Gbemi*, 31, thought she could finally breathe a sigh of relief after a new job allowed her to fill in the financial gap left by her husband’s inconsistent income. However, this relief was unexpectedly cut short after she discovered she was pregnant.
In this story, she shares how pregnancy discrimination at work got her laid off, and how motherhood has led to uncertainty about her career options and financial future.
This is Gbemi’s story, as told to Boluwatife
I remember staring at the ₦200 pregnancy test strip as the second line appeared, and my world shifted on its axis.
I was unbelievably happy, but also terrified. There I was, holding the answer to five years of prayers and a silent struggle with unexplained infertility. I took the test right at the mall where I bought it — after so many negatives, I couldn’t risk letting hope balloon inside me by waiting until I got home. But for the first time ever, the strip told a different story.
I sank to the toilet floor, not caring that I was in a public bathroom; my legs couldn’t hold me up a second longer. The miracle I’d cried out for, begged for, had arrived at the worst possible time. Yes, my dreams were finally coming true, but it also meant my job was on the line.
Eight months earlier, I’d started work at a plastic factory, my first real on-site 9-to-5. Until then, I’d mostly done remote stints in operations, social media management and virtual assistance. But my husband’s income as a freelance consultant had become too inconsistent to plan our lives around.
He could make ₦1m one day, then go the next six months without a credit alert lighting up his phone. We needed steady income, so when the factory job came up in June 2023, I jumped at it. The ₦180k salary wasn’t life-changing, but it was consistent. We needed that.
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On my first day of onboarding, after I introduced myself to my manager, he looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Do these people still hire women in this place?” I froze, watching him scratch his head and assess me from head to toe, as if he expected my body, not my mouth, to answer his question.
It took a few weeks, but I eventually discovered why he’d asked that. Management rarely allowed women to work on the manufacturing side because of the chemicals and the belief that we weren’t as “strong” as the men. Women, they claimed, also took more sick leaves, so they just hired fewer of us.
Although I didn’t work in manufacturing — I was in admin operations and accounts — the discrimination still found its way to the women in the office. My manager, especially, was notorious for grumbling about female staff who had to rush off a few minutes before closing to pick up their children from school. If it were up to him, he’d only work with men.
I was one of just two women under his authority, and I could feel him waiting for me to make a mistake so he’d have a reason to let me go.
So, even while I rejoiced at my miracle pregnancy in February 2024, I knew there was a big problem: my manager would never consider maternity leave. The company didn’t even have a policy for it.
My only option was to work till the exact day of my delivery and resume one day after giving birth. Anything else, and I knew I wouldn’t have a job to return to.
My husband and I had only just started to enjoy some stability with my income. By then, he wasn’t even getting consultant gigs anymore and was fully job-hunting. How would we survive without my job?
I tried to console myself with the fact that I had some time. I figured it would take at least six months for my belly to show, and by then, my husband would’ve hopefully found something.
It didn’t work like that. Firstly, I had all-day sickness — my symptoms refused to limit themselves to mornings — through the entire first trimester, and it showed in my work. I was constantly fighting headaches and nausea, surviving on nothing but crackers and water. I couldn’t focus and kept missing deadlines.
Secondly, my belly started to show at just three months. I didn’t think anyone would notice, but my hateful manager immediately did.
One afternoon, he called me into his office. “You’re pregnant. You didn’t plan to tell us?” The way he said it left no room for denial. I just nodded and smiled, bracing myself for him to sack me on the spot. He gave me a smile I can only describe as triumphant, and asked me to return to my desk.
He didn’t sack me that day or the day after — not even the week after. Two weeks later, when I’d forgotten our conversation, I resumed work to find an email from HR. The email said the company was “restructuring,” and my role was no longer “feasible” for their new direction. It was a “layoff,” but I was the only employee affected.
I walked out of the office that morning, my heart heavy with grief and questions. I was the breadwinner in my family, and suddenly I had no job, no income. My husband had been trying his best, but he hadn’t found anything, and we had a baby on the way.
The months that followed were a blur of uncertainty. I sent out application after application, but no one wanted to hire a pregnant woman. When we could no longer rely on urgent ₦10k handouts from friends and family, my husband took a security job for ₦80k/month. It was a huge downgrade, but we had no choice.
The financial strain and uncertainty intensified after the arrival of our daughter, but we were blessed with a lifeline: our church community. They rallied around us, showering us with diapers and baby clothes, as well as the occasional cash gift. For five months, we didn’t have to worry about buying diapers.
And then there was breastfeeding. Doctors sing the virtues of breastfeeding exclusively for six months, citing the numerous health benefits to the baby. For me, it wasn’t a choice; it was a necessity. We couldn’t buy baby food, so breastfeeding was the only option.
It’s been almost a year since our baby came, and our financial situation hasn’t improved much. My husband no longer does the security job — he was sacked for sleeping on duty — and freelancing is still as inconsistent as ever, even though the income trickles in more often now.
I haven’t returned to work because I haven’t found any, but honestly, I’m not looking as hard as I should be. I struggle with the idea of being away from my child. I want to earn an income and contribute to my home again, but where do I keep her?
Sometimes, in the quiet moments when I’m breastfeeding at night, I wonder if I didn’t have this child at the wrong time. I immediately banish the thought as soon as it comes, but it always finds a way to creep back in.
I looked forward to motherhood for so long, but I didn’t realise how much it would change me. It feels like I’ve lost what it takes to provide for myself and my family. The internet describes a phenomenon called “mummy brain,” where new mums struggle with focus. I think I have that. There’s this fog in my brain preventing me from taking decisive steps to better my life and career.
I’m scared and uncertain about the future. Will I ever find a job? What kind of job can I even get? Will I ever be financially free? Will my family ever leave the struggle phase?
I have to believe I’ll get through this, somehow. I’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll find a way to balance motherhood and a career, so I can make my own money and be the mother and wife I want to be.
It won’t be easy, and I don’t know where to start, but I have to rebuild. My story can’t end here.
*Name has been changed to protect the subject’s identity.
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.
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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.
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Yewande*, 29, has been married to her husband for seven years. After he lost his job in 2023, she became the sole breadwinner of the household— a fact that’s making her resent her husband.
This is Yewande’s* story, as told to Itohan
I met my husband while I was still in university. My friend had dragged me out to a party hosted by one of her “friends”, and that was when I saw him. The first thing I noticed about him was how he seemed to know everyone. There was always someone or a group of people around him, laughing at something he was saying.
I didn’t get a chance to speak to him until much later in the night. Apparently, the guy who threw the party was toasting my friend, so we stayed later than most people. I got tired, and at my friend’s request, the host gave me the key to one of the rooms in the house to sleep in. While I was there, drunk and exhausted, Folarin*, my now-husband, walked in. He said he was the host’s friend and had been asked to watch me to make sure I didn’t hurt myself or get hurt. He told me I looked beautiful, and we talked for a huge part of the night till I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was alone on the bed, but he had written his number on a piece of paper and placed it under my phone.
I called him when I got home, and we talked for hours. He was in his final year, and I was still in 200 level, but it didn’t matter to me. He was just four years older. By 300 level, we were officially dating. By my final year, I was pregnant. When I found out, I told him I wanted to get an abortion. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t raise a child outside of wedlock. He was vehemently against it. He proposed to me on the spot, and the following week, he came with his family to my parent’s house to declare his intention to marry me. It all happened quickly, mostly because I didn’t want to appear visibly pregnant before the wedding. Within three months, I was married, pregnant, and in my final year at 22.
