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


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    NairaLife #341 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    Money was a big part of my childhood. My mum’s a hairdresser, and growing up, my siblings and I spent our extra time at her shop. At the end of the day, we’d organise my mum’s money from the smallest to the highest denomination.

    My mum also sold hair products and drinks at her shop. She always told us how much she bought and resold each item, so I understood how money worked pretty early. I knew I had to add a particular percentage to items before reselling to make a profit, and to only calculate the profit as the money I made. 

    I applied that same knowledge to my first money-making attempt, when I sold beads at 10 years old. 

    10 years old? 

    My dad made sure his kids learned multiple skills early. He’s a well-to-do data engineer, but it was never a “My dad has money, so I’m okay” situation. He’d always tell us, “My money is my money. Learn skills so you can make your own money.” 

    I remember one time I sold a lot of red bracelets during Valentine’s season in school. Then I needed to buy a textbook, so I asked my dad for money. He was like, “Aren’t you making money? Use your money.” It didn’t make sense to me. In my head, my parents’ money should attend to my needs, while my money should go into my savings. But my dad thought differently. That’s the kind of person he is.

    Hmmm

    Anyway, back to my skills. I learnt a bunch of them. At 10, I learnt how to work with beads, which I made into bracelets and sold to my classmates. I can’t even remember how much I sold them. In JSS 2, I upgraded my skills to include wirework jewellery. 

    Then, in uni, I attended a two-month goldsmith training course. I’ve always loved jewellery, so I guess I followed the natural order and acquired skills related to it. 

    Did you try to make money from jewellery in uni?

    Interestingly, I didn’t actively try to sell jewellery in uni. I may have made a few pieces, but I focused on and made a lot more from fitness.

    Let me break it down. In 2019, I was in 200 level and very broke. My ₦20k monthly allowance barely covered my food, data and textbooks, so I felt like a poor church rat. 

    It was so bad that I literally counted how many pure water sachets would take me till the end of the month and planned around the number. Whenever my best friend came to my hostel and drank water, I’d get destabilised because it’d throw my entire ration off and trigger my anxiety.

    For context, I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety and depression for years. I had my first mental breakdown after secondary school because I had to wait seven months at home. I graduated at 15, a year younger than the minimum age requirement for uni, so I had to wait and then get into a diploma program before I could get into uni. 

    So, when I started feeling the same way again, I saw a doctor, and at the first appointment, he said, “I know you suffer from anxiety and depression, but your biggest problem now is your finances. If you can earn more now, half your problems would go away.” He told me to think of something I could teach people to make money, and I picked fitness. 

    Were you already a fitness enthusiast at the time?

    I’d picked it up after my mental breakdown. The doctor advised me to get into something, and I decided to try exercise. Plus, it was a way to lose weight. After a while, I tried a fitness trainer but wasn’t satisfied with the process. 

    It didn’t make sense to me why a trainer would tell me to squat, and when I asked why they added squats to my routine, they’d be like, “Why are you asking? I’m the professional here.” I’m someone who likes to know why I’m asked to do stuff, so I ditched the trainer and became best friends with Google. 

    I did my own research and learnt everything I needed about building muscles, training people, and even exercises to avoid when you have injuries or how to modify exercises based on different medical conditions.

    So when the time came to pick a skill I could monetise, fitness was the easiest option. I already had a pretty good idea of what I was doing. 

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    How did monetisation work?

    I started with one person. One thing I’ve learned from business is, you see extroverts? Hold them tight. My first client was an extrovert, and I charged her ₦5k for a month. My uni had a gym, so we’d both go there, and I’d show her exercises to do. 

    When my client’s friends started seeing results, they asked her, and she told them I was her trainer. That’s how I got more clients. I charged between ₦5k and ₦7k for a month, then I’d make the clients register at the gym I used so we could both attend and train. Some clients preferred morning sessions, while others preferred evening. I only had to be there whenever they were at the gym. 

    I had about seven regular clients, and it was my major source of income until I got to 400 level and added hairdressing and locs to my hustle.

    Tell me about that

    I started hairdressing by chance. I knew how to do it because that’s my mum’s job, but I grew up in an area where my mum would do hair for six hours and make ₦1500 or ₦2k. She was even one of the most expensive hairdressers. It felt like a lot of work for little money, so I never planned to do it.

    Then, one day, a friend randomly posted a hairstyle on her WhatsApp status, asking for people who could do it. I told her I could, and she became my first client. It was a very complicated, niche hairstyle, and I think she paid me ₦17k or ₦20k. 

    Remember what I said about extroverts? This friend was an extrovert, and she brought me three more clients. And those ones also brought more people. That’s how I kept getting customers. At one point, I did my best friend’s hair, and it went viral on TikTok. That hairstyle brought me so many customers.

    I also started getting requests from people who wanted to install locs. In my final year, I comfortably made between ₦50k and ₦100k/month from hairdressing and fitness training.

    Did you have to learn how to install locs?

    Yes and no. There are about three installation methods for locs; I already knew two and learnt the third one on YouTube. 

    Some context: I wanted to install my locs in 2022, but locticians charged ₦50k. That was big money for me, so I learnt how to do it, taught my mum, then had her install my locs for me.

    I respect the dedication to not paying a dime. Did you continue both hustles after uni?

    Yes, I did. Instead of returning home after graduating in 2023, I rented a ₦20k/month hostel around school and continued my work. Managing both gigs was pretty seamless. I could do hair in the morning and then go to the gym in the evening.  I just made the appointments work around my schedule. Plus, I didn’t always have clients every day.

    My rates for fitness training remained in the ₦5k – ₦7k range because I had the same set of clients. 

    But I made more money from hair and installing locs. My rates for locs were a flat ₦20k for installation and ₦7k for retie. I typically got at least one new client monthly. I also got the occasional food and allowance from home. My dad slashed the latter to ₦10k as punishment for refusing to return home.

    I’m curious, was there a reason why you didn’t want to return?

    All I can say is, that neighbourhood isn’t a place for young adults who want a lot from life. It’s full of Yahoo boys and their girlfriends, whose goal in life is to own a frontal hair and an iPhone XR. It’s a shitty way to live, and I can’t go back there.

    In September 2023, I dropped the fitness training gig because I got a 9-5 job and couldn’t handle everything together. 

    What was the job?

    A telemarketing, commission-based role at a fintech. My income was typically between ₦50k and ₦80k monthly. The job was hybrid, so I’d work two days onsite, three days remotely, and then take on hair clients during the weekend. 

    In January 2024, I moved from telemarketing to a growth intern within the same company. My salary became a fixed ₦76,500/month. The plan was to become a full-time staff member, and they said the easiest way was to go through an internship. 

    However, office politics entered the matter, and even after my internship ended in October 2024, they said something something “hiring freeze”. Meanwhile, they made another intern a full staff member. Then they moved me to another team and made promises. It was a lot. 

    The straw that broke the camel’s back was when they added multiple new KPIs to my responsibilities in February 2025. One of them was a monthly revenue target of ₦5m.

    For someone who wasn’t even earning ₦100k?

    See. My job title was still intern, and I was managing 25 people in POS operations. I complained to my line manager, who promised to see what he could do, but I’d already checked out.

    At this point, I was earning about ₦150k – ₦200k monthly as a loctician. I honestly should’ve left the 9-5 much earlier, but anxiety is a terrible thing. I’m very risk-averse, so I hesitated. It was like a “the devil you know is better than the angel you don’t know” situation. 

    One day, I gathered strength and resigned. 

    My manager tried to get me to stay and promised I’d become a full-time staff member in the same month, but I was tired of hoping. Plus, my salary would’ve only increased to ₦200k, which I was already getting from making hair. I’d also started taking some clients during the days I worked from home, and a full-time role would mean cutting down on the hours I could manage. 

