With all the rain that has been falling recently, I’m genuinely shocked people are still considering long distance relationships. Tunde, in this cold? Is your body not doing you like the rest of us?
For those of you stubborn men who want to date across state lines, here are a few tips from a former long distance relationship expert on how to make it work.
Have money
Sir, this one is very very important. You need money to surprise bae once in a while with either your presence or lunch from their favourite restaurant. You also need money for airtime and internet because your phone is about to become your second partner. Do you think all of this will work if you’re wallowing in poverty? Go back to the drawing board.
Invest in firewood
“Body no be firewood”, so maybe it’s time for you to buy a lot of actual firewood to keep yourself warm in the absence of your lover.
Attend every night virgil and revival in your area
Prayer is the key to everything — including a healthy long distance relationship. To protect what you love, my brother, you need to be prayerful. That speaking in tongues? Master it. That anointing oil? Buy it in bulk. Fight for your relationship in the spirit realm to make sure it lasts in the physical. Amen?
Read the news every day to prepare yourself for disappointment
To survive a long distance relationship, you need to understand that your relationship can end at any time. You need to catch up on Nigerian news daily, to practice how to handle the disappointment that is surely coming your way.
Small cheating here and there is not that bad
We are not saying cheat all the way, but a little bit of hanky panky on the low to sustain morale is not bad. By the way, who knows what your partner is doing where they’re staying? Just make sure you know how to cover your tracks.
You need to learn how to lie like a Nigerian politician
It’s just a coincidence that this point comes right after cheating. It’s not planned. But, yes, you need to adorn yourself with the cloak of lies to make sure your relationship lasts. The truth may set you free, but it can also pour sand in your relationship garri. But if Nigerian politicians can get away with barefaced lying every day, why do you feel someone will catch you?
Out of sight, out of mind. So if you want to constantly be in their sight and mind, you have to be the main character in their dreams. Simple maths.
Be prepared to ask, “What are you wearing?” 1,000 times in a month
Nine times out of ten, “What are you wearing?” is the question that will save your sex life in a long distance relationship. Don’t say I didn’t do anything for you.
Pluck out your eyes to avoid temptation
How will anyone seduce you when you can’t even see them? Your partner will understand that you did it for them, and love you regardless.
Be prepared to answer, “Where are you?” 1,000 times in a week
At some point in your relationship, “Where are you?” will replace “How are you?” and you need to make peace with that. This question is even worse when you’re with someone who doesn’t trust you. If you want your relationship to work, you need to become Google Maps that can tell exact locations in seconds. Good luck!
Buy sim cards from every network
If there’s one thing Nigerian network providers will do, it’s disgrace you. You need to have a lot of backup SIM cards in case your network is not glowing with pride or following you everywhere you go.
Know that heartbreak can come at any time (and prepare for it)
Some people can spot the red flags as soon as they start to pop up — reduced banter, avoiding calls, airing, etc, but for those that need relationship glasses, just prepare yourself for heartbreak in advance so you won’t be shocked when they say, “We need to talk.”
Avoid long distance relationships and know peace
Omo, a long distance relationship in the same city is dangerous, but you want to date someone in another city or state? You clearly like pain because it’ll end in hot tears.
What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
If there’s one thing you need to know about Toheeb Azeez, it’s that this man is committed to anything he sets his mind to. From keeping to our interview time despite shuttling between states, to changing his family’s narrative in the face of tragedy, the brand marketing exec has learnt to make things work no matter what life throws at him.
In this episode of Man Like, Toheeb talks about navigating grief after the death of his parents, stepping up as the man of the house despite financial struggles and how loss has influenced his outlook on life.
What was growing up like?
Where I grew up and where I am in life today are worlds apart from each other. I grew up in Okokomaiko, a place most people call the trenches. My dad was an electrician, my mum was a trader, so my family didn’t have much. But even though our situation wasn’t ideal, my mum made sure my siblings and I didn’t let it define us or weren’t swept away by what was happening around us. She trained us to know our lives could be better, which made us selective of the type of people we rolled with. I remember people used to say, “Don’t play with these ones because their mother will come for you o.”
LOL
Despite our financial situation, my parents made sure we went to a private secondary school, which was rare for people from my area at the time. The school was expensive, and we had to supplement it with a schedule where I had to hawk on the street right after school. I did this every day, including weekends.
Omo. How did you manage?
I started hawking in primary school, and I think that was one of the most challenging time for me. I used to run into my classmates sitting in the back of their parents’ cars while I hawked on the street. While some were compassionate about the whole situation, others would come into school the next day and laugh at me. I remember a girl who refused to pair up with me in a class simply because I was from a poor family. She would always make fun of me. It was hard.
But every time I came home to complain to my mum, she’d remind me there was no reason to be ashamed of what I was doing as long as I wasn’t stealing. After all, regardless of their parent’s financial status, I was in the same class as them. That’s all that mattered.
My mum was special like that, so it felt like my world ended when I lost her at 16.
I’m so sorry
Thank you. That wasn’t my first encounter with loss, though. When I was about 11, my mum had a baby girl, and I was very excited. My siblings and I at the time made up four boys in the family, so the idea of a little sister made me so happy I remember rolling on the floor when she was born. Unfortunately, she passed away after a year and some months. My mum had another baby girl not long after, but she also passed after nine months.
I already knew what grief meant at that tender age. By the time I turned 15, I lost my dad. A year and a week after, I lost my mum too. I was in my final year of secondary school when this happened. It was especially hard for me because we had a shared dream and plan for my future. We planned so far ahead, we hoped when I’d be 50 years old, I’d have a 25-year-old child. All these plans, and then boom, I was left alone to fend for myself and my brothers.
Damn. Do you recall what you were thinking when all of this happened?
It felt like rapture had happened. I didn’t see the point in anything anymore. My parents were dead, and I was like, “At this point, the world needs to end”. It truly felt like complete darkness. It was also around this time that I attempted suicide on Carter Bridge. I was walking slowly by the railings, just convincing myself to jump. I didn’t do it because I’d promised my mum I’d look after my brothers, and I knew I had to honour that promise.
I lost more people after my parents, like my aunt and my grandma. Now, I’m numb to death. When I hear someone close to me is dead, I feel the pain in a way, but I’m so used to it that I’m like, “Let’s get on with the funeral and move on.”
Did you ever come out of the grief that made you suicidal?
You never get over a loss like that. No matter how much I’ve tried, it still feels like it happened last year. I’ve been able to manage it over time by adopting my mum’s approach to life. As much as we made all these grand plans, she always thought about the negative and the positive — think about what you want and mentally prepare yourself if it doesn’t happen.
Her philosophy helped me understand that losing my parents was out of my control, but you know what’s still in my control? How I move on with my life. I couldn’t dwell on my situation because it’s not an excuse. I had a responsibility to myself and my brothers.
So what did you do?
