• As told to Steffi O.

    How the journey to debt began

    I would’ve never believed that at 21 I’d find my first love and be in the middle of crawling my way out of a debt of ₦7.9 million. But that was me in 2019; broke, failing at school and deeply in love.

    It all started when I got into university in 2014. I was 16 and studying a course I didn’t plan to. I didn’t want to be home for an extra year, so I decided to go in but focus on starting some kind of business. I read a lot of marketing and psychology books hoping to learn a few things about money. The main hurdle was raising the actual funds to begin. 

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    I didn’t want to ask my parents for help. They were giving me ₦20k every month, and I wanted to find a way to make it work. It helped that items like sardine weren’t priced like gold at the time. Then, there were a few months of getting free food from at least one girl every day. But that lover boy phase crashed when I had two women wanting a lot more than the occasional make-out after a meal.

    I was a church boy who’d never had sex. I just had a fine face and a deep voice. When it came down to offing pant, I was a clueless guy. So I fled.

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    Getting into forex trading and slowly digging myself into a rabbit hole

    By my second year, my GP completely tanked. I was struggling with a second-class lower grade, and honestly, I was more interested in figuring out forex. I’d gotten into social media marketing and made some money after managing my church’s account. The little money I’d saved up from that and my allowance was decent enough to start trading forex with. 

    The exchange rate wasn’t bad. I earned $150 in four months from the initial ₦100k I put in. Compounding the interest took it to $1000 by the end of the year. I made enough money to rent an apartment close to uni by 2015. In my mind, I’d struck gold.

    The next year, I wanted to expand my capital by getting more people to invest. I had a friend who’d also been trading, so it made sense to work as partners to raise the cash. On a good day, we could both make at least 50% of our capital back. In a month, that stretched into 300% of whatever we put in to trade at the beginning of the month. But the illusion that we were making big money led us down a rabbit hole.

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    Expanding the business and doubling profits

    In our 19-year-old minds, we’d unlocked something major. We were sure we could get people to invest and guarantee a profit of 120% per year. Compared to bank rates, it was like striking a pot of gold. 

    In 10 weeks, we raised ₦4.7 million from 12 people. I got my dad to put in some money, and some clients from my social media management gigs. The rookie mistake? Thinking that more money meant more profit in such a volatile system. 

    At first, I was trading $50 a day to make 50% back. But with more money, I was putting in at least $1000 a day with a higher risk of losing money on a bad market day. I was doing that with too little time to recuperate because of the ridiculous profit margin I promised people. I practically built my own death trap.

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    But things were going well before I caught on. In a little over a year, we made about ₦11 million and sorted out our investors with a million to spare. A couple of people wanted us to keep their capital and roll it over for the next year. 

    I decided to diversify the money into starting a logistics business while we traded on the side. I did a bit of angel investing in small start-ups and bargained for a profit. Life was pretty good in 2018.

    We had more people join the investment plan and that took the initial capital from ₦4.7 to ₦7.9 million. With everything going on, in my 20-year-old mind, I was balling. I’d even gotten into a relationship. But she was more of a trophy girlfriend because I’d call like once in three days. I felt the money was good enough to keep her happy. 

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    From grace to the absolute ghetto

    In a flash, 2018 moved from my best year to a nightmare. First, I found out my girlfriend had been cheating on me with one of my closest friends. Over the next six months, profits drastically dropped on forex. The logistics business was holding up until the biker had an accident and wrecked our bike. I didn’t even know where to start.

    The biggest blow was realising my partner had been gambling with the money. It made sense because every time our monthly profits dropped, he would have an excuse for why he couldn’t show me the books. And I was taking the lamba for six months. Eventually, he owned up to putting the money up for bets, hoping to make double for himself.

    That’s how I saw myself losing out on all the profit I’d anticipated. No business, my first serving of breakfast and a debt of ₦7.9 million to crawl my way out of.

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    Cutting my losses

    In 2019, I had to cut back on my big boy spending. I packed my bags back to my family’s house. My grades were completely messed up, so let’s not even talk about school. 

    All I had in savings was $1000. And since I’d personally brought in all the investors, I had to ask for a year to figure out how to pay back their capital. Everything was on me. At that point, I wasn’t even going to class anymore. I just wanted to write my exams and leave school. 

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    My whole world was practically crumbling, with my integrity on the line. I didn’t want to make the money back through forex because I was traumatised by everything that had already gone down. The only thing I could do was ask my aunt for a job at a firm. But with those earnings, I was looking at paying them back in three years. I felt trapped.

    Then, in September, I met her.

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    In debt and in love

    Look, I knew I couldn’t be thinking about love at that point. But I can’t explain why I wanted to get close to her when we met at my faculty. I just did. I played it safe because I didn’t know how to handle being so broke and trying to get with a babe.

    The first thing I did was focus on being her friend. She was smart and probably top of her class. I on the other hand was praying I’d get to graduate and survive what I was going through. But when I finally got her number in December, I probably spoke to her every single day. She made everything better. The long days weren’t as overwhelming and she knew how to get me talking for a long time.

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    Broke and being a better lover

    The truth is, being so broke made me a better lover. In my previous relationship, I could afford a fancy date that I felt made up for my weeks of absence. But this time, it was down to who I was as a person. It was a lot of work, but with this girl, I didn’t have a choice.

    One thing’s for sure, I thank God for Chicken Republic in my life because that’s where I took her on what we could call our first date. To spice things up, I’d switch between places I could spend ₦5k at the most. And on the days I couldn’t afford anything, I’d cook for her — yes, she survived. 

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    Maybe that’s the simplicity of university love. Being broke and in love wasn’t impossible if I could balance it out with being present for her.

    The issue with this Nollywood spin-off of love in the trenches is I wasn’t willing to commit to the boyfriend tag. I knew she liked me. I mean, who sees a guy flying a bike to almost every date location and sticks around? I just couldn’t imagine dating someone as amazing as her without being able to take her to fast-food chain restaurants. I was too proud, and I knew at some point, she’d want more than I could offer.

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    Our first kiss and miss

    I hadn’t told her I was in debt and flunking out of school at this point. But after our first kiss, I decided it was time to own up. It had been four weeks of seeing each other non-stop already. But before I could lay it all on the table, she cut in with the biggest blow I’d gotten in a while. It turned out that all the while we were together, this babe was in a relationship. And she was coming clean because of our kiss too.