After I graduated, Folarin and I moved in together. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment, and that’s where we had our daughter. It took me a while to start working again because Folarin insisted I stay home and raise the child until she was at least two years old, and I agreed. He had a decent job that allowed for money not to be an issue and assured me he could handle it.
However, after a year of staying home, I got restless. I was bored and itching to do something with my life that didn’t require changing diapers or losing sleep to care for a child. Around that time, Folarin got a promotion at work and was earning even more money. When I brought up the idea of returning to work, he was against it, so I didn’t bring it up again.
Just as I was about to start applying for jobs and register for NYSC, COVID-19 happened. Everyone was at home, and nobody was hiring. If anything, people were losing their jobs. Luckily for us, my husband kept his, but they reduced his salary. It wasn’t enough to make us homeless, but enough to make us cut down on certain things.
During this period, I took some free online courses. By the time restrictions were lifted, I had started applying for jobs without my husband’s knowledge. I didn’t tell him until I got an offer at a marketing agency. We needed the extra money, and our daughter was over two years old, so he couldn’t object.
By 2021, things were better. With our combined salaries, we moved into a bigger apartment and started saving to buy a car. We still kept our finances relatively separate but had a joint account for rent, crèche fees and other household expenses. The rest was for us to spend however we wanted.
In 2022, my husband got a job offer from a startup. It paid more than double his current salary, but I didn’t want him to take the job. I told him about all the things I’d read about how startups tend to pay well and shut down suddenly. It felt like I was talking to myself. He kept going on about how this new job would change our lives, introduce us to a new calibre of people, and give our daughter better opportunities. That’s why, despite my pleas, he took the job. My salary also increased around that time due to commissions, so things seemed even better. We bought a car earlier than planned, started going out more, and he started introducing me to his tech friends. I felt like he was living the life he always wanted, and I was content to be along for the ride. I saved as much as I could and worked hard, but I really liked my job. Things were great until tragedy struck.
In 2023, my husband lost his job. The startup downsized, and let him go. He was upset and didn’t leave the house for weeks. No matter what I did, I couldn’t cheer him up. I stopped telling him about things happening at work because he’d either grumble or ignore me. I understood it was hard, so I let him be. Whenever I mentioned job hunting or asking his tech friends, he shut me down. I became the sole breadwinner, but I didn’t have a problem with it because we could afford it as long as we didn’t do too much. I thought we’d be fine until he got another job, but things got worse.
Folarin started nagging me about silly things. It started with the time I got home from work. He said I spent too much time in the office, and it made no sense why I’d return at 6-7 pm when the office closed at 5 pm. That annoyed me. We live far from my office because we chose the new apartment based on its proximity to his office. He claimed my lateness delayed his dinner, affecting his health. Then he started complaining about how I spent money, especially on my appearance. I tried to explain that looking good is a part of my job, but he just hissed and walked away.
Another thing he started doing was asking me to give him my ATM card when we went out with his friends, even though I’m the one paying the bill. The first time, I declined. He accused me of trying to embarrass him. I didn’t understand what was embarrassing about me paying for a meal, but he said it was emasculating. I didn’t answer him and I paid, but he didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. Since then, I just let him.
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The worst was when it came to his family. I found out that Folarin didn’t tell them he’d lost his job. They believe he’s the boss of the house, and I’m just using my job to keep busy. Almost every week, he asks me for large sums of money to send to his family. ₦50k for his sister in the university, ₦150k for his mum to attend a party, ₦230k for medication for his parents. I understand sending money home to care for the family, but we barely have enough as it is, and I can’t bring myself to tell them. I don’t want to distort their view of him, but I need him to be more reasonable.
I feel like I’ve come to the point where I kind of hate my husband. He sits at home all day doing God knows what, while I go to work and bust my ass off. When I return, our daughter is home with him, watching TV. Homework not done, shower not had, food not made or eaten. Then, I, the woman who had a busy day at the office, will have to change our daughter’s clothes, instruct her to do her homework, cook, and clean up after. I’m stressed out. I barely have time to do anything for myself.
I look older than I am, and I don’t have the energy to rest and recharge. The weekends I would have typically spent getting my wits together, Folarin insists we go out and hang with his tech friends, another expense I bear. To top it off, he keeps saying we should have a second child. How? I can’t afford to slack off at work or to take leave for so long. It’s such a competitive industry that time away can ruin my career. Plus, who will take care of the children? The bills? Children are ridiculously expensive. One child’s school fees is stressful enough, what happens with two?
Sometimes, just looking at him, there’s a foul taste in my mouth. My best friend says I indulge him. She’s told me to either get him to help around the house or insist he gets a job so we can afford help, but he doesn’t listen. He’ll say things about how a 9-5 is not meant for him and that the dreams he has are bigger than that. He keeps investing in these ridiculous get-rich-quick schemes with my money, and it bothers me. I’m thinking of leaving him, but I don’t want my daughter to grow up in a broken home. Then again, I also don’t think this situation is ideal for her. I just want a break.
Ese* (26) has been responsible for 80% of her family of seven’s needs since her parents left the police force a year ago, and it hasn’t been a walk in the park.
She talks about how her parents’ pension and gratuity payment delays have contributed to her family’s financial situation, sacrificing her needs and taking loans to meet demands at home, and how money has strained her relationship with her mum and sister.
As told to Boluwatife
Image: Canva AI
I’m my parents’ second child, but I’ve supported them and my siblings financially since I started making some money.
I graduated from the university in 2020 and almost immediately started working for an older coursemate who had a POS business. She had a chain of POS machines and didn’t trust her staff to transfer money to clients without diverting some of it, so my job was to do those transactions for ₦10k/month.
From that ₦10k, I started contributing to sort home expenses. My parents were police officers who didn’t make much money — they each earned less than ₦150k/month — and had five children to feed. My elder sister wasn’t working, so I had to pick up small expenses like utility bills and gas. I even dropped half my salary once to buy my mum a birthday cake. Still, the financial load was bearable until my parents retired from the force.
My dad retired first in May 2023. He retired as an Assistant Superintendent of Police (ASP) after 35 years of service. I didn’t imagine the lack of a salary would immediately worsen our financial situation. My dad said he was entitled to a cooperative association payout, gratuity, and monthly pension, so we all expected to get a tangible cash inflow soon. It didn’t exactly happen like that.
First, my dad’s cooperative payout was only ₦600k. I expected it’d be more than that since it was supposed to be a portion of his salary for the whole 35 years he worked, but he may have withdrawn certain amounts at different times.
My dad decided to invest the payout in a fish farming business even though the family warned against it. Fish farming was a new business, and we weren’t sure there was enough capital. We suggested investing it in my mum’s small poultry business instead.
He refused, and as we predicted, the business folded up in six months. After building the pond, the remaining balance wasn’t enough to feed the fish regularly, and my dad ended up selling the fish at a loss.
For the gratuity and pension, it’s been over a year, and we still don’t know when the government will process either. The gratuity is supposed to be a lump sum of ₦1m+. However, my dad knows police officers who retired a year before him and still don’t know when gratuity will come because of the unnecessary bureaucracy in the Nigerian system.
My mum also retired early this year and has joined the queue of expectant retirees. She’s expecting a bit more gratuity and pension because she retired as a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP), but as of right now, she and my dad are in the same shoes.
With both my parents retired, I became the de facto breadwinner. Fortunately, I landed an account officer position at a bank in September 2023, and my ₦324k/month salary seemed more than enough to provide for my family.
My first mistake was letting my family know how much I earn, though I don’t see how I’d have avoided that. My parents asked about my salary after I returned from training school, and I don’t lie, so I told them.
