If you were looking forward to the nationwide strike by the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) as a great excuse to lazy around for an indefinite time then you are going to be so disappointed.
These decisions happened yesterday, when Labour was supposed to be prepping their we-no-go-gree-o stance; but are we surprised that the strike was called off? No, we expected it.
The President of the United Labour Congress (ULC), Joe Ajaero, seemed to have foreseen this as well, which probably led to his statement about how the so called strike was dead on arrival because the “critical sectors that would make the strike to be successful were left out of the decision”.
I couldn’t agree more, considering that many a strike, prior to this, have been called off in order to engage in talks, yet nothing worthwhile is achieved. Oh well, this one remains to be seen.
Although, isn’t the NLC’s bark fast becoming louder than its bites?
Recently, while watching a TV programme, I saw a man being gifted an electric bike in a raffle draw, while I was pretty excited for him, I couldn’t help but wonder how weird this gift was considering the power situation in Nigeria.
So began the foray of various scenarios in my head:
Imagine if he was on 3rd mainland bridge and the battery got low while in dense traffic. Is this not gbege liadis?
How about when he wants to recharge? There ain’t no charging station for that purpose in this country! Even if there was, the epileptic power issues will pose a serious problem.
Just imagine how his electricity bill will triple once he constantly charges it.
What of when this electric bike needs maintenance and he takes it to the mechanic? Considering some of these roadside mechanics don’t even know how to repair ordinary Volkswagen’s Beetle how will they maintain his precious bike? Ha!
Okay, let’s assume he decides to sell it off – because cash flow – who will buy it from him? That thing will tey in his hands o.
Remember, when a certain senator proposed a bill to import electric vehicles into the country and was laughed out of senate? Yeah, well, he gave his constituents and a patron of his cinema, who was lucky enough to win the raffle draw, this motorcycle. Who is laughing last now?
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.
The subject of this story is a 42 year old driver I ran into at the Benin-Togo border during #JollofRoad. We had this conversation as we sorted out papers.
Tell me about your first job ever.
I drove a taxi in Ilorin in 1992. Back then, a trip cost anything from ₦1 to ₦5. Buses used to charge 50 kobo. I was so small, I used to sit on a pillow to drive. I was only 15 years old.
What made you start driving?
I actually ran away from home. I’d already learned how to drive because my dad had trucks. But I ran away from home because I felt I could be independent – wrong decision. They found me and brought me back that year, and it was hard adjusting.
Why?
I’d already touched money, and now I suddenly wasn’t having it. I just wanted something that’d give me money, so I started working as a bricklayer. I got paid ₦40 a day.
What about school?
I was in and out of school, so I didn’t even finish primary school until 1994 when I was 17. It was also in that year I had my first child.
Ehn?
We were in love, it was December 1993, a holiday o. Next thing in January like this, bele done set. I was scared.
So, what did you do?
I first ran away – fear. Of course I came back shortly after. My mum took the responsibility of me and their mummy, so she raised our child.
What about your lover?
Ah, my first Love. She didn’t want to continue the relationship at that time because I was an Omo Ita.
Anyway, that whole period made me start having small sense. I came back and did secondary school. My first WAEC, I did it in 2000. Then they took me to Ibadan and re-registered me for WAEC again. I remember how much my mum paid for that school – ₦21k. I started in SS3, at age 23 o.
How did it go?
I passed some of my papers – I failed literature – but I managed to get into a Polytechnic. It felt good. So in 2002, I resumed as a part-time student in a Polytechnic, Business Administration. Since it was part-time, I was able to go back to driving a taxi – my lectures were in the evening. The person who gave me the car to drive asked me to pay ₦800 per day. I was making like ₦2000. My route then was about ₦20 naira per passenger, and a full load was ₦5.
I was about to enter my second year when new wahala started.
What happened?
Cultists. They wanted to blend me. It got so bad that one night, I just went, returned the car, and left town. I moved to Abuja and never looked back.
Wait, just like that?
Actually, someone informed a man in Abuja that I knew how to drive. My first test was to drive to Abuja. Then I got transferred to someone, and that’s how that new life started as a personal driver in Abuja. I drove his wife and my first salary was ₦8,000. But the good thing is that I didn’t even have to spend anything out of that money. My boss was giving me everything I needed. The money just got deposited in my account, and I enjoyed all my other free benefits.
In fact, she’d give me food, pocket money, and even clothes. I worked with her until 2004.
Did you leave the job?
Wait, let me tell you the story. Remember the 8th All Africa Games? She was one of the people contracted to do some work there. We were working non-stop, getting very little sleep.
One day, I was there waiting for the next errand to run, when one of the caterers came and offered me food. I collected it straight, I was hungry.
As I started eating, my boss saw me and was like, “Nuisance! Who told you to be eating?” she kept going on and on. So I responded with one statement.
What?
I told her I wasn’t working anymore. She thought it was a joke. I headed back to the house to go get my things, but before I got there, she’d already called the house, telling them to not let me in. I just vexed and left my things too.
Ah ahn, where was this confidence coming from?
Money. All that money that I’d be saving, and one tiny phone. I was 26 years old at the time. I’d already touched a part of the money because I was sending money home for my parents and my kids. Still, I think I had over 100k.
