• The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad. 


    Kaima (26) turned down advances from a creepy boss who made her life difficult and moved to the UK alone. In this week’s Abroad Life, she talks about how living in the UK has changed her approach towards religion and how she’s been navigating marriage in a new country.

    When did you leave Nigeria, and where do you live now?

    I left Nigeria in 2021 through the study route. I live in the UK now. 

    Is there any particular reason why you left the country?

    At that point in my life, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life in Nigeria. It felt like I was stuck following the same old pattern everybody followed–complete your NYSC, start looking for a job and pray that life gets better from there.

    I also didn’t want to find myself in a position where I would finish my NYSC and start hoping that my Primary Place of Assignment (PPA) would retain me. The PPA in question had started to feel like a nightmare at the time too. I was working with one egoistical and creepy boss.  I just didn’t want to find myself in a position where I wouldn’t have any other option than to be at his mercy or the mercy of the job market so I decided I would explore and leave the country.

    Plus, I really wanted to be independent because, at that point in time I was living with my auntie, and the living situation wasn’t the best. I guess I wanted to feel like a proper adult if that makes sense.

    Do you mind telling me more about your boss?

    He used to make weird advances at me. He would always ask me out or try to get me to go on dates with me, and it just felt a little inappropriate. 

    The job had a weird arrangement, too– It wasn’t letting me put any of the skills I had to use. Plus, he had this weird ego trip that didn’t help matters either–. He used to send me on errands that had nothing to do with why I was working there. There were times when he sent me to go and buy stuff or put on the generator, and soon, It went from errands to petty rules that made no sense.

    He wasn’t always in the office, so he made it compulsory to call him when I got to the office and before I left the office. Then he would say things like, “You’re no longer allowed to take any excuse.” I remember one time I went out for lunch, and when I say that I went out for lunch, I mean that I literally just went to buy food at the end of the street. He got to the office and found out that I had stepped out, and he started yelling. It was past 3 pm, and I hadn’t eaten all day, so I didn’t get where the outrage was coming from. He just kept yelling and talking about how I wanted him to show me his ugly side. That kind of behaviour among employers has become normalised in Nigeria, and I just couldn’t deal.

    Apart from my boss’s misbehaviour, there was also the NYSC side of things, in the sense that everything just seemed like a power trip. Even something as simple as monthly clearance becomes a nightmare. You can show up at your local government with the hope of thumbprinting and end up not being able to do so because your local government instructor isn’t in a good mood or got mad because of some petty reason.

    The decision to leave Nigeria was the result of all those experiences combined with my dissatisfaction with my work and personal life. 

    So is life different in the UK?

    Yes, completely different. For instance, your work relationship with your boss is healthier. Don’t get me wrong, I know there are a lot of good bosses and healthy workplaces in Nigeria, but here, things are more professional. You’re not at the mercy of your boss, and they treat you like a normal human being. 

    That’s good to know. You mentioned that you left Nigeria as a student; how’s that going?

    I’m done now. I graduated in 2022.

    Congratulations. How has life been since then?

    It’s been amazing.  I’ve figured out what I wanted to do and the field I wanted to go into. I’ve also been able to find all of the resources and all of the help I need to advance in my career at the tip of my fingers.

    My life is much more interesting, and I feel at ease. Back home, when I was always stressed or worrying about one thing or the other, it reflected in the way I approached religion.  Now that I’m in the UK, how I  pray has changed. I’m no longer praying for the basic things of life. 

    Can you tell me more about that?

    Back in Nigeria, I was praying for things that nobody should have to pray for. On days I have to go for my monthly clearance, I’ll say, “God, please let my LGI thumbprint for me today without stressing me”. When I’m stepping out of my house, I’ll say, “God, please, don’t let me get into any accident; may evil not be my portion.” 

    I’m not saying that being in the UK automatically means you’re safe from accidents, but I don’t really see the need to pray that way anymore. I also used to pray for money in Nigeria. Sometimes, I even prayed to God about wanting someone to send me as low as ₦10,000. Those were valid needs, but they haven’t featured in my prayer since I moved to the UK three years ago. This place just has a way of making life easier for you.

    I’m curious though, how did your parents feel about you making that mature decision to leave everything you knew in Nigeria to move to the UK?

    I was very intentional about moving to the UK alone. My family took the news well, and they supported me. My dad has never been a fan of japa, but he understood that it was a decision I was making for myself, and he supported me. Even some aunties and uncles supported me financially. The decision was also easier to make because my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband, was in the UK.  He was very supportive too. I had a lot of support so that made moving alone less scary. But I would say that the first year after moving was not easy.

    How so?

    I was still paying off my school fees so there was a bit of financial stress. I was also in an entirely new country, and I didn’t know how many things worked. I didn’t have any friends, and I was an introvert.

     Back in Nigeria, I struggled to make friends, too, so I just used to wait until I met one nice extrovert to take me under their wings, but that was harder to find in the UK.  It also didn’t help that I was the only Nigerian in my class. I was actually the only black person in my class, so I felt like I was on my own.

    At some point, I stopped focusing on not having friends and started channelling that energy into getting a job because I still had school fees to pay. Being a student, I was only allowed to work part-time but the job offers I was getting were full-time offers. They didn’t want to hire anybody part-time, so I found myself working in a retail store. As somebody who had never done a menial job,  I struggled.

    I had to do a lot of heavy lifting, and I just couldn’t deal.  I remember my first night at the job, I actually started crying because I was not used to it. Everything just felt so heavy, but after a while, I got used to the whole thing so that became less of a problem.

    But the fact that I didn’t have friends or my family around still made things hard for me. I became very depressed because of that, actually. The depression got worse during my first winter in the UK. The cold had a way of making me feel alienated from everything I had ever known but I think after the first year, especially after I graduated, I started enjoying my stay here in the UK.

    What changed after graduation? 

    After graduation, I started volunteering for proper jobs. I was also relieved of the stress of writing my thesis and doing menial jobs. So after graduation, I had more time to focus on getting a full-time job and learning to enjoy my own company. I also had more time to actively step outside of my shell and start making friends.

    You mentioned that you got married. How did that happen?

    I’ll have to give you a backstory.  He was actually the one that encouraged me to do my Masters outside the country. I’ve always wanted to study abroad, but I didn’t know how. I’m not from a rich family, and I wasn’t financially stable either, but he asked,  “Why don’t you just get your international passport?” So I did that, and then he was like, “Why not just write your English proficiency test?” I did that too. Later, he said, “Maybe you should start applying to schools” Then I decided to try; the entire application or relocation process was just me trying my luck.

     Before I knew it, I was already in the UK. He was also very financially supportive throughout the move. Then I moved here, and we continued dating, but we lived in different cities. After I graduated, we  moved in together and got married, 

    Congratulations. I’m guessing that’s one of the good things that happened after graduation.

    Yeah, it is. For the entire duration of the study,  he was my only friend. It was helpful to have someone because, on days when I was just overwhelmed, he was there to help me get back on track. 

    Let’s talk a little bit more about married life. How’s that going?

     It’s been really good. One thing I’ve always wanted is to marry a Nigerian.  I don’t quite like change, so I love that my husband has a solid idea of who I am and where I’m from. I don’t want to spend all day at work speaking through my nose for my British colleagues to understand me and still not be able to speak freely with my husband. It’s also important for both of us to maintain our Nigerian roots. 

    We’ve been talking about having children, and we want to make sure that they know who they are so they don’t end up having an identity crisis. We’re not parents yet, but I think it will be tricky trying to strike that balance between life in the UK, which is primarily what the children will know, and our Nigerian roots.

    Now that you’re starting a family in the UK, is there any plan to move back to Nigeria in the future?

    No, we are not considering that. Even before I got married, I knew I wanted to stay in the UK. That’s why I was intentional about getting a job before my student visa expired. 

    Is there anything about the UK that still shocks you sometimes?

    There are things that still surprise me about living here. People can be very nice, but they can also be passive-aggressive. In Nigeria, I’m used to people being straightforward, but here, sometimes, if someone is being passive, it might be for you to understand that they just don’t like you. Nigerians are more open and bold with their emotions.

    But I’ve noticed good things too. For example, everybody opens the door for you. It’s those small social cues. I had to pick up too, when I moved. Even if someone is 100 meters away, you’re kind of expected to hold the door open for them.  It took a while for me to get the idea, but I’m getting used to it.

    I think the hardest part is just having an identity crisis. . I miss being in Nigeria, where everybody around me is Nigerian. I never had to code switch, all of that.  I guess that’s why the friends I made in the UK are Nigerians.