Also, my local church is very small and almost entirely made up of my family. We have a tithe card system in the church, where members write the amount they pay as tithe. My family would’ve seen that my tithe had increased to ₦32k and would’ve easily added two and two together.
It’s not that I don’t want to help out. Earning more made it easy to fill the gaps my parents’ retirement caused, but the rising cost of everything due to inflation and increasing expectations at home have turned my salary into almost nothing.
By the time I remove ₦125k for ajo, sort out my lunch and transportation to work, food, utilities, school fees for my brother in secondary school and lend my parents money to do one thing or the other, I’m completely broke. I have to take quick loans from loan apps every other month to stay afloat.
A few months ago, I had to take a ₦230k loan to support my brother through police training school. Then I took another ₦50k loan for my mum to feed her birds at the poultry and pay me back after she sold them off— she never paid me back. These loan deductions have brought my salary to about ₦250k/month, but I have no choice but to keep handling 80% of my family’s needs.
The other 20% is my undergraduate younger sister, who fends for herself in uni, and my elder sister, who works at a school now but hardly makes enough to transport herself to work, let alone contribute to the home.
It’s exhausting being a breadwinner at 26. I’m constantly anxious about inflation and being unable to save for an emergency or even invest in property. I have about ₦300k saved up now, but it’s nowhere close to the ₦1m I need to buy land in my area or hold as emergency savings.
I’m constantly worried that one health emergency will come and drain me financially. My dad is diabetic, and my health insurance only covers me. He has NHIS, but that doesn’t get him standard treatment. I need to find a way to get him regular care at a private facility. Anyone else in my family can suddenly fall ill too. What do I do then?
The ajo I mentioned earlier was supposed to get me my own apartment, but since I can’t support two households, I used my share to update my work wardrobe, set money aside for my brother’s school fees and spent the rest on my family.
Aside from my concerns about savings and health, being breadwinner also means I constantly struggle with resentment toward and from my family.
My younger siblings don’t know how to manage with little, and they regularly ask for money. One could just go, “Can you give me ₦10k?” without giving reasons for why they need the money. Even me who’s making the money can’t make expenses like that.
I also expect them to pick up small expenses like soap or gas, but everyone just keeps whatever money they get because they know I’ll handle everything. I resent that a lot. It’s like they think I have a magic tree where I just make money appear.
On the other hand, I’m positive my mum and elder sister resent me because of this same breadwinner matter.
My mum isn’t used to not having her own money, so she often lashes out because of frustration. When I have extra money, I try to give my parents around ₦10k – ₦20k just so they can hold it as pocket money, but it doesn’t always help with my mum.
Whenever I complain about my siblings wasting food, my mum often throws shade. She says things like, “Some people complain too much just because they’re the ones who bought something.” Sometimes, she’s supportive, but most times, she’s annoyed with me. I never know what version of her to expect daily.
For my elder sister, I think the resentment is because culture expects that everyone runs to the firstborn for financial help, and she feels bad that I’m the one in that “firstborn” position. Sometimes, she acts off towards me, and our relationship is often tense. Other times, she’s sympathetic and tells me she appreciates my sacrifices. Just like with my mum, I never know what to expect from my sister.
At least I don’t have to face that with my dad. He’s always appreciative and constantly praying for me.
Still, I’m grateful that I can help my family. It’s difficult most of the time, but it’s my duty. My friends and colleagues assume I have no use for money because I live with my parents and get offended when I say I can’t join an asoebi wedding group or lend them money. How many people do I want to tell about my situation?
I know things will get easier when my parents receive their gratuity and start receiving pensions. My mum would start a business again and no longer need to depend on me. If my siblings also get good jobs, they’ll be able to contribute to the living expenses. That hope is the one thing keeping me going right now.
Romoke* (32) has been her home’s primary breadwinner since she got married in 2018. At first, she didn’t think much of it, but over the years, she’s come to realise this dynamic isn’t normal.
She shares why she can’t leave and how she’s made it a priority to advise other women not to tow the same path.
Love can push you to do foolish things. Now, when I get the opportunity to talk to single ladies about relationships, I tell them to shine their eyes. Love won’t feed you; is there money? But the truth is, I didn’t take to advice either.
Let me tell you my story so you know what I mean. My mum was the sole breadwinner when I was growing up. My dad was what you’d call a sperm donor with audacity. He was a mechanic who hardly dropped money at home, but he’d come home at night to demand two pieces of meat in his food. My mum paid rent, school fees and bought clothes for all her four children with the money she made as a fabric trader.
My family’s dynamic didn’t seem strange to me. I never saw or heard my mum complain about providing for almost everything, including my dad’s demands. I grew up in a neighbourhood where most of the mothers had their shops and different hustles to take care of their children. This meant that I didn’t have anything else to compare my mum’s situation to. It was my normal.
As a child, whenever I went to my mum to ask for money to buy something, she’d say, “When you start making money, you’ll know that they don’t just spend money anyhow”. It always confused me. I want to buy sweets, and you’re saying I’m spending money anyhow. It made me start dreaming of making my own money, so I wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.
Of course, I became entrepreneurial early. I’d take my elder sister’s pictures to my secondary school to show my seniors and charge them ₦30 for our home’s landline so they could speak with her. My sister and I used to share the money equally.
There’s almost nothing I’ve not tried to make a business out of — selling recharge cards, writing notes for classmates in uni, braiding hair for my friends in the hostel and during NYSC camp and even selling baby clothes at a nearby primary health centre.
It was during one of my many hustles that I met Dare*, the man who eventually became my husband. It was 2016, and I was selling male clothes and watches on Facebook and WhatsApp, in addition to my 9-5 as an admin officer.
He was a friend on Facebook, but we never interacted before he slid into my DM to ask about a wristwatch I’d posted earlier that day. He wanted to buy it for someone but wanted it delivered to him first. That’s how we discovered that we lived in the same neighbourhood. We got talking and started dating after we met up at his church.
There were warning signs.
Dare didn’t have a job. He spent all his time at church where he served — still does — as the choirmaster. He also went to sing at other churches, and they’d pay him an honorarium. He didn’t tell me how much, but I guessed it was enough to survive on. He also lived with his parents.
We didn’t really talk about money. I didn’t care that he’d ask to borrow ₦10k on random occasions or that we hardly went out on dates. I didn’t depend on guys’ money in my previous relationships, so it wasn’t a big deal.
When I asked Dare about the job thing, he said he was applying but hoping to get something that wouldn’t affect his gospel ministry. Just before we started making wedding plans in 2017, he got a job as a supermarket supervisor. He didn’t tell me his salary, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t think it was my place.
After our parents agreed on a wedding date, we went to visit his pastor to inform him. The man called me aside and asked if I was sure I knew what I was doing. He said, “Dare doesn’t have a proper job. Why not wait a bit?”
I defended my husband-to-be. Sure, I wanted him to get better than the supervisor job, but I was also selling clothes and making good money — at least ₦25k weekly. Together, we could pull resources and build a home. But Dare and I hadn’t actually clarified how money would work in our home. I was too in love to care. In my mind, we’d get married and live happily ever after.
A few weeks after we got married in 2018, Dare quit his supervisor job. They’d refused to permit him to leave work for a week so he could travel to another state for a gospel ministration. So, he chose to leave.
The same scenario played out a couple more times over the first two years of marriage. He’d get a job and then leave after a few months because he was either tired or felt like it interfered with his passion. Did I mention I paid the rent for the house we lived in? In fact, I paid for everything we needed daily. But I still thought I was being a virtuous wife and didn’t harass him to stick to a job.
In 2020, Dare said he wanted to start a business selling musical instruments. He knew I had almost ₦1m in savings and convinced me to give him because we could make double that. So, I gave him. He never started that business.
