In 2021, Adun went viral for her honesty about where she was, who she was becoming, and how she was saving every naira to chase a university education. We published a feature here.
Four years later, she’s back with a first-class degree in Mathematics from the University of Ilorin, graduating with a CGPA of 4.943.
From cleaning jobs to lecture halls, this is how Adun navigated university, with grit, grace, and the help of an online community that refused to let her journey end halfway.
Part One: The Dream and the Struggle
In April 2021, I shared a photo of myself in my cleaner’s uniform, accompanied by a caption about being comfortable showing the world a glimpse of my life at the time, knowing it wouldn’t define me forever. I had no idea that tweet would change the course of my life. By the following morning, it had gone viral, and several blogs reached out, asking me to share my experience.
My family wasn’t well off. I struggled through primary and secondary school, barely eating or affording the basics. If you asked my classmates about me, they’d remember the girl who didn’t have a school bag and carried her books in doubled-up polythene bags. They’d remember the mornings I trekked long distances to school on an empty stomach, driven only by the belief that education could change my story.
By 2018, when I was 18, it was clear that my family simply couldn’t afford a university education. It felt like a distant dream, and I’d have to make it happen myself. The only way forward was to work and save for it.
I wrote JAMB in 2019 but didn’t make the cut-off, so I kept working. When I finally passed the university screening in 2020, COVID-19 and the ASUU strike delayed the admission process. Those waiting years became years of labour and quiet hope.
The cleaning job wasn’t my first.
Throughout 2019, I worked as a sales representative on Lagos Island, earning ₦12,000 per month, which barely covered my transport costs. Not much changed when my salary increased to ₦20,000. Still, I showed up with enthusiasm, stayed positive, built trust, and treated customers with kindness. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t save anything towards my education. The only thing I managed to buy for myself that year was my first Android phone, which cost me ₦27,000.
However, my commute from the mainland to the island ultimately became impossible. At the start of 2020, I took a job as a primary school teacher on the mainland, earning ₦9,500 per month. I taught for three months before the lockdown began in March.
At my previous job, I’d met a customer who admired my positive attitude and work ethic. He took my number, promising to reach out if he ever heard of a job opening. True to his word, after the lockdown eased, he recommended me for a cleaning role at a GTBank branch on the island.
Once I take a job, I give it my all — no complaints, no shame. Cleaning wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work, and I was determined to make the most of it.
I earned ₦30,000 a month and began saving toward my tuition.
But a few months into the job, something terrible happened. One evening, on my way home, I entered a “one chance” bus. Before I realised what was happening, they had emptied my account. I lost my entire savings: ₦80,000.
That incident broke me. I spent the rest of 2020 trying to recover. I couldn’t save a kobo from my salary. Still, I refused to give up. I’d already taken my University screening exams and was waiting for admission. Even when it appeared everything had crumbled, I held on to faith. I told myself I would keep working, keep saving, and make it to school.
Part Two: The Breakthrough
I kicked off 2021 with a quiet determination. Every month, I saved ₦15,000 from my cleaning job, holding on to the dream of finally becoming a university student.
Then, in April, everything changed — the overwhelming response to that tweet. Thousands of people, moved by my story, shared and commented on it. Many even promised to support me whenever I got my admission.
A month later, in June, I did. I was offered admission to the University of Ilorin to study Mathematics.
By then, I had saved ₦90,000 — enough to show commitment, but not sufficient to cover tuition, accommodation, and other fees. Still, I hoped. I had spent nearly a year building good relationships with the staff at the bank where I worked. When I told some of them about my admission, they celebrated with me and offered to help. A few gave ₦5,000 here, ₦10,000 there. One of the bank executives even paid my ₦30,000 acceptance fee in full.
I stopped the cleaning job that same month and began preparing to resume school in July 2021.
For the first time in a long while, I felt the universe aligning in my favour.
I also reached out to some of the kind strangers who had commented on my viral tweet, reminding them that I’d finally gotten in. Some responded, sending ₦25,000 or ₦20,000 to support my journey. Little by little, the money added up: my savings, the gifts from the bank staff, and the unexpected kindness from people online. Altogether, I gathered about ₦200,000.
It was enough to cover my tuition, buy basic supplies, and pay for accommodation. My 100-level school fees were around ₦55,000, and I found an off-campus hostel that cost ₦36,000 a year. I split the bill with a roommate.
For the first time, I could breathe. I could see the life I’d dreamt of, built from nothing but faith, hard work, and a single tweet that reminded me the world still had kindness to give.
Part Three: The Hands That Held Me
After my first semester results came out, I had a 5.0 GPA. I was overjoyed, and more than anything, I wanted to thank the people who had helped me get there. So I sent them my result, just to show them that their support had been put to good use. They were impressed, proud even. Some of them decided to go a step further — a few offered to put me on a monthly allowance, allowing me to focus on school without worrying about money.