    I’d never been so torn on what to do. But I didn’t want to give my emotions away. I think the dumbest part was that I didn’t actually care she had a boyfriend. Where was he in the last month of us seeing every day? Clearly, she was over the guy.

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    I gave her some space to figure things out. And I took the break to crawl my way out of half the money I owed. I was aggressively trading crypto and went ham on freelancing for the whole year. Nothing else mattered at that point. I was 21, barely making any money for myself and felt trapped in my life. If I could get a grip, then her boyfriend didn’t matter.

    By the end of 2020, her relationship ended. I wasn’t even applying pressure. Everything just scattered on its own. But I wanted to give her time to heal before jumping in to ask her out. I offered to drop her off at the airport when she needed to travel. I called occasionally but we texted almost every day. I didn’t give her too much space so she’d know I was serious about her.

    At this point, I owed my last ₦150k. And I told her about the debt. She didn’t seem unsettled by it, but we talked about how much the next year of my life would be focused on recovering from the loss.

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    The uncertainty of loving in your 20s

    Honestly, I’m happy I found this woman at the lowest point of my 20s. I don’t know if she’d had any doubts along the way, but being able to gather the  ₦7.9 million in three years makes me trust that I can figure things out and make a life for us. 

    I can’t deny that it’s been easy because she’s out of school, and I’m taking one last course to wrap things up. She’s even off for her Master’s soon. It’s been nine months of officially dating and we’ve found some sort of balance. Of course, money is still an integral part of creating memories. But we’re also the type of people who are happy strolling down the crazy streets of Lagos to find perfectly fried yam and akara to pair with a wacky Youtube video.

    Can our love stand the test of being in very different phases of life? I’m only 23, so I’m mostly hoping. The only thing I know for now is that I found love when I didn’t think I was worth loving.

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  • It’s been a week since payday, and I’ve spent every day since then looking at my account balance, trying to figure out where my monthly reward for capitalism went. I have no idea what happened to it. And if you’re anything like me, you don’t remember what happened to yours either. If you’re being sincere, you’re definitely one of these seven babes when money hits your account.

    1. The remote worker hopping cafes

    Remote work is great until you realise that you’ve convinced yourself that you need a change of environment every other week to focus. The next thing you know, you’re clocking in 9-5 every day at yet another bougie cafe, buying a thimble of coffee for ₦6702. That’s an average of ₦180k by the end of the month on caffeine water alone. 

    Is that really the life you signed up for? 

    2. The gym babe who’s really deceiving herself, not us

    You won’t let us see road on Snapchat with your “grass smoothies and avocado porridge for breakfast” posts. You have all the equipment and impractical gym wear for working out. Be honest, though. How many times have you actually worked out?

    You’re spending your life savings buying stylish workout clothes and also have a gym membership that keeps getting automatically renewed every month. What’s going on, girl? Start off with a skipping rope, and work your way up to the gym, okay?

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    3. The enjoyment minister

    You’re the designated enjoyment minister and sugar mummy who is always down for a good time. You deserve the title of Pasta Queen because of the small fortune you spend on Lagos restaurant bolognese every month. Your mantra is “YOLO,” and you keep screaming it every chance you get, but deep down, you know it’ll end in tears. 

    4. Dora the explorer

    You’re always on the move. Any small thing, you’ve posted, “Catch flights, not feelings.” This is where all your money goes. If there’s any small stress in life, we can’t even console you because you’ll already be on a plane to your next destination and there’s no network. Well done, ma.

    5. The boss babe with a huge wardrobe

    You’re the 9-5 babe with power suits in every colour. Kate Henshaw’s character in Blood Sisters has nothing on you when it comes to insane outfits. The number of bags in your wardrobe can probably fund someone’s election campaign. You never fail to be the hottest in a room, but you have to admit that you have a huge shopping problem.  For the love of God, get help before you end up homeless.

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    6. The bone-straight mama

    You were Todrick Hall’s muse when he wrote his hit song, Wig. There’s no wig you don’t own, and I’m lowkey here for it. But also, are you possessed? How many bone-straight wigs can you own? Once money hits your account,  you’ll start attacking Instagram wig vendors left and right.. Please, rest.

    7. The aspiring chef

    If you’re not baking, you’re experimenting with a new recipe you saw on Youtube. Your middle name should be “Plenty Spice” because tell me why you have Himalayan rock salt and oregano in your kitchen. Your dream is to host a revival of Maggi Family Menu. Sisi Yemmie no do pass you. 

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    Zikoko is launching a new series where we explore those friendships, familial and romantic relationships that are no longer sailing.

  • There was a time I thought I couldn’t survive without eating roasted catfish. Gone are those days, my dear. With the way prices are going up, I’m convinced that I don’t need meat or fish in my food again. How about you though? Here are the foods ten Nigerians are cancelling for the sake of their account balances.

    1. “I’ve convinced myself that corned beef is too unhealthy to be almost ₦2k.”

    Ebere, corned beef

    Everyone talks about how expensive sardine is, but how about its cousin, corned beef? In 2015, I could eat it with every meal because the big can was just about ₦500. If I was frying eggs, cooking jollof rice, or just looking for something to munch, I’d add corned beef. Now, not even the smallest can of corned beef is ₦500. It’s triple the price, and I’ve convinced myself that it’s too unhealthy to eat. This isn’t life sha.

    2. “It’s not like my salary doubled, so why am I still buying grapes?”

    Uche, grapes

    I’m the kind of mum who wants her kids to have fruits every day. I stay in Abuja, and at some point, I could buy apples and grapes for my two kids for ₦4000, and it would last two weeks. Now, I spend the same amount for half the quantity. It’s not like my salary doubled since January 2022, so how can I keep up? I’m convinced they can do without grapes. After all, Ribena has vitamins too. At least, a carton can last for two weeks. 3.

    3. “I really don’t need shrimps to survive.”

    Lanre*, shrimps

    Shrimps used to be my go-to seafood. There was a time I couldn’t live without them, but look at me now, thriving in Bubu’s economy. Last year, a small portion of shrimps was ₦1200, but in a matter of months, they’re going for ₦1900. That’s a no for me, please.

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    4. “I can’t look at the price of turkey without getting angry.”

