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  • 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: Tumininu, a woman missing her larger-than-life friend

    To: Toluwalopemi, her friend in Amrika

    Dear Tolu,

    I wanted you to read this before you travelled, but you got to read it way earlier than planned. I loved how much you love this letter. Regardless, I’d like everyone else to read this too. 

    When we met for the first time in Unilag, I remember my first impression of you was, “Oh damn, she looks like DJ Cuppy.” Some of our mates said it was your braids, but everyone eventually saw the resemblance. 

    I can’t really paint a clear picture of you prior to when you became my sister, but I do remember you liked complimenting my breasts a lot. Yeah, you’re just weird like that. It was such a strange thing at first. But when I saw you gave random compliments like that to other people, I stopped feeling awkward. Part of my discomfort with it came from never really being able to take praise.

    You became friends with my friends, and somehow, life dumped us in the same disgusting hostel the next year. 

    RELATED: Four Months of Living Together and Hopefully We Don’t Kill Each Other

    I know a lot of people tell you this, but you really are larger than life, Tolu. Before you, I never talked much. I was always in this invisible shell, but you came and literally dragged me out of that shell. I started laughing more. I danced more. I have videos of our silly dances, bless Nofi’s soul for being there to capture the moments. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of our goofiness and utter foolishness.

    I was really sad when you told me you had to travel this year (2022). I felt special about being the first out of our friends to know, but it hurt to know you’d be so far away. I miss hugging you, going to eat shawarma down the road with you. I miss walking with you, and I’ll miss going to Shop 10 together when school resumes. 

    RELATED: I Didn’t Know How to Say ‘I Love You’ Until I Met You — Adesegun and Demi

    I’ll miss your presence in our room. When we became close, I was going through a rough time but spending time with you made me feel better and happier. I’ll also miss your food. Please, how will I be eating in school? How am I going to tell Mummy Aliya that Dj Cuppy has left me to go to Amrika and won’t be washing plates with her anymore? 

    I loved talking to you until the plane took off. I really don’t know what the rest of uni would be like without you, and I’m not ready to process that. But I wish you the very best as you start a new life. At least, you get to be with your best friend in America and eat oyinbo food. 

    Thank you for giving me one of the best times of my life and being my sister. 

    This isn’t goodbye. 

    ❤️,

    Tumi

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

    READ ALSO: Maybe You Should Cut Your Bad Friends Some Slack? Here’s Why

  • We’re clear on the fact that women deserve enjoyment. But on the days their uterus decides to torture them, it needs to be top-notch. So we decided to ask the badass Gen Z and gorgeous gorgeous millennial girls what they need in a period care box. Here are nine items they agreed are a must for them.

    Sanitary pads and tampons

    Let’s not even get into how expensive it is to involuntarily bleed every month. So if you’ve not loaded the box with sanitary pads and/or tampons, then you obviously haven’t started.

    Scented candles

    There’s something about citrus or floral-scented candles burning to calm your nerves. But if you’re planning to surprise a woman who’s not into feminine scents, go for a sweet and spicy mix like vanilla and lemon, or more woody notes like cedar. 

    And if she’s not into strong smells, go with earthy scents because they’re mild.

    Juice 

    There should be absolutely no soda in the box. Tiger nut juice with dates as a natural sweetener is something to try. But orange juice is the safest bet if you’re in doubt.

    Why We Think 2 Face Idibia's Amaka Is A National Hit

    RELATED: I Tried Out Every Type of Menstrual Product

    Heating pads

    Hot water bottles are great, but heating pads can also be thrown into the fridge if she needs something cold. Either way, this is a must.

    Tea 

    It’s hard to fall asleep when your uterus is trying to kill you. Chamomile or herbal tea helps with sleep and that’s one thing women need on their period, sleep. 

    Pain killers

    We have to fight our bodies back because it’s not us that monthly cramps will kill. And you can never go wrong with panadol. 

    RELATED: 5 Nigerian Women Share Period Pain Stories

    Her favourite snacks

    Always add in something sweet like chocolate or cookies and a savoury snack like pringles or nuts to balance things out. And if you’re feeling extra nice, add in a voucher for her favourite spot to binge eat. 

    Bath bombs/Gel

    The first thing every woman dreams of after seven long days of bleeding is getting her vagina back. And her first stop to achieve that is a long-ass bath. So include something for a nice bubble bath, but since we’re in Nigeria, a nice shower gel may be better.

    A spa day

    There’s nothing like having someone massage your lower back and belly when you have cramps. And an all-expense-paid pamper day when you’re finally out of the trenches. 

    ALSO READ: 7 Reasons Spa Visits In Lagos Are A Waste Of Money

  • Why pay for culinary school when these seven cooking shows in and out of Nigeria exist? If you happen to binge any of them, please consider yourself Chef Fregz’s colleague. 

    Iron Chef

    Iron Chef showcases underdogs trying to outdo world-renowned chefs to win the title of “Iron Legend”. My favourite line at the beginning of each episode is, “Allez cuisine.” I still have no idea what it means, but I feel like a trained French chef from Le Cordon Bleu every time I hear those words. Oui Oui. 

    Chopped

    The vibe Chopped gives me after each episode is that I’m Chef Fregz’s senior colleague, and I have a right to scruitinise every food he makes. A selling point of this show is that you never know what you’re going to get in a mystery basket. You can get octopus legs, chocolate and okra and you have to make it work. 

    RELATED: A Chef, a  Meal and  a Plot Twist

    Million Pound Menu

    Million Pound Menu will make you think you’re ready to start a restaurant and become the next Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC). Because watching a million-pound mea being preparedl is getting a masterclass on business for free. 

    Between watching how the investors pick food concepts they’re willing to sponsor and deciding what foods fit restaurant standards, what else do you need to know to run your own world-class food business?

    MasterChef

    This is one of the classics for anyone obsessed with cooking shows. And picking up the MasterChef title puts you at the top of the food chain in the food industry. So tell me why I can’t be employed as a chef after watching 12 seasons of this show. That’s at least a year’s worth of the time I’d spend in culinary school. Where’s my certificate please?

