Being a creator no be beans. You’re pitching to brands, sending rate cards, negotiating usage rights, all while praying the ‘exposure’ they promised actually leads somewhere that maybe ends up in virality. Sometimes it’s even unclear briefs, unpaid collaborations, chasing brand payments that have been processing for months, and you even thinking ‘Maybe I should have just become a doctor like my mother wanted.’. It can be frustrating.
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Think of it as your creative village where you meet brands that finally speak the same language as you. No more recording a video only to hear ‘We’re sorry but we decided to go with someone else’, or sending proposals, invoices and ‘Hi, I’m ….. ‘ direct messages only to be ghosted. It’s a total game-changer that gives you credibility, visibility, learning and opportunity, all in one place.
The icing on the cake? It is not just limited to a set of creators. We’re talking about a growing community of Nigerian and UK creators across all niches; food, fashion, lifestyle, basically everyone who knows how to tell a story that moves people from nano to macro. They have worked with creators like Omoye cooks, Folagade Banks and let’s just say the results speak for themselves.
Once you join Stardust Creator Network, here’s the steal; You can still work with multiple brands, explore new opportunities, and chase all your bags at once. You get access to campaigns that match your niche, audience, and values and know exactly what you’re getting, when you’re getting paid, and how your content is being used.
Stardust Creator Network is a great place to get connected to gigs but it is also a masterclass that helps you grow and level up without getting lost in the algorithm. No gatekeeping, no weird competition, just a vibrant community of African storytellers who are being supported with all they need ready to redefine what it means to create and influence globally. For all the times you have said, ‘Omo i just want brands to notice me and create without stress’, consider that prayer answered. Sign up today, join the Stardust Creator Network and let your creativity finally pay off rightly.
When the world first began watching Rodney on TikTok, he was a different person.
Born in Anambra and raised in Abuja, he was a student and a dancer with dreams of becoming a star. But life, as he quickly learned, isn’t as easy to choreograph. While his passion for dance propelled him to viral fame, it also plunged him into a whirlwind of overnight celebrity, financial exploitation, and hard-earned lessons in trust and resilience.
This is the story of Rodney’s evolution — from a shy, aspiring student to a digital superstar with over 7.3 million followers — and his fight to keep his voice and credibility intact.
This is Rodney’s story as told to Marv.
The first time I realised my life was changing was back in 2021. I was walking through my neighbourhood on my way to buy bread for my family when, out of nowhere, a group of children recognised me.
“Rodney! Rodney! Ehh. He’s the one! Rodney!” they shouted. I froze, caught off guard, as their voices echoed down the street.
I was in old, faded clothes and slippers, completely unprepared for that kind of attention. They wanted pictures, and I had no choice but to pose. That moment, as overwhelming as it was, planted a seed: people were noticing me, not just online, but in real life. It was exhilarating, but it also made me start paying attention to how I looked when going out, even if it was just to school.
Before TikTok, my life had been… just there. I was studying International Relations, coasting through classes I didn’t fully understand. Dance was mostly a hobby. I started back in secondary school and eventually joined a group called Dark Illusion, which, looking back, is a crazy name, but I thought it was cool at the time.
My friends always hailed me as a good dancer, and while I didn’t overthink it, I did have this Step Up-inspired fantasy where I’d show up at university, show off my dance skills, and somehow become famous.
But when I got to uni, I quickly realised how delusional I’d been. Adulthood hit me hard, and I had to hustle just to survive.
I kept dancing, but mostly as a way to pay small bills. I’d earn maybe ₦3,000 for a performance at a departmental pageant, a fresher’s party or some faculty event — just enough to cover some basic expenses.
I danced through 100 and 200 level, until COVID hit in the second semester of my 200 level, bringing everything to a standstill.
During the lockdown, I was stuck at my parents’ house on the outskirts of Abuja. With no events or parties happening, my focus shifted. Instead of performing live, I started pouring my energy into social media, posting more dance videos on Instagram and TikTok.
By the time I was returning to school, I already had some online recognition — around 300 thousand followers on Instagram and TikTok, though the latter had the biggest following. Back then, TikTok was still new, creators were few, and having a following made people assume you were a big deal.
But for me, it still felt small. I was posting out of boredom, mostly repurposing the same dance content I’d been sharing on Instagram. The growth was slow at first. My TikTok views were low compared to my following, and that’s when I realised that being on the app wasn’t enough. I needed to hop on trends and make quality content.
Then one skit changed everything. It was a funny take on African parents who don’t show romance despite having up to 10 children. It exploded to around 100,000 views. I was shocked and excited.
Before TikTok, I didn’t see myself as a funny person beyond my friend group. We’d troll and joke about situations, but it was all casual. TikTok gave me the confidence to really try comedy.
So, I started mixing in skits with my dance videos, and the audience responded more to the skits. So, I let my dance evolve and mix with comedy. I was still dancing, just in a goofy, funny way that fit my audience and even allowed me to reach more people.
But shooting videos back then was rough for a while. We didn’t have Jamboxes, so the sound came straight from the phone as we recorded. I even had to borrow a friend’s phone just to make content.
Data was another struggle. I relied on night plans to upload videos and check engagement. Slowly, the effort started to pay off — I was gaining traction, making a bit of money online, and settling bills myself.
Still, growth was slower than I would have liked, mostly due to my camera quality. It matters more than people think. So, I saved up from the content and brand advertising gigs I got and borrowed a little from friends to get an iPhone 6.
The difference was almost immediate.
The first month using it, one of my videos blew up, hitting a million views in a week. Followers started growing exponentially, sometimes 100k a week, other times 100k in a day.
That’s when I knew this was not just fun anymore. This was now a business.
My popularity in school also exploded. Soon, I couldn’t walk around campus without someone secretly recording me to post on TikTok or freshers going crazy.
So, I started showing up only when I had strict lectures or exams. Thankfully, my classmates already knew me, so I could navigate without too much fuss. My friend group remained small and loyal, unaffected by my growing popularity. Others became acquaintances, riding the wave of my fame, but willing to help when needed.
Despite all that, I started questioning if I still needed school at all. But I had to push through. My parents never allowed me to rest, and that constant pressure, combined with my own determination, meant I couldn’t stop. I didn’t take breaks in the traditional sense, though I wasn’t present for all my lectures, especially in 400 level, where it was mostly project work.
The thought of quitting school never left my head, but I chose to see it through to the end. I got my degree.
Around this time, I began charging more for gigs. I furnished my space, bought better equipment and improved my content quality. My parents, especially my dad, were sceptical at first. But over time, he saw the money coming in, heard people talking about me, and even started watching my videos.
He eventually gave me his blessing, with one condition: that I chase my dream without compromising my morals. That blessing lit a fire in me. I went harder with my content, posting more, taking on bigger opportunities and getting recognition.
That was when I met my supposed manager. At first, he was just a loyal client who brought multiple gigs. Eventually, he positioned himself as someone who could help me grow.
When we met for the first time in Lagos in 2021, the only time we ever met, he claimed to have industry connections. At first, he seemed helpful. He secured a couple of gigs, and I thought, maybe this will be my big break.
He was a free agent with no structure, so he started manipulating payments. If a brand paid him ₦2,000 naira for my service, he would tell me I only earned ₦100. And it was from that same ₦100, he would collect his 30% manager fee.
He was a manipulative gaslighter who pretended to care about my career while exploiting me. He presented himself almost as a big brother, giving me a false sense of security. There was one brand that supposedly hadn’t paid, yet I found out months later that they had. I had to reach out to them directly, only to be shown receipts. Over time, I realised I’d lost tens of millions of naira to his schemes.