    Pam*, turkey

    The price of turkey has doubled in the last two years. I thought not eating it would be the death of me, but seeing how much it costs makes me so angry now. I spent ₦3600 the last time I closed my eyes to buy a kilogram of turkey. I can’t keep doing that. Since chicken breasts cost the same thing, I’ve decided that it’s a healthier option for me.

    5. “I don’t mind if soda kills me.”

    Linda*, black Bullet and 5Alive Berry Blast

    Black Bullet once retailed for ₦350. The moment the price reached ₦800, my alcoholism was cured right away. The other thing is 5Alive Berry Blast. I would drink it every time, forming “it’s healthier than soda.” When it reached ₦500, I realised that soda can kill me, I don’t mind.

    6. “I went from eating steak bi-weekly to only monthly.”

    Maxwell*, steak

    I used to buy steak bi-weekly for about ₦7k – ₦15k, from supermarkets around Lagos. Now, I buy it online, and to be fair, the price isn’t significantly cheaper than in the stores. Also, I can’t keep eating it every other week, so I’m down to just once a month. 

    7. “I can’t think of buying suya anymore.”

    Chinwe, suya

    There was a time I could get a stick of suya for ₦500. Right now, that amount buys like six small pieces of suya, and that’s if the vendor likes you. They don’t even garnish it with onions and cabbage anymore. How am I supposed to drink garri without decent suya? Even the milk I’m trying to maintain is getting so expensive.

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    8. “Until the price comes down, I’ll live without plantain.”

    Chris, plantain

    In 2016, ₦200 could get me enough plantain to eat with beans, and still cook into a porridge the next day. It’s 2022, and I can’t even buy a banana for ₦200. I didn’t actually stop buying plantain with my money until ₦1000 became useless though. I love plantain, but I’ll wait for the price to come down.

    9. “Granola for ₦3k can’t work for me.”

    Chuka, granola and pringles

    How pringles went from ₦600 to ₦1200 in a matter of months still shocks me. I can’t even imagine swiping my card to pay for it anymore, so it’s been almost six months since I had any. Then, there’s the granola that I used to eat for breakfast every day of my life. When it went up to ₦3k, I knew that the mallam’s bread and fried eggs close to my office were good enough for me.

    10. “I’ll fully break up with shawarma when my guy starts selling to me at the normal price.”

    Mark*, shawarma

    In 2019, I was working in Yaba, Lagos, and shawarma cost ₦400 or ₦500. I’d buy at least three almost every night! In 2020, it jumped to ₦800 or ₦1k, and I stopped buying so much. Eventually, it went up to ₦2k in Lagos, and by the time I moved to Anambra in 2021, it cost almost the same there. My only saving grace now is one particular shawarma guy. He sells to me at a special price, two for ₦1600 each, because I’m consistent. The day he decides not to sell, it’s all over.

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  • The Tinder Swindlers and Anns of the world are scattered amongst us. Sometimes they’re disguised as Instagram vendors, other times as friends we’ve known for a long time. In this article, eight Nigerians shared their stories of being scammed. Trust Nigerians to bring their own werey to the mix. 

    1. “It could have been jazz, but I’ll never know”

    — Ben, 28

    In  2005, I was 10 and living in Mushin. My grandmother sent me on an errand. She used to sell provisions and wanted me to go buy coconut snacks we used to eat back then — I’ve forgotten what it’s called. She gave me ₦1k and I was off. The whole day started on a bad note: first, an okada hit me while I tried to cross the road from my house. It wasn’t serious, so I kept going. At the next junction, the same thing almost happened again. I was already stressed. 

    As I got to the market, an elderly woman stopped me. She asked me to help her buy groundnuts while she held my money for me. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I obliged. By the time I came back, the woman had gone. I didn’t even know what to do. When I went back home, grandma just told me it was jazz. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but it was my first taste of the lies Nigerians tell.

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    2. “I searched for the store for hours and never found it”

    — Annie, 25

    In 2016, I suffered because of an Instagram page. I was in 300 level and there was a promo for wigs happening. It was a buy one, get one free promo. The wigs cost ₦20k each, so getting two for ₦20k didn’t seem like a bad deal. I got four of my friends to join me so we could rock the new wigs together. So as a group, we paid ₦100k. The vendor told me the package would arrive in three weeks max. It never did. I had four girls on my neck and it wasn’t funny. I kept calling and sending the vendors texts. 

    When she finally responded, she told me to come to the address on her page. She mentioned losing someone in her family and struggling to stay focused. I understood. Next thing, I was on my way to Lagos Island. I got to the address and the building was just a warehouse. I trekked around for at least an hour hoping to find a building with her store name. Nothing. I kept calling the number and it wasn’t reachable. That’s how I had ₦80k gbese to cover.

    3. “She tried to frame me for fraud”

    — Yetunde, 53

    In 1999, I worked at the bank. I was 26 and quite naive at the time. As one of the youngest people at my bank, it was easy for me to make friends. I got closer to one of the older women. She seemed very interested in my life and gave me tips on getting through hectic days at the bank. Sometimes, we’d end up hanging out on the weekends. She seemed pretty harmless. 

    Who would have thought she’d try to frame me for fraud? She felt I was getting too close to one of the customers. But rather than talking to me about it, she went straight to the branch manager and told him I had plans to defraud the bank with my lover. She claimed I had been signing off on unauthorised cheques to grant him access to more money than he had. Why did she do this? I have no clue. I only got out of the situation because of a co-worker that knew the customer personally. When he heard the matter, he spoke up for me. If that didn’t happen, I would have lost my job.

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    4. “I can’t tell my kids I lost ₦3 million to crypto”

    — Lucy, 46

    My kids had been telling me about crypto and I decided to try it in 2021. I didn’t want to ask them for help though. I felt I could figure it out on my own. A friend had gifted me ₦3 million, so I decided to give it to a guy that always talked about crypto. A month went by and there was no feedback from the guy. I asked him what was going on and he just kept putting me off, saying something about the dip. It’s been a year and I haven’t heard from him. He conveniently resigned while I went on leave. I didn’t make too much noise because it wasn’t the money I worked for. I didn’t tell even told my kids because I’d never hear the last of it.

