Black tax | Zikoko!

Tunde*, 29, had lived in the UK for barely three months when the requests started pouring in.

It was 2023, and his move on a Global Talent Visa had wiped out 90% of his savings. But the proof his friends and family members needed to believe he now had disposable income was the social media pictures announcing his relocation.

“I didn’t even have a job in the UK yet,” he recalls. “I was still working remotely with the company I left in Nigeria, earning naira and trying to survive as I job-hunted. But how many people could I explain that to? Everyone thought I’d made it.”

Every week, Tunde received WhatsApp messages and Twitter DMs from people asking for financial help and immigration assistance. “A cousin I hadn’t spoken to in years asked me to connect her with an agent who could help her secure a visa,” he says. “When I told her I didn’t use one, and she could find the information online, she said, ‘Just say you don’t want to help me.’”

Tunde’s breaking point came in August 2023 when he woke up to 15 missed calls on WhatsApp from his uncle at 2 a.m. Fearing something had happened, he rang his uncle back, only to find out he was calling to ask for money. His son was getting married, and he wanted Tunde to help with ₦200k.

“He said it was just about £200, so I should be able to afford it,” Tunde laughs dryly. “This man didn’t even know how I got to the UK and how I was surviving. He just heard I was abroad and called to bill me.”

When Tunde refused to send him money, his uncle tried to guilt-trip him, saying he didn’t understand the importance of family. He also reminded Tunde that he’d bought his diapers when he was a baby.

After that incident, Tunde turned off his read receipts on WhatsApp, blocked most of his extended family and locked his Twitter DMs. It’s been two years since, and while he’s in a better financial situation now, he still desperately avoids what he calls the “Nigerian entitlement” to other people’s money.

“Once you start helping out, you can never stop. If you do, you become the devil in their eyes. I’m the black sheep of the family now, but I prefer to be hated than to let anyone suck me dry.”

Tunde’s situation is one that many Nigerians, both at home and abroad, find relatable. Whether you’re landing your first job, announcing a promotion or quietly buying a new car, expectation comes knocking the moment you look like you can give.

In Nigeria, generosity is often expected. Once an individual “blows” (slang meaning an improved financial status), they’ll most likely become a walking emergency fund. Cousin’s rent, friend’s wedding, mother’s church donation, neighbour’s medical bill — everyone looks to the person for help when needs arise.

However, behind the “urgent ₦2k” jokes lies something deeper. In a country where social systems barely function, people have become each other’s safety nets. When healthcare, education, and employment fail, help from others becomes the only form of welfare Nigerians fall back on.

It’s no coincidence that Nigeria remains one of the top remittance-receiving countries in the world. In 2024, Nigerians abroad sent home nearly $21 billion, according to remittance data from the World Bank. This figure marked the highest level in five years, with a notable year-on-year increase of 8.9%. In July 2024 alone, remittance inflows hit $553 million, a 130% increase from July 2023.

While Olayemi Cardoso, Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), attributes these figures to economic reforms and new CBN policies that encourage more Nigerians in the diaspora to choose formal channels for remitting funds, it’s also an indication that many Nigerian residents depend on the financial lifeline from migrant remittances for survival money.

Following a data overhaul, Nigeria’s headline inflation appears to be decreasing on paper (down to 16.05% in October 2025), but unemployment rates continue to rise and remain largely underrepresented.

The inference is simple: With many Nigerians out of jobs or underemployed, and battling with the steep cost of living, success signals ripple out. When someone starts earning well or receives a windfall, they become an entire community’s safety net. More often than not, this knits support and expectation so tightly that boundaries become blurred.

Temi, a 28-year-old product designer in Lagos, calls her family group chat “a monthly GoFundMe.”

“My parents are retired, and my two younger siblings are in university. Every other month, there’s a new emergency: rent, medical bills their HMO plans don’t cover, pocket money and school needs. If I say I can’t help this time, they’ll remind me of my recent purchases or travels. Suddenly, my personal choices are public considerations.”

This communal culture is in action in many Nigerian low-income households. When one child rises, they rise for many. Over time, it becomes less of a choice and more of an obligation.

Yet the pressure isn’t purely financial. It’s also emotional: the guilt of success and the worry that refusal becomes a betrayal.

“I can’t be earning over ₦1 million monthly and leave my family to suffer. It’s unnatural,” Temi says. “My parents took multiple loans to send me to a private university and set me up for the success I enjoy today. My elder brother even had to drop out so I could stay in school. Yes, I often feel overwhelmed with responsibilities and feel like they’re too demanding, but there’s no one else who’ll come to their rescue if I don’t.”

Even though Temi’s income places her in the top percentile of Nigerians, she has almost no savings or a wealth management portfolio due to the expectation of “black tax” and the entitlement that comes with the Nigerian culture of communal success, where money flows upward and sideways before it flows inward.

But when the flow becomes a flood, resentment begins to build quietly under the surface. This phenomenon isn’t limited to family expectations; it also leaks into friendships and relationships.

Chika*, 31, has been close friends with her two friends for 12 years, but over the last two years, she’s noticed a difference in their dynamic. The switch began after she changed jobs and got a 300% pay increase, a move that made her the highest earner in the friend group.

“I began to notice that my friends expected more from me,” Chika says. “We used to pool funds together for group outings and staycations, but now they tell me, ‘You be rich madam na. Pay for us.’”

Chika insists she doesn’t mind spoiling her friends; the problem is that it has now become a constant expectation for her to handle the bills. Once, she joked about spending all her money on her friends, and one of them accused her of being stingy.

The switch from choice to responsibility is subtle. What started as mutual support turns into expectation. And sometimes, introducing boundaries or resistance can sour relationships.

For Chika, resisting this obligation has meant reducing contact [with her friends]. “When I complained, my friend said, ‘How much are you spending? Is it not just our once-in-a-while outings?’ That hurt because it’s not like they’re broke. I’m unmarried; they have husbands who also support them financially. It doesn’t make sense for me to do everything because I earn more. I still love my friends and I know they don’t necessarily mean me harm, but the cost is making me avoid group outings these days.”

While people with friends like Chika can introduce distance to limit financial expectations, it’s a different play in romantic relationships, where money and love seem to be inextricably entangled.

In the realm of Nigerian relationships, the message is loud: if you love me, you’ll support me financially.

Kemi, 27, once dated a man who got upset when she refused to invest in his business. “He said if I believed in him, I’d show it with money. I was like, sir, I’m your girlfriend, not your bank.”

Here again, the expectation is collective success: your partner’s dream becomes your reality. These aren’t isolated incidents; they’re reflections of a society where economic hardship has blurred the lines between emotional and financial roles. When survival is a love language, money becomes a form of affection and a means of validation.

When entitlement doesn’t come in the form of familial or romantic expectations, it shines in the heavy influence of religion.

In Nigeria, blessings are often tied to giving, and giving is connected to being “a good person.” The scriptures come out quickly when someone needs help: “God loves a cheerful giver.” “Your reward is in heaven.”

Adewale, 33, says a random church member once sent him a WhatsApp message that read like a sermon outline, complete with Bible verses about generosity, all because he said he couldn’t loan him ₦500k to start a business.

“It was like he was trying to guilt-trip me with Jesus,” he laughs. “As if refusing to give meant I didn’t fear God.”

Religious communities often operate like extended families. If you’re “doing well,” you’re expected to support church projects, mosque renovations, welfare programs, and allow yourself to be in a position to be someone’s “helper”, sometimes at the expense of your own financial stability.

Your prosperity isn’t just yours; it’s seen as evidence of God’s goodness to the collective. So, when you say “I can’t,” what people hear is “I won’t let God use me.”

Angel Yinkore, Consultant Psychotherapist at Welcome to Truth, says entitlement is a universal human trait, amplified by Nigeria’s communal society and high poverty rates. While it exists differently in the different socio-economic classes, it’s more prevalent and normalised in the approximately 139 million Nigerians who live in poverty.

“When a low-income family rallies to send one child to school, and that child makes it out of the hood, they’re expected to lift everyone else out of poverty or at least provide for their parents and siblings. It’s like a long-term investment.”

This expectation can also transcend family lines. “Because Nigerian societies are more communal than individualistic, everyone in a community feels like a stakeholder in a child’s life,” Angel explains. “So, they expect to share in whatever success the child attains. The more successful a person is, the wider the net of people who feel entitled to their success.

A multinational company could announce you as its CEO today, and people from your parents’ village who have never met you will go, ‘That’s our child,’ as though they had anything to do with it.”

Angel clarifies that entitlement in itself isn’t always a problem. It’s what comes after it. “Nigerians can share in the success of an athlete who represents the country internationally and wins awards. We feel a sense of pride and some connection to that success. However, sometimes, as in the case of the black tax, it doesn’t end with feeling connected to the person. Entitlement then comes with manipulation and threats; an obligation to share your resources.”

Angel emphasises that addressing poverty in the country is crucial to solving the wave of this phenomenon, as people feel entitled due to financial instability and the pressure of staying afloat.

“We have to look at it as a systemic thing. People are poor. You can’t expect someone living on ₦500, then their brother wins the lottery, and you tell them not to feel entitled to help.”

As it is in all things, balance is key to navigating the Nigerian sense of entitlement.

Tunde is adamant about creating boundaries, but he helps when he can. “I call it structured generosity,” he jokes. “I budget what I can give close family members every other month, and I’m done once I hit that limit. I know people still call me stingy, but I’m not doing this to be liked. I know some people actually need help, and I do what I can. Nothing more.”

Finance manager Seyi A. agrees. “Help, but don’t self-destruct. You can’t pour from an empty account. You’re not the government. The best help is sustainable help. Give what doesn’t deplete your finances.”

Sustainable help doesn’t always have to be cash. It could be connecting someone to a job, sharing information, offering mentorship, or even emotional support.

The nuance is that you’re still generous, but you also take care to watch out for your survival. In a country where inflation is a significant concern, and many live without financial buffers, the expectation that one person will carry the burden of many is unfair. Because if everybody owes everybody, no one truly rests.

And in a country where help is both a virtue and a burden, learning when to stop giving might just be the kindest thing we do for ourselves and for each other.

Perhaps the new lens is this: generosity remains a virtue, but entitlement should not be the default.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

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After years of showing up for everyone, paying black tax and putting herself last, Motun* (30) decided to do something radical for her 30th birthday: choose herself.