    I’ve travelled home a few times in the past couple of years; it just feels relaxing. I can relax and just be myself but in the UK, I always have to switch my accent when I go to work or anywhere else. When I get home after a long day of speaking like I foreigner, I always  feel the joy of removing a nonexistent wig

    I’m glad you have friends now. How did you end up meeting them?

    My friends are mostly spouses of my husband’s friends. I met them, and then I was introduced to some other people. I also met some friends in church.

    I have friends in Nigeria, too, but distance has been a barrier.

    How happy are living abroad on a scale of one to ten?

    I would say 9.5 because I  miss my family.  But I love my life in the UK.


    Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT). 

  • The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad. 


    This week’s Abroad Life features a 25-year-old woman trying to navigate life in the UK after her husband disappeared on her. She shares what it’s been like living with her supportive brother-in-law without her parents’ knowledge and her ongoing struggle to make sense of her marital status.

    When did you decide to leave Nigeria and where do you live now?

    I wasn’t planning to leave Nigeria, but life happened. I live in the United Kingdom now.

    What do you mean when you say life happened?

    As I said, I didn’t plan to leave Nigeria, but in 2023, I met a guy on Facebook– He sent me a DM, and I could tell from his profile that he lived in the UK. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but I wasn’t against the idea either, so we started talking every day. It was a normal talking stage, but I almost ended things before they even started.

    What happened?

    He told me he was 37, but I did my own digging and found out that he was actually 42. I wasn’t comfortable with the fact that he lied, but I called him out on it, and he apologised. 

    How old were you at the time?

    I was 24. His age wasn’t a dealbreaker for me because we connected on the same emotional and intellectual level. What I had a problem with initially was the fact that he lied so early in the talking stage. I took a break, but after a few days and several apologies from him, I cooled off, and we started talking again. He asked me to be his girlfriend in October, and I said yes. 

     Before you met him physically?

    Yes.  Everything felt so right at the time. Sometimes, I’d even forget that he was in the UK because he was still a very present part of my life. I could be having a bad day, and he would send me a surprise gift. He prioritised regular communication, so we didn’t ever have any of those “why didn’t you pick my call?” arguments. Plus, I was in my final year of university, so it wasn’t like I had time to be in a physical relationship anyway. 

    Okay, valid.

    Yeah but to be fair, I don’t think I was doing a good job at schooling with or without a relationship. So I had three carryovers in my final year, and it became an automatic extra year for me. I was too embarrassed to tell my parents; it was even more embarrassing to tell my boyfriend because we had only been dating for about two months at the time. But one of my closest friends asked me to tell him so I did. He took the news well, and he offered a solution.

    What was the solution?

    He suggested that I join him in the UK. He has always been straightforward about wanting me to move in with him so that wasn’t the first time he brought it up, but that was the first time I considered it. I knew by then that either a failed course or an ASUU strike was going to make me spend more than one extra year in school.  

    We talked about what our lives would look like in the UK and how he would support me if I decided to study there. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, so I agreed. After that conversation, he introduced me to his sister and told me he would visit Nigeria in December to meet my parents so things got more serious from there.  That December, he met my parents and sisters; I had already told them about him so nobody was surprised. He stayed the night, but we had a misunderstanding that night. 

    Do you mind sharing what happened?

    So I was practising abstinence at the time, and he wanted to get intimate. I told him I was waiting till marriage and we argued about it because it wasn’t really something that came up in our conversations before that day. The next day, he said he was fine with waiting till marriage. He also said there was no point in wasting time since our relationship was already getting pretty serious and we already met each other’s family and loved each other. 

    He asked me to marry him that day, and I said yes. Since he was already around, he suggested getting married immediately, and my parents agreed. We ended up having our traditional marriage two days after the proposal and our court wedding the following month. 

    Were you comfortable with how fast things were moving?

    I was. He actually wanted us to do everything quickly so we could apply for my visa and move to the UK with him as a dependant. We started the application after our court wedding, but at some point, I was no longer sure if he still wanted to go through with the move.

    Why not?

    So we had another misunderstanding.  After we got married officially, we decided to find a mini flat to live in  together pending the time we can both move to the UK together. Before then, I was living with my parents, and he was staying in a hotel because neither of us planned for the wedding to happen when it did. 

    We got the mini flat and had sex for the first time as a married couple. Apparently, he assumed that I was a virgin because I was waiting till marriage and felt betrayed when he realised that I wasn’t one. That was the first time I saw him as the 40-something-year-old man he was because who gets upset about virginity? I could have communicated better, but I had no idea that he thought I was a virgin. That was the last time we had sex too.

    Oh

    When the arguments started, some part of me thought he was joking because it didn’t make sense but he started giving me the cold shoulder, so I tried apologising even though I still wasn’t sure what I did wrong. I explained to him that abstinence was a personal choice I made a few years back and if I had known that it was a virgin he was looking for, I would have never agreed to marry him. The apologies lasted for over a month, but I don’t think it was something he could live with. He moved out of the flat and went back to the UK the following month. I called his family, and they assured me he would come around soon, but he didn’t. He stopped picking up my calls and responding to my texts. The only time he responded was when I told him that the visa got approved and I could finally join him in the UK– all I got was a thumbs-up emoji; he didn’t ask how I would pay for my flight, or when I was going to arrive or anything. But his sister and brother were so supportive. His brother booked my flight and picked me up from the airport when I moved to the UK.

    So what about your husband?

    He knows I’m in the UK, but I haven’t seen him since I arrived. He’s also aware that his brother paid for everything and I’ve been living with him since then, but he still hasn’t reached out. Sometimes, his brother tells me that he asked about me, but that’s all. My brother-in-law has been nice and said it’s okay to stay with him until whenever my husband comes around. 

    Do you have a backup plan?

    I don’t have a backup plan for now, but I’m not returning to Nigeria. My parents still think we’re together because I told them that I was moving to the UK to live with him. They have no idea that I’m living with his brother. My sister is the only person that knows what’s really going on. His brother is currently trying to help me get a job, and he’s mentioned me going back to school once or twice now. That’s the closest thing to a backup plan I have at this time. His brother has been paying all my bills, but I’m not sure how long that will last. If I get the job, I’ll probably go back to school. I’m hoping my husband comes around because I haven’t fully processed the idea that I might be getting a divorce at 25. I’ve been sending him texts, and his brother has been trying to talk to him too but so far, nothing. 

    I’m sorry to hear that. How has life in the UK been so far?

    It’s been hell. I cry more than I laugh these days. I don’t know anybody here except my husband’s family. My husband is acting like I don’t exist, my parents think I’m living with my husband, and I’m no longer sure I’m married. I can’t say that I’ve experienced what life in the UK should look like because I’m mostly in my brother-in-law’s house. Maybe when I get that job and know where my life is going, I’ll have a better answer. 

    On a scale of 1-10, how happy are you with abroad life?

    Probably 2. But I know things will get better soon. 


    Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT). 

  • By now, you probably have seen the viral videos from media personality, Toke Makinwa’s thanksgiving bash, which somehow managed to seat Real Housewives of Lagos casts, former BBNaija stars, sworn enemies and the fashion girlies of the ‘gram in the same hall, sipping vodka under chandeliers. 

    While there was much to speculate about who wore what or how much the drinks at the event cost, more pressing issues of whether Toke is engaged to her long-time friend Farouk Umar caught the attention of the Twitterati. 

    We dug deep to uncover the million-naira question of whether or not he popped the question to her last night.

    Timeline of their friendship

    While we can’t say for sure when they became friends, we can confirm that they have been friends for years. Umar has also made appearances multiple times in Toke’s videos on social media. In one video, the pair teased each other about having children together. 

    Farouk said that if he didn’t find the bone of his bone, he would consider having a child with Toke. Toke also jokingly laughed at him, saying she had no interest in having any children with him.

    Engagement rumours

    While the thanksgiving party was happening last week, videos of Toke and Umar lovey-dovey went viral, with many saying he had proposed to her. It didn’t help that the pair also wore matching white outfits. An X user, @Cyndodo_, jumped on the TL yesterday, claiming that a secret wedding between them had happened. Many ran with the fake gist, and some even started sending them congratulatory messages.

    Toke friend zoning him

    However, Toke, during her thanksgiving after-party, refuted the secret wedding rumours and said that Farouk is nothing more than her close friend. Toke said, “This guy is my best friend. Farouk, my friend, ore mi. This is my nigga and my friend, my brother. Farouk held me down when there was nobody.”

    Toke debunking claims of proposal

    In a Snapchat video, Nigerian actress, DJ and friend of Toke Makinwa, Ms DSF (Dorcas Shola Fapson) first debunked the claims that Toke and Farouk are engaged. She said, “Bloggers please, I’m just joking. They Toke Makinwa and Farouk Umar] are not getting married. Toke is just doing thanksgiving for her birthday.”

