No matter how old you are, navigating the ups and downs of dating apps can be quite the chore. From endless swiping to the high likelihood of being catfished — and then the conversations that eventually go to die on WhatsApp — not a lot of people make it past the getting-to-know-you phase on the app. So when these 40+ men told us they actually found love on dating apps in the year of Beyoncé 2022, you know we had to get the full gist.
I met my girlfriend almost a year ago, after being on Tinder for about five months. My 17 year-old daughter had bullied me into signing upon the app as I’d been single since we lost her mum in 2009. I thought it was a funny app and I was judgmental of the people there because I just thought it reeked of desperation. However, all of this changed when I met Toyin, my girlfriend. She’s only a year younger than me and the best thing to have happened to me in such a long time. Would we have met randomly on the streets of Lagos? Well, we’ll never know now. But I’m so happy I took that leap of faith even though I was skeptical at first. It’s been a year and I don’t regret a thing. Let me tell you something: love is sweet.
“I was just looking for a good time and now I’m in a romantic one-chance” — Sheriff, 40
A relationship was the last thing on my mind when I came back to Nigeria for the holidays a few months ago. I’d been on dating apps for a while and for me, it was all about the sex — good time, not a long time. In Philadelphia, it worked well for me, so I thought I’d just do the same and have a bit of fun in Nigeria. That’s how I got here, opened a dating app and matched up with this babe in like a week. We met up for drinks and then I found myself hanging out with her every day after that. Imagine? All my Detty December plans in the mud because of a woman.
I don’t regret it though, she makes me so happy and I can’t imagine my life without her. I was supposed to go back in January, but my work is remote so I’m still here. I’ll have to go at some point, but for now, I’m happy and in love.
“My children and I give each other relationship advice” — Victor, 41
I met my girlfriend Pat about three years ago, in 2019. I’d been through a messy divorce just two years prior and I was scared to put myself out there again. Plus, my two boys moved in with me after their mum left the country. Deep down, I just wanted them to view me as a responsible single father, and I felt going on multiple dates would taint that image. After saying no to many matchmaking attempts from family, my younger brother convinced me to sign up for a dating app. Swiping left was difficult for me because I thought it was rude, but over time I got over it.
I met Pat around June that year and by the time the 2020 lockdowns started, we were living together. She gets me in a way that allows me to have space and just exist as my own individual. I love that; I needed that. My sons are dating as well and we have a group chat where we just talk about our relationship issues and try to figure out solutions.
“I’ve never been happier or more settled. He feels like home.” — Bassey, 45
Dating apps for queer people can be really tricky. We all know it’s dangerous because you could easily get tricked, harassed, extorted or worse, killed. But deep down, for most of us, it helps us deal with loneliness. I met my man on a popular queer hookup app. At the time, I was looking for sex, so we just became fuck buddies. People claim that catching feelings for your fuck buddy is common, but Jide wasn’t my first, so I don’t even know how it happened. We moved from sex to conversations to dates, and now we live together. I never saw myself as one of the commitment gays, but here I am in love and fully committed to one man. The funniest part is if he proposes today, I’ll probably say yes even though I know it’s not feasible .
“We work together, but we also met on a dating app” — Uzo, 43
My girlfriend and I currently work together, but we initially met on Tinder. I joined the app as a joke a while ago, but one thing led to another and I met this girl who just blew me away. I didn’t think it was going to be anything, I mean she’s like eight years younger than me and we have totally different interests, but something about the way we could talk for hours (I hate calls) pushed me to explore the potential. While figuring this out, her company acquired mine and now we’re colleagues. No one knows yet and that makes it even sexier. Are we in love? I don’t know. But I know we’re on a journey towards it and I’m so excited.
Fraternities are a prominent part of the American university experience. As Nigerians living in Nigeria, our first introduction to the idea of fraternities tends to come from movies and TV shows with “bros” throwing parties and just doing the most. And while fraternities have a place in Nigerian university culture as well, dating back to 1952 when Wole Soyinka and a few other men established the Magnificent Seven, the activities of violent cult groups seems to have drowned out actual fraternities — but they still exist. We spoke to some men about their experiences with these non-violent fraternities over the years and how they impacted their lives.
Frederick, 29
Fraternities in Nigeria aren’t the same as what you’ve seen on American TV — at least not in my own experience. For one, while we had parties and get-togethers, we didn’t all live together or have this very bro-centric lifestyle. Funny enough, it was a lot of work because the fraternity I was a part of during my university days was heavily focused on academic excellence. I had joined in my second year following an invite from my roommate and in my head, I thought we’d be getting wasted all the time but alas. For someone who was very into books at the time, would I have preferred a frat that helped me escape academics? Yes. But I stayed because I still got to meet amazing people. Plus, my first internship which led to my first actual job was set up by an alumni frat brother. That’s a W.
Ufedo, 25
My experience with the fraternity I joined in university was toxic as hell. No, it wasn’t like a cult with people constantly fighting or getting killed, but it was weird nonetheless. Our toxicity was rooted in elitism and misogyny. I come from a popular wealthy family and I think that was why they approached me. I was also naive and didn’t have friends so I joined. Looking back, I realise we were big assholes in the way we treated girls, passing them around and slut shaming them every chance we got. To us, it was “bros being bros” and honestly, it was — and still is — a reflection of a society that tolerates and rewards bad behaviour from men. I can admit all of this now because I’ve had to reflect and work on myself. But given another chance, I wouldn’t be a part of something like that again.
Nnamdi, 42
I don’t know what frats look like now, but in my time, it was super organized and strict. My dad had been a frat member and since I ended up at the same school he attended, I had no choice but to join as well. It wasn’t a bad experience, but it wasn’t great as well. First, I had the pressure of living up to the expectations the fraternity had of me based on who my dad was. And then I also had to live up to my dad’s expectations as well. It was a lot. Back then, we had to plan a lot of events from clean-ups of the school’s premises to intellectual debates with other fraternities. Between all of this and regular school work, I didn’t have a life of my own. I just went through five years without having experiences that were uniquely mine. Sometimes being a part of a unit can be suffocating if you don’t create balance. That’s the lesson I had to learn.
