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  • Okra may be a meal best served as soup to you, but it’s really a vegetable you can do so much more with. I’ve taken the time to help you find 11 okra recipes to get into. 

    Send us pictures when you attempt any of them!

    Okra Ice Cream

    Credit: Brooke Allen, Edible Tulsa

    Y’all are out here eating ice cream and plantain, so don’t act shocked. A 2014 study showed that the okra can help retain the texture of ice cream as it freezes and unfreezes. And although not everyone is trying it out, there are people making it work like this guy.

    Recipe

    • Steal a bowl of ice cream because things are tough on Buhari’s streets. I’d say go with vanilla. 
    • Get to chopping up that okra and mix mix mix.

    Fried okra and pepper

    Photo credit: tsunad, gourmandize

    It’s like eating fried potato and pepper sauce. Once the okra is fried, there’s no sliminess to deal with. And to make it even tastier, put in an egg, mix with corn meal, throw in a dash of pepper and salt, and fry until golden brown.

    Here’s a recipe you can follow from Allrecipes.

    Stir-fry okra with noodles

    Yes, there’s nothing that doesn’t exist under the sun. But I don’t need to say too much about this dish. Buy noodles and follow this Asian recipe I found on Youtube.

    RELATED: 9 Ingredients You Need to Make Yoruba Stew

    Okra stew

    Photo credit: Yumna Jawad

    Like chicken or beef stew, okra stew is an everyday business in Lebanon, and I’m not mad at it. 

    Here’s the recipe

    Okra kimchi

    I can’t forget our K-drama fans on this okra journey. We already showed you how to make cucumber kimchi, so switch things out with okra, and you have a whole new dish.

    Okra and fried eggs

    Photo credit: cookwhenbored, cookpad

    For the fitfam crew. Okra is a vegetable, so paired with onions, scotch bonnets and sausages on the side, you have a breakfast for champions. You’re welcome.

    Okra pie

    Look, hear me out. We’re already finding strange things like macaroni in meat pies, so why not okra? And for the bougie people, what’s the difference between this and shepherd’s pie?

    Here’s how to make it as a shepherd’s pie or meat pie.

    RELATED: I Found the Best Meat Pie in Nigeria, It’s in Jos

    Okra chips

    Photo credit: Lana Stuart, Lana’s cooking

    Plaintain chips, potato chips, okra chips, they’re all chips. 

    Okra oatmeal

    Photo credit: humbleherbivore, feed feed

    Since oatmeal has a slightly slimy feel already, the okra fits right in. If you’re not much of a sweet tooth, or maybe you’re a hardened criminal on the loose, you may find this appealing.

    Okra and plantain pottage

    I’m amazed at the things people think of because, why? But if you’re a plantain lover that needs this in life, here’s a video to jump on.

    Okra pancakes

    Photo credit: Louisiana cookin

    Out of everything I found, this pancake recipe hurt me the most. 

    For getting to the end of this article, I’ll grant you one wish: 

    Which of the okra recipes would you like Zikoko writers to try? Tell me here, and I’ll make it happen.

    Also, read this article to remember your Nigerian roots: 12 Things You Can Add to Okro Soup for a Different Taste

  • Yes yes, you deserve to be in Dubai, shaking your ass in thongs on a yacht. But do you know how to do it all on a budget? No? Well, we’re here for you with an estimate of how much the visa fees, ticket, accommodation and a bit of enjoyment costs for a Dubai trip.

    Photo credit: Sascha Bosshard, Upsplash

    Dennis*, 28

    In May 2022, I travelled to Dubai with a ₦600k budget to take care of hotels and flights, and $1000 (₦425,500) for the nine days of the trip. Ideally, the visa is the first thing to sort out, and it typically costs ₦70k. But due to the Nigerian factor and how much our compatriots have messed up in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), the government put out restrictions on Nigerian male travellers. 

    The policy basically states that travellers under 35 years of age require parental consent before visas are issued. That means you’d have to apply for a visa for you and a parent with a considerable age difference who bears the same surname. But 35-year-old married men are exempted. All you need to do is apply using a marriage certificate. 

    The people who don’t fit into either category, like me, pay ₦185k as visa fees.  That’s more than a 100% increase from what it was in 2020. The visa was issued a week after, and I paid for my flight. Qatar Airways cost ₦336k for a direct flight. 

    I stayed at Studio M Al Barsha Hotel region for nine days. I chose it because it’s more residential, and it’s easier to access food from there. As opposed to more central areas like Bur Dubai or Jumeirah Beach Residence (JBR), it was more affordable. 1300 Dirhams (₦150,597) covered my hotel fees; the additional taxes rounded it up to 1500 Dirhams. 

    RELATED: 5 Things Evey Nigerian Does When They Visit Dubai

    I spent a lot of time at the Dubai Mall shopping for clothes at Zara, American Eagle and Gold Shouk, a more traditional market in Al Dhagaya. Everything rounded up to $1000 (₦425,500), but my biggest splurge was on the gold jewellery for my family and a few friends at Deira market. 

