Quizzes

Stacks

Shows

Podcasts

Newsletters

Naira Life

Love Life

Hustleprint

Love Currency

Sunken Ships

What She Said

My Bro

So You Don’t Have To

Interview With…

Zikoko Memes

Jollof Road

Cholera Outbreak Update

Follow our socials

  • If you’ve ever sat at a restaurant in Lagos and felt like your bill was somehow flexing higher than the prices on the menu, congrats, you’ve met the tax squad: VAT, Consumption Tax, and Service Charge.

    Since 2009, Lagos State has charged a 5% consumption tax on meals at restaurants, hotels, bars, and basically anywhere you’re having too much fun. On top of that, since February 2020, the Federal Government has also added a 7.5% Value Added Tax (VAT) on all goods and services. 

    This means you have to pay a total 12.5% tax on every spoonful of Jollof you order at a Lagos restaurant. Some restaurants might not display these charges, and no, it’s not because they don’t feel like taxing you — they’ve just folded the cost into their pricing. 

    Tax isn’t the only thing driving up your bill. Some restaurants also slap on a service charge, ranging from a chill 5% to an audacious 20%.

    We looked at 10 Lagos restaurants to see just how much extra you’re paying on top of your actual food. Let’s just say the bill for your small “starter meal” isn’t so small when the tax shows up.

    1. Zen Garden – 20% extra charges for a Chinese dining experience

    Source: Author

    You may think that ₦17k egg fried rice on the menu is just ₦17k. You might even convince yourself it’s worth the price because the plating is cute, the waiter is extra nice, and they handed you a steaming hot towel to soothe your hands before feasting. In reality, you’re enjoying premium service because your wallet is about to get hit with premium charges. 

    These are the extra fees you should expect:

    • Service Charge: 10%
    • VAT: 5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Total extra fee: 20%
    • Location: Ikeja GRA.
    • Price per person: ₦20,000+ (you still need to do the tax maths before your bill humbles you).
    Source: Author

    Zen Garden takes you on a culinary journey and a math test. If the menu says ₦30k, just know that with 20% tax and service charge, you’re paying ₦36,000. That’s ₦6k extra to enjoy the restaurant’s ambience and the sizzling Chinese experience. 

    You can try their vermicelli noodles with Chinese pickles soup, but just be ready for those triple-decker charges.

    2. Cilantro – A smooth 17.5% extra for a taste of Indian cuisine

    Source: Cilantro

    Cilantro is the restaurant that’ll remind you that you live in a capitalist society. First, you make a reservation and book a table at least 24 hours before. Then, you pay a 5% service charge, 7.5% VAT, and 5% consumption tax. It’s not too bad if you’re in the mood to splurge. 

    • Service Charge: 5%
    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Total extra fee: 17.5%
    • Location: Ikeja GRA.
    • Price per person: ₦20,000+ 

    You’re basically paying for the ambience, the vibe, and your waiter’s smile. But don’t say we didn’t warn you: they charge for the experience. 

    3. Afefeyeye – The “I’m Not That Taxed” Option

    Source: Afefeyeye

    For when you want the food without the financial gymnastics, Afefeyeye keeps it simple with a 7% total tax. 

    • Total tax: 7%
    • Location: Ikeja.
    • Price per person:  With ₦20,000, you can have a decent meal — the portions are great. 

    They keep it cultural and neat, with no surprise service charge or double-threat tax combo lurking. You can try their Eko Lawa starter, Abula Special, Babami Penne Pasta or Babami Seafood Carrot Rice. And if you’re in the mood to go big, the Faaji Kelele platter is also an option — all without worrying about ballooning extra charges.

    4. Sycamore by One Basket – Only 12.5% extra

    Sycamore keeps it simple with the standard Lagos restaurant charges: 5% consumption tax and 7.5% VAT. There’s no extra service charge, and you’re not paying just to sit down and eat.

    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Location: Magodo Phase 2.
    • Price per person: You can enjoy unlimited cocktails from ₦10,500, and on Wednesdays, unlimited wings go for ₦12,500.

    When you’re here, the only thing you’re focusing on is whether the food’s worth it — not whether some extra charges are secretly ganging up on you.

    5. The Orchid Bistro – Up to 20% extra charges, depending on your squad

    Source: Orchid Bistro

    The Orchid Bistro said, “What’s fine dining without a little extra service charge drama?” You pay a 15% service charge for a table of one to four and 20% for a table of five or more. 

    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Service Charge: 15% (table of 1–4), 20% (table of 5+).
    • Location: Ikeja.
    • Price per person:  ₦20,000+
       

    Basically, the more friends you have, the more you pay. Friendship is expensive.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    6. Hua Han – 22.5% extra for the full Seoul experience

    Source: Huahan

    Hua Han really lures you in with the whole Korean grill drama — the kind where someone grills your meat while you sip soju and pretend you’re in a K-drama. But the real drama? It’s in the bill. With 10% service charge, 7.5% VAT, and 5% consumption tax, your total extra charge is a jaw-dropping 22.5%. That’s nearly a quarter of your bill vanishing into the tax abyss.

    • Total Tax: 12.5%
    • Service charge: 10%
    • Location: Ikeja.

    Just know: when you order that bulgogi, you’re also paying for the full Seoul experience — plus tax. You’ll probably forget the service charge once the Korean BBQ hits your taste buds, but your account balance won’t.

    7. Encanto – A classic 17.5% combo

    Encanto’s tax game is like that one friend who knows how to have fun but still makes it home before 10 p.m. Not too much, not too little. With a 5% service charge, 7.5% VAT, and 5% consumption tax, you’re looking at a 17.5% add-on to your bill. It’s not bad for a fine dining experience. 

    • Service Charge: 5%
    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Total Tax: 17.5%
    • Location: Victoria Island.

    If you’re splitting the bill with friends, prepare for calculator drama.

    8. Ile Iyan – Taxes for your swallow

    Source: Ile Iyan

    Ile Iyan keeps things semi-transparent: you’ll definitely pay 12.5% in taxes (7.5% VAT + 5% consumption tax), and a service charge might be added “for your convenience.” 

    Heads up, it’s not a tip for your waiter, so don’t skip the gratitude if the service was actually good.

    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Service Charge: This may be added to your bill.
    • Total extra fees: 12.5% + possible service charge.
    • Location:  Lekki.

    Even pounded yam is not exempt from the Lagos tax hustle.

    9. Sketch Cafe & Restaurant – The “no surprises here” spot

    This review highlights that Sketch has no sneaky extra charges. What you see on the menu is what you pay. Your total bill is exactly that — your total bill. Simple.
    But word: It’s probably factored into the price somewhere.

    • Total Tax: 12.5% (standard tax)
    • Service Charge: Not specified.
    • Location: Victoria Island.

    For a place that looks like a comic book, the prices feel very real.

    10. Yellow Chilli – 12.5% extra for the seafood feast

    Yellow Chilli is pretty open about taxes: you’ll be paying 7.5% VAT and 5% consumption tax, for a total of 12.5%. They don’t specify any service charge, though, so keep an eye on your bill! 

    • VAT: 7.5%
    • Consumption Tax: 5%
    • Total Tax: 12.5%
    • Location: Ikeja GRA.

    But hey, it’s worth it for their famous seafood platter. You may go for their eba and seafood okra, but best believe the taxes are coming too.