We also had our first child around the time I gave him all my savings. I was so broke I couldn’t even buy clothes for my baby. After about six months, I began to ask him about the business. I mean, he’d taken all that money and wasn’t even telling me anything. That caused our biggest fight to date. It was like, how dare I have the audacity to question him? His parents came to settle the matter and I had to apologise to him.
I think it was then my eyes started to “clear”. Dare stopped trying to get jobs entirely and would just sit at home watching TV when he wasn’t singing at one church or the other.
I reported him to his pastor several times, and he’d call Dare — without telling him I’d talked — and ask him for updates about his job. Dare just gave excuses and the pastor would in turn tell me to be patient with him and pray. I’m sure the man was thinking, “Shebi I told you?”
We had our second child in 2022, the year I finally admitted to myself that there was nothing normal about our marriage. I listen to sermons and see other couples in our church. The women aren’t the breadwinners. Dare has no intention of earning anything to provide for his family. He has never bought clothes for me and our children. I don’t know if he still gets honorariums from ministering at churches, but I don’t get anything. I still feed him.
I’ve complained about him not dropping money several times, but it always turns into a huge fight, and I end up apologising. Church leaders can do nothing except advise me to be submissive. My pastor’s wife secretly advised me to save money in an account without my husband’s knowledge.
But how much can I save from a clothes business when I still handle all the bills? I can’t let my children starve, right? I’m honestly tired. I now avoid most of my friends at church because how many times will I say I can’t afford aso-ebi or monthly contributions that the married women in church do? Am I even married, in the real sense of the word?
I feel like everyone in church knows our situation — the choirmaster who does nothing but sings while his wife feeds him — but none of them can call him out because they want to keep up the appearances of a godly home. But what kind of home is this?
I didn’t know better when I was younger, but I do now. Even the Bible says the man should provide. I’m a woman, I shouldn’t be the breadwinner. But I can’t leave my marriage — that’s a sin. I can only pray that God will touch Dare’s heart and give him a job that allows him to take his place as the head of the house.
Until then, the most I can do is advise young single ladies. Love won’t feed you.
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.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
I grew up in a small town and thought I’d attend secondary school in the state capital with my friends. But my mum made it clear that we couldn’t afford it. The school fee was ₦65k, and books and uniforms would’ve added to that. I was 12 years old, and it was the first time it clicked that money makes things happen.
Tell me more about the financial situation at home
My parents both worked for the local government — which is the worst government job ever. They’re retired now, and my mum’s monthly pension is just ₦30k, and my dad’s is ₦47k. They spent almost 30 years in service.
But growing up, it wasn’t obvious things were bad until the secondary school incident. Most people in my small town didn’t have money, either. I settled for the run-down school in town, and when I asked for money to buy books — I love to read — my mum would be so confused. Like, why would I even think of using money to buy books when the money could take me to school or feed me for a week?
I’m also the first-born of three children, so I quickly learned to sacrifice my needs so my siblings could have nice things after I realised things weren’t great. For instance, my mum would buy Fanta, and I’d claim not to like it because of cramps, so she could give my siblings. If I said I wanted Fanta too, I knew she’d have to do mental calculations to see how we could afford to buy one more.
When was the first time you made money?
2017. I left my small town for the first time to write JAMB in a neighbouring town that was close to the state capital, and I remember being so excited. I was one step closer to the big city. I started thinking about what to do to make money and finally get to this city my friends had gone to.
So, with my mum’s help, I got a job in a small provisions store close to my house. My mum just wanted me to have something to pass time before uni.
The pay was ₦3k/month. The first time I got paid, I got the money in ₦500 notes, and it felt “bigger” in my hands. I was so excited.
I can relate
I used my salary to buy a book — Castles by Julia Garwood. When my mum asked about the money, I had only ₦500 left. My parents beat the shit out of me. After that, my mum collected my salary directly from my boss.
Well, uni admission didn’t work out, and my parents convinced me to try a polytechnic or college of education. But during Christmas, a friend visited from Abuja. She had a Tecno Android phone and a Facebook account. I didn’t have any of these.
She also had a job and lived in a rented apartment. I was fascinated by her stories about Abuja. At that point I was like, “What even is my state capital? I’m going to Abuja!”
Did your parents agree?
It took a couple of months and my grandmother to convince them, but they agreed. I told them I could get a job in Abuja and apply to a polytechnic in Nasarawa State.
In 2018, I landed in Abuja with ₦12k, moving in with my friend who lived on the outskirts of Abuja. My first culture shock was how expensive things were. What do you mean I had to pay ₦200 for a 10-minute bike ride? At home, ₦200 could take me from one town to another.
How did the job and school plan work out?
I focused on making money first. My friend helped me get a waitressing job at a bar. The salary was ₦15k/month. That was big money to me.
The male customers often tipped me ₦500 or bought me a plate of pepper soup. Of course, that involved flirting with them and rubbing their heads. One of them gave me ₦5k once, and I finally opened a bank account. In my head, I’d blown.
It was during this time I met the person who changed my view on life.
Who was that?
A free-spirited and loud fellow waitress at the bar. She encouraged me not to limit myself to the men in the bar who could only tip a maximum of ₦5k. Not when men in town could give me ₦50k.
At that point, my dad had retired and was dealing with blood pressure issues. My mum was also calling me frequently to complain about their needs and indirectly ask for money. So, I was more than ready to meet the ₦50k guys. If they liked me and wanted to sleep with me, no problem. As long as they brought money.
I started following this friend to clubs in town. Shortly after, I met a soldier. We started dating, and I quit my job at the bar.
Was he giving you an allowance?
Not exactly. But whenever I visited him, he gave me ₦10k – ₦20k. He also paid for my groceries and toiletries.
But I met someone else at a club four months after we started dating. The first time we had sex, he gave me ₦50k. He also wanted us to be exclusive because he wasn’t comfortable with me sleeping with other people. I weighed my options and decided soldier man could go. The new guy put me on a ₦50k monthly allowance, and he paid for my first apartment inside town. The rent was ₦105k. He also bought me a mattress and a standing fan.
Then, in 2019, I got a job at a spa.
How did that happen?
I’d become active on Facebook, and that’s how I met this babe who asked me to come be a masseuse at her spa. I hadn’t done it before, but the work schedule was on a one-week-on, one-week-off basis, and I figured I’d still have time to do other things. Plus, she offered ₦70k/month and the option to make more in tips from clients who wanted happy endings.
What do you mean by “Happy endings”?
The clients could request hand jobs or sex after the massage session. This brought me tips between ₦15k – ₦20k per client, and I could have up to eight clients in a day. The highest I ever got from one client was ₦50k.
My madam took a liking to me — maybe because she also came to Abuja to make it on her own. Three months into the job, she asked me to replace the manager, who was stealing and diverting her clients. My salary increased to ₦100k.
Managing client payments was one of my new duties, and it made me realise just how much the spa made. My madam would charge people ₦150k for a one-hour central massage session, and she was paying the people actually doing the work ₦70k/month. I thought it was unfair, but there was nothing I could do.
Interestingly, some of the clients continued to request for me even after I became the manager. My madam sent pictures of the girls available to the clients before their sessions, and they’d sometimes say they wanted me rather than the actual masseuses. I only accepted the requests if the tips were at least ₦50k. I was trying to gather as much money as possible.
Why was that?
My boyfriend had started dating someone else and misbehaving, so I ignored him. Now, I had to renew my rent myself, and I was saving for that.
Then, I met a senator at work. He told me he’d pay my salary so I wouldn’t have to work at the spa anymore. He knew about the happy endings and didn’t want me to do that while we were together. Apparently, people could “get to him” through me if I slept with other people.