    Deira market is also the place to buy Nigerian food. I got tired of eating biryani ( basically white rice with egg and chicken concoction) and Chinese in the morning, afternoon and night. I think the spot is called Enish. I can’t remember how much I spent, but it was a lot more than what the pounded yam and egusi would be in Nigeria. I’d say it’s worth it though. 

    After draining my pockets on clothes, gold and food. I went into the fun activities; everything from Ski Dubai to the Dhow Cruise, which cost about 300 Dirhams (₦34,753) each. But the thing I’d recommend to try first is visiting Aqua Park and dune bashing in the Safari — they’re so thrilling! The museum of the future is also a good spot for tourists. It felt out of this world being there. So, these activities came down to $1500 – $2000 (₦638,250 – ₦851,000). 

    If there was anything I wish I was more prepared for, beyond the money I spent on shopping alone, it would be speaking English in Dubai. English felt useless over there because most locals didn’t fully understand what I was saying. So it’s either you get a tour guide or speak broken English. For instance, rather than say, “Can you take the four of us to Dubai Mall”, you may want to say, “Dubai Mall, four people, you go?” Just random stuff to ease communication.

    RELATED: “I Moved To Dubai At 19 For Photography” – Abroad Life

    Nneka*, 30

    My whole trip was a little over $2000 (₦851,000). The visa cost ₦75k and that didn’t include the required travel insurance. But to avoid the hassle of getting it myself, I got an agent. The only thing I did was book my flight with Emirates which cost about ₦380k. I think the ticket was more expensive than normal because I bought it a week before my departure date. 

    For my accommodation, I was going on a girls’ trip to celebrate my sister’s birthday, so we really wanted to splurge. We stayed in the central business district. It was a prime area around the Dubai International Financial Centre and compared to locations downtown, the area costs a lot more. But we were splitting three ways, so it wasn’t bad. The room was $120 (₦51,060) per night for each of us, and we were there for eight days. So, if you’re alone and you want to be in the central area, you need to budget at least $300 – $500 (₦127,650 – ₦212,750) per night for the basic luxury rooms. Airbnb is the easiest platform to book a place.

    We had a friend who got us Nigerian food from Deira market. I think I ate more Nigerian food in Dubai than any other type of food. We also visited Enish, a bar that served Nigerian food. But most of my money went into shopping and Uber fares. 

    I got most of the clothes I wanted for my kids from Deira market and did a bit of shopping in Dubai Mall — everything cost about $1000 (₦425,500). For cabs, I was spending between 30 – 100 Dirhams (₦3,475 – ₦11,584) depending on the distance.

    If you’d like to share your travel adventures with Zikoko or want to know the cost of travelling or living in a particular country, click here.

    Also, read this if you’re thinking about moving to Dubai: “Living In Dubai Is Not Expensive If You Stay In Your Lane”- Abroad Life

  • We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

    From: Abolade, a woman wants her soulmate to know how much she’s loved

    To: Ariyike, the ying to Abolade’s yang  

    Dear Ariyike,

    I love you. Listen, I love you so much. I don’t think you understand that I love you so fucking much. You’re a priority. You’re my friend, You’re my sister, you’re my family, you are my soulmate, you’re my person and you’re my bestie for life. You’re the yang to my yang. LMAO. The point is, me and you, you and me, will be together forever!

    I love you for being you: my shy, weird, hilarious and beautiful baby. I love you for loving me. I love you when you’re hilarious. I love you when you act like a goat. I love how much you care for me, always on my ass to study for tests and exams. Always trying to make me feel better when I’m in my depressive state. 

    Tanwa, ìwọ ni ọ̀rẹ́ tí mo ní tí mi ò mò pé mò ń wá . Thank you for making it easy to confide in you. Thank you for being a safe place. Thank you for loving me, consistently validating my existence, gassing me up, and constantly reminding me of what I’m capable of. Thank you for existing.

    RELATED: What Life Is Like When Your Best Friend Is Your Soulmate

    Ọ̀rẹ́ mi, o dùn. You’re the honey to my tea, If I had a star for every time you brightened my day, I’d have a galaxy. You’re the electrician that lights up my day and night. You’re the best track on my album. You’re the most beautiful picture in my photos. The salesman to my copy. LOL, I know I am saying rubbish. The point is, you complete me. There is no me without you. You make me happy, you make me want to live, you make me want to create more memories with you and you make me want to relive the ones we’ve created. 

    I love you so much, and listen, we will make it. So you see those ways you want to flex? Ma worry, soonest.  Ọ̀rẹ́ mi, a máa jayé foreign. Ọlọ́hun gbọ́. Mo love e dákú.

    May our friendship last for as long as we exist,

    Abolade.

    If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why

    ALSO READ: “The Yin to My Yang” — 5 Nigerians on Having Platonic Soulmates

  • You’re better equipped to survive the trenches of adulthood if you’ve been to a Nigerian boarding school. Don’t believe me? Here are seven stories that prove boarding school is a training ground for real life.