    I considered all that and decided I’d rather focus on increasing my efforts as a loctician and making more money. 

    What’s your income like these days?

    I currently make at least ₦550k/month from doing hair and locs. Since I left the 9-5, my clients have noticed that my work has become faster. Maybe it’s because I no longer have to worry about my line manager calling or feeling guilty that I’m neglecting my 9-5 duties. I’m at peace. There is no stress.

    That said, I have an insatiable need to earn more. Once I notice I’m earning in the same range for three months in a row, I start brainstorming how to increase my income in the coming month. This especially applies to my business. I’m always thinking about what I can do to improve my earnings. I use social media extensively; I even walk into the DMs of people who have locs and pitch my services to them.

    My income has been around ₦550k for about three months, and my next move is to look out for events targeted at creatives, attend and start conversations with as many people as possible. I also plan to run social media ads as the year ends, especially as the IJGBs will soon begin planning their return. 

    Sounds like a plan. Are your charges still within the ₦20k range?

    Ah. God forbid. Installation rates now range between ₦50k – ₦200k depending on the loc style, size and hair length. 

    Dying at “God forbid”. You mentioned living with anxiety. How does it impact your work?

    Therapy and medication help me a great deal. I used to have really bad anxiety and depressive episodes. I like to describe it as having a random person in your head who’s always trying to gaslight you. So, I had to learn a lot of coping mechanisms. 

    In school, I practised complimenting people to overcome my anxiety. Now, I find it easy to strike up conversations with people, and I get a ton of clients that way. I’ll live with anxiety and depression forever, so I just learn to manage them.

    How would you describe your relationship with money?

    It’s pretty good. I live within my means. I’m an introvert who doesn’t go anywhere. So, 50% – 60% of my income typically goes to savings, and then I use the rest for my upkeep. 

    I can also ascribe my financial habits to anxiety. I grew up with a dad who could wake up one day and be like, “My prayer in life was to do better than what my father did. My father stopped paying my school fees in secondary school. Now you’re in 200 level. I’ve definitely done more than what my father did. You should start paying your school fees yourself.” 

    I never knew when he’d wake up and actually decide he wasn’t financially responsible for me anymore. I never want to live with that kind of anxiety due to being dependent on another person again, so I guess that’s why I save so much. 

    Let’s break down what your typical month in expenses looks like

    Nairalife #341 expenses

    This is an estimate because I don’t receive my income all at once at the end of the month. So, what I typically do when a client pays me is to save 50% and use the remaining 50% to cover living expenses, transportation and anything that comes up.

    I have about ₦1.2m in my savings and $35 in stocks via an investment platform. I’m just starting to build my stock portfolio, though. I still don’t really have an idea what I’m doing, but I have financial analyst friends who help answer the questions I have. I’m hoping, from next month, I can put at least ₦50k in stocks monthly and see where that takes me. I hope to have at least $1k in stocks by the end of next year.

    You’re a full-time loctician now. Do you think you’ll stay that way for much longer?

    I don’t know really. Anxiety is a goddamn bitch. My doctor still asked me the same question recently. 

    I know my heart is more at peace right now that I don’t have a 9-5. But the economy isn’t smiling, so I don’t know. I know I need more than one income source to survive in this country, but I’m not sure what to do right now.

    There’s also the fact that I’m an Oliver Twist who just always wants more. I’m not suffering, but I still want more. I was talking about this with a friend, and when she asked why I wanted more, I said, “I just want to be looking at it in my account.” 

    Is there an ideal amount you’d like to earn monthly?

    At least ₦700k – ₦800k/month, and I’ll see where I can go from there.

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

    A better apartment. I currently share a ₦300k/year room with someone. I want a room and a parlour or a mini flat — I could work out of my parlour and live in the room. But the rent prices these days? It’s like the government wants us to work just to pay rent. 

    Phew. I can relate. Is there anything you’d like to be better at financially?

    Investments. I hate being risk-averse so much, and I’m actively trying to be better at taking risks.

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

    6.5. I’m happy, but I’d like to save more. My rating will increase when I earn more and have more in investments.


    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.

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  • This week in Johannesburg, South Africa, TikTok held its first-ever Digital Well-being Summit in Africa. Policymakers, mental health experts, creators, and NGOs from across the continent (Nigeria, South Africa, Kenya, Ghana) came together to talk about how to make the internet less overwhelming and more helpful, especially for young people.

    “People come to TikTok to learn, share their experiences, and connect with communities around the world. That is why we work collaboratively with our partners to build a digital space that reflects our collective commitment to safety, innovation, and positive social impact,” says Fortune Mgwili-Sibanda, Director of Public Policy and Government Relations, TikTok.

    TikTok also came prepared with some major updates and features aimed at helping Africans manage their digital lives better. From mental health support to meditation features, here’s everything they’re rolling out:

    1. Meditation Is Now Built Into TikTok

    TikTok is now offering a guided meditation feature within the app. It’s part of a tool called Sleep Hours, which automatically kicks in at 10pm for users under 18 (older users can opt in too). The idea? Help people, especially teens, wind down, breathe easier, and stop scrolling endlessly when they should be getting some rest.

    Mindful meditation is proven to help with sleep and emotional balance, and TikTok wants to help young users develop healthier nighttime habits without shaming them for being online.

    2. A $2.3 Million Mental Health Fund—Now Open to African Organisations

    TikTok’s Mental Health Education Fund, which launched in 2023, just expanded to include Sub-Saharan Africa. For the first time, African mental health organisations will get funding and support to create content that tackles stigma and spreads mental health awareness.

    The first three African partners are:

    • South African Depression and Anxiety Group (SADAG)
    • Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI)
    • Kenya’s Mental360

    Expect to see more local, relatable, and culturally relevant mental health content from these organisations, with the help of TikTok’s ad power and platform reach.

    3. In-App Helplines for When You Need Real Support

    In the coming weeks, African users will start seeing local mental health helplines directly inside the TikTok app, especially when they’re reporting content related to suicide, self-harm, bullying, hate, or harassment.

    It’s like TikTok saying, “Hey, we’re taking this seriously,” and offering real-time access to counselling and mental health resources, not just content removals. These helplines have already been tested in Europe and are now making their way to the continent.

    “TikTok is committed to user safety and community well-being and provides tools and protections to help our community enjoy their experience on the platform. But to achieve this, we all need to play a very vital role in fostering a secure and respectful environment,” says Mercy Kimaku, Regional Risk Prevention Lead (Sub-Saharan Africa).

    4. Mental Health Ambassadors Are Here to Talk You Through the Tough Stuff

    TikTok is also teaming up with the World Health Organization to introduce its first-ever Mental Health Ambassadors from across Africa. These are verified medical professionals who’ll be sharing expert advice and relatable content on mental health, emotional well-being, and how to deal with online stress.

    Meet the first African ambassadors:

    • Sanam Naran (South Africa)
    • Dr Claire Kinuthia (Kenya)
    • Doctor Wales (Nigeria)
    • Doctor Siya (South Africa)

    They’ll be popping up more in your feed. Think of them as your TikTok-friendly therapists in your pocket.

    5. #MentalHealthMatters Is Getting Bigger

    If you’ve seen the hashtag #MentalHealthMatters around TikTok, you’re not alone. TikTok says it’s doubling down on this campaign to keep pushing conversations about self-care, therapy, anxiety, and mental health into the mainstream.

    So next time you see a TikTok reminding you to take a break or breathe, don’t scroll past too quickly.

    Why This Matters

    TikTok knows it’s a huge part of many people’s daily lives, especially young Africans. These updates show that the platform is paying attention to how being online affects mental health, and it’s trying to create tools that actually help, not just keep people scrolling.

    It’s not perfect, but it’s a step forward. And with African organisations now getting direct support, the conversation around mental health is finally becoming a lot more local, and a lot more real.