After her husband asked me for the last time, I told him I was quitting. Then he gave me three months salary. And said, “I wish you the best of luck.” That moment was the first time since the drama started, that I wish I didn’t quit.
Then I started working for some Indians as a driver, helping them with other things.
What other things?
The first time I went to their workplace, they were looking for someone to help them clear a small bush. Since I already had experience doing that type of work, it was easy for me, and I just cleared it sharp-sharp. They liked me, and wanted me to be the one driving them.
Then one of the co-drivers blocked me one time.
Blocked you as in?
He told me that I was trying to take his job. He said he was going to kill me if I collected his “Oga’s driver” position. The Benz was mostly reserved for the senior driver, and that’s what these Indians wanted me to start driving.
Ah, so what did you do?
Whenever they asked me to come drive the Benz, I’d say, “Ah, I don’t really understand this Benz o. Let my senior drive it.”
I avoided the car like that. I also had new kinds of problems there.
What kind?
My salary was still 8k. But the difference between my last 8k and this 8k was that this one was my lifeline. No free food. No free anything. So I started trekking. I used to trek like 5km every day. Once in a while, I’d get free rides from one of my neighbours who worked close by.
Ah, it was hard o, because the moment they realised I could also do hard work, they turned me to Jackie – Jackie with no money. There was this place we used to sit down when we weren’t working, just outside the factory. I used to see a lot of these Inter-state commercial buses passing every time, and I used to ask myself, “Ah ahn, shebi you can drive?”
So one day, I walked up to one of the offices of one of the bus companies and told them I’d like to be one of their drivers. Next thing you know, they were sending me on errands, telling me to go drop this person, and that person.
What about your old job?
I left that place. I just focused squarely on how to become a full-time driver in this transport company. There was one man – the Oga of the place – that I was always getting assigned to. One day, he gave me a letter and told me to take it to Lagos. This was 2004 – I think I was 27.
That letter was him recommending me for training at their main office in Lagos.
Progress progress!
Yes o! But the day I entered Lagos, police arrested me.
Ah. How did that happen?
I crossed the express. They put me inside their bus and I met more people there. I was so confused. Next thing, people started stepping out of the bus one by one – they way bailing themselves.
The officers told me to bail myself, but one kobo, I no get. I told them that I’m a driver that came for training in Lagos. They didn’t listen. They drove around for like another one hour, picking people, and collecting money from them.
It was later that they realised that true-true, I didn’t have money. By the time they released me, I already missed the training, the next one was happening a week later.
I just sat down at the bus stop and cried sad tears and hunger tears. By chance, someone I knew from my Ibadan days was now a driver in Lagos, and he saw me. Staying with him was how I survived for the next one week.
One week later, I got selected as a driver. My first salary was 20k, and they added 2k every year.
Wait, I haven’t even told you about how I got married.
Interesting. Oya.
I met this woman, she used to come visit from outside Lagos. Anytime she came, we stayed in a hotel because I was squatting with someone. Then one time, she told me she wasn’t going to come and visit me if I didn’t get a place.
Sharp sharp, I rented a single room, 24k per year, I bought a bed and some other things. This was early 2007 o. When I told her, she didn’t believe. To show her I was serious, I called my mother to tell her I had someone I wanted to marry. Next thing, they started talking. Next thing, they invited my family.
While we were there, my mummy was telling everyone congrats.
Congrats for?
My wife, she was pregnant.
Wonderment.
Ah, next thing, her family said that they don’t marry with baby in their house. All these times, I was still confused. And what did my brother who followed me to see our in-laws do?
What?
He stood up from his seat, walked up to the calendar, and picked a date – just about 3 months from that day. Everything was confusing that day.
I wasn’t there, but even I am confused.
I asked my brother, abeg did you keep any money somewhere that we’re going to use to do this wedding?
I was about to ask you about the money part.
Ah, I spent money o. I spent over a million naira on that wedding.
I imagine your salary hadn’t reached 30k per month at this time. How did you raise 1 million naira of your own money?
Hahaha, I was actually making a lot of money. Drivers have different ways of making money. For example, everybody gets a fuel budget. If I don’t spend everything, I keep the rest. People also give me things to help them deliver. Sometimes, I could make up to 50k to and fro. The first lump sum of money I’d ever saved in my life, I used it for wedding. Can you imagine?
Anyway, that’s how that marriage thing went.
What came next?
I lost my job, one year later in 2008. One of the worst things that can happen to you as a bus driver is an accident. Good thing was, my bus was empty, so nobody died, but the bus was seriously damaged.
They sacked me. But then again, I got lucky.
You got another job?
Yes. Someone hired me to be his driver not too long after. That was the first time I ever drove a G-Wagon. I was paid 35k per month, at first. Then another 55k was added in some form of allowances.
Ah, that’s interesting.
Yes oh. We had a near-death experience and I handled it smoothly. Since then, he instructed that I get that allowance.
So how did that job go?
I spent a little over a year with him, before I quit again. This was in 2009. I was –
What happened again?
Some of his international clients came into the country for a while, so he assigned me to drive them. That meant that I had to find another driver to drive him around. When that driver resumed, I briefed him, telling him how important it is to be coded with whatever he sees working with Oga.
Coded as in?