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During this period, I tried to branch into music. My first song, “Wisdom Drill,” started as a parody video, but fans loved it, so I put it on streaming platforms. In early 2023, I considered releasing another track. My manager convinced me to host a listening party, promising it would boost streams.
I was hesitant about the cost, but he assured me it would be worth it. I ended up spending nearly ten million naira on the event. People showed up, but the experience exposed how disorganised everything was, and how badly I needed a proper team.
By first the quarter of 2023, I was broke, struggling to survive on the little I had left. I even had to reach out to brands myself, realising that he had been sabotaging my career. The revelation was devastating, but it pushed me to reclaim control. I confronted him, threatened to call him out publicly, and the next day, he blocked me. When I tried to travel to Lagos to see him, I found out that he had even left the country, leaving me completely on my own. Last time I heard about him, he was in China.
His actions didn’t just rob me financially, they threatened my credibility. Brands began reaching out with legal threats, and his explanations were vague, often non-existent. I had no choice but to clean up the mess he created. It was exhausting and infuriating. Yet, it also forced me to recognise my value and the importance of taking control of my career.
Recovering from that betrayal meant starting fresh. I posted online to declare that I was no longer affiliated with him. Transparency became my guiding principle. I joined a new team that was honest, professional, and structured, giving me the support I needed to rebuild. That fresh start helped me regain credibility, attract brands again, and focus on my craft without interference.
Looking back, the journey taught me resilience. It taught me to trust my instincts, to value my work, and to understand that even in moments of overwhelming visibility, control over your own career is paramount.
By the time I had my father’s blessing and started creating with confidence, I realised something crucial: the money, the followers, and the fame were just tools. The real victory was taking charge, refusing to be manipulated, and ensuring my creativity and hustle were respected and protected.
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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TW: Revenge porn, sexual abuse, attempted suicide.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
I remember watching my primary school classmates go out to get snacks during break time and being unable to do the same because I didn’t have money. That’s when it first clicked that money was necessary to get basic things.
Did your “not having money” have anything to do with your family’s financial situation?
It did, but we weren’t poor. My mum is a teacher, and my dad is a civil servant, so they’re pretty well-to-do. But they have a scarcity mindset, which I think may have come from their childhoods. I don’t know the specifics, but they probably had limited access to money and thought their children should also have limited access to cash.
My siblings and I had to give full explanations to support any money request. At first, I thought it was normal, but I realised as I got older that their attitude towards money was extreme. It was so bad that, even when I hit puberty, my parents refused to buy me a deodorant. I was a sweaty adolescent, and everyone in my class complained of my body odour, but my parents didn’t think I needed a deodorant.
It also didn’t help that I struggled with my mental health as a kid, which further fractured my relationship with my parents. I was a withdrawn, unhappy child, and my parents didn’t understand it. Like why are you depressed when we provide every basic thing you need?
I thought they saw me as an ungrateful child and vibe killer — my mum especially — and it made it even more difficult for me to ask for money. My mum would say I didn’t deserve things because I didn’t make her happy. I kinda understand my mum now, though. It must have been difficult dealing with a child who was always sad.
Hmmm
I endured a whole lot of mental and emotional stress growing up because of all the weirdness.
There was a brief period when I was 18, and my mum became nicer to me. My parents finally took me to see a mental health specialist who said I suffered from clinical depression caused by a chemical imbalance. The diagnosis cost about ₦300k. They also prescribed me drugs for treatment, and that helped.
But the damage had already been done.
What do you mean?
It’s a long story.
I’m listening
I entered university in 2019, and my parents gave me a ₦10k/month allowance, which was barely enough for feeding. I’m sure they knew it wasn’t enough, too. But since I was uncomfortable with asking them for money, I had to sort myself out. I started dating people I shouldn’t have because they’d give me money. I also tried a few other things for money at uni.
Tell me more about these other things
The first thing I did was write. I used to write essays for my classmates in high school, so I knew I could write. I met a copywriter in school, and he put me through freelance sites like Upwork and Fiverr.
I started content writing on those sites in 2020 and got occasional ₦20/word gigs. The most I made from a gig was ₦40k for a 2k-word article. Around the same time, I began to get a considerable social media following due to some of my thirst traps I posted online. I’d also been posting some of my writing on my accounts, so when the social media attention increased, I started getting requests to write smut content.
How much were you getting paid to write smut?
The average pay per smut piece was ₦50k, and each piece contained three to five chapters. I received a lot of requests, but I only took one or two gigs weekly because the writing had to be pretty detailed, and I didn’t feel good writing it.
Why do you think that was?
The most common requests I got were about rape fetishes and gay smut that still had hints of rape. It became so irritating and uncomfortable writing these pieces that I couldn’t even read them after writing. It was quick money, but I started to hate it so much. I stopped after about nine months.
I moved on to writing music recommendations on social media. By then, I’d gotten over 10k followers and was something like an influencer. So, up-and-coming artists paid me at least ₦10k to recommend their songs. My life was going well.
Then, a few years ago, someone leaked my private photos and a sex tape, and I had to leave school.
If you have been a victim of revenge porn or you know someone who is currently being victimised, here’s a resource that can help.
Oh no. Do you have any idea how that happened?
My ex-boyfriend did it. We had a messy breakup, but it never even occurred to me that he’d do that. I didn’t even know he was holding on to those pictures and videos. I also didn’t know when the pictures started going around in my uni and on social media until a few weeks later.
You know how you never think something can happen to you, but it does anyway? That’s how I felt. I used to be super judgemental about things like that and be like, “Why can’t women be more careful?” But it happened to me, and it’s like, “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you see coming.”
I’m so sorry
It was so world-altering, and it’s crazy how much one person has impacted my life. My university got involved after someone reported that I was self-harming and hadn’t left my room in a week. The school authorities also involved my parents — I asked them not to tell my parents about the pictures, so they just thought I was depressed. I was hospitalised for three days as everyone concluded I was a danger to myself. It was also the period I finally got the clinical depression diagnosis I mentioned earlier.
My school didn’t let me write exams two different times because they wanted to make sure I was in the right mental state. However, they couldn’t do anything to stop people from sharing the pictures. Ultimately, I had to transfer to another uni towards the end of 2023.
I’m sorry you went through that
That wasn’t even all. The pictures started making rounds at my new school not long after I started there. I heard boys were literally sourcing for new pictures and selling my shit.
It was so embarrassing. I missed exams again and attempted suicide during the semester break. My parents thought it was depression again, and they went into panic mode, trying to watch over me. That was until my sister revealed that the whole thing was because my nudes leaked.
My parents were angry, as expected. It was a whole lot.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts or crisis, please reach out for support here.
Where was your head during this time?
First, I stayed away from social media. I deactivated all my accounts because some people started to recognise me from the pictures going around. I stopped writing the music recommendations because I couldn’t even think about making money.
However, I rejoined social media a few months ago when I learnt that the pictures were beginning to resurface. I try to limit the leaks by finding the account of the person actively sharing them and paying hackers between ₦60k and ₦100k to take down the accounts. When the pictures started trending again a few months ago, I reached out to the source, and this guy actually told me he was making money on my pictures, so he couldn’t take them down. He was like, “It must suck to be you.”
That’s wild
It was so shocking to me. That same day, I saw an online ad about a new platform where you could get paid to post pictures and videos. I thought it’d just be an opportunity to gather followership again and find people who liked me enough to pay for my attention. I created an account, set my subscription rate at ₦30k/month, and put the link in my social media bio.