    Smuggling food in and out of places

    I went to an all-girls private boarding school in Abuja and it never felt like a private school because of how much I suffered. There are so many lessons to pick from my time there, but the one thing I had to quickly learn was how to sneak food out of our dining hall. I was a very slow eater and the dining master and school prefects never gave us enough time to eat. 

    Ten minutes into the rubbish food they served, they’d start using mop sticks to chase us to class or evening prep. And they never let us take the food out of the dining hall. So I had to be smart and find ways to sneak food out. Sometimes I’d stuff bread in my beret or squeeze it into the pinafore we wore over our shirts as junior students. 

    RELATED: 10 Silliest Nigerian Secondary School Slangs

    But the most embarrassing one I did in JSS1 was sneaking out eba and egusi in my metal cup. I wasn’t in the mood to eat at the time, but I knew I’d be hungry during night prep, so why not? I stuffed the food in my cup, left it by the dining hall window and returned to pick it up an hour later. Yes, the eba was cold, but at least I didn’t sleep hungry. If there’s ever a war, I know exactly how to steal extra rations without getting caught.

    — Ortega, 23

    Turning everything into a business

    Everything in my secondary school was contraband: money, garri, gala, sweets, Nutri-C — even perfume wasn’t allowed. I had to get creative to sneak them in. I’d tear holes in my mattress to hide sweets, roll cash into my detergent container and pay the gateman to keep whatever items I couldn’t get into the hostel. 

    Eventually, I realised I could sell my provisions for up to quadruple the price in JS 2. Since there weren’t a lot of people with access to contrabands and we didn’t have a tuck shop, I made cool cash. I sold one ₦10 stick sweet for ₦50 and ₦50 gala for ₦100. My sales typically went up during Valentine’s Day because everyone was out to impress their crush. That’s how I saved money to pay for baking classes during the school holidays.

    — Faith, 24

    Minding your business is like second nature

    I went to Becky Parker College in Akure. My motto in boarding school was “fight dey fight no dey, always stay guided”. I never wanted to be caught in the middle of an issue that wasn’t my business because it’s not my head people will use to settle their matter. And even if the fight wasn’t my business, I also had to be on guard in case I needed to run or defend myself. That’s something I’ve taken as a life lesson on the streets of Lagos.

    — Ola*, 30

    Being street smart

    I was in a Federal Government boy’s college between 2007 and 2013. My provisions typically finished in two or three weeks because senior students always bullied me for them. I never bothered to ask my parents to get more for me because I knew they struggled to buy everything I needed in the first place. So I was pretty much in survival mode. 

    I had to be resourceful because no one was going to be giving me their provisions to eat. During break time, I’d go to the kitchen to volunteer and help the women cook. And for picking beans or helping them cut ingredients for fried rice, they’d give me an extra plate of food and some fruits. It sounds ridiculous now when I think about it, but I couldn’t depend on the three measly meals we had from school. So that extra food meant the world to me.

    The kitchen staff eventually became my “guys” and helped me survive not having enough money in school. I don’t think I would’ve survived without them.

    — Paul, 29

    RELATED: These Are All the Reasons Secondary School Friendships Are Forever the Best

    Take risks and face the consequences head on

    I went to a conservative Anglican school in Abuja. I’d rather not mention the name, but if you know, you know. Back in 2009, I was a bit of a wildcard. And one of the craziest things I did was jumping the fence of my school to go party with friends in JSS3.

    Until I was caught and expelled in SS2. Normally, we’d come back to school between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. and wait for the hostels to open up at 5 a.m. But that night, there were at least three teachers on stand-by waiting for us. I guess they’d taken a roll call and figured out we weren’t around.

    I didn’t take the situation seriously until my father came to get me the next morning. The man beat shege from my body in the centre of school. But I survived all the drama and eventually got into another school the following year. The experience was scary, but it gave me some level of confidence in myself. I’d do it all over again if I could sha.

    Bathing with cold water becomes a superpower

    My family lived in Nassarawa, but I went to a boarding school in Jos. With all the cold there, there was no hot water to bath. And sometimes, there wasn’t even water at all and we’d have to wait for school to buy jerry cans of water.

    As a junior student, I was saddled with fetching water for my SS2 bunkmate and her friends first. By the time I was done, I’d have to manage whatever water was left. I know it sounds dramatic, but I swear I could use a bowl of water to take my bath back in 2009. Call it “rub and shine” or whatever. As long as the water touched my body, it was a bath.

    — Paul, 28

    Your brain has an in-built alarm system

    I’ll never forget the face of Matron Mac from my boarding school days. That woman would furiously ring the bell for prayers at 5 a.m. sharp and they didn’t born you well not to jump down from bed immediately. The one time I decided to close my eye for a few extra seconds, she designed my body with copper wire.