    Bottom Line

    When you’re dining out in Lagos, it’s not just about the prices on the menu; it’s what’s on the final bill. These extra charges can turn a ₦20,000 brunch into a ₦25,000 event real quick. So the next time your date orders that extra cocktail, just know the government might be sipping, too.

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    Also Read: The Cost of Exclusivity: What It Takes to Join Lagos’ Elite Clubs

    Zikoko readers are currently giving feedback about us this year. Join your voice to theirs by taking this 10-minute survey.

    [ad]

  • Trigger Warning: This story contains descriptions of medical trauma, coercion, and emotional distress related to egg donation. It may be upsetting to readers who have experienced similar situations or are sensitive to themes of bodily autonomy and exploitation.

    Four years ago, Iyanuoluwa, 24, donated her eggs at a fertility clinic in Abuja, and she’s never been the same.

    In Nigeria, egg donation is often sold as a safe, generous act to help a couple conceive and walk away with up to ₦500k. 

    But behind clean clinic walls is an underregulated industry quietly preying on vulnerable young women. With no clear national law governing egg donation, many clinics operate without transparency or accountability. 

    So, while the clinics rake in money from desperate couples, many egg donors, especially students and low-income women, are left to bear the cost of unmonitored hormone injections, rushed procedures, and life-altering complications. 

    After four years, Iyanuoluwa still struggles with hormonal imbalance, anxiety, a deep sense of loss, and lingering fear that her fertility may be compromised. Here’s a window into what really happens in some fertility clinics in Nigeria and the price vulnerable young women quietly pay. 

    This is Iyanuoluwa’s story, as told to Aisha Bello.

    It was November 2021.

    I was 20 and in my final year at a university in the southwest. I had over ₦180k in unpaid fees, and my parents couldn’t afford it. My dad had already taken a loan from work and couldn’t access another. 

    My school fees had been unpaid for a year and seven months, and it was clear my dad couldn’t get the money. He would have found a way if there was one, and it weighed heavily on him.

    My mum always mentioned how he couldn’t sleep at night and how frequently they had to check his blood pressure.

    It broke them, and it broke me, too. So, I took matters into my own hands.

    I found the ad on Facebook. They promised me ₦180k

    Egg donation ads were everywhere on Facebook, and girls talked about how easy it was. The agent I contacted told me I’d get ₦180k. Later, he said the Abuja clinic could only pay ₦140k. I didn’t care. 

    I just wanted out of my situation.

    So, I joined a WhatsApp group with over 200 other girls. Most were from Benin and Port Harcourt, and some had donated more than once.

    In November 2021, I travelled to the fertility centre in Garki, Abuja.

    That trip altered my life forever.

    I was a virgin. The procedure took that from me.

    Something felt off the moment I arrived. We couldn’t leave the compound. 

    No visitors. 

    No noise. 

    And no freedom.

    The injections started immediately. They injected us in the morning and evening every two days for the first week, then daily from Day 9 to Day 14.

    They jabbed needles into the side of my belly, followed by constant vaginal scans. 

    They’d insert a long and thick instrument into my tight vagina to check out the eggs. The pain was excruciating, and even when I cried out in discomfort, the nurses often just shouted at me to “cooperate.” 

    Nobody cared that I was in pain.

    After all the form-filling, endless tests, settling in, and being told I couldn’t leave, I realised there was no turning back. This was what I had gotten myself into.

    Day 14 was egg retrieval day.

    They sedated me with anaesthesia. Just before I passed out, a nurse in the facility — let’s call her Nurse Y leaned over and asked if I’d ever had sex. I shook my head and signalled no. I was barely conscious.

    When I woke up, I was bleeding. I didn’t have my underwear on anymore and was alone in a private room.

    I knew I had lost my virginity on that table during that procedure. Nurse Y later came in and apologised. She admitted they should’ve taken note.

    Then she begged me not to tell anyone.

    When the meaning sank in, pain and anger tore through me.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    They promised ₦140k. I left with ₦25k.

    Two days after returning to school, Nurse Y called to say my eggs weren’t viable, so instead of the ₦140k I was promised, I’d only get ₦40k. The clinic didn’t pay me directly; they sent the money through her. Since I had borrowed ₦10k from her for transport, she deducted that, along with ₦5k for the agent who linked me. In the end, I only received ₦25k.

    I was shattered, helpless and cried my lungs out. I sobbed like my world was ending because, at that moment, it was. Some girls went back to fight after being underpaid. But I didn’t even have the transport fare to go back. 

    What would I have said if I got there? That I was a virgin, and they took that, too?

    The agent said it didn’t matter, that the procedure wouldn’t affect my virginity.

    But it did.

    While at the facility, some girls who had completed theirs before I arrived showed up and caused a scene. They were angry, claiming the clinic had deducted their pay. 

    When I asked Nurse Y what was happening, she explained that the clinic often deducted pay from donors who skipped injections or missed a day. 

    Apparently, donors had to sign a register every day for two weeks, and missing one day meant a deduction from their payment.

    I didn’t miss a single day, and no one ever mentioned that I could be shortchanged if my eggs didn’t ‘meet their expectations.’

    Inside the facility, there was a different category of older women who were undergoing the surrogacy process. Some of them were sent home because, as the nurses put it, their bodies or wombs didn’t “accept” the embryo that had been implanted in them.

    We were raw materials to them

    Most of the donor girls at the facility were my age or younger. One of the nurses even said, “This clinic pays more than the others. You girls are lucky to be here.”

    It didn’t feel like luck. It felt like a factory. They injected us, scanned us, collected what they needed, and sent us off.

    Some girls who lived in town were even encouraged to bring their friends for a commission. The more desperate girls they brought, the more they earned. It was a system — a business.

    I still don’t believe my eggs were unusable. I responded well to the injections and treatments for the entire two weeks. They argued that my AS genotype could have been a factor. I don’t know how true that was.

    In addition, I don’t even know how many eggs they took. I was unconscious.

    But I remember the clipping pain near my clitoris. Even while under mild anaesthesia, I felt it, and the pain was sharp and unbearable.

    I bled for two weeks. I thought I was dying

    My next period after the procedure lasted two weeks. I had severe blood clots, cramping, and bloating that made it hard to walk. I thought I’d damaged my body and was dying.

    When I called Nurse Y to voice my concerns, she claimed it was normal.

    “It’s just your body reacting,” she said.

    But I wasn’t okay.

    So, I locked myself in my room for days, drowning in regret, anxiety, fear, anguish and a sense of loss. I didn’t eat for three straight days. On the fourth day, I forced something down when it felt like my soul was slipping away.

    I still didn’t have the money to pay my fees and couldn’t write my exams. Everything I had done to solve the problem had made it worse, and I couldn’t tell anyone.

    I started having suicidal ideations. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. It felt like I’d been taken advantage of and lost something I could never get back.

    Socially, I withdrew. I was terrified my friends would find out and judge me.

    Not being allowed to write exams shattered me even more. I blamed myself again and again.

    Eventually, after a student protest, my school lifted the “no fee, no exam” policy. The protest shut things down for two months. This gave me the time I needed to heal. I went home to my parents.

    When I got home, I worked part-time as a waiter, cleaner, and sometimes cashier at a restaurant. Thankfully, my boss paid my school fees under a written agreement that I’d return to work for him after exams. If I couldn’t, my dad would have to pay him back within three months.

    He paid upfront, and my dad settled the debt after five months once his loan came through.