    In a recent post on X, Toke also refuted the secret wedding claims again. She said, “I did not get married yesterday, I deeply appreciate all your love and prayers, I see how you all desire for me to settle down and God who is the author of time will do it when he thinks it is right. Yesterday was to honor God.”

    Toke is still single

    Toke said she’s still single. So, dear zealous fans, don’t rush Toke into a relationship she didn’t put herself in.

  • The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.


    How long have you been married?

    It’ll be 10 years in November.

    Let’s talk about the beginning. How did you both meet?

    We met about three months after I moved to Lagos from Akure in 2013. I was squatting with a friend in his one-room apartment, and Happiness was his neighbour. She came to my friend’s house  to charge her phone one day, and I was immediately attracted to her. I kept thinking, “This babe is too fresh.”

    After she left, I confirmed that there was nothing between her and my friend, and when he gave the go-ahead, I began pursuing her. It was funny — I didn’t have a job or a house, but I was chasing a woman. 

    Haha. How did you convince her to “gree for you”?

    I had a sweet mouth, or maybe she just liked me. While toasting her, I made it clear that while I didn’t have money, I came to Lagos to hustle and didn’t plan to be broke for long. 

    Happiness was — and still is — really understanding. My airtime once finished on a call when I was still toasting her. When I told her why the call ended the next day, she just said, “Ehya. No wahala.” I thought she’d be angry. 

    I wasn’t even looking at a long-term relationship because I wasn’t ready to support a girlfriend or even a family. But Happiness was so considerate and thoughtful. She didn’t bill me and sometimes even cooked food for me and my friend. Me, I was surprised. How would someone I haven’t bought anything for be cooking for me? I didn’t even know when I fell in love, but I knew I was at my last bus stop. 

    So, when I got a ₦35k/month teaching job a month after we started dating, I started seriously thinking about marriage.

    Did you think you were financially ready for a home?

    I wasn’t, but I also didn’t want her to go. Happiness is two years older than me, and when we started talking, she told me about the pressure she was under to get married. She was 29, and her two younger sisters were already married. I knew she’d find someone else if I didn’t show my seriousness. 

    Also, Happiness had a job, so it’s not like we’d rely only on my ₦35k. She was a secretary and earned ₦60k. We figured we’d survive one way or another, so we got married in 2014 and moved into her apartment.

    How did you handle wedding expenses?

    The wedding was a small affair. We went to the registry and had a small traditional ceremony in my in-laws’ parlour.

    Happiness’ parents initially protested. They thought it was an insult for their first daughter to have a small wedding ceremony. But trust my wife. She asked them to pick one: a small wedding or for their child to remain single. Everybody kept quiet.  

    See now, we didn’t have a big wedding, but we’ve stayed together for 10 years and now have three children. The size of the wedding doesn’t mean anything.

    True that. What are both of your finances like these days? 

    My wife’s brother helped me get a local government job in 2016, and I now earn ₦78k. However, I also get free money  — up to ₦15k monthly when a politician shares money at the office or when my office (I work in sanitation) goes on raids at the market.

    My wife left her corporate job after we had our third boy in 2022. It was stressful for her to handle the job with the kids. So, she’s a hairdresser now. During the long holidays, she also organises lessons for children in our area. 

    The woman is really trying. Our boys are a handful, and it’s tough caring for them and trying to do anything else, but she does it. I just want to make plenty money so I can spoil her well, and she can relax at home. But we’re just managing the way we can for now.

    [ad]

    But how do you spoil her now? Is there a romance budget?

    Ah. Did my wife send you? She always complains that I’m not romantic. She’s not wrong; my own spoiling doesn’t pass buying her ₦3k shawarma once or twice a month. Then I buy her a dress or scarf for her birthday. Sometimes, I send her ₦5k here and there when I get free money from the office. 

    I think she’ll think I’m more romantic when I start sending her more money. She’s always extra happy when I send her random money. I recently promised her I’d be more romantic, so I’ll try to dash her money more. Having any extra money on a ₦78k salary is difficult, but she deserves it.

    That’s sweet. What kind of money conversations do you have with your wife?

    We’re always talking about money — how much my children’s school said we should bring for one thing, how much NEPA sent us for the electricity bill, feeding costs, etc. Tinubu has turned most of these conversations into complaining sessions. 

    For example, my wife will bring one yam tuber and ask me to guess how much it cost. When I guess an amount, she tells me to multiply it by 3 or 5, and we start complaining about how expensive things are. 

    Things are hard o. I’m sure my wife even adds her own money to what I give her for food because there’s no way the ₦50k I give her monthly for food does anything.

    I can relate. Has money ever caused conflict between you two?

    I can’t remember. Of course, we argue, but money is hardly a topic. My wife doesn’t complain about whether the money I dropped is enough or not. I told you she’s understanding. 

    I also don’t hide things from her. A senior colleague at the office always says that women are more demanding when they don’t know how much you have. My wife knows what I have, so she collects it like that. But I still wish to do more for her.

    What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    One day, I hope to transfer to work with the federal government so I can earn more. One of the first things I’ll do is to open a shop for my wife. I’m also considering taking a loan to buy a vehicle I can use as a cab when I’m less busy at work. In a few years, our older boys will be ready for secondary school, and I don’t want them to attend an anyhow school. I really just want a future where we can complain less and enjoy our lives.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.


    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    READ THIS NEXT: The Ibadan Lover Girl Spoiling Her Boyfriend With a ₦120k/Month Salary

  • Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Shola: I saw her for the first time at a friend’s wedding in 1993. 

    She was wearing a bright yellow lace iro and buba, looking like the sun itself. She was much younger—just 18 or 19—but something about her energy drew me in. I didn’t talk to her at first; I wasn’t one to approach women like that, but I kept watching her from across the hall.

    Eva: Yes, I was young—barely 18—and honestly, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’d just started university, so I was focused on my studies. When I met Shola, I didn’t see him as husband material. I thought he was too serious. 

    When did you actually meet?

    Shola: A few weeks later, I saw her at another gathering and made my move. I was in my prime, already established in my career, so I knew what I wanted, and I could tell she’d make a good wife. 

    Eva: There was something about him that felt stable. He wasn’t like the boys I knew who were still figuring themselves out. Shola had his life together, and that was… attractive in a way I didn’t fully understand then. My mum always said I was too naive, too easily swept up by men’s charms, but I just thought I could make it work.  

    And did you make it work?

    Shola: Well, we did make it work… at first. I didn’t even notice the age gap back then. I just thought she was the kind of woman who could grow into a role, into a marriage, and support me like my mother supported my father. Isn’t that what most of us were looking for back then?  

    Eva: But I didn’t know myself yet. That’s what people don’t talk about. I was still becoming “Eva.” At the time, I thought I was mature enough to handle the weight of being a wife, but looking back, I had no idea what I was getting into.

    Did you get married soon after meeting?

    Shola: Back in the ’90s, relationships weren’t as complicated as they are now. There wasn’t all this back and forth with “talking stages” and whatnot. Once I met Eva and knew she was the one, I made my intentions clear. But we didn’t rush; we didn’t marry until 1996. 

    What did you do for three years?

    Shola: We… courted, you could say. I wasn’t one for long, drawn-out relationships, but I respected that she was still young and in school. I gave her the space to finish her studies, but I also wanted her to know that marriage was the end goal. There was no playing around.

    Eva: Courting is a generous word for what we were doing! 

    You have to understand, I was 18 when we started. I had no idea what I was doing, and honestly, it wasn’t some grand romantic love story in the beginning. 

    What was it like then?

    Shola: I remember the first time I took her to meet my parents in the first year. My mother—God rest her soul—immediately liked her. She said Eva had a quiet strength about her, and she looked like someone who could keep a home. You know how our mothers are. 

    Eva: Shola was serious, yes, but I was still caught up in the excitement of university and hanging out with my friends. I liked him, and I thought, “Okay, maybe this could be something.” But he was traditional. I remember when he told me outright, “I’m not dating for fun. I’m with you to marry.” And I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

    Shola: You were playing hard to get, Eva.

    Eva: I wasn’t playing. I was genuinely unsure. 

    In what ways were you unsure?

    Eva: Like I said earlier, I didn’t know myself. I didn’t really understand what it meant to be a wife. I was barely 21 when we got married; I was still figuring out who I was. Shola had this clear idea of what a wife should be—supportive, nurturing, someone who could focus on the home while he focused on his career. And I tried to fit into that, but I was still a girl growing into a woman. I didn’t fully realise it until I hit my 30s and started resenting how much I’d put aside for our marriage.

    What did people around you say at the time?