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  •  Someone you know has left or is planning to leave. 1,000 Ways To Japa will speak to real people and explore the infinite number of reasons and paths they use to get to Japa


    Mfon* (28) was broke, depressed, and recovering from the psychological effects of a toxic job, until she decided to change her life. In this story, she shares how getting a foreign job and relocating to Japan with less than ₦7 million has taken most of her problems away. 

    Where do you currently live, and when did you move out of Nigeria?

    I currently live in Japan. I moved in March 2025 because I needed a break from Nigeria. It was the easiest and most affordable place for me to live. 

    Why did you need a break from Nigeria?

    I was depressed at the time, and it all went back to 2023, when I had to quit a toxic job for my sanity. I moved in with my parents after quitting my job. I was doing nothing with my life, and it continued that way until 2024. I decided I couldn’t continue living like that, so I started focusing on fashion design, but I didn’t find satisfaction in it because the mental effects of that toxic job still haunted me. I also wanted to do something tangible with my life. That’s why I started considering relocation. 

    I’m sorry you went through that. How did Japan come into the picture?

    I got a job that came with a visa sponsorship. In pursuit of tangible achievements, I stumbled on websites where I found international job listings. That’s usually the easiest way to get a job in Japan. The website is called GaijinPot. Some Japanese companies have websites where you can apply for jobs directly.  I did both–I applied through company websites and GaijinPot – but the one that went through was the company website job listing.

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    Can you share more job-hunting tips?

    From personal experience, you can’t do much to influence the Japanese hiring process. However, having basic qualifications goes a long way.

    I applied for a language teaching assistant job, and I needed at least a bachelor’s degree, which means that I was required to have 12 years of education. They also added that I needed to be a native English speaker or from an English-speaking country. I couldn’t meet that requirement, so I substituted with something close.

    What did you do?

    I acquired a Teaching English as a Foreign Language certificate from Alison.com. This worked for me, but other people’s journeys might be different. Just do your research, find out what your employer wants and tailor your application to match their requirements. Whatever the case, having teaching experience helps when applying for a teaching job. I only had three months of experience, and I got the job.

    Thank you. What was the immigration process like for you?

    After I got the job offer, the company asked me to send some documents to process my Certificate of Eligibility (COE), which is a necessity in the visa application process. 

    Here’s how it works: The party sponsoring the visa (the company) has to apply for the COE in Japan. When it’s out, the sponsor sends it to you. Once you receive it, you can apply for the visa. You have to book an appointment at the embassy, go with your passport, COE, and the rest is pretty straightforward. The visa is typically ready within a week. It was a fast process for me. I got the job in December, my COE was prepared in February, and I moved in March. 

    How much did the process cost you?

    The company’s sponsorship didn’t cover much, so I had to pay for my visa and every other minor expense. My company recommended budgeting 600,000 yen for the relocation process, which is about ₦7 million. My flight cost me about $1,000. I needed a police character certificate, which cost around ₦50,000, and the visa cost me ₦12,500. Those were the major expenses.

    Oh, that’s relatively affordable! How’s life in Japan going?

    It’s been two months, but I love it here already. I’ve always wanted a life outside Nigeria.

    Life didn’t magically become great, but it’s easier because there’s a system in place here. And as someone who loves nature, it feels like a perfect fit because of the beautiful parks. I can go to the park anytime I like because it is free. The only thing I’m still trying to get used to is how much they mind their business. Even when you try to greet them, they won’t respond sometimes. But everything else is great!

    Is that because of the language barrier?

    I don’t think so. The primary requirement of my job is that I speak no Japanese to my students, because the school is trying to encourage them to use English as much as possible. So I don’t speak Japanese at all at work. That is the entire point of my job. 

    When I’m outside work, I use a translator app or speak the basic Japanese I know. But that’s not why they like to mind their business. I’ve concluded that it’s either a national trait or they are shy.

    Aside from the solid system in Japan, what are the perks of living there?

    It’s a really safe country, and my salary here is much better than what I earned in Nigeria. My favourite part is that there’s stable electricity, and it doesn’t cost that much. The transportation system is also solid. There are more perks that I’ll discover the longer I live here.

    Is Japan your final destination?

    It’s a beautiful country and a great place to raise children, but Japan is famous for not being completely accepting of immigrants. Most of the time, you can only get English teaching jobs. With my visa, that’s the only career I can explore here. Getting permanent residence can also take 10 years if you don’t have a really good job. So, I’m not sure if this is my final destination.

    I was not happy in Nigeria. I was broke, depressed, and without electricity. It sounds funny, but it was a big deal. I was a tailor, and I needed constant electricity, but the power supply was nothing to write home about. I was spending too much on fuel. 

    On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in Japan?

    A solid nine. I’m just happy to be away from Nigeria. 


     Want to share your japa story? Please reach out to me here.


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  • 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 #322 bio

    When did you realise the importance of money?

    In the university. I attended a boarding secondary school and didn’t handle much money as a child. I think that’s why, the first time my dad gave me a ₦40k allowance in uni, I went wild and finished the money in one week. And this was in 2007.

    The whole thing? 

    Yes. It was the first time I realised that money could come easily but go just as quickly. My dad was surprised when I called to ask for more money after a week. 

    He was like, “You know what? I’ll only give you ₦20k for the whole month from now on.” So I had to learn to manage. It wasn’t difficult to adjust; I just knew what I had and managed my expectations accordingly. That was the only option after my dad made it clear I’d only get money from home once a month.

    Speaking of, what was the financial situation at home?

    We were middle class. My parents are divorced, so I grew up with my dad. I’m not sure if my mum contributed financially, but my siblings and I lived with my engineer dad. 

    There were occasional periods of lack growing up, but my dad took care of the bills and gave us a comfortable life. I didn’t need to do anything extra for money, though I tried once in my final year at uni.

    Tell me about it

    I had a printer in school because of my final year project. So, I thought of charging people for printing services.

    I had plenty of customers because students always need to print something. I might have charged ₦50 per page and made about ₦10k/month. The business only lasted two months because I didn’t know I was supposed to keep business money aside; I spent it all. When it was time to replace the printer ink, I had no money left. That was the end of my money-making attempt in uni.

    I graduated in 2011 and moved to the UK for my master’s degree.

    How did you handle your day-to-day expenses in the UK?

    My dad gave me a £150/month allowance, which covered all my expenses. In fact, I lived a pretty comfortable life. Food was cheap in the UK. I’d buy foodstuff in bulk for £30 at the beginning of the month and cook when I needed. The rest of my money went into occasionally eating out and using the train.

    I returned to Nigeria after my degree in 2013, and NYSC was the next step. I served in the army because they wanted people who could teach them a language I studied. My NYSC allawee, plus the stipend I received from the army, brought my monthly income to ₦60k.

    Was ₦60k good money?

    This was 2013, so it was good money. The ₦60k took me the whole month and then some. I wasn’t partying so much, but I hung out with friends regularly. My dad had bought me a car at this point, and fuel wasn’t expensive, so things were great.

    After NYSC, my dad helped me get an interview with a bank. I got the role and interned for three months, earning ₦100k/month. Training school came after, and I was there for two months, also earning ₦100k. It was a lot of money back then. 

    2014 was my most active year; I spent most of it outside. There was no restaurant in Lagos I didn’t visit. I met up with friends for drinks, went to the beach, and just generally was everywhere. I had zero savings. 

    Then, just before the end of training school, I decided I didn’t want to work in a bank and quit. If I’d stayed, my salary would’ve been increased to ₦250k, but I had to leave.

    Why?

    I couldn’t deal with the stress. I was undiagnosed at the time, but I’d developed bipolar disorder. I’d been manic for most of the year, and at that point, I just felt like I’d die if I didn’t leave. I could tell something was off. 

    My dad was understandably upset and tried hard to convince me to stay. When I insisted, he took my car and said, “You want to be an adult? Be an adult. Do things how you want to do them, but know there will be consequences.” 