    5. “Instagram hackers fooled us”

    — Sandra, 24

    My mum and I knew someone on Instagram. He was a direct friend and randomly posted about getting ₦20k for ₦5k. He wasn’t into money doubling, he just claimed he had done it with some guy. I sent a dm and he told me it was legit. Since we knew him, it was easy to trust. When I sent the money, he also asked for ₦5k bank charges to send the money. At this point, we should have noticed the red flags, but we didn’t. We sent the money. After a few minutes of texting back and forth on when the money would be sent, he blocked me. Turned out that the guy we knew had been hacked. 

    6. “I thought he was in danger, so I sent the money”

    — Daniel, 30

    A friend called claiming to be at the police station. He sounded disoriented and needed ₦15k to settle the officers with credit or cash. The number didn’t have a name, but I felt the voice was familiar. I didn’t even think twice. I bought the airtime and sent it straight to the phone. About a week later, I saw the friend I assumed was at the other side of the call and asked him if he was okay after the “incident”. He was confused.

    7. “Computer Village has always been a mad place”

    — Daniel, 37

    10 years ago, I went to Computer Village to buy a phone. I met a guy on the street and we settled for ₦38k. He handed me the phone. When the guy counted the money, he was claiming it wasn’t complete. So he asked me to hand him the phone while I re-counted to confirm. I did and as expected, it was complete. When I told him, he said it was a mistake on his part. He handed me back the phone and disappeared into the crowd. When I finally checked the phone as I walked back to take a bus, the phone pack was loaded with dirt. I still don’t understand how he switched phones so quickly. I couldn’t even shout. The whole place was crowded.

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    8. “The bus driver took off with my change”

    — Yusuf, 28

    Just this Tuesday, I was on my way to work. The bus fare from my house is ₦100 and I had ₦700 on me. I wanted more change so I gave the driver the ₦500 rather than the ₦200 note. When I handed him the money, I was focused on my phone, chatting away. I absent-mindedly asked for my change, but the driver didn’t answer. I wasn’t close to my bus stop yet, so I didn’t stress. I went back to chatting. When I got to my bus stop, I didn’t remember about the change until he was driving off. The one time I needed Lagos traffic, the whole roads were free. That’s how I ended up leaving ₦400 with the man — money that was meant to be for lunch. I’m still so angry.

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  • After the Nigerian government and people who eat semo, inflation is up there among the reasons living in Nigeria is a struggle. The others are heat, fuel scarcity or the fact that you don’t own a pet goat

    If you’re unfamiliar with the term, inflation describes the increasing price of goods and services. When people’s salaries aren’t increasing, that’s where the real problem is. In more Nigerian terms, inflation is the reason sardine is gold. In the past three years, the price of sardine has moved from ₦180 to ₦600. In the middle of all this, ₦10k in 2019 feels like ₦1k in 2022. Do you get the flow? Whenever prices skyrocket, that surge is an increase in inflation. 

    Leo Dasilva on Twitter: "Every time I turn on the news to see what's  happening in my country https://t.co/ufXAXsb9FB" / Twitter

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    So, how are business owners managing the ever-increasing cost of goods? In this article, eight small-business owners talk about navigating inflation.

    1. “Shipping and clearing fees are the absolute ghetto”

    — Wigmaker

    I’ve been running my wig business since 2017. Typically, I order hair from Vietnam, so the value of Naira affects me badly. Since 2017, the exchange rate has moved from ₦300 to $1 to about ₦360 to $1 in 2019 and now, we’re trading at ₦450-₦500 to $1. 

    In 2019, when I shipped goods worth 10kg, I was charged $5-$7 per kg. It wasn’t cheap, but at least it was easier to cover the cost than it is now. I could buy the weaves at ₦40k and add in ₦30k-₦40k to sell at profit to also cover my shipping and clearing cost. Now, I can barely do that. 

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    In 2021, my shipping cost moved from a maximum of $7 to $12 for the same 10kg of hair. There were times I had to work at an exchange rate of $570-$620. That’s almost double my initial cost for shipping and clearing goods in 2019. I struggled to cover the cost and, my profit margin plummeted. From buying weaves at ₦40k in 2019, it’s doubled to ₦90k by the middle of 2021. Now, I sell based on pre-orders. It’s the only way to avoid buying so many weaves and selling very few in a matter of months. Honestly, the situation is tough.

    2. “I’ve gone from buying butter at ₦8k to ₦ 18k”

    — Baker

    Right now, raw materials have doubled or tripled in price. For instance, in 2018 I used to buy a tub of butter for ₦8k- ₦ ₦10k. Now, I buy the tub for ₦18-₦20k. Raw materials are also scarce because brands can’t afford to manufacture at the same rate. People now produce counterfeit or low-quality products to maintain customers. In 2022, it takes a good baker to identify the fake products in the market.

    I’ve lost customers because of the review in my price, and getting more has been so difficult. In 2018, people typically ordered cakes and small chops for fun. Now? No one orders a cake or box of small chops for leisure. If it’s not an important event like a birthday or anniversary, demand is quite low. 

    My profit margin has significantly decreased. It’s either I’m covering the cost on my end, or not getting customers at all. Even when Nigerians order, it’s budget cakes — ₦10k, ₦12k — anything more doesn’t happen as much. I can’t even think of expanding as a business. Beyond the poor market, I can’t think of buying an industrial oven with my account balance. The business will suffer.

    Chidubem on Twitter: "He is what you call best friend goals! Even in chaos  he dey your back 😂❤️ https://t.co/czAQMYs8AW" / Twitter

    3. “There are no customers for us to cover the cost of rent”

    — Salon owner

    Two years after losing my bank job, I decided to open up a saloon in 2013. I wasn’t interested in making hair, I only wanted to sub-let to hairdressers and barbers. The rent was about ₦600k, and I was sub-letting for ₦20k per month. People flocked at the offer — I got six hairdressers, a nail technician and two barbers. As the years went by, the rent increase. I moved from paying ₦600k to ₦800k in five years. 

    By then, the price for each space gradually increase. 2018, half of the hairdressers couldn’t cover the cost and left. We went from busy weekdays and weekends to barely any customers during peak hours on a Saturday. Eventually, we were down to three people. Currently, my rent is ₦800k. My profit margin moved from nearly ₦150k in 2013 to barely ₦100k between the three people currently in the saloon. Some months I have to overlook the payment because honestly, there are no customers for them. 