I thought my subscription rate was ridiculous and didn’t expect anyone to pay, so I just forgot about the account. But a week later, the platform’s managers reached out to tell me I was amassing a lot of money on the platform and wanted to give me a contract. I was surprised, so I opened the account. I found ₦1m sitting in my wallet. I hadn’t even posted anything yet.
But what were they subscribing to?
Let me tell you how the platform works: Every creator’s account is locked to the public, and only a paying subscriber can see the content. The creator can also put custom content behind a different paywall and charge subscribers more to see it. When they pay, the money goes to the creator’s wallet, which they can withdraw to a bank account. The platform takes 30% as commission.
When I returned to the platform, I uploaded regular pictures at first. But then I started getting weird DMs from my subscribers about wanting explicit content. That’s when I checked other content creators’ pages and realised the platform was essentially an adult content creation platform.
Remember the contract I mentioned? The platform’s managers offered to pay me ₦800k to promote my account link three times a week on my other social media platforms for three months, in addition to whatever I made from subscriptions and other content.
It seemed like a no-brainer. At that point, all the negative attention from the leaks had become overwhelming. I couldn’t return to school because I was scared and miserable, and people avoided me. I felt like I was radioactive. I’d also told my parents I wanted to take a gap year and attend fashion school, but they refused to pay for it.
I just thought, “I’m being shamed regardless. Might as well make money from it.”
So, you started creating adult content fully
Once I started, I knew there was no going back. I moved out and went to squat with friends because I knew what I was doing would get to my parents one way or another.
Also, about a month ago, I accepted the platform’s contract and started posting explicit content. A lot has happened since then.
First, there’s the money. I’ve never seen the amount of money I’ve made this past month before. I spent several days looking at that ₦1m I made in my first week because I just couldn’t believe it.
That said, I quickly got a lot of negative attention, which in turn increased my subscribers. The attention was mostly people accusing me of my “hypocrisy.” Like, this same babe who complained about her nudes getting leaked is now doing this.
I learnt that guys from my former school were contributing money to pay for access to my content on the platform. Some of my male friends even created burner accounts to subscribe. The first two weeks were the hardest —It was difficult to become comfortable with the whole thing, and I was depressed for a bit, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.
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Has your family found out?
They found out almost immediately and were understandably upset. My parents called me via conference call, and they couldn’t wrap their heads around it. My mum and I didn’t even speak for a while. But we’re slowly getting back on talking terms.
I told my parents I needed to do it to figure out my life and get into fashion school, and they’ve been following up, especially my dad. He made sure I got an apartment and sent him receipts after paying for fashion school. My apartment cost ₦3.5m, and my tuition is ₦2.5m for a one-year program — all paid with my income. I won’t just be learning how to sew, though. The program also teaches a course on the business side of the fashion industry.
Out of curiosity, how much have you made since you’ve been creating adult content?
Over ₦10m. Most of this income came from custom content. I currently have six subscribers who consistently request custom content, and the least I charge is ₦100k. Right now, I make at least ₦800k weekly on the platform.
Interestingly, custom content isn’t always anything crazy. Sure, I get the nude photos and video requests, but some subscribers just ask for a regular conversation. They’re probably just lonely guys who want someone to talk to. But of course, there are also people with weird fetishes, which I sometimes decline.
What are some of the weirdest requests you’ve gotten?
One guy was really into armpits and kept asking for footage of my armpits in different positions. That one was just confusing.
I honestly used to think fetishes were mostly a white people thing, but Nigerians have some of the weirdest ones I’ve heard. I’ve declined requests where guys ask me to send videos where I’m peeing on myself.
People also ask for sex tapes, but I’m not comfortable with that either. There’s no way to film without showing my face. The tapes would pay more, but I already have a bad experience with them.
Right. What’s the weight of being an adult content creator on your personal life?
I struggle with the stereotype and how I’m constantly sexualised. It also hurts me when my siblings and friends text me about what I’m doing. Or when I meet guys, and they see my adult content link on my bio, and the first thing they want to do is sleep with me.
People have called me a prostitute and associated what I’m doing with sex work even though I’m not actually sleeping with anyone. I understand it, though. Nigerians can’t accept the concept of adult content creation and the immorality around it. A year ago, I wouldn’t have accepted it either.
So, I get the stigma, but I’ve learned to tune out the background noise. I now restrict my comments section and limit people’s access to me. Interestingly, the people dragging me are the same ones paying to view my content, so I’ve learned not to take the social media noise seriously anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m always unaffected by it. It’s hard. I just don’t feel like I have the right to complain because I made this decision.
I’ve also consciously begun surrounding myself with people who don’t judge me. I’m making new friends and taking each day as it comes.
Quick segue: You’ve made so much money so quickly. How do you feel about that?
Sometimes, I feel like it’s just beginner’s luck. I worry that the money will stop coming, and I fear going broke. So, I’m under intense pressure to make the right financial decisions that can guarantee me other income sources when this one stops paying.
Even if adult content doesn’t stop paying, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I pretend like I don’t give a fuck like the other creators, but I’m certain my mental health can’t handle doing this for a long time, so I’m actively considering alternatives.
Is this where fashion school comes in?
Yeah. I just started the program and will need to figure out how to run a fashion business when I’m done. I’ve also promised my parents I’ll only do adult content for the year it’ll take me to complete the program. That means I have a year to figure my shit out.
In the meantime, I want to create a brand as a fashion influencer while I still have social media attention. So, hopefully, when I go cold turkey on adult content, the attention will move to my brand.
Have there been any lifestyle changes due to the income surge?
Besides my apartment and school fees, my financial habits haven’t really changed. I squandered that first ₦1m on clothes and other essentials because I left home without packing anything. But now, I mostly keep my money. I just like looking at it in my account — possibly because I’m scared it will disappear.
Oh, and this isn’t exactly a lifestyle change, but everyone now asks me for money. My relatives and former friends literally look at my subscriber count to calculate my money. For them, that’s enough justification to bill me. It’s crazy because they judge me but still want my money. It’s weird having to say no all the time.
I might consider investments because I still need to be smart with my money. I owe that to myself because no one will come to my rescue if things go south. But for now, I enjoy looking at it while figuring out what to do.
What are your typical monthly expenses like?
Well, I’ve only had money for about a month, so I still think of my expenses on a weekly basis.
Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?
A car. I don’t even care whether it’s a Corolla or Camry; I just want something that can take me from point A to B because cabs are so expensive right now.
While I can afford a car on paper, I don’t think it’s a wise decision. It’ll most likely take a chunk of my earnings. I want to get to the point where I can buy something between ₦3m – ₦5m without stressing about how much I have left.
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 -10?
5. I feel like I’ll still have money anxiety, no matter how much I have. It took me making money to know ₦1m isn’t a lot of money and that money can go as quickly as it comes. I know I’m comfortable right now, but I’m not confident about my finances.
If you’ve been a victim of revenge porn or you struggle with your mental health, here are some resources you might find helpful:
22-year-old Layi Wasabi, born Olayiwola Isaac, is one of Nigeria’s most popular digital content creators. On the night of May 11, 2024, he won an Africa Magic Viewers Choice Award (AMVCA), the annual show that awards excellence in African cinema and television.
Since he went viral in 2021 for his skits on social media, Layi Wasabi has come to take a seat at the mainstream table. This is a timeline of his journey.
