From YouTube videos on Forex to ₦50k courses on copywriting, the internet is full of people promising to teach you how to make money, even if you have no skill. But good editing and big grammar aren’t enough to make anyone pay ₦100k for an e-book. What really sells is a financial success story: screenshots of 2M credit alerts, expensive wigs, and a brand-new GLE.

Unfortunately, behind most of those screenshots is a history of bad money decisions. For every woman who cashed out from crypto, there’s another who lost her house rent to Forex. Money wins are easy to post, but money mistakes can be embarrassing to talk about. 

In this article, four Nigerian women share their experiences with fraud, debt, and financial mistakes that nearly took their lives. 

“I Joined a Toxic Thrift Collective “— Oma*20

I had a roommate who used to talk about how being part of an Ajo (thrift) was how she was able to afford the expensive wigs, clothing and other items that she had. I thought if she, someone who didn’t even have a job, could do it, I could too. I was earning money, even though I was freelancing. 

There were two options for the thrift: ₦12,000 every 12 days or ₦6000 every 12 days. The payout for the ₦12k option was bigger. So, even though it was my first time, I went for that option. I didn’t have a stable income, yet every 12 days, I would produce that money without fail. Sometimes I wouldn’t have the ₦12k, but some miracle would happen at the last minute, and I’d pay the money. 

It started to go wrong the one time I didn’t have the money to pay. Typically, on the last day of the 12-day window, the handler would start sending messages to the group chat. She would say that the person who is to collect their money that day is on her neck, and everyone should pay up. She would insult and tag people who hadn’t paid.

That day, I stayed cooped up in my room, hoping that no one would notice I hadn’t paid. Then I started to get numerous calls and threats from people in the group saying that they would find me and deal with me. I was tagged repeatedly, and the person who invited my roommate to the Ajo group came to my DM to beg me to pay. She said if I didn’t pay, the handler would post her pictures all over the internet, labelling her a thief and a fraud. 

Apparently, at the beginning of the Ajo, everyone sent their pictures as proof of trust, promising not to disappear after getting their money. I wasn’t asked for my picture, but I think it was because I was the last person to join. 

It was very traumatic. I called all the people I could call who could lend me money, and eventually had to use someone else’s money that was kept with me to pay up. I’m just so glad that they didn’t have my picture to post.  

I waited patiently till the Ajo was over to get my money, then I deleted the group and blocked everyone who had contacted me. After a few weeks, that same roommate texted me that they wanted me to join another Ajo. Once bitten? Twice shy. Anything that I cannot save in my VFD bank or on PiggyVest does not deserve to be saved. 

Given the chance to start over, I wouldn’t even join in the first place. What I learnt from this experience is that even if you must do Ajo, do it with people that you know and share mutual respect with. If you don’t know the people doing it personally, don’t join it. Instead, start one with your friends, and please be kind. But me and Ajo? We can never cross paths again in this lifetime. Never. 

“I started a business and ended up eating all my goods” – Mirabelle* 51

In 2022, I decided to start a business because I was tired of being a full-time housewife who did not have her own income. I decided I was going to open a food-stuff store because I saw in a dream that I would prosper if I sold foodstuffs. After my pastor confirmed this, I began to badger my family until they contributed ₦500k for me to start the business. They gave me the money on the condition that I wouldn’t come to them with financial issues till the end of that year.  

We live in a remote part of town, but because I have health issues, I can’t open a business too far from home, the daily commute alone would be too much for me. My husband told me that it would be a bad idea to open a store so far from town, but he’s never supportive of my business ventures, so I can never tell when he’s being helpful with criticism or trying to talk me out of something that has the potential to succeed. 

I added my savings to the money my family gave me and opened a small store opposite the estate we live in, and like my husband predicted, traffic was very slow. Around that time, I had gotten close to a woman in my church whom I confided in about my business struggles. She advised me to add drinks to the things I sell. Conveniently, she and her husband sold drinks. 

After that conversation, she started to sell wholesale drinks to me at retail prices. I would then resell these drinks, but I didn’t realise that I was losing money because I was reselling at my cost price and bearing the transportation costs. But I didn’t investigate those losses out of gratitude; they were selling the drinks to me on credit.  