    My Naija Plate

    There aren’t a lot of Nigerian cooking shows off Youtube to binge, but My Naija Plate a new addition to Honey TV I’m oddly obsessed with. Now, you’re not going to learn how to cook the perfect  filet mignion. But Chef Winnie Nwania (popularly known as Zeelicious) shows us that there’s more to life than the rice you eat three times a week. Let Sunday rice rest.

    RELATED: 7 Meals You Can Eat on Sunday Instead of Rice

    Off the Menu

    Off the Menu used to be one of my favourite pass times in 2021. They still had the basics like stew and egusi on a few episodes. But the selling point for the show was watching Nigerian celebrities throw it down in the kitchen. There was range — one minute I could be learning how to make yam and beans from Tu Face and the next minute, it’s potato dauphinoise from Toni Tones.

    Martha Stewart’s Cooking School

    Watching Martha Stewart’s Cooking School is like watching your grandma teach you how to cook. Of course, you can’t readily find all the ingredients Martha talks about, in Nigeria. But you can pretend to know everything it takes to make a pumpkin pie from the comfort of your bed. And that’s the energy we’re going for.

    Enjoyed this listicle, you might like this too: Aspiring Nigerian Chefs, Do You Really Need All These Spices?

  • 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 a 24-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about feeling uncomfortable in her body at 16, getting a breast reduction and what makes her feel attractive as a woman.

    I guess we’ll start with puberty. What was that like?

    As a child, I didn’t exactly like the idea of becoming a “woman”. And starting out earlier than my mates made me feel uncomfortable with my body. I was 9 and just getting into JS1 when I had my first period. Other girls in my class weren’t going through the stress of wearing a sanitary pad or getting stained, at that time. 

    What was the biggest change for you?

    My breasts getting bigger. They made me feel uncomfortable for a long time. 

    Oh, why?

    First of all, they got huge very quickly. I was already one of the youngest in my set, and then, I started wearing a bra in JS2. I can’t remember the cup size I started out with. But while I was dealing with that, everyone else was putting on bra tops or sports bras.  

    At some point, I started wearing a bra top and singlet over my bra to make my boobs a little less obvious.

    Was there any incident that made you so conscious about your body in secondary school?

    No. My secondary school was just for girls. So at that point, I mostly disliked how big it made me look. When people were getting uniforms, I couldn’t get a proper size. They’d either fit my boobs and be too big for the rest of my body or the other way around.

    Omo

    Exactly. So by 13 or 14, I was a size 14 because of my breasts. 

    Did you tell anyone at home how you felt? Or banter with friends who were probably going through the same thing?

    At school, I stuck to making them as less obvious as possible. If the clothes weren’t baggy, then I’d put on as many things to flatten them. Being the kind of girl who wasn’t exactly girly made people think I was trying to be a tomboy. You could’ve called me a “bloke” in secondary school. But it wasn’t intentional. 

    Feeling awkward with my body made me want to hide all the parts that were meant to suddenly make me a woman. I preferred being just a girl. I didn’t want such humongous boobs.

    No one ever asked why you were wearing a bra, then a bra top and singlet?

    No one really cared about that in school. And I don’t think anyone at home ever knew. My older sister was away at school whenever I was home. And my younger sister definitely didn’t understand what was going on with me at the time, so no. Plus, I was the sibling who preferred to be alone. They would’ve never guessed how much I was struggling with loving my body.

    My mum was the person I opened up to about everything. Whenever I got the chance, I complained to her. And in uni, I started having chest pains. I think I’d fully settled into a D cup by this time. Imagine my mates wearing a B cup and I was almost double their size but one of the youngest in my class. Just think of the load.

    I’m curious. What was uni like for you? Because everyone had caught up with puberty by then, right?

    Things felt the most awkward after secondary school which was an all-girls school. It was the first time I mixed with a lot more boys. I’d lived in an estate and had a couple of friends. But when I got into Babcock University, it was completely different from what I was used to. I felt the boys were attracted to me because of my boobs. 

    Why did you think that?

    I’m very direct, so I asked one of the guys who wouldn’t leave me alone, why he was so attracted to me. And he plainly said, “Your breasts”. I didn’t think it was different from the rest.

    How did things progress?

    My mum saw how uncomfortable things were getting in my first year of uni. I was 16 at the time and still struggled with chest pains. She eventually asked if I wanted to have them reduced. But not through the typical methods.

    Did you fully understand what that meant at 16?

    I didn’t really understand how a breast reduction would happen. I was just happy at the possibility of getting the load off my chest. She mentioned her sister had done the same thing too. 

    Why didn’t this come up earlier?

    She felt I couldn’t cope with the pain from the process. 

    And your aunt, had you ever spoken to her since she went through the same issues?

    Nah. I’d never even heard that her boobs were big. We weren’t close. And it wasn’t the type of thing I wanted to talk about with anyone other than my mum.

    Fair enough. So you decided to go for the procedure?

    Yes. We had to travel from Abuja to Ayama-Ebeni in Bayelsa state. It was my mother’s village, where her sister had done her breast reduction, but I’d never been there in my life. Meeting her whole family and seeing how she grew up was a new experience for me too. 

    Any expectations?

    I imagined it would be more like a village, with scanty houses and untarred roads. But Ayama-Ebeni was filled with huge houses. When we arrived, my aunt called the woman and asked her to come the next day to carry out the procedure. It was a traditional thing, so the whole thing happened in my room. 

    She was an elderly woman who’d been helping women in the village for years. No one knew exactly where she’d learnt the practice from. It was just something everyone in my family knew her for. 

    Oh, interesting

    Yeah. My mum and aunt were comfortable with it, so I didn’t feel nervous. Think of those people who are called rainmakers in the East. No one knows how they do it, but when you have an important event, you pay them to pray and hold the rain for you. It’s just a long-standing tradition. There was no need to ask many questions. My only concern was for whatever she did to work.

    So what did she actually do? 

    The first thing she asked was what she should draw on it. And that’s because the process leaves a black mark, almost like a tattoo. I asked for some kind of flower design at first.

    And then?

    I couldn’t handle the pain. She tied seven needles together with a thread and dipped them into a black concoction my mother later told me was blended leaves. But that was the least of my concern with the pain I felt during the process. 