The first night we slept together, he gave me $500. That was the first time I held foreign currency in my hand. When I got home that day, I had my bath and told myself I was washing away poverty.
Mad
It was a moment of realisation. So, I could earn that kind of money. Around that time, I was planning to leave my neighbourhood because of increased robberies. The senator suggested a place in an upscale part of Abuja, so we wouldn’t just be meeting at hotels.
I found an ₦800k apartment and told him the landlord requested a two-year payment upfront. This man sent me ₦4m. When I saw the alert, I just started crying and shouting. Like how? I immediately sent ₦700k to my mum and told her someone who wanted to marry me sent the money so she wouldn’t ask too many questions.
The COVID lockdown happened immediately after I moved in, but it was an amazing time for me. The senator’s wife was stuck in the UK, and I spent most of the time with him. He gave me ₦300k monthly and would sometimes send more when he wanted me to cook for him. He liked food, so that happened a lot.
What’s the highest amount of money he gave you?
₦9 million. I visited my parents for Christmas in 2020 and didn’t like the state of the house. So, I told him I wanted to build them a house, and he gave me the money a few months later.
Also, forget that thing he said about me not sleeping with other people. I occasionally had one-night stands with people I met in town or through friends I met at the salon or where I shopped. My friends would tell me about one actor or someone coming to town who needed girls, and those usually brought in $200 or about ₦100k.
The senator was my stable relationship and income source, though. But things fizzled out between us in 2021 when he started dating my friend.
Your friend?
Yeah. We met at a salon and became friends. They both met for the first time at my house. Sometime later, he asked about her and told me he was interested. To be fair, he asked if I didn’t mind, and I honestly didn’t. The girl asked me too, and I was like, “Girl, eat his money”.
The guy was married with kids. I wasn’t under any impression the relationship would go any further.
I think he felt guilty about “dumping” me, though. He sent me money more frequently towards the end of our relationship and even renewed my rent for two years. We still talk today, and I’m friends with both of them.
Did that affect your income stability?
There was no longer a particular amount guaranteed to come at the end of the month. So, I focused on getting one-off clients. I’d meet guys in clubs, we’d have sex, and they’d pay me. It wasn’t a great model, though. I didn’t discuss money with them before sleeping with them, and there were situations where I’d ride someone like a bicycle for hours and only get ₦50k after.
Why didn’t you talk about payment, though?
It was an awkward conversation for me. My friends always told me to discuss payment before the deed, but I just expected guys popping bottles in the club to have sense and do the right thing. By this time, my average income was about ₦200k – ₦300k/month.
I worked with this model for about two years, and it often didn’t turn out well. I even had a pregnancy scare in 2022. Technically, I only found out I was pregnant after I had a miscarriage. My period is never regular, and I’d missed it for about three months when I started getting really bad cramps. I was rushed to the hospital, and that’s how I found out. Ironically, I always use condoms. I got pregnant the one time I didn’t use one. It was crazy.
I’m sorry you went through that
Thanks. It’s not even the most unpleasant thing that’s happened to me in this job. One time, I was having sex with a guy, and his friend walked in. Then the guy I was with went, “Well, with the amount I plan to pay you, it makes sense if my friend gets a go, too. It’s the same one night.”
I was so pissed. I called my cab guy and left without collecting my money. See, having a cab guy is very necessary in this job. Online cabs don’t work all night, and sometimes I just need someone to come get me.
Anyway, my job became easier after a pimp approached me in 2023. He’d seen me hang out at a lounge a couple of times. He offered to hook me up with clients for 30% of whatever I make. It sounded good to me and we tried it for some time to see how it’d work. It worked out great and we still work together.
How does having a pimp make your job better?
He tells me how much I’d get before I even accept a job. So, I don’t have to worry about doing the work and receiving peanuts later. Also, he doesn’t demand for more money. For instance, we can agree he’d take ₦150k for a ₦500k weekend job. If, for whatever reason, I get paid ₦700k instead, he never asks for more. It also helps that I’m very transparent with him, so we just work well together.
Earlier this year, he hooked me up with two Arab guys who wanted to do intense BDSM with a black woman. He was clear they were going to beat me, but I’d get $20k. The money wasn’t bad at all, so I agreed to it and the conditions they set — getting tested for STIs.
I was with them for three days, and it was intense. That thing they did in “Fifty Shades of Grey” isn’t BDSM at all. These guys used real iron handcuffs and beat me ehn. I used a whole week to recover. I’ll never do it again.
Damn. That’s a lot
I’ve not done any major job since that time. Right now, I’m just resting and catching my breath. My pimp still hooks me up with ₦200k one-night jobs once in a while, but it’s nowhere close to the weekly jobs I’m used to.
What was your average weekly income when you were working regularly?
2023 was a good year for me. I had many clients who came into town because of the general elections. Plus, due to my pimp’s actual job, he was in close contact with a lot of them. Sometimes I could get up to ₦2m in a week. The weekend of democracy day, there was a private party and I went home with $1k.
Do you worry about running out of clients at some point?
I do. It’s why I’m focused on saving for my siblings’ education and my family. I fear becoming old and ugly and suddenly being unable to land clients. Everyone in my family depends on me now, and I subconsciously save almost everything I earn in a month. Before January, I used to save like ₦800k/month.
I have three savings accounts: one has ₦1.7m in it, and it’s for health bills and emergencies. Another has ₦610k for rent savings — it’s not much because I don’t have to worry about rent for another year — and I have ₦9.6m in the third one for savings sake. It’s usually where the money for groceries, food and flexing comes from. A large part of this money came from the January job. It brought me ₦18m after my pimp got his cut, and I used part of it to get some wigs, pay my rent in advance, got phones for my siblings and a generator for my parents. There were other expenses, too. When I was done, I was left with about ₦10m. But it’s the account I spend from, which is why it’s around ₦9m now.
Let’s break down these expenses in a typical month
My feeding expenses are high because my siblings moved in with me in 2022, and they’re teenagers who eat a lot. I’m glad they’re here, though. Every time I look at them, I’m reminded that I’m on the right track. Nothing I’m doing is in vain. They’re so intelligent, and I’m honestly in awe of them.
They’re still in secondary school, and the plan is to send them to the best universities possible. The schools I’m eyeing cost millions, so I need to get my money up. I’ve also thought about returning to school, but I don’t think it’ll work out. It’d be too awkward sitting with small children. So I’ll let my siblings do it.
You said something about black tax from extended family
Yes. There’s always one cousin asking me for money or one thing I need to pay for in the village. I just came back from a burial in my village in March because, apparently, it was an important person who died, and if we weren’t involved, they’d look down on my family. I had to buy a goat, crates of beer and even cook for people. I spent like ₦150k on that matter.
Just the other day, I got another call that another person died, and we had to buy another goat and crates of beer. As how?
How would you describe your relationship with money?
I feel like I’m at a point where I can finally breathe. I’m not tense about money anymore, because I have most of my responsibilities covered. Even if I don’t get a client in a month — which isn’t possible — I’ll be fine. I haven’t worked actively since January, and I still get ₦300k/month at the least.
Have you considered getting an additional income source?
The thought of starting a business has crossed my mind. The senator promised to give me money if I ever need to set up anything, but nothing concrete has come to mind yet.
I’m very comfortable where I am right now. I earn more than most civil servants, and I never get stranded; my pimp makes sure of that. I even reject clients sometimes when the requests get too bizarre.
What are some of the bizarre requests you’ve gotten?