    When school resumed, I wrote my exams and the ones I missed were also re-conducted for those who couldn’t pay earlier.

    Lingering fears 

    Since they told me they couldn’t use my eggs, I’ve been stuck in a constant cycle of fear and panic, wondering if I’ll ever be able to conceive.

    I don’t even know if they were telling the truth or just lying to me, but the statement hasn’t left my mind since.

    The panic eventually eased. But the impact didn’t entirely go away.

    I wasn’t in any relationship before, and I’ve not been in any after. I just can’t bring myself to try. Now, I have a constant fear of abandonment: that they’ll leave me once they find out what happened. They’ll think I’m damaged and walk away.

    I’ve blamed myself several times for choosing that path and for trying to solve something that, in the end, was taken care of by my dad, with the help of my boss, just a few months into working.

    And for losing something so important in such a cheap way.

    Four years later, I still live with the consequences. My periods are irregular. My anxiety hasn’t left, and I haven’t told a soul in my family.

    The worst part is that nothing has changed. Clinics like this still exist, still hunting vulnerable girls and silencing them with shame and fear.

    I didn’t know any better. I just needed help, but what I got was trauma.

    What Does the Law Say?

    The National Health Act of 2014 is the only law that attempts to regulate egg donation in Nigeria, but it doesn’t directly address it. Section 53 criminalises the buying or selling of any human tissue, blood, or blood products, and since eggs are considered human tissue, this creates a legal grey area. Egg donation itself isn’t explicitly illegal.

    There are no regulations or clear rules specifying who can donate eggs, how often, or what compensation is fair. As a result, many young women go through the process without proper counselling, medical support, or clear information, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation.

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    Also Read: “I Got My Big Break, and He Became a Liability” — 3 Nigerian Women Who Bankrolled Their Partners Until It Broke Them

    Zikoko readers are currently giving feedback about us this year. Join your voice to theirs by taking this 10-minute survey.

    [ad]

  • In this story, Jemi*(26) shares how she fell out with her close friend over communication issues, and now that he has passed away, everything feels unresolved.

    [ad][/ad]

    Let’s start from the beginning.

    Rotimi* and I met at a mutual friend’s house by chance in 2017. We bonded over our shared interest in films and books and became fast friends. We spent a lot of time together and, by the end of the year, had grown incredibly close, almost like siblings.

    Tell me more about your friendship with Rotimi.

    We both attended the same public university. He was two years ahead of me and studied Law while I studied Psychology. He wrote beautifully and wanted to be a writer at some point. I encouraged him to share his poetry and essays on our group chat with the rest of our friends. I’m not that good at writing, but I would share my journal entries with him if it felt too heavy for me to talk about. 

    For me, he was a completely judgement-free place to share my thoughts. No matter how questionable the situation was, I knew I could go to Rotimi to vent, and he’d at least hear me out. 

    My family isn’t very well off either, and so if I ran out of money or I couldn’t get my allowance on time, Rotimi would come to the little room I had off campus to share his foodstuff with me. 

    When school got too tough, we’d skip our classes to drink beer and argue about our favourite films. Every time we hung out was very pleasant.

    It sounds like a great friendship. What happened?

    In March 2019, Rotimi suddenly had a seizure, and after being treated at the hospital, he was diagnosed with epilepsy. I didn’t think his diagnosis would affect our friendship, but I was wrong. 

    He was very ashamed of his condition and didn’t want to spend time with his friends like before. Like most of his other friends, I began texting and checking in on him constantly, nearly every day. Slowly, he started to hang out with us again. That same year, he met a wonderful girl, and they started dating. I was really happy for him.

    So what went wrong?

    In June of that same year, Rotimi sent me a frantic message. He had gone to the hospital for a routine check-up, but they ended up doing a full-body scan and discovered a brain tumour. He needed surgery as soon as possible. He sounded so panicked in the message, writing about how he thought he was going to die. 

    Naturally, I panicked too and tried calling him as soon as I got the text. I didn’t get an answer. I immediately assumed it was because they had started the surgery, so I tried calling his siblings, but they didn’t answer either. My stomach was in knots for days. I kept calling and texting him to no avail. 

    READ ALSO: I Agreed To Date Someone Who Toasted Me For 5 Years. I Regretted It

    Did you manage to reach anyone else who knew him?

    Eventually, I managed to get the number of one of his friends who lived out of the country. I explained the situation to him and said I really needed to know Rotimi was okay. He was like, ”Rotimi? We’ve been playing Call of Duty together everyday, he’s fine.” I was confused. I asked how recent their last game was, and he said they had just finished one together and were planning to get another game going that evening. I became very upset.

    I angrily texted Rotimi, asking why he was not answering his texts but he had time to play online games with his friends. He texted back immediately that he didn’t think it was important and that he was okay. 

    Wow

    I chalked up this behaviour to being super stressed at suddenly getting sick, so I didn’t want to blow it out of proportiom but a month later, he did the same thing. 

    Tell me what happened. 

    He sent me a frantic voice note in the middle of the night asking me to pray for him that he could feel himself slipping. He said he was on the way to the hospital, and they were going to operate on the tumour for sure this time. 

    I woke up early that day to the voice note and texted him to give me details: Who do I call when he’s under? Which hospital was he at? No answer. I called and called and called. I was full of anxious energy because, this time, no one in our friend group had heard from him at all. 

    It turns out, I was the only one in the friend group he had sent this voicenote to. Two weeks later, I got a call from his girlfriend asking if she could sleep over in my room off campus for a night. She admitted that Rotimi would be joining her, but he asked her to call because he knew I was mad at him.

    How did that make you feel?

    I was relieved that he was okay, but I was also really angry with him. I told his girlfriend she could come and get the key to the room, but she should tell her boyfriend not to talk to me again. 

    I believed that Rotimi didn’t respect our friendship by sending me these agitating messages and disappearing with no updates. When his girlfriend gave him my message, he texted me, “ Can we talk?” but I aired the message.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    You stood on business. What happened after that?

    Yes, and it felt like the right thing to do at the time, but now, not so much. We didn’t talk again for almost six months. I ran into him at a small book fair in 2020, and we started talking again. I told him I hated that he would drop scary messages and disappear, and he apologised. He asked that we pick a time to hang out like the old days, and we’d sort out the whole thing. I happily agreed but told him I’d have his time in a month. 

    A week later, his girlfriend sent our friend group a terrible message. Rotimi had passed away in the middle of the night from a seizure. 

    Oh no! I’m so sorry.

    My heart was shattered. At first, I thought maybe it was part of a prank, but as the burial details kept coming out, I had to swallow the bitter truth. 

    It’s one of the worst losses I have experienced in my young life. Sometimes, I see something he would like, and I want to send it to him, but then I remember he’s no longer here with us, and it’s like my heart breaks all over again.

    I regret not settling with him that day. I would forgive him a thousand times if it meant he would still be here. He was a really great friend to me, and even though a few years have gone by, my heart has not healed from his passing.

    If you enjoyed reading this, you’ll also enjoy: My Mother Abandoned Me, But Chose to Raise My Brother

  • Aliko Dangote
    Aliko Dangote

    We know their names, and we’ve heard the stories. But what exactly are the richest men in Nigeria doing with their money in 2025, and what can you learn from them?

    These men aren’t just rich. They’ve held onto power and wealth through regime changes, recessions, and shifting policies. Beyond the billions, their business moves say a lot about how wealth is built and protected in Nigeria.