He clubbed a lot, and drank a lot, so someone has to constantly watch so they don’t steal his things. Can you believe this boy went to go and tell Oga?
Ah.
My Oga now said that I was leaking his secrets, and then his attitude just changed. First of all, they cut all my allowances. Next thing, they brought out fuel receipts and said I was stealing money. When I approached my Oga about it, he said if I can’t pay, I should quit. I dropped the car keys right there. This was late 2009.
So what did you do next?
A lot. I drove the Lagos Red Cab for a while. Bought a small car and did public transport. Drove a delivery truck. Drove an Uber. Drove a delivery truck several times to Ghana, Benin and Togo. Bought a Sienna on hire-purchase for 1.4 million naira. The owner of the money brought SARS and collected the car back. I delayed that payment only once. I cried that day.
Man. What are you doing these days?
Driving still. Na here you see me so. I’m currently drivng cargo, across West Africa. Earning 90k a month.
What does 90k cover for you?
So, some years back, during that period that I was getting money, I actually bought land for 90k. Then I started developing it. Then moved my family there like two years ago. So, no more rent wahala.
Ah, your family.
Yes yes. My wife, my 5 children –
Ahhhhhhh.
Hahaha. The last two, mistakes. The fourth one, carelessness. The fifth one, birth control injection failed.
Plus the first child from your first relationship.
Yes o. Six. I’m still in touch with her, we talk. We’re in good terms.
What’s on your mind right now?
Right now, I just want to be able to save up and buy a small bus, so I can ply a route that will let me go home to my family everyday. I miss them a lot. My focus in this life is to make sure the kids always go to school. I can’t sleep well if their school fees or feeding money is not intact. Their mum doesn’t really earn much, so it’s me that has to take care of the financial part of the family. And that means not going home. I can sell my house to make sure they go to school.
One day, I came home and met the little one sleeping in my shirt and holding my picture. I cried.
How much money is sufficient for you right now?
Ah, 200k and I dey alright.
Expense breakdown
What do you think is the most important lesson life has taught you since 1992?
Most of the mistakes in my life have happened because I didn’t calm down before making decisions. Right now, I just want to focus on personal discipline and patience.
Check back every Monday at 9 am (WAT) for a peek into the Naira Life of everyday people. But, if you want to get the next story before everyone else, with extra sauce and ‘deleted scenes’, subscribe below. It only takes a minute.
October 1st is Nigeria’s Independence day. Yay! We celebrated her 59th yesterday. Gurrrrl, you’re getting old! Who would have thunk it? You’ve survived without colonial rule for this long? Wow, you deserve some accolades babe!
Well, many Nigerians are saying there isn’t much to celebrate. Do we consider the heightened insecurity issues this year? Or the constant kidnappings? Or maybe the increase in food prices? The bad infrastructure, depreciating amenities, sorry state of institutions or the huge unemployment problems? If I think of how Nigeria handled the xenophobic attacks to her citizens in South Africa I can’t help but be saddened.
Apparently, I’m not alone in my thoughts. Some Nigerians also aired their grievances with our ol’ gal on social media;
Dear Rhoda, I really wonder myself. If this is independence then I don’t want again. Even countries which our dearest Nigeria helped to gain independence are now so far ahead. Isn’t this a case of the white hen doesn’t reckon that it’s old (adiye funfun o mo ara re lagba)?
Meanwhile, remember when President Buhari made pledges to climate change when asked the youth question at the 74th United Nation General Assembly? Well, Nigeria needs that climate change like yesterday! What with the potholes that causes traffic which leads to serious air pollution; there’s also the oil spills to think of. How about the constant flooding?
Akah Nnani, Nigerian actor and media personality, is even more disgruntled about the sorry case called Nigeria…
But, you know there are some people that never say die because, what is dead may never die. So, some compatriots were very enthusiastic in their spoken word delivery. Honestly, I thought some of those spoken word videos making the rounds yesterday were just pure bullshit; except this…
Anyway, right now I’m sitting in four hours worth of snail pace traffic while writing this, so yeah, happy Independence day Nigeria. You’ve made your citizens oh so proud! You’ve also come a long way from your only problem being how to spend money to almost putting your children in penury; if not for their resilience!
The streets of Lagos are not for the fainthearted. If you are used to buses waiting for you to board or someone handing over your phone after picking it up from the floor then newsflash, You are on the wrong bus, get off! You missed your stop.
There are no good Samaritans here; everyone is a hustler and that’s why even the buses have been turned to a market place and no, solace for deep thoughts don’t exist. Different individuals get into a bus with different purposes. Here’s a list of a few personalities you are bound to meet in the:
Sellers
Notice the person with shifty eyes and a load? No, he’s not a thief, he’s gonna stand up a few minutes after kick off. He usually likes sitting by the door, you might even mistake him for a conductor, because of how helpful he is to the real one. But, no, that’s a strategy, his voice is about to boom through the bus for the next one hour. God help you if there’s traffic! Dr Dre’s got nothing on his bass. What he’s selling? A cure for all ills, he says. I suspect that his first buyer is his syndicate.
Wannabe Agbero
There’s always that one person that will change it for the conductor. Their madness is usually on a kapachumarimarichupako level. One moment they’re looking posh the next thing, “You dey craze? You think say na because I wear suit? I go change am for you oh!”