Someone wanted me to eat his shit for ₦10m. Good money but omo, shit? Nah. Another one offered me ₦800k to wear a dildo and peg him, but I wasn’t comfortable with that. Then there are the ones who want to pee on you. People have weird fantasies. Maybe I’d have jumped at these requests in my early days when I was still trying to find my feet. But I’m comfortable enough to reject jobs now.
What’s one misconception about sex work that you’re tired of hearing?
People think sex workers always stand on the road. I’ve never had to do that to find a client. They’re also always shocked that I speak so well. It’s usually the first thing new clients say. Stuff like, “You’re so intelligent”. I don’t get it. Should I be stupid?
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 – 10?
7. It’ll be a complete 10 when I send my siblings to the universities I want them to go to and comfortably cover all their bills.
I’m curious. Do you have any financial regrets?
Yes. I opened a charging centre for a cousin in 2023 because his mum — my mum’s younger sister — came to me crying about how he wasn’t doing anything in the village. It cost me about ₦250k to set up the place and buy a generator.
Two months later, he left the shop unattended to go and drink, and all the phones were stolen. I had to pay about ₦450k to the customers who lost their phones and bail him from jail. I’ll never set up a business for a family member again. I’d rather give them money and keep it moving.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
It’s possible that when you think about breadwinners in the home, your mind automatically goes to the man. Regardless of what society expects, this isn’t always the case in every family.
We spoke to six Nigerian women about being major financial providers in their families, and here’s what they had to say:
“We don’t talk about it”
— Joke*, 36
I’ve been married for four years, and my husband has only officially worked for one year since we got together. He lost his job due to some kind of office politics, and now, he just does some online freelancing to make money.
I cover all the bills — including rent and our children’s school fees — from my ₦100k salary. It’s challenging, and I must have taken loans from every co-operative at my job. At this point, we don’t even talk about me having to take care of everything anymore; it’s just expected. I can’t say anything so as not to seem disrespectful.
“My mum expects me to send money home”
— Gina*, 20
I’m a student at one of the federal polytechnics, and I also make hair for my fellow students to get some money. My mum is a single mother of two, and she sells sweets to fend for us.
I understand how tough things are at home, and I send what I can, especially to support my little sister who’s still in secondary school, but it gets frustrating that my mum expects so much from me. I once asked her where she thought I got money from and she didn’t say anything.
I hustle daily to support my family and pay for school, but I hope I don’t get pushed into doing what I’m not supposed to do.
I earn 70% more than my husband does. So naturally, I take on more responsibilities at home. That isn’t an issue in itself, but the pressure from our extended family is out of this world.
My husband is generous, and our extended family takes advantage of this. It has gotten so bad that they now feel entitled, and if he doesn’t send money, they say his wife doesn’t want him to help them. Now I find myself spending most of my salary just to satisfy family demands — while they think it’s coming from my husband. People think we’re rich, in reality, we have to stretch out my husband’s small salary to afford rent and other utilities.
“It’s tiring”
— Lizzy*, 33
My husband is out of the country, and I’ve been the only one catering to the children — well, except for the yearly rent that he sends.
He’s been away for three years now, and I still wonder if it’s that difficult to send something to assist in feeding and school fees at least once in a while. His family also doesn’t care to know how we live. But if I dare ask him for money, his mother will know and send one of his siblings to harass me.
I like to console myself by assuming I’m a single mother so I don’t feel too disappointed.
I know how hard my parents worked to ensure my siblings and I didn’t lack anything while we were growing up.
Now that I have a job and they’re both retired, I’m only too happy to take on our financial needs, especially with three of my siblings still in school. It’s tough because I don’t earn so much, and I don’t have a glucose guardian, but I try my best.
It means I can’t just spend on enjoyment sturvs for myself or randomly go out with friends, but it’s a sacrifice I’m happy to make. My parents did more for us.
“We’re a unit”
— Hadiza*, 31
My husband resigned from work in 2021 to further his studies in another state. I’ve had to shoulder all the home expenses and even assist with his school expenses.
I don’t have a problem with it because this is something that we already talked about and agreed on together. But it’s difficult because we have three children. Anyway, the fact that this should be temporary helps make it easier.
*All names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
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.
Let’s start at the beginning; your oldest memory of money.
Christmas. I remember going house to house with my sister to collect money at the end of the day we’ll settle to count and see how much we made.
I always looked forward to moments like that, or when my dad dashes us money whenever he’s around.
Whenever he’s around?
Yeah. He was a police officer, so he was hardly at home – at least while I was still a kid. One year, he’s in Lagos next year Kano or a different state.
You see daddy, you see money.
If I remember correctly, we had an allowance. It wasn’t much sha – when I was in secondary school, I remember getting ₦1k for like two weeks. And since we are plenty we get the money according to our age.
Hmm, plenty.
Five children; I’m the second child. This routine was from 2005 to 2011 for me – my entire secondary school years. My mum, on the other hand, was the type that’ll say “bring the money, let me keep for you,” and you know how that eventually goes.
We all had the same childhood.
Yep. Mums don’t disappoint.
Let’s do a big jump to when you got paid for work for the first time ever.
Ah yes. During my undergraduate Industrial Training, I worked as my uncle’s personal assistant.
Wait, what did you study?
Computer Science. Anyway, all I did was type his documents, help to reply to his emails and stuff.
It’s interesting looking back, I feel like I was lucky, to be honest. My dad asked me to tell my uncle I needed I.T. placement, but I refused because I felt I could hustle myself. I decided to ask and he employed me.
How much were you getting paid?
He was paying me ₦30k. The firm also paid me ₦20k. Every weekend, I got ₦10k allowance. I was also living with his family, so I didn’t spend anything on transportation or food.
You were earning ₦90k as an IT student. Mad.
Well, yeah but sadly it was just for two months – I already spent the first month of the three-month I.T. looking for placement before choosing my uncle. This was in 2014.
Anyway, I used part of the money to buy a phone, because a girl needed an upgrade. I bought a Q10 when Blackberry was still a thing. I think it was ₦40k.
Smooth. After Uni?
NYSC in 2016. I was a teacher at a secondary school in the North Central. You know, they were going to retain me and I was considering staying back o, but I ain’t gonna be a teacher for life. No offence to teachers out there.
How much did they want to pay you?
₦100k, I heard. It was a well-funded government school, and Level 8 (BSc) people earn about ₦100-₦150k.
That is interesting. First job post-NYSC?
Ah, it was an internship, and they didn’t pay me. I was supposed to start as an intern, but novice like me, I got the job and started without discussing salary.
After the first month, me and my Oga dey look each other.
Ouch.
I spent my NYSC savings coping and managing. The next month, after the same thing happened, I decided to leave.
Some background, I started learning how to code in my final year in 2015 and continued into NYSC.
Ah, code.
Yeah, I needed experience, so I had to work as an intern for a couple of months. The second one paid ₦50k at first, then I got a raise to ₦80k. It felt so good because, at that point in my life, the money was enough.
This was barely two years ago. I spent 10 months at that second gig – I left.
Did you get another job?
To be honest, I had another gig alongside the second one. It was getting me relatively more money than the full time one. Also, I wasn’t happy there, so I figured I should move.
See ehn, the one thing I’ve realised over the years is to hustle and have multiple streams of income. I’m not there yet, but I’m still hustling.
Since I got that second full-time job, I’ve always had a side gig.
Noted. What was the time between your second and third job?
Five months. So my side gig sustained me throughout that period. Also, the pay was dependent on the number of hours I worked, but it always ranged from ₦150k to ₦200k.
Eventually, I got another gig. But something interesting happened.
What?