    RELATED: #NairaLife: She’s 22, and She’s Changing Careers for the Third Time

    4. “To keep my customers, I sell cooking gas based on how buoyant a person looks”

    — Gas retailer

    In 2009, I started selling cooking gas. When I started, gas was selling at ₦2k for 12.5kg and ₦9k-₦10k for the 50kg. Now, 12.5kg is going at ₦7950 and the 50kg is ₦31,800. That’s even when the gas is filled. For the empty cylinders, the 12.5kg was ₦6k-₦8k, while the 50kg cylinder was ₦26k-28k. Now, those 50kg cylinders are sold from ₦40k upwards. How do the retailers gain any profit? My profit margin was at least ₦1k in 2009 and relatively stayed the same because customers won’t buy if the gas is too expensive. So I’m earning the same thing in an economy where ₦1k is like ₦100. 

    To push it up a bit, I started selling based on how buoyant a customer looked. If you’re a rich man or woman, I’ll add the ₦500 another person can’t pay inside your cost. Since the economy doesn’t favour me, I have to find a way to keep customers.

    5. “Fruits are like gold in the market”

    — Juice seller

    When I started selling fresh juice with my mum, we were selling a bottle for as low as ₦350-400. That was 2020. While we were using recycled bottles, we were making a profit of ₦200 per bottle. Then we began to make branded bottles and it dropped to about ₦120-₦150. It’s been two years since we started and we had to review our prices in January 2020. Between the fire incident at the store and the cost of fruits like pineapples and oranges, it was inevitable. The plan was to always maintain our price at ₦500 per bottle now, it’s going from ₦1k-₦2k. With the cost of production, it’s impossible.

    6. “Stop swearing for tailors”

    — Fashion designer

    I’ve been a fashion designer since 2013. Although I took breaks in between to focus on my family, I ran my business on the side. The cost of production has continuously, but this fuel scarcity has made my life miserable. My transformer blew and now I’m at the mercy of NEPA. When there’s no light, I still need to run my light machines, so buying fuel is inevitable. 

    Now, I’m buying fuel at ₦400 per litre and my earnings from the clothes I’m currently sewing, won’t cover that cost. Logistics is also expensive and customers aren’t patient enough to understand. In a matter of months, I’ve had to review my prices. I can’t even afford to buy an industrial machine I was able to afford in 2018. Now, it’s ₦140k — double the initial price. 

    Naija on Twitter: "Thread of old Nollywood memes🙂. Drop yours and check  the thread to cop some. https://t.co/3verOpJ7a9" / Twitter

    7. “Customers need to understand, we’re in a pandemic of our own”

    — Restaurant owner

    In 2019, I started my restaurant business in university. By March 2020, I was able to expand into a bigger space in uni, but the pandemic shut us down within weeks. Deliveries were the only way to keep running. At that point, prices of foodstuffs were already going up, but I didn’t want to review my prices. Students were our main customers, so increasing prices would have been detrimental. 2021 was a whole other level for us. We went from paying about ₦300 per litre for diesel in 2020 to about ₦400 in 2021. Last week it was ₦510. Now, it’s ₦555. That’s more than a 50% increase on diesel alone. Imagine the cost of electricity bill or foodstuff?

    While the prices go up, we still have the government coming down our throats with tax. The situation is appalling. It feels like business owners are going through another pandemic on their own. 

    8. “I have to pay my staff out of pocket”

    — Hairdresser

    I’ve had a shop at Garki market, Abuja, for ten years. The service charge used to be ₦15k per year in 2012 and now, it’s ₦30k. The saving has been my landlord not increasing rent. However, keeping up with my staff’s salary is difficult. When I got my first set of staff in 2015, I was paying them ₦12k- ₦19k depending on their location. Now, it’s not even significant to how much they spend on transport. I’ve had to review their salary to ₦20k- ₦25k. In the bad months, it’s out of my pocket.

    ALSO READ: NaireLife: This 36-Year-Old Lecturer Is Also a Photographer, Marketer And Full-Time Husband

  • These loan apps are on a mission to disgrace you with those bulk messages they’re sending to your contacts. Fear not brethren, because as always, we’re here with a solution. Any of these ten ideas will help you avoid embarrassment and hold onto the money you borrowed without paying back.

    1. Deny it

    Look, there’s a possibility that this thing may not work for you, and if that’s the case, it’s clearly your village people. The next step for you should be to deny everything those messages said. All you need is a broadcast message that highlights your integrity accuse those apps of blasphemy. Post the message everywhere and look away. 

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    2. Hack them

    This is another reason to be a tech bro and we’ve already shown you how. So copy-paste some code and see your name disappear from their system. You’re welcome.

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    3. Use a fake ID

    Trust me, Werey dey disguise can work here. Just use your enemy’s driver’s license and passport. Frustrate your enemies and cash out in their name; that’s how to kill two birds with one stone.

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    4. Get a lawyer

    That your cousin in 300 Level studying law is your best option. Get them involved and drag those beeshes to court for defaming your character and tarnishing your image. 

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    5. Buy the dip

    When you hear crypto guys saying, “Buy the dip, buy the dip,” it’s actually not a joke. Use that loan to buy the dip and cash out. You may end up being rich enough to japa and block everyone on your contact list. It’s called starting afresh.

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    6. Don’t care

    Take a page from Uncle Bubu’s lesson notes. Nigeria is in debt, so who are you to pay up? Have you ever seen Uncle Bubu come and explain the situation to us? No. So forget about the messages and enjoy your life. 

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    7. Carry two odds

    If you didn’t understand this term, skip to the next option. This one is for the big boys on the streets. You can get ahead of this thing and pay back with one small bet. Make sure it’s not Arsenal and you’ll probably be alright. If you lose, that’s your business. We’ve tried.

    10 Ways to Handle Loan Apps Trying to Disgrace You

    8. Diversify your loans

    You’re everywhere, but you’re nowhere at the same time. How many people can believe you borrowed money from five different apps? A boss like you? That’s an insult you won’t stand for.

    9. Enter politics

    Nigerian politicians have hacked the whole system of broad daylight robbery. Join them. All you need to do is announce your intention to run for President. Your tag line should be Representing the youths.  When you win, the rest is history. 

    10. Start a GoFundMe

    Nigerians can be stingy, but a good story will get you the money you need. We can’t guarantee that someone won’t catch you, but at least you would have collected the money to pay back the loan in time.