2021: Layi Wasabi started creating content
In December 2021, Layi was a law undergraduate at Bowen University when his comedy video about blocking your mum from viewing your WhatsApp status went viral, thanks to Instagram bloggers like YabaLeftOnline and Tunde Ednut. Since then, he has launched popular video characters like Professor, The Law, Officer Robert and Life Coach.
2022: Brand partnerships and cashing out
Throughout the year, he made viral videos with his comedy characters. He was also featured in various paid campaigns with big brands like Chicken Republic, Flutterwave, Laughing Out Loud Naija, Ladipoe, and Trophy Lager beer.
June 2023: Management deal
On June 23, 2023, Layi Wasabi went from handling his content creation business to being signed to Penzaaraville Africa, a talent management company known for working with brands like Bolt, Red Bull and Wema Bank
July 2023: Layi at Trendupp Awards
Layi won the Emerging Force award at the 2023 Trendupp Awards, an award ceremony for Nigeria’s digital content creators.
September 2023: Revelation of the Year
Layi caught the attention of the Wale Adenuga Production’s Nigerian Comedy Awards and won their Revelation of the Year award. The same month, he was nominated for The Future Awards Africa’s Content Creation prize.
February 2024: “Anikulapo” announcement
On February 1, 2024, Layi Wasabi announced on his page that he would star in the TV series spin-off of Kunle Afolayan’s hit movie, “Anikulapo”.
March 2024: Meta’s Creators of Tomorrow and AMVCA nomination
On March 14, Layi was among the five Nigerian content creators selected by the Instagram and Meta communities. 11 days later, Layi was nominated for Best Digital Content Creator at the 2024 African Magic Viewers Choice Awards (AMVCA).
May 2024: Layi won an AMVCA
The Africa Magic Viewers Choice Award (AMVCA) is among the biggest African film awards. In its 10th edition, Layi Wasabi won the Best Digital Content Creator award.
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?
Five-year-old me thought money used to multiply. Some context: When I was in kindergarten, I noticed people would walk up to my class teacher with one ₦50 note, and she’d give them two sachets of water and two ₦20 notes as change. In my head, I concluded one single money could give you “two money.”
LOL. Didn’t we all?
I decided to multiply my own money too. So, I took ₦50 from my mum’s purse and used it to buy water from my teacher. When she gave me the “two money”, I proudly took it home to show my mum. She was like, “So, you’ve started stealing at this age?” Good times.
Now that you mention your parents, what did they do for money?
My dad is a lecturer, and my mum has a small business.
Before secondary school, I thought we had money. Maybe it’s because I didn’t pay attention to the finances, and I had mostly all I needed. But I was definitely shocked when I started asking for money in secondary school, and my parents would always respond with, “There’s no money.”
That’s when I started realising the small things like how we never had a family outing. Even on the odd occasion when my mum bought outside food, she’d buy just two plates, and the five of us would have to manage it.
What did this realisation change?
It led to my “I need to make money” phase at 15 years old. I was in SS 3 in boarding school when I started painting my schoolmates’ nails, charging between ₦50 and ₦100. It was illegal, but I’d walk around the hostel with my nail file and nail polish, announcing, “Do your nails!” It was my trademark.
I used to make an average of ₦300 daily and lived large. I spent all my money at the tuck shop.
Did you continue after secondary school?
I wanted to, but my dad thought starting a side business would affect my studies. So, I dropped it.
I started uni in January 2020, but had to return home after a couple of weeks due to a combination of the COVID pandemic and an ASUU strike. In June, I decided to learn a skill, so I picked make-up. My mum paid ₦200k for the three-month training and the make-up box I needed. But I only practised on a few people before abandoning it.
Why?
I felt I couldn’t make people look pretty. Luckily, school resumed in 2021, and I went back to focusing on my studies.
Did you try any other thing for money?
I went to classes from home (I still do), and my dad wanted me to focus, so I couldn’t do any business.
I don’t have an allowance because he gives me transport money to school every day. The man doesn’t even know I have a bank account.
But I was on social media a lot. In 2022, I decided to give content creation a try. I thought it might be fun, and I’d also heard that creators make a lot of money.
How did that go?
I wanted to create content relatable to people like me who weren’t rich kids, so I challenged myself to live on ₦1k daily and share my results. People definitely found it relatable because my accounts grew quite quickly, and I started making money from it in 2023.
How do you make money as a content creator?
Mainly through influencing gigs. Brands reach out for custom content, and others send free gifts so I can talk about them on my channels. My first client reached out to me in January and paid ₦20k for three videos. I was ecstatic. I’d initially charged ₦25k, but I didn’t even mind. It was the motivation I needed to take creating content seriously.
The only downside is, the money is not constant, and brands sometimes owe me too. There was this brand I worked with for three months. In that time, I made 16 videos for them, and my total pay was ₦300k. They paid 40% before the campaign started, and were supposed to pay a percentage every month. But they paid another 20% in the third month, and 40% months after the campaign ended. I’ve worked with them a couple of times, and they always pay late.
Is this your regular experience with brands?
Thankfully, it’s not regular. I guess I’ve been pretty lucky. The wildest influencing gig I’ve ever gotten was from someone who paid me ₦100k just to play their song in the background of one of my videos. It was easy money.
What’s your monthly income from influencing like?
On average, ₦50k per month. Some months are better than others, though. The ₦100k gig was just last month.
What about your expenses?
Pretty moderate. I still try to live on ₦1k daily because of my content, but the way the economy is going these days means I often overshoot my budget. But I still live at home, so food and transportation to school are taken care of.
But I should confess. This moderate lifestyle is just a few months old. When I first started making money online in January, I went on a spending spree for months.
What were you spending on?
Everything I was interested in at the moment. You know how you start getting strange ideas when you have money you don’t need? That was how it was for me.
First, I decided I wanted to get into those coffee girl aesthetics. So I bought an icemaker for ₦90k and a coffee maker for ₦25k. I’ve not used them for even one day; the icemaker is still inside the carton.
Another time, I became obsessed with BookTok — the readers section of TikTok — and thought reading books would help me escape the reality of living at home. I started with fantasy and dystopian books. When I grew tired of those because the plots started to look the same, I moved to deeper self-help books. I quickly got tired of reading those as well, but I just kept buying them, telling myself I’d read them one day.
The last bulk purchase I made was in June — I bought nine books which cost almost ₦100k, plus delivery. From January to June, I spent ₦400k on over 60 books. Most of them are unread and are just sitting on my shelf. I console myself with the fact that I can still sell them someday.
Now, I’ve moved past all that and just save my money.
Do you have a savings goal?
I’m saving to get my own place. My family home is nice, but it gets tiring. Since July, I’ve tried to save 80% of every amount I get from influencing. It’s currently around ₦300k. But I’m still debating whether to stick it out till I graduate and invest my savings in a piece of land instead, so I can resell it for a profit later.
The remaining 20% of my income is the vex money I use for the odd outing, or when I need data to create content.
Can you break down your typical expenses in a month?
Data – ₦15,000
Eating out – ₦30,000
Miscellaneous – ₦10,000
I don’t spend a lot, even when creating content. I just use my phone and a tiny influencer light I bought for ₦10k on AliExpress.
Do you plan to continue creating content after uni?
Yes. It’s my backup career plan. There’s money in content creation o. I know people who don’t have a degree but make millions from it.