My salary was ₦75k. But I did it because of the company. The dreams were big o, and to be honest, that was enough compensation at the time. To be honest, I don’t regret moving and joining the company because it helped shape who I am today. But things didn’t go well while I was there.
What happened?
The things we were supposed to be building just wasn’t coming. And, I spent one year, doing next to nothing.
Wollop.
Well, I took a product management role on an internal project at least, which I liked because it built my skills in different areas. After the first year, I was like fuck it. I’m not doing again. But I didn’t quit, I started picking up other skills and opportunities. For example, in 2019 I started doing technical writing on the side. The first gig was $150 per article.
Lit!
The highest-paid has been about $500 per article. I was doing about 2 or 3 articles a month. But I really was lazy, because I could have done more and gotten more. But anyway, it was okay, and I was happy. My salary at the office, even though much wasn’t happening, had increased to ₦150k. On the side, I started earning about ₦300-500k. Although there were months where I couldn’t create any content, so I had nothing but my salary.
This is interesting.
I haven’t even gotten to the best part. Anyway, in 2019, I started job hunting, because I clearly wasn’t happy at my job.
At the beginning of 2020, I finally got another job. The best part was that it was remote – I got a job with a foreign company.
Ah, this is about to get interesting. I –
This one pays $4,400.
You didn’t let me land.
Hahaha. I also got another side gig that is paying me $1500. I’m mostly doing their technical writing.
So, how much are you netting monthly now?
It’s not fixed, but my last full month, I did $7,000:
Main Job: $4,400
Part time job + small gigs: $2,600
I like to think I’m just getting started. More wins to come.
I’m excited about your future, but tell me about now. Tell me how $7,000 will go in a month.
First of all, I saved roughly 60%.
The rest went to my needs and family’s needs. Whenever there’s a need at home and I can afford it, I’m the go-to person. My baby sister is trying to follow in my footsteps, so I replaced her dying laptop. Also, I stay with my parents, so I honestly don’t spend money on rent or food.
Has it ever clocked in your mind that you’re actually the new breadwinner?
Haha! I know this already. Things were a bit rough for my folks in 2018. So, my sister and I took care of the expenses.
Did you and your sister ever sit down to discuss this new quo?
Yes, we did o. We had to pay for school fees. I still had a sibling in secondary and another one in University – ₦250k each. We split the bill; I paid one, my sister paid the other. It was tough, but we survived. I think things eased down a bit when my dad got his gratuity and found a new job. He now works as a private security personnel.
How much did he get for his gratuity?
₦5 million, but the way that money went ehn. I think he still gets a monthly pension, but I don’t know how much. For me, I don’t think it’s worth it. I’ll save my money myself for the future.
35 years of service?
Yes o. We moved to a new house in 2018. The house wasn’t done and still needed to be furnished – painting, furniture, etc. I’m just glad we never went into any debt. The space is also massive, and so, for it not to look empty, we had to furnish the whole place. That cost a lot.
Ah, the Diderot Effect.
I think it’s amazing; going from zero code skills to becoming breadwinner in 5 years.
This money thing, what’s it for you?
A friend shared his perspective on how he managed money – I know you asked for mine, but here I am giving you someone else’s take. He says money shouldn’t sit in your account, but should instead be working for you.
I totally agree with that. But for me, I prefer to save and still invest my money.
Tell me about that.
Just thinking of the money I have saved up somewhere gives me joy, especially when I have no immediate need for it. But of course, I understand that investing the money can get me more money in return.
I’m a low-risk person, so I’ll save some and invest some.
Fair enough. How do you save?
My bank account: 30%,
PiggyVest: 10%,
Cowrywise 20%
Domiciliary account: 40%
I still need to learn more about money management and investment, but so far, I’m not doing a bad job.
Did you ever think back at 2017 and imagine you’d be earning this now?
To be honest, my brain was still operating in naira. So, I used to believe that I had to be a manager working for up to 5 years to earn ₦1 million. It feels good.
I’m feeling good on your behalf. What’s something you really want right now but can’t afford?
I don’t really have any super expensive thing I need. Well, I need a car and in a few months, I should be able to get one. My budget is 2 million.
Fair e –
Oh, wait! I have one actually. I need to get a standing desk, because of the back pains from sitting too long. but shipping to Nigeria isn’t available, and it’s also twice the price. To be honest, I think it’s less about it being expensive, and more about not having access to it.
What’s the last thing you paid for that required serious planning?
I plan everything in advance, to be honest. But the last thing I remember would be getting a new computer and creating a home office.
The home office set up:
Monitor: ₦60k
Desk and chair cost ₦35k
Keyboard and mouse: ₦15k
It’s super simple now, and I’ll occasionally add more things, but nothing extra.
Fair enough. What’s something you struggle with though?
Procrastination and ample rest.
Ah, working or feeling guilty for not working eh?
That’s exactly how I feel today. I haven’t done any work and I haven’t also rested like I wanted to. But we move.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your happiness levels?
I’ll say 7. I’m financially stable, which is great. I don’t think I need anything that I can’t afford, but the twist to this to be honest, I still have struggles in other areas of my life.
Have you ever had to process all of this at once?
I don’t think I have. I think that was a big takeaway from doing this.
Thank you for taking the time.
Herquick hacks to earn in dollars:
Find a skill that’s in global demand, and can be done remotely.
Make a lot of noise about your skills, so you get noticed.
Stay consistent in delivering, and the gigs will come.
Being the breadwinner is more pressure than perks, but what does it mean for a family when their breadwinner can no longer provide? Most of the time, it means the rest of the family will step up to plug the gap. This week’s story is about that.
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.
My favourite first question is, what’s your oldest memory of money?
I mistakenly saw my father’s annual payslip in 2004 or so. More than half a million Naira. I didn’t know if it was too much or enough. I was too young to understand anything.
How old were you?
11. Two years later, he got laid off, and that was the beginning of everything.
Woah.
After 28 years of service. Just like that.
He was an engineer working at the Nigerian Ports Authority and got retrenched during the Obasanjo’s tenure. My kid sis was 2 back then. My mother had to pick things up from there – this woman hustled, and still hustles sef. I guess that’s where I got my relentless spirit from.
What was she doing before this happened, and what changed after?
She worked as a Community Health Officer at the Local Government level. At that point, she became the primary source of income for the family.
For instance, she’d trek from her office to the bus park, treat the drivers there and anyone who needed treatment. Then trek to the market to buy foodstuff from whatever money she made then take a bus or trek from there.
Work to Park: 1.7km
Park to Market: 3.3km
Wow. What were things like for your dad?
My dad got his gratuity at some point. It was in the millions of naira back then but he lost it all to fraudsters two years later. He’s yet to fully recover from this – he’s hypertensive.
And that in itself is a monster of expenses.
You get it. Thank God my mum was a healthcare worker. Things are much better now, at least he’s collecting his monthly pension, but it’s never enough. I don’t know how much o, but it’s never enough.
I’m just grateful I’m no longer a dependant – to an extent at least. They can focus on my baby sister now – she’s going to uni with the 20/21 session. I have an older brother too, basically the scapegoat of the house. And somehow, all the pressure’s on me.
I don’t know how to explain it.
Try maybe?
First daughter pressure. Must be perfectly moulded for a husband we’re yet to meet. Near perfect in every other aspect. It also doesn’t help that I’m the only one that inherited my mother’s drive out of all her children.
My siblings are so laid back, they can’t come and kill themselves.
Stress. I imagine this pushed you to want to make money on time?
I’d say it made me more driven, but work for money? Not really. The first time I got paid for anything though, I supervised a team for some immunisation exercise. About 10 years ago. It paid ₦4k. I was 16 at the time.