    Eva: My friends thought I was crazy for even considering marriage so young. There were times when I felt like I needed to slow things down, but in our culture, especially then, you didn’t just casually date for years. I think I was pressured, not by Shola necessarily, but by society, my family, even myself. I thought marriage would bring me stability.

    Shola: My friends were a little sceptical about the age gap too, but no one really said much. Back then, it wasn’t unusual for a man my age to marry a younger woman.

    Tell me more about this courting/dating period

    Eva: It was a mix of spending time with each other’s families, and—if I’m being honest—me struggling to balance my school life and the subtle, growing expectation of marriage. 

    Shola: I knew I was already set in my career and life, but I gave her time to finish school. Looking back, maybe I should’ve given even more space. 

    Eva: I remember people always asking me when the wedding would be, even before I’d finished my final exams. It was a lot of pressure for a young woman. But I also convinced myself that I could balance both—marriage and my future. That was… naive.

    Yeah, he was set. But I wasn’t.

    When did you realise that you weren’t in fact “set”?

    Eva: I think it really hit me around my early 30s, maybe ten or 11 years into the marriage. 

    That’s when everything I’d pushed down—my dreams, the version of myself I thought I’d become—just started bubbling up. You know how, in your 20s, you feel like you have all the time in the world? I’d been so focused on being a “good wife,” raising the kids, managing the household, and supporting Shola that I didn’t stop to think about what I wanted for myself.

    Shola: I didn’t know she felt that way at the time. I thought everything was fine.

    Why?

    Shola: It just didn’t add up to me. We never talked about it either.

    Eva: That’s the thing. We were living in different worlds. You were doing well, providing for the family, and from the outside, everything looked perfect. But inside, I was drifting. 

    Weren’t you doing things too, Eva?

    Eva: I only worked for a year then the kids came back-to-back, so it made sense to leave work. Shola could afford to take care of us on his salary alone. But I soon started to feel like I didn’t get the chance to know myself outside of marriage and parenting. I was a wife, a mother, but I wasn’t *me* anymore. 

    Was there a defining moment when this dawned on you?

    Eva: If I must pick one, there was an evening maybe in 2005, when I’d just put the kids to bed, and I was sitting in the living room, scrolling through Facebook, a big deal back then. I started seeing people I knew before, who seemed to be making so much impact outside of their families. 

    And I just felt… lost. 

    Shola: I thought we had a solid marriage, a nice house, good kids, everything in order, and suddenly, Eva was talking about feeling lost? It felt like a slap in the face. I mean, I’d been working hard to provide for the family, to give us stability, and now, you’re telling me you’re not happy?

    Eva: I realised then that I wasn’t “set.” I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I’d been living according to everyone else’s expectations—my mother’s, Shola’s, even society’s—but not my own. That night, I broke down and cried. It was so random, but it was the first time I allowed myself to feel everything I’d been pushing aside for years.

    How did you respond to this revelation, Shola?

    Shola: Actually, she didn’t say anything to me at that point.

    Eva: Because I didn’t know how to. We weren’t taught to communicate like that. I didn’t even know what to say. All I knew was I felt like I was slowly disappearing. I wasn’t unhappy exactly, but I wasn’t fulfilled either.

    So how did things progress?

    Eva: It got worse when I started a baking business in 2007. On the surface, it was a success, but deep down, I knew it was plan B. I’d wanted to go back to school and get a second degree, but by then, it felt too late. I had to be practical, right? We had bills, the kids needed to go to good schools, and Shola was still climbing his career ladder. 

    So I put my dreams on the back burner.

    Shola: After she started the business and finally shared what pushed her to do it, I was confused—and, if I’m being honest, angry. Not because of the business but because of how she felt about her life at the time. I didn’t understand where all of that was coming from. 

    What was your reaction?

    Shola: I remember I said something like, “What do you mean you’re not fulfilled? You run a business, you’re raising our children, we’re not struggling, so what’s the problem?” It didn’t make sense to me at the time because, as a man, you’re taught that as long as you’re doing your part—working hard, bringing money home, keeping the family together—that’s enough. 

    I didn’t see the cracks forming because, to me, those weren’t even cracks.

    Eva: But it wasn’t just about the material things. I needed more than a roof over my head and school fees for the kids. I needed to feel like my life had meaning beyond the roles I was playing as a wife and mother. And I know that’s hard for you to understand because, in your world, those things were everything.

    Were you able to get past this?

    Shola: Honestly, no.

    In my mind, I was doing everything right. I didn’t cheat, I wasn’t the type to go out late drinking with friends. I wasn’t abusive. We had it good. So when she started talking about feeling unfulfilled, I felt like she was… ungrateful. Like she didn’t appreciate all the sacrifices I’d made for our family.

    Eva: He’d always tell me to stop comparing myself to other people, especially the women who were still chasing careers. 

    One time, he said, “Those women aren’t even in happy marriages like you are.” And I remember feeling so small because I didn’t have the words to explain that I didn’t just want a “happy marriage.” I wanted more for myself.

    Shola: I’ll admit, I was young and defensive. I started listing out everything I’d done for us—the sacrifices, the work, all of it. I was thinking, “You’re talking about finding yourself? What about finding time to appreciate me?” At the time, I saw it as a personal attack, as though I was failing as a husband.

    Eva, why do you think starting the business didn’t make it better?

    Eva: I’m not sure. Maybe the damage had already been done to my sense of self-worth and our relationship as a whole. 

    Baking was just a hobby I decided to make money off to keep myself busy. It wasn’t something I was passionate about the way he was about his investment banking, and stoked to go into the office every day like it was cocaine. That’s a major thing that triggered my emptiness, watching him for years, doing something he was deeply passionate about and getting value from it.

    Shola: It took me a while to realise marriage isn’t just about fulfilling basic roles—it’s about both partners growing together. At that point, though, I wasn’t ready to admit that maybe I wasn’t doing enough in that area.

    Eva: I needed us to connect emotionally, to feel like we were still growing together. I needed to be seen as more than just “Shola’s wife” or the mother of your children. I didn’t know how to express that properly back then, and I think that’s why things fell apart.

    Fell apart?

    Eva: I asked for a divorce towards the end of 2016. 

    The last of our kids had gone to the UK to join his siblings in college, and my sister convinced me to move so I could be a closer support system for them. It was as I considered what I needed to do to transfer my life from Nigeria to over there that I realised not much connected me to Shola any longer.

    Shola: At that point, we were civil, but we barely spoke. When we bought our house in 2012 and moved in, we took separate rooms. That was just it.

    Eva: I raised the idea of divorce with my sister, and she surprised me by validating it as a sensible next step—a fresh start. 

    Our divorce was finalised in 2018.

    So you just accepted her request for divorce, Shola?

    Shola: I didn’t see it coming, or maybe I didn’t want to see it. In Nigeria, we don’t get divorced. In my mind, no matter how bad things got, divorce wasn’t an option. You separate, you give each other space, maybe things cool off for a while, but divorce? No. 

    I remember telling her, “We don’t do this. We don’t break up families over feelings.” I was holding onto the belief that if I just stayed the course, eventually, she’d change her mind. But then she started sending papers and talking about moving to the UK.

    Eva: I didn’t make that decision lightly. I’d felt disconnected for years, and every time I tried to express it, it was like I was hitting a wall. He was so focused on what marriage looked like to the outside world that he couldn’t see what was happening inside.

    What happened when you saw she was serious, Shola?

    Shola: I was angry. Really angry. 

    I felt like she was abandoning me, like after all the years we put in, she was just throwing it all away. My friends, my family, they all told me the same thing: “Don’t sign the papers. She’ll come back to her senses.” Even my mother, God bless her, kept saying, “A woman’s place is with her husband. She’ll realise what she’s doing is wrong.” But she didn’t.

    Eva: By 2016, I knew staying in the marriage was only making me more resentful. I wasn’t being fair to you or myself. I didn’t want our kids to see us just going through the motions, pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

    How did your kids react to the news?

    Shola: The kids… well, that was probably the hardest part. They took it differently, but it was tough on all of them. Our eldest didn’t talk to me much during the process. He was closer to his mother, and I think he blamed me for everything that was going on. There was a lot of tension between us during that time.

    Eva: He’d grown up seeing us as a unit, and suddenly, we weren’t that anymore. He told me once, “Mum, why didn’t you just talk to Dad? Why didn’t you guys work it out?” And that broke my heart because he didn’t understand that it wasn’t for lack of trying. He was angry at both of us for a while.

    I can imagine

    Shola: The other two took it much worse. 

    I’ll never forget one evening, shortly after Eva had relocated with them, Kemi called me crying. She said she missed how things were, and she didn’t understand why we couldn’t just fix it. I didn’t know what to say to her because, honestly, I didn’t understand it fully either. I was still coming to terms with everything myself.