Plus, I did a two-month unpaid internship as part of school requirements in April, and I realised there’s no money in the course I’m studying at school. But I’m still studying hard to graduate with good grades so I can have both my degree and content creation. Then, I can stick to whatever pays more.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
I feel like I’ve been playing since, but I’m now focused on making my money work for me. I save better, and I’m deliberate about spending and managing my money. I’m active on social media, and I’m familiar with the urge to live a fake life, but I make do with what I have.
You guys recently did a video where you asked people how long it’d take them to spend ₦500k. It’d probably take me two years with how deliberate I am now.
My mindset now is, I need to make money for my future, and no one will make it for me.
How much money qualifies as “good money” to you?
I honestly can’t pick a specific figure. More money will come with more responsibilities, so I don’t think there’s a point where I’ll be satisfied. It’s always on to the next thing.
Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?
Definitely land. It’s part of my savings goals, but I want to get land in an already developed area to get better returns on investment. I’d need ₦3m – ₦4m for that.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?
10. I’m not spending my money on nonsense anymore. I know where I am now, and where I want to get to. I’ve also learned to limit impulse decisions and not do more than myself.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
Creator Spotlight is a weekly series celebrating young Nigerians in the creative industry doing unique things. Everyone has a story, and Zikoko wants to tell it.
Hi. I’m Hamda.
I’m 25, IJN. COVID stole two years of my life, so that may or may not be my actual age. I’m very crafty and hands-on. If I were a cartoon character, I’d be Bob the Builder. I illustrate, create videos, write and make outfits. I just like making shit. I think the content I create is vibes. I play a lot. I don’t take life too seriously, and I think it translates into my content. It gives off “joy”.
You have the prettiest name. Is there a story there?
This name thing! I was named after my paternal grandmother. She’s late now, and I genuinely liked her. She was so full of life. The kind of grandma who went to parties every weekend. My government name is Oladoyin Hamdallah Odukoya. I started using Hamdallah in uni because I’ve always liked my middle name, but Nigerians always mispronounce and misspell it, so I shortened it to Hamda.
Oh, I can definitely relate to that. When did you officially begin your content creator journey?
In 2021. For me it was two things: I wanted to go out more, and I wanted to document my journey. I’d heard people say I would do well as a creator because of my personality. Plus, I used to work in an agency, and the influencers’ rate cards used to wow me. I couldn’t wrap my head around how posting one video got them one million naira. So, I sat down one day and just decided I’m going to be a creator.
You’re so real for that. Do you remember your first project?
My first collaboration project was for a hair brand. They shared a promo package with me, and I’ll always remember it fondly because I felt recognised. I did an unboxing video instead of a ‘get ready with me’ and found an engaging way to tell the story.
Does what you do tie in with what you studied in school?
Nope. My parents paid school fees for me to study architecture o! I even did a masters. Last month, my uncle still called me to explain why architecture is the truth and the light, but I know I can never return to it. I quit my architecture job in 2019 because that thing was sucking my blood. I’d gotten to the point where I was dreading going to work every day. It was just depressing. I sha took a risk and quit, but the plan was to find another Architecture job. A number of interviews later, lockdown happened, and I was stuck at home. I was applying for jobs remotely, learning new architecture software — and scrolling aimlessly through social media like the rest of us.
I found content marketing by mistake. I saw one ad for digital marketing course on Instagram. I found it interesting, and it sounded like something I could do, so I applied. That was the start of my content journey.
Why did you limit “The Lagos Tourist” to Lagos?
Omo, I’ve always been within or around Lagos. I was born in Mowe, Ogun state, but my primary school was in Lagos. We used to wake up at 4:30 a.m., and my mum would drive my siblings and I to Lagos from 6:00 everyday. Lagos is home in a way. All my friends are in Lagos. I did my NYSC in Lagos. Lagos is in my blood.
I love Lagos, but omo, this city needs help. How did you catch the traveling bug?
If you’ve ever heard the phrase, “Omo, get inside,” that was me. I think it’s one of the major reasons I’m an explorer as an adult. How did I start travelling? Depression, bro. 2019 to 2020 was the most mentally draining period of my life. I just knew I needed to get outside more. It started from taking morning and evening walks, and I saw how that uplifted my mood.
I wanted to travel, but Nigeria and sapa did not allow me to be great. So, I decided to explore locally, and I began to go to different places once or twice weekly. It was generally feel-good, and it helped with my state of mind.
What are some of the best projects you’ve worked on?
The most exciting one so far was my first trip. I think I’m very sentimental about it because it was a reassurance that my community actually sees me, the way they showed up for me. We went to Omu Resort, and it was the first time I organised an event, so I kept stressing over the tiny details. But it turned out well, and I used it as a template for future trips.
Has it been smooth sailing ever since?
I still struggle with taking risks. For every major risk I’ve taken, there was some external push. It shocks me how much people believe in my skills sometimes.
What’s the most and least you’ve charged to create content?
The least I’ve gotten paid for content was ₦30k. The most I’ve charged was ₦1m.
How do you price these things?
I have a rate card that states the cost of each content format — reels, feed post, story and in-person appearance. In the end, it all boils down to negotiation between me, my manager and the client. We agree on the content type and projected timelines. I always require creative freedom because I work best when my mind is free. We send an invoice, and alert ma wole.
Have you ever regretted taking a bet on yourself with content creation?
I never really regret anything because I tend to do things with my chest. I have a coconut head, and it comes with the package. I think it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made because I make more money as a content creator than from my 9-5. But I still feel like I’m just starting out. I have some structure, with two managers — a talent manager who helps with daily content and client negotiations, and an events manager who plans my trips and experiences.
Initially, I would create content blindly, but I’m finally hacking the monetisation aspect of it and how to leverage communities. I’ve not neared my peak yet.
Why is it important for you to be managed by two people?
I used to have one manager to manage me and the event side of things. But I realised how hard it was to balance. She was really great on the client management side, but the events kept suffering.
And although I’m not a fulltime creator yet, I work like one. So the pressure was a lot. I was burning out quickly, and it was telling on my work across board.
I had to hire the events manager. Now, I handle creating the actual content — scripting, shooting, video editing. One manager helps with contract negotiation, responding to mails and generally getting brands to approach “The Lagos Tourist” brand. And the other does things like location scouting and vendor management. Sometimes, we’re intertwined. Everybody chips in on content and gives feedback.
How do you stay so relatable?
I think I’ve hacked Nigerian storytelling. We like drama, we like gist — this helps me craft my scripts properly. I’m also always on social media, so I know what’s trending in the country. It’s basically just staying abreast with cultural trends and telling that story with my brand voice.
Any longterm projects we should expect?
Yes! Just know it involves plenty of group travels. I also want to delve into podcasting, but I can’t tell you much about it now because it’s still in the development phase.
What’s something you’d have done differently now that you know better?
Three things. First, I would’ve put out content on TikTok and YouTube from day one. My Instagram page growth has been amazing, but I know if I’d just repurposed the content for TikTok and YouTube shorts, I would’ve grown my page across board. Doing it now feels like a chore. Na every time my manager dey drag me.
Another thing is, I would’ve reached out for more collaborations when I first started. I’m a generally shy person even though nobody ever believes me when I say so. It was only when other creators started reaching out for collabs that I realised the importance of it. I’m still a shy girl, but I’ve been accepting more invitations and intentionally asking people whose content I resonate with for potential collabs.
The third thing I would’ve done differently is charge enough from the start. If I had been communicating with other creators, I could’ve asked them what they charged at what point. In the creator economy, nobody really knows what anybody else charges, and when you first start out, you’re never sure if you’re overcharging or undercharging. So, yeah, I definitely would’ve asked fellow creators more questions.