I moved to live with my grandma after my parents passed, while my brothers lived with other family members. While there, I started baking and selling donuts and meat pies from her shop. Thankfully, my mum had raised me to be in the kitchen regardless of gender, so all that work wasn’t new to me. I moved from small pastries to cakes, and when mobile phones became a thing in Nigeria, I became a procurer, helping people get phones at affordable prices. I spent a large portion of my time in Computer Village. I knew almost everyone there.
I was doing all these things to care for myself and my brothers.
You became a dad to your siblings. What was that like?
Before my parents passed, my brothers and I were always fighting. I felt like my parents were strict with me and not with them. It was so bad that on her deathbed, my mum cried and begged that even though I didn’t like my brothers, I needed to take care of them. I didn’t know she thought it was that serious. I never hated them; we were just kids.
I did my best to send them to school, and with me, we became the first batch of graduates from my father’s family. We’re close, but I still have to play the role of a parent and older brother to guide them on the right path.
You mentioned graduating. How did you get into school?
First off, I wrote jamb five times. LOL. The first time, the result was withheld. The second time, they cancelled the result. The third time, the centre got cancelled. And the fourth time, the result was withheld again. It was after my fifth attempt that I finally got admission.
At this time, my grandma had passed away, and I was now living with my uncle. Even though he wasn’t exactly invested in my education at first, after I passed my GCE, he decided to support me. That’s how I ended up in a private university. I’d spent five years at home, so most of my coursemates were younger, but I didn’t care. I knew what I was there for, and I had a good time.
I remember saving my pocket money from my uncle to send my younger brothers to school. Then I started working with a bank and used most of my salary to continue this. I was able to send my brothers to school in Ghana. And because I had a first-class, my uncle agreed to sponsor my master’s years later, so I went abroad to get that done.
What happened next?
I studied Petroleum Economics and Finance in Scotland because I wanted to work in the oil industry. Long story short, there was an oil crash at that time, and I found it very hard to get a job with an oil company. But this beverage company got my CV in London and wanted to meet me. I initially refused because I’d still set my mind on working with an oil company. But after talking to my friends, I just took the job in the meantime.
I ended up spending three years with this company before moving to my current one. I also currently lead the Nigerian brand marketing team for this beverage company.
Talk about a major level-up moment! How have all of these experiences influenced your outlook on life?
My experiences have made me a critical thinker. I even feel like I overthink everything because I can look at something and picture variations of the scenario. This has helped forge my philosophy; if I’ve thought something through and understood that its success or failure lies on my back, I can go for it.
I’m also an independent thinker who likes to make my own decisions. I tend to seek second-party opinions on things, but ultimately, I know I’m responsible for myself and my decisions. I analyse my situation and do what’s best for me, not just what people expect or want.
Interesting. So what are you looking forward to these days?
The things I’m looking forward to scare me. I know my opportunities are limitless, so I’m looking forward to surprising myself with the choices I make moving forward.
Can you give me the ingredients to live a happy life?
First, learn to let things go, especially when they’re outside your control. The second rule will be “Do you”. And finally, celebrate every step, no matter how small it looks. It’s not until big things happen that you find happiness. Each step in the right direction will motivate you to keep going. So celebrate them.
I’ve taken notes. Thank you for the pointer, Toheeb
You’re welcome!
My Bro is a biweekly Zikoko series that interrogates and celebrates male friendships of different forms.
People often say, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder”, but listening to Brian (in Enugu) go back and forth on a virtual call with EL (in Abuja), I’m convinced distance had little to do with the strong bond these men share. A casual encounter over ten years ago created a relationship built on the foundation of honesty, humour and love that runs real deep. Brian and EL aren’t just friends, they’re practically brothers or, as EL likes to say, “Twins”.
In this episode of My Bro, they talk about being each other’s soulmate, the depressive episode that threatened their friendship and the day they almost died.
Let’s take a trip down memory lane
Brian: We met twice before we became friends. My first recollection of meeting you was when my high school friend brought you to me and asked that we form a crew of guys to protect each other. I was standing there thinking, “Is this nigga asking us to form a gang?” You just stood behind him with your muscles and everything.
We never formed this crew, and I didn’t see you again for a while. I know we met a second time. I just can’t remember where.
EL: Yeah, it was at some random party. I looked at you and was expecting an accent or some bougie talk. Instead, you started blowing pidgin, and I was shocked. You also had so many funny stories I’m sure I developed abs laughing that night. I was like, “This guy is as crazy as I am, probably even worse.” I finally felt like I’d met someone who understood and would indulge my craziness at any level.
Brian: I remember now! We couldn’t stop laughing that night. We also bonded over making music and decided to hit the studio to record a song together. Even though we’ve wiped that song off the internet, it was a dope jam. We will share new music when we’re ready. By the way, that was the day we almost died.
EL: Oh shit! Fun times. LOL.
Fast and Furious: Abuja Version
Brian: I remember we were recording in the studio when I gave my other friend, Nnanna, the keys to my car to get us shawarmas because mandem was hungry. By the time he got back, we’d finished recording, so I told him to drive so I could concentrate on texting my babe at the time. This guy started driving like James Bond for no reason.
EL: Omo, I can’t forget because as soon as he pulled out of where we were parked, I knew shit was about to get real. Do you know me and the producer in the back seat wore our seatbelts? Who wears a seatbelt in the backseat, bro?
Brian: LOL. We dropped the producer off, and that’s when the accident happened. I was focused on the bikini pictures my babe was sending me, so I didn’t even know what happened. I just looked up, and the car was spinning. EL, what happened, abeg?
EL: Guy, where I fucked up was taking off my seatbelt to collect the aux chord. I wanted to play our song, as per, we don make hit. We were around Silverbird, it was raining, and I could swear this guy was taking a bend at 120km/hr. As soon as he started, I just shouted “Fuck” because I knew we were screwed. I remember you were screaming, “Nnanna”, and the Nnanna guy was shouting, “Jesus”.
We kept spinning until we hit a tree, and I hit my head, compressing my spine. I came out of the car, but I couldn’t breathe. You came to me yarning shit like, “Look at me, bro. Don’t go into the light.” And I was lying on the floor thinking, “What the fuck? Can this guy shift so I can breathe?”
Brian: LOL. That day was wild.
EL: My back still hurts today.
Brian: I remember telling you if the devil heard one track and tried to kill us, we needed to drop a full album to pepper him some more. But till now, no album.
EL: Life keeps getting in the way, but there’s still time. We must make that album. I’ve promised myself we’ll make one before my 35th birthday sha.
Brian: Did you know I paid ₦80k to replace the streetlight we hit that day, and 11 years later, they still haven’t replaced it?
EL: Have you forgotten we live in Nigeria? LOL.
I remember the time you came through for me
EL: One thing that really stood out to me when we started hanging out was how supportive you were of all the things I was doing at the time. You made it a habit of showing up at every event I was hosting and it wasn’t just showing up, you were there asking for ways you could make my job easier.