Kenneth, 30
Joining a fraternity in university was one of the best decisions I ever made for sure. Moving from Lagos to the East, I was in a school far from home and in a place where the culture and language were completely different from what I was used to. It took joining a fraternity for me to fit in. Seeing these guys from different states and studying different courses banding together as brothers gave me a family away from home. We would all hang out together, throw the craziest parties, help one another get babes and sometimes dress up in similar outfits — which in hindsight was a bit much — but I needed to feel like I was a part of something. I’m glad I got the frat experience. I still talk to my frat brothers today, even though it’s been almost nine years since I graduated.
Sholape, 28
My biggest issue before I joined was differentiating between a fraternity and a cult. A fraternity approached me in my first year of university and since I couldn’t immediately tell the difference, I thought it was a cult and fearing for my life, I didn’t think I had a choice. I joined out of fear. LOL. I think it was during the first meeting that I realised these were just boring guys that liked to wear collared shirts and red ties like choir members twice a week. It was a huge relief and I remained a member because, why not? I don’t think it did anything for me aside from helping me pass time in a school I hated. Then again, I was a very “meh” member who didn’t give a shit.
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.
Terna Iwar has always been an elusive figure in Abuja’s burgeoning creative community. As a photographer and creative director, his work has been featured on i-D Magazine, Guardian UK and the New York Times. But years ago, alongside his brothers — Suté and Tay — Terna started what would later become a movement that became an important part what’s known as alté culture today: Bantu Collective. The label/creative space grew into a haven for creative misfits in Abuja catering to artists like Lady Donli, AYLØ and Terna’s brothers.
It wasn’t long until their unusual sounds reached Lagos, influencing other artists like Odunsi the Engine, Cruel Santino and Wavy The Creator. “I grew up isolated with my artistic leanings, but I knew there were a lot of people like me in Abuja, who were also unsure of what they wanted to do or how to approach their talents. Creating this space felt right,” he says.
Now, with the alternative movement influencing global pop culture, Terna sits with Zikoko for a different conversation, focusing on his views on masculinity. In this episode of Man Like, he talks about how moving to Lagos changed his life trajectory, his concerns about how people view masculinity today and why he made a major career switch from Business Computing to photography and art direction.
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Let’s talk about growing up. What was that like?
My dad was a police officer, which meant my family moved around a lot. I was born in Jos, spent my baby years in Markudi, moved to Lagos when I was seven years old and camped there for 10 years.
Lagos felt very interesting: there was this sense of being out of place, yet knowing it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.. We left Markudi, which felt like a safe playground at the time, and landed in a city that was fast-paced and dangerous. How dangerous? We lived in a government estate and the army came to kick us out.
Ahh. How did we get here?
LOL. This happened when I was 14. The gist was that Obasanjo sold 1004, which was a government estate at the time, and they evicted everyone without creating a plan for where we were supposed to move to. Being evicted in that way and from that particular estate was a lot to process because this was a community where we all knew each other one way or the other, and the next thing, the army was kicking down doors asking us to leave. We eventually moved to Yaba and stayed with my uncle for a bit before we got a place of our own down the line.
How did this event and constantly moving affect yourself and your family?
I was too young to note how it affected me. But looking back, I know there aren’t that many people from my childhood that I’m still friends with today. It’s less than a handful. For my family, upheaval has always been part of the Nigerian lifestyle, so we just did our best not to dwell on it. I’m sure it had a ripple effect on us considering we were homeless and living with someone else at the time, but it could’ve been worse.
Damn. Through all of this, was there another moment from your childhood that also had a major impact on your life?
I’ve had plenty, but I’m not sure which one I should give. A dark or fluffy story?
The dark one!
LOL. Okay. Let me tell you about the time my school got burnt down and I had to hide in the ceiling.
Oh shit. Okay, let’s do the fluffy story.
LOL. Too late. So in the very first year of my time in secondary school — I was 11 — the final year students fought with the teachers and decided to burn down the school’s administrative block. I had to hide in the ceiling of the boy’s hostel for my safety.
Sorry?
It felt like a movie. Everything that followed was a bit fuzzy for me now, and I think that’s how I coped with the experience. I remember changing schools, going back home and only being able to eat cold boarding school style food for a long time. I was living like a savage, eating cold noodles and eba and concoction soups. I eventually got adjusted.
Omo. This has me thinking, when did it hit that you were “a man”?
I don’t know how it works for other people, but I never had one moment. There have been different points for sure: when I started driving and was picking my siblings from school, or my first job or my first rented apartment. Or maybe the time I had a pregnancy scare and I really had to sit and seriously contemplate fatherhood. However, I don’t think it’s a one-moment thing for me because even now, I’m still learning. It’s not stagnant.
In your learning process, what’s one lesson that has stuck with you?
I’ve learnt that my emotions are not my enemy. It’s the biggest lesson I’ve learnt over the years.
What did you have to unlearn?
That being stoic doesn’t always give the results you hope for. Being stoic creates space for you to deny the totality of who you are as a man and as a human being. We are all thinking and feeling creatures, and for the longest time, I fell into this stereotype of suppressing my emotional range. When I would feel angry, I would put a tight leash on my anger. But sometimes, you just have to be angry.
Being stoic can be useful and will carry you through a lot of tough times, but you know what they say about too much of anything…
How has this lesson come in handy in your day-to-day life?
It helps in moments where I have anxiety. Ordinarily, I’d just shut it down and compartmentalise, but more recently, I try to sit down with it and figure out where it’s coming from. By the time I figure that out, I’m no longer anxious.
Nice. For you, what would you say is the scariest part about navigating masculinity in Nigeria?
The scariest part is that everyone has different ideas about what masculinity should be, and it becomes a thing when you don’t fit into this idea someone else has created.
I liked being in the kitchen a lot when I was younger because I liked cooking. I remember an uncle visiting at the time made it his job to point out that boys were not supposed to be in the kitchen. Even at that age, I knew it was bullshit.