    After six years of being in the same hostel with her, I instinctively wake up by 5 a.m. every morning to date. Many years later, no matter how tired or hungover I feel, it’s like the trauma from the bells, wire and yelling wakes me up.

    — Biodun, 26

    If you liked this article, read about how these 7 seven Nigerians Talk About Being Bullied in Secondary School.

  • We support your japa plans 100%, but are you mentally prepared to give up Nigerian foods? In this article, nine  Nigerians living abroad confessed how costly it is to get their favourite Nigerian meals abroad.

    Joan, 37

    I moved to Alberta, Canada, 11 years ago. My older siblings thought it would be great to get a master’s degree and work my way into the system. They were right, but no one prepared me for how much things would change, particularly with food. 

    I went from eating fresh fruits literally plucked off my father’s farm trees to eating mushy canned fruits. 

    The fruits that weren’t canned (e.g. mangoes) tasted odd to me. I can’t explain how, but they didn’t taste as fresh as the ones I used to eat back in Nigeria. It was later I learnt some of the fruits here are genetically modified to get bigger. 

    Meye, 40

    I’ve been in Canada for 10 years, and during the dreary winters, all I crave is pounded yam and banga soup littered with bush meat, kpomo and dried fish. Since I left Nigeria, Chinese food has been my staple because it’s the cheapest food option I actually enjoy. 

    I can’t even imagine trying to shop at the African stores in Calgary. And trying to get my siblings to ship foodstuff from Nigeria is so stressful. The ones they sent at the beginning of the year [2022] still haven’t arrived, so, until I’m back in Nigeria, I’ll have to manage Chinese food.

    RELATED: 9 Nigerians Share Their Experience With Foreign Food

    Steven*, 39

    I moved to Rwanda in 2019 to start a pepper business. It’s been the best decision I’ve ever made. But the food? Not so much. I went from having aunties, nieces and a sister who’d cook for me to figuring out how to cook my own meals. The culture is very different — the women I dated in Rwanda weren’t bothered about cooking the typical soups I liked. Once they served me fried potato chips, that was it. No one was stressing.

    To be fair, Rwanda doesn’t have a lot of food options. I’ve gotten used to it though. I eventually started cooking meals for myself and the Rwandan woman I’m currently dating. I still miss having someone whip up a nice plate of banga and starch sha. 

    Elly, 26

    I moved to Boston, Massachusetts five years ago for my undergraduate degree in 2017. Amala and ewedu from Lagos is something I really miss. I hate that I have to make it on my own when I could’ve easily walked into a buka back home. Imagine spending $10–$20 for only ewedu here. Luckily, I still get to beg my mum to send amala flour to me.

    Kamni, 28

    I moved to Dubai in 2017 for my master’s degree. The list of things I miss getting on a regular basis from Nigeria is plenty, but one thing I can fight someone for right now is ipekere and elegede soup. Ipekere is like akara made of corn and fried into shapes like churros — it stays crunchy for days. Elegbede is a native soup from Ondo state. 

    It’s not like I don’t get local food in Dubai. I tend to cook more than I eat out, but foodstuff here is so expensive. Takayama for instance. The last tuber I got cost like 30 or 35 AED. That’s about ₦4,500–₦5,000 for one small skinny tuber. Even ata rodo (habanero pepper) is around ₦10k for 2kg. At this point, I go to the store once a month to get everything I need because even transportation to the store is another wahala.

    Uche, 28

    I moved to Germany for a PhD in 2018. Nothing tastes the same over here. I have to cook a lot of things myself and even then they don’t bang. Maybe it’s because I use an electric cooker and not a gas cooker and I’m tired.

    I just stopped being able to cook Nigerian staples like jollof rice because every time I tried, it was just underwhelming. Now, I pay someone in Berlin ₤60 to deliver jollof rice to Braunschweig which is almost three hours away. 

    But what I miss the most is soups like oha. Getting that in Germany isn’t quite as easy.

    RELATED: 9 Nigerian Meals We Love to Eat but Never Cook Ourselves

    Ovo, 56

    I moved to Cardiff in 2000 as a Chevening scholar. I was married at the time with one kid, but my family couldn’t come along with me. I liked the idea of trying new foods in England, but when it came down to it, nothing felt as satisfying as waking up to pounded yam and egusi back in Nigeria. The English chicken soups, mashed potatoes and nuggets didn’t compare. And as someone who’d never had to cook my own food, the transition was hard.

    The first time my wife and son visited me, I had to beg her to bring soup. I don’t know how I expected that to work, but I was desperate for any kind of Nigerian swallow after six months in Cardiff.

    Peace*, 42

    When I was 30, I got into a master’s program and moved to Scotland., where I’ve lived since 2008. I’m not crazy about Nigerian food, but the one thing I miss is our spices. Pepper soup spice has to be on the top of my list because I still ask my sisters in Nigeria to ship them to me at least once a year. 