    He later forgave me, but he thought I threw an opportunity away. 

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    When did you get diagnosed?

    A few months later, in 2015. I also started taking medication, so I became more stable. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my career, but I thought marketing would be a good fit because I consider myself creative. 

    I told my dad, and he supported me. He paid for the online marketing courses I took, and after I got my certificates, he linked me up with a marketing agency. I got the job as an assistant manager for client services, and my salary was ₦100k/month.

    Did you prefer the job to banking?

    Yes, in many ways. There was a better work-life balance, and my workplace was five minutes away from my house, which was great.

    The only downside was that there wasn’t much prospect for income growth, and they often delayed salaries. Some months after I got in, I found out my supervisor earned less than I did; she’d been there for five years.

    You say?

    They had a thing where the salary you negotiated at the beginning is what you get, and the salary only increases by like ₦3k or ₦4k as the years go by. Even my ₦100k was the gross pay; my actual pay was about ₦80k+ after deductions. 

    I supplemented my salary with a side hustle. I got close to my supervisor, and she introduced me to the foreign company she worked for on the side. I got paid in naira, and my job was to provide client services (remotely). My income from that was ₦60k/month. 

    How long did you juggle both roles?

    Two years. I left the marketing agency in July 2017 because they kept owing salaries. I lived on my income from the side hustle until January 2018, when I had a massive manic episode that landed me in the hospital for a few weeks. 

    Even after I was discharged, I didn’t feel like myself. My dad suggested I visit with my mum in the UK to recover, so I did. I stayed in the UK for six months. I even stopped my medications because I felt they weren’t working. What was the point of taking medication if they couldn’t keep manic episodes at bay? 

    So, I rawdogged life without medication for about a year. Looking back, I was manic throughout without realising it. 

    I started job-hunting when I returned to Nigeria in August 2018. Again, my dad helped, and I got interviewed for a project management role with an oil servicing firm in October. I asked for ₦500k, but they could only pay ₦120k, so I took it. I should mention that I’d taken a project management course in the UK, which helped. I worked there for two years, and my salary grew to ₦150k. I left when the place became too toxic.

    Did you have another job lined up?

    Yes. A job in communications and business development at a startup. It was practically two roles in one, and the salary was ₦200k/month. I tried to negotiate higher, but I think I’m bad at negotiations. 

    At this point, I was living alone. My family had moved further away, and my dad didn’t want the longer commute to trigger another manic episode. My rent was ₦700k/year for a one-bedroom apartment. Living on my own made it clear my salary wasn’t great. I had to save and manage money to meet my living expenses.

    Fortunately, six months into the job, a job I’d applied for at a foreign embassy in Nigeria came through. I applied for the job the previous year, and it took six months before they called me, and another six months to complete the interview process. This was in 2021, and I’m still at the job today. I work in the passports and citizenship office.

    I imagine the salary was a big jump from your pay at the startup

    It was. When I got in, my salary was ₦770k/month. It has increased several times over the years because of inflation. It went from ₦770k to ₦800k, then ₦1m. After a few more bumps, my employers just decided to pay in dollars, so now I earn $1,100, which is around ₦1.7m after conversion.

    I wouldn’t say I’ve really enjoyed the pay increases because, sometime in 2020, I got into gambling. Right from when I got this job in 2021, I was already repaying gambling loans.


    Click here if you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story


    How did you get into gambling?

    It was a period when I needed extra money to supplement my salary. I’d dabbled in putting money on horse racing and casinos in the UK, but it was nothing too serious. I also tried once from Nigeria using my UK card details and won £90, but the betting companies got stricter about only allowing UK residents to use their services. 

    I decided to try casinos again in 2020, and won ₦500k with a ₦20k stake. That’s how I got hooked. The thing about gambling is, one never really makes progress. If you keep gambling, especially at casinos, you’ll certainly win up to a point and then start losing money. 

    I didn’t know how to stop, so I constantly lost money. When I earned ₦770k, I took out ₦200k for feeding and ₦298k for rent, and spent the rest gambling. When my salary finished, I moved on to loans. At first, I used loan apps, but after they embarrassed me once, I moved on to banks for loans and kept racking up debt. 

    I initially planned to use a percentage of my salary to repay the loans every month, so I’d still have money for other living expenses. But as my debt increased, my ability to repay decreased.

    My dad stepped in twice and paid off all my debt, but I just went back and racked up more debt. It was a full-blown addiction. All my money went into the casinos and settling debt. I barely had anything left for food. I didn’t know it then, but my constant gambling was linked to my mental illness. 

    How so?

    In 2024, I started taking active steps towards recovering from my gambling addiction. I reached out to an NGO for therapy. When the therapist noticed I was on medication for bipolar disorder, they pointed out that my medication wasn’t strong enough. 

    It turned out that impulsive spending is a symptom of my condition, and my medication wasn’t fully managing it. So, I switched medications and noticed that the urge to gamble went away. But the new medication came with serious side effects: weight gain, constant sleepiness, and my monthly flow disappeared. 

    I stopped the medication for a while because of the side effects, and the urge to gamble returned with a vengeance. It was so bad that whether I had money or not, I’d find a way to get or borrow money just to gamble it all away. My worst day in gambling ever was when I gambled away ₦2.2m in one day. 

    Wow

    I returned to the stronger medication a few months ago and accepted the side effects like that. I also gave my dad all my money to hold so I wouldn’t have quick access to it.

    It’ll take a while for the medication to kick in with full effect, so the urge to gamble still comes once in a while. But it’s nothing compared to before. I’ve blocked gambling websites on my phone, and whenever I manage to find a new website, I set ₦20k wager limits so I can catch myself before I go overboard. Once I realise I’m gambling again, I close the account and practice self-exclusion. 

    It’s not easy, but I’m managing it well. Right now, I’m focused on settling my debts and learning how to manage my money again. I keep most of my money locked away in fintech apps, so I get minimal access at certain times. Also, I often send my salary to my dad after taking out what I need to repay loans monthly. 

    I’d like to increase my self-control to the point where I don’t need to send money to my dad; it’s not the best locking-money-away measure. My dad still gives me my money if I ask for it, which isn’t really effective.

    You mentioned settling debts. How much do you currently owe?

    About ₦5m. It used to be around ₦9m across three banks and a UK credit card, but I’ve been actively repaying monthly since last year. I currently pay ₦600k in loan repayments every month. At my current repayment rate, it should take another year to pay everything off.

    While we’re on the subject, what do your typical monthly expenses look like?

    Nairalife #322 expenses

    I no longer pay rent because I moved back home in 2024. I needed to make some lifestyle changes and save money, so instead of paying rent, I pay a driver to take me to work.

    I have about ₦500k in my savings account right now, which is puzzling because I save ₦400k monthly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m still gambling or haven’t figured out a good spending habit.

    How have your experiences impacted your relationship with money?

    At some point, all I thought about was gambling with money. Now, I’m trying really hard to save. I understand that money doesn’t need to come quickly; it can also go quickly. Regardless of how long it takes to make money, it can go fast because there’s always something to spend on. 

    I’m still learning how to manage money. I think I didn’t learn earlier because of my background, so I’m playing catch-up. I’ve started with savings and hope to build on that and find more ways to accumulate wealth. 

    I would have tried investments, but I think I’ve expended all my risk in my gambling days. So, I’ll stick to savings plans that allow me to lock up my money for now.

    What do you imagine the next few years will look like?

    First, I want to be completely debt-free and never take out loans again. I also hope to grow my savings to ₦6m within two years.

    I’m considering moving to Canada in the next few years, so I could either do that or stay in my role. By the way, I really enjoy my work, so I wouldn’t mind continuing what I’m currently doing. 