    Eva: Kemi would often say she missed her dad, but whenever Shola called or visited, she’d be distant.

    So the divorce went through? What led you back to each other then?

    Eva: It wasn’t like one of those grand epiphanies you see in movies; we just reconnected thanks to the pandemic. 

    After the divorce, we didn’t talk much except when it was about the kids. I was living in the UK, and Shola was still in Lagos. Honestly, I thought that was it. I was focused on starting over—getting my life back together, and he was doing his own thing. But COVID happened, everyone was locked in, and suddenly there was all this time and space for reflection. 

    I think it was around April 2020 when he called out of the blue. 

    Shola: I realised how much I missed Eva during the lockdown. I was home alone in Lagos, my friends were all in their houses with their families, and I didn’t have the kids around for company. It was just me and my thoughts, and I kept thinking about her. Not as my ex-wife, but as someone who’d been a huge part of my life for so long. 

    The more I thought about it, the more I realised a lot of our issues had come from not really talking. I was always so focused on my job and friends, I didn’t listen to her enough.

    [ad]

    What was said during this call?

    Eva: I remember feeling irritated at first. Like, “What does he want now?” But the conversation wasn’t about logistics or the kids—it was just… us. We talked for hours that night. It was so strange because, after years of bitterness, anger, and silence, there was this sudden openness. I won’t say I forgave everything right away, but we started talking regularly. It became a thing. I’d look forward to his calls.

    Shola: The first call… I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it was easier than I thought. We laughed about old times. We didn’t jump straight back into a romantic relationship; that would’ve been impossible. We had a lot of issues to sort through, a lot of resentment to unpack.

    Did you figure out exactly what?

    Eva: Yes. Like how I felt unsupported, or how he felt like I’d changed after the kids came.

    It was hard at first because Shola has never been one to openly express his emotions. He’s the typical Yoruba man—everything is done in silence, with pride. But during those lockdown conversations, he was more vulnerable than I’d ever heard him before. He admitted to things I thought he’d never acknowledge, like how he wished he’d done more when I was trying to balance school, the kids, and the bakery. That meant a lot to me.

    How did you sustain this new energy after the pandemic eased up?

    Eva: When the world opened up again, I didn’t just pack my bags and move back. We visited each other a few times in 2021, and it felt nice, like we were rebuilding something that’d been lost. Suddenly, I felt this pang of “divorce regret” that wouldn’t go away. It kept reminding me that he didn’t do anything wrong; I only needed to find myself outside him, and now, I had.

    When I finally moved back to Nigeria in 2022, we decided to take things slow. We started dating again. I honestly don’t know how that happened. We went out, spent time with family. I think what really helped was that we no longer had the pressure of the kids living with us. They were in the UK, and we could just focus on each other.

    Shola: The truth is I’d never given up on our marriage. Divorce was just a formality; I’d never stop seeing her as my wife. 

    We just learnt how to talk about the things we avoided before. It wasn’t about assigning blame anymore, but about acknowledging how we both failed each other and figuring out how not to make those same mistakes.

    When did the idea of a remarriage come up?

    Shola: During the Christmas holiday of 2022, I felt she was ready. 

    I hosted a group of friends for dinner, and she was the last to leave, so I just asked her, “Should we do this again?” She smiled, and it was amazing how she immediately knew what I meant. That was it. We remarried quietly in a church service in early 2023. No big fanfare, just family and close friends.

    Eva: We needed to know we’d both grown enough to give it another shot. Now, it’s not about trying to be the perfect couple, but about being better than we were before. We communicate more, and we’ve learnt to respect each other’s individuality.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life now?

    Eva: I’d say a solid 7. I know that might sound low to some people, especially after all we’ve been through. But marriage—especially the second time around—isn’t about perfection for me anymore.Shola: For me, 8. I agree with Eva, but we’re in a much better and easier place than we were during our first marriage.

  • Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.


    Nairalife #288 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    That was in 2010. I didn’t really understand what money could do and how it felt to earn it before that time.  

    What changed?

    So, I was in my second year and my uni was organising a rag day — it’s an event where students dress funny and go out to make money. I didn’t participate because it wasn’t my thing, but I helped a friend with their costume and jokingly requested a percentage of whatever money was made. 

    My friend got a lot of money almost as quickly as they went outside. When my other colleagues saw that, they rushed to me and asked me to help with their costumes. After the whole thing, they returned and gave me a cut of their earnings — ₦2k here, ₦1k there. I don’t remember exactly how much I made, but it was cool cash for simply exploring my creativity.

    It was also the first time I held money that hadn’t passed through my parents’ strict approval process for financial matters.

    Tell me about your parents

    My parents were teachers and were very strict. They believed that letting children have money could lead them to vices. They were right, sha. In secondary school, I had friends who gambled among each other, but I couldn’t join because I didn’t even have as little as ₦5 on me — my siblings and I took lunch to school, so there was no reason to handle money. 

    Also, if a family member gave me money, I was meant to immediately hand it over to my parents, who decided what to do with it. If my mum saw a pencil she didn’t buy in my bag, all hell would let loose.

    I can trace my lack of a savings culture to my upbringing. Imagine me trying to save as a child. With which money? Even if I miraculously found money, how was I supposed to explain keeping it? My parents controlled everything in our house, which followed me until that point in university when I finally did something independently. 

    Did you try something else to make money after that?

    Yes. But I just pursued a passion and ended up getting paid for it. I loved organising tutorials for colleagues in uni, and one time in my third year, a friend asked if I could cover for her at work because she was writing exams.

    She worked at a company that connected tutors to parents who wanted after-school lessons for their kids. So, while my friend was away, I tutored her client’s kid. When she returned after two weeks, the child’s parents called the company and asked to retain me for their child while my friend taught someone else.

    They liked you that much?

    Apparently, they did. The company employed me and paid me ₦20k/month to teach the child thrice a week. About a month later, I got a different gig through a senior colleague to teach maths and physics to someone preparing for WAEC. 

    Then, I got another referral from the same senior colleague. I juggled the three clients until my final year and made about ₦70k/month from all of them. In my final year, I had to scale back down to one client —the one paying ₦20k — because I wanted to focus on my studies and pass well. I’d been an unserious student for most of uni, and final year was my last chance.

    Thankfully, I graduated with good grades and held the job for a few more months until I landed a new one in 2013. The new job was in health and safety, which aligned with what I studied in school, so I dropped the teaching gig to focus on my new role.

    Was the pay better?

    Haha. My salary was ₦5k/month. It was a serious pay cut, but I wanted professional experience. I lived with some friends and didn’t have to worry about rent. The ₦5k covered my transportation for only 2-3 weeks, and I had to rely on my friends for transport fare.

    I supplemented my salary with occasional tutoring gigs — I got one in 2014 that paid ₦60k/week for a two-month period. 

    Fortunately, I landed a similar role at a non-profit in 2016. My starting salary was ₦60k/month, but it got up to about ₦100k after transportation allowance and other incentives.

    A welcome relief from ₦5k/month, I imagine

    It was. However, my lifestyle didn’t change much. I had free accommodation courtesy of my job. I’m not social, and I’d grown used to living on very little income, so there was almost nothing for me to spend on.

    That said, I began giving out money. I like helping people, and since I wasn’t doing anything with money, I was using it to meet people’s needs — especially friends and family. If someone complained about a need on WhatsApp, I’d DM them and send them money.

    About six months into the job, my salary increased to ₦80k. My need to travel for official duty also increased, and the allowances from travelling and field work brought my monthly income to ₦200k.

    Did you consider savings or investments?

    I didn’t grow up with a savings culture, so it wasn’t the first thing that came to my head. So, even though I was earning more than I ever had, I was always broke before month’s end.

    In 2017, my mum noticed my terrible spending habits. She’d asked me for ₦50k, and I ended up sending ₦100k. She also learned from my siblings that I always gave extra money whenever they asked, so she called and told me it was time for me to learn how to save for a rainy day.

    My mum opened a cooperative account in my name and asked me to decide on a monthly deposit I was comfortable with. I decided on ₦100k, and from then, I just sent the money to her monthly to help me save it. 

    I didn’t have access to it and had no desire to keep track of whatever I sent to her. My own was: They’ve told me it’s good to keep money, so let me just keep it. I didn’t have a goal.

    I’m screaming

    I worked at the non-profit till 2019, and my income grew to about ₦400k/month before I left.

    Around the same time, my mum suggested I invest my cooperative savings in a landed property. Honestly, I was fine with just keeping it, but she advised against saving indefinitely. 