Conversationalist
It usually starts like this: “Auntie, this Lagos na wa o. All this road wan kill person. Last night I wan…” Do not respond, I repeat, do not respond! Oh gosh, you did? You’re about to have your head talked off, and I warned you o. Well, just get ready to hear how this person was there when Osama Bin Laden was shot down and oh, would you like to sign up to their VTU platform?
Naira defender
Yes, we all know that naira notes are greatly disrespected by Nigerians; mutilated notes here and there. But there are some among us who didn’t get the memo. Not going to mention their names. They get into a war of words with the conductor who refuses to change the bad money he gave them. He begrudgingly does though, usually with a clapback: “You never know anything for dis Lagos! Dem tell u say I dey print money for house? Na person gimme dis money.”
The Quiet Ones
oftentimes, if you didn’t get into the bus with them at the same time you might feel this people are dumb. But, no, self preservation is sacred to them; they know what to expect. They are old customers so they know the best thing is to plug in their earpiece to escape the madness.
Sleepers
This people just know how to drop off, you mostly find them in Ajah and Island buses in the morning. They don’t have time for music or talk, they just wanna sleeeeep.
The headlines have been short, scary and painfully familiar, spelling out different variations of the same message: “Xenophobic Attacks In South Africa.”
The story: the alleged shooting of a cab driver in Pretoria erupted into a wave of mob violence against African nationals in South Africa this week. Xenophobia is today’s trending topic of discussion, although the unfurling of the now-too-familiar #SayNoToXenophobia hashtag is the only reminder you need that we’re simply rehashing a very old problem.
In 2008, 60 people were killed and over 50,000 forced from their homes in violence against African nationals, according to Human Rights Watch. In 2015, similar attacks forced many foreign governments to repatriate their citizens from South Africa.
The recent violence is motivated by decades-old rhetoric that blames immigrants, particularly those from other African countries, of ‘stealing’ jobs and bringing crime into local communities. The sentiment was echoed by South African truck drivers who, on Monday, embarked on a wildcat strike protesting against their foreign colleagues. In videos circulating on social media, mobs can be seen shouting “Go Home” in the streets.
A closer look, however, suggests a disturbing connection between socio-economic conditions and the outbreak of these xenophobic attacks. The South African economy has been unstable for four years and counting. It shrank badly in the first quarter of 2019, amidst fears of an impending recession. There are other sources of discontent. The South African government still faces crises of representation and legitimacy, months after ex-president Jacob Zuma was ousted. Unemployment is worryingly high; more than 10 million people are unemployed, or 38.5% of people who could be working.
In the last few years, populist regimes and movements have emerged in almost every corner of the world. From Brexit to the Trump White House, it would seem the nationalist bug has now bitten South Africa. If there’s anything we’ve learned from Trump, it is that populism needs enemies. And when things go wrong, it often looks to offer up ‘minorities’ as the problem. It doesn’t help that immigrant population in South Africa has doubled in the last decade.
Add that to years of systemic oppression, apartheid and unfair land ownership laws and you can see how decades of discontent and anger are directed at an easy target – immigrants. Despite subsequent reports that the Pretoria shooter was not Nigerian, many have been killed, beaten, forcefully removed and had their businesses destroyed. It is an easier solution than the years of economic development, institutional restructuring and education that South Africa’s indigenous population, and Africans in general, should be asking for.
Received sickening and depressing news of continued burning and looting of Nigerian shops and premises in #SouthAfrica by mindless criminals with ineffective police protection. Enough is enough. We will take definitive measures. @NigeriaGov @DigiCommsNG @GovernmentZA@DIRCO_ZA
While the hashtag #WeHaveNoPresident silently indicts Nigeria’s notoriously lethargic President Buhari, Nigerians are outspoken about the attacks. Nigeria’s Foreign Affairs minister, Geoffrey Onyeama condemned the attack in strong language – so did the former minister, Oby Ezekwesili among other commentators and public personalities.
Social media has become the second battleground of sorts. Nigerian rapper, Ycee alluded to old tweets by AKA, which in turn led to a slew of ill-advised comments by the SA rapper that forced Burna Boy out of his social media hiatus with strongly-worded warnings to the former, MI and South Africa. Burna’s tweets have now been deleted.
The misplaced anger of South Africa’s xenophobia has also exposed problems in other African countries, most notably here at home in Nigeria. While the giants fought on social media, a spate of reprisal attacks began in suburbs of Lagos, Ibadan, Uyo and later, Abuja. They gradually descended into outright robbery, particularly in Lagos where two large malls were looted. “What does this have to do with South Africa?” is the burning question. First, nothing. Second, the answer has been staring us in the face for years.
Years of multidimensional poverty are festering like an open wound. The World Poverty Clock reports that Nigeria’s 87 million extremely poor people are the most of any country in the world. Over half the population of young people aged 15 to 35 are without work. The government is facing corruption allegations of its own. Amidst all of this, there is pervading sentiment that some classes & groups have managed to corner the good of the land for themselves. Sounds familiar?
These moments hold up a mirror to us as Africans. Two things have been made clear. As we learned yesterday, any cue to blame or antagonise a group in these times is an invitation to misplace anger and unleash violence. It doesn’t matter if it’s South Africa or Nigeria – oppressed, marginalised people react in the same way, whether there is a xenophobic agenda or not. It’s why many have warned that the looting in Lagos is a precursor to a violent class struggle that could follow the same script as the attacks in South Africa.