    Grace, 29

    Since I moved to Alberta, Canada, four years ago, I haven’t had cereal. Finding good powdered milk has been a struggle for me because the liquid milk here makes me feel bloated. The taste isn’t my favourite thing either. 

    It’s not sustainable to have powdered milk delivered from Nigeria so I don’t bother. Hopefully, I’ll find something I can sustain, but for now, no cereal for me.

    READ ALSO: How to Find Nigerian Food Abroad

  • Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. This is Zikoko’s What She Said.

    This week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is Nanya Alily, a 25-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about working with her family to tell African stories through comic books, becoming more conscious of being Nigerian after moving to South Africa and how it has influenced her art and music. 

    You have so many things going for you at 25. What’s that like?

    I see myself as a multimedia creative. That’s the easiest English term to explain how I’m a music artist, comic book illustrator and social entrepreneur all at the same time. And those are just the three highlights of my life amongst the million other things I do like content creation, commercial modelling and poetry. 

    How did drawing comic books start?

    My family has a passion for drawing, so when I was very young, my parents put that into Vanimax Comix, where we illustrate stories about powerful African characters. My dad, brother, sister and I draw. So everyone except my mum — the mumager overseeing everything.

    So, a family business?

    Yeah, I became a part of it at 16. But my dad had been working on comics before I was born. Macmillan actually published his first comic, Mark of the Cobra, in 1981. My mum was always aware of his talent. So when she saw her kids had the same interest, she nudged my dad to put the company together in 2010.

    Wow

    Yeah. And every character tells a story that reflects who we are as individuals. We have Jack Ebony, a Nigerian super spy (created and illustrated by my Father); Super South Africa, Africa’s finest hero (created and illustrated by my brother); Moonlight (created and illustrated by my sister). 

    That sounds so cool. What’s your story?

    The Amina Angels. They’re four Nigerian female superheroes from different tribes; Ifeoma Anyawu who’s Igbo, Nsse Henshaw from Calabar, Yewande Ajayi who’s Yoruba and Halima Danjuma who’s Hausa. I know there are a lot more tribes, but I was interested in bringing these four together for a start.

    What influenced the creation of these characters?

    My background. Growing up, it didn’t seem cool to be African. I couldn’t relate to some of the characters I watched in cartoons because none of them looked like me. And when I drew, my own characters were always people who didn’t look like me. The consciousness didn’t happen until I was 16.

    What changed?

    We moved to South Africa, and my dad started to share stories about his life with my siblings and me; our Igbo heritage, experiencing the civil war as a young boy — essentially, what it meant to be Nigerian. And I felt disconnected from it because the media I consumed never showed it. Becoming aware of this through my dad made me want to tell those stories. 

    Your dad opening up about his life was really sweet

    It was. Those conversations made me think about the Amina Angels, which I started illustrating at 15. It changed the way I drew features, like the characters’ hair. And the questions I got in high school also piqued my interest in culture. A lot of my classmates asked about my Nigerian language and background. I had few answers, but they could tell me more about what it meant to be Zulu or Xhosa. Thankfully, my Dad shared his stories.

    Since you didn’t entirely understand the culture, how did you tell your stories?

    My family travelled a lot because my dad did. I was born in Lagos. We moved to Ghana and back to Lagos before we settled in Owerri, where both my parents are originally from. At some point, we moved to Benin before finally relocating to South Africa when I was 13. 

    All before 13? That’s pretty cool

    Yeah. Although I spent most of my pre-teen years in Nigeria, travelling made it difficult to learn my culture and be rooted in it. But I don’t regret the experience. I got to see the diversity in Nigeria and Africa, and that’s what inspires my stories. 

    So how did you progress into music?

    That’s the thing. Everything kind of happened simultaneously. I’d been singing since I was six and started rapping in Grade 10. In Nigeria, I’d follow my friends from class to a community music centre, and we’d write and record songs. Then, I got into quality music production when I joined my local church’s choir. That was the trajectory to becoming an independent artist.

    You don’t make music with your family?

    Not exactly. It’s the one thing I do alone, but my family still has some influence. My dad is my biggest fan and invests in my music. 

    When did you release your first song?

    My official releases were in 2018 and 2019. Before then, I only uploaded my songs on Soundcloud. I felt ready to put some money behind marketing Flex (2018) and I Sabi Who I Be (2019) because I wanted people other than my family to enjoy my music. I also wanted to move on from the amateurish phase of being a musician. Now, I’ve just finished recording my first EP, Isimbu, which means “the first one” in Igbo. 

    What’s it like being a Nigerian artist in South Africa?

    I think my music is well received in South Africa because it’s different from what they’re used to. My sound isn’t tagged to any particular group of people. Nobody fixates on it being Nigerian music even with the mix of pidgin or Igbo. It’s just good music.

    So you’re an illustrator and musician, and a social entrepreneur, at 25? What’s going to happen at 50, please?

    LOL. I have no idea. But I started the initiative (The Queen’s Goals) for girls when I was 20. It started out as talking to girls at a local high school in Johannesburg. I didn’t want it to be a one-off thing, so I got my sister, friends and a few women from the church involved, and we’ve kept up with it since 2017. 