In this story, she shares how she spent her entire savings over a weekend, and why she has no regrets.

This is Motun’s story, as told to Boluwatife

On the morning after my birthday weekend, I woke up in a fluffy white robe, body sore from dancing. The first thing I did was turn on my phone.

The screen lit up, and my eye caught a debit alert from my bank. I’d gotten similar alerts all weekend and deliberately ignored them. But I couldn’t run away from reality anymore.

My account balance read ₦18,710. I was aggressively broke.

My heart sank. My body wanted to go into panic mode. But then I took a deep breath. I knew why I’d done it. I chose it, and I’d do it again.

People say money can’t buy happiness, but I decided to buy my own happiness this year. I turned 30, and was sure I didn’t want to stick to my tradition of doing things lowkey.

Usually, the most I do for my birthday is buy a cake and take pictures with my family and friends. If I wanted to do more, I’d buy a pair of shoes I’d been eyeing for months. I always told myself I didn’t need to spend money to have a good time. There were more important things to spend on.

This year, I didn’t want “affordable” joy; I wanted the full experience, and that’s what I did during my birthday weekend. At the end, I spent just over ₦2 million. And no, I’m not rich; not even close. I’m just a brand manager earning ₦450k/month. But for once, I made myself the priority.

Why? I was tired of performing survival and prioritising everyone except myself.

I’m the first child of four, born and raised in a household where the idea of luxury was eating Mr Biggs’ meatpie and ice cream on birthdays. I started contributing to the family income right after NYSC in 2018.

While some people were building savings or buying new clothes to treat themselves, I was paying rent for my retired parents, covering hospital bills for my sister, who lives with sickle cell, and scraping every naira to survive.

Every debit alert had a purpose. Once my salary hit, I had to sort out my family first before thinking of anything else. It wasn’t always easy, but I have to say I wasn’t obligated to play this role; it just felt like love. It didn’t make sense that my family should struggle when I was in a position to help.

I wasn’t carrying all the burdens alone. My immediate younger brother also pitched in when he could. If the economy had been better and my sister had been healthier, the financial burden wouldn’t have been that much. Perhaps I’d have been able to still have a life while assisting my family. Unfortunately, that’s what life threw at us.

That said, I don’t regret any of it. Again, it’s my family, and I couldn’t abandon them. But somewhere along the line, I forgot what it meant to do something for myself. Not just keeping a ₦20k shoe or dress in my wishlist for months and using my birthday as the only reasonable excuse to buy it, but something radically joyful that didn’t serve anyone but me.

One day in 2023, it really hit me that I needed to pay more attention to my needs. I spent weeks agonising over whether to drop ₦12k on photochromic glasses.

The constant headaches I got from working on my laptop were enough proof to buy them, but I still hesitated.

Around the same period, a family need came up and I sent ₦20k without thinking twice. I remember thinking, “I have to learn how to choose myself.”

So, when I hit 30, it wasn’t just a birthday. It was a quiet rebellion.

I saved for almost two years. When I intentionally started saving in 2023, the goal wasn’t to spend it all on my birthday. I just wanted to put something aside to call my own. So, even when the black tax requests piled in, I ensured they didn’t affect my ₦20k – ₦30k monthly savings.

The idea to spend it all on my 30th birthday materialised early this year. By then, I had just about ₦500k in savings, but I unexpectedly got two freelance projects back-to-back that brought me about ₦1.5m.

I considered locking up the money somewhere in case of any family emergency, but someone posted their birthday celebration on Instagram, and the idea came to me: What better way to shake off the shackles of responsibility and force myself to live for me than doing something extremely crazy?

So, I started planning. I didn’t tell anyone about my windfall to avoid the temptation of dipping into it to help them if they returned with a request.

I booked a photographer whose work I’d admired for the longest time. Dropping ₦350k for a birthday shoot caused me actual chest pain, but there was no going back. That same day, I bought a wig and closed my eyes as I pressed “send” on the ₦600k transaction.

My birthday was still a few months away, but I worried I’d talk myself into not spending the money if I let it sit in my account. So, I went all out. I got a new dress, had my makeup done and got the most stunning pictures I’ve ever seen in my life. I still look at those pictures occasionally to remind myself I’m a gorgeous babe.

When my birthday actually came, I booked a beachfront apartment for the weekend and hung out with my best friend. We got food, took pictures and videos, explored activities, curated a Spotify playlist and danced like we had no worries.

The final bill, including the pre-birthday shoot and expenses, was just over ₦2m. It would have been more, but my best friend shared some of the weekend getaway expenses (mostly the food). The whole affair seriously depleted my savings, but I regret nothing.

Okay, maybe I regretted it for about five minutes when I saw my account balance. But I enjoyed the experience. I wanted to spend money without doing mental maths or worrying about having enough left to survive or provide for my family.

I gave to myself with the same intensity and intentionality I’ve given to everyone else for years.

Somehow, I survived the remaining few days of that month with the ₦18,710 in my account before my salary came. Sure, I drank garri more than a few times, but I didn’t die.

Was the birthday splurge selfish or even foolish? Maybe. But I think I deserve to be selfish and foolish a few times in this adult life. I’ve always made sensible decisions and shown up for other people. It was the first time I showed up for myself.

Would I do it again? Maybe not any time soon. My bank account deserves a sabbatical. For now, I’ll focus on getting more freelance projects and growing my account to the point where ₦2m no longer feels like big money.

However, I can say I’m no longer waiting for permission to live beautifully. After everything I’ve given to others, I deserve softness, too — not as a reward for hard work, but as my baseline.

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: 6 Nigerians on the Cost of Keeping Up Appearances

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Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

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What’s your earliest memory of money?

When I was around 8 or 10, I stole Christmas lights. Scratch that, I “took” them from my mum’s shop. This was around Christmas, and my school wanted us to bring random stuff. So, I thought, “Let me just take this thing.”

My mum’s salesgirl told her, and when my mum asked me if I’d paid, I said I did. Well, she already knew I didn’t, and the lie pissed her off. She beat me silly.

Yikes. Do you remember how much the lights cost?

They were about ₦400 or ₦500. I remember thinking that the money wasn’t big enough for that level of beating.

It wasn’t like we were struggling or anything. My dad worked with one of the foremost NGOs in the country, and my mum worked with the state government. My dad’s job took him to different states and countries, and I sometimes went on these trips with him.

One of the fondest things I remember from my childhood was breakfast time. You know how a family typically shares a can of sardines? For us, each person had a can of sardines. I didn’t taste NASCO cornflakes until I became an adult. It was always Kellogg’s. Now, I consider these things a luxury, but they felt pretty standard then.

When was the first time you worked to earn money?

2013. I was fresh out of university, interning at a broadcasting company, when I decided to try my hand at business.

My business idea was to buy earrings and fashion accessories from Jumia and resell them for a profit. My mum loaned me ₦20k to buy a few items to start, but I don’t think I made one naira profit from that business. In hindsight, it was either a stupid business idea or I was just a bad business person.

I sold some items, didn’t get paid for some, dashed some to people and wore the rest. The business was dead on arrival. My mum dragged me for her money for years because I never repaid her. Any small thing, “You’re not creditworthy.”

I’m honestly not sure why I thought to try a business; I’d been terrible with money at uni. I had at least one big money-related issue almost every year.

Now you have to do a story time

My money “scandals” were usually about me using money that wasn’t mine, giving it out, or getting scammed. One time, I used people’s money to pay some children’s JAMB fees.

The JAMB fee wahala happened when I held my department’s money. We were contributing money for something, and I used the money to help a group of kids sort out JAMB registration. The department money was about ₦70k, and I figured I’d gather my ₦10k weekly pocket money to repay them when needed.

However, I couldn’t save the money back because one expense or another kept coming up, and by the time they needed it, I didn’t have anything. I had to start running up and down to look for money. It was a whole thing.

Another time in 200 level, someone gave me some earrings to sell for her. When it became time for her to collect her money, I didn’t have her money or the goods. She later brought the police to arrest me.

You say?

See, I don’t even know how it happened. The thing was, I just kept dashing people the earrings. Someone would come and say, “I love these earrings,” and I’d go, “Oh, you can have one. I’ll pay for it.” That’s how everything finished, and I didn’t see money to pay back. When she arrested me, they called my dad, and he paid the money and bailed me out. My dad was so mad. I think he beat me sef.

Besides my money issues. I lived above my means a lot in school. ₦10k/week wasn’t measly for a student in 2008 – 2013, but after I spent money on food and gave the rest out, I’d be broke before Friday. My mum always said I had my dad’s spending habits. My dad is a terrible spender, while my mum is the house’s “manager”. When my dad has money, the whole world knows. He just spends. So, I guess I got that through genetics.

Back to the internship. Was it paid?

It wasn’t. I got it through an uncle, and it was more like, “Go to this place, ask for this person, and they’ll put you somewhere.”

I started by running errands, and then I moved on to reading the news on the radio and TV. I worked there without a salary for about two years. Then, in 2015, I attended a three-month training with the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria — my parents paid the ₦120k-ish fee.

After I completed it, I returned to work and asked them to start paying me a salary or I’d leave. They agreed, but rather than a proper salary, they paid me a ₦17,500/month production fee for the programs I produced on the radio.

Around this period, I also got random voiceover gigs for a presidential candidate’s campaign. It was election season, so the gigs came a few times. Payment wasn’t a specific amount, though. Sometimes, they’d pay ₦100k. Other times ₦200k or ₦500k.

Nice. What did you do with this windfall?

For the first time in my life, I saved everything I made. It grew to ₦3.5m, and then I got scammed. Maybe I shouldn’t say scammed because it was an adult situation that I walked into. I wanted to buy a radio station license, and my uncle told me he could help. That’s how I gave him the money, and it disappeared.

Wait. Disappeared how?

Let me explain. I was living with this uncle/family friend at the time. He was one of the people who started the broadcast organisation I worked with, and he’d got me in. He knew about the industry, and I had a lifelong dream of running a radio station for girls.

I didn’t have plans for how to get a building or other things. I just had that money and thought, “Let me start with the license first.” My uncle promised to help with it, so I gave him the money. I never saw the money again, and didn’t get the license either.

I don’t think he ever intended to get me a license because I later discovered the real cost was about ₦15m. He probably needed the money and just came up with an excuse to get it.

But did you ask him for your money?

