Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.
Ibrahim* (28) and Tunde* (28) went from casual uni classmates to post-grad besties who did everything together. But when Tunde lost his job and later asked Ibrahim for ₦100k to fund an abortion, the request forced Ibrahim to choose between his values and his friendship. Now, he isn’t sure if he protected his beliefs or failed his friend.
When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did he fuck up, or not?
This is Ibrahim’s dilemma, as told to Adeyinka
I met Tunde during our second year in university. We were in the same faculty and used to see each other around, but we weren’t close at all. It was just the regular “How far?”, sitting in the same area during lectures, and sometimes hanging out if our mutual friends organised something.
After we graduated, everyone scattered. I thought we would drift apart like many uni friendships do, but social media changed that. We followed each other on Instagram and Twitter, and that’s where our friendship really started to build. We moved from random replies to actual conversations in the DMs. From there, we exchanged numbers and carried the banter to WhatsApp. Over time, we switched from being former school acquaintances to actual friends.
Earlier this year, his life changed after he lost his job. When he said they had let him go, I felt it in my body. I tried to encourage him, but I could hear the sadness in his voice on the phone. After that call, I made a deliberate effort to check on him more often. I would text him during the week or call in the evenings just to ask how he was holding up. I invited him over from time to time so he wouldn’t sit alone at home, overthinking. He kept trying to find something new, but nothing serious showed up. That’s how things were when, around August, he sent me a message saying he urgently needed ₦100k.
I was at work when I saw the message. My first instinct was to think of my account balance because I knew I didn’t really have that kind of money just lying there. Things had also been tight for me. But this was Tunde. I replied that things weren’t exactly smooth at my end, but if he could wait till the end of the month, I would try my best to raise it or at least send a substantial part. In my head, I was already calculating what I could cut back on and how I could move money around. That was when he said it couldn’t wait.
He emphasised that it was urgent and time-sensitive. He kept repeating that he was in serious trouble and needed help quickly. At that point, I had to ask what was going on because I wanted to know exactly what was going on. He hesitated initially. He said it was “personal” and that he felt somehow sharing it, but after a few back and forth, he finally opened up. He said a babe was pregnant for him and they wanted to abort, and the ₦100k was for the procedure and related expenses.
Hearing that the money was for an abortion made me feel somehow. At first, I tried to find a way around it. I told him the money was too much, and I could only raise a very small amount which might not help. I was hoping he would say not to worry.
Instead, he kept insisting and said I should bring what I have. Part of me wanted to say, “Take the money and let this thing just pass,” while another part of me felt that I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did. I imagined constantly remembering that I had financed a decision I didn’t believe in.
After dodging for a while, I realised I couldn’t keep hiding behind excuses. I needed to be honest with him. So I told him the truth. I said I didn’t feel comfortable giving him money for an abortion because it went against my values and personal beliefs. I explained that it wasn’t about him specifically, but about what I could live with in my own conscience.
He simply said “okay” and didn’t say anything again. The response looked harmless on the surface, so I relaxed a little. I thought he had understood my point, even if he didn’t like it. I even felt some relief because I believed I’d managed to stay true to myself while still being respectful.
I was wrong.
The first sign that something was off was the silence that followed. Normally, we would chat at least a few times a week. If I posted on my status, he would react. If he posted, I would reply. Suddenly, nothing. A full week went by and we didn’t talk at all.
I decided to reach out first. I called him, but he didn’t pick up. I sent a voice note, trying to check up on him and also see if everything was alright. He listened and didn’t respond. Another week passed—still nothing. By the third week, I tried again. This time, I sent a lengthy message asking if everything was okay between us, as the distance felt strange. That was when he finally replied.
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He told me straight that he felt I wasn’t a good friend. He said he had come to me at one of the lowest points of his life, and instead of helping, I started talking about my values. He said he would have gone out of his way for me without asking too many questions. In his words, “If the situation was reversed, I wouldn’t think twice.”
Reading that hurt. I tried to explain again that my refusal was not because I didn’t want to support him, but because of the specific thing the money was meant for. I told him I could help in other ways, like contributing to feeding or transport while he figured things out, but I couldn’t fund that particular decision.
He didn’t budge. He said real friendship sometimes meant doing uncomfortable things for each other. We went back and forth for a while. At some point, it stopped being a conversation and turned into both of us defending ourselves. Eventually, the chats just dried up. Since then, we haven’t really spoken. It’s as if the friendship folded in on itself because of that issue.
I think about it a lot. There are days I feel justified. I remind myself that everyone has the right to their personal boundaries, and being a friend doesn’t mean you must cross lines that make you deeply uncomfortable. I tell myself that if I had sent that money, I might still be struggling with guilt now.
But there are also days when I wonder if I was too rigid. Maybe I could have lent him the money and simply told myself his choices were his own. Maybe what he needed was not my moral position but my support as a friend in crisis.
I also don’t know what happened with the pregnancy. He never told me whether they went ahead or not. I miss the friendship. But I also know I didn’t refuse out of wickedness. I did it because I could not reconcile my personal beliefs with the request he made.
So now, I’m stuck in the middle. On one side, there’s loyalty to a friend who has been important in my life. On the other side, there’s loyalty to myself and the kind of person I want to be.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