I also think that we’re a traumatised nation and that also affects how masculinity manifests itself and is talked about. We live in a country where governance and economic systems are failing, you add that to the many social issues we have and it becomes a potent cocktail for rewarding bad behaviour. A lot of the ways we are raised as Nigerian men doesn’t allow for reflection, healing and reconciliation.
Do you think as Nigerian men, we have evolved with the times?
Hmmmm.What a lot of men hold up as the pinnacle of masculinity; always being strong, holding everything together etc, hold us back from not just re-examining what being a man is, but also what it could be.
I think most women are very aware of not just what they are in society but where they could be. It’s very powerful. Nobody grows without honest reflection.
You talk about “re-examining what masculinity could be”. What are the possibilities for you?
For me, I want to be healthy — physically and mentally. I’ve learnt that hurt people hurt people. If you’ve been traumatised your whole life, whether you’re a guy or girl, not passing that trauma on takes a lot of work.
This makes sense. Do you mind telling me how you process trauma?
Introspection, meditation, journalling, affirmations and facing my problems instead of running from them. The journalling part is important for me because it can be meditative, introspective and provide a platform to work through thorny problems for me. Be sure to keep people around you to keep you grounded. That helps too.
Thank you for that. Talking about journeys, I’m curious about your creative story?
Growing up, I was attracted to both the sciences and the arts. Even though I did a lot of sciences up to the university level, I always tried to explore my artistic side: writing, drawing, sculpting, clay work and music.
I picked up photography in university. It allowed me to tap into both my scientific and artistic inclinations. For the science part, you need to know about angles, light, weather, the technicalities of the camera itself, etcetera. On the art end, you’re producing something visually pleasing, and hopefully, if you put a lot of thought into it, people see it and it sparks something. I also did a bit of graphic and website design when I was in school.
How did you manage everything with school?
Did I manage? That’s the question. LOL. I’ve never particularly been enthused with school. The first time I actually had a good time when it came to school was when I left university after studying Business Computing and Digital Media to go to Art School for photography. I try not to keep that many regrets, but a minor regret of mine was not pursuing art from the jump.
How did your parents take this career pivot?
They were not happy, but they’re also not the type to not stand in your way once you can prove you’ve done the homework and are determined.
Cool. So what projects are you working on for the new year?
Well, first I guess it would be to put out more work. A lot of people would say I’m incognito on social media. This year I want to share more of my work. I also have several personal projects I’m working through.
Nice. Can’t wait to see them!
As Nigerian men, sharing or talking about how we feel is not something we’re all used to. For some, sharing comes easy. But for others, the boundaries are so thick that no one can come in. After this viral video dropped, we decided to ask some married Nigerian men what they thought about the video and who they talk to when the going gets tough — tif they talk at all.
Tola, 32
I talk to my mum a lot. Honestly, I think it’s lowkey unhealthy how close we are because if anything happens in my life — sexually, mentally, physically or otherwise, my mum is on speed dial like, “You won’t believe what just happened.” I’m glad she created that space for me to open up and it’s something that I don’t take for granted. It started when I was a child, and now it’s almost like a reflex move. I got married last year and while I’m close to my wife, my mum is still the first person I turn to when life gives me gbas-gbos. She has spoken to me about talking to my wife first and I’m trying my best, but I guess old habits are just hard to shake off.
Jesse, 29
I have a rule: If I can’t solve it, there’s no need involving anyone else. It may sound harsh, but I grew up as an only child and didn’t get to talk to a lot of people. It helped me be introspective in a way I fully understand how my mind works. When I feel a certain way, I analyse the situation and try to trace the cause. A lot of girls I dated back then have found it weird but my wife gets it and gives me space when I need it. She also knows I’m there to help with her problems when she needs someone to talk to. I’m just not wired the same way. It’s not effective 100% of the time, but nothing ever is.
EL, 29
I watched that video and found it weird. Yes, men find it hard to show their emotions, but some of these guys sounded proud of the fact that they had no one to call. Why? It’s a shitty thing and not some cool accomplishment. I don’t think I’m better, but I’ve developed a sort of openness with the people in my life that I have multiple people to talk to when things get rough. I have my wife, male and female friends, co-workers, family members and even exes I can call depending on what’s going on. Most guys hide behind the assumption that they have no one to talk to, but really, have you even tried talking to anyone before?
Ifeanyi, 33
I have the best female friends a guy could ever ask for. Being an effeminate queer man, I’ve always gravitated towards women and I’m not ashamed of it. Over the years, they’ve shown up for me more times than I can count. They were the first set of people I came out to, even though you would have to be blind not to have known. They supported and stood by me when I was kitoed and had to escape to the UK. Even though I’m married now, my husband knows that when I’m struggling, my girls are number one on my call list. He knows there’s history and he understands. I also know it’s quite uncommon and straight women can also be dangerous when it comes to weaponising queer people’s queerness against them, but for now, I’m content with my tribe.
Treasure, 30
I’ve always been quiet and reserved so communication has never been my strong suit. I started therapy about two years ago before I got married and I think it has helped me open up more to my wife. While I tend to tell her things I’ve already spoken to my therapist about, I think I’m on the right track. But I can’t deny the fact that I feel more comfortable with a therapist. There’s something easier talking to someone who doesn’t know you, once a week. With my wife, I see her every day when I wake up and before I go to sleep. If I tell her some of the things I tell my therapist, I’m scared she’ll never look at me the same way again.
Obioma, 28
This is why I have my guys. We try to go out at least once a week and even though we tend to end our nights in the club, the first few hours after we link up post-work, is focused on just catching up. If anyone has a problem, we put our heads together and look for a solution or simply check for how we can make them feel better. As men, we’ve created this prison for ourselves and it’s unnecessary — you think people are watching you for signs of weakness but it’s all in your head. I saw it happen with my dad and how he just shut out everyone. And now, no one knows how to talk to him. I don’t want to repeat that. Even if I can’t talk to my wife, at least she knows I’m not bottling everything in.
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.