    That said, I still want to have a side hustle. This might be the only job I’ve had without something else on the side. Some options I’m considering are content writing or something in marketing. I haven’t been able to actively pursue gigs because my medication always makes me tired, but I’m on the lookout.

    What was the last thing you spent money on that made you happy?

    My phone. I got it in February for ₦570k after the previous one got stolen in traffic. I know having a phone increases the risk of returning to gambling, but I still do other things with my phone, and I was happy I could replace it.

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

    3. I still have a long way to go. It’ll be a 10 when I’m debt-free and have at least ₦6m savings.


    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.

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  • Ada (25) knows her period is coming whenever she starts getting dark thoughts that leave her fighting for her life. She talks about how a random tweet introduced her to Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) and a community of women that make her feel less alone in her struggles. 

    As told to Margaret

    I don’t tell people this often, but my life feels miserable whenever my period is coming. It starts with an intense urge to take my own life.

    The week before my period comes, I feel depressed. I wake up exhausted, and I end up crying because the urge to off myself is so strong.  It would get so bad sometimes, and I’d start wondering what the problem was with me, but when my period finally showed up, it always made sense to me why I was getting those thoughts– my menstruation.

    So I didn’t know that there was a medical term for this feeling, and I didn’t think it was something other women experienced until I saw a tweet sometime in 2023.  I can’t remember who made the tweet, but the babe who posted it said something along the lines of how she would constantly feel really sad and depressed two weeks before her period.

    She later made a follow-up tweet and shared an article about Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD).  I read the article, and it hit me, like, “Okay, I’m not crazy; this is something other women can relate to.”

    It felt great knowing what I was going through was medically backed up. The other women engaging with that tweet felt validated and relieved to know they weren’t alone. I have dealt with depression and suicidal tendencies for the longest time, but it took me a long time to realise that PMDD was something that made those suicidal thoughts worse. 

    I haven’t gotten medically diagnosed, but I tried consulting with a male doctor before I saw that tweet, and it wasn’t very productive– It just felt like he was gaslighting me.  He said things like ” What you’re feeling is not serious enough to get a diagnosis; just try to focus on happy thoughts before your period” which is crazy because if it were that easy to replace suicidal thoughts with happy thoughts, I would never have visited a hospital. 

    I’ve considered going to another hospital for the diagnosis, but that experience discouraged me from reaching out to anyone else. 

    It also didn’t feel necessary anymore after I saw that tweet.  I think all I wanted the doctor to do was to help me understand what was going on with my mind. I just wanted to know what was wrong with me, but I didn’t want to be put on meds. For someone who is suicidal, pills can be triggering. 

    For now, I’m just surrounding myself with people that make me feel supported.  Since I realised that what I had was PMDD,  my boyfriend has been monitoring my menstrual cycle. Whenever my period is a week or two away,  he sends a message to give me a heads-up.  That’s always my cue to surround myself with the things and people I love. That’s also when I stay away from things that are triggering.

    Honestly, the most helpful thing for me is bonding with other women who are going through the same thing. I have three friends who get their period around the same time I get mine, and they deal with those depressive thoughts too. It really helps to talk to people who say, “I understand what you’re going through”, and they genuinely do.

    Whenever it’s any of our turns, we take time to care for each other. A friend once created a playlist for me, and I’ve also had others write me letters or send me things they believe would help ease my struggles. It’s easier because I don’t have to always explain how I feel; they understand because it’s their reality, too. 


    If you suspect that someone you know might be suffering from PMDD, here’s how to help them.


    But that’s just a coping mechanism. It still feels like I’m fighting for my life for two weeks every month. My life would be much easier if I didn’t have to deal with it. I get two weeks every month where I have peace of mind, and then the next two weeks are just chaos and other forms of frustration.  It’s the worst thing. I see other people living 10/10 lives, but mine feels like a 5/10 life because of PMDD. If you take that away, my life would be a solid 8/10. 

    For something as serious as PMDD, the level of research is extremely low. I read about women’s health regularly, so it doesn’t make sense that I didn’t know what PMDD was until 2023.

    It’s not discussed enough. There are so many women who don’t understand where the intense emotions and depressive thoughts they get before their period are coming from. It makes me wonder how many women have given in to the urge to take their own lives because of PMDD. And honestly, I feel like if men were going through these things, there would be enough research, and there would have been a solution by now. 

    I’ve heard stories of women being gaslit by medical professionals, and most of them were either told to lose weight or add more weight, depending on how much they weighed. For me, I also got told it’ll stop when I give birth. 

    I think Nigerian doctors are aware of the severity of PMDD, but as in most disorders that heavily affect women, it is not taken as seriously. Call it medical misogyny if you will. 


    While there are no reliable local resources due to the limited level of awareness and research (particularly for Nigerian women), here are a few steps you can take if you’d like to get diagnosed or have suffered from medical gaslighting


    I think that while PMDD has the same symptoms for most women, it can also be different for some women.  But if you are consistently struggling every week before your period, mentally and emotionally, I would advise speaking to a medical professional, someone who is kind and empathetic, because without that, you’ll feel unseen. 

    I would also advise doing your own research on it, as no one can fully understand how you feel except you. Once you understand your symptoms, you can understand how they present for you.

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  • Toyosi (29) travelled to India to study nursing in 2015 and achieved her lifelong dream of working in a hospital.

    Nine years later, she’s a practising nurse, but she now wishes she never got into the profession.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik

    I knew I wanted to work in healthcare since I was 10. Not because of any particular passion for saving lives, though. My reason was far more simplistic.

    I suffered severe asthma growing up, and the hospital was my second home. My mum didn’t want me using inhalers because of the stigma, so I used tablets instead. That didn’t always work, and coupled with my playful nature, I was almost always guaranteed to land at the hospital at least twice a week. But I didn’t mind; I loved seeing the doctors and nurses and wanted to be like them. 

    Inevitably, I began pursuing university admission to study medicine immediately after I finished secondary school in 2011. But it wasn’t as straightforward as I hoped.

    If it wasn’t JAMB “jamming” me, it was the school doing its own. I even picked a JUPEB exam form in 2011 so I could gain admission via direct entry to the second year. But somehow, the results came out, and my name got mixed up with someone else’s. There was nothing I could do. I can’t remember exactly how much my parents spent on the form, but I know it was expensive. 

    In 2014, I finally got admitted to a federal university, but for a degree in nutrition and dietetics rather than the medicine I wanted. I accepted the admission, but my heart was still set on medicine. I also wrote nursing school exams. I just wanted to work in the hospital.

    So, when I got the opportunity to move to India to study nursing in 2015, I grabbed it with both hands. 

    I was 20, in a new country with no family or friends nearby. When I first got to India, I lived with my travel agent’s girlfriend for a month before my mum paid for my apartment.

    It took some time for me to adapt to India; the many masalas, the hundreds of stray dogs on the streets who barked all night, and nursing school. Nursing school was difficult.

    To be fair, nursing school is difficult all around the world, but I had a language barrier to overcome. The tutors taught in English, but they often switched to Hindi to help local students understand better, and it always annoyed me.

    The language barrier also impacted my practical experience. I mainly worked in the intensive care (ICU), surgical, and obstetrics and gynaecology units, as they guaranteed minimal interaction with the local Indian patients. 

    But I still learned a lot. The few times I interacted with patients, they were more than excited to talk to me and touch me— even though Indians are also dark-skinned. My hair fascinated them, and I was this phenomenon they didn’t understand.

    I graduated from nursing school in 2020 but couldn’t practise in India. For some reason, they didn’t license international students, so I couldn’t get a proper job there. I had to return to Nigeria.

    In Nigeria, foreign-trained nurses must register with the nursing council, take a six-month adaptation course, write the nursing council exams, and intern at a teaching hospital for one year before finally getting a nursing license. The process takes about two years.