I asked about the license after some weeks when I didn’t get any update, and he just looked at me like, “License ko, license ni.” Like, “What is this one saying?” The situation was like, since I was living with him and he was providing for me, what else did I need?

I told my parents about the situation, but everyone kept quiet. No one addressed the situation, as if we all just pretended it didn’t happen. By this time, I was around 22 and already dreamed of becoming Nigeria’s youngest radio station owner.

I really felt cheated. This was money I’d made and kept for a particular reason, but I couldn’t even ask about it. He’s still a very close friend of my family to this day.

That’s wild

After this, I went for NYSC and served in the military. This was still 2015. I worked in the public relations department, and they paid ₦5k every other month in addition to the ₦19800 allawee from NYSC. I say “every other month” because there were some months the military didn’t pay us.

Service year was a struggle. I went from earning north of ₦100k from voiceovers to managing ₦24800 monthly. Thankfully, the military provided accommodation, but I had to juggle my income around transportation, food and other expenses.

After NYSC, I worked at an FMCG company for one year. My job was to go around offering discounts to people and getting them to sign up as vendors with the company. My salary was ₦40k/month, and I left in 2017 after they fired everybody.

Fired everybody?

See, it’s a long story. The place was very problematic; people came to physical blows one day. So, they fired everyone and asked people who wanted to continue working to reapply. I didn’t reapply.

At this point, I’d gone back to live with my uncle, and he put me in another TV station. There, I produced shows and presented programs for a stipend at the end of the month. Sometimes, ₦20k. Other times, ₦25k.

I didn’t really take the job seriously because of the no-salary situation. I was processing my admission for a master’s degree in a different state, so I was always travelling.

I was also job-hunting, and a few months into the TV station job, I got a job with a politician. I was on his public relations team, and he paid me ₦70k/month, then increased it to ₦80k after three months. I worked with him for six months and stopped when I had to relocate for my master’s program in 2018.

How were you funding your studies?

My parents paid the fees and my house rent, plus a ₦20k monthly allowance. I also started writing news stories for an online platform for ₦40k/month. I worked there for two years until COVID hit, and my employer said they didn’t have money to pay me anymore.

I was still doing my master’s program then — I didn’t finish that program until 2022/2023 because of the pandemic and numerous strikes, but that’s another story. Anyway, when my writing job turned out the way it did, I decided to sell perfume oils because I needed money.

Was this business better than your first attempt at selling stuff?

It was. The lockdown wasn’t too serious in my area, so I could move around and sell to people. A friend also introduced me to a China import group, so I bought the goods from there at a better price.

I can’t remember exactly how much I was making from the business. However, I also joined a ₦20k/month ajo group, and my monthly profits usually covered my contribution, and I had enough left to survive for the month. I did that business for about a year.

During this period, I did a number of random things for money. I managed a coworking space for ₦40k/month for three months, and I did some ghostwriting and editing here and there for the occasional ₦10k – ₦20k.

In 2021, I applied to an energy company and got hired as the southwest manager. Essentially, I manage the business in the southwest region of the country. My salary was ₦200k/month, and it felt like an answered prayer. I mean, I was coming from ₦40k.

A very welcome income boost

A much-needed one at that. My parents had stopped paying my rent and allowance since 2020, so I was fending for myself. ₦200k was a lot of money. For context, rent was ₦220k/year, and my living expenses weren’t so high because where I lived was relatively affordable.

I had a lot more disposable income and could afford food, clothes and anything else I wanted. I sort of returned to my 2013 self, where I was giving out and spending money just because I had it.

I still work at the same company, and my salary has grown to at least ₦550k/month. I usually get more than that from logistics allowances and random bonuses, sometimes close to ₦1m, but my basic salary is ₦550k.

How has your income growth over the years impacted how you think about money?

It hasn’t really made my financial planning or habits better. I just know there’s money in the world, and you’ll be fine if you increase your earnings. But that financial planning part? I haven’t gotten the hang of it. Every month, I try to stick to a budget, but I rarely succeed.

I don’t think I live above my means, though. Maybe I’ve overstretched my means. I don’t eat out daily anymore, and I try to be conscious of my spending. That said, my guilty pleasure is travel. I just want to be out of the country every time.

I’d describe myself as a broke babe living rich. I’m always in one country or the other, but it’s not like I have money. People see my travel posts on WhatsApp and automatically assume I’m rich. Meanwhile, I’m scraping money together to fund my trips.

How often do you travel?

I travel every month. Most of these trips are to Nigerian states, and then I can do some in neighbouring African countries. I make sure to do at least one big trip yearly, usually to London.

I budget for my London trips, but I don’t budget for the rest. I just go whenever the money I have is enough to go somewhere. Even my London budget sometimes comes together erratically. I can throw ₦150k in my savings app this month and ₦200k when next I have money.

Sometimes when I want to travel and the money isn’t enough, I can pull out whatever I’ve saved for house rent and use it to travel. That sounds horrible, but I believe in using my money to do what I want to do.

Interesting. I was going to ask about your relationship with money, but you might have answered already

Haha. My relationship with money is horrible. It’s a “I make money, I see money, I use it” situation. I’m not a savings person, but I’m trying to become better at savings and investments.

I’ve tried to save money every month this year. So, I can say I’m getting better. It was much worse before. If I wasn’t spending money, I was giving it out or lending it to people. I just believe money shouldn’t be lying around. If I or someone else needs it, I should be able to let it go.

I currently have about ₦7m in bad debt, and I don’t think I’ll get my money back. In fact, I’m servicing a ₦1.2m loan I took on behalf of someone who doesn’t have the money to pay back. So, the bank removes ₦118k from my account monthly. I’ve decided I’ll no longer lend anyone money I can’t let go of.

Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

I use an investment platform, and the ₦20k monthly usually goes into dollars and stocks. Sometimes, if I have extra money, I also put it there. I currently have $300 in my dollar account and ₦130k in Nigerian stocks. Everyone’s talking about planning for retirement, so this is my way of gradually building something I can fall back on in the future.

I have about $500 in loose cash around my house; I like to keep it because of my frequent travels. Then I have about ₦165k in a savings app. I don’t have much of a savings portfolio because I always use it to travel. Also, my rent is now ₦800k/year, but I really don’t actively save monthly for it. I just handle rent based on vibes and Inshallah.

Black tax isn’t in my budget because there’s no specific amount. I send my parents about ₦20k or ₦30k every other month. They have money; they don’t need mine. However, I have a constant battle with my mum over her insistence that I pay them a monthly salary. We fight every month, but I don’t plan to yield.

Is there a reason why you don’t want to?

They earn way more than I do. My dad earns over ₦5m, and my mum probably makes at least ₦200k daily from her supermarket. They also have a pig farm that brings them money. They don’t need my ₦30k monthly for anything. My dad has no problem with it; it’s just my mum. She nags every month, and we don’t talk for a few days or weeks, then we move on and resume again the next month.

Skrim. Is there an ideal amount you think you should be earning right now?

My income is relatively fair for my industry, but an ideal monthly income would be ₦5m. I could easily make that if I took my voiceovers seriously. I still get gigs like once in three months, and I charge at least $300 for them. If I put in more work, I could make as much as $1k monthly from voiceovers.

How about something you want right now but can’t afford?

I’d like to change my car, but the one I want — a 2024 Toyota Camry — costs about ₦22m when I priced it last year.

What’s one thing you’d wish to be better at, concerning your finances?

I want to be better at making money. Then, I want to be better at putting away money monthly. Not like ₦10k or ₦20k, but to comfortably set aside ₦500k towards my future.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

5. I don’t struggle to meet my basic needs, but I know I can do better.

If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

Yes, I want to do a Naira Life!

Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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Dinah* (29) had to step up financially after her dad’s income loss and eventual death worsened her family’s financial situation. In this story, she talks about turning to loans to fill the income gap. Although she’s grateful she can support her family, she also resents that her sister has it easier.

As Told To Boluwatife

As a firstborn daughter, I started subconsciously putting my two sisters’ needs ahead of my own from a young age.

At first, it was the small things, like sometimes giving them my snacks when they begged after eating theirs. It was also the occasional big things, like when I was 13 and allowed my 11-year-old sister to wear my Christmas clothes because she was upset that my dad had accidentally burnt hers.

I don’t remember my parents pressuring me to do those things. The most they did was encourage me to be a good example to my sisters. They didn’t explicitly say, “Put them first,” but I took the “be a good example” advice to mean that as well.

I started giving my sisters money when I was in uni. My youngest sister was in JSS 1, and she asked for money the most. It wasn’t serious money, though. Whenever we talked, she’d ask me to buy her something, and I’d send ₦2k or ₦3k through my mum or my second sister.

In 2020, just as I completed NYSC, my father ran into money problems. The lockdown affected his import business, and then he made a bad investment choice that wiped out his savings. My mum stepped in, but her salary as a teacher struggled to fill the gap my dad’s income loss left. We were broke.

To make matters worse, my immediate younger sister was in a private uni, and my youngest sister was just about to enter. The financial burden was a lot, and even though my parents tried their hardest to provide, I could tell they were struggling.

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

My mum sold her car, and she stopped attending parties. My mum is the biggest owambe Nigerian aunty ever, and her inability to buy aso-ebi and souvenirs to attend her parties was the biggest indicator that everything wasn’t okay.

Fortunately, I got my first job almost immediately after NYSC. My ₦180k salary wasn’t huge, but it gave me some independence. I didn’t have to add to the financial burden at home; more importantly, I could support my family.

I started chipping in for expenses at home: food, gas, electricity and utility bills. Things weren’t back to normal, but we were surviving.

Then, in 2021, my dad died.

We had to deal with two different types of grief: grief from losing my dad, and grief from relatives who swooped in like vultures to reap where they didn’t sow. The main bone of contention was our house.

My dad had built it before he married my mum, and his brother (my uncle) had contributed financially to the building. My uncle even had some of the land documents, and after my dad died, he attempted to take ownership. When the wahala became too much, my mum decided to leave the house for him.

Our financial responsibilities increased from just trying to survive and pay school fees to paying rent. My mum took on extra after-school tutorials to make more money, but it wasn’t enough.

My two sisters’ private university tuition ran into millions. My immediate younger sister worked several jobs in school to support herself, but my youngest sister didn’t have that advantage. She relied on whatever she got from home.