Today’s Man Like is Ebuka Nwobu, a creative producer at Ladder, Lex & Booker (LL&B). His production credits include Tem’s Damages and Crazy Tins, BOJ’s Abracadabra, Rema’s Dumebi and OdunsiTheEngine’s Star Signs. He has also produced ads for Martell, Jameson and PiggyBank.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about how his family’s financial background affects his relationship with money, taking responsibility as the first son, being a Christian in “uncool” times and how money stops nonsense.
What was growing up like for you?
I grew up the first son in a family of six boys from a lower middle-class family. My childhood was peculiar because even though we lived in a rough area and didn’t have any money, because our parents sheltered us from our surroundings, we ended up being ajebutters. Thinking back, I only started speaking pidgin English after I was done with secondary school. My parents had shielded us from our immediate environment for so long, I didn’t even know how to speak pidgin English.
If I didn’t tell you about our financial situation growing up, looking at me, you wouldn’t know.
Through all of this, was there a moment that stood out to you in your childhood?
Being Nigerian and with everyone wanting a grass to grace story, I’m tempted to mention the time our landlord chased us outside the house. But when I think about it, what stood out was all the times richer family members disappointed my parents despite making promises to help us. Seeing my parents go through all of that helped me realise that no one can change my situation, just me. I’m independent because of my background and I believe that anything I need, I’d just have to get it for myself.
This is why we should eat the rich. What was it like being the first of six boys?
I was very aware of my responsibilities from a young age. My mum had my fourth brother when I was in primary school, and I became responsible for taking my two immediate younger brothers on a bus to school. Even though they gave us money, I would convince passengers to lap us so I could take the money back home to my parents. They didn’t ask me to do this, but I knew I needed to do all I could to make things easier for them.
Even now, I have to be exemplary to my siblings. I have to show them through my own life that they can do anything they want.
That sounds like a lot of pressure.
Not for me. It’s all I’ve ever known. I was born into it.
Coming from this background, I’m curious about your relationship with Money
Other people might not get this, but I don’t rate money. I’ve seen it come and go so I don’t place too much importance on it. I have significantly more money than my family did when we were young, but it hasn’t changed anything about me. I know that if I lose everything today, I’ll be fine. I do my best to control money, as opposed to letting it control me. Don’t get me wrong, I save, but when it’s time to spend, I’ll do it well because this life is one.
All right. Diving into your creative work, what would you say is the most challenging thing about being a Nigerian creative?
Executing ideas in a place where everything seems to be designed to make you fail. To be a creative in Nigeria, you have to be adaptable and flexible in a way that constantly puts your creativity to the test. You’re trying to be creative, while also creatively tackling all the problems that keep rearing their heads.
Problems?
Mehn, we’ve had to rewrite stories on set because of one disappointment or the other and there was also the time we had to go hunting for generators on a rainy night in the middle of covid curfew because PHCN took our power and our backup generator said “not today”. Another crazy instance was the time we had to escape a gang war which broke out right in the middle of our shoot, all because a fight scene in the video inspired an actual fight.
Nigeria and wahala. LOL. How do you cope?
It’s God. Being a Christian makes it easier because I know that according to the bible, there’s nothing I can’t do.
Interesting. How did you find God and faith?
Finding God for me wasn’t like a big-bang type event. It happened over a period of time and is in fact still happening. The university was my first major exploration of independence — financially, physically and spiritually. I went to church because I wanted to, not because I was made to. During this time, I’d be in moments of worship so intense, there was no doubt in my heart that I was communing with a power beyond the natural. I’d learn spiritual principles, practice them and see physical results. I’d be in meditation and gain supernatural insight on various issues. I’d be filled with anxiety, pray about it and gain peace that can’t be explained by I couldn’t explain rationally.
Finding God for me was and still is the sum of all these experiences.
Tell me about being a Christian in the creative space
For me, I subscribe to a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. It’s useful to me because it’s how I make sense of the world. I believe we all need a foundation of some sort and the bible is the through which I gauge my identity.
My parents started my Christian foundation. But while your parents might try to indoctrinate you, you have to know God for yourself. If not, it’s not real.
Have you ever struggled with your faith?
Earlier in my journey, I struggled a lot with ideas propagated by Christianity. Some were things touted by preachers and some others were things from the Bible itself. Atheists have questions about God, I have asked God these questions too. Questions are important because they help us grow and unlearn as Christians. I find answers by asking the Holy Spirit to give me insight. I sought to know for myself what the truth was, not what the pastor said, but what God himself was saying.
Spirituality is my secret weapon to defeat everything that life throws against me. Even if I find out later that God is not real, it would still have been beneficial to me because it gave me the vim to face life.
What are some things you’ve had to unlearn in your Christian journey?
There’s a culture around Christianity that is indoctrinated into us as we grow in Nigeria. It’s very judgemental and exclusionary. For example, a lot of people justify homophobia using Christianity, but my personal study of the Bible informs my current belief that gay people are indeed born gay. I used to argue that gay people chose to be gay until I read Matthew 19:12 and it answered the question conclusively for me. There’s also the guilt trip approach to getting people to contribute money to churches. It doesn’t work for me anymore because I know my blessings are not tied to my offerings.
We exist in a time where Christianity is not necessarily “cool” on the internet. Has this influenced your relationship with God?
No. My Christianity revolves around my personal relationship with God and I believe that’s something that most people lack these days. For you to believe in something, you need to test it and have a personal conviction about it. There’s nothing wrong with embracing vibrations, astrology etcetera, the important question is do you actually feel a connection to these things or are you just repeating cool catchphrases off the internet? If you’re following the herd, then you’re not that different from your parents who embraced Christianity without asking questions or discovering Christ themselves.
I’d also like to point out that spirituality is not about what’s “cool”, it’s about what works for you.
That makes sense.
I’m far from a perfect Christian. Even when I’m doing bad things, I know I’m doing bad things, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a Christian. I’m still in the process of growth. It’s just like me being an Igbo guy and doing something “un-Igbo”. It doesn’t change that my name is still Chukwuebuka Nwobu. We’re all learning.
LOL. You know what? Fair. Your style is sick, but I’m curious to know if there have been weird reactions to the way you dress?