    So, I used most of the money — about ₦3m — to buy seven acres of land. The first day I stood on the land, I thought, “Hey, maybe investments aren’t so bad.” Like, I couldn’t see the end of the entire property, and it was all mine.

    I farmed plantains on the land for about two years and made some profit, but I stopped because I struggled to juggle it with other responsibilities. Plus, I didn’t buy the land to farm. The goal is to build an estate on it someday. 

    I was just about to ask if you left the non-profit for farming 

    I left because I wanted to get a master’s degree, but my workplace didn’t let me. I even suggested a part-time study program, but they were against it. I decided that it was better to upskill than hold on to a job that could kick me to the curb, so I resigned and became a freelance consultant. I also stopped saving with the cooperative since I no longer had a consistent income.

    Did you have a plan for school expenses with an inconsistent income?

    I have contacts in the non-profit sector. I knew I’d still get something every other month. The only thing was, I couldn’t predict what my income would be. With consulting, you can make ₦200k today and ₦2m tomorrow. 

    I planned to freelance for only two years. After my master’s program, I’d re-strategise and return to an office job. Unfortunately, the pandemic happened and disrupted my academic calendar. Even after schools reopened, ASUU went on an eight-month strike, essentially wasting the whole of 2022. 

    I finished the program this year, so I’ve been a freelance consultant for longer than I planned. Fortunately, I get consulting gigs fairly regularly, so I survive. I also got married in 2021, and while that has increased my responsibilities, it’s also helped me manage the reality of having an inconsistent income.

    How so?

    We’ve already established I’m a spontaneous giver. I can’t stand seeing people in need and looking away. I could get away with that on a monthly salary, but consulting is different. If I make ₦1.2m today, I can’t just blow it because I don’t know if I’ll earn anything for the next few months.

    It requires extensive financial planning, which isn’t my strength. After I got married, my wife and I decided it was best that she controlled my finances, and we’ve stuck with that. I don’t have access to my accounts or know how much I’m worth, and it works well for us.

    Also, I believe that men having extramarital affairs is directly proportional to them having money. With the way I spend, I know having money might be a tempting factor to go that route, and I don’t want it. There’s no way to have a woman on the side if you don’t have a kobo to your name, and I’m fine with that.

    I’m curious. How does the financial arrangement with your wife work?

    My wife has all my bank apps on her phone, and she also receives the SMS alerts. I don’t get alerts, and I don’t have an ATM card either. I have zero access to my funds. Whenever I get paid for a job, she’s the one who tells me that money has entered my account.

    She allocates the funds to whatever need we have at the moment. She also ensures there’s still money to run the home and attend to family emergencies in the months I don’t earn anything. She even buys me clothes or whatever she thinks I need. If I need money to repair the car, for instance, I call her, and she transfers money to the mechanic. 

    So, you don’t hold cash at all?

    Nope. Sometimes, my wife puts money in one of the ATM cards if I want to buy something. But it’s always the exact amount because we both know I can still dash the extra cash to a random groundnut seller on the road.

    I should mention that no one knows about my wife controlling my finances — not even my family. I know people would think it strange, so we keep it to ourselves. 

    Have there been any challenges with this arrangement?

    The only challenge is that it’s quite difficult to make a transaction my wife disapproves of. For instance, I could ask her to transfer ₦150k to someone who needs a new phone. 

    Of course, she’ll query it, and if she doesn’t think the reason is good enough, she tells me we can’t do it or suggests a smaller amount. Sometimes, I try to defend my reason. Other times, I don’t push it. 

    I’d like to know how someone like you thinks about money

    Money provides one of the easiest means to help people. I hate seeing people in need and looking away. 

    Right now, I’m looking forward to bigger consulting jobs and businesses, and it’s majorly because I want to be able to confidently ask my wife to increase our giving budget. 

    At least I’ve accepted that I’m a reckless spender, and I don’t mind that my spending is on those who need help.

    So, how do you move money around these days?

    I work from home most days, and with my wife handling the majority of the household’s needs, my spending oversight is limited to fueling the car, electricity, and monthly allowances.

    Let me break it down:

    Nairalife #288 monthly expenses

    Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

    Solar electricity to increase my efficiency. My house is also my office, and the epileptic power situation in Nigeria is so crazy. The last time I checked, I’d need about ₦1m for a small solar system to power my office. To power the entire building, I’d need about ₦4m. According to my wife, we can’t afford either right now. 

    What was the last thing you bought that significantly improved your quality of life?

    My laptop, which I bought for about ₦1.4m earlier this year. It comes with a smart pen, and for someone like me who does a lot of pitching, it’s so easy to pictorially represent a concept or solution I’m trying to proffer to clients. The laptop just has a lot of crazy features that make brainstorming seamless.

    Is there anything you’d like to be better at financially?

    I’m currently working on diversifying my income, considering that Nigeria’s economy isn’t smiling anymore. I can put on many hats, and I just need to figure out which skill I can utilise to get another income source to stabilise my finances. 

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

    I’d like to split that into two: income and spending. My income rating is 5 because I still need to get more income sources. 

    My spending rating is 2 because of my poor spending habits. I’ll rate it higher when I learn how to handle my spontaneous spending, or better still, earn enough so I can spend spontaneously and not feel it.


    If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

    Subscribe to the newsletter here.

    [ad]

  • When Dami* got married, the last thing he expected to threaten his marriage was a crush on another woman. But it happened.

    The 44-year-old shares how he almost lost his 10-year marriage and the steps he’s now taking to ensure he’s never in that situation again.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image created by Canva AI

    When my wife, Nike*, and I married in 2006, I thought I knew everything necessary for a long, healthy and loving marriage. 

    I don’t say that out of pride; I actually put in the work to ensure we lived happily ever after. Years before I met Nike in 2004, I’d started reading marriage books and praying for my lifetime partner. I attended seminars and relationship workshops and listened to sermons about marriage.

    I did all that because I knew my marriage would be a big part of my life and ministry. Born to parents who are both pastors, I caught my ministerial calling early, and all my life, I’ve seen just how big a role spouses play in the ministry. I saw it with my mum, senior friends and the pastors I admired. 

    For the Christian in ministry, there’s a limit to how much you can do if you don’t have a happy home. You can’t be preaching everywhere if you’re keeping malice with your spouse or they aren’t happy with you. Or worse, getting married to someone who doesn’t understand why you have to be preaching up and down. So, it was important for me to get it right in marriage. 

    I met Nike in church. A mutual friend introduced us, and we hit it off. She was funny, beautiful, and loved God. We also had the same values. It took only two weeks of us talking consistently for me to know in my heart that she was the one for me. Of course, I still had to pray and wait for her to be convinced. But getting her answer didn’t take long, and our two-year courtship went smoothly.

    It’s not like I thought we’d never have issues after marriage. I knew — and even expected minor disagreements about where to press the toothpaste from and forgetting to buy bread when returning home. But there was no room for things like infidelity, lies or anything that could betray trust. And most importantly, no divorce. 

    It worked out well in the beginning. However, I quickly realised that even minor disagreements could turn into huge fights. There was one argument about soup that turned into a two-day malice competition. See ehn, in marriage, your theoretical knowledge has to bow down for reality. But we still worked through the frictions and were mostly happy and healthy.

    However, we hit a slump as we approached our tenth year of marriage. Nike resumed work after taking a five-year career break to have our children. I was hardly home because I’d been transferred to a different state to head a new church. 

    Nike couldn’t join me immediately because she just started work, and we thought she needed to get some work experience before entering the job market again. So, we only saw each other once or twice a month.

    That’s where the problem started. I always considered myself immune to being interested in other women. Aside from the fact that I absolutely love my wife and don’t want anything to threaten my home, I also fear God and the institution of marriage.

    Maybe it’d have been better if I’d admitted to myself that I wasn’t Superman. It might’ve saved all the wahala I brought on myself.

    Soon after moving to the new state, I found myself keeping late hours more than I did back home. My work at the church was mainly during the day, and I had more free time at night. I’ve always been a night owl, so I passed the time by watching movies, listening to messages or chatting with my wife. The chatting part didn’t always work because my wife was usually exhausted from working and dealing with our kids all day.

    That’s how my situation with Gloria* started. Gloria was a former secondary school classmate who found me on Facebook during this period, and we started talking regularly. At first, I was just excited to catch up with someone from secondary school. We swapped stories about our wicked teachers and what our other classmates were up to. It was harmless fun. I even told my wife about her.

    I honestly don’t know how it changed from random catching up to daily conversations, but Gloria and I soon started chatting all night. We had a lot in common, and she was really funny. I began to look forward to talking to her.

    We even moved to video calls. I liked having someone to share my day with and discuss different things. I realised it was developing into a crush when I no longer wanted to tell my wife when I talked to Gloria. I really, really liked talking to her. But I thought I could still handle it. After all, we weren’t seeing each other physically. Nothing would happen.