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I’m Chinaza. I’m 25, and I’m a content creator. I make short Nollywood skits where I play myself and a very realistic male character. I pretty much stay in my house all day, shooting. If I’m not shooting, I’m editing, gaming or sleeping. I’m the worst person to ask what their favourite food is. So long as it tastes nice, I’ll eat it. As for colours, I love black. But I also like blue and purple. I feel like life’s too short to be restricted to certain things. Whatever feels, looks or tastes nice, just go with it.
Gaming? What do you play?
God of War, Call of Duty, The Last of Us and Red Dead Redemption. I play anything but soccer. I don’t see the point. You just keep kicking the ball around; I’ve never understood it.
The question boggling my mind about your skits is how… how do you have so much chemistry with yourself?
First of all, I’m androgynous. Growing up, I was the only child, and my parents were very protective of me. I wasn’t allowed to go out, much less make friends. They were very sceptical, so I spent a lot of time in my own company, watching people. As a child, I never leaned toward any gender completely. If I bring out my childhood pictures, you’d mistake me in some of them for my brother. When I did make friends, they were boys.
Have you named the male version of yourself?
No, I haven’t. But I’m planning to.
When you walk in on me shooting, it’s a different person. I’ve actually shot with people, and the moment I finished dressing up, they’d be like, “Wow! There’s a change around here.” I don’t know how it happens.
You’re really committed. You wear a bodysuit and even cut your hair
In 2020, I went the whole year without doing anything to my hair. I didn’t make it. I didn’t care for it. I just ended up looking like I had rats running through it. I realised that since I play a male character, keeping a low cut would make it easier.
You’re right, I’m committed. Becoming that character is a sort of escapism. I feel like a whole new person. There’s this feeling, this aura. I get to be two different people.
You make it look so easy. What’s your content creation story?
I’ve just been coasting through life. I grew up in the east, Anambra. As a child, I wanted to be an actor. I was 15 and in university when I started to reach out to producers and directors. You can count only a handful of Asaba directors or producers I don’t know or haven’t met. I met a whole lot of them, and at the end of the day, they were all asking for the same thing.
Oh no. You were just a baby
Oh yes. And they didn’t care.
There was this guy — he was quite popular, and I don’t want to name names. He gave me a script to read so I could hone my scriptwriting skill, then asked me to see him at a hotel. He’s been in the game since the early Nollywood days. That’s how old he was. He tried to kiss me, but I resisted. I was like, “Hello. When did we go from reading scripts to kissing?” He smiled and asked how old I was. I said 15. He smiled again and said, “You’re young. Everything you’ve done and have yet to do has been forgiven”. I gave him back his script and left. He said he’d reach out to me but never did. He stopped picking my calls. But at least, that one took my no for no.
This other director told me everybody pays their dues in the industry because I said I believed my talent and God would take me to wherever I wanted to be. He told me that what I was saying was laughable because, before Lucifer’s fall, he was the chief angel of entertainment. And after he was cast out, God didn’t take that power from him. The entertainment industry is governed by Lucifer, so my God and I can fuck off.
That’s a lot. You were a kid. Were your parents aware?
The incident that made them know was really nasty, and I still can’t talk about it. I’ve always been very curious and independent. When I want something, I go for it. There was even a time I went to Enugu to see Pete Edochie, unplanned.
Omo? You’re bold oh
I got to Enugu and started asking people on the streets for his address. It was crazy. Somehow, I located his house. I waited for some time before he came down. I told him I wanted to act and had been trying for some time. He asked me how old I was. I told him I was 15 and in my first year of university. He scolded me and told me not to rush. I should go back and focus on school. I won’t say I listened, but I had a nasty experience that eventually made me stop. That was the last straw.
Around that time, skit-making was becoming popular, so my friends were like, “All these people are doing these skits from their homes.” I wanted to act, but who would watch me? But I eventually shot a video, posted it, and people liked it. This was around 2015. I started fully in 2017, so I’ve been at it for six years now. The growth was exponential. My creations were Nollywood-based. I migrated from Instagram to TikTok in November 2021.
When did you have your first viral video?
I posted grace to grass stories, “Nollywood Movies Be Like” and more. One day, I checked my phone and saw +100 followers and +100 notifications. Tunde Ednut and Don Jazzy had reposted one of my videos. It was everywhere.
There was also this competition Larry Gaga hosted. At the time, I wanted a new workstation, which cost ₦1.5 million, so I needed all the money I could get. That was the first time I posted on TikTok with intention, and I got 500 views. I won the competition and I think that was my second viral post.
What was the first Nollywood movie you saw that made you want to make Nollywood skits?
For someone who makes short Nollywood skits, you’d think I watch many of them. I didn’t watch television because of my strict parents. I started watching Nollywood movies, and none really stood out for me. I just found it easy to spot the cliches. I don’t reference any movies; I just stitch up words and cliches I have heard Nollywood characters use, and I run with them.
Did you study something related to your content creation?
I studied English because my dad wouldn’t let me do Theatre Arts. I don’t write scripts except when a client specifically asks for it. Most of my acting is by impulse. I don’t think about them; I just know what I’m going for and how it should come out.
What’s your dream cast and plot?
I have a story in my head. I don’t have the capacity for it now, but one day, I will. I hope Pete Edochie will still be alive by then because I need him in it. So there’s him, Blossom Chukwujekwu, Stan Nze, Jimmy Odukoya. It’ll be an epic movie.
If you don’t watch a lot of Nollywood movies, why did you pick this form of creative expression?
I stuck to Nollywood because I started taking TikTok much more seriously. The post I made for the competition was Nollywood cliche-themed. Because it did well, I made another one, which did even more numbers. The content transcended my regular audience. People from China, who’d never heard of Nollywood, were asking for more. And the slap-stick industry was becoming saturated. I’m not even good at it; it doesn’t come naturally to me. I just wanted something different. The moment I left the slap-stick comedy niche, I lost some of my audience. But when people look at my work, I want them to see the effort and thought that went into it. I just needed something special.
You do good work
I give my character’s backstories. I try to get into their mind. Who is this character? A lover boy? A wicked prince? I know how the character walks and talks. The moment I have all that in my head, I’m that person. For instance, the very clear difference between my male and female characters is that I suddenly take up more physical space when I’m the male character. The way I walk and speak is different.
How much time and money goes into making one video?
It takes more time and effort than money. I could manoeuvre my screen the way I want, and I already have a wardrobe full of costumes. There was one video I spent more than ₦100k to make. It was about the different tribes in Nigeria, so I had to get the different costumes. And I can spend up to a week making a video. When I say a week, I mean several hours back-to-back.
What does a typical day of creating content look like?
I usually sleep from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. When I wake up, I eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. I like setting up my shoot at 11 p.m., and depending on what I’m working on, I may be at it till 10 a.m. Then I sleep and wake up again around 5 p.m. to continue. It has altered my circadian rhythm because even when I take breaks, even when I am not working, I find myself sleeping through the day and being up at night.
What are your rates like?
I charge brands from ₦500k to ₦700k for ads. It’s efficient. I’m not as poor as my enemies think I am, but I’m also not as rich as some people think.
What would you being rich look like?
Being rich would entail waking up one morning and impulsively booking a flight to Paris to get ice cream and come back. I make enough to put food on my table and satisfy my basic needs, but I can’t go on a spending spree or splurge money the way I would want. My income isn’t consistent, so I have to make do, and plan ahead, even though it’s hard. There are some months I eat really well; I’d have like three clients I’m creating for. Then I could go three months without a client.