At the same time, I was buying bags, shoes and clothes from them on credit too, with the promise that I would pay back when my business became successful. After a while, family friends started patronising me, and the business picked up, but I was putting the profits I made from the business in my personal account. At some point, I did not know which money was for my business and which one was for me; I was spending it all together. 

I would take bags of rice and oil from my store when we needed food at home, but my husband would not pay for these things. At some point, we were eating half of the goods in the shop, and I was selling half. 

By the end of the year, my shop was empty and I had no capital left. I moved what was left of the goods to my house and closed the shop. At that point, I had racked up a ₦400k debt with that woman and her husband. They started to call me incessantly and leave me threatening messages. I stopped going to church or leaving the house because they lived in the neighbourhood and would see me. I fell violently ill, and I hid it from my husband until they threatened to expose me in front of all our church members.  It took my mother and me half a year to finish paying the debt.

 I have learned the hard way that if something looks too good to be true, it probably is. 

“I Slept Off And Lost 250k on My First Forex Trade” – Ewa* 21

I started trading because someone shared on their Snapchat story that it was laughably easy to make money from Forex. For the people interested, he created a group and charged 80k as a joining fee. He was going to be dropping signals on when to buy and sell in the group, and all I had to do to cash out was follow his signals on when to buy or sell on a trade. 

The offer was too good to pass up, so I paid and downloaded the trading app. Little did I know that even with a signal, you can’t make money from trading if you don’t know the basics. You won’t be able to tell when to enter a trade, how to spot a wrong signal, how to put a stop-loss or recognize when you’re making a high-risk trade with an account that can’t withstand the loss. 

He told me to put ₦100k in my trading account, and then he sent a signal. I made a big trade with just ₦100k in my account. I closed my eyes and took a short nap. When I woke up, I found out that the trade had dipped and all my money was gone. 

I told myself not to panic, and it was just because I had slept and that I would make the money I lost with my next trade. The next day, I put another ₦50k in the account, and I lost it again. It was after the third loss that I stopped and asked myself what the hell I was doing. Mind you, this money was money I was supposed to use for my project. 

I was very depressed. I’m just lucky that I had another job that paid me 50k and that I got another 50k cash gift. Eventually, I had to go home to confess and beg my mother for money. 

After those losses, I stepped back and went to learn how to trade. Whoever told you that you can trade without having serious skills and mad resistance to high blood pressure is lying to you.  I only trade occasionally these days, and till today, I don’t trade on Tuesdays because that incident happened on a Tuesday. 

“I Borrowed Money From Opay to Eat” – Kiki* 23

Earlier this year, I had to go back to school, and I was flat-out broke. I had no way to cover my feeding, rent, data, transport, and the rest of my bills. I saw the option to take a loan on the Opay app, and out of desperation, I applied for one. It wasn’t a lot of money; just enough to cover my transportation and feeding for a short period while I figured out a more permanent solution. 

The minute the loan (about ₦20k) went through, I realised that I’d made a mistake by not thinking about how I was going to pay back the money I’d borrowed. It was too late to return the loan once they gave me the money, because I would have to pay the interest regardless of whether I paid it back instantly or on the given date. 

The anxiety from the loan ate me up from the first day I took it till the day it was due. That loan did not solve my problems; it just became another thing I had to deal with on top of all my other pending bills. I was hungry, tired, losing sleep, living in a shitty apartment, and I owed Opay.

As the due date came closer, my anxiety grew worse. At some point, I was so sure I was going to kill myself because of how bad it was. I had no money, and I was in debt for God’s sake. 

The worst feeling in the world is probably being a debtor. If you don’t know how you’ll pay back a loan, please don’t take it. You will cry blood. It won’t solve your problems; it will just give you one more thing to worry about. Till now, I’ve still not been able to pay back that money. 

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You’ve heard of the ‘one-minute’ man and the man who just ‘can’t get it up’ on the internet, but not about women who can’t have sex.  

To a lot of people, the worst problem a woman can have with sex is being bad at making it enjoyable for her partner or issues with her partner’s size. Contrary to this opinion, some women have bigger problems than being bad at sex. Many women cannot physically or mentally ‘get it up’.

