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  • Inflation has generally made it more difficult to live comfortably in Nigeria, but for Faridah*, it’s robbing her of her mother’s legacy.

    She talks about enjoying the fruits of her mother’s generosity to others, deciding to follow in her mother’s footsteps, and how the high cost of living might be changing her values. 

    As told to Boluwatife

    Everyone says their mother is their hero, but I actually mean it when I say the same. My mum passed away when I was 7 years old, but her life still inspires and teaches me so much. I’ve always wanted to be like her.

    I don’t have many real-life memories of my mum, but I’ve heard so many stories about her that it feels like I actually knew her. While my dad came from a wealthy family and had always known how it felt to have money, my mum didn’t come from the same privilege. 

    My maternal grandparents were farmers who barely made enough to feed their children and send them to school. My mum and her siblings often had to hawk plantain and corn to support the family. That experience growing up made my mum more in tune with people who also had little to live on. 

    So, as soon as she started making money, she began helping people around her. I’ve heard about how my mum used her nursing profession to provide free healthcare for people in the community. Sick people would come to our family house, and my mum would use her own money to buy the injections she needed to treat them. 

    I’ve met at least three people who said my mum helped birth them and didn’t charge their parents. If she wasn’t assisting people with free medication, she was giving them food and money. My dad constantly shares stories about how he’d give my mum money to buy a bag of rice and come home to see that my mum had shared half of the bag’s contents with our neighbours. 

    Or when she’d use the money meant for our foreign Christmas clothes to buy slightly cheaper ones so she could buy Christmas clothes for the neighbours’ children, too.

    You only had to tell my mum you liked the necklace she had on, and she was ready to take it off and give it to you. That was the kind of woman my mother was. She died in a car accident in 2005, and I wish I had spent more time with her. My only consolation is how much her good deeds have opened doors for me all my life. 

    My dad told me the story of how he didn’t pay my school fees for my first three years in secondary school simply because of my mum. He lost his bank job in 2008, just as I was rounding up primary school. According to my dad, he had already started the process of getting me into a public school since he could no longer afford the private school my siblings had attended. 

    Then, the private school’s principal — who had been friendly with my mum — called my dad to ask why she hadn’t seen me come to resume school. My dad explained the situation, and she said, “Why will Mummy Sara’s* daughter attend a public secondary school when I’m alive?”

    The principal made sure my dad enrolled me in her school and refused to collect school fees. She said my mum had done her so much good that it would be a crime not to pay it forward to her children. I’d have probably gone the whole six years not paying anything if my dad hadn’t gotten a job in another state when I finished JSS 3 and moved us away.

    When I first got into uni and was trying to do my registration, one of the school staff saw my surname and asked if I was related to my mum. I confirmed, and the man practically ignored others and started attending to me. He never told me how he knew my mum, and I didn’t bother to ask.

    I’m also lucky to share an uncanny resemblance with my mum. Whenever I return to our state, I already know I’ll get stopped by at least one person and asked if I’m the daughter of Mummy Sara. Prayers and stories of how my mum helped them often follow. Some even squeeze money into my hands. This doesn’t just happen to me; my siblings experience it, too.

    These experiences made me decide early on that I wanted to be as generous as my mum. It’s not my first instinct to help people; I think I got that from my dad. But after my registration experience at uni, I decided I wanted to follow in my mum’s legacy. I wanted to have a name that’d open doors for my children.

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    So, I began deliberately offering financial help and assistance. I lived in a school hostel for much of uni and made it a point to share my food always. Of course, sometimes I felt like my roommates took advantage of it, especially when they wouldn’t buy water and wait for me to buy for the entire room. But I refused to get angry.

    I started buying food randomly for my class colleagues and recharge cards for the course rep. I was an efiwe, so I also started taking tutorial classes. My dad gave me a ₦30k monthly allowance, which hardly lasted three weeks because I made sure to lend money to anyone who complained. I also made it a tradition to visit orphanages on my birthdays and share food items with the children.

    Since graduating from university, generosity has remained a big part of my life. During NYSC year, I took in two people and allowed them to live rent-free in the apartment my dad got me because they had accommodation issues. I also made it a habit to buy random gifts for my friends.

    When I started working in 2022, I had to take a more streamlined approach to giving. My dad wasn’t giving me an allowance anymore, and I had to budget to survive on my ₦120k salary. But even with that, I usually budgeted at least ₦20k for random giving and loans monthly. When my salary increased to ₦250k in 2023, I increased my monthly giving budget to ₦50k.

    However, I’ve had to cut back on giving since around December 2023. With transportation costs constantly increasing because of fuel prices and the drama of food costs now, I hardly retain any extra cash at the end of the month to do anything, much less be generous. 