I’ve always been the guy to run things on my own, so having someone showing concern and offering to help all the time was really new to me. You probably don’t know this, but the way you always hype me up and down got me one of my first major gigs.
Brian: Wait, really?
EL: Yeah. So I’d pulled up for an interview with this company, and after giving them the big talk about how I was the man for the job, the owner went into another office with some other guy to talk about me. The next thing I know, he comes out and asks me how much I want for the job. Bro, I had zero qualifications, but I just told him ₦400k, and he said, “Ok. How soon can you start?” I was confused because I felt I’d bullshitted my way into a major company.
Months into the job, I was talking to the man, and he asked about my “light-skinned friend”. That’s when I started asking questions. Apparently, he’d overheard you talking to your friend who worked there about me and how there was nothing I couldn’t do. It was a random gist, but when I coincidentally showed up looking for a job, he confirmed with your friend if I was the same EL and just offered me the job based on everything you’d said.
Brian: Oh wow. I remember we celebrated this job when you got it, but I had no idea about this backstory.
EL: Bro, I didn’t know it at first either. When I found out, I was shocked because, what are the odds? I needed a job and I got it because you wouldn’t shut up about me. Imagine that?
Brian: That’s dope, man. Wow. You’ve come through for me so many times too. But I think the one that stands out to me was when I was going through some mental shit, and you dropped everything to come and live with me. I knew I needed help at the time, but with how I’m wired, I wasn’t open to receiving it, so I kept taking you for granted.
You saw me at my lowest point, and even though other people would’ve yelled or fought with me, you were patient and calm. When you eventually couldn’t handle it anymore, you just quietly left, but not without reminding me you’d still be there whenever I needed you. I knew I’d fucked up, but how you handled everything made me respect you more.
EL: I’m not going to lie, I was angry at the time. But more than anger, what I felt was fear. How you were closing yourself off from everyone around you reminded me of my brothers and how our relationship got fucked up. They had done the same thing years ago. At that moment, it felt like I was losing another brother, and it scared me shitless.
All I wanted to do was help, but you weren’t opening up. It was tough for me. I have a terrible temper, but I still had to compose myself in the face of all the tantrums you were throwing.
Brian: I’m surprised you didn’t fuck me up. LOL.
EL: Honestly… the only thing that held me back was the love I have for you. You’re my chosen family, my blood. I decided to walk away and give you space instead. But even as I was leaving, I felt a sense of guilt. I thought I should’ve done more and stayed with you, but at the same time, my head was getting messed up.
Despite everything, I still wanted you to know I loved you, and I’d always be there when you needed me.
How we resolve our differences
Brian: What I cherish the most about you is how you can correct me without making it feel like an attack. It’s always, “This is how you messed up”, and not, “You’re a failure”, or anything like that. The best part is, whether I want to hear the truth or not, you’re always there to tell it to me, but with love.
Even after you left my house, all it took was one phone call to talk it out and move on.
EL: I know you get a lot of criticism from other people in your life, so I make sure that’s not what I’m giving you. Instead, I try to help you understand where they’re coming from. If your parents are upset with you, I try to get you to see things from their perspective. Even if it doesn’t make sense to you, it makes sense to them, and we can’t invalidate their feelings.
Brian: Yeah, we’ve had moments when we had to sit each other down and tell the other person the truth. I appreciate that our friendship is based on us being honest with one another.
EL: It’s our foundation. No matter how bad the situation is, once it’s me and you, we go run am. That’s our mantra. We don’t know where we’ll start, but we go run am.
Navigating a long-distance friendship
EL: Let me start by saying you’re a selfish fool for leaving me in Abuja and moving to Enugu.
Brian: But when we became friends, I was still going back and forth from Nigeria to England. I don’t think the distance has affected our relationship in any way. We don’t see each other much, but we always talk.
EL: To be fair, I’m already used to you disappearing because, even when you were here, once you had a babe like this, I didn’t see you. Any small thing, “I’m with my madam.” Now that you’ve gone, I have my own madam so everyone will be fine las las. LOL.
What holds this friendship together
Brian: We always root for one another. I genuinely want to see you win, so even when I’m supposed to feel left out, I don’t because your win is very much my win.
EL: Same. It’s the love we have for each other, bro. No matter how angry we are at each other, we consistently lead with love and kindness. We’ve never had an actual outburst because of this. And that’s shocking for someone like me whose first instinct is always to start roaring up and down.
I want you to know
EL: I’ll go first because I’m not your mate.
I want you to know I see you. I love you, and you’ll forever have my respect. I know you know this, but I want to remind you that whatever bullshit we’ve had in the past was all very important in creating the men we are today. You can look back and cringe, but never regret the past because we had beautiful moments together.
I look forward to you being at you one billion percent because I can’t wait for people to see you the way I see you. You’re my blood, my twin, my guy and my soulmate. I love you, bro.
Brian: You want me to cry? But, yeah, you already know how much I love you, so I’ll just say something you don’t get enough of, which is how proud I am of you and all you’ve accomplished.
Most people don’t know what you’ve been through. I’ve seen you go through shit that would break me. Even when it’s not, you tell yourself it’s alright, and then, you go out there and make it alright. I’m so proud of you and want you to know everything will pay off in the end.
I love you, EL.
Do you have an interesting bro story you’d like to share? Fill this form and we’ll get back to you.
And with media hot takes constantly demanding that we strive to be more manly, I’ve come up with some things you need to do to prove that you are a modern manly man.
Let’s get it, gents!
Volunteer to go to war
I miss the days when men exerted their energy positively by marking territories and fighting wars. Now, so much time is spent arguing on Twitter or working out at the gym with fancy equipment. So you can deadlift 200KG weights? Nice one, dear. How about you refocus your energy and join the troops in Sambisa forest to prove you’re a real man?
Build houses from scratch
Technology has made men lazy. Our ancestors built their houses from scratch while battling typhoid, malaria and spiritual attacks from the people they were dragging land with. But in 2022, men are out here hiring architects and construction workers. What are men turning to?
Wear thongs often
Honestly, I don’t know why this is here, but thongs are sexy, so I’ll stand by it. After all, you must be strong to have a permanent wedgie all day.
Stop being an employee
How will you be the head if you’re currently working for someone else? Men are natural-born leaders, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend your time following someone else in the name of employment. Resign from your job today and start your own company. The last time I checked, Timi Ajiboye and Tomiwa Aladekomo don’t have two heads.
Delete all your social media apps
Why are you, a bearer of ball sacks uploading videos on nstagram Reels, arguing about gender wars or dancing to “baby make I fire you with my machine gun” on TikTok? Reason it with me, sir. This isn’t the life you were destined to live as a man. You don’t need to socialise when you’re working on your empire.
The bible says, “As a man If you don’t hunt, you shouldn’t eat.” Now that I think about it, I may have made up that quote. Either way, it’s something the Old Testament could’ve said. We need to go back to the days when men carried their spears and went into the bush to hunt squirrels. It’s not every day, “Nice nice,” from Chicken Republic.