    Here are the top 10 richest men in Nigeria, what they’re doing right and what you might learn from it.

    1. Aliko Dangote — $23.9 billion

    Dangote has been Nigeria’s richest man for over a decade, mainly because he figured out early that the actual money was in everyday products — cement, sugar, salt, pasta — things people always need. Dangote controls his supply chain from raw material to final product. Lately, however, his focus has shifted to petrol, and the Dangote Refinery is his biggest bet yet, increasing his net worth by 100% and becoming the 86th richest in the world.

    • Industry: Cement, Food, Petroleum.
    • Companies owned: Dangote Cement, Dangote Sugar, Dangote Salt, Dangote Flour, and the Dangote Refinery.
    • What you can learn: As the richest man in Africa, he didn’t chase hype. He built wealth around everyday needs and owned as much of the process as possible.

    2. Abdulsamad Rabiu — $7.6 billion

    Abdulsamad Rabiu

    Rabiu scaled his late father’s local trading business into a large-scale manufacturing empire. Today, his cement and food companies, BUA Cement and BUA Foods, are major players on the Nigerian Stock Exchange.

    • Industry: Manufacturing, Cement, Food.
    • Companies owned: BUA Cement, BUA Foods, BUA Oil Mills, and BUA Estates.
    • What you can learn: Legacy businesses can grow with focus and structure.

    3. Mike Adenuga — $6.7 billion

    Mike Adenuga

    Adenuga made his first million in his twenties, moved into oil with Conoil, and later disrupted telecoms with Glo. He’s low-profile but deeply invested in sectors where demand rarely drops.

    • Industry: Oil, Telecoms.
    • Companies owned: Globacom, Conoil Producing, Conoil PLC, and Cobblestone Properties.
    • First big break: Importing lace and soft drinks in the 1970s.
    • What you can learn: You don’t have to be loud to build powerful, long-lasting businesses.

    4. Arthur Eze — $5 billion

    Arthur Eze

    Through Atlas Oranto Petroleum, Arthur Eze owns oil assets in over 10 African countries. His wealth comes from upstream oil deals, cross-border expansion, and strategic political connections.

    • Industry: Oil and gas.
    • Companies owned: Atlas Oranto Petroleum.
    • First big break: Launched Atlas Oranto in the early ‘90s.
    • What you can learn: Oil and gas wealth takes time, deep pockets and the right relationships.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    ALSO READ: 55 Ways To Make Money Online, Offline and from Home as a Nigerian

    5. Cletus Ibeto — $3.8 billion

    From selling spare parts in Onitsha to building factories, Ibeto followed the local trader’s path to industrial wealth. He spotted the gaps in Nigeria’s manufacturing and filled them with everything from cement to oil and other industrial materials.

    • Industry: Cement, Oil, Manufacturing.
    • Companies owned: Ibeto Cement, Union Autoparts Manufacturing, Ibeto Petrochemical Industries, and Kings’ Palace Hotels, under The Ibeto Group.
    • First big break: Became a key spare parts supplier in the 1980s.
    • Recent move: Beyond cement and petrochemicals, Ibeto has diversified into real estate, hospitality, and gas processing.

    6. Benedict Peters — $2.7 billion

    Benedict Peters

    Founder of Aiteo Group, Peters controls one of Nigeria’s most significant oil blocks. He started in oil trading and moved into upstream exploration, the riskier but more profitable side of the oil and gas business, making him one of the richest men in Nigeria.

    • Public companies: Aiteo Eastern E&P, Aiteo Energy Resources, and others under the Aiteo Group.
    • First big break: Worked under Dangote Group before launching Aiteo.
    • Recent move: Investing in energy infrastructure and sports partnerships.
    • What you can learn: Use industry knowledge to take calculated risks, especially when moving up the value chain. 

    7. Tony O. Elumelu — $2.5 billion

    Tony O. Elumelu

    As one of the richest men in Nigeria, Elumelu made his name by reviving a small bank and turning it into UBA. He’s now building power and hospitality businesses under Transcorp while funding African entrepreneurs through his foundation.

    • Industry: B/Power, Hospitality.
    • Public companies: UBA, Transcorp Power, Transcorp Hotels, and Heirs Holdings.
    • What you can learn: Combine business with impact and scale what already works.

    8. Femi Otedola — $1.5 billion

    Femi Otedola

    At one point, Otedola was Nigeria’s oil money poster boy. These days, he’s betting big on power and finance and doing it with precise timing. Just like he cashed out of Forte Oil at its peak, he’s now making quiet moves in First Bank and Geregu Power.

    • Industry: Power, Finance.
    • First big break: Secured government licences to import petroleum products.
    • What you can learn: Timing matters. Know when to exit and where to reinvest. 

    9. Pascal Dozie — $1 billion

    Pascal Dozie

    Best known as the founder of Diamond Bank, one of Nigeria’s largest retail banks, until its acquisition by Access Holdings in December 2018. Dozie also made a significant early investment in MTN Nigeria. As of June 2023, his stake in MTN was valued at ₦91.26 billion.

    • Industry: Banking, Telecom.
    • Companies owned: Founded Diamond Bank (now part of Access Bank).
    • First big break: Economic consultancy in the 1970s.
    • Recent move: Focused on long-term investing and mentoring.
    • What you can learn: Backing high-growth companies early can pay off for decades.

    10. Jim Ovia — $980 million

    Jim Ovia

    Ovia founded Zenith Bank in 1990 and still holds a significant stake. He also ventured into telecoms through Visafone, which was sold to MTN. Most of his money comes from banking dividends, solidifying his position as one of the richest men in Nigeria.

    • Industry: Banking.
    • Public companies: Zenith Bank.
    • First big break: Started Zenith with a banking licence in the ’90s.
    • Recent move: Heavy into real estate and philanthropy.
    • What you can learn: Ownership and quiet consistency matters. He stayed focused, didn’t spread himself thin, and it paid off.

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    ALSO READ: Top 10 Richest Musicians in Nigeria (2025)

    Zikoko readers are currently giving feedback about us this year. Join your voice to theirs by taking this 10-minute survey.

    [ad]

  • Following the highly anticipated return of “Back For Ground” by Ibi Kontein, Sabi Arts is thrilled to unveil the powerhouse cast bringing this electrifying production to life. Get ready for an unforgettable theatrical experience with some of the most dynamic talents in the industry!

    Lolo Omotunde Adebowale as Augustina – A legend in the film and theatre space, Lolo is an award-winning TV and radio host, a performer with decades of experience, and an undeniable force on stage. She breathes life into Augustina like no other!

    Misan Jakpa as Mrs. Umoh – By day, she’s a fintech boss, but on stage, she’s a scene-stealing dramatist. Mrs. Umoh is a bag of surprises, and Misan is the perfect actress to deliver every jaw-dropping moment.

    Mercy Jackson as Ijeoma – A skilled stylist and career diplomat, Mercy has been dedicated to theatre since 2016. She first embodied Ijeoma in 2022, and this year, she’s turning up the heat like never before!

    Awe Ayobami as Akan – A true stage and screen powerhouse, Awe has starred in numerous Nollywood productions. His presence is magnetic, and his portrayal of Akan is set to be unforgettable.