    If you had to pick one version of your life to stick to, what would you choose?

    I don’t think I can choose. Discovering new facets of my talent is what makes my life interesting. It feels like there’s no cap. I wake up one day, inspired to put a vision together and I do it. 

    Well, since you can’t pick one, what has been the highlight for you?

    In a creative family, it’s harder to find your voice, so finding my own voice and identity is something I’ve loved, and translating all of that into art and music has been amazing.

    How does it feel to share that with your family practically all the time? 

    We have our collective love for drawing, writing and telling stories. But everyone has their own baby they personally nurture. For me, that’s music. My sister wants to be a model, my brother loves animation and my dad is focused on writing and publishing. My mum is the “let’s go get the bag” woman; she’s a professional motivator and truly inspires us all. 

    LOL. She knows what’s up 

    LOL. And I guess what we have is a blessing. It works well for the business and our personal lives. Everything I get to do is a reflection of my background as a Nigerian Igbo woman. I want other women to see themselves represented in my work.

    If you’d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid, click here to tell me why

  • We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

    From: Odunayo, who misses her crazy cousin

    To: Oyinlola, the fun, waka waka cousin

    Dear Oyinlola,

    A letter I read reminded me of how much I’ve missed us since you travelled. 

    I don’t know what exactly made us so close, but I guess it was my frequent visits to your house during the holidays when I was four years old. I always looked forward to visiting you because you had a larger family than mine. Then you started coming to my house with your siblings and we found that we had so many things in common — fashion sense, straight-talking attitude and all.

    We became inseparable. Even when you gained admission into the university in 2013, I was always waiting for you to come home so we could hang out. There was no one I’d rather gossip with about family, talk about relationships and the kind of woman I wanted to grow into. 

    And when I got into university in 2018, I made sure you were the first person I came home to see, except you were away. I miss those random visits to see other family members, the late nights and waka waka, like on my birthday. We left Ikorodu for Lekki at night, got there very late, ate pizza, and walked around like our dad owned the land despite the insecurity in this country. But I wasn’t bothered. When we were together, we felt so safe and unbothered.

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    I definitely miss our craziness. Remember when I was 18 and we visited our other cousin’s place and begged him to get us alcohol? You were 21 and old enough to drink, but we’d always fantasised about getting drunk together. And as expected, after drinking, we acted like goofballs, slept off and woke up at intervals whenever one of our phones rang because we had the same ringtone. 

    Then there was that guy spilling rubbish because we refused to talk to him on the road. Of course, we insulted him. What about the days we spent at Ilorin during your service year? I’d just gotten into uni and you were always proud to introduce me to everyone as your baby sister. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: My Cousin Grew Up

    I miss you so much, Oyin. There’s nobody to call me saying,  “Odunayo, where are you? Come na, let’s have a nice time.” Nobody to drag me out of the house and tell me that I’m too serious with life. I can’t even go to the island for the Sallah holiday because you’re not there. Who will I talk to or record funny Snapchat videos with?

    I’m just glad we could utilise every moment we’ve spent together since we were kids. Now that you’re in a completely different country, I can hold onto those crazy memories. There was no dull moment with you. And you’re one of the best people I’ve had in my life.

    Also, thanks for the urgent ₦2k you used to send whenever sapa choked me in school.

    Missing you,

    Odunayo

    If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why

    ALSO READ: 12 Things to Expect When Your Cousin From Abroad Visits

  • The sixth season of Big Brother Naija (BBNaija) is upon us,  launching on Saturday, 24th of July and while we anticipate the drama and back-to-back slay from Ebuka Obi-Uchendu, what are some of the things BBNaija stans want to see on this year’s show?

    Fewer fights over food

    If war doesn’t break out over how someone decides to cook or certain people getting special treatment, then have we really started the show? But let’s get a little fewer fights over food this year, please? Because I didn’t renew my subscription to be watching grown-ass adults fight over semo.

    No more by-force ships

    Nigerians will say love is a scam. But you’ll have BBNaija housemates declaring their undying love to someone they didn’t know from Adam just two weeks ago. Loving up can be a strategy, but at least give us some Teddy A and BamBam.  That’s the vibe we’re here for. Not tiring situationships leading nowhere.

    Lit Saturday night parties

    If you’re not a BBNaija fan anticipating the Saturday night groove, please leave this place. What I really don’t want is a repeat of that tiny space used in the show last year. There was barely any room to bust moves. Biggie, please give us space to komole.

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    More intense games

    I love how biggie gets the housemates to showcase their culture through presentations and drama. But we want even more. Like I want the fight-to-the-finish, Game-of-Thrones ginger for that grand prize. And a lot more at stake when teams lose.

    Juicier diary sessions

    Big brother needs to be planting more seeds of destruction for us to watch. No more “how are you” sessions. We want the vawulence! Ask questions that will lead to a reunion that tops the drama we watched on the Real Housewives of Lagos.