Avoid dreaming at night. Or don’t sleep at all
Sleep is for the weak. Are you a weak man?
Also, what are you dreaming of? The problem started when you, a man, decided it was wise to sleep. Your mates are out here reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad and 48 Laws of Power while you’re spending your time in bed. After all, if you don’t sleep, you won’t dream, and dreaming is very unmanly.
Stop splitting the bill on dates
A real man should show that he’s a provider from the start. When you go on a date, pay for everything. In fact, you need to offer to pay your date’s rent, so they know you’re serious. Please and please, stop running away from your responsibilities as a man.
Walk around naked
How else will you mark your territory in life if your dick is hidden so far away in your boxers? Show us what you’re blessed with. Make sure your balls get some fresh air so they don’t start having moulds. That’s a bit unsanitary if you ask me.
Stop breathing
No, but seriously, why are you even breathing? It’s a very unmanly thing to do.
My Bro is a biweekly Zikoko series that interrogates and celebrates male friendships of different forms.
If there’s one striking thing about Chinazom and Tunmise’s friendship, it’s how much they can say to each other even when they’re saying nothing at all. While this is a great thing for their friendship, it sucks for me as a writer. But it’s hard to be mad at this seven-year-old friendship that’s helped the two men be more open with themselves and the people around them.
In this episode of My Bro, they talk about bonding in their early Unilag days, late-night calls that involve tears and navigating a friendship in which no topic is out of bounds.
Our origin story
Tunmise: My earliest recollection of you is when we met at a tutorial class while doing a Diploma course at the University of Lagos. I struggled with the class and asked you some questions. I remember thinking, “Mehn, this guy is brilliant.”
Chinazom: Not going to lie, I’m smart. LOL. I can’t explain it, but from the first time we spoke, I knew we would be friends. Sometimes, I meet people and can just sense their good vibes. This intuition has never led me astray, so I trusted it with you. It didn’t even take up to an hour to know I wanted to be your friend.
Tunmise: Look at that! But do you think ending up on different campuses when we got admission changed our relationship?
Chinazom: I don’t think so. I mean, you were studying microbiology, and I was studying medicine, which put us on two different campuses, but we still maintained our bond. I no longer saw you every day, and that was hard. But whenever I picked up my phone to text or call you, it felt like nothing had changed between us.
Tunmise: I agree. I don’t think there was any change. We were still tight and shit.
Chinazom: I’d call and we’d catch up. Even when we didn’t have the answers to each other’s problems, we still found a way to make it work. You’d listen when I had issues, and I did the same.
What makes our friendship work?
Tunmise: One of my favourite things about you is your non-judgemental attitude. I know I can come to you with anything and you won’t make me feel bad about my choices. I tend to have a lot of women issues; my relationships with them can get crazy sometimes. But I roll up on you with the gist and you talk me through the drama. I know Nazom will be around to tell me, “Do it this way” or “Maybe you shouldn’t have said this thing.”
We come from different backgrounds, which means we see life in different ways. It’s normal, but I’m happy I have you in my corner because you’re always willing to see things from my perspective when necessary. This type of understanding is why our friendship has lasted this long.
Chinazom: Thanks, man. I think you’re easy to talk to. I’m not even sure you know it. It doesn’t matter if it’s just internet bants or something serious and personal to us. One thing I know is we’ll always find a middle ground. I also like that we don’t have boundaries on what we can discuss. We’ve spoken about everything from sex to how we’re dealing with mental health stress. Nothing is off-limits! It might be hard to start the conversation sometimes, but I know one way or the other, I’ll run it by you.
Tunmise: Yes! You make me feel so comfortable, I can tell you even my most embarrassing secrets without fear. I literally start some of my messages with, “Nazom, can you imagine? The most embarrassing thing happened to me today.” And you’ll respond with something like, “What did you do again?” LOL.
The moment I knew we were real friends
Chinazom: Now, let me tell you about the one moment I’ll never forget regarding our friendship. Remember late last year when I was going through that tough phase?
Tunmise: Oh, yeah.
Chinazom: I was mentally stressed and called you in the middle of the night to talk about it. It was the first time in my life I considered therapy. And with school, it was just a lot. The following day, you showed up at my building, and omo, I was surprised. Even though you had a lot of errands to run, you made time for me. We took a long drive to talk about how I was feeling, watched a movie and got something to eat after. Whenever I think about our friendship, I remember that day. I didn’t know how much I needed you until you showed up. It’s a perfect description of our friendship.
Tunmise: I’d known you for a long time, and you’d never broken down the way you did that night. It was a rare moment. I knew I had to be there to ensure you were okay. That was all I could think about.
For me, it goes back to our diploma days. We were reading at Unilag A.k.T Library one night, and I was so disconnected from everything, I couldn’t understand what we were reading. It was scary because we had an exam the next day and nothing was clicking in my brain.
I spoke to you about it, and you did this cool thing where you read for the both of us. You’d read from my book, process it then break it down for me in a way I could understand. It really helped me in the exam, I can’t even lie. I still appreciate you for that night, man. Thank you.
Fight? We can’t relate
Tunmise: I don’t think we’ve ever had a fight or argument.
Chinazom: Hmmmmm.
Tunmise: We’ve fought before?
Chinazam: I can’t remember the full gist, but I know you told me about a plan you had, and I wasn’t in the best of moods, so I was rude in my response. I checked myself and apologised sha. It wasn’t that big of a deal. You really don’t remember?
Tunmise: Nothing is coming to me.
Chinazam: Okay, that settles it. We’ve never fought before. LOL.
You came through for me
Tunmise: I’ve never said this before, but you helped my business, bro. When I started out selling sneakers, and I was just marketing it in person, you were the one who pushed me to set up a Twitter account and, after that, Instagram. I wasn’t sure about putting myself or business out there, but you helped me draw up a plan and all that good stuff. You probably don’t know this, but it changed my business.
Chinazom: Nice. So I like this unspoken rule that whenever one person calls the other and says they need to talk, we’re always ready to drop everything and listen, no matter what. You do that for me, and I appreciate it. When my brother was in the hospital last year, and I called you crying, you stayed on the other end and listened. It happened again in January (2022), when my classmate died and I called you. Having a space to be vulnerable means a lot to me because most male friendships don’t have that.
Tunmise: I get that. I struggled with vulnerability too because I didn’t want to appear weak. There’s something about men crying or talking about their emotions that felt wrong to me growing up. But now, I know it’s necessary, and I can be open with you. It all comes down to not feeling judged whenever I’m around you.
What I would change about you
Chinazom: Tumi, I feel you second-guess yourself a lot, and it’s unnecessary. You’re literally the kind of person who kills anything they set their mind to do, so I’m always shocked when you doubt yourself. Most of your calls to ask if your plan makes sense feel like you’re seeking validation or permission to do something. You don’t need it. I put a star beside your name on my phone because I think you’re a superstar. Does this doubt have anything to do with a fear of failure?