  • If you find yourself in any of these seven categories, just know that you’re one step away from doing bambiala on the streets with a bucket.

    1. You’re always outside

    This is a safe space, so be honest. Are you really outside for premium enjoyment or did your landlord send you packing?

    2. You’re not paying tithe

    Don’t allow Mummy G.O catch you. Better pack the money to her church on Sunday so it can increase. By now, if you check the list of people already going to hell, you’re already there. But at least try and make sure you’re not going to suffer here too before you enter  hell fire.

    3. You’ve not done your 2021 appraisals yet

    If you’re a slave to capitalism, are you sure you’re safe this year? If things go south, do you have any savings or will you be spending 2022 under a bridge?

    4. You’re dating an Abuja big boy/girl

    You’re just one phone call away from lending them the money to lock down a hooge deal. Just make sure they’re not living in a borrowed car first because nobody will put money in your Gofundme.  

    5. Your read receipts are off

    If you can’t use your full chest to turn on your blue ticks, then you’re probably owing money you can’t return without suffering.

    .

    6. You dine in Lagos restaurants

    If you’re out on the streets of Lagos enjoying spaghetti bolognese and creamy pasta every week, you’re only one step away from packing your bags to the village.

    7. You can only imagine enjoyment

    In December you were shouting, ”Don’t worry about my destiny,” now, you can only afford memories of enjoyment. It is well.

  • Every single year you’re chasing the bag, but where are the millions in your account? While we understand that  you deserve that baby boy/baby girl lifestyle on a yacht in Dubai, we’re pretty sure at least one of these eight things have hooked your millionaire lifestyle somewhere. 

    1. African Mothers

    If you said no every time your mother said, “Come now, let me keep it for you,” we could have been on the Forbes list. You may have chopped slap or ended up homeless, but at least you would have kept the money for yourself.

    2. Data and airtime

    Everyday 1k here 2k here. Just hold your calculator and add up everything you’ve spent this week alone on data or airtime, that’s where the millions have been hiding in your life.

    3. You missed the dip

    When your mates were investing in crypto you were there explaining how everything is a scam and how you don’t believe in free money. Well, it’s another day of hardwork o, where are the millions?

    4. Last borns

    All they know how to do is beg, blackmail, enjoy your hard earned money buying rubbish, while disrespecting us. These are the thieves in our lives and they need to be destroyed.

    5. You’ve refused to be a sugar baby

    You’re forming, “I can’t, I can’t.” My dear, that’s why your account can’t as well. Nobody can shame the shameless on these streets. Better come outside and collect this money with your full chest.

    6. Baba Dudu and Goody Goody

    You may have been competing with Dangote if you didn’t spend all the five-five naira you received on sweets as a child. 

    Its another day without the millions you deserve in your account and here are the ten reasons why. Tag someone that's on this table as well.

    7. Your father

    Where was he when his mates were chopping from the national cake? Just go and ask him, then fight for your inheritance.

    8. Your village people are alive and well

    May your destiny be released from the clutches of the people that have said no to the millions in your life. You can connect with Mummy G.O. for more results.

    9. No savings to your name

    Your response to everything is, “I only live once. if I perish, I perish.” I hope you can see the single digits in your bank account. My only advice is for you to buy those wooden kolos that only carpenters can open for you.

    10. Love

    Your millions have entered a well at this point, and I don’t know if we can find it again. If you’re not going to eat at one fancy restaurant, you’re out on the streets professing  love with gifts. I’m sure you’ve even booked your date for Valentine’s day. Continue.

  • There are some basic things that should be available at ATMs and since no one is talking about it, we have decided to highlight 8 of them in this article.

    1. Chairs

    Dear Nigerian banks, If you are going to have an atm gallery with just one atm working, providing chairs is the least you can do. You never know, while sitting down, more people might decide to save that last 1k instead of withdrawing it for shawarma.

    2. Ramps

    Of course, ramps should be available at ATMs you must always take into account your disabled customers, it’s a basic corporate social responsibility you owe your customers.

    3. Food trucks

    Sometimes the queue can be very long and if you step away for a second, Nigerians can almost break your head when you come back. Imagine holding hot amala in one hand and twenty thousand naira debit slip in the other. With these few points of ours, we hope we’ve been able to convince you to make this happen.

    4. Money doubler

    Honestly, this is an essential service all banks should make available at ATMs. When people withdraw their last cash, who wouldn’t want the option to double it for no extra fee of course? Banks should cover the extra cost with all the money they randomly collect for no reason.

    5. Umbrellas

    If asking for chairs is too much, surely this is a cheaper ask. The sun is always somehow hotter when money is leaving your account. Will they get stolen, possibly, but that’s not the point. Nigerians are a lot nicer when they aren’t standing under the hot sun.

    6. Wall socket

    The queues are always so long, this is the least banks can do, to be honest. Sometimes the brain can forget the account number you are supposed to transfer money to, so you type it into your phone. While waiting in the queue your phone goes off, that’s almost two hours of your life gone for no reason. Having a wall socket would make life better.

    7. Handkerchief dispenser

    All ATMs should come with this feature. As so as you eject your debit card, a handkerchief should come out with it so that you can clean your tears before spending that money you don’t have. Will people go there at night, pretending to withdraw so they can steal as many handkerchiefs as possible? Yes, but think of it as a way of creating jobs.

    8. Queue for old people

    These guys are the cause of all the drama and fights that happen at ATMs. The best solution is to give them a queue of their own so they can shout and demand respect from each other and society can be at peace again.


    [donation]

  • 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.

    This week’s Naira Life is brought to you by QuickCredit. With QuickCredit, you not only get the funds you need instantly, but you also get to pay back at the lowest interest rate in Nigeria.

    The first time the guy in this story tried to make money, he was beaten for it. Years later, he became a product manager and was slowly building up his wealth until a work mishap sent him out of a job and wiped out his life savings. Two years later, he’s building it back up and at $9800/month; it’s never been easier. 

    What’s your oldest memory of money?

    It dates back to 1994 when I was in primary three or four,  I stole ₦20 from my mum to buy some biscuits and sweets for a teacher so I could become their favourite student. I said it was from my mum. Unfortunately for me, the following week was Open Day and the teacher thanked my mum for the gifts. When we got home, she asked me to explain and I came clean. I got the beating of my life. 