In 2022, I took a loan for the first time to pay part of my youngest sister’s school fees. Her university allowed us to pay the tuition fees in instalments, but at that point, we were owing ₦300k, and exams were close.

My mum couldn’t find money anywhere, and out of the blue, my bank sent me an email that I was eligible for a quick loan. I took out ₦310k and repaid it in six months. But before I finished repaying that one, I took another “quick” ₦100k loan from a loan app. Why? The repayment schedule from my bank reduced my monthly income to about ₦100k, which hardly covered my transportation and living expenses.

That’s where the loan cycle started. The loans were supposed to be emergency options until my salary came, but I was drowning in a sea of interest rates and repayments. I was taking loans from one place to repay another loan. At my lowest, I was owing seven different loan apps a total of ₦800k and fielding harassment calls from their loan collectors.

Things didn’t improve even after I changed jobs in 2024 and started earning ₦300k. My mum also had to take it easy at work because of a lingering wound from a domestic accident — she has diabetes, which affected the wound healing process— so I became the de facto breadwinner.

I often feel like my youngest sister doesn’t fully appreciate the extent to which my mum and I went to secure her education. This babe called me early this year for ₦350k for final year week celebrations. She wanted to buy a dinner gown, do her hair, and take pictures. She knows I complain about loans, but somehow, she just expects me to come through for her.

She has finally graduated, and I’m glad to be free of the financial burden. However, I’m still stuck in a loan cycle. I owe two different loan apps a total of ₦408k, and I borrow from another at least once a month. I think it’s an addiction because I literally can’t do without loans. My salary doesn’t last two weeks, and I must borrow money to stay afloat.

I’ve tried to mentally calculate how I can afford to be debt-free and not have to take loans anymore, but the only way that’ll work is if I can double my income to ₦600k or ₦700k. With the level I am now, it’s not possible.

I can’t really blame anyone for my financial situation. No one forced me to take the responsibility, and I’m grateful I could support my mum and siblings. That said, I can’t help feeling some sort of resentment towards my youngest sister. She got to live a soft life and will probably never have to worry about providing for any sibling.

Why didn’t I also have the luck of coming as a lastborn? Why did my dad have to die? Did I do too much for my family? Will I ever make sense of my finances?

I’ll probably never have answers to these questions, so it’s best not to dwell on them. I just have to focus on trying to live for myself now and see what my life can be without black tax lurking in the shadows.

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Spent ₦1.6m Serving Bridesmaid Duties 8 Times in 11 Months

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The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

How long have you been with your partner?

I’ve been married for 8 years, but Flora and I dated for two years before we got married. That’s 10 years altogether.

How did you and Flora meet?

We met at the university in 2015. I was a final-year student, and Flora just got in through direct entry. We weren’t in the same department, but I noticed she attended the same all-night class with me. I thought she was pretty, so I drew close and became friends.

After we became friends, she revealed the real reason she attended the all-night classes: she had no accommodation. I offered to let her squat with me and my roommate, and she agreed. A few weeks into the arrangement, feelings entered, and we started dating.

My roommate moved out when we graduated later that year, and Flora and I continued living together.

What was cohabiting like so early in the relationship?

It was quite smooth. I’m the eldest child and have six sisters, so I understand how to live with women and manage their small wahala. Flora doesn’t even have wahala like that. She’s always been an understanding woman.

She knew I didn’t have money, and we were happy with whatever I gave her to cook. When I had money to take her out, we went out — mostly to Chicken Republic, the beach or the cinema. When I didn’t have money, we stayed home and looked at each other.

Were the “no money” situations regular?

In the beginning, yes. Flora didn’t earn anything; the expenses were on me. As a student, I made money by running errands for an older family friend. He worked with the federal government, and I wanted to get a government job through his connections, so I hung around his office.

I survived on the random ₦5k or ₦10k he gave me for errands, which included taking his car to the mechanic, sorting out hotel rooms for his girlfriends or driving them around at midnight. My hard work eventually paid off because I can trace my career path to the man’s help.

He connected me to the company where I did my NYSC, and I’ve worked with them since 2015. The job also contributed to us getting married in 2017.

How so?

Flora got pregnant, and her parents said their family members couldn’t have children out of wedlock. They wanted us to marry before she gave birth. If I didn’t have a job, I’d have pushed back because how would I even care for a family?

But I was earning ₦55k/month, and I figured we’d make it work. So, we had a small traditional wedding. Our families also supported us, and after the wedding, we had enough to move out of my one-room student hostel into a ₦100k/year room and parlour apartment.

Flora was rounding up her final year, so I paid ₦60k for her to learn hairdressing to make money and support our home. There was no point looking for a job because it’d be difficult to juggle it with a child when she gave birth. My job often took me out of town, so she needed a flexible job.

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

Did you both discuss how you’d split the home’s expenses?

We did, but it wasn’t much of a split. She made small money here and there from braiding, which was enough to handle some personal needs like toiletries. I handled rent and feeding.

We’ve maintained the same arrangement over the years. However, our dynamic changed slightly in 2023 when my company transferred me to Edo state. Flora stayed back in Asaba, so travel costs have joined our expenses. We travel to see each other at least twice a month.

Flora now has a hair salon, so she pays for food and her transportation when she visits. I send money for school fees and pay the ₦400k rent for our apartment in Asaba.

Out of curiosity, is travelling back and forth cheaper than living together in the same city?

It’s not. The thing is, my two youngest sisters live with me in Edo. In 2023, we lost our family house to some family issues, and since my company provided accommodation, I told my sisters to join me. The plan was for Flora to rent out her salon in a few months and move to join me, but when she heard my sisters had moved in, she refused to come.

Why?

She said she didn’t want to live with her in-laws. If there’s one thing Flora and I hardly agree on, it’s my sisters. Since I started earning a bit more money, I’ve been financially supporting my sisters, and Flora doesn’t like it. She can’t stop me, but she murmurs.

I’ve tried to explain that I can’t watch my sisters suffer without helping them, but I don’t think she understands. She says I shouldn’t always respond to their billing. Whichever way, it’s my money, and no one can dictate what I do with it. But I’m deliberately not pushing on this living-apart issue.

I understand my wife’s concerns about living with her in-laws, and I know it won’t be fair to force her to agree. But I can’t send my sisters packing or afford to rent an apartment for them. They’re almost done with uni, so I know they’ll leave sooner or later.

Right

Also, I’m not paying for my apartment here, so we’re not incurring double expenses. I don’t give Flora food money because I’ve told her I can’t pay for food here and in Asaba. She can come here if she knows she can’t handle the bills alone. At least I pay school fees and rent.

I’m considering not paying this year’s rent because it’s a waste of money. Maybe I’ve been too understanding. It’s already been almost two years since we started living apart. I need to put my foot down and stop this child’s play we’re doing.

Hm. I hope that chat goes well. Speaking of, what kind of money conversations do you both have?

They’re mostly about what our two children need or things to fix in the house. Sometimes, when her business isn’t good, we discuss it, and I support her financially. But that doesn’t happen all the time.

Flora knows how to manage, so money is not a big issue. She can even settle bills around the house without asking me. The only comma is when she complains about me giving my sisters money. But I think she’s learning to keep her concerns to herself.

How do you both plan for romance while living apart?

We don’t do that much anymore because of the distance, work, and the children. Sometimes, when the children are on holiday, we visit malls or playgrounds. I can’t remember the last time Flora and I went out alone. But sometimes, she calls and tells me she’s craving one kind of food, and I send her money if I have it. That’s usually around ₦10k.

What about gifts for special occasions?

We don’t do gifts. If I ask my wife what she wants for her birthday, she’ll say money, so I don’t bother to ask. I’ll just send her ₦15k or ₦20k or buy her data on her birthday or maybe Valentine’s Day. She does the same for me.

Do you both have safety nets?

She’s a woman, so I know she’ll have savings. Women are always keeping money for one thing or another. Plus, my wife isn’t the spending type. She can manage for Africa, so I’m sure she has backup savings somewhere.

I have so many responsibilities that there is no space for savings. I’m always broke by the middle of the month. Most times, loans from friends and loan apps take me through the month. I also gamble sometimes, and I make extra money here and there.

Also, I do small procurement runs under the table at work, which gives me around ₦150k extra monthly. I know I make money, but responsibilities carry everything.

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

We’d like to relocate. Another reason I want her to move in with me is so she can take advantage of my sisters’ presence to go to nursing school. At least they can watch the children while she focuses on school. Then we can work on her finding a nursing job abroad so we can all japa together.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: The Second Wife Who’s Pursuing Financial Independence on a ₦280k/Month Income

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For years, Gabriella*(30) spent all her income providing for her family of eight. Things changed when she hit a rough patch in 2024, lost her life savings and had to move back home.

In this story, she shares how her family turned on her because of her reduced financial capability, which has taught her a valuable lesson.

This is Gabriella’s story, as told to Boluwatife

My family situation has always been somewhat unusual.

As a child, I grew up with my grandparents because my parents had separated. I only started living with my dad and his family when my mum passed away in 2007. Then, he lost his job in the civil service a few years later, which signalled the beginning of a financial struggle that lasted for years.

Things nosedived quickly, and even feeding became difficult. My dad’s job loss was due to some fraud allegations, so he spent all his time fighting to be reinstated into the civil service. When he wasn’t doing that, he took on menial jobs while my step-mum tried to foot the bills.

I would’ve been a secondary school dropout if not for relatives from my mum’s family who periodically stepped in to pay my fees. Their goodwill pushed me to the university in 2012, but I knew that was where it ended — I needed to find a way to fend for myself if I hoped to get a university education.

I found a job marketing for a laundromat, but my ₦10k/month salary barely kept me afloat. During school holidays, I travelled to help my aunt with her boutique so she’d give me foodstuff and clothes when it was time to return to school.

Somehow, I managed to pay myself through uni and NYSC. Then, in 2018, I returned home and took up a ₦22k/month receptionist job. That’s when my responsibilities started.

My dad still hadn’t gotten a stable job, and the number of mouths to feed at home had increased. I have four siblings, and one of my sisters got pregnant and had a baby, so everyone had to support her. By “everyone”, I mean me. The whole house lived on my ₦22k salary. Tips usually brought the total figure to around ₦60k, almost all of which went into providing for the home.

The only bill I didn’t pay was rent, and it was because we lived in our own house. Every other thing was on me. I even gave my step-mum my ATM card to withdraw money at will. My workplace didn’t allow staff to use phones at work, and I didn’t want to be unreachable if they needed to buy baby food.