    The concoction shrinks the breasts, but she had to cut me to get it in. So the woman pricked the upper part of my breasts with the needles she’d dipped in the concoction, similar to how tattoos are applied. But imagine the pain a million times more with no anaesthetics. 

    Omo

    I had to tell her to forget the flower and draw two lines. 

    LOL

    It was too painful. 

    But it worked, right?

    Hm. At first, my breasts were twice the size. I remember crying to my aunty about it. But she asked me to give it a few weeks. In three weeks, the mark began to peel off like when a tattoo is healing. The swelling eventually reduced and so did my breasts. I went down from a size 14 to 12. 

    But three years later, I started to gain weight all over again and they got bigger. My periods were also irregular.

    Ah 

    LOL. Yeah. I found out I had PCOS in 2020. 

    What did that change for you?

    I did my research after the diagnosis from my gynaecologist and realised it happened to a lot of women. There was nothing I could do about it. And it dawned on me that puberty never really ends. Your body just unlocks new levels at every stage.

    We started the conversation with you feeling awkward about those changes. How do you feel now?

    I’ve learnt to appreciate myself a lot more. The attention I get from men and women these days is what I find interesting. My insecurities kick in once in a while, but I’ve realised that my body, as a woman, is attractive. And I love how I feel about that.

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

  • Nothing beats the fantasy of living alone and on your own terms. But how prepared are you for the cost of actually owning a home? If you plan on moving out soon, this article is for you. 

    Here’s what 8 Nigerian millennials spent on furnishing their homes. Note: curtains are the worst.

    Location: Shangisha Magodo, Lagos

    Total cost: ₦2 million

    Before I moved into my apartment in 2019, I lived in my family house. I was 27 and my relationship had gotten to a point where I needed full privacy. Since it was just my cousins, siblings and me, we had to take care of everything we needed in the house. So I knew how expensive things could get to furnish a home. I knew exactly what I wanted.

    A two-bedroom apartment was my target. Aesthetics were very important to me too, and plants were at the top of the decor list. My babe and I love plants, so I was going for at least seven to ten in our apartment. By the time I had the basics like paintings, curtains and setting up furniture — including a standard workstation because my job was a hybrid set-up — I had spent ₦2 million.

    I can’t remember the cost of each item, but the most expensive things were within the ₦200k – ₦350k mark each. I’m still asking myself where I got the money from.

    Here’s a breakdown, excluding miscellaneous costs:

    — Femi*, 30

    Location: Jabi, Abuja

    Total cost: ₦100k

    I moved into my first Nigerian apartment in 2020. Before then, I’d lived in the UK for a year doing my master’s, and my apartment came with furniture and basic living room and kitchen items. Compared to moving to Abuja on my own, that was heaven.

    My style is minimalist and clean. But with the ₦250k salary I was earning, even the furniture I wanted was too expensive. The average price range was ₦145k for a single-seater, ₦365k for a two-seater and ₦385k for a three-seater sofa. Those prices were ridiculous to me. I was also sceptical about using roadside carpenters who were even charging like ₦200k plus for a regular bed. Why?

    RELATED: How Nigeria’s Housing Problem Is Affecting Nigerians

    So I moved into the apartment with no furniture. For the time being, I’ve made a makeshift bed that cost me ₦20k while I save up. The thing I’ve sorted out, for now, are the curtains. They cost me ₦80k plus installations for four windows. And it’s not that the material was expensive. The thicker and more costly materials were going for ₦120k – ₦150k. That will be for another time. 

    — Lydia*, 26

    Location: Avontrou, Benin Republic

    Total cost: ₦30k

    I go to school in Benin Republic. February last year, I decided to get an apartment mostly out of frustration from living in the hostels. I live in Avontrou and my place costs ₦30,500 weekly. That’s about the most reasonable price for a good quality apartment here. But there are student-friendly prices, around ₦10k – ₦15k weekly.

    As for furnishing, my parents gifted me all my furniture except a mattress which cost ₦30k — someone needs to explain why beds are so expensive. Then, I stole curtains from my dad’s office. I’m not interested in any more expenses until I’m done with school.

    — Michelle*, 21

    Location: Gbagada, Lagos

    Total cost: ₦180k

    I moved into my first apartment in 2019. I was earning about ₦125k monthly at the time, so my budget was obviously low. I needed a place that wasn’t expensive and too far from my office at Gbagada. When I finally got one, the rent was ₦350k per year. I also paid the ₦60k agency and agreement fees and ₦30k caution fee. 

    I had to renovate it to make it liveable, but I didn’t consider aesthetics at all. I didn’t have money for that. The major thing I did was install metal burglaries over the door and windows. That cost ₦100k. Then, I painted the house and changed the tiles in my bathroom for ₦80k. 

    RELATED: Home Is a Shapeshifting Concept

    The apartment was convenient until earlier this year (2022) when I decided I could get a much better place. My monthly earnings have increased to an average of ₦380k, but you can’t get a decent one-room apartment on the Island for ₦800k right now except if you go as far as Sangotedo.

    I’d love to have a nice aesthetic in my new home. But the cost of rent alone is scary. The logical option is to furnish in phases.

    — Jane*, 27

    Location: Anambra

    Total Cost: ₦40k 

    Before I moved into my one-bedroom flat in November 2020, I lived in a self-contained that cost ₦75k yearly. This was during my master’s degree program at a faculty under Nnamdi Azikiwe University in Agulo village, Anambra. After school, I decided to move to a more urban area, Awka. 

    I got a job as a public health worker, but the bulk of my money came from sewing and selling yoghurt. I was making about ₦100k by 2018. That’s how I raised enough to move to Awka. My new apartment costs ₦250k yearly, so when I moved in, furnishing was not at the top of my list because I’d spent the majority of my money on rent. 

    RELATED: Adulting: 5 Nigerians on Things They Find Expensive as Adults

    For now, my aesthetics are sapa-inspired. For the first four months, the sunlight woke me up every morning because I didn’t have curtains. The sellers were charging ₦80k each. I couldn’t afford it so I went for blinds, which still cost ₦40k each.