For the average man dealing with sexual dysfunction, the height of his day-to-day problems is getting scammed with concoctions from vendors who promise that they can make him last longer in bed. It’s not as straightforward as that for women who struggle with sexual dysfunction. 

For women with pain disorders like vaginismus, dyspareunia and vulvodynia, sexual dysfunction goes beyond low libido and an orgasm gap; it often means severe pain disguised as intercourse. But we don’t like to talk about the fact that many women have normalised painful sex.

In this article, we speak to Ella*, a 23-year-old woman on vaginismus, dealing with health-care providers and what difficulties with sex mean for her sex life. Alongside the pain of vaginismus, Ella also deals with recurring vaginal infections, and together these issues mean she spends nearly as much as Nigeria’s minimum wage just managing her sexual health.

When Did You First Notice That Something Was Wrong With Your Sex-Life?

I can’t say exactly when I noticed that sex was different for me. But before I started having sex, I noticed that putting my fingers in my vagina slightly hurt. I assumed it was because of fingernails and just decided to avoid finger insertion as much as possible. 

What Was Your First Sexual Experience Like?

It hurt terribly, but I chalked it up to it being my first time. For me, the experience felt like something a woman who gave birth without the help of modern medicine would go through. It hurt that much.

I thought everybody had painful sex, and I kept wondering why there was so much hype about it. Why were women claiming to enjoy something that hurt so badly? Were we all just collectively lying to save face? As I continued having sex, I started doing my own personal research, and I discovered that it wasn’t supposed to hurt so badly. 

Is That What Made You Decide to Talk to a Doctor About Painful Sex?

Not exactly. I was tired of trying by myself, and I wanted professional advice. Or at least a final solution that would end the suffering. It can be very frustrating to have a problem you have no idea how to solve. Plus, my partner and I joke that I’m a baker because yeast is plentiful at bakeries.

I get a vaginal infection every other month. Sometimes, I even know the bacteria/fungi causing it before I get the test done. I was tired of taking Levofloxacin (an antibiotic used to treat bacterial vaginosis) all the time, and I really wanted it to stop.  All my friends (my body and I) hate Levofloxacin. 

What Was Your First Doctor’s Appointment Like?

I went to a private hospital because public hospitals don’t take issues like this seriously. I first saw a regular doctor, who referred me to a gynae. When I came in, the gynae said he wasn’t informed, but that was the least of my problems that day.  While he occasionally said insightful things, I could tell he was not listening to what I had to say.  To him, since I’m a young, unmarried woman without kids, there was no reason for me to concern myself with sex.  I left the hospital with my problems unaddressed. 

Did You Come Back After That?

No. I didn’t go to that hospital again for sex related issues. I only went there for typical vaginal infections after that. I tried other hospitals, but the other healthcare providers were the same. 

Apart from the ‘young unmarried and childless nonsense’, they kept insinuating that I have no idea what I’m doing.  They outrightly said I’d be easier to handle if I was married and I’d brought my husband to the hospital for the doctors to discuss with. They kept implying that I didn’t know what I needed by recommending the same things I already said did not work for me. The entire encounter was exhausting. At some point, I asked if they had female gynaes so I’d have less chances of meeting less dismissive doctors. 

What Were Those Things They Asked You to Try?

Condoms, lube, diaphragms, hormonal contraception (specifically pills), “taking a deep breath”, and abstinence. It must be my inner Nigerian child working because I don’t know how I kept a straight face and calm composure when I heard ‘abstinence’ from the doctor. 

Wow. Do You Think Medical Help is Something the Average Nigerian Woman in Your Position Can Afford?

Honestly, I don’t think so. My bank account hates to see vagina problems coming. My major expenses are tests and drugs. In some months, I can get away with spending 30k, but in my budget, I’d say vaginal care takes up roughly 70k, depending on the severity. That is around the same amount as minimum wage. Sometimes I foot the bill, sometimes I frame it properly to ask for a bailout from my family, and sometimes I just suffer and hope it resolves itself. 

That is Actually A Lot

It’s not only financially costly, but it also takes a lot from you mentally. Healthcare providers can be dismissive; not many women know about these things.  Would they be able to make informed decisions instead of wasting their money on medical advice that won’t work for them, and would the average Nigerian woman stand up to judgemental professionals? I doubt it. 