Choosing to grow locs is not something that makes my mum happy. LOL. But I just like to do whatever I want to do. As a human being and as a Christian, I believe I have the liberty to express myself the way I want to as long as it doesn’t harm anyone. For example, I went to my village for a funeral with my hair and earrings and my dad’s siblings had a lot to say. I, however, noticed that people couldn’t say it to me directly because where there’s perceived success, you can almost get away with anything. They think I’m rich and they don’t want to offend me. Rules are for broke people in Nigeria.
If you no get money, hide your face. LOL. What gives you joy these days?
I like partying with my bros and working on all my shoots. To be honest, my general dispensation is joyful.
Come through, black boy joy. As a big fan of your work, I’m curious about your creative journey.
Most people don’t know this, but I used to be in a boy band in university. LOL.
Stop
Yeah. I was in this church creative crew and someone randomly asked me to drop a verse on a song they were rehearsing at the time and that’s how I became a rapper. Leaving university, I realised that to push my songs, I would need money and I didn’t have it. I eventually had to pivot towards something else I was good at and that was content creation, something I had been doing since I was a child organizing dramas in church.
My brothers, my friends and I decided we would create shows similar to what we saw on channels like E! and put them on YouTube. We actually interviewed Falz, Yemi Alade and a couple of other stars at the time. Coordinating the interviews sparked my interest in presenting and I started auditioning for presenting jobs around Lagos. To be honest, I wasn’t very good. I had jitters and it would affect my speech. It was at one of the auditions I bombed that I actually pitched myself as a producer to the company. I showed them the things we had done on YouTube and they hired me.
Mad o!
After a while, I left there to work freelance before getting a job at Mavin as the Head of Visual Production. Leaving Mavin, I decided to start and focus on my production company Ladder, Lex & Booker (LLB).
What’s the best part of your job?
It’s funny because what I hate the most is what I also love the most about it — the rush. There’s something beautiful about bringing something to life amidst all the chaos. There’s a saying that creatives are the godliest because when you think about it, the first thing God did was create. Even if I wasn’t making money, it’s something I’d still do.
You’ve been doing this for a while now, what is your idea of success?
I think I’m already successful. I’m not at the apex of my career, but I’m making money from something I enjoy. To me, that’s success. For my company, I want people to look at our work and say we brought the Nigerian film industry to a level at par with global standards. I also want people to say we created opportunities for creatives in Nigeria.
I’m rooting for you.
My fellow kings, if there’s one thing you should focus on this year, it’s securing the bag. Who cares about emotional growth when you can do dorime every Friday? Just because you’re not in tech claiming donkey abi unicorn status, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve good things. To help you unlock the fresh baby boy life, we’ve compiled a guide on how to land sugar mummies #watimagbo✊🏾.
1. Use all your money to sew trad
You want to land a premium sugar mummy and you’re out here wearing skinny jeans and all these alté baffs? We can see you’re not focused in life. To get the part, you have to look the part. Wearing trad all the time makes you look responsible. Your sugar mummy can be seen in public with you and still introduce you as her business partner or assistant. It makes life easier. Why do you think all the men in Abuja are wearing trad?
2. Grow a beard
My fellow king, being a fine boy is important, but what does it profit a man to pack all the fineness in the world and still end up beardless? We all know beards are to men what bone straights are to women. If your beard has been struggling to connect since the last elections, I’ll strongly advise you to walk away now because this sugar baby thing is not in your destiny at all.
3. Find rich friends and start fornicating with their mums
Do you see that guy in the club that’s always doing dorime? Yes, the one from a wealthy family. It’s time to kiss his bumbum with vim until he becomes your friend. Convince him to invite you into his home, and when no one notices, cut eye for his mother. Take risk and succeed.
4. Switch to your native name
Our research has shown that sugar mummies respond more to Nigerian names. Sorry for you if you’re still doing “Daniel” or “Jerome” because Mrs. A is looking for an “Adekunle” or “Ndifreke”. Have you met a sugar baby with a colonizer name before? We’re glad you know this too.
5. Invest in a babalawo
Nollywood wasn’t lying; jazz is real. It’s time for you to copy one of those numbers you see on the road offering love potions. Meet up with baba, tie red satin around your waist, drop boiled yam and palm oil at your junction by midnight, collect the love potion and trap your sugar mummy’s destiny in a groundnut bottle. Before you know it, you’ll have moved into a flat in Ikoyi.
6. Pray, fast or manifest
This is for those of you too scared to step into the dark side of juju. If you want to pick the longer route, you can fast and pray to sky daddy to send a sugar mummy your way. Keep in mind that Abraham and Sarah did not receive their package until they were 100 years old and 90 years old respectively. If you’re into star signs and Mercury in Guinea brocade, you can light scented candles and start manifesting. Good luck to all of you.
7. Become a gym rat
Do you see that six-pack you’ve been avoiding? You must have it o. All that eating hot semo by midnight like a witch has to end today. Register in the nearest gym and spend at least four hours running up and down like your village people are chasing you. Lift the heaviest weight you can find and be motivated by all the credit alerts your future sugar mummy will bombard you with. Sha note that the goal is to look like Mawuli Gavor, not The Rock. No go dey do pass yourself.
8. Stop chasing small small girls around town
If there’s one thing we’ve learnt from Nollywood films, it’s that sugar mummies hate it when they have to share their property. You can’t be chasing an oil rig and still have time for kerosine. If you’re currently in a relationship, end it now (it will even save you Valentine money that you don’t have). Before you know it now, your sugar mummy will start talking about how she picked you from the gutter and made you who you are today. To avoid insults, put all your eggs in sugar mummy’s basket.
9. Drown yourself in oud
Before you enter an estate, they need to smell you from the gate. You’re putting the perfume on your neck and wrists only? You must be a novice. Fix up asap.
The novelty of the new year has worn off and it’s officially time for us to settle into 2022. But before we dive fully into the year, we would like to remind Nigerian men that these fashion trends need to die with fire. We’ve had enough and we honestly can’t take it anymore. Thank you.