What happened in Lagos yesterday is an indication of what’s to come, it has nothing to do with Xenophobia or South Africans but a glimpse of what the middle class should expect from poor Nigerians who are waiting for a reason & an excuse to strike.
A few conspiracy theories have been thrown in the air: Why is this happening while Africa tries to get its act together? Why is this coming barely weeks after all 54 countries agreed to trade freely across the continent? Why did Burna Boy destroy his chance of winning a Grammy? Who has been hacking Babes Wodumo’s social media accounts? Is every Nigerian musician a cultist?
Whatever the angle, our biggest learning is that African countries have a huge job on their hands. Some say it’s a ticking time bomb. It is why it’s important to reiterate now more than ever that no country is the other’s problems.
The present path only threatens to drive us further apart, with the world watching. Reprisal attacks have begun in Zambia. Nigeria has just recalled her High Commissioner to South Africa and joined several African countries in shunning the World Economic Forum event holding in Johannesburg. Free Trade & Internal security were thought to be high on the agenda.
South Africa and Nigeria
What do the two have in common?
CORRUPTION + FAILURE OF LEADERSHIP + YOUTH BULGE + HIGH UNEMPLOYMENT + HIGH CRIMINALITY
In SA we have Xenophobia; in Nigeria, it is the underclass turning against the middle/upper classes
SA President Cyril Ramaphosa has spoken against the attacks. The Police have made over 60 arrests since Tuesday. But some of the silences are too loud. More South African leaders and monarchs need to condemn the violence in clear terms, and call their followers and constituents to order. These are small, necessary strides. Long-term solutions will be required to prevent a re-occurrence.
Africa’s governments need to get the message – the people need economic freedom. We also need to know our history, so that friends are not presented as enemies. For now, there’s little we can do but use our voices to #SayNoToXenophobia.
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Illustration by Celia Jacobs.
To get a better understanding of Nigerian life, we started a series called ‘Compatriots’, detailing the everyday life of the average Nigerian. As a weekly column, a new instalment will drop every Tuesday, exploring some other aspect of the Nigerian landscape.
This week, we’re telling the story of a young lady whose inability to get the answers to her burning questions about God, led to her shunning his existence entirely.
I’ll start the same way I used to start my days: with a word of prayer.
Thank you for seeking out knowledge, for learning the real rights and wrongs, for vesting accountability in no one but yourself and for actively seeking out the grace, to simply be.
In the past, my prayers would have been directed to an all-seeing, all-knowing messiah, whose existence both terrified and soothed me at my most trying moments. These days I keep things simple, directing all gratitude, supplications, and admonishments to a 5’5, chipped-tooth, second-hand clothes-wearing, indecision riddled human being — myself.
I grew up in one of Nigeria’s more conservative churches: popular for sermons which never deviate from salvation and godly living, its fame is eclipsed only by a set of rules, which even by Nigerian wholesome standards, call for some uncomfortable shifting in pews.
No television, no earrings, absolutely no unnatural extensions of any kind. ‘Sisters’ were encouraged to keep their hair covered in readiness for prayer, while women that chose to show off shapely calves in jeans were only highlighting body parts already simmering in the lake of fire. Attending church here was ostracising, judgment igniting and sometimes even laughter-inducing. But it was home and I loved it there.
Or at least I did until I turned 7. Which was right around the time I started losing teeth, a milestone that only left me determined to square up with a creator who reckoned my smile needed a big gap in the middle.
“Who is this God?”
“Where did He come from?”
“What is the source of His power?”
These were some of the questions I burdened my Sunday school teachers with at the time. I remember being disappointed with generic responses like “He is the Alpha and Omega” and “we don’t question where He came from.” This explained nothing. What if we were rooting for the wrong guy? An assertion that didn’t seem too far fetched, especially after the Holy Spirit entered my Shit List for ‘revealing’ to a Sunday School teacher — in full view of everyone — that I dared to wear braids to the House of the Lord. Never mind that my braids (an allowance of my liberal parents) were peeking out of my scarf, clear as day for man and spirit alike to see.
That is not to say it marked the start of my unbelief; that would come very shortly after. But from my tweens, right up until the very early stages of adolescence, I was a model, middling child of God. While I wasn’t crazy about observing weekday hours on weekends just to make it to church before 8 am, I did so with the unquestioning submission of a child still heavily reliant on her parents. I memorised Bible verses (all forgotten now), always completed a daily checklist of trinity prayers: upon waking, before eating and right before bed and I never once took the name of the Lord in vain. But something happened when I made the leap from shimis and a fresh face to training bras and an unbecoming pitch fuzz — I made the realisation that I really, really, didn’t like attending church.
Look, I don’t know what it is about being a teenager that transforms parents from being your cool, employed best friends, to the very last people you’d want to be stuck on earth with, but my parents got this end of the stick, and my heavenly father was no exception.
While my earthly parents were stuck with a teenager prone to mouthing unrepeatable things under her breath, the Lord got one unwilling to visit, even in his own house! I became masterful in avoiding church services, plotting my escape days ahead — blaming everything from phantom period pains to untraceable headaches. It was during these periods that those truly unanswerable questions, once again reared their heads:
“Who is this God?”