    I went through hell during those two years of processing my license. First, there was the discrimination. I took the adaptation course at a federal university, and they made it clear I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t “their student”, so  I shouldn’t expect any special treatment. 

    The internship experience wasn’t better. Once I mentioned I trained in India, the other doctors and nurses would go, “Ehen, you that even went outside to study, shebi you’re still here with us.” I even started claiming I trained in Nigeria, but they almost always found out after I couldn’t answer questions about the institution I claimed to attend.

    Aside from the discrimination, I quickly realised that practising nursing in Nigeria was much different. There’s so much improvisation here. In India, I use a tourniquet to set an IV line or collect blood. I’ve never seen that in Nigeria. I have to cut a drip set to tie on the patient’s hand. I’ve also spoken to a nurse who’d never seen a defibrillator in her life.

    There’s also crazy politics in the medical space here — a kind of “Don’t do my work” vibe. In India, I was taught autonomy. If the patient needed urgent care before the doctor arrived, I could attend to that. 

    However, during my internship in Nigeria, I witnessed a patient die after going into cardiac arrest because the doctor wasn’t around, and the head nurse insisted it was the doctor’s job to resuscitate the patient. The nurses couldn’t even give first aid. I’m still in shock. 

    I finally got my Nigerian nursing license in 2022 and got a job at a private hospital for ₦50k/month. I did that for a year and moved to where I currently work as an ICU nurse, even though the salary isn’t that much better at ₦150k.

    I wasn’t prepared for how low nurses earn in Nigeria, especially considering the sheer physical stress my new job brought with it. The mental stress, too? I almost lost my mind.

    It wasn’t that I’d never experienced a patient’s death before. While schooling in India, I once lost a patient after feeding him through a nasogastric tube. The patient was already dying, so I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still felt terrible. A senior colleague had to intervene and convince me that his death wasn’t my fault.

    While also working in the ICU unit in India, I witnessed several deaths, and I learnt to detach myself. In fact, during my third year in school, a fellow student and I once exhaustedly fell asleep on a bed that’d just held a dead patient a few minutes ago. So, I thought I had emotional detachment on lock.

    However, my mental health started to suffer after I started my current job at the intensive care unit (ICU). The ICU, as the name implies, cares for badly injured patients — people on the verge of death. Once these patients become stable, they get transferred to other units.

    In my first month on the job, no one was transferred out of the ICU. It was just death. I’d see a patient today, and they’d be dead by my next shift. These were people my age and even younger than me. Maybe it was because it’d been a while since I worked in the ICU, but the deaths began to affect me. I started having wild heart palpitations. A normal heart rate should be 60 – 100 beats per minute. Mine was regularly above 130.

    I did every test in the book — ECG, heart echo tests, hormonal tests, everything. Every doctor I saw told me there was nothing physically wrong with me. I didn’t understand until a doctor colleague at work told me I was suffering from severe anxiety, and it was common among nurses. 

    He advised me to stay calm and try to reduce my attachment to patients because deaths would always happen. He was right. Most people don’t know that nurses also pass through the five stages of grief. I don’t have to be extra close to a patient before their death affects me. 

    I recently lost a patient who was hit by a car as he crossed the road to return home from work. He was just 30, and he had a family. For some time after that, I was scared to leave work for home because what if I also got into an accident? Still, I had to put my fear aside and show up for my patients.

    It’s easy to say nurses are wicked and unemotional, but we’re also trying to stay sane. The suffering and death get to me, but I can’t put it on my face because I have a job to do. Sometimes, patients come fully ready to be unkind because of what they’ve heard about nurses, but I have emotions, too.

    At 10 years old, I thought my dream was to work in the hospital. I achieved that dream, but if I had the chance to rewind time, I’d never do it again. I’d have stuck with the nutrition and dietetics I got, or even pharmacy or physiotherapy. The anxiety and trauma I go through daily isn’t worth it at all. 


    NEXT READ: I Relocated for My Children’s Future, but I Fear They Resent Me

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  • Fola* (40) got diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression at 19 after surviving an abuse-related mental breakdown. She shares her frustrations with how mental illness has affected her relationships, quality of life and her ability to parent her children.


    TW: Sexual abuse, domestic abuse and self-harm.


    As told to Boluwatife

    Image designed by Freepik

    I’ve lived with bipolar disorder for 22 years, but I wasn’t always like this. 

    Growing up, I was the regular fun-loving child who played with her siblings and stayed over with her cousins during school holidays. But then my uncle started sexually abusing me, and my “regular” life ended.

    The first time it happened, I was 10 years old. He lived with my parents for a few months and constantly made me and my siblings touch him. Sometimes, he’d touch us. It didn’t occur to me to say anything, and it stopped when my family moved out of the area, so I just pushed it to the back of my head.

    Three years later, my parents separated, and I had to go live with my grandmother. At this time, my uncle was an undergraduate. He also lived in my grandma’s house when he wasn’t at school. I was in JSS 3. The abuse started again and continued on and off for three years whenever he was home on holiday.

    This time, it came with threats. He’d warn me to tell anyone unless he’d kill me. I think my mental health issues started accumulating from there. Whenever he wasn’t around, I simply forgot he’d abused me. Then he’d return and begin again. I now know from therapy that forgetting was my subconscious way of protecting myself. I just locked the memories away in my head.

    One time in SS 3, I overheard him tell his girlfriend that he’d “destroy Fola’s life”, and I started having panic attacks. My heart raced for days, and I kept having thoughts of death. I was preparing for my WAEC exams, but I couldn’t concentrate. It was like all my bottling up eventually reached a breaking point. 

    I remember when I finally broke down. It was the day of my chemistry exam for WAEC. I walked into the lab, and my friends were waving at me to join them when I ran out. The school’s secretary had to call my mum to let her know I was behaving strangely. She took me home, and I grew worse. I couldn’t bathe, eat or talk to anyone, and I kept crying.

    My mum thought I had acute malaria that was affecting my brain and took me to a hospital. I spent about three months there and honestly don’t remember most of what happened. There was a time when I was unconscious, and the doctors had to resuscitate me. When I started trying to cut myself and drag injections from the nurses, the doctor referred me to a psychiatric hospital.

    It took two years of regular hospital visits and consultation for the psychiatric hospital to officially diagnose and start treating me for bipolar disorder and depression in 2001. The doctor didn’t admit me to the hospital, and it took that long for an official diagnosis because I’d blanked out a lot, and it took a while for me to remember specific details. 

    I also told my mum about what my uncle had done. The family was involved, and the matter ended with begging and assurances that it’d never happen again.

    But the damage was already done. I was 19 years old, and suddenly, I was faced with the reality that I’d have to be on medication for the rest of my life.

    It took a while for me to adjust. I’d take my medication religiously for a while, but then I’d get tired and refuse to take anymore. I relapsed three times before I accepted that I couldn’t run away from medication. 

    I almost emptied my family house during one of those relapses. I stopped my drugs and had this huge burst of energy. So, I decided I was going to clean and rearrange the house. It wasn’t even dirty, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I called an aboki and told him to pack everything, even the valuable things. Luckily, my mum returned before he could take them away. 

    Living with bipolar disorder is one thing. Navigating relationships with it is another thing entirely. At different points in time, men came to me wanting to date me, but once I told them about my sickness, they ghosted me. It didn’t even matter that I was on medication, and I was always upfront about my condition. They just disappeared.

    Even when I decided to focus my attention on church and let relationships rest, this sickness still didn’t let me be. I joined the choir but couldn’t meet up with the early hours and vigils required as a church worker. 

    One of the side effects of my medication is excessive sleep. An average person sleeps eight hours, but I sleep 15-16 hours daily. That also affected my university studies, but fortunately, I still graduated. 

    I met my husband, Robert*, just after NYSC service year in 2012. We met in a keke, and he asked for my number. I remember he had one small torchlight phone, and I thought, “See the phone this one is using to toast woman?”