    Wiun. Could you paint a picture of what it was like growing up?

    My mum was a teacher in the civil service and my dad was a jack of all trades. What both of them made wasn’t always enough for a family of eight. Things were especially tough during periods when the government owed my mum salaries or times when my dad’s businesses didn’t do so well. We were pretty much alternating between plenty and lack for the longest time.

    Do you remember the first time you made money?

    1997, and I was about 10 years old. I had friends who worked at the local market. They helped people carry their goods for a fee. I asked to follow them one day to observe how they worked. After watching for a while, I joined them. I made ₦16 on that evening and was so proud of myself. Unfortunately, one of my church members saw me and reported to my mum. I got another round of beating for “embarrassing the family and making people think we were hungry.”

    I don’t even remember what I used the money for anymore. But I stayed off trying to do anything for money until I got into university to study computer science. This was in 2005.

    What was the next thing you did for money?

    I helped someone write a math exam in the second semester of my first year, and I got ₦2k for it. I got over the guilt of what I had done when I got the money. For context, my allowance from home was ₦1k/month. 

    When I got to my second year, he introduced me to another guy who had missed out on school for the entire semester due to a personal tragedy. He was going to write six exams that semester, and I agreed to do it for ₦6k per course. That brought in ₦36k.

    I knew it was illegal and could get into a lot of trouble, so I pivoted into something different in my third year.

    What was this?

    I started a tutorial centre to teach students in the lower levels. The centre caught on, and I was always booked and busy during the exam periods. On the side, I was writing final year projects and seminar papers for final year students. On average, I was making more than ₦150k per semester. I did these things until I left university in 2011. By that time, I had about ₦1m in savings. 

    Hmm.

    One of my cousins was going to a university in the UK that year, and I started thinking about the possibility of going abroad for my master’s degree. He directed me to the affiliate centre that helped him with the whole process, and I went there to make enquiries. But I missed the floor and found myself at an I.T training centre. Somehow, the facilitator of the centre convinced me to get some certifications with them instead and showed me a pathway of how I could use this to get into tech. I thought it sounded good, so I paid for six certifications in software development and network engineering. It cost me ₦600k.

    The courses lasted for six months. The centre retained me as a facilitator after I finished my programme and paid me ₦15k/month. On the side, I was also looking for a better paying job, but nothing came until NYSC in 2012. 

    Two weeks before my service year ended, I got a job as a systems and server admin with a contractor doing some IT work for the government.

    How much was the pay?

    ₦90k. But I also had to be transferred to a state in the south-south. However, I was at the job for only three months. I resigned in May 2013. 

    Ah, why?

    I found out that my chances of growth were low. On my team, there were people who had been working there for two to three years and were still at the same income level they were when they joined. I didn’t want that for myself. I’ll admit that I made the decision because I had a bit of savings. ₦450k. 

    Fair enough. What came after?

    Unemployment. I was at home for five months. 

    Uh-oh.

    I was getting interviews but I either didn’t think the companies I was interviewing with were the right fit for me or they were offering me ridiculous salaries. I was bent on not accepting any offer below ₦100k and these companies were offering me ₦40k or ₦50k. 

    By the fifth month, I had burnt through my savings and had ₦70k left. I was beginning to realise that saving money only works if you’re earning. 

    Thankfully, a company reached out to me in October 2013. Someone at my last job had referred me to them. I got an offer almost immediately after I did my interview. They wanted me to come join them as IT support staff and my starting salary was ₦90k. Not the ₦100k I was looking for, but it was close. 

    I get that. How long did you spend there?

    Six months. I left in March 2014 after I got a better offer from an FMCG company. They brought me on as an IT lead and my salary was ₦150k. This was probably one of the most toxic places I’ve worked at. 

    Why, what happened?

    First, an IT lead was the highest role for the Nigerians who worked there. The supervisor positions and other superior roles went to foreigners. So, there was no opportunity for growth for me. I spent six months there and left in August 2014 after an argument with one of the supervisors. 

    Here’s where it got interesting: they didn’t accept my resignation. 

    Why not?

    A lot of the foreigners on the team were in violation of their visas, and they feared I would report them to immigration if I left like that. They gave me an offer instead: they would pay my salary for six months if I didn’t get another job within that time frame. I accepted it. 

    Sweet. 

    I got a new job lead at a fintech company about two weeks after I left. Two months and a series of interviews later, they offered me a senior IT role. My basic salary was ₦250k, but there was an extra ₦30k transport allowance, which brought my total monthly earnings to ₦280k. Another ₦150k was coming in from my last job. In total, I was earning ₦430k until November 2014. Somehow, my former workplace found out that I had gotten another job and stopped the payments. 

    Hehe. How did it go at the fintech company?

    Oh, it was great. I spent three years there. A lot of growth and learning happened there, so I wasn’t in a rush to leave. However, I never got a salary raise even once. It probably wouldn’t have mattered much, but I got married in 2015, so I had to earn more. Ultimately, it was one of the reasons I left. 

    Another fintech company had been trying to bring me on board, but I didn’t give them a lot of attention. I accepted their invitation to interview when I made a decision to leave the company I was with at the time. They liked me, and I got the job. Like that, my salary grew from ₦280k to ₦650k. It was a massive move I should have made earlier. 

    It does seem that way. 

    Haha. Apart from my salary, there was at least one bulk payout in every quarter of the year: leave allowance in March, performance bonus in June, Profit from the previous business year in September, and end of the year bonus in December. 

    Could you tell me a bit about how you navigated money at the time?

    I was saving 40% of my monthly salary. The remaining 60% was spread across other expenses, mostly household expenses and black tax. At the end of everything, my core savings was enough to cover house rent, which was ₦1.8m.

    The bonuses I got on the job went into investments. 

    What kind of investments?

    Bank investments. Treasury bills were hot and at an all-time high, bringing in 13% – 14% per year. I also had a fixed deposit account I was putting money into. By 2018, I had gathered ₦6m in core savings and investments. 

    Then something happened. 

    Uh-oh. 

    At the fintech where I worked, I was on a product team where we managed high network individuals. We helped them buy international portfolios and investments to reduce tax.