1. Ashawo shorts that go below the knee
Ashawo short that cannot show any thighs, is that one even ashawo? Please and please, if you want to be an ashawo , do it with your chest. Why are you still wearing shorts that cover your thighs? Are we in 1999? You can’t be in the middle this year, pick a side and stick to it. We will be patrolling the streets with scissors. If we catch you falling our hands, we will redesign your shorts.
2. Super tight skinny jeans
Why? I thought we left this nonsense in 2009? With all the global warming and heat in Nigeria, you think suffocating the next generation to bear your last name is acceptable? Let’s stop this wickedness in 2022. At least consider unborn children. Thank you.
3. Crocodile mouth shoes
Unless you have six containers on the high sea and a very hot deal with the underworld, there’s no other reason why you should be caught wearing these shoes. Do you have a meeting with Clems Ohameze and Kanayo .O. Kanayo later this evening? Let’s kill it with fire.
4. Ashy lips
This might not be a fashion trend, but it’s still very important to us at Zikoko. Harmattan is still well alive even though Lagos people don’t know what that is. And yet, some men have decided that they’d rather be White Walkers than actually use lip balm. And If lip balms are threatening your masculinity, you can always go back to good old vaseline.
5. Mohawks
This needs to stop, please. Are you in 2010? I know Buhari said we should all be farmers, but why are you walking around with ridges on your head as if you want to plant corn?? Except footballers sha; those guys can’t be stopped and we’ve given up.
6. Slides and white socks
If you’re in the Gen Z crew or live in Jos, then this post is not for you. Do you, boo. The rest of you, are you not hot? Why are you dressing like a Nollywood IJGB? Free yourselves from the shackles of copy copy.
7. Net singlets
Are you trying to trap an Anopheles mosquito? If yes, go ahead.
8. Short-sleeved suits
This is for 50+ men and labour leaders that eventually transition into broom-wielding governors. The less said about it, the better. Smh.
We all know building relationships can be hard AF, but you know what’s more difficult? Walking away from a relationship you’ve invested your time and energy in. Spanning across romance, career and friendships, et cetera, these men finally walked away from relationships that weren’t serving them anymore. Here are their stories:
Priye, 28
I was involved with a woman for far too long who was carrying a lot of emotional baggage from her past. She refused to take responsibility for anything and would always find a way to blame or make me feel small whenever we had issues. I subconsciously started feeling that because I’m the man, any bump in our relationship was my fault. I was deeply insecure and all her words just kept eating at me untill I felt empty. Why did I stay? I can’t tell if it’s because I truly loved her or maybe it’s because I felt unloved as a child and this was the only version I knew, either way, it wasn’t healthy.
I eventually started seeing a therapist who helped me realise that my desperate need to be loved was blinding me from my current reality. I needed to fix myself first because the truth is, If I don’t respect and love myself, how do I expect someone else to do the same? I applied for jobs outside Abuja and eventually moved to Port Harcourt because I knew if we stayed in the same city, I wouldn’t be able to break up with her for good.
Kaodili, 22
As a gay man, having homophobic parents is one of the worst things that could ever happen to you. All my life, my parents have told me that I was a mistake, an abomination. From the moment I had consciousness, I knew I was gay and to be honest, I think my parents figured it out too. I remember my mum hitting me at the slightest chance she got. I was miserable AF. My dad, on the other hand, was too disgusted to even pretend to care. He just acted like I didn’t exist. The weird thing is that they weren’t even religious. The world hating you is one thing, but having your parents treat you like shit? Man, it hits differently.
I eventually got into university in the East, far away from them. It was the first time I felt some sense of peace and belonging, especially as I found my tribe in the school. I haven’t been home since I left and honestly, I don’t think they care. I graduate in July and once that is over, I’m moving to Lagos with my friends. I used to want my parents’ approval and love, but now I know I deserve to be surrounded by people who truly see me. As for my parents, they can choke.
Wole, 33
My work is my life. I know it’s a sad thing to say, but I honestly can’t imagine my life without two large-ass desktops facing me daily. It took me three years post-university to get a permanent job that I liked. I had sent over 1,000 CVs and prayed like crazy, but nothing was happening for me. I finally got a job and while I loved what I was doing there, my boss made my life a living hell.
I remember I would wake up every day, scared shitless just thinking about what she’d do next. She would walk in like a dementor and just suck out all the air from the room. It was her man’s company, so no one dared complain about the names she’d call us or the crazy tasks she’d assign. I didn’t want to rejoin the unemployment streets so I sucked it up for as long as I could until I just couldn’t do it anymore. I resigned, and about a month later, I saw people dragging her on Twitter. It felt good to know I wasn’t crazy.
TK, 27
You know those friends who make fun of you whenever people are around, and then gaslight you into thinking you’re overreacting? I had a friend just like that in my early twenties. He was the clown of the group, so everyone knew Jammal was funny AF. Being funny is one thing; being a funny asshole is a whole nother thing. He had this annoying habit of pointing out my flaws in front of other people, sometimes, even strangers. He would joke about my weight, my boring job, the fact that I lived on the mainland and just really petty things. He was a bully.
Whenever I pointed out that I wasn’t a fan of what he was saying, he would turn it around and make himself the victim, and make everyone look at me like I was a killjoy. The last straw was the day he made fun of my mum after my dad left us for another woman. The beating I gave him that day? Lord have mercy. It was brutal but deeply satisfying. You don’t talk shit about people’s mums. I still see him around town and he’s still terrified, which makes me feel good.
Hector, 35
I recently got a divorce and it’s still very hard for me to talk about it. We were married for seven years, and if I’m being honest, the first five were the best years of my life. As we got older, we just started to grow distant and it wasn’t anyone’s fault — life happens. The problem was that instead of finding a way to fix the obvious gap in our relationship, we pretended like it wasn’t there because we didn’t want to lose each other. But you can only pretend to be happy for so long before it becomes resentment. Over time, we just started treating each other like shit. We were both mean and I just hope our children didn’t notice any of it.
We eventually saw a therapist and after a while, we realised we’d be happier apart. I hate that it took us this long and that we let the fear of “what if” mess up our marriage. Sometimes, there’s nothing left to save. I still love her and we’re great friends now, but I’m truly glad we split . If not for us, then for our kids.
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.