Has Vaginismus Affected Your Intimate Relationships in Any Way?

Not really, to be honest. Sex is one of the ways my partner and I bond, but it’s not really important to me. I’m on the aromantic/asexual spectrum, and I’ve seen people’s experiences in relationships where sexual libido is unequal. It made me decide that if I do decide to get into a relationship, my partner having a significantly higher libido than I would be a serious deal breaker.

On the flip side, sex is enjoyable or at least tolerable 5 out of 10 times. My partner is supportive, tries his best to take it slow, be understanding and find things that can help. If not for him, I wouldn’t have found out that glycerin in lube was making my situation worse. It still doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could close up my legs forever sometimes. Occasionally, sex repulsion comes out of nowhere.

Has It Affected Your Self-Confidence or Sense of Femininity?

I’d say it has made me more self-confident.  I know what my body likes, and what it hates. I love the fact that I can make informed decisions. And I love that I can ignore or stand up to people that love to talk about things they know nothing about. But sometimes it is exhausting and I wish I didn’t have to do all that. 

What Advice Would You Give Someone Who Has Just Discovered That They Might Have Vaginismus?

I wish more women knew they could say no to stuff they don’t want. It’s their body after all. You don’t owe anybody sex. 

(*sighs)

Vaginismus is not from a lack of trying or ‘worrying too much’. Even if you can’t overcome it, it shouldn’t be something that reflects negatively on you. And it is not the end of the world. If you decide that you never want to be in a situation where you would feel that kind of pain again, that’s your right, and it isn’t selfish at all. Sex isn’t something that you should be dreading when you think about it. You’ll be just fine without it. 

Next Read: What She Said: I See My PCOS as a Gift, Not a Medical Condition to Be Managed

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According to the gospel by Afrobeats, the bigger a man’s genitalia, the better he is in bed.  Popular culture also teaches you that a woman’s sexual satisfaction is measured by how much noise she makes, and on social media, you find certain people reinforcing the belief that infertility is the punishment for abortion. These are some of the several loud and wrong myths that shape public conversations about sex and reproductive health among non-conservative Nigerians in the Western and Southern parts of Nigeria.

But aside from the popular belief that Tigernut milk boosts sexual performance, what else do you know about conversations surrounding sex among Northerners?

Across Northern Nigeria, talking about sex outside marriage is considered taboo, and on the Arewa side of X (FKA Twitter), sex isn’t a part of popular culture the same way it is among people from other parts of the country.

In this article, we speak to six Northern Women on the myths about sex they grew up hearing and how those myths contributed to their understanding of intimacy.

*Some names have been changed for anonymity

“When it comes to your vagina, there is nothing Kayamata cannot do” — Hassanat  (21, Jos)

Where I’m from, people often accuse women who have vaginal infections or urinary tract infections of sleeping with different men. This is why women who have these challenges usually do not speak up about them.  Many women give birth in their homes or their fellow women’s houses and don’t go for antenatal care, so they do not see the need to go to the hospital for such issues. Those who decide to seek medical attention go to chemists instead of qualified doctors for treatment, but a lot of them believe that all you need to treat anything below the waist is Kaya Mata. Women believe that it can be used as a contraceptive, to abort pregnancies, to treat vaginal infections, to prevent HIV/AIDs and, interestingly, to make a woman who has been deflowered a virgin again.

“Effeminate men cannot perform in bed” – Fareedah” (25, Kano)

I learnt most of what I knew about sex from the internet later in life. Where I grew up, periods were something to be done in secret. During Ramadan, when girls are off solat (on their period), they do not eat in public before iftar (evening prayers) so that no one would find out that they are menstruating. I also grew up believing that as long as a woman does not bleed after her first time, she is not a virgin. Even if she’s never had sex, she’ll still be seen as impure. A funny myth I grew up hearing from the women in my community was that men who had feminine traits were impotent and incapable of performing sexual activities. 

Back then, we were told that any kind of itching around the vagina is a toilet infection that can be cured with herbs. People who went to reproductive health specialists were seen as people who did not have shame, and here in the North, we take shame very seriously. 