How many videos do you think you’ve created?
I don’t keep count. One thing about me is once I’ve created and posted a video, it’s gone. When I do visit them again, I’m usually like, I should’ve done better.
Who or what influences you?
Kunle Afolayan, Jade Osiberu, Charles of Play — he has a lot of money to pursue his dreams, and he pursues them. Art should be all about pure passion, but unfortunately, that will get you only so far. In the real world, you need more than that. You need flamboyance, exposure and connection. If you want to make it purely on passion, make peace with the fact that you won’t achieve your full potential. You need money, you need to know people to push your art, no matter how good it is.
What do you do when you’re not creating?
Sleep. I close my eyes and sleep. And sometimes, I game. I’ve also made a promise to myself to go out a bit more and meet people. Since I shot that video for the TikTok competition, I don’t think I’ve left my house more than 20 times. I just shoot and post. In 2023, I’ll go out more and maybe find love.
What’s the most annoying thing about your work?
When I decide to try something different once in a while, people will be like, ”No, no. This isn’t why we’re here.” And I’m like, “Shut the fuck up”. Or when you offer your two cents about a concerning issue, I’ll hear, “You better focus on your comedy.” It’s annoying.
What sort of impact do you want to make in the industry within the next couple of years?
I have a dream of owning a film school one day. I don’t even know how to go about that, but I’d like to see actors with more skills in the industry. When you watch a good movie, you watch an actor become the character they’re playing. It feels like they’re in their house in that movie. It feels real. You can see the connection. But when you watch a movie, and it feels like the home is from Airbnb, I want that to change.
Do you feel fulfilled yet, though?
I could be doing more. There are days when I feel fulfilled, and there are other days I just don’t know. I try to tell people, and they don’t understand.
Do you struggle with imposter syndrome?
All the time. I know I dey try, but when people post my work, I’m like, are you gassing me up? I feel my own audience may be lying to me, so what I do when different accounts share my work is I go through the comments. Because I feel I would see the truth there, from complete strangers who’d rate my work without sentiments. Most times, though, it’s the same praise.
Local content is beginning to outcompete international films in Africa as rapid smartphone penetration and an affordable and expanding internet bring African creatives closer to audiences.
By Seth Onyango, Bird Story Agency
African creatives are finding a new audience among the youth, who according to the latest Africa No Filter report have grown their proclivity for local content.
The narrative change organisation’s report indicates Africans are consuming African films equally as much as they consume the US or international content.
“Most respondents watched films every week, whether local/African films (67%) or US/international films (66%). Among respondents who had watched between one and seven films, slightly more respondents had watched local or African films (57%) than international or US films (53%),” the report reads in part.
Regionally, North Africans were the least likely to have watched a film (45%) but were equally as likely to have watched local/African and US/international films (51%).
West Africans were marginally more likely to have watched local/African films (70%) compared to international films (67%).
“International films received a marginally greater audience in East Africa (78%) and Southern Africa (73%) compared to local/African films. Respondents from Côte d’Ivoire were most likely to have watched a film, whether local/African (86%) or international/US (76%),” Africa No Filter, a donor collaborative that supports African narratives, reports.
“Given the minor discrepancies, it seems that audiences are as interested in watching local/African films as they are in watching international ones.”
Recent studies also show that Africa’s young population is helping to drive video subscription business revenue for streaming services as content on the go shakes the African media market.
Digital TV Research’s figures now show the continent will have 13.64 million paying Subscription-Video-on-Demand (SVOD) by 2027, up from 4.90 million at end-2021.
Household SVOD subscriptions will still remain low compared to more mature markets like Europe.
Digital TV Research further shows some 6.6% of TV households will pay for at least one subscription by 2027 – up from 3.9% at end-2021.
International streaming services like Netflix have also taken note of the shifting trend in Africa towards local content and are now co-producing both films and reality series like the popular Young, Famous & African.
Tellingly, Netflix now has a category of “Made in Africa” and “Nollywood” which highlights how serious it conceives the African market.
While Africa’s ballooning youth population and growing middle class could represent a profitable niche for streaming services, this could also be a big opportunity for African production industries.
However, Nigerian film critic Wilfred Okiche, warns that Nollywood may, for now, have lost its shine and that the Netflix “opportunity” should be handled with care.
“For independent Nollywood filmmakers, the Netflix relationship is a lifeline to an industry badly in need of structural uplift, having hit something of a plateau with both video and theatrical, its two primary distribution models,” Okiche argues.
Netflix, Showmax, Disney, and Amazon have been studying consumer habits on the continent to appeal to its one billion-plus audience.
Netflix has about 2.6 million subscribers in Africa and wants to grow that number to 5 million by 2025. The number of people watching movies on the platform is said to be much higher, factoring in family sharing by its premium subscribers.
Netflix’s chief rival, MultiChoice’s Showmax, which has invested heavily in original African content, is beginning to reap the reward as African content now accounts for 40% of its viewing.
MultiChoice is Africa’s largest pay-TV group, available in 50 African countries. Its streaming service launched in 2015 and is available in 46 African countries, as well as in Britain and France, where it targets the African diaspora.
In April this year, the streaming service said it will double its investment in creating movies and shows set in its biggest markets of Nigeria, Kenya, and South Africa.
Meanwhile, the Africa No Filter report further found that African writers are not writing for local audiences, the continent’s readership also hardly reads for pleasure.
Hardly any respondents had also read a book in the month before the interview; 75% with 71% had not read any African authors.
“This indicates that African authors are not attracting an African youth audience. We also compared the respondents’ reading habits, asking how many books by African and/or international authors they had read for pleasure over the last month,” Africa No Filter notes.
Hi, I’m Blessing. I’m 25, a skateboarder, and a community developer. Dencity is my community.
Something people don’t know about me is I’m from Cross River. I enjoy seeing groups of girls skating, especially after seeing a movie about a girl skate group. And I decided we needed something like that in Nigeria.
I started coming to the stadium. This was before the lockdown, and back then, there were just two guys who skated. I started skating fully in 2021 when I began Dencity. I was like, “Since there’s no community, why don’t I build it?” I started posting my videos and telling people, “I’m a girl who skates. If you want to join me, here’s my number. Meet me here,” and they did.
Is that how Dencity kicked off?
Yeah, I just started Dencity last year, and we host sessions at the National Stadium. We also host events in Abuja and Port Harcourt. And Dencity is in five states now, and I love it.
Dencity Lagos
Why was it important for Dencity to exist?
It’s good to see so many girls interested in it. According to some people, “it’s a masculine sport,” so being in Nigeria, it’s euphoric for me every time I come out and see all the girls skating. Even when we recently hosted a beach thing, the number of people that showed up stunned me.
Wow, that’s super cool. What else influenced you to skate?
I was into sports growing up and was even my secondary school’s games prefect. So when I was really young, I watched a movie I can’t remember, about skateboarding, and I wanted to learn how to do it because it looked cool.
In the movie, people were doing crazy tricks. I thought, “How can you fly from this place to this place?” It was just really fascinating to me.
How are you already so good after a year of skating?
I’m not that good! I’m still trying to be better every day. I want to land a kickflip before the end of this month. I just know I can get better, and I will.
Were you with another group before Dencity?
No. But now, I’m also signed to Waffles and Cream, a community of like minded creatives bringing a genuine approach to celebrate subcultures. I work there, and the management owns WAF, the brand, so there’s that.
How did you get signed?