    Exclusive discount alert!
    Be among the first 20 people to secure 30% off with the code BFG at checkout! Don’t sleep on this deal, it’s first come, first served!
    Ticket Info:
    – Regular: ₦12,000 (₦15,000 at the door)
    – VIP: ₦20,000
    – Group of 3:₦32,000

    Ticket link – https://tix.africa/discover/backforground
    Don’t miss out on the magic, the drama, and the spectacle. Back For Ground is back, and it’s bigger than ever! Secure your tickets NOW.

  • Lagos is home to some of the most prestigious clubs, offering access to powerful networks, world-class facilities, and a lifestyle reserved for Lagos’ elite. For the ambitious and well-connected, membership isn’t just about leisure; it’s a strategic move to influence, form partnerships, and elevate social standing. 

    But what does it really cost to be part of these exclusive communities? Here’s a look at the most sought-after clubs in Lagos and what it takes to join them.

    1. Lagos Country Club (LCC)

    Located in Ikeja, the Lagos Country Club offers an inviting atmosphere for families, athletes, and socialites alike. Founded in 1949, the club is commonly regarded as one of the top sporting clubs in Nigeria. But it doesn’t just offer sporting activities; membership provides a chance to connect with some of Lagos’s most influential figures in a laid-back, exclusive environment.

    • Exclusivity: You need two existing members to vouch for you to join.
    • Good for: Family-friendly activities, sports, and a relaxed elite social scene.
    • Who Gets In: From high-ranking military officers to seasoned professionals and business owners, this club demands success. Minimum age: 25 years.

    2. Ikoyi Club 1938

    A true legacy of Lagos, Ikoyi Club 1938 was born from the merger of two iconic clubs: the European and Lagos Golf Club. Located in Ikoyi, the club attracts some of the city’s most accomplished individuals, from senior government officials to senior managers in multinational companies. It’s about exclusivity, connections, and the privilege of spending your downtime around like-minded high achievers.

    • Exclusivity: Requires two recommendations from existing members.
    • Good for: Swimming, lawn tennis, squash, golf, and other sports.
    • Who Gets In: Professionals with 10+ years experience, military colonels, senior managers in major banks or oil companies, and other high-net-worth individuals.
    • How to Join: Begin by filling out two forms — a white form (₦50,000) and a green form (₦100,000). Interested applicants can only obtain forms through an existing member who has been with the club for at least two years.

    3. Lagos Polo Club

    If polo is your thing, Lagos Polo Club is where you belong. This exclusive club offers a thrilling sporting experience and the chance to mingle with the crème de la crème of Lagos society. With a membership of about 400 people and a waitlist of eager applicants, getting in is no easy feat. It’s the place to be if you enjoy the elegance of polo and the perks of a truly elite network.

    • Exclusivity: Only 5% of members are women, and with a 70-person waitlist, entry is competitive.
    • Good for: Polo enthusiasts and networking.
    • Who Gets In: Polo players, high-ranking business leaders, and those looking to rub elbows with Lagos’s elite.
    • How to Join: The club’s application process is competitive. You’ll need to be nominated by existing members. It’s essential to know someone with significant connections within the club.
    Lagos Polo Club via Instagram

    4. Capital Club

    Capital Club is located in Victoria Island’s business district and is designed for the city’s most influential executives. It’s more than just a social club; it’s where deals, connections and partnerships are formed. It offers everything from fine dining to global networking opportunities. Members have access to over 250 international clubs, allowing them to build a global network.

    • Membership Fees: Ranges from $4,000 to $15,000 annually, with a lifetime membership at $44,000 (payable in naira).
    • Exclusivity: The fees are high, but that’s to ensure only the most influential people are invited to join. It’s the networking spot for those looking to elevate their business game.
    • Good for: Global networking, exclusive events, and exceptional dining experiences.
    • Who Gets In: C-suite executives and senior professionals in high-powered industries, ready to network at the highest level.
    • How to Join: Applications are typically by invitation. However, you can apply directly through the club’s website and provide a professional biography that demonstrates your business influence.
    Capital Club Via Instagram

    5. Lakowe Lakes Golf and Country Estate

    For those seeking both a golf lover’s paradise and a peaceful, upscale retreat, Lakowe Lakes Golf and Country Estate provides a unique experience. The estate is a blend of serene living, sports, and luxury. Whether you’re hitting the greens, relaxing by the lakes, or connecting with other high-net-worth individuals, this estate provides a unique balance of leisure and networking.

    • Good For: Golf enthusiasts and those seeking a luxurious, serene lifestyle.
    • Who Gets In: Golf lovers who enjoy the exclusivity of a residential estate that combines sport and tranquillity.
    • Exclusivity: Affluent individuals, golf enthusiasts, and those seeking a luxurious, tranquil lifestyle away from Lagos’s hustle and bustle.
    • How to Join: You can apply directly through the club’s website. The process includes submitting your application and paying the necessary fees for either individual, family, or corporate memberships.
    Lakowe Lakes

    6. Mìlíkì

    Miliki isn’t just a social club; it’s a sanctuary for Lagos’ creatives, intellectuals, and anyone in search of a quiet, cool retreat from the city’s chaos. It’s a low-key yet exclusive space where artists, musicians, and thinkers come together to relax, share ideas, and connect. With events ranging from music nights to art exhibitions, it’s perfect for anyone who values art, culture, and intellectual conversation as much as business.

    • Exclusivity: A carefully curated membership base, largely composed of creatives, artists, and cultural leaders in their 30s and 40s.
    • Good for: Quiet, intellectual gatherings and cultural events.
    • Who Gets In: This club thrives on word of mouth, attracting those who are deeply embedded in Lagos’s cultural and creative scenes.
    • How to Join: Membership is generally by invitation, and the club relies on word-of-mouth recommendations. The best way to join is to connect with current members who can refer you.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    7. Gaia Africa

    Gaia Africa is Lagos’ first and only women-only members’ club, focusing on empowering female professionals in the city. If you’re a woman at the top of your field, Gaia offers an exclusive space to network, learn, and grow professionally. It’s more than just a social club; it’s a platform for women to thrive in the world of business.

    • Membership Fees: Emerald members pay $2,000 for registration and then $1,000 annually. Ruby members pay $1,000 for registration and $650 per year subsequently (payable in naira).
    • Good For: High-level networking among women in leadership positions.
    • Exclusivity: Focused on women’s empowerment, Gaia Africa connects the most powerful women in Lagos’s business, finance, and social sectors.
    • Who Gets In: Senior executives and professionals at the top of their careers, focused on professional growth and empowerment.
    • How to Join: The process involves filling out an application form and being recommended by existing members.
    Gaia Africa

    Bottom Line

    Joining exclusive Lagos clubs may be more about financial and professional investments than leisure. From Polo and golf to intellectual retreats and women’s networks, each club offers a unique blend of benefits, networking opportunities, and a ticket to the inner circle of Lagos’s elite. 

    Whether you’re looking to expand your business network, unwind, or enjoy a luxurious lifestyle, these clubs provide access to a world of possibilities. But exclusivity comes at a price, and only a select few can afford the cost of entry.

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    Also Read: 13 of the Cheapest Visa-Free Countries Nigerians Can Explore in 2025

    Zikoko readers are currently giving feedback about us this year. Join your voice to theirs by taking this 10-minute survey.

    [ad]

  • Table of contents

    What is a Budget?

    How to Build a Budget That Works for You

    What Budgeting Style Works for Nigerians?