Tunmise: Yeah, I think so. But right now, I think I’m in a different mental space where I’m willing to take more risks.
By the way, the only thing I’d want you to change is the way you’re always fighting on Twitter. Bros, be calming down.
This friendship has helped me open up
Tunmise: You’re one of the most selfless people I know, and it’s not just with me. Almost everyone says it.
Chinazom: Thanks, man! I feel like this friendship happens to be the first one in which I’ve fully explored what it means to be open and honest with someone. I’ve learnt I should be able to talk to my friend about anything and everything. People always put romantic relationships above friendships, but getting to know you, I understand friendship comes first. I’m taking that energy into my other friendships.
Do you have an interesting bro story you’d like to share? Fill this form and we’ll get back to you.
Jare Fola-Bolumole is genuinely content with being a family man. As the CEO of ChocBoy Brand, a Nigeria-based chocolate manufacturing company, he’s making a name for himself as an innovator and leader. But when he’s not talking about using chocolate as a tool for global domination, he enjoys talking about his life as a family man. His voice lights up at the mention of his two daughters and the wife that inspired his unconventional entrepreneurial journey.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about how love pushed him into becoming a hustler in university, the changes he’s experienced since he became a dad and why he’s scared to truly open up to the people around him.
Tell me about the first time it struck you that you were now “a man”?
In my second year of university, I decided to stop collecting pocket money from my parents. I had just started dating my wife and figured I needed to make my own money. I mean, how can I take money from my dad and spend it on my babe when he’s not the one dating her?
Ah. So how did you make money?
Making that decision to fend for myself was a defining moment for me and the origin of my entrepreneurial journey. I started a private tutorial business, and a couple of years later, I invested in plastic chairs and put them out for rent in collaboration with a friend of mine.
Starting a business was new to me, but I did what I could and learnt on the job.
An entrepreneur for love. God when? But I’m curious about your wife’s reaction at the time.
I was a student with a business on the side making money. Of course she liked it. Plus, it got to a point where I ended up employing her as a private tutor too. Everyone needed extra cash so she took it.
Didn’t all this work interfere with school?
Mehn, it was hard. In my fifth year, classes started clashing with my tutorials and I had to make tough choices to follow the money. In all of this, I couldn’t leave school because I had come so far, but I also couldn’t leave my business because we had grown. I was juggling a lot, but I still managed to see everything through.
What did your parents think about you running all these businesses in school?
Their first reaction was, “You’re on your own.” LOL. But even after saying this, they still supported me. My mum donated her BlackBerry so I could market my products. When I started importing chocolate in my fourth year, my dad looked for people travelling overseas to help me bring the chocolate back to Nigeria.
Aww. So what’s your relationship with your parents like?
My parents are the best! My dad is as entrepreneurial as I am, so I enjoyed a mentor-mentee kind of relationship with him. He is a brilliant entrepreneur with a life and struggle I could relate to and this made the mentorship process a lot more impactful for me.
My mum on the other hand is a prayer warrior who has always supported me with prayers. She’s very invested in my education and wishes I was practising what I studied. Even though I’m married now with kids, she’s still trying to convince me to go for my masters. I can bet she’d go to church for thanksgiving If I told her I was leaving this entrepreneur life to use my degree.
LOL. You mentioned that you’re a father now. How has fatherhood been treating you?
It’s blissful. I have two daughters — one is four years-old, the other four months old.
Fun fact: I always wanted a boy. But now that I have girls, I’m so happy because they are very cute. Growing up as a boy, I destroyed all my father’s gadgets. Thinking of having to reproduce myself as a little boy scares me. But with girls, I have peace of mind; their wahala doesn’t come close to that of boys.
Did anything prepare you for fatherhood?
I don’t think anybody fully prepares for parenting. Being a dad is sweet, but sometimes you’ll feel the urge to get rid of the kids, just dump them somewhere if you have the opportunity. People always say that fatherhood doesn’t really dawn on you until you hear your baby call you daddy for the first time. They were right, because that’s when you truly realise that this is a human being you’re responsible for.
What has been the most challenging part of fatherhood for you?
My four month-old daughter always wakes up in the middle of the night and insists that you carry her standing upright. Newborns are good at manipulating and strong-arming you into doing what they want. I’ve noticed my daughter smiles after crying and forcing you to stand up. It’s all a trap. LOL. Then there’s the staying awake to make sure they’re sleeping fine. That one is still standard procedure.
But how has being a father changed you as a person?
A lot has changed. Fatherhood has taught me that I can’t be selfish. I can’t make decisions without considering my family. It trickles down to the little things like buying shawarma. There’s a part of me that just wants to take it home so we can all share. My life is for them and this is something I never experienced when I didn’t have children.
I’m jotting things down. What lessons would you like your kids to learn from you?
Because I have daughters, my goal is to be the model of an ideal man. My girls should be able to look at me and the way I treat my wife and say, “This is the kind of man I want to marry.” I treat them like queens because I don’t want them to ever expect less from their friendships or relationships.
Does anything scare you more now that you’re a dad?
The way I look at it now, my children are currently under my protection. They’re still young, so I can guide them and make sure they’re okay. But what happens when I can’t do this anymore? As much as I want them to develop independence, as a parent, I’m still scared of what could happen if they ended up with the wrong crowd. I’d like to protect them forever, but I know it’s not realistic.
Mehn, it’s not easy being a dad o!
LMAO. It’s not.
Looking at the way you were brought up, what would you like to change when it comes to parenting your kids?
I grew up around a lot of criticism of other people and their choices. This wasn’t something from my parents, rather, it was a church thing. I remember my church literally used to criticise other churches during service. I think it’s wrong. While I’ll inculcate into my children as many values as they’ll need to navigate the world, I also want them to be able to make their own choices independent of me or my beliefs. I want them to be independent and think critically. I’m not all-knowing, so they’ll need to trust their instincts.
You’ve spoken a lot about running businesses and being a family man which makes you a rock for so many people. Knowing this, I’m curious to know who you lean on when things are hard?
Me. I tend to rely on myself and do whatever I can to fix my issues myself. Oftentimes, my wife notices and starts probing so I open up to her. But to be honest, I’m not great at opening up or going to other people for help or advice.
That must be tough. Why, though?
Information is power. The more information someone has about you, the more power they wield over you. I am very careful about sharing personal information. The less you know about me, the less you can hurt me. If I let you know things about me, I’m enabling you.
Damn. But has someone ever used something you told them in confidence as a weapon to attack you?
Funny enough, no. The only instance I can remember is childish and happened way back in secondary school. I told my friend I liked a girl, and then this guy went after her himself. It’s funny when I think of it. But other than this, nothing else.
It’s the drama for me. Nigeria is hard, so what gives you joy these days?
My family. My family is my source of joy. Having a four year-old run up to me with a very big smile, saying, “Daddy!” It just rewards all the hard work I do. Having to pick up my wife from work and see her smiling at me, even though it’s not all the time, also gives me joy. Everything else is a disappointment, from one level to another.