    Things got a little heated three months into my crush/friendship with Gloria. She’d joked that night about the heat but being unable to dress lighter because she had a phobia of thieves breaking into her house while she was underdressed. I jokingly asked her to send a picture so I could advise her, and she sent a picture of herself wearing an almost transparent nightgown. 

    I stupidly responded, “Wow. You look amazing.” Alarms went off in my head, and I abruptly ended the conversation. But to be honest, I had illicit thoughts about Gloria that night.

    I decided there and then to stop the constant chatting to avoid things going in the wrong direction. But unfortunately for me, my wife came to visit two days later. I planned to come clean and discuss my crush with her, but she found the chats on my phone before I mentioned anything. Gloria had sent another picture — fully clothed this time — and my wife saw the message come in. I’ve never had a password on my phone, so she also saw the nightgown picture and the multiple messages.

    Of course, it turned into a big issue. Nike was convinced I’d probably deleted some messages and that I was cheating. She even threatened to leave. It took the intervention of my parents and some of our mentors in church before she could forgive me. 

    Even after that, we had to do two months of counselling before our relationship returned to fairly normal. It took even longer for me to build the trust again and assure her I’d be completely honest from the start if such ever happened again. I can’t believe I even let a stupid crush almost destroy everything I’d built with my wife.

    That was almost 8 years ago. Since then, I’ve had no other crush, but I now understand the importance of talking about it and not even giving the crush a chance to grow in the first place. 

    Once I notice my communication with one lady is becoming too long or she keeps insisting she wants to meet me for “personal counselling,” I send her straight to my wife. If she can’t share her problem with my wife, I don’t want to hear it.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: My Parents Separated After 25 Years of Marriage. I Wish It Happened Earlier

    [ad]

  • Tokunbo’s* first marriage began to crash barely a year after the wedding due to infidelity and constant arguments. He married his current wife while processing his divorce in 2017 and thought he’d finally found a shot at happiness. 

    Seven years later, he’s struggling with regret and hopes to reunite with his first wife.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image source: Freepik

    I married my first wife, Yetunde* when I was 27 years old, but I’d loved her since I was 10. 

    We were childhood friends. Actually, she was my childhood bully. We lived in the same estate and we met when my dad bought me a bicycle as a reward for getting the first position in JSS 1. I rode the bike to the farthest part of my street that day, and as expected with children, other boys came up to me and asked me to let them ride for a bit. 

    I allowed a few boys, and Yetunde came to ask for a turn, too. I refused — not because she was a girl, though. I had a very small stature growing up, and Yetunde, who is two years older than me, was taller and generally bigger than me. I was scared she wouldn’t return my bicycle. She thought I was just being mean and forcefully dragged the bicycle from me. She did return it later, but we became sworn enemies after that day.

    Like I said, we lived in the same estate, so we always ran into each other. Whenever Yetunde saw me, she either mocked me by calling me “Stingy koko” or knocked down whatever was in my hands. I’m not even sure how we later became friends. I just know I reported her to my elder sister, and she made her stop bothering me. We became inseparable, and I thought she was the prettiest girl ever.

    We started dating in SS 3 and tried continuing in university, but we schooled in different states, and our love didn’t survive the distance. We only communicated occasionally via Facebook and only saw each other thrice over the next nine years. We always had a one-night stand kind of “reunion” each time we saw. One of these reunions led to Yetunde getting pregnant in 2014.

    The pregnancy came with serious issues for both our families. Yetunde’s family insisted we had to marry because it was taboo in their village to give birth outside wedlock. My own family said she was older and physically bigger than me, and that meant she’d control me in the house. In the end, Yetunde and I felt we still had feelings for each other, so we married.

    It’s safe to say both of us didn’t know what to expect in marriage. We didn’t even really know each other. We’d loved each other as kids and were attracted to each other sexually, but that was about it. Living together opened our eyes to the fact that it took more than childhood love and sex to keep a home.

    We fought over the smallest things. I remember how we kept malice with each other for three days because I farted in the sitting room, and it led to a huge fight. Parenting strained our relationship even more. I spent long hours at work, and Yetunde expected me to take over the baby’s needs once I returned because she’d done it all day. But I didn’t think it made sense for me to come home tired at night to start babysitting. 

    Yetunde resented me for that, and we fought endlessly. We also stopped having sex after our child was born. She just stopped letting me touch her. This was barely a year after marriage.

    So, I started cheating. I know I should’ve put in more effort to solve our issues, but I took the easy way out. It was just casual sex, honestly. There was this babe at work who I knew liked me. We got closer when Yetunde and I stopped being intimate, and things just got out of control. 

    Yetunde found out six months later after going through our chats. She threatened to leave, and I begged for weeks. She only agreed to forgive me if I tested for STDs. I did the test and came back clean, but she said we’d still have to abstain from sex for three months so she could confirm I didn’t have HIV.

    I was annoyed at that. It was like she thought I was a child who didn’t know how to protect himself. I still did the test again after three months, but I decided I wouldn’t approach her for sex again. If she really forgave me, she should also make the first move. She didn’t make any move. 

    I couldn’t cope, so I went back to having affairs. I think Yetunde knew, but she never confronted me again. We grew apart even more, and our conversations reduced to ordinary greetings or if she needed to ask me for something our child needed. I still sent her monthly allowances to care for the home as she wasn’t working. I wasn’t completely irresponsible.

    In 2017, I met the woman I’m currently married to — Comfort*. I initially intended to keep her as a girlfriend, but I fell in love with her and stopped seeing other women. Comfort didn’t know I was married.

    By now, I was tired of my marriage with Yetunde. I came up with every excuse possible to convince myself we weren’t meant to be together. I thought, if she hadn’t fallen pregnant, I wouldn’t even have had to marry her. Did I have to resign myself to a sexless, loveless marriage just because of one mistake?


    RELATED: I’m Asexual Or Just Not Attracted To My Husband


    I decided to put myself first, so I told Yetunde I wanted a divorce. Surprisingly, she didn’t argue. She just said she wouldn’t move out of the apartment, and I had to keep paying the rent. She also said she’d never give up custody of our child, which was more than fine with me.

    So, that same year, I married Comfort. I had to convince her we didn’t need a court wedding because I was still in the middle of divorce proceedings (which she didn’t know), and I heard I could face jail if I tried to remarry legally while still married. We even did the traditional marriage quietly because I didn’t want Yetunde to know and probably tell the court. My family knew about my issues with Yetunde, so it wasn’t difficult telling them of my choice to remarry and keep the whole thing quiet. 

    I only told Comfort after the court finalised the divorce in 2019. She was angry, but my family joined me to apologise to her, and all went well. I also tried to introduce her to my child, but Yetunde relocated out of the country with her. 

    I’m still shocked that she didn’t tell me beforehand. If I hadn’t texted her to inform her of my marriage and ask to see my child, she probably wouldn’t have told me they’d left. I mean, I still paid the child’s school fees for the previous term, so it wasn’t like I wasn’t doing my part. I wanted to drag the issue out, but I just told myself it was for my child’s benefit. 

    In my head, I was finally getting a new shot at happiness. I’d tried marriage, and it didn’t work out, but I had a second chance. I was also on civil terms with my ex and didn’t need to hide anything from Comfort again. I could now be happy without feeling guilty or thinking of another woman outside.

    And I was happy. Comfort even encouraged me to attend church more, and I gave my life to Christ in 2021. Since then, I’ve been serious with God and feel like a new person. But I’m now navigating a new kind of guilt: regret over divorcing Yetunde.

    I listened to a sermon in 2022 about how God hates divorce, and since then, I’ve been struggling with feeling like I made a grave mistake. The Bible says, “Whoever divorces his wife and remarries has committed adultery — except the wife was unfaithful”. Yetunde wasn’t unfaithful. She didn’t even do anything to me.

    No matter how I try to reason it in my head, I feel like I’m constantly living in sin by staying married to Comfort. It’s even affecting my walk with God. I feel like I call myself a Christian, but I’ll still go to hell because of this one mistake. I’ve never discussed this with Comfort.

    Some church elders I’ve spoken to about my concerns have suggested reconciling with Yetunde and probably letting Comfort go since we don’t have children together yet. But first, I don’t even know if Yetunde wants to come back. I know she isn’t married, but she might not want to have anything to do with me again. Second, what do I tell Comfort and our families?