    Budgeting with an Unstable Income 

    Conclusion

    A woman budgeting in Nigeria

    Budgeting is essential to stretch your money throughout the month, especially in a country where the cost of living changes unpredictably. A solid budget is the best way to control your finances. It helps you separate needs from wants, save for the future, invest wisely, and build an emergency fund for unexpected expenses.

    We spoke with Oluchukwu Chiadika, your personal finance girl. With eight years of experience helping Nigerians manage their money, she breaks down practical, Nigerian-specific budgeting strategies that work whether you’re a salary earner, freelancer, or business owner.

    What is a Budget?

    A budget is simply a plan for your money. Many people assume budgeting is complicated, but at its core, it’s about knowing how much you earn and spend and ensuring your money goes where it should.

    Budgeting isn’t just for people who earn a lot of money. It’s the key to creating the life you want. Sticking to a budget isn’t easy, but here’s how to make it work.

    How to Build a Budget That Works for You

    Budgeting in Nigeria isn’t just about cutting costs. It’s about understanding your money and making it work for you. Oluchukwu breaks it down into four simple steps:

    Step 1: Know Your Income

    Before creating a budget, you need to understand how much money you earn each month. Your income forms the foundation of your budget.

    • Write down all sources of income — salary, side hustle earnings, freelance gigs, or family support.
    • If your income fluctuates, calculate an average from the last three months.

    Step 2: Understand Your Expenses

    Before any budgeting method can work, you must first know where your money is going.

    • Track your spending for at least a month.
    • Review your bank statements from the past three months to spot spending patterns.
    • Compare income vs. expenses — are you spending more than you earn?
    • Identify unnecessary expenses and areas to cut back.
    • Categorise your spending into essentials (rent, food, transport, data) and non-essentials (subscriptions, impulse purchases).

    Step 3: Create a budget for the Next Month

    Now that you know your income and expenses, it’s time to set spending limits for the next month.

    • Write down estimated costs for the next month based on past spending.
    • Choose a budgeting style and allocate money for essentials, savings, and investments.
    • Stick to the budget you’ve created.

    Step 4: Adjust and Track

    A budget isn’t static. It evolves based on your financial situation, inflation and cost of living.

    • Monitor spending throughout the month.
    • Adjust where necessary; unexpected expenses happen. 
    • Track expenses using budgeting apps, spreadsheets, or even a simple notebook.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    What Budgeting Style Works for Nigerians? 3 Styles To Consider

    Oluchukwu explains that the 50/30/20 rule, where 50% of your income goes to needs, 30% to wants, and 20% to savings and investments, sounds great in theory. But in Nigeria, it doesn’t always work.

    Some people earn enough that essentials take up just 20% of their income. They should be saving and investing more, not forcing a 50% budget on necessities.

    Others barely get by, with food alone consuming 70% of their income. Expecting them to squeeze into the 50/30/20 rule is unrealistic. 

    Budgeting isn’t one-size-fits-all. Finding a system that fits your income, expenses, and goals is key.

    Here are 3 styles that work for Nigerians:

    1. Percentage-Based Budgeting (50/30/20, 70/20/10, or Your Own Mix)

    • This method helps you allocate money in fixed percentages. If the 50/30/20 rule doesn’t work for you, tweak it. 
    • For example, if you spend most of your salary on food and transport, a 70/20/10 split might work better — 70% for essentials, 20% for savings and 10% for wants.
    • The goal is to create a budget that reflects your priorities and balances your spending.

    2. Zero-Based Budgeting

    • Here, every naira has a job. No idle money is left sitting in your account. You allocate all your income towards expenses, savings, debt repayment, and investments until there’s nothing left unassigned. 
    • If you earn ₦200K, you might allocate ₦100K to essentials, ₦50K to savings, ₦30K to debt repayment, and ₦20K to personal spending.
    • This method helps you track where every naira goes and ensures you’re intentional with your money.

    3. Pay Yourself First Budgeting

    • Before spending a dime, you save or invest a fixed percentage of your income and then budget the rest.
    • If you decide to save 20%, it goes straight into your savings or investments once you get paid. Then, you budget the remaining 80% for essentials and wants.
    • This approach helps you prioritise financial growth and avoid the temptation to spend everything.

    The key difference is in priority: percentage-based budgeting spreads your income into flexible categories. Zero-based budgeting assigns every naira a job to ensure nothing is unaccounted for. Pay-yourself-first budgeting prioritises saving and investing before anything else.

    A man budgeting in Nigeria

    Budgeting with an Unstable Income 

    Traditional budgeting methods may not always work for freelancers or anyone with irregular income. Unlike salaried employees who can allocate fixed amounts, those with unstable earnings need a different approach: budgeting in reverse.

    • First, calculate your monthly expenses. Know how much you need to survive.
    • Save aggressively during your high-earning months. Keep extra cash for months when income is lower.
    • Live prudently. Your earnings may fluctuate, but your core expenses should remain stable.
    • This method ensures that even in low-income months, you won’t struggle because you’ve already planned.

    So, Which Budgeting Style Should You Choose?

    Start with a percentage-based budget as a guide, but adjust it based on your reality. If your expenses are low, save and invest more. If survival costs are high, prioritise essentials while finding ways to increase your income. The best budget is one that works for you.

    Bottom Line

    Budgeting is not about restrictions. It’s about control and clarity over your finances. Knowing exactly where your money goes helps you make informed decisions.

    Following this step-by-step guide will give you a budget that works for your financial reality, helping you take control of your money and build a path to financial stability.

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    Also Read: 10 Investment Apps Nigerians Are Using to Build Wealth in 2025

    [ad]

  • In Nigeria, it’s a common sentiment that firstborn children automatically become the people their younger siblings go to for money. In essence, it’s expected that the elder child has more money. But what happens when the reverse is the case, like it is for Wale*?

    In this story, 28-year-old Wale shares how he grew up believing he had to provide for his younger siblings. Unfortunately, his younger brother has always been better off, which has translated to finances. Wale now struggles with resentment at his brother’s success and his own perceived failures. 

    As told to Boluwatife

    One of my earliest childhood memories is of a time my mum scolded my two younger siblings for calling me by my first name. They had to call me “Brother Wale” or be punished. 

    My mum is big on respect and culture and instilled that consciousness into her children. We knew we had to prostrate to greet every older person and could never question elders. In our house, my siblings didn’t dare to pick a snack or toy until I’d made my choice. 

    Once, my younger brother wanted to watch a cartoon show, but I was watching something else, so my mum refused to let him change the channel. 

    She told him, “Ask your brother to consider changing the channel or you watch what he’s watching.” 

    That was how it was at home. It didn’t matter that I was only a little over a year older than my immediate younger sibling and three years older than our last born. As the firstborn, I deserved the first pick of everything.

    My mum also emphasised the need for me to look out for my siblings. As the first child and default head of the family after my dad, I had to care for and provide for my siblings. 

    So, during my siblings’ birthdays, my mum would ask, “What did you buy for your brother?” She also regularly prayed, “May you be the head indeed and set a path for your younger ones.” 

    As a result, I believed I needed to be ahead in every way to be a worthy elder brother. But it isn’t the easiest thing to do, especially if you have a genius younger brother. 

    Since primary school, my immediate younger brother, Kunle, has been ahead of me. 

    First, it was academics. He always snagged first position and several awards in his class while I struggled with third or fourth positions in mine. This didn’t rub off well on me. 