    I’m at the point where I have to hit my fan before it comes on, and I can’t afford to buy air conditioners because my finances have dwindled over the years. I stopped sewing too; slouching all day gave me back pain. I’m focused on getting a job that’ll pay me enough. When I get one, all the sapa-inspired aesthetics will end.

    — Bridget*, 30

    Location: Mombasa, Kenya

    Total Cost: ₦901k

    I moved out of my parents’ house in 2021, and I got an apartment in Port Harcourt. Compared to Lagos, prices were reasonable there. But curtains were bloody expensive. One cost ₦60k. Why, please? By the end of the year, I had to move to Mombasa, Kenya for school. 

    Things there were six times the cost I’d spent trying to furnish in Port Harcourt. So I focused on the most essential things. First, I got an orthopaedic bed that cost 29k shillings (approx. ₦162k). I carried my PS4 from Nigeria and got a TV for 77k shillings (approx. ₦430k). Then, I got four blinds for 18k shillings (approx. ₦110k). Finally, I got my air conditioner for 35,500 shillings (₦199k). Omo, I haven’t actually sat down to look at the cost of things. I’m sure there were more, but these were the most pricey.

    — Richard*, 21

    Location: Portsmouth, United Kingdom (UK)

    Total cost: ₦765k-₦1m

    When I moved to the UK in 2017, I opted for a shared apartment because the rent was expensive. And my share cost £350 (approx. ₦179k). The apartment came furnished with some janky couches, chairs and beds. But one time, my roommate sat on the couch and it broke. They were clearly not made for black boys.

    Buying something brand new in the UK was out of the question. I’m talking £400+ (₦204k+) for a single couch! We had to tell the landlord to get us another one instead. He brought a black leather couch that had coins and stuff from God knows where. So he definitely either gave us his own couch or bought it off Facebook Marketplace. 

    RELATED: These Ridiculous Rules Prove That Nigerian Landlords Are From Hell 

    My bed was also destroying my back after a year. So I had to tell the landlord to change that too. A new bed cost about £300 (approx. ₦153k). If I had to replace it on my own, I’d have just slept on the floor like my ancestors. 

    So in the UK, you don’t furnish except you want to be extra. Most of the cost goes into rent, which can be between £750 – £800 (approx. ₦383k – ₦408k), and utilities like electricity, heat and WI-FI. If I get something, it’s a thrift piece. Like my TV that cost £120 (approx. ₦61k). Other costs of living come in too. The other day, the microwave broke down. That was £40 (approx. ₦20k) gone to fix it. 

    RELATED: 18 Things That Are Too Real for Any Nigerian Who Has Ever Gone House Hunting

    Also, the UK is set up in a way that you always need to split the bill. The cost of living is high. Right now, I’m looking for a new place to live because my landlord wants to sell the house. I’m also getting married so I need my own space. That’s a nice £150 – £200 (approx. ₦77k – ₦102k) on kitchen utensils alone. Full furnishing would likely be £1,500 or £2,000 (approx. ₦765k-₦1m).

    — Ben*, 27

    Location: Gbagada, Lagos

    Total cost: ₦750k 

    I moved out of my mother’s house when I finished university in 2019. I was going for a minimalistic vibe because I really didn’t have the money to do anything grand. My modelling career was just kicking off. But I also didn’t want clutter in my space because it was a small one-bedroom apartment. 

    I didn’t have enough money to fully furnish until 2020. I got a bulk amount and took out ₦500k to re-do my home. First, I got furniture. I was going for something that wouldn’t encourage people to stay in my house for too long. So the chair didn’t have any arm or backrest. But it cost ₦50k because of the pink suede material. 

    RELATED: Read This if You Want To Hack House Hunting in Lagos

    I bought a fake plant that was way more expensive than a real plant at ₦25k. But a real one would’ve died; there was no need to spend money on it. The truth is, forming minimalist was way more expensive. Things like painting my living room satin white cost more than ₦50k. Way more expensive than painting my room (which is way bigger) purple. Painting and screeding the whole house cost 100k. 

    Oh, and my vanity mirror cost ₦40k to make, excluding the chair and table. I racked up ₦500k on my floating shelves, LED lights for Youtube and new cupboard doors. Then, curtains! I can’t remember how much they cost, but it was ridiculous — I was better off with window blinds. If we’re adding my inverter, it cost ₦250k.

    I actually can’t complain because if I’d gone to a regular store, I would’ve spent at least ₦500k on furniture alone. And that was two years ago. 

    — Dolapo*, 24

    ALSO READ: 7 People Talk About How Much It Costs To Live In Abuja

  • 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: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters

    To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls

    Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm

    My loves,

    Sharing our story is so difficult. It hurts me physically, and I’m so weak I can’t even talk. But I have to keep going.

    A year after losing Sapphire, I moved on from your father. I was still grieving but found myself wanting someone around. So  I started dating again. It didn’t feel wrong because I knew I needed to move on from the past year. But the relationship was over barely six months in. He felt uncomfortable with me working with your dad. I didn’t see the issue since we’d both moved on from our marriage. 

    I was heartbroken all over again and mad that he didn’t trust me. And somehow, your dad was conveniently there. We had sex and pretty much got back together. 

    We were together for seven months before I found out I was 18 weeks pregnant with you both, Harmony and Melody. I was off my birth control when your dad and I had sex, so it wasn’t a surprise. I felt both scared and excited we had another chance. But then, I lost you both.

    All I remember was ending up with your lifeless bodies in my arms after nine months of imagining your faces. Only the memories of carrying you in my belly kept me alive on my worst days after that. 

    RELATED: 7 Things That Go Through Your Mind When You Have a Pregnancy Scare

    Harmony Oluwatunmininu, you! You reminded me of myself and all the stories my mum used to tell me about what I did to her while she was pregnant. Every time I felt movement, I knew it was you. You were the most active and must’ve tormented Melody. I remember seeing you slap your sister during an ultrasound. I wish I caught it on video because it’ll sound unbelievable to anyone else. But I saw you. 

    I planned to tell that story every single day to every single person, especially at your wedding, and be that embarrassing mother. I understand that you couldn’t live without your sister and needed to be with her. I hope you’re having fun scattering all the toys in baby heaven and frustrating all the angel nannies.