    Anyway, we got talking, and I immediately told him about my condition. He didn’t mind. He even declared that my uncle was now his enemy and he’d never talk to him if he ever saw him. 

    Robert and I got married within a year of dating. My mum was happy I’d found a man willing to marry me with my condition because not many men would want someone with bipolar disorder in their house.

    The early days of our marriage weren’t too bad. Robert understood that my medications left me tired and always oversleeping, so he helped with the chores. I also didn’t work, so he took care of the bills. I did try to run a salon, but the stress of standing for a long time affected me, and I had to stop.

    Then, Robert started hitting me. It wasn’t regular, and it happened when he grew frustrated with my inability to do certain things. He’d complain about it, I’d try to defend myself, and he’d respond with slaps. We moved to a different state after marriage, and none of my family members were close. 

    Whenever he hit me, he’d quickly call my parents to report to them about how I was in the wrong — I think he was just trying to talk before I did. He never told them about the beatings, and I didn’t say anything either.

    I had my first child in 2013. I have three children now, and each time I get pregnant, the doctors change my medication to prevent birth deformities in the kids and so that the trauma of birth and blood loss wouldn’t affect my mental health. 

    I’ve gone from using four tablets daily to eight, and my energy levels have dropped with each birth. I can’t concentrate well and can no longer do as much as I used to. As of 2015, I could still go to the market, cook in bulk and store soups in the freezer. Now, I can only cook soups thrice a month, and even that is with serious determination. 

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    I had my last child in 2022, and my doctor instructed me not to have any more if I didn’t want to be totally useless. 

    My husband is aware of how much childbirth has affected me, but it still doesn’t change the fact that most of our issues are because of my condition. I do try my best. I run a provisions store, which I started in 2023, and I try to go in the evenings when I feel well enough to do so. But then my husband comes home from work and wants me to cook fresh food, but I can’t do it. It’s really affecting our relationship.

    To be honest, he tries his best. When he’s in a good mood, he helps me out and tries to make sure I’m fine. He cooks, helps with the children’s school runs and provides for us. But when he’s tired, he takes it to the extreme. He says things like, “What kind of wife did I even marry?” and accuses me of faking my weakness. Does he think I’m happy that I can’t be much of a wife and mother to my kids? I can’t even be actively involved with my children. 

    Sometimes, I cry all day and question God. Like, why did this have to happen to me? But then I console myself that I won’t live forever. I’ll be gone one day, and the drugs will stop.

    I guess Robert’s feelings are valid. I know my condition isn’t the easiest thing to manage, but this is a lifelong thing, and I wish he’d be more understanding. I know he has many female friends he goes to meet whenever he leaves the house angry, but I don’t even mind. If I’m not giving him the joy he wants, maybe it’s okay for him to find it elsewhere. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t stop my medication so I can have more energy because it’d only make my condition worse. So, what’s the point?

    I’ve tried to talk to him about how I feel on numerous occasions. Sometimes, he listens. Other times, it’s like, “Abeg, I’m tired of all these stories.” I’m glad he’s even stopped hitting me. I finally told my mum last year, and she threatened to arrest him. He hasn’t hit me since. 

    In all this, I’m glad I have my family as a support system. Most days, I think less of myself and worry about the things I can’t do. But my mum calls me weekly to talk to and encourage me. She was there when I first broke down and constantly reminds me how far I’ve come. I survived, I have children, and my condition is manageable even with the side effects of medication. I’m grateful to God for the little wins.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    NEXT READ: “Don’t Tell Anyone”: The Sexual Abuse Of Nigerian Boys

  • Artistes are stepping up and sharing personal experiences about mental health, which is bringing the topic into the spotlight and inspiring others to open up too.

    June is men’s mental health month and though it may come as news to some men, we hope it becomes a normalised culture that won’t need reminder at its time. Here are a few deep-cut songs,with themes around mental health that men should listen to.

    Trigger Warning: there are mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts. 

    Duade — Show Dem Camp ft. Cina Soul

    In 2019, SDC released its classic album, Clone Wars IV: These Buhari Times; an audio-documentary of the Nigerian political, cultural and mental ecosystem. The fourth track, Duade, (featuring Ghanaian singer-songwriter Cina Soul,) explores the topic of masculinity and depression. Tec opens the song with a message about how men in this part of the world don’t have an outlet to talk and often grow up thinking it’s wrong to express themselves emotionally or be vulnerable. 

    A Self Evaluation of Yxng Dxnzl — M.I Abaga ft. Niyola

    This song starts with a voice note of M.I’s mum telling him to always do the right things and not forget where he comes from. But all M.I wants to do is “drink, fuck, smoke, chill, party all day still,” with an admission that he’s been battling a deep depression and can be the worst guy sometimes.

    This song comes from his most vulnerable piece of art, Yxng Dxnzl (A Study on Self Evaluation). Across the ten-track album, listeners experience the rapper at his most human and honest form, tying mental health awareness with his personal journey, insecurities and short samples of his therapy sessions at the end of each song.

    Wetin We Gain — Victor AD

    Wetin We Gain was one of the biggest hits of 2018. Apart from its catchy chorus and relatability, different meanings (like quick wealth and internet scams) have been attached to the song, in opposition to its actual message; a cry to the heavens for a breakthrough. But it’s even deeper. The most memorable lines of the song expresses the daily fear of average Nigerian men, who feel pressure to be the breadwinners of their families.

    I’m A Mess — Omah Lay

    After his latest release, Boy Alone Deluxe, we can all agree Omah Lay is the current Nigerian poster boy for vulnerability and emotional travails. On I’m A Mess, he deeply expresses his broken heart, sadness, and finding escape in liquor. Baring age and gender, everyone can relate to this song due simplicity, both in production and lyricism.

    It’s Okay To Cry — Yinka Bernie ft. Joyce Olong

    Nigerian multidisciplinary artist Yinka Bernie accurately describes the feeling of being stuck; an experience that a lot people today can relate to, on Joyce Olong-assisted It’s Okay To Cry. Inspired by personal experiences which made Bernie doubt his music career; he soothes listeners with an encouraging message of hope and the acceptance of vulnerability: “It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to feel lost inside.” This song feels like reassurance in audio form.

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    Odeshi — Alpha Ojini ft. Ogranya

    Alpha Ojini’s Tears Are Salty For A Reason EP is filled with deep cuts tracks of vulnerability, but Odeshi explores masculinity and mental health profoundly. Ogranya lays a chorus that expresses bottling up tears and other emotions, and Alpha details struggling with mom’s demise and the ‘manly’ approach his tough dad gave him to deal with the long-time grief. All of this is coupled with the mental stress of surviving Nigeria and an ex serving him breakfast. Ogranya ends the song with “I go still commit” which translates to taking one’s own life; an expression of the last resort if the darkness doesn’t stop hovering over him. It’s a powerful record that reminds one why mental health is important and issues shouldn’t be bottled.

    A Song About Suicide (Mr. Babalawo Reprise) — PayBac iBoro

    Nigerian rapper PayBac iBoro has been a big advocate of mental health since he made an official entry into the Nigeria music industry in 2015. On his 2018 album, The Biggest Tree (his present to all depressed West African kids), is A Song About Suicide. PayBac expresses strong suicidal thoughts and his final wishes after he’s gone, over a dark fusion of Afrobeats, African percussion, trumpets sounds — all instruments you’d find at interments. Overall, the song is based on his fight to hold tightly to life and his beloved family and friends.

    Dance In The Rain — 2face Idibia

    This is one of 2Baba’s greatest recordings. A record that pushes a message of deep appreciation for life and enjoying it, taking every breath of air, being present in the moment and staying open to possibilities. In a period like this, this song is a good refresher and great reminder to chin up and stay positive.