    My mum never compared our results but always nudged me to work harder to reach my full potential. I felt she did this because Kunle was doing so well, and I didn’t like it. But try as I may, school just wasn’t my strong suit. 

    Fast forward to secondary school, the girls flocked to Kunle more. He was a school prefect and girls liked smart boys, but I often got jealous of the attention he was getting. Thankfully, we didn’t attend the same university, so I didn’t have to compare myself to him. We also finished with the same second-class upper grade. 

    Now that we’re both adults, I have another thing to worry about: Kunle is more successful and has significantly more money than I do. He works in tech, and while I don’t know his actual salary, I know he earns in dollars and makes at least ₦1.5m monthly. Meanwhile, I’m here, waking up at 5:30 a.m. every day, fighting for my life at a ₦270k/month marketing job.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    It probably sounds like I’m not happy for my brother — I am. I’m glad he’s doing well. It’s just that his life and career trajectory make me feel like I’m not growing as much as I should. I can’t make certain decisions because I don’t have as much money, and it doesn’t feel good.

    For example, for my mum’s birthday last year, Kunle suggested that we gather ₦1.5m each over nine months to buy her a small car. I felt both insulted and useless. He knows I don’t earn as much as he does, so suggesting that amount felt like a dig at me. I should have been leading the conversation about what to get for our mother. But I couldn’t.

    I hate what not having as much money as my younger brother means for me. Kunle should be the one who looks up to me or bills me, but I’m the one who occasionally has to ask him for loans . Most of the time, he doesn’t allow me to repay the loans, but that only makes me feel worse. 

    As if that’s not enough, Kunle has his apartment while I still live with our mum. It’s like I’m just a figurehead claiming to be an elder brother, and honestly, I’m jealous of his progress. 

    This situation has affected our relationship. We weren’t super close as children, but we talked to each other and joked about our struggles. But there’s been a dynamic shift. As adults, it only makes sense that many of our conversations will revolve around money, the economy and our relationships. 

    I can’t just call my brother to rant because I fear he’ll assume I need money and offer to help me. So, I avoid talking to him instead. 

    We also can’t hang out as much because how do I explain I don’t have ₦20k to spend on drinks and food? Our communication has inevitably reduced to sending each other happy birthday messages and greetings when we see each other.

    My mum doesn’t say it, but I’m sure she’s disappointed I’m not “taking the lead” like she expects. I know it’s not exactly my fault. The economy is terrible, and many Nigerians like myself don’t earn enough to live comfortably despite working so hard. 

    People like my brother are a rarity — not many people will get the opportunity to work for foreign companies and earn so much. Still, I can’t help the resentment and feeling like I’m not doing enough. I keep hustling to get a better job to increase my income, but I’ve gotten nothing.

    Maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad if my brother weren’t as successful as he is. Or maybe I still would. I can’t say for sure, but this is my reality. I don’t feel like a worthy firstborn, which greatly bothers me. I can only hope things change for the better soon.

    *Names have been changed for anonymity.

    Before you go, join other Zikoko readers to help us create better content for you by taking this 10 minute survey.

    NEXT READ: I Lost My Parents to Inheritance Wars. I’m Not Leaving Money to Any Family

    Join 1,000+ Nigerians, finance experts and industry leaders at The Naira Life Conference by Zikoko for a day of real, raw conversations about money and financial freedom. Click here to buy a ticket and secure your spot at the money event of the year, where you’ll get the practical tools to 10x your income, network with the biggest players in your industry, and level up in your career and business.

    [ad]

  • I was looking for people who had experienced strained relationships with their parents when I found *Ahmad, 31.

    In this story, the 31-year-old shares how an encounter with a cleric turned his world upside down, made him question his own mother’s love, and almost led him to do something he would never have forgiven himself for.

    As told to Adeyinka

    If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be avoiding my mum’s food and plotting to move out of her house because of a cleric’s prophecy, I would’ve laughed in their face. But life has a way of humbling you in the most ridiculous ways.

    Growing up, my mum, my sister, and I had a solid relationship. She raised us independently, ensured we got a decent education, and did her best to provide for us. Things only started going south when my sister and I finished NYSC and couldn’t find jobs. At first, it was just regular frustration; complaints about how we were always home, how we didn’t try hard enough, and how her mates’ children were making money moves while we were lounging around. Normal Nigerian mum behaviour, right?

    But as months passed and we remained unemployed, her complaints turned into hostility. Every conversation was an argument. Every meal came with a side of passive-aggressive comments. She’d hiss when she saw us watching TV or make a snide remark if we dared to eat meat twice in one meal. Then, one day, she snapped and said something that stuck with me: “There are people in this house who don’t want progress.”

    I should have brushed it off, maybe laughed it away. But when you’re broke and desperate, words like that don’t just slide off. They sit in your chest, make a home in your mind, and refuse to leave.

    One afternoon, after yet another fruitless job hunt in Ikeja, I met an Islamic cleric on my way home. I don’t even remember how our conversation started, but the moment he said, “I see a bright light in you, but some close family members are working against your success,” he got my complete attention.

    [ad]

    I had never met this man before, and he had no way of knowing my struggles. But here he was, confirming what I had been suspecting for months. In my head, it had to be a divine revelation.

    We exchanged numbers, and that was how I became a regular visitor at his place in Oshodi. At first, it was just prayers. He’d recite verses, ask me to repeat after him, and tell me to hold on to faith. Then, one day, he asked me to do a special cleansing bath with eggs.

    I followed his instructions to the letter. He gave me a white bowl and told me to break each egg inside it. The first one cracked open and spilled yolk, just as expected. The second one did too. But by the third, I noticed something strange — inside the egg were tiny darkened needles. When I cracked the last egg, the bowl was filled with them.

    The cleric shook his head and said, “These are the obstacles placed in your life by your enemies.” I remember feeling a strong wave of nausea because the eggs also had a foul smell. My hands were shaking as I stared at the bowl. Who was doing this to me? Who was making my life miserable? He wouldn’t say. Instead, he repeated the same phrase over and over again: “The person is as close to you as your jugular vein.”

    At first, I didn’t understand. Then, during one of our sessions, he dropped another bomb: “It’s between the two closest women in your life.” I wasn’t dating at the time, so I had two options: my mum or my sister. I refused to believe it was my sister. She was jobless too and facing the same frustrations from our mum. What reason would she have to block my success? That left only one person: the woman who birthed me.

    I wish I could say I dismissed the thought immediately. That I stood up for my mum and walked out of that room. But I didn’t. I let the words sink in. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

    The hostility, complaints, and sudden outbursts about “people in this house not wanting progress.” Wasn’t this exactly what the cleric had warned me about? I started keeping my distance. I avoided my mum’s food. I watched her closely at night, looking for any strange movements or signs of witchcraft. I even started making plans to move out of the house. My sister noticed the shift and demanded to know what was happening, so I told her everything.

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    She found everything hilarious and refused to believe our mum was working against us. For her, it was nothing short of a Nollywood script.  “How does it make sense that our mother is a witch and behind our struggles?” she asked.

    But I didn’t have an answer. That should have been my wake-up call, but I was still in too deep. I had one foot in reality and the other in the world the cleric had created for me. I was still looking at my mother like she was a stranger in my own home. Then, one day, the cleric told me I needed to do a special saara (alms giving) to reclaim my glory. I was ready to do whatever it took until he mentioned the price— ₦500k

    Apparently, my destiny was chilling on a spiritual boat in the middle of the ocean, and only this sacrifice could bring it back. That was when everything snapped into focus.