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    Zooming in the camera at night

    I don’t want to be debating with anyone on what happened the night before. If anything is going on at night, we need whoever is controlling the cameras to zoom into things with immediate effect. Don’t keep us guessing..

    Married men and women

    There’s something super exciting about watching who’ll crack under pressure and deny their partner. And that’s the kind of drama I need to see.

    More mind games

    Biggie needs to have me shook this season. Maybe decoy housemates? Fake evictions or a reveal (finally!) of Biggie? Honestly, I just want to know I’m not wasting my DSTV and Showmax subscription at this point.

    ALSO READ: You Don’t Watch Big Brother? You Can Definitely Relate To This

  • When you get into a new relationship with a plus-size person, there’ll be a whole phase of them feeling uncomfortable with you. But don’t get upset. As a plus-size woman, I can tell you they’re just unlearning the bad habit of wondering if you really find them beautiful — and to what extent.

    Here are nine thoughtful ways to help your plus-size partner feel more comfortable.

    Love them as they are

    Please, don’t date someone with the expectation of changing them. Let them be. Don’t give snarky comments about their eating habits or what you think they need to do to look fit. Take them the way they are or not at all.

    When you’re planning a date, pick a location that isn’t crowded

    Crowded places make it easy for your partner to overthink how they look. Of course, taking them out of their comfort zone once in a while isn’t a bad thing, but in the beginning, try to keep it simple. Pick restaurants with outdoor and indoor spaces. It’s a lot less choked up and gives your plus-size partner more options.

    RELATED: How to Be a Plus-Size Girl in Nigeria — According to Muna Ikejiaku

    Always let them pick where to sit on dates

    I love sitting in corners and I don’t like to be in the centre of a room because I feel everyone’s staring at me. And that makes me anxious. If there’s no corner seat, I still want to be the one to pick a spot because I’ll choose a place that makes me feel like it’s just my partner and me at that moment. And that’s the whole point of the date, right? 

    Don’t dump them with your friends when you hang out together 

    When you’re out for a party or introducing them to people, don’t disappear into the crowd. Stick around and ease them into your social circle, especially if they’re not social butterflies.

    If they sweat a lot, don’t ask why they’re always sweaty

    Your plus-size partner will likely sweat when they’re moving from an air-conditioned car into a hot room, or if they’re nervous. And they already know they’re sweaty, so don’t ask. Just carry a handkerchief around if you want to be helpful. 

    RELATED: I’m Treating My Body Like It’s My Own

    Don’t force them  to tell you their dress sizes

    There are a lot of things to consider with clothes. First of which is that it’s already difficult to find plus-size clothing in stores. Also, a size 16 in one store can be a size 14 in another. The worst thing is getting an outfit that ends up not fitting. So my advice? Observe where they shop and how they shop first. Or ask a close friend who knows what they like and make your move.

    Feed them

    Create a safe space for your partner when it comes to food.  There’s nothing quite as intimate as an indoor date where you cook for them or order your favourite meals. It lets your partner know their cravings are valid.

    Always compliment them

    Never miss telling them how beautiful they are. Say it when you’re alone, around friends, everywhere. Be the cute partner that makes sure your partner knows how much you love them. 

    Ease into being physically intimate with them

    They’ll always overthink if they should get on top of you, let you carry them or touch certain parts of their bodies. It takes time to trust that someone loves every part of your body. So if they resist, rather than getting upset, re-affirm that you love them wholly.

    ALSO READ: 5 Nigerian Men Talk About Being Fat In Nigeria

  • Is love really enough or is it all about money? How do you receive either when you had a broken childhood? These are the questions *Kate answered as she shared her story about loving an unfaithful partner she hoped would live up to her expectations of money. But when she finally decided to leave, Kate confronted the reality that a rich lover may not be the key to her happiness.

    Here’s Kate’s story as told to Ortega

    I was so sure I’d leave the moment I found out he cheated. Plagued by the cruel stories my aunties told me about what my mother experienced at the hands of an unfaithful and abusive man, I was sure I’d pack my bags. But there I was, convinced I could “fix things”.

    It all started four months after he’d lost his dad in 2014. I was 18, so I didn’t have the balls to convince my Nigerian mother I needed to travel to my lover’s hometown. I tried to be there for him, but when you’re in different cities, it’s hard to love a grieving partner. I was convinced I was doing a good job though. On the days he couldn’t bear to talk on the phone, I made sure I left a text. I was stuck at home until school resumed. But I tried to push past the distance.

    RELATED: 7 Romantic Ideas For People In Long-Distance Relationships

    When I returned to school, I wanted to give my all to make sure he was okay. Being in the same faculty made it easier. We went to lunch every day, and we walked back home together almost every day. Heck, I was doing assignments for him when I had the chance. But little did I know that grief led him back to his ex during his father’s burial.

    And the worst part? I found out just like the cliché tales you’ve probably heard — the paranoid girlfriend snooping through her boyfriend’s phone. Only this time, I wasn’t “paranoid”. It was completely random. I can’t explain what happened, but I felt the urge to search for his ex-girlfriend’s name on WhatsApp. For the first time in nine months of dating, I questioned his trust. And I found exactly what would break my heart.

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    What came after was, of course, a series of apologies. But while my head was telling me to gather my pride and move on, my heart was fixated on the fact that I’d given nine months of myself, investing in the potential of this guy who could build a financially secure future for the both of us — like I also intended to do l. And although we were just in our third year of school, I believed I was supposed to build the man I wanted. A man who was very different from my father.

    He was kind and sweet, and he also had an idea of what it meant to own a business. I was hoping that the ideas would flourish as time went by. But then, he just seemed to have an idea every other month without any solid plan as to how he’d make a profit. When he made money, he gave it out at the slightest inconvenience any of his friends had. It’s either they needed money for food or to fix a phone. And while that was something I adored, it was something I’d seen my father do too often. To my father, every other person’s needs were always more important than mine.

    But I felt obligated to stay. I wanted to help him think through business plans, manage the earnings from sales and find freelance jobs on the side — I felt it was my job to fix everything.

    I believed I needed to go through a phase of financial struggle with him to truly earn his love. I’d seen it in the movies I watched and heard friends talk about the suffering they went through to get to a point of enjoyment with their lovers. Plus, he was the first person I’d ever opened up to about my family and he was there for me whenever I needed to talk. I felt the least I could do was be with him.

    I also didn’t understand that becoming rich as a couple wasn’t equivalent to how long we’d financially struggled together. And I believed karma would catch up with me for wanting anything materialistic out of love. So I stayed.

    We were together for another six months and to the best of my knowledge, he was faithful during that period. But everything in the relationship became utterly irritating. The lack of spontaneity dimmed my ability to really enjoy the relationship.

    RELATED: The 9 Things We Don’t Like About Being in Relationships

    At first, I thought it was some kind of residual anger from finding out about the steamy make-out sessions with his ex. But then I kissed someone else and told him about it, and we were still both inclined to fight for our relationship. Maybe it was love? Or fear? I summed it up to the lack of passion and his inability to take charge of planning out any of our activities.

    While my friends were going out on cute dates, I spent the entire relationship splitting bills. I love the “Independent woman” title, and I had money from side jobs to take us out. But it gets old when you expect your broke lover to step up after betraying your trust. The apologies and sweet texts were cute, but I wanted a lot more. I mean, imagine two years of dating and not a single dinner date? Not even for our anniversary.

    At some point, I voiced my concerns, but then, I became an “inconsiderate” lover. Still, I was too scared to call it quits because I didn’t want to lose out on when his potential really came through. I didn’t want to end up with regrets about what could’ve been. So I waited.

    Another year went by, and he started to earn money to buy gifts and take us to places, but everything was repetitive. Call me insatiable if you will. But after almost two years together, I expected my lover to know me like the back of his palm. Because I knew him that well. Why didn’t he know I hated getting slippers as a gift because of my enormous duck-shaped feet? Why didn’t he know the place that served my favourite type of fish? Why did I have to repeat how bored I’d grown of having dates at the cinema? The relationship was a boring cycle.

    RELATED: 11 Annoying Things People in Relationships Can Relate With

    I truly believed he loved me. But after university, love wasn’t cutting it anymore. So I decided it was time to break up right before I had to go for my NYSC in 2018. Finding out he was still casually talking to his ex also triggered my decision. He admitted he only kept this from me out of fear, but I was done.

    I couldn’t see myself dating anybody’s son who’s just starting out in life. I wanted someone who had life a lot more figured out financially. But when I got into another relationship the following year, it was hard. He had the money to sort out a lot more things, but I didn’t know how to accept his acts of kindness. To me, I had to go through some kind of suffering with him to really be entitled to the money. I was so sure true love only came from trying to fix each other. So, we fought a lot.

    Since money wasn’t his problem, I wanted to amplify his faults. If he blinked the wrong way, I was going to blow it out of proportion. If we weren’t arguing over the most irrelevant issues, I was making a fuss about him buying me things. But when I complained about something, he’d fix it. If I was too sick, he’d take time off to take care of me. When you spend the better part of your childhood in a broken home, how do you receive love without being suspicious? Especially when it’s the one thing you’ve craved all your life.

    It’s been nine months since my new relationship started in 2019. And it’s the first relationship in which I’m trying to experience love without feeling like I need to work for it. Like, I don’t need to do anything to receive from my partner. All I saw my mum do was give to my dad. Yet, there was never a moment he doted on her. I imagined it needed to be the same for me.

    As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen that there’s much more to love than what I saw growing up, t. That there’s no karma for choosing to leave or stay with a partner who’s still building their life. If it feels right to walk away, I will. And while I’m growing to believe in love, I’m also starting to take as much as I’m willing to give because I deserve it.

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