    I wish I’d made better decisions and generally been a better person, but I can’t turn back the hands of time. I just know I need to make a final decision soon because I can’t continue living like this. Comfort already thinks I’m cheating because I’m constantly acting distant. Maybe I’ll gather the courage to beg Yetunde and hope she forgives me and returns. Or maybe I should just let Comfort go and live alone for the rest of my life. I don’t know.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: My Husband’s Family Has Attacked Me Spiritually for Years

    [ad]

  • A Nollywood actress’ recent comments about wishing she’d married for money instead of love has woken social media debaters from their slumber and inspired another version of the age-old conversation topic: Should you marry for love or money?

    I spoke to married Nigerians, and they talked about marrying for either love or money and what they’d do differently if they could have a do-over.

    Gbemi, 51

    I married for love, but I won’t advise any young woman to do the same. My husband isn’t a bad man, and I’m not suffering, but I have a reason for my answer.

    When I married my husband, he was unemployed and only had foam in his bedroom—no bed or mattress—just foam to sleep on. If you mistakenly slept on that foam without a bedsheet, you’d have to spend hours removing foam from your hair. But I loved him, and he was kind to me. I also had a job, and we planned to use my salary to build a school as our family business.

    It worked out for us, but only because my husband is a rare breed. For over six years, I brought most of the money, and he never acted out. He never talked even when I did my normal woman wahala and spent money on unnecessary things. He neither asked me for money nor tried to police what I used money for. I dropped it at home by myself because of our school plan.

    Men of these days can’t do that. I can’t count the number of family issues I’ve helped solve that’s rooted in the woman earning more. Don’t say your own man can’t do it. Marry someone with money, please. Marriage is already stressful without adding money and the stress of managing someone’s ego to it. If I didn’t get married to my husband, I most likely wouldn’t have married a poor man.

    Obinna, 43

    I didn’t even marry for either love or money. I got married to my partner because my parents knew her family and recommended her. I don’t have any regrets. She’s made my house a home and is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve been married for over 10 years, and that’s love if you ask me. If I had the opportunity again, I’d still allow my parents to pick for me. 

    Rola, 29

    I married for both love and money by making sure to find love where the money was. I understand that money is vital in building a home and removing unnecessary stress, so poverty was a deal-breaker for me when I was single. I don’t have much in common with broke men, so where did they even want to find me? I make good money and expect the same from a romantic partner. That’ll always be my standard.

    Justina, 40

    I married quite young for love, and while I’m grateful that my husband and I are fairly financially comfortable now, it wasn’t always like that. There were years of struggle that affected the love. Of course, you can’t be thinking about love when landlord is threatening to throw you out over unpaid rent, or when you’re doing 001 and eating once a day so your kids can eat. 

    Fortunately, we stayed together through those years, but I don’t think we’re as close as before. We lost that connection while struggling to make ends meet. If I had the opportunity to do it all over again, I’d have waited for us to make money first before getting married and raising children.

    Femi, 34

    Do Nigerian men really have the option to marry for money? I don’t think it’s as common for us. I married my wife because I love her. Whether she brings in money or not isn’t really my business because I’m meant to provide for her and my family. That’s not to say it doesn’t get difficult. I’ve been married for five years, and sometimes, I want to run away from all my financial responsibilities. If it’s not house rent, it’s fuel or the children or even extended family. Maybe if I had another opportunity, I’d find a way to hook Dangote’s daughter so that I, too, can enjoy.

    Yemi, 31

    I married for love and peace of mind. Money isn’t everything. My husband and I don’t have it all, but at least we’re together. I’ve heard stories of richer couples who eventually divorced or are battling one problem or the other. I’ll advise anyone to consider peace of mind and whether they can stay happy with that person for years over how much is in their account. Money can disappear overnight, but marriage is a lifetime thing. Will you end the marriage because there’s no money again?


    NEXT READ: I Blame My Rich Parents for My Lack of Ambition

    [ad]

  • If you’ve been on X (FKA Twitter) in the last 48 hours, you’d have seen a range of responses to a user’s question “What’s your first reality check after getting married?”

    I was looking to speak with married people to share their experiences when I found Gbemisola*(30). She talks about her struggle with conflict resolution and how being married now forces her to confront issues head on.

    As Told to Adeyinka

    I’ve been married for two years now, and it’s been a personal learning curve. The things you have to stomach for the sake of love? God, abeg.

    I met my husband in university in 2015. We were in the same department but different years, so we saw ourselves a lot in school. But being around each other didn’t stop at that.

    After we became official, I started spending more time at his hostel — I enjoyed his company and I didn’t even like my hostel. I had nosy roommates and privacy was completely out the window. The few times he visited, I had to talk my roommates into giving us some privacy, and I didn’t like that.

    Because of my roommates’ situation, it made more sense to spend time at his place. I eventually moved to his hostel completely and only went to my hostel when I needed a change of clothes.

    It was sweet in the early stages. We both did most of the cooking, watched movies together, read together and went to school together on days when we had similar schedules. Then, about six months into the relationship, the fights started to happen, showing me a version of myself I wasn’t aware of.

    It’s hard to remember the details now, but our first fight was over something so insignificant. We’d gotten into an argument over school work, and I didn’t like the way he went about proving my argument was wrong. I felt like he wanted a “gotcha” moment at my expense. I kept to myself for the rest of the evening, even though he kept bothering me. The first thing I did the following morning was to pack some of my clothes and return to my hostel. While I was away, he kept asking why I left because of a little argument. But I stayed in my hostel for two weeks.

    [ad]

    As our relationship went by,”running away” became my approach to conflict resolution. If we had any fight, I was out of his space that day or the next, and I made it a point not to return until weeks had passed. He hated this so much. He was always like “You can’t just up and leave because we have issues. Is this how you’ll do when we get married?” And my response to him was always “Well, we aren’t married, are we?”

    I remember a similar incident that happened while I was serving in Lagos. At the time, I switched between his place and my sister’s. One day, we had a fight, and in my usual pattern, I kept to myself. By the next morning I picked out clothes from the wardrobe and prepared to head over to my sister’s. He noticed me packing my stuff  and he just said “If you’re leaving because of our fight, I won’t stop you. But just know that if you walk out of that door, you’re walking out of my life and I won’t stop you.”

    It was the first time he reacted that way, so a part of me shuddered at the thought of “walking out of his life”. Obviously, the stubborn girl that I am, I didn’t concede. Instead, I lied and told him I only wanted to drop off some clothes at my sisters and I’ll be back at night.

    I don’t know why but that experience — his words particularly — stayed in my head for a long time and haunted me whenever I wrestled with the urge to leave his place after a fight.

    Now, what did I do?

    I started spacing the time I left. Instead of leaving the next day after a fight, I’d tell him I’m heading home in a couple of days. We both knew why my visit home was happening at that particular time, but we never talked about it.

    Fast forward to 2022, we tied the knot and officially became husband and wife. People have all sorts of worries going into marriage — Who handles the bills, who cooks, who should take care of the chores, etc. But for someone like me, whose coping mechanism during conflict was taking off, my only fear was the realisation that I couldn’t just take off as I wanted anymore.

    It didn’t help that my parents, relatives, and other older folks made it a point to drum it into my ears. “You can’t run away from your husband’s house o. If you have issues, stay there with him until you resolve it”.

    We barely had issues in the first year of our marriage. Everything worked perfectly, and there were hardly any major fights. Yes, we had minor arguments, but nothing serious enough to warrant my desire to flee.

    Then we had our first big fight in the second year. It was money related. After we got married, we decided to save together without necessarily opening a joint account, and we agreed to save a minimum of ₦50k monthly. It could be more, but never less.

    By the second year, we had saved quite a sum and I wanted some gadgets for the kitchen. My husband felt we should wait until we hit our savings goals, but I told him the items were on sale and it made sense to take the deal. He remained adamant, but I went ahead to make the purchase anyway. He was furious on the day the items were delivered and we had a little shouting match.

    I was livid that night and wanted so badly to be away from him. I think I considered going to an overnight cinema just to be out of the house, but I couldn’t find any. We ignored each other for the rest of the day, and I cried myself to sleep that night. To be honest, it wasn’t the fight that made me cry. I mean, it wasn’t the first time we fought. It was the realisation that I couldn’t up and leave like I did when we were dating.

    I suspected he also knew I couldn’t just leave if I wanted, and it slowed his eagerness to apologise. Back when we were dating, I’d have gotten calls and texts from him after I moved out, but in this case, he took his time before apologising.

    To be honest, it’s a trope we’re both navigating and it hasn’t been an easy one.

    Now, we are both intentional about finding ways to solve our issues as quickly as possible without the silent treatment or one person feeling like a prisoner in their home.  The truth is, I love my husband, and I miss him terribly every second I’m away from him during a fight or an argument. I know he feels the same way.

    READ NEXT: We Got Married So We Can Be Gay in Peace