    For the first time, I let myself really see everything I had ignored over the past few weeks. The cleric’s place was in a dilapidated building in Oshodi, with mostly Igbo occupants who seemed more like hustlers than people seeking divine intervention. His room always had weird red fabrics hanging across every corner, but I had chalked it up to his spiritual work. And despite knowing I was jobless, he always had a reason for me to part with money at every visit for incense, special prayers, and extra protection; I had to leave something.

    ALSO READ: My Mother Abandoned Me for a Cult and Never Looked Back

    How did I not see it earlier? How did I let some random man manipulate me into believing my own mother was against me? I felt a strong wave of shame wash over me in the days that followed, and by the following week, I cut him off. I deleted his number and blocked his calls. But the man refused to go quietly.

    He started reaching out with different numbers, leaving long voice notes about how my enemies would strike if I didn’t complete my spiritual cleansing. I ignored him at first, but when the messages became more intense and filled with warnings about doom, sudden sickness, and irreversible misfortune, I started to panic.

    What if he was right? What if he could actually cast a spell or summon something to mess me up? I tried to shake off the fear, but the thought stayed in my head. For weeks, I moved around with a sense of dread, expecting something terrible to happen at any moment. But nothing did. My life remained the same, and slowly, I realised something: If he had real power, he wouldn’t have been in that rundown building, hustling people like me for money. That was the final confirmation I needed.

    In 2024, I finally got a job, and my mum was the happiest person in the world. Seeing her excitement made me realise just how much damage I could have done if I had truly acted on the cleric’s words. I don’t even want to imagine how things could have ended if I had confronted her.

    Now, I stay far away from religious clerics and their visions. I don’t want to hear about any shining light, lost destiny, or spiritual boats. Some things are just not worth the risk.

    READ THIS NEXT: I Hit My Mum When I Was 15. We Never Recovered

    Before you go, join other Zikoko readers to help us create better for you by taking this 10-minute survey.

  • Nigeria has seen all types of First Ladies — the nonchalant, the quiet, and the empathetic-ish — but we’ve never seen anyone quite like Remi Tinubu. Even though the office of the First Lady isn’t constitutionally recognised in Nigeria and has no assigned responsibilities, we’ve seen wives of Presidents around the world make the most of it. Nigeria, on the other hand, hasn’t particularly had the best of luck when it comes to First Ladies. Now, we have Remi Tinubu, an ironically vocal woman who is often on the wrong side of history. 

    Since her husband took office in May 2023, he has had a controversial tenure. As soulmates tend to do, Mrs. Tinubu seems to have mirrored her husband’s behaviour because she, too, has had an equally controversial tenure as First Lady.

    Here are some of her most notable actions that should leave you with questions.

    An attempt to tackle national hunger with small-scale farming 

    While Nigerians were struggling with rising food prices in 2024, the First Lady advised women in the country to help keep the situation under control by planting food in their gardens. And because leaders are supposed to lead by example, she started by planting spinach, water leaf, bitter leaf, jute leaves (ewedu), lemon grass, scent leaf, and okro in her garden. While showing off her home-grown food, she said, “This little garden will be able to provide enough healthy vegetables for my household, and I would be able to let some of my staff have as well. The solution to any problem lies in everyone contributing their own quota to getting that solution.”

    On paper, Remi Tinubu’s effort looks like a cute public relations campaign. But in reality, a total of ₦660.5 million was reportedly set aside to provide ‘refreshment & meal and foodstuff for the offices of Tinubu and Shettima’ in 2024, while ₦201.4 million was allocated to the feeding of the animals in Aso Rock zoo. So, while Remi Tinubu was parading small-scale farming as the solution to Nigeria’s food insecurity problem, even the animals in Aso Rock had a bigger feeding budget than most Nigerians can ever boast of.

    If you’re interested in staying in the know, our daily newsletter simplifies and delivers news to your inbox at 7 AM every morning. Subscribe here.

    Almost a billion splashed on international trips in three months

    In September 2024, Remi Tinubu was back in the news for all the wrong reasons. The federal government had reportedly spent ₦701 million funding her trips to five countries within three months. Not only is the First Lady title a customary position with no traceable benefit to the country’s welfare, but it is also a position with no defined responsibilities, which makes it difficult to justify what business the federal government had, spending this amount of money on Mrs Tinubu as  Nigeria experiences its worst economic crisis yet. 

    An attempt to break tribal barriers with a national fabric

    Nigeria’s 2024 Independence Day came with a twist, all thanks to Remi Tinubu and her creative idea of “breaking down tribal barriers to identify as a people of one nation” with a national fabric. 

    While she  commissioned the fabric, she said that her goal is “to encourage local mass production of the unity fabric by two of our (Nigeria’s) local manufacturers” so as to make it “accessible to all Nigerians.” We held Remi Tinubu to her promise of making this national fabric accessible to all of us, and we’ve been waiting for five months. 200,000 pieces of the fabric were supposed to be made available nationwide, but it’s debatable how many Nigerians have seen this fabric before. There have been little to no follow-up details regarding the distribution efforts for a project that was likely executed with public funds. 

    Get More Zikoko Goodness in Your Mail

    Subscribe to our newsletters and never miss any of the action

    Dismissal of concerns over the Senate’s approach towards sexual harassment allegation

    On Thursday, March 6, the first lady shut down the nationwide criticisms that followed the Senate’s approach to the sexual harassment case presented by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan against Senate President Godswill Akpabio. Her reason? The Nigerian Senate is a “matured” institution that must be treated with respect.

    She also added that women shouldn’t be in situations where “men will be talking to you anyhow”. This is interesting for many reasons, but mainly because during her time as a senator, Remi Tinubu also experienced sexual harassment from Dino Melaye, a colleague who threatened to assault and impregnate her. By her logic, Nigerians could have argued that she put herself in that position, but at the time, the threats were not taken lightly. Up to 46 civil society groups rallied around her and called for legislative action against Melaye.

    Why should we be questioning the First Lady?

    The public has heavily criticised President Bola Ahmed Tinubu over the past few weeks because he is an elected official. However, it is important to scrutinise the actions of the First Lady and demand accountability, especially in cases where public funds are perceived to be misused by her. 

    How Can Nigerians Hold the First Lady Accountable?

    1. Demand Transparency in Spending
       Nigerians have a right to know how public funds are being spent on the First Lady’s activities. Civil society groups and journalists can use the Freedom of Information (FOI) Act to push for full disclosures.
    2. Engage in Active Civic Pressure
       Social media remains a powerful tool for activism. Viral hashtags, petitions, and online discussions can force government responses and keep public attention on questionable spending.
    3. Mobilise Civil Society Groups
       Advocacy groups, especially those focused on women’s rights, should call out Remi Tinubu’s contradictions like her dismissal of Akpoti-Uduaghan’s harassment petition, despite experiencing similar treatment in the past.
    4. Resist Performative Initiatives
       Nigerians shouldn’t settle for symbolic gestures like the First Lady’s national fabric” when fundamental policy changes are needed. If she claims to be tackling issues like hunger or tribalism, citizens must demand actual results, not just publicity moves.

    It’s easy to dismiss Remi Tinubu’s actions as the usual excesses of a First Lady, but when public funds are involved, she’s no different from any other government official who should be held accountable.

    [ad]