So now that you have given me baby fever, what advice would you give me?
Who gave you baby fever? Please, think about the cost of diapers, the cost of living and the cost of everything o! Me I’m already inside all of it, but you, omo, goodluck.
Wow. Thank you sha.
If there’s one thing about Nigerian men, it’s that we’re loyal. Most times, you’ll find male friendship circles that have remained the same for years, going back to primary or secondary school. While men are open to new friends, we rarely let go of the ones we’ve had before.
But what happens when a friendship is no longer working for you, bro? Do you just walk away? Well, taking a page from personal experiences, here are some things to note when dealing with an almost dead bromance.
1. How does your friendship make you feel?
Before you rush and cut someone off (I didn’t send you o), you need to take out time to properly think about why you’re doing this. The first step is to figure out how your bro makes you feel. If the thought of your bro or just hanging out with them fills you with dread, then omo, it’s to check and balance that friendship. Friendship, like other relationships, requires a little bit of work, but that doesn’t mean your friendship should feel like Further Mathematics.
2. Are you holding on to the past?
Like my editor, Ruka will say, “It’s time to do some critical thinking here.” One mistake we make as humans, is that we often prefer to stick with what we know, as opposed to exploring what’s out there. Well, bro, it’s time to reevaluate your friendship. Do you guys still have things in common or are you just doing a lot of “Remember when” and “back in the day”? Friendships can get stuck once in a while, and while not all are toxic and some are still fixable, it’s important to know the difference so you can save yourself the wahala.
3. Understand your boundaries, bro
You can’t blame someone for walking into a door you left ajar. Knowing your boundaries allows you to know what you can or cannot take from someone. Define these boundaries and if people cross them, talk to them about it. How will you resolve issues with people in your life when you can’t even trace the source of your problem. Help the people in your life help you abeg.
4. Look for a non-confrontational way to resolve the issue
Before you call your bro out, try to settle on other ways you can fix the problem you both have. Change the dynamic slowly —they might not even notice. Be open to exploring new things or having more adventures outside of your current comfort zone. Maybe along the way, you might just rediscover what made both of you friends in the first place. But this only works if your friend is annoying. Bro, if they’re toxic toxic, skip this step with vim.
As men, we’re not the biggest fans of confrontation especially when it’s personal and involves our feelings. Well, it’s time for you to get over that feeling and move into 2022. If someone makes you feel uncomfortable, please call them out with quickness. Talk to your friend about what you’ve noticed and why you think it’s happening. If tears move start coming, bro open your eyeballs and cry. Just make sure you don’t leave anything unsaid. Vulnerability >>>
6. If they’re making points, listen
If after speaking to your guy he then decides to share his thoughts with you, please listen. Who knows? You might be the villain in this story. But you also need to know that it’s not by force to accept their explanation.
7. Japa
You’ve done your part — the critical thinking, the trying to change the dynamics, and the talking. Now, it’s time for you to bounce. Not all friendships are meant to last forever. Take the memories and lessons you’ve learnt and move on. By the way, sometimes, it’s best to just jump right to this point and leave the whole others behind. Life is short my guy.
What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
Nonso Bassey might not be living his best life yet, but the actor/singer is definitely living a life of gratitude. ”I’m very thankful for where I am now in my life,” he says. “The last few years have been a learning curve for me. And I’m just thankful that I’ve come out the other side better, more determined, and just more thankful to be alive.”
When we talk, his emotions are sincere, infectious even, forcing me to sit back and look at my life through a different set of lenses. After all, if someone could find gratitude in the face of pain and a gruelling journey of self-discovery, then maybe, just maybe, there might be something for the rest of us.
In this episode of Man Like, Nonso talks about how his mum’s death has inspired him to chase his dreams with vim, navigating two industries that continue to doubt his talent and his journey to overcoming self-doubt and insecurities.
When would you say you had your “man now” moment?
I’ve felt grown-up for a while now, but what shook me was my mum dying last year. Having to step up in a way that I’ve never really had to, that changed me. I’d often heard people before say, “You’re never fully grown-up until you lose a parent or both parents.” And that was so true to me last year—stepping up, footing bills, paying school fees now. Like hey, na wa o—this adulthood thing is real, like, there’s no going back. So, if anything, it has made me more determined.
I’m so sorry about that man. How are you doing?
So, last night, I had a bit of a diary session with myself and I broke down. I realised I’d been on a steady go-go mode since she passed, and that’s because her death pushed me to confront the fact that I’d been holding myself back for a long time. I had been living in fear, and it forced me to start the process of letting that fear go. I’m done waiting to live.
Gratitude has also been very helpful for me. I’ve become a lot more thankful for everything—for everyone in my life, for every little kindness, for every mistake, and for every wrong done to me, because they all contributed to making me the man that I am today.
You mentioned that you’d been living in fear, holding yourself back. Why?
Who knows why we do these things to ourselves? I grew up knowing I had the talent to do anything I set my mind to. But the older I got, the more life and people socialised me into being afraid and limiting myself. I remember coming into the entertainment industry through music, then I got into acting and had this identity crisis because everyone kept telling me to focus on one thing or asking if I was good at any of them. People in music thought I was unserious and people in the film industry didn’t think I deserved the roles I was getting.
All of this takes me back to when I was younger and because I was doing a lot back then, I didn’t fit in anywhere because I was sort of everywhere. I didn’t know my place then and after joining the industry, I still couldn’t figure out my place. I was very insecure. Things are changing now though. I’m currently figuring out my shit and getting more confident in who I am.
How are you figuring your shit out? I need pointers, please.
Journaling plays a huge part. The more I write about how I feel, the more I’m able to understand and express those feelings to other people. I’ve done this on and off for a couple of years. It has taught me a lot about who I am and why I do certain things. It’s also a way to make sure I don’t forget parts of my life.
Talking about memories, there’s this thing where people fear they might forget the people they’ve lost over time, do you have that fear?
I don’t think I have that fear. As painful as it is to lose someone, death is a part of life; it’s part of some big picture. I’ll die one day and nothing will matter. She has lived her life and I’m glad she was around to support me because she was my biggest motivator. Back when I was scared to chase a creative career and I had a 9 to 5, she was the one who called me aside and asked me to go for it. The next year, I was on The Voice.
What I can do is make sure I attain a level of excellence in my career that honours her.
That’s so moving. How do you manage both parts of your career to achieve this excellence you’re gunning for?
I focus a lot on the talents I’ve been given and what I want to do with them, as opposed to the industries they fall under. It can be overwhelming because I have multiple interests and passions and to a large extent, that’s why I’ve had to struggle with my identity crisis. But now, I can confidently say my approach to combining the two has changed because I’ve realised I can’t do everything at the same time.
These days, I think hard about what I can focus on now, and I embark on that project. What’s the next step and how does this part fit into my big picture? I’m exploring ways to tell stories with my talents, but also taking it one step at a time. I have completed the puzzle in my head, and now it’s time to put the pieces together.