It’s not like I was excited to give all my money away. I felt drained, constantly telling myself I couldn’t afford anything because my family needed the money. I didn’t like being unable to move out or afford a master’s degree, but I had to consider my nephew. If I didn’t take care of the family, he’d starve.

However, I knew I had to move out if I hoped to reduce my responsibilities at home. So, I started deliberately keeping money aside for a new apartment. My tips grew my income over the years to an average of ₦100k/month, and I stopped depositing the full amount into my account. My stepmum still had the ATM card, so I ensured the account always had at least ₦50k.

By 2022, I’d saved enough money to move out. Fortunately, my dad also got reinstated into the civil service that year, and things started looking up. I left the hotel and did a two-month stint as an executive assistant at an NGO for ₦30k/month before moving to a travel agency for ₦80k/month.

My responsibilities at home reduced — I also collected my ATM card back — but my siblings still often called for money, and I always answered. By January 2024, I decided I was tired of working for people. Up until then, I’d always worked in toxic environments. I thought starting a business and being my own boss would be better.

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

I had ₦800k in savings, and I decided it was enough to move to Uyo and start an interior decoration business selling raffia mats and designs. The idea of moving states came from two reasons.

First, I wanted to rebuild my life from somewhere new. Secondly, Uyo was better for my business. I could source raffia materials there at a cheaper price and maximise profits. I just needed to relocate, buy a few samples and post them on social media to get clients. It felt like a solid plan.

My sister stayed in Uyo, so she helped me get an apartment. I paid ₦250k for the rent and total package, and another ₦60k to move my things from our state to Uyo. The rest of the money was supposed to get basic furniture and start my business. But things didn’t exactly go as planned.

First of all, the apartment was completely terrible. I didn’t see the house before paying; I only got pictures. It was also after the issues started that my sister said she hadn’t visited the house either. She just saw the pictures and told me to pay.

It rained the first night I spent in the house, and the whole place leaked all night. The rain destroyed all my properties. When I tried to get a refund, it turned out that the previous tenant had inflated the rent by ₦100k and run away with the money. I tried every means to locate him, but he’s still at large. Even the ₦150k actual rent, I didn’t get back because the landlord claimed he didn’t do refunds and that he’d fix the roof. He never did.

I spent about three months in that house, during which time I had to arrange my mattress in one corner because of the terrible leaks and wake up several times during the night to pack water to stop the room from flooding.

There was also no electricity in the whole area, and I had to spend ₦500 almost daily to charge my phone and power bank. The lack of sleep and stress soon began to tell on me, and I was constantly sick and spending all my money on medication.

I couldn’t even push the business because I was always tired and frustrated. My phone was also constantly low because of the power situation, and customers couldn’t reach me.

Ultimately, I lost motivation, packed my things and moved back to my dad’s house in September 2024.

I came back with zero naira to my name. Since then, I’ve been trying to get into remote work. I’ve taken a few courses and gotten a few remote customer service gigs, but income hasn’t been consistent. My finances aren’t how they used to be, and my family’s new behaviour is a constant reminder.

My dad’s finances are stable now, and while I’m glad no one has to depend on me anymore, I can’t help but notice my family treats me differently now that they don’t “need” me. The respect is gone.

Besides my dad, everyone looks at me like someone who prefers to depend on them rather than go outside to work and make money. They don’t grasp the possibility of making money from home.

Last month, I travelled to my sister’s school to check on her because she was ill. One night, she left her phone charging on the floor, and I accidentally came across some messages between her and my other sister in Uyo.

I couldn’t believe what I read. My sisters were discussing me and saying things like, “If she had a job she was doing, would she leave the house to come and look after you in school?” They said my mates were travelling out and having something stable in their lives, while I was comfortable sitting in my father’s house.

They also said I hadn’t done anything for them, forgetting that at some point, I literally carried the burden of the whole family. Despite my financial situation, I still sent them money sometimes, but I guess it stopped being enough.

I’m really pained by how my family turned on me so quickly, but it’s also fuelling my determination to get something stable again. I’m working hard to improve my skills and land well-paying remote jobs so I can afford to move out again — permanently, this time.

I spent my 20s looking after family, and in just a few months of financial hardship, they turned their backs on me. I’m working towards improving my finances, and when that happens, I don’t intend to be responsible for anyone ever again.

I’ll never take on anyone’s bills anymore because ultimately, they’ll throw my help to my face if anything goes wrong and make it look like I never did anything. They’ve taught me a lesson, and it’s good I know where I stand now. My breadwinner days are over.

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: My Family Resents Me for Becoming the Breadwinner After My Parents Retired

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Black tax is part and parcel of Nigerian society, but what happens when a child decides enough is enough?

In this story, Jola* (27) shares how her overwhelming need to please her barely present father pushed her into a black tax cycle. In 2024, some revelations caused her to withdraw her financial support, leading to her dad disowning her.

As told to Boluwatife

I didn’t live with my dad growing up. My mum was his second wife, and he provided a separate apartment for her and her kids, while he lived with the first wife. As a result, I only saw him once or twice a month when he came visiting, and I idolised him.

You couldn’t convince 9-year-old me that my dad wasn’t a superhero. He always came visiting with sweets and ₦500 notes. Whenever I got the first position in school, he’d show up with a pineapple for me because I loved the fruit so much.

I thought my dad was the greatest man in the world. It wasn’t until I got into secondary school that I realised he wasn’t all that great.

I think my mum got tired of buying me things in my dad’s name and hearing me disturb everyone with “My daddy” up and down, so she started letting me see that my dad wasn’t as involved as I thought.

Despite his lucrative electronics business, my dad only took financial responsibility for our needs when he was on good terms with my mum. I knew that because my mum began regularly complaining about it. She was forced to provide for our needs and sometimes rent almost solely on the income she earned selling fabrics in the market.

Interestingly, learning about my dad’s flaws triggered a need to please him and be in his good graces. I knew he wasn’t as present as he should be, but I thought if I could be the perfect daughter, he’d want to fulfil his responsibilities and ultimately be the perfect father I wanted him to be.

Now, I understand my reasoning was flawed, and I didn’t have to “do things” to make my dad become a better father. But for the longest time, I thought I needed to prove myself worthy for my dad to change, and I tried to do that in several ways.

I focused on chasing good grades in secondary school and university because I wanted my dad to be proud of me. I remember taking my convocation gown and the ₦150k my faculty gave me for getting a first class to my dad’s house to take a picture with him. He didn’t even bother to attend my convocation. Yes, I gave him the money.

Money was one of the biggest tools I used to try to please my dad. I think it was stupidity because I don’t know why I fixated so much on making sure a man who never laboured over me reaped the fruits of his supposed labour.

My NYSC Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) was a law firm that paid me ₦150k/month in addition to my NYSC stipend. I didn’t even tell my mum how much my salary was, but I carried the whole first month’s salary and gave it to my dad so he’d pray for me. Subsequently, I sent him ₦40k monthly from my salary and only gave my mum ₦20k.

After my service year in 2022, I got a job close to my dad’s house, so I started living there to shorten my commute and save costs. By then, my dad was on his third wife — the first wife had left — and he had three more children under 11 years old. I thought it’d be great to finally spend time with my dad and become closer to my half-siblings.

It turned out to be a big mistake.

That same year, my dad got scammed out of about ₦10m and his business crashed. He told me how difficult things had gotten for him financially, and I foolishly told him not to worry, and that I’d try my best to support the home while he found his feet.

That’s how I became the breadwinner of that house. My job paid me ₦300k/month, and I put my dad on an ₦80k allowance. I also started pitching in for the home’s expenses. I was hardly home because of work, but my siblings always came to me for fuel money.

At least once in two weeks, my dad’s wife would come to me asking for ₦20k or ₦30k loans to cook for the house. I always gave her, and I never got my money back.

In 2023, I got a raise at work and my salary increased to ₦400k. I told my dad, and it’s like I gave him the perfect excuse not to bother doing anything again. I still gave him ₦80k every month, but somehow, it was no longer enough. Every two weeks, he’d ask for money to do one thing or another, and I’d give him.

I wasn’t even sending money to my mum. Although to be fair, I have two immediate older siblings who are more well off than I am, and they give her money — my mum honestly lacks nothing now and I’m so glad about that. But still, I can’t believe I did all that for my dad.

Towards the end of 2023, he took a ₦2m loan from a microfinance bank to start a fish farming business. Within three months, the fish suddenly became sick and started dying, so we had to dry and sell them off at a loss. I ended up paying most of that loan back from my salary over eight months.

In January 2024, I paid almost ₦200k in school fees for my three half-siblings (the third wife’s children) because I grew tired of seeing them stay home due to unpaid school fees. My dad claimed he didn’t have money, and since he doesn’t allow his wife to work — she’s a burqa-wearing woman and is always indoors — the responsibility essentially fell on me.

I was also still dropping money for food in the house and even paying for the children’s medication when they fell sick.

My eyes cleared in June 2024 after a series of events unfolded.

My dad’s wife reported him to me, claiming that my dad had gotten another woman pregnant. I didn’t want to believe it, so I confronted him, and my dad confidently said his religion allowed him to marry up to four wives.

I was so shocked. Your daughter is playing breadwinner duties, and you’re adding more responsibilities to your plate? No one told me before I started withdrawing financial support.

I gradually stopped his allowance and began to claim I didn’t have money whenever he asked. Of course, he knew I was lying, and it led to fights between us. I eventually moved out of his house and returned to my mum’s in August.

On my birthday in December, my dad sent me a text saying, “Since you have chosen to disrespect God by ignoring your father, just take it that you don’t have a father anymore.”

Honestly, that hurt me, and I almost called to ask for his forgiveness and try to settle our issues, but I had to be strong.

I know getting back in good terms with my dad will only push me back into a black tax cycle, and that’s not sustainable for me. It’s better to be disowned than not have any sense of direction in my finances.

Between 2022 and 2024, it was like I was just working with nothing to show for it. I even had a stint with loan apps because my salary never lasted the whole month. I had zero savings and was practically living hand to mouth. It took me coming out of that situation to realise how terribly I was living.

I have not taken a single loan since August 2024. Between October 2024 and February 2025, I built a savings portfolio of ₦800k. I managed that while deliberately setting aside money to buy myself nice things and hang out with friends. There’s no way I could have done that if I still carried my dad’s responsibilities on my head.