“Where did He come from?”
“What is the source of His powers?”
While my family was away, singing hymns and praising at the House of God, I was home alone, spending an unaccountable amount of time staring at a mirror, trying to come to terms with the fact that my reflection was indeed myself, a person fearfully and wonderfully created by a mysterious God.
As I got older, these questions matured as I did. Growing from merely interrogating the origins of my God, to attempting to make sense of His end goal. Where childish exuberance marked my early ploys to avoid church, at 17, they were my crutch to stay sane.
Post-adolescence was riddled with attempts to rationalise a God who would create a world of people, solely to worship Him. Who could orchestrate scenarios where safety was compromised, simply to guarantee your gratitude that He pulled you to protection. How could God create a world filled with multiple religions, each believing their tenets correct, but with such intricate devices of worship, only one could truly be correct? A God that fearfully and wonderfully created certain humans a special way, but opened them to damnation, per His book?
Who punished deviants from His word with an eternity spent consumed by a lake of fire. And rewarded adherents with a whole lifetime spent praising Him? Forever and ever, worshipping? I couldn’t help but conclude that if God were a man, I wouldn’t like Him very much.
By 19, I understood the appeal of religion and a higher power interceding, where humans might have failed. Especially in a country like Nigeria where uncertainty in safety, sustenance, and security are the order of the day. Where the promise of finally being able to find rest, in a levitating mansion in heaven, is almost literally the thought keeping many underprivileged citizens alive. It just didn’t make much sense to me.
At that age, I made a decision that marked the start of the rest of my life — a year without religion. One year where no one but I, took centre stage in my life. Where all the credit and blame for my grades went straight to me, and where only my hard work and intuition guaranteed me multiple streams of income in university. No divine grace or exceptions here.
From that year, I decided to wing this life thing. I’m finally done with asking questions with no definitive answers, I’ll just wait to maybe be proved wrong at the other side.
(A look at the events surrounding the protests of August 5.)
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So quick question: Where are we going as a country?
Back to the late 20th century, it seems. Is the “newly sworn-in” President Bubu scared that someone that is not his clone is coming to take over from him?
President Bubucakes insists he respects the rights of citizens to protest, but described organisers of the #RevolutionNow protests “as individuals merely seeking to attain power by violent and undemocratic means”. He insisted that the era of coups and “revolutions” were over. Could he be afraid of something? Could he be having a serious case of PTSD? I mean, it was in this same August in 1985 that he was overthrown in a coup led by General Ibrahim Babangida and other members of the ruling Supreme Military Council (SMC).
They arrested protesters in Osun and brutalised a woman and a journalist.
What the hell is going on here???
Under the sun and in the rain…
Despite heavy rain, protesters in Abuja weathered the storm and went ahead to protest. And if the rain couldn’t stop them, surely the police taking over their original venue the Unity Fountain, did not stop them. All they had to do was change locations. If the NYSC anthem was the theme for their protest, there would be a consistent emphasis on this part of the lyrics: “under the sun and in the rain.”
In Ibadan, the police laid siege at the main gate of the University of Ibadan to prevent the protest. They were successful in doing this but also succeeded in creating fear in the students and University occupants. Counteractive if you asked me.
Is this time any different from Occupy Nigeria of 2012? Not really. According to the National Secretary of the Committee for the Defence of Human Rights, Olayinka Folarin,“The word revolution is a predated statement that was even used by the people in government today, including President Muhammadu Buhari. In 2012, Goodluck Jonathan did not stop our nationwide protest at Ojota, and the people in the present government participated. They have become tyrannical and have started unleashing mayhem and terror on the good people of Nigeria after they took office.”
What’s that you said? Gbas-gbos.
As of today, a court has ordered the detainment of Sowore for 45 days while the police investigates the allegation of instigating the public and seeking a change of the present administration order than the provided constitutional means of doing so. against him.
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Every week, Zikoko asks anonymous people to give us a window into their relationship with the Naira. Some will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie–but all the time, it’ll be revealing.
The subject of this week’s story just hit 18. He’s also at his first 9-5 ever, as an intern. When he’s not in Nigeria as an intern or on holiday, he’s a student in the UK.
When was the first time that you wanted money and your parents were like, what for?
I think it was that time I wanted money for a website I was working on – I’d already spent £350. I spoke to a company that was supposed to do it, and they quoted $5000.
Then my parents asked, “How do you intend to get the money back? Have you thought about it? What sources of revenue will bring it back?” I couldn’t figure this out.
It made me start asking myself what the point of making something people could use, but still not have a way to sustain it.
Especially since it was something that would have running costs after.
Did you get the money eventually?
No. That was the end of the website. It’s interesting, school always encourages you to feel like you can do anything you want – and it’s true. But there’s a balance of opportunity cost. You can do this, but are you going to have the time? Are you going to be able to look at it properly? And most importantly, are you going to get it back?
That’s when I started tracking how much I made from commissions, how much I spent on equipment, and on financing the projects I was working on.
How old were you when you asked for the money?
16. I’d had other expenses before. Like there was this app that I needed to pay 100 dollars to keep on the app store. And they paid for that.