I posted videos of me skating on Instagram. Then, I started talking to and skating with a guy called Henry, who used to work at WAF. One day, I had a board that wasn’t too good, and he asked me to bring it to the shop so they could change it for me. I got there and introduced myself to JOMI, WAF’s owner. He set up my board for free.
Back then, I was working a 9-5. I’d work and skate afterwards at the stadium or freedom park.
Why did you need management?
Skateboarding is now popular. People like to add skateboarders to their music videos or get us to wear their brand for photo shoots. And skateboards aren’t cheap. It’s like ₦105k. If you like what I’m doing and think it’s cool, pay me. They don’t enjoy paying. They just want to “collaborate”. Come on. I need to buy my boards and pay for transport to come out and skate. I also need to pay bills.
Yet Dencity is free?
Yeah, it is. I provide the boards for 70% of the girls in Dencity because I know it’s tough for us girls. I know what I went through at first. People kept saying, ”This sport is for boys. Na man thing you dey do.” Like, guy, I just want to have fun. I know how parents frown on stuff like this, so I wasn’t about to let them struggle through all that.
Did your parents give you hell for your hobby?
Nope. I’m 25! My parents are in Calabar. I’m alone here in Lagos. I came without a job or anything.
That’s like the Nollywood Lagos dream
It was not the dream, oh. A job brought me here, but it ended up being a scam. After I got to Lagos, they switched their numbers off. I sent countless emails, and nobody replied.
I’m so sorry that happened. What’s your favourite thing about skating?
Learning a new trick. I’m currently learning to kickflip, and as soon as I land it, I’ll go for thanksgiving. Before you ask, no, there’s no easy trick to land. Skating is hard. You just have to keep trying.
What do you do outside of skating?
Oh wow, I feel like a boring person. If I’m not skating, I’m working or at a party. I love techno and house music.
What does fulfillment in your skating career look like?
I don’t have a career yet, but I want to be signed by Adidas. I love them so much. I love their shoes and clothes. I’m always wearing Adidas.
I’m hoping in two to three years, Dencity will leave the stadium and have its own skate park and shop, so girls can skate and work. I want to grow a community where everyone who just wants to meet people can have a space. Not just for skating, you know?
Many people I’ve met while skating have become some of my closest friends. I enjoy coming to the stadium to teach the Dencity community new tricks, see their progress and just skating together. We come, skate, take pictures and hang out. It’s a safe space to be comfortable and express yourself. I feel so fulfilled already. I’m thrilled you can find Dencity in other states. I wanted this, and it’s just the beginning.
Hi, I’m Mitya, my pronouns are she/her and I’m a food critic and tourist. My food ick is I have a problem with people who soak garri with groundnut and milk. And for an Igbo person, I don’t like ukwa. Something people don’t know is I’m reticent. I’m always expected to be outgoing and the life of the party, but I’m that millennial you’ll find sleeping at the club by 4 a.m.
Confession time. I remember seeing you on my timeline, always eating a lot of eggs
Oh no. You know the crazy egg lady. I used to talk about her like she never existed and tried to deny her. Those were dark times. But eating eggs is a big part of my diet. I support Ghanaians; eggs can go with anything. Egg in pepper soup, ogbono, banga and okro soup slaps. I’ve decided not to be in the egg closet anymore, so I’m coming out now to say I’m proud of it.
I… Wow. Was that how you got into mukbangs?
In 2020, I went on my first food tour of Akwa-Ibom. While I was there, we got the news COVID had hit. I was with my sister and friends, so we had to return to Warri. It didn’t take long before there was a lockdown. I’ve always had a passion for food, so when I couldn’t travel to create content, I decided to start making mukbang content. For me, it was trying to show the world what I’m capable of through eating, basically, for bragging rights. I got into mukbangs because I love food. Food for me is better than love. It’ll never break your heart.
Mitya’s first mukbang.
How many states have you created content in since then?
I’ve made content in Asaba, in Delta state, which is where I live. I’ve been to Port Harcourt, Yenogoa, Oshogbo, Abuja, Lagos, Maiduguri, Ilorin and Ibadan. Just seven so far.
How did you stay safe in Maiduguri?
After I went to Maiduguri, I realised all the rest of Nigeria sees is stories about the bombing and crises. I’m not a fearful person; I have a lot of passion for what I do and a “you only live once” mindset, so I don’t care if I die doing what I love. So yes, I went there because I needed to tell their story differently from what mainstream media shows. I understand it’s dangerous, but there’s a lot more happening in these places.
You’re fearless o
Actually, Maiduguri was peaceful when I was there, but the surrounding towns weren’t. In fact, after I left, I heard about a bomb blast in Maiduguri. But before you ask, I can’t wait to go back there, that’s how much I enjoyed it. It’s a secular state, and while I tried to blend in by wearing a hijab, there was no need to. I met friendly people, and they have Christians there too.
And what about the language barrier?
I kept meeting people who spoke English. Many people speak Hausa there, but it’s not a major dialect in Maiduguri. I wouldn’t have known that if I’d never visited. I also got to eat a bunny there.
What does a bunny taste like? Wait, don’t answer. What are some other weird foods you’ve eaten?
I wouldn’t say weird, but the most challenging thing I’ve tried was the edible worms/tree lava called “Bayelsa suya”. It’s a major delicacy in Bayelsa, and while I wasn’t crazy about it, it’s an acquired taste. In Maiduguri, there were locusts which tasted like dried shrimps, camel meat slow-cooked over gas and a roasted bunny rabbit.
The poor rabbit.
Mitya with edible worms.
Her eating locust.
Mitya eating a monitor lizard in Ilorin.
Does your day job fund your mukbangs?
Yes, but it’s not a nine-to-five. I co-own a food consulting company. We hire staff for restaurant development, social media management/strategy, staff training and tour guides. I mean, travelling and eating are expensive.
What’s the most and least expensive state you’ve been to so far?
Both my Abuja food tours were costly. The cheapest was Osun state. At a point, I was even begging people to take my money there.
Travel to Osun, noted. Do you have a favourite state you’ve visited?
No. Every state has its special memory and amazing food, and I wouldn’t compare them. Eating local dishes in their states of origin hits different. It’s like the dish is telling you a story, and my job is to tell stories about the culture of people through food. Nothing connects people like food, not even football.
What are the best and worst things people have said about your mukbangs?
People have told me I’ll die soon, or be hospitalised, and I’m wasting money. Some have said I only do this because a man is funding me. Despite all that, I love when my old followers are proud of me and acknowledge my growth. Or when I leave food reviews, and people tell me it helped boost sales.
There’s also my dada. Being my biggest fan, he’d comment on every post and help me shoot videos; he still does these things. I got him to participate in a mukbang contest one time, and he won. People loved it. He’s where I got my appetite from.
How fulfilled do you feel?
I don’t always feel fulfilled — sometimes, I get imposter syndrome — but what I do makes me happy. If I wasn’t creating mukbang, I’d be a poet. In fact, I’m a poet. I just didn’t blow with that one. All I want from life is to keep doing things that help me express myself.
What’s something you wish food content creators would do?
I feel like sometimes, we are passive about our Nigerian dishes. I don’t see the excitement or flair we give western foods. I’m very pro-African food; my social media is full of it. Afro-fusion is nice, but our dishes are magical on their own. All of us as content creators need to shine more light on Nigerian Cuisine.
That’s why when I travel I make sure to showcase the traditional dishes of that particular region. There’s much more to Nigerian cuisine than suya, Jollof rice, Egusi soup and fufu, and food content creators across Nigeria can help showcase that.