My mates were saving their salaries to buy cars and rent apartments, while I was bending over backwards to make an unserious man happy. I’m just glad I’ve finally seen the light. Let him disown me, I don’t care.

From now on, I’m team, “Use Jola’s money to make her happy.” I’m my own responsibility.

Zikoko readers are currently giving feedback about us this year. Join your voice to theirs by taking this 10-minute survey.

*Names have been changed for anonymity.

NEXT READ: My Younger Brother Has More Money Than I Do. I Hate That

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

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Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

When did you first realise the importance of money?

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I visited my older married sister, who lived in a different city. Her house had toilets and running water. Until then, I’d spent my whole life in a riverine hamlet in Bayelsa State where everyone fetched water and eased themselves in a public place.

I cried when I returned home after the holiday at my sister’s. I knew my real life was far from what I’d experienced, and money was the difference.

What was money like at home?

There wasn’t any. My father was a fisherman with two wives and many children, while my mum dried and sold the fish. One day, just before I started primary school, my father left us to fend for ourselves.

I spent most of primary school living with one family member or another to ease my mum’s load. The family members weren’t always nice to me, though. One time, I needed ₦600 to register for my first school leaving examination, and my uncle claimed he didn’t have money.

I knew he did; he just didn’t want to give it to me. He also had a habit of berating me when he was angry and telling me it was my fault my dad left.

The heck?

My headmaster finally paid the ₦600, and I wrote the exam. This was in 2005.

In the same year, the military burnt down our village. They came because some bad boys in the community caused a riot. The soldiers were supposed to “make peace”, but they killed multiple people. Subsequently, my family split up for a year.

My mum fled to a different village, while I, along with my dad’s first wife and her children, went to another town, where we lived as refugees. I couldn’t attend school, so I hawked pepper soup and plantain to survive. When we eventually returned to our village, I lived with yet another family member to continue my secondary school.

In secondary school, I had the opportunity to earn money for myself. Actually, my desire to earn money came out of need. I needed things like school snacks, socks, and sandals, and I couldn’t ask relatives for everything.

So, what did you do?

In SS 1, I started practising how to make hair with young children and friends. After a while, people started paying me. One woman paid me ₦300 every time I did her daughter’s hair. I also wrote classmates’ notes for ₦300 – ₦500.

At the same time, I helped manage my aunt’s bar and cold room. In the mornings, I hawked frozen chicken before school. In the afternoons, I hawked chicken legs cooked in stew. In the evenings, I helped out at her bar.

Sounds like a lot of work

It was. My responsibilities at my aunt’s businesses only increased when I finished secondary school in 2010. I wanted to further my education, but my aunt didn’t want to let me go; I was the only one who stayed with her despite her hot temper.

That woman could beat someone till they fainted and continue till they woke up. She had three girls, but none wanted to stay back to help with the business. Instead, I did all the work while she used the money to train her children.

I understood she didn’t have to sponsor me — I wasn’t her child, after all — and it only made me determined to find my way. I wanted something better for my life.

If I stayed, I’d probably get pregnant by some boy, and then my life would be over. So, six months after secondary school, I escaped to my mother’s village.

What did you do there?

The plan was to contact my dad’s brother to sponsor me to computer school. For context, my dad died in 2006, and even though we hadn’t seen him for years, I attended the burial with my mum and siblings. There, my uncle offered to take responsibility for my brothers, most likely out of a guilty conscience.

When I returned home, I called my uncle, who agreed to pay for the computer training and asked me to come to his place in Port Harcourt. The only problem was that I didn’t have transport fare.

My elder sister was at home, so I did her hair and asked her to walk around the community. I was hoping people would like the hair and ask for her hairdresser. That’s exactly what happened.

Some people in the community were planning a burial at the time. In my place, burials are like Christmas. Relatives and friends come from different cities, and the people in the village always want to look presentable for the “visitors.”

For the next two weeks, I had customers who paid between ₦500 and ₦700 to do their hair. That’s how I gathered money to move to Port Harcourt. I enrolled in a six-month computer training course, but I worked at the computer centre for four extra months.

What was the pay like?

₦5k. All I did was type and do other secretarial duties. But I trekked to work and only ate at home to save my salary. I didn’t even use the savings for myself; a friend needed help to buy JAMB form, and I loaned her ₦15k. She never paid me back.

In 2012, I went to live with my sister in Yenagoa and found another job at a computer centre for ₦8k/month. I did that for three months, then a church member gave me a passport printer and camera, which I started using to take people’s passport pictures for a fee. I’d stand in front of the university to hustle for customers.

One day, I ran into one of my aunt’s customers from the bar. He said he heard I had learnt to use a computer and was looking for a secretary for a short-term contract. I said I could do the job, so he tested my computer skills and gave me the job. It paid ₦60k/month.

Whoosh. How did that feel?

I was excited. It was the highest I’d earned until that point. The man also gave me ₦10k for transport, and I immediately entered the market to buy a basin of garri, rice, and beans. I took it home to my sister, who didn’t understand where I saw money. I just explained I’d found a job.

I worked there for six months and pursued higher education during this time. I constantly listened to the radio because schools advertised admission exams. As they announced them, I registered and wrote them all.

I was admitted to a nursing school sometime in 2012, but my ₦100k savings weren’t enough to cover the tuition, which was ₦180k. My family also couldn’t raise the balance, so I had to let go of the admission.

That same year, I heard a radio announcement about a NIMASA scholarship to study marine engineering and nautical science. The announcement said interested applicants could pick up forms from a place I no longer remember. Interestingly, I heard the announcement on a Friday, and the exam was the next day. I picked up the form, wrote the exam, and got a notification five days later that I had passed the first stage.

What was the second stage?

Travelling to Lagos for a medical examination and verbal interview. Thankfully, the government sponsored my transportation and accommodation.

After the second stage, everyone returned home to wait to see their name on the acceptance list. I waited for two years before my name finally came out in 2014.

Did you hold out hope during those two years?

Yeah. I heard it could take a really long time to get an answer, so I just kept hoping. While I waited, I took different school exams but didn’t have the money to move forward with my applications.

At a point, I just decided it was better to wait for the scholarship. In the meantime, I tried my hands at several trades: catering, bead-making, improved my hairdressing skills, etc.

My decision to wait paid off in the end. The scholarship clicked, and I went off to the Philippines.

Oh. The school wasn’t in Nigeria?

It wasn’t. The federal government had an arrangement with the school, so scholarship awardees didn’t need to pay for tuition, accommodation and feeding. However, the feeding part wasn’t great. I think our government told them we were less privileged people, so the Filipinos treated us as such. They gave us spoilt, uneatable food, and it was a whole thing.

Anyway, my course was marine engineering. It meant I needed to complete three years of coursework, return to Nigeria for a compulsory one-year at sea, then return to the Philippines to finish my program, get cleared and collect my certificate.

During the first three years, the federal government paid me a ₱5000 monthly stipend as part of the scholarship. I also made money in school by making people’s hair. I made so much money that I briefly considered leaving the program and making hair for a living.

How much were you making from hair?

I charged each client between ₱1000 and ₱1500. At the time, one peso was ₦7, so this was approximately ₦70k. I had three to four clients every week, and I also did occasional home service. Home service fetched me as much as ₱18k. In a typical week, I made between ₱5k and ₱10k.

Most of my earnings went into black tax — I learned that term from other Naira Life stories — and savings. By the time I finished my three-year study in 2017, I’d saved ₱30k. I gave it to a friend to hold while I returned to Nigeria to find a ship for the one-year compulsory experience.

The government wasn’t going to sponsor my return to the Philippines for my certificate, so that ₱30k was my safety net.

How did the search for a ship go?

It was messy. Several students before me were still waiting for ship placements due to the limited options. I couldn’t wait for the government to help, so when I landed in Nigeria in 2018, I moved around from place to place, dropping my CV everywhere.

Fortunately, I got a role on a ship within weeks as an engine cadet —a trainee role. However, the pay was just ₦10k/month, and I still had to feed myself. Other ships paid between ₦60k and ₦100k for that position, but I stuck with what I found. I needed the experience more than the money.

I can imagine. Did you return to the Philippines after completing the one-year experience?

Yes, I returned in 2019. My friend used the ₱30k I’d saved with him to cover my flight and accommodation costs. I should mention that I got married while in Nigeria. By the time I returned to the Philippines, I was six months pregnant and couldn’t do some of the physical training required to complete my clearance.

So, I did the theoretical aspect and waited until the following year, when I finally got my license. During that time, I resumed my hairdressing hustle. I returned to Nigeria in January 2021.

I’m curious. Did you consider staying back?

I wanted to, but the Philippines’ immigration system isn’t favourable. They didn’t have a permanent residency route, and I could only stay if I kept studying. Plus, they didn’t like giving jobs to foreigners. My husband wouldn’t have anything to do if he came to join me. So, I just came back to Nigeria.

My child was about a year old, so I went for NYSC to give the child some time to adjust before looking for work on a ship. Four months after I completed the service year, I found a job aboard a ship.

What was the job?

I was a second engineer, maintaining the engine room and machinery. My work schedule was one month on and one month off the ship. My salary was ₦546k in the months I worked on the ship and around ₦250k when I was home. This was in 2022.

In 2023, a friend helped me get another job with a German company. My salary was €2600/month — about ₦2.6m at the time — and I had to board a ship from Italy or Spain, which meant a lot of travel.

That’s a massive jump from ₦546k

It was. Funny enough, I wasn’t moved. I struggle with knowing what to do with money. I don’t buy expensive clothes, and I don’t even wear wigs. I’m more likely to give my family and friends money than spend it on myself.

Plus, my husband isn’t doing too well financially, so I’m responsible for the family. I guess I saw more money as, “Yeah, this is good, but more money means more responsibilities.” So, I didn’t fixate on the income growth.

I worked on the ship for a year and transferred to an office role assisting the technical superintendent in 2024. I was five months pregnant and couldn’t stay on board for my safety. The office role allowed me to work from home, but my salary was slashed to €1k — about ₦1.6m. I worked in the role until last month, when my contract ended.

Oh. What are you doing these days?

I have a store where I sell dry fish. I opened the store last year when I got pregnant because I knew I wouldn’t be aboard a ship anytime soon. I just wanted somewhere I could go and be around people. Whenever I had to be at work, I just closed the shop.