What are the things you do that fetch you money?
Graphic design and photography. I started designing when I was 14 – self-taught. Then album covers for friends in 2015. I charged like ₦5000 for each –
– Mad thing, but you just mentioned the naira for the first time.
Hahaha.
Okay, back to the things that fetch you money.
I didn’t earn a lot, because Nigerians didn’t see the value in it at the time. The question is, was I not finding the people who were willing to pay? Was I not good enough at the time? Or were people not just ready to give money to a 16-year-old?
Anyway, by the end of 2017, I was charging £100 per logo and £30 for posters.
What are some interesting things you’ve heard about money from your friends?
A couple of things. I’ve heard someone say she has to marry a rich husband. I think that was half a joke though. Hopefully. Then there are the ones that say, “It doesn’t really matter for now, my parents can cover stuff. Why am I bothered?”
Why now though?
I feel like I have a privilege I want to take advantage of. I don’t need to pay rent and I still get financial support from my parents, big time. At this point, I’m still making massive loss in a sense, because my expenses are way more than I’m making on my own.
I still have that advantage for the next two or three years. The way I see it, I’m making a time investment now, buying equipment now that I can, and setting things up properly. By the time I’m no longer under my parents’ care, the investments I’m making now, would make it easier for me.
If you come out of uni and you don’t have a job or means of income, it puts you at a disadvantage, because now you’re thinking about taking your life into your own hands. I feel like that’s what puts a lot of people into system jobs – it’s not really what you want to do, but it’s what’s available to you.
I want to avoid that period where I’m like, what the hell do I do?
That makes sense.
Truth is, there are friends in my circle that will probably get big ass grants from their parents as soon as they finish school. I might get that too, but the way my parents are, it’s not going to be something I’ll get easily. Also, there’s that part where I just want to make something of myself. My grandparents weren’t rich – in fact, they were on the verge of being poor. But my parents managed to make something of themselves. So I’m like, why do I have to wait for my parents when I can just improve on what they’ve already started?
That’s an interesting way to look at it.
I also think generational wealth can be a massive ego dump on kids. It can make kids feel like they’re better than other people. It’s one thing to be better off than other people, it’s another thing to think you’re better. It can be dangerous when you start to feel like the latter.
Okay, let’s talk about your monthly income.
I only just started getting a set monthly income – I’m currently in my first 9-5 as an intern.
People tend to have fixed expenses. But for me, my allowance from my parents is mostly meant to be lunch money. So, food is 60k. Then I spend 10k per week on cabs. I use cabs when my folks’ car is unavailable – that sounds bougie AF. Then I have a bunch of subscriptions: about 24k in total.
Do you feel like you should be earning more money?
Yes! I undercharge big time. One thing you can’t change is perception. If I was 25, doing the things I’m doing now, I’ll probably be able to charge a thousand pounds for a logo. When you’re working with a 25-year-old, you know they have bills to pay, and you won’t want to do them a disservice. Also, I don’t have that much work experience, so people don’t trust me very much even after seeing my portfolio. It’s like people aren’t sure if it’s a fluke or a valid representation of skillset.
If I was producing this type of work at 25, I’d be earning way more.
How much do you imagine you’d earn if you were 25 today?
That’s a good question. I’ve never thought about that. Assuming I stop working 9-5, and some things I’m trying to put it in place is set up the way I want them to be, I’ll be able to make about £3000 a month. I dunno if I’ll be working in Nigeria, but if I work here, probably a mill a month. Now that I’ve said this, I would probably have to check back when I’m 25 to see if I was just chatting kid shit or not.
How much do you think it would cost to fund age 25?
Like, if I had to pay for everything myself? Per month…? Wait. How much is rent?
Let’s start with where you live, how much do you think it costs?
I have no fucking clue. How much is rent? Wow, there’s so much you have to think about when you’re old. Filling your car up with petrol. Electricity bills. Food. Faaji. I don’t know how much that costs! I can’t even start to think about it.
You see, this is one of my fears because the money I’m making now doesn’t mean much. Someone actually working might spend it on petrol in a month.
By the “money I’m making,” are you talking about the 165k?
Okay… This is so confusing because I know that the average earning for an entry-level person in Nigeria is between ₦50k and ₦200k per month. This has me fucked up because I feel like rent for a house where I live will be more than that. Unless I’m delusional. How much does a bank teller earn?
About 50 to ₦80k.
Yeah! That’s actually what I’m actually referring to. I’m so confused as to how someone would earn ₦30k from a full-time job and not be dead.
That’s minimum wage, and I know a couple of people who earn less.
How does a person even survive? Where would you live in Lagos? You can barely live on a bank teller’s wage in Lagos. How would you do this on a minimum wage…? That’s quite scary! How do you hack this?
What do you think?
You can squat…?
That’s the thing – growing up the way I did, you don’t get a full insight into the way Nigeria really is. It’s almost unfair to us, because without understanding exactly what’s going on around you, how do you even begin to help? A lot of people my age say that Lagos is actually a great place.
In your circle
But there are people living in a manner that seems impossible on paper. When we don’t see that, you start to ask, who’s done us the injustice; is it our parents? Probably. Because when you don’t see that, how are you supposed to even appreciate what you have? How do you even begin to think of how to help the country as a whole or the people on the other end of that shit?