    RELATED: Nanny Diaries: Nigerian Mothers Talk About the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

    Melody, my sweet girl. I named you Oluwatamilore after my best friend because our strength and perseverance reminded me of her. I’m sure she would’ve loved to meet you. You were the calmest twin, but I know you fought so hard to stay alive. I wish I could’ve helped you fight more. I hope you can see Harmony up there. Please give her a big hug and kiss for me. 

    Losing you both was hard. I had people blaming me for going back to your father. But I’d do it again if it means I could’ve been a mum today. I wish I could hold you both just one more time. I wish I could see your faces again and hear you cry. I still visit your graves, and I promise to do this as often as possible so you never feel alone.

    Mummy loves you with every fibre of her being. Until we meet again, my princesses, remember that.

    Forever in my heart,

    Mum

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

    ALSO READ: Everyone Quickly Moves On From Your Miscarriage Except You

  • There’s nothing as infuriating as an unexpected period stain. She strolls in like unsolicited debit alerts you receive on a day you decide to casually breathe in Lagos. One minute you’re feeling secure in your double-layered pad and the next, your uterus decides to disgrace you. 

    But let’s rant about it together. In this article, seven women share their most annoying experiences with getting stained, starting with mine.

    “Let’s not even get into how I left the okada man’s seat covered in blood”

    There hasn’t been a more shameful experience for me than when I got stained in light brown khaki pants at 16. I was at uni for registrations, and I didn’t realise I was stained until a woman randomly pulled me to the corner and told me. I was so embarrassed. Mostly because I didn’t know how long I’d been walking around with a patch of blood on my bum.

    The worst part was trying to get home. I was in a completely different city from my parents, so all I had were relations to ask for help. I called my uncle in a panic to pick me up, but he didn’t come because I couldn’t tell him exactly why it was an emergency. When I called his wife to explain, she said I was being dramatic. 

    RELATED: 11 Things That Come With Periods

    Bolt wasn’t as popular in 2014, so I ended up hopping three buses and flying a bike to get home. I held a clerk bag against my bum through the whole journey in an attempt to cover my shame — a tad dramatic. And let’s not even get into how I left the okada man’s seat covered in blood.

    — Ortega, 23

    “My underwear was drenched at the bank”

    Last Tuesday, I decided to take the risk of not wearing a pad on the fifth day of my cycle. I knew it was a risky move, but at this point, I’d had three months of my five-day cycle suddenly becoming four. I trusted that I was completely done. 

    Then, I got to the bank and felt that irritating burst of blood you get when your period randomly shows up. I was so uncomfortable, but I needed to sort out the issues with my account. And the customer service was so slow. By the time the guy was done, my underwear was drenched.

    RELATED: 7 Things About Periods That Are More Annoying Than Bleeding

    But I think the most frustrating part was getting back home an hour later, putting on a pad and realising the blood had stopped. Like the 45 minutes I’d sat with soaked underwear at the bank didn’t just happen.

    — Lola, 26

    “I started my period again after five years”

    When I was 45, I unexpectedly had my period almost five years after it had stopped. It started with cramps, but the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They attributed it to some kind of transition to menopause. I spent a week in my room in a lot of pain. 

    A week later, the blood started to flow and caught me off guard. I didn’t even understand how it was possible. The doctors said it happened occasionally to women my age. 

    RELATED: Navigating Sex As A Perimenopausal Divorcee

    It had been years since I put on a pad, so of course, it shifted as I went from meeting to meeting the next day. And that’s how I ended up with a stained dress at an important client meeting. It wasn’t horrible because we were friends. But I was past the age for all that crap of period stains.

    — Julie, 49

    “I couldn’t go home because there was so much work to do”

    In February 2022, I had to be out for fieldwork at Oniru beach. My flow is usually heavy, but I was sure I’d be fine until about noon. I was on the bus until 8 a.m., and I didn’t know I was badly stained on the ride until a random woman on the beach told me.

    I changed my pad, but I couldn’t leave because we had a lot of work to do. And everyone on my team was a guy, so it was very awkward. I ended up walking around with a huge stain on my light blue jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like digging myself into a hole as much as I did on that day.

    — Deola, 27

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    “I didn’t know how to handle getting stained in a class full of boys”

    My mum never really liked to talk about periods or puberty. I learnt most of what I needed from friends. But I didn’t know how to handle getting stained in a class full of boys. I was 18 and in my second year of engineering at uni when it happened. 

    Engineering boys are already annoying, so getting stained during a class and not knowing is the worst. And then having one of them tell you about it is the cherry on top. The guys made it seem like it was unnatural with their awkward stares. So I actually cried. Mostly because of my rep, but I also felt unprepared because I’d been in an all-girls secondary school.

    — Ashley, 19

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    “I didn’t use pads until I was 18. My mum also didn’t use them”

    I didn’t use pads until I was 18. My mum also didn’t use them. She taught me to use tissue paper or clothes and they weren’t the best absorbents for a heavy flow. 

    The one time I really got frustrated was when my mum sent me on one of her long errands and I got stained. I was 14 at the time and so upset. The market was rowdy, so that made it stressful to deal with. I had to walk back home with a stained skirt and blood practically dripping down my legs.

    — Peace, 53

    RELATED: 6 Ways To Make Your Girlfriend Feel Better When She Is On Her Period

    “It didn’t make sense because I used a panty liner”

    I got stained at church this month (2022). On my calendar, I had two more days until my next period. But I wore a pant liner just in case it came earlier. And I confidently put on a yellow dress for church. When it was time for offering, a babe randomly dragged me to her seat to let me know I was stained.

    It was such a huge stain and it didn’t make sense because I had pantyliners on for goodness sake. I had to beg the lady for her scarf to cover myself and take a bike home. With how irregular my periods are, it was the day I wore a yellow dress it decided to be punctual.

    — Sara*, 21

    ALSO READ: My Period Is Trying to Kill Me, and I’m Expected to Work Through It

  • When Conrad was 12, puberty hit him with a face full of acne and led him into the rollercoaster world of skincare. 15 years later, he’s found a steady routine and fully accepted that he’ll probably never have clear skin. 

    But just how much does it cost to maintain this manly beauty? 

    This is Conrad’s journey of beauty, as told to Steffi O.

    I woke up one morning and puberty hit me hard. I was 12 and suddenly had a shit tonne of acne all over my face. It got to a point where my nickname was “Pimples” at school. And I was pretty much the only one going through that phase of puberty in JS2. Everyone else experienced it in JS3 or SS1. 

    I tried everything I could to release the hold acne had over my life. My first stop was an Igbo guy who had a cosmetic store near my house. And omo, the things I tried there? The most random cleansers and toners were like ₦700 each. The day I paid ₦3500 for one of the toners, I almost lost it because that was big money in 2007. 

    RELATED: 5 Nigerian Men Discuss Experiencing Puberty

    I didn’t even know the difference between a facial wash and a cleanser. I just knew there was something that needed to be on cotton wool, and I applied everything on my face. 

    I saved up my daily ₦100 pocket money and collected extra from my uncles. I used these savings to try every kind of ointment I could find from the man’s store. From Royallux to those products with Asian women on their packs — I tried everything. My primary concern was not having those huge-ass pimples anymore.

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    In hindsight, I wish I didn’t use all those products. Maybe If I did some research, I would’ve gotten rid of the acne earlier, but who was doing research back in 2007 and 2008? After washing my face with my Dettol or Septol soap (anything with “tol” was my go-to), I kept using the random ointments the man gave me. 

    Patience was another thing I didn’t have. I didn’t know how to use a product for more than a month. Sometimes, it wasn’t up to a month before I’d decide, “It’s not working,” and go back to the Igbo man’s store. And the guy wasn’t even telling me to calm down. Of course, he was trying to make money, so he would always give me something new to try.

    RELATED: How To Create The Perfect Grooming Products for Men

    My skin was also really fucked up because I wasn’t using sunscreen or moisturiser after everything the guy gave me. I assumed my Dettol soap and ₦2k ointment routine would work. Then I started to have white patches on my face. 

    One of the seniors at school called me in front of a group of seniors in his class right after assembly. He asked me why my face had different colours and assumed I was bleaching. I hadn’t noticed how bad it was until then. And I don’t really look at my face in the mirror unless I’m actively applying a product. All the other seniors started laughing. It still ranks as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. 

    RELATED: 6 Things You Do That Are Ruining Your Natural Face Game

    After the incident, I ditched that particular ointment. We also moved to a different area in 2011, so I’d moved on from my first cosmetic seller.

    I still stuck to my rudimentary skincare routine of over-the-counter products and antiseptic soaps. When I got into university, I was trying not to fail, so skincare was the least of my problems. And I wasn’t conscious of skincare until I became a lot more active on Twitter out of boredom in 2016. I was done with university and finally had the time and more money for skincare. 

    I was almost always on the Black American side of Twitter — I don’t know how I found myself there, but I’m still there today — and they talked a lot about skin. That’s when I started to learn about things like three-step routines, sunscreen and toners that didn’t need to be applied on cotton wool and serum.

    Access to money after university made me more dedicated to trying out the skincare routines I saw online. My initial budget for an entire set of products was ₦10k, but with a job, I could go for a ₦12k face wash or ₦18k toner without flinching. 

    Getting better information about skincare also delivered me antiseptic soaps and over-the-counter products from my secondary school and uni days. I understood the cleanser, toner, moisturiser and exfoliation routine better. Because skincare wasn’t that big in Nigeria before 2016, I had to get my products from friends and family travelling abroad. 

    The first “real” skincare products, I bought were Thayers Witch Hazel toner and Clean ‘n’ Clear face wash. And now that I think about it, they were the ghetto. My face didn’t get the hydration it really needed for the dark spots and acne. Later, I wrapped things up with a Nivea moisturiser. 

    RELATED: 4 Nigerian Men Talk About Their Skincare Routine

    Some “natural” skincare hacks were a miss 

    I still wasn’t using sunscreen. Yeah, it’s important, but I felt it was an unnecessary expense for a dark-skinned man. 

    I also had a natural skincare products phase, either using turmeric and lemon to exfoliate or ordering a black soap from Ghana that cost ₦6k — mostly because I was worried about the quality sold in Nigeria. I also used shea butter on my face — blame Black Twitter — but it didn’t work for me b. I’d forgotten that shear butter only made you glisten and sweat under the hot sun. 

    By 2018, I found with CeraVe face wash, glycolic acid toner and salicylic acid from The Ordinary products, and stuck with them. A friend told me I was wasting my time with all these products because I still wasn’t using any sunscreen. So I decided to try Neutrogena’s sunscreen, but it made me look like a corpse. A little more of it and I would’ve looked like Liz Benson from Diamond Ring. I eventually switched to Missha in 2020 and it didn’t give the same ghost vibes. Since then I’ve been consistent with sunscreen. 

    RELATED: 14 Hilarious Tweets That Show Nigerian Men’s Complicated Relationship With Skincare

    2019 was the year I got into serums like Vitamin C because they’re meant to help with hyperpigmentation from acne. I tried one from The Ordinary product and switched to Naturium — It costs ₦18k and it still blows my mind how expensive it is, but it works. So, my whole routine since then has cost roughly ₦58,500 monthly. And in the months I only replace a few products, I spend  ₦40k. 

    The thing is, I have a bad habit of not noticing changes in my body unless they get really obvious, just like working out. When I’m losing weight, I don’t notice until my clothes start looking noticeably oversized. But I notice when I add weight even without my clothes.  People always tell me how much my skin has improved, but I don’t really see it, mostly because I still have hyperpigmentation and still get zits here and there. 

    RELATED: 7 Things in a Nigerian Man’s Skincare Package

    So to avoid being too obsessive, I look at skincare as a way of life, not necessarily a means to an end. And as long as I’m not breaking out, I’ll stick with whatever product I try out.  

    Trying out micro-needling and accepting my acne

    The newest thing in my routine is micro-needling, which  I started in February mainly to get rid of a scar on my face after a barber cut too deeply into my skin in 2010. The cut wasn’t obvious because I had a ton of hair and I didn’t really feel it. It only became a thing when it got infected and became this white line on my head. 

    The procedure which costs ₦80k per session is meant to make sure the scar completely disappears. I have four more sessions left. Right now, other people have noticed the improvements on the scar, but  I’ll have an opinion on how well it works after the last session. 

    Micro-needling is a painful process. It’s like multiple needles piercing your skin repeatedly. The aesthetician applies a numbing cream to reduce the pain but it still hurts. So after all that, I need the scar to be completely gone from my face.

    Men love their skin too

    At this point, I’m not chasing clear-as-day skin. I’m just happy the acne is no longer as horrendous as when I was 12. Now, skincare is part and parcel of my life. It’s a routine — just like going to the gym. 

    Luckily, I’m also surrounded by guys that get it — only one person in our circle has refused to renounce Irish Spring. But the rest are even more obsessed with their skincare routine — dedicated to the point of spending $36 (₦21k) on one face wash. So yeah, men love their skin too.

    READ ALSO: 8 Extremely Basic Skincare Tips For Men

    *Editor’s note: An earlier version of this article had a typo with $30,000. It has been updated with the correct amount.

  • As told to Steffi O.

    How the journey to debt began

    I would’ve never believed that at 21 I’d find my first love and be in the middle of crawling my way out of a debt of ₦7.9 million. But that was me in 2019; broke, failing at school and deeply in love.

    It all started when I got into university in 2014. I was 16 and studying a course I didn’t plan to. I didn’t want to be home for an extra year, so I decided to go in but focus on starting some kind of business. I read a lot of marketing and psychology books hoping to learn a few things about money. The main hurdle was raising the actual funds to begin. 

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    I didn’t want to ask my parents for help. They were giving me ₦20k every month, and I wanted to find a way to make it work. It helped that items like sardine weren’t priced like gold at the time. Then, there were a few months of getting free food from at least one girl every day. But that lover boy phase crashed when I had two women wanting a lot more than the occasional make-out after a meal.

    I was a church boy who’d never had sex. I just had a fine face and a deep voice. When it came down to offing pant, I was a clueless guy. So I fled.

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    Getting into forex trading and slowly digging myself into a rabbit hole

    By my second year, my GP completely tanked. I was struggling with a second-class lower grade, and honestly, I was more interested in figuring out forex. I’d gotten into social media marketing and made some money after managing my church’s account. The little money I’d saved up from that and my allowance was decent enough to start trading forex with. 

    The exchange rate wasn’t bad. I earned $150 in four months from the initial ₦100k I put in. Compounding the interest took it to $1000 by the end of the year. I made enough money to rent an apartment close to uni by 2015. In my mind, I’d struck gold.

    The next year, I wanted to expand my capital by getting more people to invest. I had a friend who’d also been trading, so it made sense to work as partners to raise the cash. On a good day, we could both make at least 50% of our capital back. In a month, that stretched into 300% of whatever we put in to trade at the beginning of the month. But the illusion that we were making big money led us down a rabbit hole.

    RELATED: 8 Ways Money Habits Change For Nigerian Men at Ages 21, 25, and 30

    Expanding the business and doubling profits

    In our 19-year-old minds, we’d unlocked something major. We were sure we could get people to invest and guarantee a profit of 120% per year. Compared to bank rates, it was like striking a pot of gold. 

    In 10 weeks, we raised ₦4.7 million from 12 people. I got my dad to put in some money, and some clients from my social media management gigs. The rookie mistake? Thinking that more money meant more profit in such a volatile system. 

    At first, I was trading $50 a day to make 50% back. But with more money, I was putting in at least $1000 a day with a higher risk of losing money on a bad market day. I was doing that with too little time to recuperate because of the ridiculous profit margin I promised people. I practically built my own death trap.

    RELATED: “A Bit Of Luck and A Whole Lot Of Work” – Tips From A Master Forex Trader

    But things were going well before I caught on. In a little over a year, we made about ₦11 million and sorted out our investors with a million to spare. A couple of people wanted us to keep their capital and roll it over for the next year. 

    I decided to diversify the money into starting a logistics business while we traded on the side. I did a bit of angel investing in small start-ups and bargained for a profit. Life was pretty good in 2018.

    We had more people join the investment plan and that took the initial capital from ₦4.7 to ₦7.9 million. With everything going on, in my 20-year-old mind, I was balling. I’d even gotten into a relationship. But she was more of a trophy girlfriend because I’d call like once in three days. I felt the money was good enough to keep her happy. 

    RELATED: How To Make Money Online In Nigeria

    From grace to the absolute ghetto

    In a flash, 2018 moved from my best year to a nightmare. First, I found out my girlfriend had been cheating on me with one of my closest friends. Over the next six months, profits drastically dropped on forex. The logistics business was holding up until the biker had an accident and wrecked our bike. I didn’t even know where to start.

    The biggest blow was realising my partner had been gambling with the money. It made sense because every time our monthly profits dropped, he would have an excuse for why he couldn’t show me the books. And I was taking the lamba for six months. Eventually, he owned up to putting the money up for bets, hoping to make double for himself.

    That’s how I saw myself losing out on all the profit I’d anticipated. No business, my first serving of breakfast and a debt of ₦7.9 million to crawl my way out of.

    RELATED: The #Nairalife Of Crippling Debt

    Cutting my losses

    In 2019, I had to cut back on my big boy spending. I packed my bags back to my family’s house. My grades were completely messed up, so let’s not even talk about school. 

    All I had in savings was $1000. And since I’d personally brought in all the investors, I had to ask for a year to figure out how to pay back their capital. Everything was on me. At that point, I wasn’t even going to class anymore. I just wanted to write my exams and leave school. 

    RELATED: We Asked 5 Nigerian Students How They Dealt With Failing A Course

    My whole world was practically crumbling, with my integrity on the line. I didn’t want to make the money back through forex because I was traumatised by everything that had already gone down. The only thing I could do was ask my aunt for a job at a firm. But with those earnings, I was looking at paying them back in three years. I felt trapped.

    Then, in September, I met her.

    RELATED: “You Don’t Need a Lot of Money” — 7 Nigerian Men on the Cost of Finding Love

    In debt and in love

    Look, I knew I couldn’t be thinking about love at that point. But I can’t explain why I wanted to get close to her when we met at my faculty. I just did. I played it safe because I didn’t know how to handle being so broke and trying to get with a babe.