Around that time, I also shared my result with a journalist who had interviewed me after my tweet went viral. He was so happy that he told some of his friends about me, and together they raised ₦118,000.
One of his colleagues, whom I’ll call Madam Y, reached out to him afterwards. She offered to take full responsibility for my financial needs throughout university so I could concentrate on maintaining my grades.
That was how my financial backbone began to form: three main benefactors and a few others who supported me from time to time.
From the second semester of my first year, Madam Y started sending me ₦20,000 every month. Later, she increased it to ₦30,000, then ₦50,000. She never failed, not once. Another person I’d met on Twitter also put me on a monthly allowance. The bank executive from my cleaning job did the same and eventually bought me my first laptop.
There was also another kind man from Twitter who didn’t send money monthly, but always checked in. Whenever I mentioned a school need, he’d ask how much it would cost and simply send it: ₦50,000 here, ₦30,000 there.
Altogether, I received approximately ₦30,000 per month during my first year of university. By my second year, it grew to ₦40,000; by my third year, to ₦60,000; and in my final year, to nearly ₦90,000. They supported me through every stage without complaint.
Because of them, I never had to struggle financially during my time in school. People I had never met in person, who only knew me through a single tweet, stood by me as though I were their ward.
Before university, I had imagined spending my breaks doing cleaning jobs or washing clothes to make ends meet. In fact, after my first year, when there was an ASUU strike, my old workplace called to say there was an opening. I told Madam Y, thinking she’d encourage me to go back. Instead, she told me to rest and continued to send me allowance.
Because of people like her, I never had to go back to cleaning again.
Related: #Match2025: The Cost of Chasing a US Medical Residency from Nigeria
Part Four: Milestones & Scholarships
From the start, I knew I couldn’t take any chances. In my first year, the school authorities emphatically stated that anyone who didn’t make at least a 1.5 CGPA would be sent home.
I couldn’t afford to be sent home.
The fear alone pushed me harder than anything else. I attended tutorials every weekend and went to night classes almost every day. You’d always find me in the lecture halls, reading, solving past questions, or explaining topics to others.
Most nights, I’d return to my off-campus hostel around 7 a.m., take a quick bath, and head straight to class. After lectures, I’d rest briefly, then go back for night reading. It was exhausting, but I told myself I couldn’t waste this opportunity.
Things got easier in my second year when I got a hostel on campus, sponsored by one of my benefactors. I could now attend tutorials, read late, and still get a proper rest. By then, I’d begun to understand how the school system worked: how to prioritise, plan, and study efficiently. I didn’t pile up notes. I read consistently, understood deeply, and helped others learn too.
The consistency paid off. I won two scholarships.
In 2022, I won the Federal Government Scholarship, which paid ₦250,000, and in 2023, the MTN Scholarship worth ₦300,000. In my final year, I also received the Scholar award, which paid ₦94,000 for maintaining a perfect CGPA in the academic year.
This October, I graduated as the second-best student in my department and faculty. Overall, I ranked third in the entire university. The student I was constantly neck and neck with beat me by 0.001 point, finishing with a CGPA of 4.944, while I had 4.943.
Finishing high didn’t come easy. My mentors and sponsors were watching, and I refused to let them down. I didn’t want to disappoint myself either.
Sometimes, I still think about that tweet — the single act of honesty changed my life’s trajectory.
If I hadn’t made that post, I might never have met Madam Y or any of the people who supported me. Their kindness kept me going. But beyond their help, my biggest motivation was my background; growing up with so little made me hungry for more.
Part Five: Life After Graduation
My journey into data science began in 2022, when I attended a Computer Science workshop by CSA Africa at the University of Lagos during the holiday break. That’s where I first learned the fundamentals of Python and met the founder, who became one of my biggest mentors.
Through that connection, I was invited to join their teaching team. In July 2025, I travelled to Kenya for the first time as an assistant data science tutor at the University of Nairobi. It was a fully funded trip, and standing before students as a tutor felt surreal.
Beyond CSA, I’ve continued to upskill through DataCamp and WorldQuant University, learning more advanced data science concepts.
Now, I’m preparing for the next chapter. I plan to start applying for postgraduate opportunities and data science jobs next year. Until then, I’m still sharpening my skills, staying ready for whatever comes next.
I’m deeply grateful to God, my sponsors, and every stranger who decided my story was worth investing in. I didn’t disappoint them, and I never will. Every milestone I reach is a reminder of their faith and of how far grace and hard work can take a person.
To me, success is about fulfilment and building a promising career, taking care of my family, and helping others the same way strangers once helped me. When I can mentor someone, support them financially, or help them find their path, that’s success to me.
Becoming a data scientist, speaking at conferences, and ensuring my siblings live better — that’s the life I’m working towards.