Today’s Man Like is Yemi Davis, an art director, 3D designer and all-round baby boy. He has been known to collaborate on multiple projects with international brands like British Telecom, USAID, Georgetown University and First Bank, as he continues to explore the unique intersection between art and technology.
In this episode of Man Like, he talks about developing a thick skin after being bullied because of his albinism, growing up as a true omo pastor, how math stopped him from studying robotics and the mental health concern that drove him to therapy.
So Yemi, tell me, what was growing up like?
Growing up was interesting. I’ve got albinism, and when I was younger, I was bullied and called all sorts of names like afin, oyinbo or yellow man. It would annoy the hell out of me. I was also a cry baby so once I heard these names, serious gnashing of teeth. My parents would tell me that these people didn’t know better and crying all the time was not a practical solution. I eventually learnt how to be comfortable with my skin enough to drown out everybody else and their opinions.
I’m curious as to how you found this confidence.
A lot of what I’ve said happened in primary school, but I think I started discovering my confidence halfway through secondary school. This doesn’t mean I wasn’t bullied, I just found a way to trick myself into not thinking too much about it. Plus, there were a lot more pressing issues I needed to focus on.
What other pressing issues again?
So I was absolutely terrible at schoolwork. Fun fact, I failed the math section of my GSCE twice. You know the usual grades are like “A” through to “F”? Well, I got a “U”, which is worse than an “F”. It literally means ungraded, like it wasn’t worth being graded. You might as well not have written anything on the exam paper. How I got into university was a miracle.
The only subjects I was good at were ICT, English and Fine Art. Everything else, zero. My teachers kept telling me there was no way I could make it on just those three subjects, but I already sort of knew the trajectory I wanted my life and career to take. Thankfully, it was in line with the subjects I was good at.
You already knew what you wanted to do with your life in secondary school? Must be nice.
I mean at the time I wanted to study robotics.
Say what now?
I know right. A lot of people didn’t even know what it was at the time. Even my physics teacher was confused. To quote that song, “No one knows what it is, but it’s provocative. It gets the people going.”
So Tony Stark, did you do the robotics thing?
The first time I wrote the GSCEs, I went with my dad to collect the result and as soon as we got there, I knew I had failed. I did well, generally, but math was just my problem. My dad was the first one to see the result and I could smell the disappointment in the air. So basically I had to redo it again and this time, I realised that the sciences were not for me. I loved tech and art, so I had to figure out a way to combine both. I was looking through university brochures and found a course called Graphic Design and New Media, which basically combined the things I love. I looked through the requirements, wrote the second exam and even though I failed math again, I scaled through and got into university. Now, I’m a graduate working as an art director and 3D designer.
Whew. I hate to take you back, but how did the bullying you experienced affect you?
Getting bullied has been a somewhat good and bad experience for me. Good because I now have restraint for certain situations and can handle myself when I’m upset. But at the same time, things that should make me upset tend to just fly over my head. So it’s either I don’t react or I fail to react with the level of intensity I should.
Are there any scenarios you’d like to share?
So when I found out I got a 2:2 for my bachelors, I didn’t feel too bad about it. If anything, it further reinforced the fact that I’m not the best at academics, which honestly, I had come to terms with. Would it have been nice to get a better grade? Yes. But the people who truly mattered (my family) were okay with it and that’s all that mattered.
Normally, I’d be upset about something like that, but what I had gone through turned me into one of those “carpe diem” types of people, so I just try to enjoy the moment and avoid letting negative things get to me, especially when they’re beyond my control.
Wow. But how does this affect your relationship with people?
So I started seeing a therapist when I was in university abroad. I would say I’ve improved quite a bit since that time and now I’m better at feeling things.
As men, we rarely talk about our mental health so I’m intrigued as to what inspired your decision to seek therapy.
When I got to university in the UK, everything felt unreal. There were certain times at night where I felt like I was observing myself from outside my own body and genuinely thought I was losing my mind. I used to run to my friends house because I was scared. I later found this toll free number on campus you could call in when you’re feeling depressed or suicidal. I reached out to them and they suggested I see a therapist who diagnosed me with Depersonalisation Disorder.
Getting this diagnosis helped me really understand what I was going through because while I had been to England frequently as a child, this was my first time here alone and I was just 18 years old. The disorder happens to people when they are placed in places foreign to them and at the time, England was a strange place for me. It was this new environment that was cold as fuck with so many white people in one place. I assumed I had everything under control and I was handling the move well, but apparently I was not. Over time, all my suppressed emotions eventually bubbled up to the surface.
Omo.
First day at therapy, and I didn’t know when I started crying. Big man like me? I hadn’t cried in years, and I was just there bawling my eyes out. I remember my therapist telling me it was normal to cry. It was a nice opportunity to be vulnerable and also understand that it’s okay to be that open and honest.
How long were you in therapy for?
About two months.
When did you realise you didn’t need it anymore?
So it wasn’t two months back to back, but more like two months worth of therapy spread over a longer period. I stopped going in my second year of university because I felt like I had found my footing.
Have you ever felt the need to go back?
Yes. I probably will, but I’ve been putting it off. Right now, I’m focused on work. I’ve been having this creative block and my head just feels clogged up. I’m sure it’s due to emotions or feelings I haven’t dealt with. I’ll go back soon.
You’ve spoken about being bullied in Nigeria. What was your experience like in the UK?
Much better. I was intentional about having a fresh start and getting to experience other cultures and people. I had friends from all over, and I remember we had this thing where about six of us from different countries would hang out in a flat and basically make food from our different countries. That’s how I got to try sadza, which is like Fufu from Zimbabwe. It was a nice experience.
See enjoyment.
LOL. Then again, I had some people calling me “Yam” instead of Yemi. I mean, it’s a four letter word. How hard could it be?
Screaming. Have you ever had a “I’m a man now” moment?
That would be when I had to move out of the school dormitory and look for a place of my own after my first year in university. Damn. House hunting was not fun. It was crazy because I was still a stranger in this country, but I had to go get a place, sort out guarantors and sign a lease. It was tedious and made me realise that I was no longer a kid. I had moved from my parents’ house to a dorm and now I had to get a house where all the responsibilities fell on my head. My parents supported with rent, but they still had their own shit in Nigeria, so I eventually got a job to supplement for months when I didn’t get money from them.