It’s not a serious income source like that. I have someone who sends me fish once a week, and I sell them both wholesale and retail. I often make at least ₦50k in profit weekly and ₦200k – 300k monthly.

I’m supposed to return to work in a few weeks, but I don’t know if that’ll happen because I’ve still not gotten a visa. Typically, the visa comes out in three weeks, but it’s been two months, and I’ve not heard anything. Hopefully, it will come out soon.

Fingers crossed. How would you describe your relationship with money?

I have a constant need to save for long-term survival, and I attribute that to my background. I don’t buy things for myself. You could tell me a pair of shoes costs ₦20k, and I’d be rationalising why I absolutely don’t need them.

If I give someone else that ₦20k, they’d appreciate it more than whatever I need the shoe for. My husband does most of the buying — clothes for me and the kids and other household needs — because left to me, I wouldn’t buy anything. I just don’t want to be stranded.

If something ever happens that I can’t work for a year, my family should be able to live on what I’ve saved. I’m lucky I got transferred to office work and still had an income during pregnancy. Still, I have to be prepared for eventualities.

I admit I overdo the not wanting to spend on things, though. I find it difficult to buy anything for myself, but it’s probably a side effect of my line of work. Who cares that I’m wearing ₦60k shoes on a ship? Or that I wear a wig? I don’t go to events when I’m home because I’m usually too tired. So, it’d be useless for me to gather expensive things. But I still want to learn to care for myself and spend more.

You mentioned savings. What does your portfolio look like?

I have €15k in my euro account and one ₦200k in a Nigerian account, which I currently don’t have access to because the bank people want me to come and update something.

My husband and I plan to use the €15k to build a house because our house rent is killing us. Our landlord recently increased our rent from ₦500k to ₦700k, and it’s not sustainable. We have land and estimate we’ll need at least ₦10m to build a three-bedroom apartment.

At least ₦10m should make the building livable enough to move into, and we can finish up other things as they come.

Could you break down your typical month in expenses?

We buy our food in bulk, and the budget is high because two relatives also stay with us. My black tax budget spreads across my mum and the different family members I grew up with. They weren’t always nice to me, but I feel they impacted my growth in some way, so I have a responsibility to them.

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

Nothing. I don’t have many wants, but if I did, I could just go to the bank, withdraw money, and buy something. The problem is I don’t know what I want.

What was the last thing you bought that made you happy?

My plots of land. I have four in total: two in my and my husband’s name and another two in my name. I got the first two in 2022 and 2023 for ₦800k and ₦1.1m respectively. The last two plots cost ₦2m in 2024, and I got them because I wanted to have property in my name. I feel like there’s almost nothing as motivating as seeing a woman working hard and owning big things.

Inject it. How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

8. I don’t want much, so I’m pretty satisfied. My main focus now is finding balance. I want to build safety nets and assets for me and my children’s future.

I also want to learn how to relax and get good things for myself with the money I’m making. Let me not just stress about gathering money and not getting to enjoy it before I leave the world.

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Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

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The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

How long have you been with your partner?

About 8 months now. Onome and I started dating in July 2024.

How did you meet?

This is funny, but we met because I was sick. I was at the hospital to get tested for malaria, and Onome was the lab technician who drew my blood. I’m quite nervous around needles, and she could tell I was trying to put on a brave face.

She told jokes to relieve the tension, and I calmed down enough to notice she was a fine babe.

I’m screaming. Weren’t you supposed to be fighting for your life?

I mean, the sickness wasn’t affecting my eyes. I convinced Onome to give me her number, and we kept in touch via WhatsApp. At first, I thought she wasn’t interested in me. She kept responding late and sending one-word replies.

I was about to give up when I impulsively decided to call her one night. We spoke for two hours. It turned out that she was usually at work when I texted and couldn’t respond quickly. Also, she preferred calls to texts.

We went on a pizza and ice cream date and saw a movie that weekend. The whole thing, plus transportation, cost me ₦33k. We talked about everything, from our salaries to our families, past relationships and genotypes. It was my first time going all in right from the start like that. It felt like we’d known each other forever.

You mentioned salaries. What were your financial situations like at the time?

I was working remotely at a startup — I still am — earning ₦400k/month. I live with my parents, so most of my salary goes into savings and flexing. I’m not in a hurry to move out of my parent’s house. I have friends who live alone, and they tell me the shege they’re passing through. So, I’d rather save my money and get a place when I absolutely have to.

Onome’s finances, on the other hand, haven’t been great. When we started dating, she earned ₦80k as a lab technician. In December, she got a job at another lab, and her salary increased to ₦100k/month. But she has a lot of responsibilities, and the extra ₦20k doesn’t make much difference.

What kind of responsibilities?

Onome also lives with her parents, and she’s the first of four children, so everyone is constantly billing her.

She mentioned this on the first date when we talked about our families, but I didn’t think the billing was a lot. Then, we laughed about it, and I told her I could relate because I occasionally bill my elder sisters. too. The thing is, Onome’s responsibilities are more than random ₦10k requests.

Her parents are retired, so Onome sometimes has to pitch in for house rent. She also takes on most of the feeding expenses and pays the school fees of her youngest sibling. Onome had to personally take on that child’s school fees because her parents had no money for school fees and were prepared to let the child go uneducated.

Hmmm

On top of all that, her mum is hypertensive. Onome pays ₦20k/year for her mum’s HMO and still buys some medicine with her own money. Their youngest also has sickle cell, so occasional hospital admissions are a thing.

Since we started dating, Onome has had at least two financial emergencies every month. She doesn’t expect me to give her money — she’s actually never billed me since we started dating — but it’s only normal I pitch in sometimes. There’s no way my girlfriend will tell me she had to take her sibling to the hospital, and I’ll just say, “God be with you,” — especially because I know her parents don’t do much.

How often do you have to provide financial support?

At least once or twice monthly. Onome’s money problems typically involve repaying a small loan or urgently buying drugs. I don’t usually cover the full amount she needs; I usually send ₦20k – ₦30k to assist. This typically comes down to ₦50k – ₦60k in most months. It was ₦70k last month because her sibling landed in the hospital.

Onome appreciates my help and often says she doesn’t expect me to rescue her, but I feel like she keeps me in the loop because she actually wants me to do something. Wouldn’t she think me uncaring if I just ignored her problems?

Last month, I tried to reduce how much I spent helping her, but it was the month I spent the most. Honestly, it’s getting tiring. I often wonder if it won’t get worse as our relationship advances, and I don’t know if I can cope. I’ve heard horror stories of men having to provide for entitled in-laws. I don’t want that to be me.

Have you tried talking to Onome about this?

It’s a tricky subject. How do I say, “Stop telling me about your family problems?” Besides the money issue, she’s perfect. She’s focused, highly intelligent, and very caring. On several occasions, she’s stayed up all night helping me with my work (she’s a really good writer).

She treated me to a massage session on Valentine’s Day, bought me food, changed my laptop’s charger, and baked a cake. No one has ever been that thoughtful to me. To this day, I don’t know how she managed to afford all that.

I want this relationship to last forever; I’m just scared of her family’s constant needs, and I don’t know how to address it. I know I’ll have to bring it up soon, though.

Sigh. I understand. What other money conversations do you both have?

We talk about our savings. Actually, I’m the one trying to get her to build a savings culture. She thinks it’s impossible considering her many expenses, but I try to make her understand that, whether she sets money aside or not, the money will still finish. So, it’s better to have something she can hold on to.

In January, she started putting ₦20k/month in a savings app. She only saved ₦10k the following month, but I intend to keep following up so she saves something, no matter how small.

Do you have a budget for romance and relationship stuff?

We often go on dates, as those are the only opportunities we have to spend time together — we visit each other at home, but it’s not the same as just enjoying each other’s company.

Our dates are usually outdoor activities on weekends: spending time at parks, paintballing or going on walks that typically end in an eatery, mall or cinema. I spend around ₦60k/month on these dates.

You said something saving a lot. What does your portfolio look like now?

I have ₦3.2m in savings and about $600 in an investment app. My goal is to reach ₦6m by the end of the year and buy land to build a mini shopping plaza. ₦6m probably won’t cover the total cost, but I know my parents will most likely support me with the purchase once they see I’m actively working towards it.

I’m concerned I might not reach my savings goal this year, especially if I keep spending like I do in my relationship. For instance, four months ago, I reduced my monthly savings from ₦300k to ₦200k to meet up with the new demands. That’s why I’m quite worried about Onome’s family expenses. Hopefully, we can work that out soon.

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

Japa. Onome plans to pursue an additional nursing qualification and I also want to switch to a tech role. If we both succeed within the next three to five years, we’d have good options to relocate permanently.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: The Finance Sis Performing Breadwinner Duties With ₦520k/Month

Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

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Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

When did you first realise the importance of money?

2019, after my dad died. Money suddenly became a subject that affected me. First, I had to leave the boarding school for day school because it was cheaper. I was in SS 2.

I hated the change so much. While my former school was girls-only, my new school was mixed and I didn’t like having boys in my class. But it was a necessary change.

My mum was now solely responsible for me and my nine siblings, so more changes followed.

What kind of changes?

We went from three meals a day to one, and public buses became our means of transportation. It was a complete shift from the comfort we enjoyed when my dad was alive; his publishing company delivered monthly devotionals to church parishes nationwide, so he always had work.

My dad handled most of his publishing operations and business dwindled after he died. So, we relied on what my mum made from her computer centre. I also started working there while I was still in secondary school.

After I graduated in 2020, I moved on to work at a POS office. My salary was supposed to be ₦9k/month, but it didn’t come regularly. I stayed because my boss was nice. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome or perhaps I just wanted a father figure.

I see. But the irregular salary, though…

Fortunately, I stumbled on content writing gigs in August 2021 and found a side income source in them. For context, I’ve been writing short books as a pastime since I was 8. I didn’t think about monetising the skill until a Facebook friend posted a job opening for a blog writer.

I sent an application, and he sent me a sample article to work on before I got the job. The pay was ₦1/word, and my first gig fetched me ₦9k, which I gave my mum. The following month, I worked on 22 articles and made ₦22k. Most of the articles were 1k words, so I made ₦1k per article.

By this time, I was so excited that I could do something other than working at a POS shop. This knowledge drove me to want more. On December 31, 2021, I left the POS job to become a full-time content writer. The idea was to start the new year with a new resolution and outlook.