    Everything ran smoothly until December 2018. I got a call from work and was notified that the infrastructure we used to facilitate these transactions had been exposed. What had happened was that the systems could not verify if the transactions we had made on that day to the BDCs — who were the middlemen — were successful, so we ended sending money to these people more than twice. And these were large volumes of money — $30k here, $20k there, some were more than that. 

    By January 2019, we had recovered most of it. But the other BDC agents went underground with the money. The total debt that was on our head was $2m. 

    Ehn? This sounds like a nightmare. 

    It was. The affected  High Net Worth Individuals were on the company’s neck. Before long, the regulators got wind of it and everything spiralled out of control. My line manager resigned. I was next in line, so I had to be the fall guy. 

    When the regulators came knocking, they seized the assets of everyone on my team to recover the money. All the money I thought I had went up in smoke. 

    How much?

    About ₦8.2m. They also took two cars belonging to me and my wife and some pieces of land I had bought. I was at level 0.

    Damn. 

    The company asked me to resign, so I was without a job for the most part of 2019. Marrying my best friend saved me. My wife took over providing for the family on her ₦200k salary. 

    Seven other people were affected by the asset freezes, and we were fighting it in court. But I pulled out in 2019 because I realised how long court cases in Nigeria can drag on. I had to move on. 

    What did moving on look like for you?

    For starters, I had to figure out how to make rent in October. Thankfully, there was something to look forward to. 

    What was that?

    Before the whole situation started, I had been talking with some Chinese acquaintances about the possibility of bringing in Android POS machines into the country, and I had paid ₦700k for it. In March 2019, 10 POS machines were delivered to me. I had the infrastructure and configuration skills, but zero coding skills to integrate the POS into the Nigerian payment gateways and teach them how to read ATM cards. I went back to the same fintech company I worked at the previous year and convinced two friends to work on it with me, promising them 15% equity each. After five months, we figured it out. 

    Agent banking was already becoming popular in the country, so it wasn’t hard to find 10 agents. I got ₦120k in revenue from the 10 machines in the first month. It increased to ₦300k in the second month. 

    Then I ran into another problem.

    What was it this time?

    Regulators again. I got an email and they informed me that I was running the operation without a license. That’s how I was back to fighting for my life. I still had a relationship with the MD of the last fintech company I worked with, so I thought I could leverage it. After a series of back and forth, the company bought me out and paid me ₦10m for the POS machines and the solution I had built.

    Whew.

    I paid my guys ₦1.5m each per our equity agreement, ₦2m fine to the regulators and paid my rent, which had been due for a month. At the end of everything, I had ₦3m left. Things were beginning to look up again. 

    Did you ever get another job?

    I did in the same month. My former boss came through again and referred me to a company that needed somebody to manage their payment gateway. The salary was ₦350k. 

    It was less than what I earned at my last 9-5, but it was either that or rely on the ₦3m I had left. I spent only three months there and left in January 2020. The people there weren’t open to change and preferred to stick with their old ways of doing things. 

    The same week I left, I got a call from an oil and gas company. They were looking to build a product for efficient fuelling for their fleet offshore and someone had referred me to them. I got a six-month contract as senior product manager for the product. ₦750k per month. When I left, I had built my savings to about ₦5m. 

    Then I got another job. 

    Tell me about it. 

    I wasn’t even keen on another 9-5, but it was a digital bank and the offer was good. ₦1.3m. It’s funny when I think about it now, but it took me about eight years to hit ₦1m every month. 

    Inside life. 

    The product I was building went live in December, but I stayed two extra months before I left in February 2021. The plan was to take some time off, build and ship my own product. But I couldn’t refuse the next offer I got. 

    Ghen Ghen. 

    One of the VPs of a digital bank in South America DMed on Twitter and asked if I was interested in a senior product manager role at the bank. I got an offer from them in April 2021.

    How much?

    $11k gross. $9800 net. That’s about ₦4.9m per month. 

    Omo.  How do you move money in and out now?

    Every month, I take $2k out for my monthly running costs, $2900 for short term investments, and I leave the rest in my international bank account. My wife and I should leave the country before the end of the year because of my new job, so I’m saving for when the time comes. 

    Let’s start with a breakdown of your running costs. 

    This is not an exhaustive list, but I imagine it looks something like this. 

    What about your short term investments?

    Every month, $900 is spread across different crypto investments. $400 goes into my PiggyVest for any emergency expenses. I put $1k in mutual funds, and this is to raise the tuition for my two kids when it’s time every three months. I also put $600 across a couple of agritech investments. 

    What has all of this done to your perspective about money?

    First, your risk appetite is directly proportional to how much you’re earning. I’ve realised that the more I earn, the more my interest in investments grows. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have considered investing in crypto. 

    Also, whoever says money doesn’t give happiness isn’t being fair. I would know because I was at my lowest point in 2019, and I know what that did to me. I developed high blood pressure during those months that I now have to manage for the rest of my life. 

    I’m sorry about that. 

    Thank you. I’m fine. But perhaps the most important shift is realising that people who depend on you will manage without you if you don’t have money. For the entire time I was down to zero, calls from members of my extended family were non-existent. The good thing about that is it’s now easier to say no to them when they come knocking. So, maybe don’t kill yourself so others could live. 

    How much do you think you should be earning now?

    I don’t think I should be earning a salary at this stage. I feel like I should have launched a couple of products in the market and earn money based on their market valuations. That’s one of the things I’m looking to do in the next five years. 

    Let’s come back to the present for a bit. Is there anything you want but can’t afford?

    I’m big on family houses. I’ve been thinking about a building that would accommodate my family, my parents, and my siblings and their families. I know the location I want for this project, but I’d have to buy old properties from the current owners and tear them down, and that alone will cost about ₦90m. It’s a huge investment I can’t take on yet. 

    That’s an ambitious project. Is there anything you’ve bought recently that’s improved the quality of your life?

    An air fryer. I bought it for health reasons, and it’s been absolutely worth it. It cost only ₦120k. 

    Ah, nice. Is there a question you think I should have asked but didn’t?

    My financial happiness. 

    I was coming to that, but let’s hear it. 

    It’s a six. 2019 was tough, but it could have been worse. I’m also glad that I’m bouncing back. I’m not 100% fulfilled yet because I haven’t built and shipped a product for myself — all the ones I’ve worked on have been for companies I’ve worked with. When this finally happens, I’m moving up to an eight or nine. 

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