What job did you get?
I remember my first job was with Dominos. I didn’t work in the main shop; instead, they made me dress up in a pizza box and just dance on the streets for like five or six hours.
This visual is killing me. Your current career path isn’t the most conventional. How did you sell it to your parents?
They didn’t respond to it badly because even as a child, my dad had a printing press and I used to kick it with the designers. I remember I was already panicking and thinking about how I would convince them, but they were like, “If you’ve prayed about it and it’s what God wants you to do, then fine.”
Awww. So are your parents religious?
Ahhhhhhh. Both my parents are ministers in church.
So you’re like a real omo pastor?
Yeah. When we were younger, we had to go to church. It wasn’t even a question. There was no “My tummy is paining me” or “I have a headache”. As long as you could physically walk, you would be in church. It was interesting and annoying because while everyone left after service, my family would stay back for hundreds of meetings. Church closed at 12 p.m., but we would be there till about 4 p.m. Also, as ministers, my parents got transferred a couple of times, and I didn’t always like the new church.
How did all this moving around affect you?
I missed my friends. We would move to a church, I would make friends and then we would move again. Honestly, it was chaotic. I was able to still keep in touch with some of them via Facebook and BBM because at that time, I wasn’t allowed to go out often.
Why weren’t you going out?
For the most part I didn’t do much going out other than the cinema or to see my friends, and even with these hangouts, I had to book an appointment with my dad days ahead and tell him whose house I was going to and how long I’d be there for. Even after all of this, he would still find a way to scatter everything on that day. That’s why when I got my freedom in university, I went out and did the most. Now my eye don tear.
LOL. Now that you’re a proper adult, what’s your relationship with your parents like?
We’re pretty good now. My dad supports my endeavors, while my mum is the person I go to when it comes to discussing intimate things.
Cool. Talking about spicy intimate things, what’s the dating scene like for you?
Honestly, I’m just being a baby boy, chilling and hanging out with people. My last relationship during the pandemic and she was absolutely wonderful. After that, I just decided to take out time for myself to heal, but now I’m at the point where I can try again.
If you don’t mind me asking, why did it end?
It wasn’t anything crazy, but it’s between the both of us, so I’d rather not get into it.
Fair. So Yemi has entered the streets?
Yes o.
But more specifically, has your albinism affected your dating life?
Honestly… I don’t think it has.
Great. So it’s a new year, what are you excited about?
I definitely want to put out a lot more personal projects this year. Last year was focused on client work, and I didnt get enough time to explore my personal ideas. I also want to put myself out there this year. People always say they don’t know what I look like, and now I’m posting more pictures so they can finally see my face.
Love that for you!
Dear Nigerian men, it’s looking like the era of depending on your six-pack to take you to the top is over. Elusive cousins, dollars and pounds, are rising faster than your blood pressures, making the streets tough as hell for y’all. This means that the time has come for you fit fam men to stop working out like you’re trying to get cast as the next Gentle Jack and find ways to diversify your portfolios. If you’re with me, keep reading for tips, and be blessed.
1. Beg Zikoko to employ you
Thankfully, I’ve been able to hack this one. For the rest of you, the time has come for you to lip-sync for your life, dust off that CV, hunt down Zikoko editors, and start begging them like you’re a salesman convincing people in public transport to buy sketchy-looking staphylococcus medication from you. May the odds be in your favour.
2. Invest in selling Akara
Last year, it was shockingly revealed that Akara sellers make approximately N30,000 a day. While this insane claim might have been made by a not-so-reliable source, there’s no harm in trying. If you do the math and work weekends, you could earn close to N1 Million a month. Is Akara the new tech? You’re about to find out.
3. Learn how to sew
If, like Abuja men, you know what’s up, you’d know that starting an overpriced trad-making “fashion” label is the way to go. To effectively scam people into paying N100,000 for up and down, you’ll need to build your social media presence. I believe you can do it sha. Go forth and rob people, you fraudulent king.
4. Do whookup
This might not get you money, but it guarantees you premium orgasms. I’d rather be a broke man getting proper orgasms twice a day, than a broke nigga lifting weights made out of stone like I’m an Israelite slave in Egypt. Check and balance it, na.
5. Buy and sell sardines
You have to be living under a rock not to have noticed the rapid increase in the price of sardines. This is your time to think ahead of the crowd and make business moves that could make you the next Dangote. Start out small with one of these unknown brands and by December you might be selling Titus. Wow!
6. Hunt down and trap a tech bro or sis with your sexual prowess
You don’t need to be able to code or even be interested in working to get into the tech scene. There are several other ways of “entering,” if you know what I mean. *winks terribly* All of us will enjoy this national tech cake last last, either by using our brains or some of the other organs heaven gave us. The end justifies the means.
7. Scatter people’s relationship
If the universe (i.e the tiny voice in your head) says that someone’s woman/man is yours, who are you to go against fate? That being said, only listen to the universe when it’s directing you to someone’s rich partner. If you investigate and the person is poor, tell the universe to clean its glasses and look again. Poverty is not our portion.
8. Read “Rich Dad Poor Dad”
I don’t know what the book is about, and I haven’t met anyone who became rich after reading it. But the book is famous for allegedly opening people’s minds to the secrets of success. Take risk and succeed. If all fails, you can join “intellectual” Twitter and kiki at their financial literacy jokes.
9. Learn how to code
Some of us have tried this and failed because our brains said “bitch, you can’t.” There may still be hope for you sha. Join tech Twitter and hustle your way into one of these startups that keep popping up. Who knows? You just might become the next big tech CEO who tweets wildly problematic hot takes and gets dragged for them every two weeks.
10. Become an Instagram/TikTok Influencer
If you’re complaining about this being stressful and time consuming, remember that deadlifting, squatting, preacher curls and bench presses are worse. It’s time for you to do all the challenges you see online until brands start reaching out to collaborate. Taymesan doesn’t have two heads.