How did that go?

Not great at first. Job hunting was more difficult than I expected, and when I didn’t get a job after the first few months, I started second-guessing myself.

I still had the regular client who paid me ₦1k per article, but I wanted to scale past ₦20k – ₦40k per month. So, I applied for jobs on Facebook and LinkedIn like my life depended on them.

Although I found another client who paid ₦2 per word, I worked with him for only two months. I grew uncomfortable when he started making advances at me.

I survived on ₦1/word gigs for the rest of 2022. Then I hit my first big break in 2023.

Oooh. Tell me more

A client I found on LinkedIn offered me ₦500k to write 20 articles for his faith-based blog. After the first set of 20 articles, he renewed the contract for another 20 articles at ₦500k. The whole project lasted six months, and the payment came in tranches.

Most of the money went into paying black tax. My mum has been trying to revive my dad’s publishing business, but it’s not working. Her computer centre also closed down some years ago, so I’ve been financially responsible for my mum and siblings.

Phew. First born responsibilities?

I’m actually the seventh. My older siblings aren’t in positions where they can provide. Two have passed away, two have medical conditions and also need financial support, and one only earns enough to provide for his wife and kids.

Then I have three younger siblings whom I have to care for. I pay their fees and chip in for necessities and other miscellaneous expenses. A good chunk of the ₦1m went into paying their school fees and my mum’s treatment — she was ill at the time.

After that gig, I started landing clients on LinkedIn consistently, and my monthly income grew to ₦200k – ₦500k. In May 2024, just before I turned 22, I made my first ₦1m in one month. I’ve maintained that momentum since — I even made up to ₦2m in December.

Energy. Are these figures still from writing blog posts?

I primarily write blog posts, but I do a little bit of everything: product descriptions, listicles, product reviews, and scripts for tutorial videos. Most of my gigs come from LinkedIn.

I’ve tried diversifying into other career paths, specifically data science and virtual executive assistance. But writing is my money maker and therefore takes all my time. Honestly, writing has sort of lost its thrills for me, and I feel like I need to move on to more exciting things. Also, I realised I’ve never learned a skill. So, I want to move on to fields that require me to learn new things and apply myself intellectually.

Is this where executive assistance and data science come in?

Yes. Executive assistance is a natural position for me. I enjoy being the person in the shadows who makes things happen. An executive assistant role would be perfect for me to provide leadership without being in the limelight.

I’ve been trying to create a brand as an executive assistant (EA) on LinkedIn, but I haven’t gotten any clients. Most EA roles are onsite, and the virtual roles are mostly virtual assistants. I think they are entirely different positions. EAs provide administrative support to C-level executives while VAs can be personal assistants to solopreneurs.

That said, executive assistance is just the immediate role I want to move to when I completely switch from writing. My 10-year plan is to become a security data scientist or threat intelligence analyst abroad. I’ve started devoting four hours daily to study free data science courses. At this rate, I should be ready to apply for internship or entry-level positions by December and become a fairly decent data scientist in two years.

Sounds like a well thought-out plan

I even had ChatGPT create a roadmap of what I need to achieve my goals. It looks doable, and I plan to make it happen.

I recently let go of a client who brought me about ₦500k – ₦600k in monthly income because I wanted more time to devote to my data science aspirations. The gig with the client was a daily writing contract, which took too much of my time.

Right now, I only have one client who assigns me 15-20 articles weekly at $10-$12 apiece. My income from this client ranges between $700 – $800 at the end of the month, which is about ₦1m – ₦1.2m.

I’m currently jobhunting for another client to give me a similar batch work volume because ₦1m can’t sustain my responsibilities.

About those responsibilities. How does it feel navigating so much black tax at such a young age?

I think God did me an injustice by taking my father, some of my siblings and then leaving my elder siblings with medical conditions. Maybe it’s for the best because I doubt I’d be this resilient if my father were still alive.

My income has grown so much in just two years, and I should be excited and grateful, but it feels like I’m on a downward spiral. I didn’t have this many responsibilities when I earned ₦1k per article. Now, I’m always aware of how much there is to do and I just want to make more money.

My younger siblings will soon enter university. One will enroll this year, and the other two will move next year. I need to be prepared for that. My medically impaired sister will have a baby soon, and I want to set up a business for her and my mother.

My mother is still trying to keep my father’s publishing company running, but it doesn’t make a profit. So I bankroll it with about ₦100k – ₦150k monthly. I think we’re resistant to letting go because it’s the one thing we still have of my dad.

I understand that

Besides the typical black tax expenses like feeding, paying school fees and caring for my siblings, I currently have two major projects taking my money.

I’ve been renovating our house for a few months. It gets flooded when it rains and the rooms aren’t in great condition. I’ve spent about ₦2m on it so far, and the rooms and floors still need a lot of work. I hope to finish by May or June.

I’m also building a four-bedroom house in Nasarawa. My sister lives there and wanted me to have a physical investment so she made me start the project. I bought a plot of land for ₦1m in January and sent my sister ₦500k to start building in February.

I don’t know what has been done on the site, but I should visit in a few weeks to see the progress. I plan to set aside ₦700k for the building every month and complete it by December. After that, I’ll put it out for rent. Completing the house should cost between ₦5m – ₦10m. Maybe closer to ₦10m. See why I need to increase my income.

I’m getting the impression your family knows how much you earn?

They have an idea, but I stopped giving them the exact figures after I crossed ₦1m. It’s just a way for me to exercise more discretion regarding how much help I can offer. Once I get them settled with businesses, I can afford to indulge my desires and wants.

Right now, though, my desires take a back seat because of my responsibilities. The last time I indulged myself was between October 2024 and January 2025 when I paid someone ₦400k to make me about 40 outfits. I still feel intensely guilty about that.

Out of curiosity, do you ever resent your responsibilities?

Not really. I love my mum. She’s the most important person to me in the whole world, and my love for her outweighs the pressure of the responsibilities. That said, I’m nursing the idea of moving out of our house to a different city. I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but I can’t do that guilt-free without setting my family up.

My medically impaired sister, who lives nearby, needs a business that requires someone else to be there while she supervises. So, I’m considering two gas retail shops. They should cost between ₦1.5m – ₦2m to set up. I’ve enrolled my younger brother in a graphics class that cost me ₦40k. I intend to sponsor the others to learn skills, too.

For my mum, I’m considering restarting her computer centre or setting up a large-scale food storage business since we live in the Middle Belt. That should cost about ₦5m. If I set up all these businesses this year, I can comfortably do something significant for myself. I just need to figure out how to get my money up and meet these expenses.

Speaking of, what does your typical month in expenses look like?

I think it’s fair to say 80% of my income goes into providing for my family. I have some savings, though. In November 2024, I saved ₦300k, then I did ₦500k in December and January. I’ve put the full ₦1.3m in crypto.

A friend is trading it on my behalf — he does degen trading and estimates my investment will grow to ₦2.5m this month. I don’t know exactly what coin he’s trading in, but I trust him.

I might also increase my monthly budget for the new building. My 2025 goal is to increase my earning power to ₦10m/month. If I meet that goal, I can increase my monthly building budget to ₦1m.

Do you have plans in place for that ₦10m/month goal?

I recently took a course on high ticket closing and I want to actively explore how that can be a viable income source. I can find clients on LinkedIn and Upwork and make money through commissions.

I also want to expand my writing services to something like an agency so I can train new people to take some gigs for me. If I can also land an executive assistant gig while still making time to upgrade my data science, I should get up to ₦10m in no time.

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

Definitely my own apartment. Last I checked, it’ll cost me around ₦8m to rent and furnish a two-bedroom apartment in my desired city. I’d also like a car. A small decent one should cost around ₦12m. I can’t work towards either until I set my family up and increase my earning power.

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

4. I can’t buy anything right now without extensively planning and weighing the pros and cons. I have a book where I arrange needs according to priority. I will be happier the day I can indulge without worrying, cross off all the needs on that priority list and finally get rid of the book.

If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

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Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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This is Motun’s story, as told to Boluwatife

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What’s your earliest memory of money?

Yikes. Do you remember how much the lights cost?

When was the first time you worked to earn money?

Now you have to do a story time

You say?

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Back to the internship. Was it paid?

Nice. What did you do with this windfall?

Wait. Disappeared how?

But did you ask him for your money?

That’s wild

Fired everybody?

How were you funding your studies?

Was this business better than your first attempt at selling stuff?

A very welcome income boost

How has your income growth over the years impacted how you think about money?

How often do you travel?

Interesting. I was going to ask about your relationship with money, but you might have answered already

Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

Is there a reason why you don’t want to?

Skrim. Is there an ideal amount you think you should be earning right now?

How about something you want right now but can’t afford?

What’s one thing you’d wish to be better at, concerning your finances?

How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

As Told To Boluwatife

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How long have you been with your partner?

How did you and Flora meet?

What was cohabiting like so early in the relationship?

Were the “no money” situations regular?

How so?

Did you both discuss how you’d split the home’s expenses?

Out of curiosity, is travelling back and forth cheaper than living together in the same city?

Why?

Right

Hm. I hope that chat goes well. Speaking of, what kind of money conversations do you both have?

How do you both plan for romance while living apart?

What about gifts for special occasions?

Do you both have safety nets?

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

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This is Gabriella’s story, as told to Boluwatife

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As told to Boluwatife

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When did you first realise the importance of money?

What was money like at home?

The heck?

So, what did you do?

Sounds like a lot of work

What did you do there?

What was the pay like?

Whoosh. How did that feel?

What was the second stage?

Did you hold out hope during those two years?

Oh. The school wasn’t in Nigeria?

How much were you making from hair?

How did the search for a ship go?

I can imagine. Did you return to the Philippines after completing the one-year experience?

I’m curious. Did you consider staying back?

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What was the job?

That’s a massive jump from ₦546k

Oh. What are you doing these days?

Fingers crossed. How would you describe your relationship with money?

You mentioned savings. What does your portfolio look like?

Could you break down your typical month in expenses?

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

What was the last thing you bought that made you happy?

Inject it. How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

How long have you been with your partner?

How did you meet?

I’m screaming. Weren’t you supposed to be fighting for your life?

You mentioned salaries. What were your financial situations like at the time?

What kind of responsibilities?

Hmmm

How often do you have to provide financial support?