“Unmarried women have no business with contraceptives” – Fatima  (24, Kaduna)

I’m not just a Northerner, but I’m also a Muslim like many other people in my city. Sex before marriage is haraam to us, so it is believed that as an unmarried woman, there is no reason you should need contraceptives. For married women, the case is different; many clinics here give out free contraceptives, so they can just walk in and get them.

I was diagnosed with PCOS a while back, and my doctor suggested I start birth control, but my mum was very hostile to the idea until my doctor explained why I needed it . She never would have believed me if my doctor hadn’t spoken to her.

“Prostitution is the reason behind unwanted pregnancies” – Falnyi (21, Adamawa)

The first thing I learned about sex was that I would go to hellfire if I decided to do it. My catholic secondary school taught us about STIs and sex as a mortal sin, but very little about sex itself.  Growing up, talking about sex was considered an abomination, and if you were caught talking about it or reading books with sexual content, you would be labelled a prostitute.  My community was so anti-sex that parents used to beat their daughters for hugging boys. Some people even believe that talking about STDs could spoil their children.

We grew up believing that any girl who got pregnant outside marriage was a sex worker, and till now, a lot of people around me still believe that to contract STIs, you have to be a prostitute. When people find out that a married woman has an STI, they accuse her of being a loose woman. They believe that it is something to feel shame for, even if she got it from her husband.

Also, people don’t distinguish between vaginal infections, UTIs and STIs. They call everything ‘infection’. Many women don’t even know what yeast is because they don’t do tests for vaginal infections or talk about it. 

On contraceptives, the world is evolving, and people are becoming more aware of its importance but the truth is that I don’t think a lot of Northerners use them. I have family members who think that using contraceptives is wrong because children are gifts from God, and a lot of my friends believe that they come with horrible side effects, like heavy bleeding. I’ve even heard someone say that contraceptives are things white people give to us so that they can kill us and reduce the population. 

“Women need cleansing after their periods” — Hannatu (26, Kaduna)

I grew up hearing that sex is something that would change you and that it had the potential to wreck your life. Now I know it’s not that big of a deal, but back then it didn’t seem that way. Even now, there is a lot of shame attached to sex. Many young girls believe that having sex with a man means he has some leverage over them. Because of that, revenge porn is very common here. Rumours of a woman having sex are still a big thing.

Women get very distressed when a person begins to spread rumours that they are having sex. They’ll post videos to debunk the allegations and sometimes even go as far as deactivating their social media accounts. For this same reason, even though the general public is a lot more open to the use of contraceptives, people still think that women using birth control is a bold move that would eventually make them loose.

It is widely believed that menstruation is the process of a woman’s body pushing out dirt and infections. Therefore, it is something that makes her unclean. After a woman’s period, she’s expected to cleanse herself.  Some women do it by using Miski on their underwear or burning a special kind of turare (incense) and sitting over the smoke. Miski is a perfumed white liquid that isn’t medically approved for use in the vagina. Additionally, using it for long periods increases the risk of yeast infections and recurrence. 

“Rinsing your vagina with Potash will prevent pregnancy” – Hassanat  (21, Jos)

The only time anyone ever spoke to me about sex as a teenager was when Always did a campaign at my school. Even at that, they said very little about sex and talked more about period hygiene. Ladies who talk about sex here are considered wayward. My friends and I grew up believing that your vaginal health was determined by what you ate. We used to think eating hot plantain while pregnant would burn your baby’s face, and that maltina would make your baby black. 

Like many other teenagers, we also grew up believing that if a man touches you, you’ll get pregnant. So after being touched by a man, some girls would use potash to rinse their vaginas. They did this believing that it would prevent pregnancy. As time went on, they graduated to using it during their periods and after sex.

Next Read: 4 Things We Love About Hassana Maina

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When you see that there’s a hot argument on the +234 side of X (FKA Twitter), four out of ten times, it is because someone’s wife or husband has come outside to say something shocking (cue MumZee and people’s wives waking up at 5 am to pound yam for their husbands). 

A few months ago, one woman tweeted that during sex, she just lies down like a log and lets her husband do what he wants to do. To Uzoamaka, it’s about time we stop normalising these questionable takes about marriage. She is tired of the existing narratives around sex in marriage and has decided to do something to #shiftthestory.