Going to work every day made me realise that low-income earners are packed into some areas, and no one cares about them. I saw people bathing outside, not because they chose it, but because the communal shower space is open, visible from the street. It’s like slum living.
It is slum living.
Everyone has privileges, but when did you first realise yours?
Between the time I was 8 and 10, and probably from a couple of places. My parents had people working in the house, and I think from that point, I noticed some differences. We’d travel, but the domestic workers didn’t. I wouldn’t say that’s when it became apparent. At that time, it was just like, that’s life.
But then, the true realisation came in this period of my life. It was last year I started to realise that one of the reasons Nigeria is the way it is, is because a lot of the things we use are imported ideas. Remnants of colonisation. If you ask me, the reason Nigeria looked and felt better just after white people left is that the information was just passed down.
After that – and this is theory – more and more people started migrating to cities. When people come from less developed places, they pick up what’s left of what was taught. Enforcement isn’t as strict, and people start to get away with more and more, the level of how well stuff works just degrades. And more people come in and pick up the remnants and bad habits.
Another thing as well is, we’re not very innovative. We haven’t thought for ourselves how to make stuff work for us. And the only way these people can learn how stuff should even begin to work properly is from exposure. And you can only really gain exposure by going to places where things work the way they’re supposed to.
My new point of realisation was that, not only are people not financially empowered, they are also – for lack of a better word – not mentally empowered. Because there really isn’t much thinking going on.
How are you supposed to think about what you can’t conceive? What does a person working in the market think about on a day to day basis? It’s hard to think about much when you’re in hardship, because all you can think about is, “Where is my next meal coming from? How much have I made today?”
Coming to the point where I realised that thinking about innovation is not evenly spread among Nigerians is the point where I realised my privilege properly.
Okay, okay. Let’s talk about other stuff. What’s something you really want but you can’t afford?
A car. I actually really want a car. I’m currently borrowing my mum’s car, but I want to borrow as little as possible. I want everything to be clear, like “this is my own person as an adult.”
You’re in a hurry to adult.
That’s what my parents say. There’s the thing about ‘waiting to be matured’ that people say. I don’t get it. It’s not as if we’re getting stupider as a species. Why do I have to be babied? I don’t believe you can truly accept responsibility until you’re given responsibility. Raising kids without giving them responsibilities is kind of dumbing them down.
What are old people’s assumptions about 18-year-olds and money that piss you off?
Because I spend a lot, people assume that I’m not saving for the future or something. I’m not stashing money now so I can get things that’ll help me stash money later. Another fucking assumption is that I dunno how much it means to be an adult. Because… apart from rent and shit… Wait.
Hahahaha.
Okay in retrospect, it’s actually true. I dunno. But a lot of people feel all the money I get goes to enjoyment.
Let’s talk about enjoyment. What’s a good day out?
Probably spending 10 to 15k on one meal. Fuckkk. That’s my guilty pleasure. Not much else. I don’t actually spend much on wayward enjoyment.
Financial happiness. On a scale of 1-10.
Right now? I’m very fucking happy. I think I’ve finally reached a point I wanted to get to. At this point, I can say that if my allowance was taken out, I won’t be affected. I’ll still be able to run as my own person.
The constant struggle to be your own person.
Pretty much.
What’s something you wanted me to ask that I didn’t ask?
The only thing missing is how much my parents spend on me, which I honestly dunno. Like, kids are just one big ass investment. But it’s probably pushing £50k a year.
How much of a chunk do you think that takes out of their finances?
I wouldn’t even know to be honest. Oh wait, I just checked the listing of the house when they bought it.
How much did it cost them?
₦150 million.
This story was edited for clarity.
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If you’ve ever complained about the cost of music streaming services (Spotify, Boom Music, Pandora, Apple Music etc) in Nigeria and thought that someone (you) has to do something about it, here’s your chance. Here is a guide on how to make your own Nigerian illegal music website.
Now you can be the Nigerian music industry’s version of Robin Hood.
1) Register your site’s name with the “.ng” domain.
Because even though you’re going to be up to your chin in piracy, you still want to be patriotic.
2) Put a terribly plain banner at the top of the page with your logo in a corner for some reason.
Screw the rest the empty space. Screw aesthetics. SCREW THE SYSTEM.
3) Make the ENTIRE page a banner adso that when anyone clicks on anything for the first time, it takes them to another site that is sure to embarrass the hell out of them (if they’re in public).
Is…is that Smeagol?!
Clicking on anything on your site should immediately take the person to a website full of “sex-starved middle-aged cougars looking to make platonic friends“.
Either that or a betting site.
4) Scatter hella intrusive ads across the screen.
If you can get your hands on those ones that follow you about as you scroll, that’ll be awesome. The more annoying, the better.
5) Offer up artiste’s brand new songs and albums to download for free.
6) Add a recording of someone’s voice screaming the name of your website on every song.
At the beginning and at the end. Also, alter the name of every song and album song to include your website’s name. So they NEVER forget where it came from.
7) Occasionally throw (bizarre and jarring) editorial content in between posts announcing new releases in an attempt to distract people from the real reason your website exists.
Now you can call your website a music blog.
Now that we have your attention, here’s a really important message:
