    The hardest part of being fat was my childhood. I was bullied in secondary school. My relatives also bullied me. I had an aunt who called me Fatima. However, when I entered uni, I started dressing smartly and being fat came with its perks. Because I was bearded, tall and big, people started treating me with respect — women, men and even lecturers. When I’m out with my sister who is 10 years older than I am, people assume I’m her husband.

    Read: 8 Nigerian Men Talk About Dating Non-Nigerians

    [donation]