    The first thing I did was focus on being her friend. She was smart and probably top of her class. I on the other hand was praying I’d get to graduate and survive what I was going through. But when I finally got her number in December, I probably spoke to her every single day. She made everything better. The long days weren’t as overwhelming and she knew how to get me talking for a long time.

    RELATED: 5 Nigerians On How They Navigate Money In Their Relationships

    Broke and being a better lover

    The truth is, being so broke made me a better lover. In my previous relationship, I could afford a fancy date that I felt made up for my weeks of absence. But this time, it was down to who I was as a person. It was a lot of work, but with this girl, I didn’t have a choice.

    One thing’s for sure, I thank God for Chicken Republic in my life because that’s where I took her on what we could call our first date. To spice things up, I’d switch between places I could spend ₦5k at the most. And on the days I couldn’t afford anything, I’d cook for her — yes, she survived. 

    RELATED: 5 Dates For 5k: Ideas That Don’t Break The Bank

    Maybe that’s the simplicity of university love. Being broke and in love wasn’t impossible if I could balance it out with being present for her.

    The issue with this Nollywood spin-off of love in the trenches is I wasn’t willing to commit to the boyfriend tag. I knew she liked me. I mean, who sees a guy flying a bike to almost every date location and sticks around? I just couldn’t imagine dating someone as amazing as her without being able to take her to fast-food chain restaurants. I was too proud, and I knew at some point, she’d want more than I could offer.

    RELATED: 12 Signs A Woman Is Dating You Just For Your Money

    Our first kiss and miss

    I hadn’t told her I was in debt and flunking out of school at this point. But after our first kiss, I decided it was time to own up. It had been four weeks of seeing each other non-stop already. But before I could lay it all on the table, she cut in with the biggest blow I’d gotten in a while. It turned out that all the while we were together, this babe was in a relationship. And she was coming clean because of our kiss too.

    I’d never been so torn on what to do. But I didn’t want to give my emotions away. I think the dumbest part was that I didn’t actually care she had a boyfriend. Where was he in the last month of us seeing every day? Clearly, she was over the guy.

    RELATED: 7 Money Habits Of Nigerians You Should Never Date

    I gave her some space to figure things out. And I took the break to crawl my way out of half the money I owed. I was aggressively trading crypto and went ham on freelancing for the whole year. Nothing else mattered at that point. I was 21, barely making any money for myself and felt trapped in my life. If I could get a grip, then her boyfriend didn’t matter.

    By the end of 2020, her relationship ended. I wasn’t even applying pressure. Everything just scattered on its own. But I wanted to give her time to heal before jumping in to ask her out. I offered to drop her off at the airport when she needed to travel. I called occasionally but we texted almost every day. I didn’t give her too much space so she’d know I was serious about her.

    At this point, I owed my last ₦150k. And I told her about the debt. She didn’t seem unsettled by it, but we talked about how much the next year of my life would be focused on recovering from the loss.

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    The uncertainty of loving in your 20s

    Honestly, I’m happy I found this woman at the lowest point of my 20s. I don’t know if she’d had any doubts along the way, but being able to gather the  ₦7.9 million in three years makes me trust that I can figure things out and make a life for us. 

    I can’t deny that it’s been easy because she’s out of school, and I’m taking one last course to wrap things up. She’s even off for her Master’s soon. It’s been nine months of officially dating and we’ve found some sort of balance. Of course, money is still an integral part of creating memories. But we’re also the type of people who are happy strolling down the crazy streets of Lagos to find perfectly fried yam and akara to pair with a wacky Youtube video.

    Can our love stand the test of being in very different phases of life? I’m only 23, so I’m mostly hoping. The only thing I know for now is that I found love when I didn’t think I was worth loving.

    ALSO READ: What’s Dating Like in Abuja on a ₦180k Monthly Salary?

  • 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.

    Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm

    From: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters

    To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls

    My loves,

    I miss you all so much. I have so much to say. Yet, I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent months trying to find the words. I still can’t get it right.

    I’m 26 and supposed to be a mother to you three amazing girls. But I’m not. Nobody tells you about the struggles of losing a baby: the bond you form before they’re born, the feeling of knowing you’ll never see or hold them again.  I found out exactly how that feels with my first loss at 23. 

    Sapphire, or Jesumunumidun as your grandmother fondly called you, I’m sorry I failed you as a mother. 

    When I met your father, I was young. At 22, I thought I’d found the man I’d spend the rest of my life with. But after a year of dating and six months of marriage, the fairytale ended. He cheated. And I was too fragile to take the news when he confessed.

    RELATED: How I Caught My Ex Cheating

    After that, mummy got depressed and suicidal. And my decision to overdose on Advil cost you your life, Sapphire. I should’ve fought harder, but realising your father had been with another woman was too much to bear. When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors promised we’d be okay. I believed them because I couldn’t imagine being alive without you. 

    April 11th — I’ll never forget the day I realised I’d never get to see you. I couldn’t feel anything at first. I didn’t know how to grieve. I’m so sorry I didn’t give you a chance to live, Sapphire. I should’ve endured the hurt and persevered through it, but I was selfish. And the guilt has eaten me up every single day. I still wish it was me and not you who had to suffer the consequences of my heartbreak. 

    On some days, I hold on to the eight months I had you in my belly. You know, your dad and I got married because we found out I was two months pregnant with you. You made us a family. 

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    I love to think about how happy you made me. How you moved around at the slightest sound. Your kicks when you heard your dad’s voice or mine sing. I laugh at how you made me crave ice cream even though I’m lactose intolerant. You made mummy so happy, Sapphire. And I’ll cherish those memories forever. 

    I hope you know there’s nothing more I wanted in life than to be your mummy. This letter isn’t perfect, but it’s the closest I can get to expressing how much I’ve missed you. You would’ve been the best big sister to Harmony and Melody. But I know you three have each other in heaven. 

    With all my love,

    Mum

    Watch out for the second part of Maria’s letter next week Sunday on #ToHER

    ALSO READ: Everyone Quickly Moves On From Your Miscarriage Except You