You spoke about hesitancy from both the music and film industries when it came to your work. How did that affect you?
It was awful. I felt this need to please everyone and when that didn’t happen, I hid in a shell and did my best not to stand out. But now, I don’t let these things faze me. I’m not religious, but there’s a part in the book of Isaiah that says, “You will hear a voice behind you, saying ‘This is the way, walk in it’” This has been my guiding compass. I go with my gut and work on whatever I want to work on.
A word! But do you ever feel self-doubt?
I’d like to say I’ve been confident from the beginning, but one place I struggle with self-doubt has been making friends. I’d never felt worthy of love or good enough for myself and other people. It has affected me in more ways than I can express, but I’m working on it.
Do you remember when this feeling of being unworthy started?
I can trace it back to 2019 which was a dark period for me. My music wasn’t working out, I was robbed, l lost my car and I lost relationships too. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. I had to take a step back, become a hermit and listen to myself. I guess that worked out since I’m much better now.
Switching gears to being a Nigerian man, what are some of the things you have learnt about yourself as you’ve grown into a man?
I’ve learnt that I am a leader. I have always known, but I took it for granted. Leadership is service, doing things for other people, and thinking about people, not just your agenda for getting ahead. I’ve also learnt to give myself and my time to something bigger, to other people. I’ve learned that I care about other people. I’m not in a rush, because what is for me is for me, and what is not for me will not come to me. That is the biggest thing I have learnt as a man: how to love and think of other people.
Nonso for president! So when you think about the concept of masculinity, what comes to your mind?
I think the word is what we make of it. We’ve always defined what is, and you know culture changes. Being a man to me means taking care of my own, providing for my own, stepping up, taking initiative and building something that’ll outlive me.
Have you ever felt like your masculinity has been threatened at any time?
Not really. Growing up, I had six sisters. And growing up around that feminine energy tends to rub off on you. I grew up making more female friends and being more comfortable around girls. But it’s not a threat to my masculinity.
So I’m curious about what brings you joy these days?
I go to a really tall building, climb up to the highest floor, or the roof (if I have access to it) and just view the city. I love city lights; they do something to me. Sometimes I go to the beach on a Monday, when I know I would be the only one there, and just dip my feet into the sand and listen to the ocean. You know I am an artist. These things just inspire me to create. But something funny that brings me joy is washing plates and frying plantain. As much as I hate cooking, I can fry plantain all day.
LMAO. So would you be open to washing my plates?
LOL. No problem.
These days, almost every guy is going to the gym and working out as if there’s a war coming and we just don’t know what to make of it. With the rate at which mandem are hitting the gym these days, it only felt right that we explore some of the pros and cons of becoming a Nigerian gym bro.
Pro: People fear you because they think you can fight
The moment your chest starts looking like throw pillows trapped under a blanket and your arms look bigger than someone’s head, everyone around you automatically assumes you know how to fight. You’ll find men hailing you randomly with “big man”, “boss” and every other oga-adjacent name in the Nigerian dictionary. This is good for your self-esteem, and to be honest, it’s just great to know no one will try nonsense with you out of fear.
Con: Muscle is vanity and you can’t fight
Tell the truth and shame the devil. Can you fight? Having big ass muscles is great, but you’ll need more than that to win a fight. Remember how small David finished Goliath with a catapult? That’s about to be you when you decide to use your vanity muscles in a real fight and die because your opponent decided to throw an antique Nokia phone at your forehead. Better sit down and add more whey protein to your pap.
Pro: Women want to hold and touch your arms all the time
Women love to hold arms. I don’t know why, but it does something for them. That and rubbing a bald head like they’re expecting a genie to jump out of it. When you become a gym bro with big arms, your girl and her girls will grab your arms for no reason. It’s actually cute.
Cons: Women really really like the arm thing and you’ll get tired of it
Even though I initially described it as cute, the cuteness will wear off and you’ll slowly start dying inside. Sis, leave my arm alone now! Do you want to remove it and take it home as a souvenir from my burial?
Pro: Going to the gym and eating clean improves your mental and physical health
Every gym bro who actually eats right and maintains a consistent routine will tell you that they wake up and go to bed feeling really good. Yes, life and this shithole Nigeria will frustrate you daily and no amount of Romanian Deadlifts can save you from that. But at least you know the one place you can escape and be in control is the gym, and it feels so fucking good.
Cons: Improved mental and physical health, but at what cost?
Living a healthy life is expensive AF! Why am I buying a “healthy” wrap full of leaves for ₦3000 when I can buy a shawarma and a low-budget bottle of diluted wine for the same amount. Then there’s a gym membership, protein shake, creatine and pre-workout money? It’s too much abeg.
I don’t even have to say too much about this. Gym bros and removing their clothes unprovoked go hand in hand. Working out builds your confidence and that’s why all you need to do is breathe and a gym bro will take off his shirt (and pants sometimes) just to show you his gains. Oshey, Ikeja Chris Hemsworth! We keep saying it’s to track progress, but deep down, we’re just whores of Babylon.
Con: Your whole existence becomes a thirst trap
The moment you post a shirtless picture or a picture in your underwear tracking your quads or hamstrings growth, people will rush into your comments shouting “thirst trap” and “ashewo”. It’s almost like gym bros can’t breathe without being sexualised. We just want to have peace and be treated like every other human. Is that too much to ask?
Pro: Your clothes will fit better
When you work out, clothes fit better. You can rock the yassified version of the classic igbo man mosquito net shirt or really tight shirts, and it’ll all just fit like a glove. Your clothes will always give what they’re supposed to give. But kindly note that if you didn’t know how to dress before,, becoming a gym bro isn’t some How Do I Look? style intervention.
Con: Your old clothes don’t fit anymore
Being naked is not a bad thing, but at some point, you’ll have to wear clothes and what will you do when your clothes don’t fit anymore? We talk about this sensitive issue in hushed tones and it gets swept under the rug a lot, but the same thick thighs that save lives do usually rip your jeans every two months. Your favourite trousers will turn into leggings and your favourite shirt will start to restrict your airflow. E choke for real, my brother. Who has money to be changing clothes in this economy?
Pro: You make friends with other gym bros
There’s always a community of other gym bros looking to support and champion you on. When you hit a new personal record, they’re there to hail you. And when you feel like you can’t push through that final rep, they’ll scream and shout until you actually do it. It’s actually really sweet how gym bros show up for each other.
Con: Weight can fall on your head any time, any day
This is pretty self-explanatory. As someone who has had a barbell fall on his face and scatter his teeth, I can confirm that this and other gym accidents usually happen once in a while. Are you sure you can handle it?
What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
Tolu Olasoji has built a career writing important Nigerian stories. Cutting across sports, culture and technology, his work has been featured in Vice, Quartz and Al Jazeera. But despite all of this, Tolu is not a fan of interviews, especially when they place him front and centre.