“Online, you see things about how sex is a husband’s right and how women should ‘take it’ even when they don’t want to.”

To her, the way people talk about how sex in marriage should happen is exhausting. That exhaustion is how the idea behind the main characters in ‘My Body, God’s Temple’ was born. Uzoamaka wants to create a new narrative that centers Nigerian women in loving relationships.

Writing the story was one thing, but bringing it to the screen had its own challenges. Uzoamaka found it difficult to find someone willing to use a vibrator on screen for the plot.

“I had a hard time casting for a previous episode because the character was a sexual being. We kept explaining that we were not doing porn but nobody wanted to do it. I didn’t want to compromise on certain scenes, and instead of going through that a second time, I decided to just do it myself.”

Her innovative solution brought a new kind of challenge: being in front of and behind the camera at the same time.

“Sometimes, I’ll finish shooting a take and start to leave, forgetting that I’m the director. The producer will then have to call me and ask, ‘Director, won’t you review the rush we just shot?’”

Next Read: What She Said: How I Survived a Marriage to a Covert Narcissist

Uzoamaka is not afraid to challenge herself. Despite all of that, it did not take long to get the hang of things, and over time, she got attached to the character she was playing.

“Omasilu prays about everything. That is so me. If she is having sexual issues, she’s going to talk to God about it. Of course, she’s practical; she talks to her partner, finds her way in the bedroom, and does her research, but the way she copes is by talking to God.”

Uzoamaka says she’s not religious and she doesn’t go to church, but she understands her relationship with God and she’s comfortable with it.”

The idea of a woman who can pray about sex is what she wants Nigerian women to embrace. Just like her, Omasilu’s character challenges stereotypes. 

“In the media, religious virgins are supposed to look a certain type of way. She’s not allowed to want sex or be excited about it. People look at virgins who end up discovering they have a high libido as frauds. The narrative is that these women are supposed to be content with a mediocre sex life.”

Omasilu is a way for her to show the audience that there are a million ways to be a woman. The fact that a woman is spiritual does not mean she is not a sexual being, allowed to want more.

In her words: ‘I want women to know that they can be sexual and spiritual too.’

This is also why she chose a male lead so different from the stereotypical Nigerian man; he’s almost unreal. Zion is soft, patient, intentional, and he does not have a fragile ego.

“I wanted to show a man who makes you think about what men should be like. When I see people say things like ‘He’s your husband, he paid your bride price, when he wants it, he wants it. It just tells me that people have normalised entitled men who don’t have self-restraint or respect for a woman’s body. These things irk me.”

She says her work pays off in small moments when she sees people being affected in the ways she wants them to be.

“When we were watching the director’s cut in the studio, someone looked at Zion’s character and called him a simp.  I like that the guy in the studio noticed. What that scene did to him was enough to make him vocally express what he thought. I want more men to see that and hopefully try it at home.”

To her, making art can be like manifesting; if we make enough art about what we want, we can create a new narrative. She believes whatever you can think of can exist. 

“The scene where Zion tells Omasilu, ‘what can I do if you’re not ready’ is very deliberate because a lot of people think there is something that has to be done when someone is not ready: try harder, convince them, just lie there and let me do the work. It’s important to hear something like that from a good-looking, educated, well-to-do man who respected himself and respected his partner.”

With ‘My Body, God’s Temple’, she’s hoping to help Nigerian women understand that they can be spiritual, sexual, and anything else they want on their own terms.

“How do you say consent is hot in academia? That’s what I’m trying to do here. And that’s why holding a vibrator on set in front of so many people felt more ‘business as usual’ than embarrassing. These days people judge women for not having sex. I’m trying to show women that they decide how their body should be interacted with, even by their husbands and their partners, every single time.”

‘My Body, God’s Temple’ is one out of three films premiering in our Life Series Production, coming out this July, inspired by some of our favourite stories from our Naira Life, Love Life, and Sex Life verticals and Uzoamaka simply cannot wait to see what you will make of it.

Watch the full film here.

Also Read: Everything We Love About the Women of HER: The Docu-series

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