I got into uni and school work didn’t give me the luxury of trying to do anything. Also, I had leadership responsibilities in my department that made it even more difficult. I did a couple of small jobs here and there though. One time as a data collator for a week; that paid ₦10k. Industrial Training at an FMCG paid ₦10k a month and ₦400 for weekend shifts.
I graduated in 2014 on paper, but in reality, 2015.
What does that even mean?
Strikes.
After graduating, I came home to do the usual; job hunting. Job hunting is how I Ianded in the hands of job scammers. I don’t know where they got my number from, but they told me to come for an interview.
I got there and I met people from different age groups applying for the same job – first red flag – but I wasn’t thinking again at this point. They gave us an aptitude test which I passed, I was so happy, hahaha.
Then they started the aspire to perspire yarns for those of us that passed and failed – another red flag. It’s like they used jazz on us.
Then they said we should all bring about ₦11k to start. I didn’t even have it but I was ready to go back home to bring it. When I stepped out of the premises, it’s like my senses came back.
The next day, my mum told me to go look for a fashion school – I’ve always been interested in that.
Mad oh!
I found one near my house. Buying sewing materials and tools alone cost me 80k, but not at once. It was what it summed up to from collecting money every day. I was tired of asking for money daily, but I had no choice.
One Friday night, I showed up at home and you know what was waiting for me?
What?
A brand new sewing machine. God bless that woman for me. Anyway, I learned how to make both male and female clothing. In that time, I also got a job.
Nice!
I was fired that weekend.
Small play.
I took the job because I was just tired of being dependent. It was a fashion house – I was a huge fan! The job title said Stock Manager, but a few days later I found myself sweeping the living room of my boss – they worked from home.
Wollop.
One Man Business in Naij 101. My contract said, 10 am – 4 pm for four days in a week, so I figured it was flexible for fashion school not to suffer. We had an event on Sunday. That whole week was very stressful and we agreed I’d take the next Monday off.
She didn’t stop shouting at me at the event. At this point, I was already feeling sick from the stressful week I’d had so it even made more sense to take the Monday off. I also didn’t know I needed to give another notice to my employer.
Oops.
I was using a night time data plan at the time. So Monday at 9pm, I got a message from the brand manager telling me I was no longer needed and I should send my account details: I got ₦10k for the week.
There were other things about it I didn’t like. My boss’ husband, for example, was sending me on errands.
A mess.
Anyway, NYSC was calling, and I had to cut short fashion from my one year plan to 8 months. I got posted to the Southeast, to a school in the middle of nowhere.
So, picture this: the only Muslim Yoruba woman in one Local Government in the Southeast in IPOB’s active days in 2016.
What was that like?
It was very very exhausting. I encountered a lot of unpleasant experiences both from fellow corp members to indigenes. One Corps member was discriminated against, simply because she’d lived in “Yoruba Man’s Land”. I ranted about it and got in serious trouble for it. I literally had to leave where I was when it started to backfire. People said I was a target. It was less than three months until I was done with NYSC, so I counted the days.
My escape was that some of the students I taught were very pleasant. Then there was this tailor I’d go stay with after school. He gave me space to sew sometimes. Then I’d go to Onitsha and Awka Markets to buy fabrics to sew. Made some outfits for a few of my mates. I really wanted to go to Aba but I felt it was too dangerous to travel alone.
Then I was tutoring some kids for jamb and WAEC, but I had to stop because it was interfering with school time table and because they didn’t even know the basics few weeks to their exams. ₦1k per lesson.
Anyway, my NYSC salary was the usual; ₦19,800. Then the state paid ₦10k.
I’m sorry you had to go through that. After NYSC?
I came back home and was ready for the labour market. I was tired of being broke. Although I still had some stashed away from service – I’m quite prudent. Then my mum and I had a back and forth:
Mum: Go for your Master’s.
Me: No. I want to make money. It’s a trap. You’re going to pay my school fees and I won’t be able to fend for myself.
Mum: …
Me: …
Mum:…
Me: Okay, fine. I’ll go.
And so, I ended up applying for a Pharmacology Masters.
Just as I was waiting, my dad put me through to someone at an FMCG, and they asked me to come interview.
Progress!
Yeah, except the job, as I later found out, was not in fact related to my course. It was for a marketing canvasser. Because of the circumstances around the opportunity, I couldn’t say no. Also, I needed the money.
What was the job like?
I was required to go out and market the company’s products to customers for ₦40k a month, plus transport and airtime allowance. There were commissions too.
It was a 6-month contract, but I hated that job. Also, it was a tough 6 months, because I had to do the job, prepare for exams, and sew on the side.
When I finished the marketing gig, they didn’t want to pay us our honorarium and commission, so we sharply brought out our employment letter to show them the terms again.
How did that go?
I got an alert of about 160k in January 2018, at the end of it. By the end of January, all the money I had was ₦200k.
A few days later, I gained admission. I needed all these small wins at that point.
Any specific reasons?
My useless boyfriend had started dating someone else. Menarescum.
I –
I slipped into a depression and migraine crisis for six months. My parents covered my tuition and all. But I had to fend for myself via tailoring to get my allowances.
I finished a little over a year later, in 2019, then I started applying for jobs again. Some health challenges again made me realise that I needed a job to propel my dreams, and tailoring wasn’t going to do it at this time. So I started applying more aggressively.
Did anything click?
By the middle of the year, yes. One of the places I’d applied to wanted to have me. They were especially pleased with my volunteering experience in the past. Best part? I didn’t live far away from the office.
One month later, I started as a Scientific Data Analyst at a Pharmacy. 8 am to 5 pm, Mondays to Saturday, ₦100k net. The beggar in me didn’t have a choice at this point, so I took it.
Sigh.
To be honest, my role feels more like an Assistant Operations Manager. I handle chronic disease management, with emphasis on hypertension and diabetes management. Data collation and analysis. I also head the counselling department. I do business development and strategy. Programs, health promotion and advocacy. Social media management.
That’s a lot.
Six months in and I’m already tired. For instance, I was supposed to start a data course today, but I had to postpone because I’m actually drained.
You see, right now, I’m done with the Nigerian labour market. I’m planning to japa very soon. I’m gathering all the experience I’d need for a PhD in Diabetes and Depression management.
How much do you think the work you do should pay you?
₦250k net. It just feels like a decent amount for the work I do.
Fair enough. How about we break down your current monthly expenses?
I’m low maintenance. I may make an extra 35k per month from sewing, I don’t document that a lot.
What’s something you want right now but can’t afford?
My own space abeg. I’m tired of living with my parents. Also, I’d like to hire a tailor that actually knows how to sew well. I deserve a vacation too.
Look, I just want to be a Glucose Baby. I’m tired of this hustle.
Hahaha. Do you have an emergency fund for if anything goes south?
Your question is making me dizzy. Maybe I should get myself a Glucose Guardian? Jokes.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?
5. It’s like, I need money for a lot of things, but I’m also grateful to earn money. Whenever I think about my dad’s condition, I just go to my machine.
I get home and I go straight to the machine. I don’t want my skills to die because I have a day job. My mum too goes to her shop when she leaves the office, before heading home. Mastering tailoring myself means I have the luxury to stop working any time I like in the future.
You feel me?
I do. I do. Thank you for taking the time.
Quick announcement:
Finding #NairaLife stories and making sure you find them useful is a tough task every week. So when Barter indicated interested in a partnership with Zikoko over #NairaLife, we said yes!
What’s in it for you? Well, you still get stories every week. But Barter will be bringing some more firepower. They’ll be sharing insights and tips they’ve learned helping thousands of users flourish over the past few years.
I have a good feeling about this. I hope you do too.
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