    How Bad Could It Be — Burna Boy

    Off of Burna Boy’s 2022 album Love, Damini, this song opens with the voices of U.K singer Jorja Smith, Nigerian boxer Kamaru Usman, dropping statements about self-control; and making rational decisions during intense situations. Burna Boy glides on the guitar and laid-back beat that accompanies it, singing about the punctures of anxiety and dreadful feeling of searching for answers in the wrong places.

    take a break — Odunsi (The Engine)

    Odunsi talks about his mom’s constant complaints about his absence from home. But she needs to understand he’s been busy working hard to achieve success and make her proud. If he’s not making things happen for himself, who else will? These are some of the mentally-challenging situations inspired by his personal experience, the song encourages resting and recharging to avoid burnout.

  • From battling with traffic to hustling for fuel in long queues, Nigeria is definitely not for the faint-hearted. This is why the government needs to take our mental health seriously.

    If you’ve ever wondered how seriously the government is taking the issue of our mental health, here’s what we know.

    Nigeria’s current mental health law is six decades old

    Nigeria enacted its first mental health legislation, the Lunacy Ordinance, in 1916. The law was then revised in 1958 to include the imprisonment of mentally ill people. However, it’s sad to see that after six decades, nothing has changed about how Nigeria engages with mental health issues. 

    There have been many failed attempts

    The National Assembly introduced a Mental Health Bill in 2003 but dropped it after six years of no progress. A new bill was introduced in 2013 as part of the National Policy for Mental Health Services Delivery. The aim was to establish the foundations for delivering care to people with mental, neurological, and substance addiction difficulties. Again, this bill failed to pass.

    The latest mental health bill was introduced in the National Assembly in 2021 and has been passed. But President Buhari needs to sign it before it becomes law. We can only hope that this doesn’t end up in the dustbin as well.

    Nigeria desperately needs this new law to pass 

    Mental health care in Nigeria is a catastrophe. Approximately 80% of Nigerians with mental health needs cannot access care due to factors like lack of funds, facilities, personnel, and even cultural and religious superstitions about mental health. The common solutions for mental illnesses are almost always spiritual remedies.

    Just like everything in Nigeria that has nothing to do with the enjoyment of politicians, mental health care is also highly underfunded. The mental health budget is roughly 3.3% to 4% of GDP, with over 90% going to a few neuropsychiatric hospitals. It also doesn’t help that the primary funding for these hospitals are from the government’s health budget.

    Mental health patients are also not spared. A 2019 report by Human Rights Watch (HRW) noted that thousands of mental health patients face prolonged detention, physical and sexual violence, or forced treatment, including electroshock therapy.

    If there was ever a time to update Nigeria’s mental health policies to reflect that we’re in the 21st century, it’s now.

  • Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. 

    Photo by Christina Morillo

    This week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is a 43-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about finding peace after her mother’s death, living with two bipolar brothers and escaping toxicity through classic books and films.

    What makes you happy right now?

    My published books, blogs and fan fiction. I haven’t made much money from them, but getting readers’ feedback makes me feel better about my self-worth. My mum died a week before my 40th birthday and my mind closed off. I couldn’t function. It wasn’t just the shock of her death, I also felt she died disappointed in me. I’m her only child who didn’t give her grandchildren or get married. A lot was left unsaid between us.

    Like what?

    She wasn’t always fair to me. Islam teaches us to accept the will of Allah, but I wish I focused more on her counsel than worrying about criticism from her. My brother’s wife told me something that gave me some closure. She said they often discussed me when I was at work and my mother would say she was proud of me. I wish she’d said things like that to me. I miss her very much, and I still feel sad when I think of her.

    I’m sorry. How do you feel about not being married now?

    Well, I never imagined I’d be single at 40, but I don’t mind it at all. I don’t want to be under a man who will tell me what to do or I’d need permission from. As a single woman, I’m not pressured to meet a husband’s expectations. I’m my own person.

    What gives you this impression about marriage?

    I’ve personally not experienced many healthy ones. My brother and his family live with me, and he has bipolar disorder. He’s on medication, but he’s not easy to live with. I sympathise with his wife but get angry and frustrated during his episodes. I always have to remind myself he’s mentally ill, yet sometimes, I feel he uses it to justify his general selfishness and superiority over his wife especially. Most times, I avoid him so his antics won’t get me down, but she can’t.

    How do you manage your own mental health?

    I focus on my hobbies. I read and watch classics, and write mostly to tune out the negativity. Sometimes, I just go out. I considered therapy but decided not to because I’m terrified of the possibility of needing meds.

    RELATED: 6 Young Nigerians Talk About Mental Health Medication

    Why?

    I had panic attacks up until about 2010 because of my teaching job. I hid the attacks from my mum, who was already dealing with my younger brothers. Both of them are bipolar; I couldn’t add my issues. It was a horrible feeling, and I’m still prone to anxiety now and then. I don’t want a psychiatrist to detect it and say I should take meds. Then I’ll be unable to function without them. I want to be in control of my life without meds.

    Fair enough. What was it like growing up with two bipolar brothers?

    Their condition was undetected until they were both in university. But it’s not been easy. I never know when they might have an episode. The younger one takes his meds but won’t stop taking caffeine. He’s more bearable than the older one, but sometimes, he’s unreasonable. I resent the older one more because he’s done many things I can’t forgive him for. I generally try to avoid them.

    Tell me about the hobbies that help you tune out negativity

    I’ve loved classic books and films since I was a child. I have my late father to thank for that. He was a voracious reader who wanted his children to improve their vocabulary. He’d buy us books on our birthdays and let us read from his collection. Reading and writing fill me with fond memories of him.

    That must be nice

    He was still a strict father, though. Because of his temper and how he was set in his ways, I was afraid to cross him.

    Where did your love for classic films come in?

    As a child, NTA 5 aired BBC adaptations of classics like “Jane Eyre” (my favourite book), “Little Women” (my second favourite) and “Oliver Twist”. It made me love the classics even more. I also grew up watching great films like “The Sound of Music”, “The Thief of Baghdad” and “My Fair Lady”. 

    After reading about the history of motion pictures in an encyclopaedia in JSS 2, I wanted to watch all the films mentioned in it. Over the years, I’ve been able to. I especially enjoyed the film noirs. I love the feeling of entering another era, and it’s been helpful now when I need to escape. Today’s films, most of which are remakes of the classics, just don’t compare.

    RELATED: Nollywood Keeps Doing Remakes, So We Ranked Them From Best to Worst

    How did you transition to actually writing your own stuff?

    The more books I read, and films I watched, the more I longed to create my own stories. But I didn’t consider actually writing until I started reading Enid Blyton’s books, my first inspiration to write children’s stories. I was about eight when my father bought one for me, “The Three Wishes, and other stories”. I think I was 15, when I first wrote anything. It was a three-stanza poem about the sea, and I sadly no longer have a copy. My first two books were published by Lantern Books. 

    How did that go?

    It’s not easy to write for kids because you have to learn what they like, how they think, and keep the language simple. I submitted a manuscript of ten children’s stories in 2003. They were published in 2006 as two separate books. I was so happy when the physical copies were placed in my hands. But my third book wasn’t published till late 2018.

    Have you written anything for film?

    My first attempt at a film script was when I was at Federal College of Education (FCE), Osiele, Abeokuta. I showed it to a friend, but while he said it was well-written, he thought it was controversial because it talked about cultism. I haven’t made a second attempt.

    Would you still offer it for adaptation to film one day?

    I pray so. It would the pinnacle of my writing career.

    And your romantic life so far?

    I’ve only been in three brief relationships, and they all happened when I was 19. In fact, I would hardly call them “relationships”. I’m ashamed of the first and third because I thought I was in love. The second, I knew, was real, but I was too immature to handle it well. I haven’t tried again since.

    I really don’t want to talk about it; all three were humiliating mistakes. I’ve forgotten the whole thing and moved on with my life, happily single.

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