Considering the fact that storytellers rarely get a chance to talk about themselves and their experiences, I reached out to the renowned writer and convinced him to sit for his very first interview.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about leaving home for the first time during his NYSC, how the #EndSARS protests influenced his decision to finally leave Nigeria, why he doesn’t like the word “japa” and why Nigerian men seem to be obsessed with football.
When would you say you had your “man now” moment?
When I moved away from Lagos and my family to do my National Youth Service (NYSC) programme in Taraba state. It was my first time out of Lagos.
First time?
Yes. Before going for service, I had succeeded in avoiding anything that would make me travel out of Lagos or far from home. It’s not a sentimental thing for me, it’s more about the physicality of travelling. I don’t mind moving from point A to B, but I’d have to physically make that journey and I hate it. I actually rejected my admission to a university outside Lagos because of this.
But when Taraba came along, I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t something I anticipated. I thought I’d redeploy to Lagos because I had dreams of making it as a radio presenter there, but I got to Taraba and everything changed.
What changed?
I started to enjoy myself in camp. My mum called me and also got other family members to convince me to redeploy, but I made up my mind to stay and start afresh there.
My family was worried about the insurgency in the north, but I found myself having such a great time meeting people and rediscovering myself, moving back to Lagos just seemed unnecessary. The media career I wanted for myself in Lagos, started manifesting in Taraba right after camp. I started hosting shows with my friends on the radio.
I felt like there was something for me in Taraba and I owed it to myself to explore it. I was finally experiencing life on my own, and it was so good, I asked them to stop sending me my allowance. I was ready to build my life around my ₦19,800.
LOL. How did that go?
Omo, looking back, I realise that it was a trap. LOL.
So did you struggle with adjusting to anything in Taraba?
I won’t say I “struggled”, but no matter how open-minded I am about things, I draw the line at food. Even though I tried, I found it hard to enjoy the food there. I was like, “Where is the pepper?” The traditional food there didn’t gel with me, so I just stuck to their versions of regular food I was used to.
Was that all?
There’s also the thing about moving to a place where they speak different languages from what you’re used to. But it wasn’t such a big deal because I was focused on overcoming that barrier. Interacting with people who don’t understand what you’re saying can be difficult, but just like most people who find themselves in this situation, I did my best to learn. I started with the bad words and worked my way up. LOL. Football also played a vital role in helping me connect to the people around me. It was a good way to immerse myself into the community because I was always either playing football with some of them or catching up on football games at random viewing centres.
What were the hardest and easiest parts of moving?
The hardest part was definitely travelling by road for 31 hours from Lagos to Taraba. That was a lot.
But it’s ironic because the easiest part came from that trip. This long ass trip from Lagos to Taraba introduced me to one of my close friends, T. We were on the bus together, got to camp at the same time, and because we got to camp late, they made us sleep outside the regular hostels for corpers. At some point, we were so pressed, we had to go into the bushes to take a shit together. We talked throughout. It sounds weird now, but it was really cool. We stuck together after that and throughout my service year. Fun fact, he’s still in Taraba.
I can’t imagine what it’s like for people who get thrown into the deep-end of NYSC with no one in their corner. It was easier to settle in because I had friends like this.
With the way you’ve hyped your time in Taraba state, I’m surprised you didn’t stay back too.
Oh I had plans to stay in Taraba, trust me. I had made another friend after we left camp, and we both bonded over the fact that we had studied tech-related course in school and I had a tech background. We realised there was an untapped tech market in Taraba, so we both made plans to stay back after NYSC to see if there was a way we could penetrate this nonexistent tech ecosystem. Unfortunately, he had to leave immediately after service for personal reasons and I was left alone with that plan.
I did try to see it through, but they weren’t really receptive and I ran out of money to sustain myself so I ran back home. I got back to Lagos, reached out to people I knew and eventually got a job as a sports writer and the rest is history.
You mentioned connecting with people through football, which makes me wonder how you found your own connection with football?
Fun fact, I might be popular for writing and offering commentary about soccer, but the truth is I never really liked it from the jump. I thought watching 22 people run around on a pitch was a waste of time
I preferred basketball. But the more I came in contact with football, the more I got attracted to the stories behind it. You have all these different players and fans from different backgrounds losing their minds over this sport. It’s fascinating.
There’s a story to every match, and I’ve learnt to look beyond the pitch.
Has football taught you anything about who you are as a person?
It has helped me unlock my power of imagination. I don’t know how to explain it, but I didn’t immediately learn football by playing it physically. Instead, I played a lot of games in my head first before eventually hitting the pitch. Another thing is, football helps me relax. It doesn’t matter if I’m playing it, watching it or writing about it, something about it just calms me down. I love soccer so much that I have two scouting certifications that I’ve never used before.
Why are Nigerian men so into football?
For the most part, I think Nigerian men are attracted to the sense of community it brings. You can’t walk through an estate or street without seeing one makeshift goal post made of things from bricks to metal and even bathroom slippers.
Football is what calls us because, for a lot of us, it’s the one thing we have easy access to. Maybe it would’ve been different if these goalposts were hoops. Maybe then Nigerian men would be really into basketball.
Pivoting from football, I recently found out you moved again. So you’ve done the Japa thing too?
Japa throws away context and creates this feeling that I’ve escaped, and I’m not coming back. People automatically assume I’m gone for good. To be honest, I’ve never been a fan of moving out of Nigeria. The only conscious effort I’ve made was to study away from the chaos here. I’ve been wanting to do this for years, but the opportunity finally came and there was money too.
For someone who didn’t want to leave Lagos at all, you’re a really long way from home.
I know right. Like I said, I always wanted to leave for school. I got to a point where I felt like I needed a journalism degree to match the work I was doing after freestyling for about seven years. But another thing that motivated my move was how the #EndSARS protests played out.
Luckily for me, my only experience with SARS was when I had a close-shave with them in 2017. But outside of my personal experience, covering stories during the protests showed me that every Nigerian knew someone who had been harassed or suffered violence at the hands of SARS. For a guy with beards like mine, I knew I was an easy target.
I didn’t feel safe anymore, especially in a country where I was being profiled.
What surprised you the most about how Nigerian men navigate masculinity in America as opposed to back home in Nigeria?
People don’t really give a shit about how you look here in America. So a friend of mine recently saw a picture of my dreads on Twitter, and he went off about how most Nigerian men land in America and start dressing and looking anyhow. LOL. It’s wild to me because my dreadlocks weren’t intentional and even if it were, does it matter? Even if I was in Nigeria, I would do the same thing. I’ve always been unconventional in the way I look and dress. One thing that happens a lot in Nigeria is how we are all expected to look a certain way that passes the mark as responsible. These restrictions shackle us as Nigerian men.
The big difference between navigating masculinity in Nigeria and in America is the freedom from people’s projections of who I should be or how I should look.
Nice. So I’m curious to know what brings you joy these days.
Okay, in this order: love, food and soccer. That’s all.