    It’s funny how I comfortably lived on ₦80k – ₦100k in 2022 and still had some money left to save. But I earn more now, and it feels like I spend all my money on food, transportation, and data. Last month alone, I spent ₦90k transporting from my house in Surulere to work in Victoria Island. I spend like ₦80k just to feed myself monthly. Imagine if I wanted to share food with others.

    It’s a struggle to save ₦10k monthly. My dad pays my rent, but I still have to handle utility bills and Band-A electricity tariffs, and it feels like I’m constantly struggling.

    I can’t afford to buy random gifts for my friends anymore, and I’ve also had to cut down on outings. I constantly feel bad whenever someone asks me for a loan, and I have to explain that I don’t have cash to spare. Everyone understands when I say no because I’m usually generous—some even try to confirm I’m fine and whether I need money too so they can borrow for me. But it still feels like I’m not meeting people’s needs.

    The worst thing is, I’m barely 26, and it already feels like I’m struggling to survive. What about when I have family responsibilities? Where will I get extra money to help people then? Maybe it was easier for my mum to extend a helping hand because money actually meant something in those days. It feels impossible to try to reach her standards with how inflation and the economy are moving these days.

    I’ll keep trying my best, but it feels like an exercise in futility — no thanks to our rubbish government. 

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: My Father’s Money Is His, and It’ll Probably Never Be Mine

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  • In three, two, one, zero, relationship people will start tensioning us with matching pyjamas photos for the Christmas and New Year seasons. But who says you must give your hard-earned money to an IG vendor for a nightgown you’ll only wear once?

    Listen, if Tinubu has forced you to work on a budget, we have even better alternatives that won’t cost you a dime. Everything you need is already in your house; you just haven’t paid attention, so we’re here to help.

    The last family asoebi you bought

    If you’re from a Nigerian home, there’s no way you haven’t paid unnecessary money for a family member’s asoebi this year. Even though the function has passed, who says you can’t bring that fabric out of retirement and wear it again? It helps that everyone in your household has the same fabric.

    The bedsheet

    No, because really, what shows a united family more than you and every member of your family wrapped under the biggest bedsheet in your household, posing in front of the camera? It’s zero cost, too.

    Or the curtain

    If the bedsheet is a revolting idea, probably because of all the bodily fluids that might have been spilt on it, use your house curtain instead. You don’t even need to take it off the hook. Just run behind the curtain and poke your heads around the edges. This might even start a TikTok trend.

    Sutana

    You’re wrong if you attend a white garment church and still spend extra money on matching pyjamas. The Lord will even be pleased with this one.

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    Bagco bag

    You’ll need to channel your inner Tiannah Styling for this one. Gather all the sacks you’ve used for market runs since the start of the year, and get creative with styles for your family members. You all might look like live tubers of yam, but if Tiannah can pull it off, so can you.

    White underwear 

    If the Kardashians can do it with Skims, nothing is stopping you and your family members. Just make sure everyone washes their white singlets, boxers, tights, and “shimi” for the big day in front of the camera. 

    Or just wear whatever you want

    And nobody is going to drag you for it. You did what you did, and that’s on periodt. Puurrrrhhh.

    Read this next: Who Will You Wear Matching Pyjamas With This Year?

  • Breakups have a way of sneaking up on you, and sometimes, the signs are clearer in hindsight. 

    We spoke to seven people about the unforgettable moments leading up to their breakups. Here’s how they knew it was over—or didn’t.

    Blessing*

    I dreamt we had a huge fight, and he said he was breaking up with me. Our relationship was in a delicate place at the time, and all the reassuring we’d been doing wasn’t working anymore. When I woke up, I saw several voice notes from him about how glad he was that we had crossed paths and how beautiful the future looked for us. I should have known he was fattening the cow for slaughter. The next day, he invited me to dinner and gave me the most impeccable “It’s not you, it’s me” sermon I’d ever heard. I couldn’t even be mad because he presented his case so well that I nodded in agreement. He dropped me home that night, and that was when it dawned on me.

    Bukola*

    That whole week, I knew something was off. He was acting erratic—buying me things I’d asked for ages ago, then swinging into bad mood. I got the dreaded “We need to talk” message on Friday night on WhatsApp. I didn’t overthink it; I just assumed I’d done something wrong, and he was finally ready to address it. I went to bed, scrolling through our pictures and throwback videos. The next day, I found out his “need to talk” was actually a breakup. I didn’t see it coming, and it messed me up.

    Debbie*

    We broke up on a Tuesday. The night before, he didn’t call to say goodnight or chat about my day, which was weird because it was a tradition we’d followed for as long as I could remember. I assumed he’d had a long day or that his work trip to Ogun had tired him. I told myself I’d bring it up the next day. Jokes on me because there was no “us” the next day. I woke up to a long breakup text he sent in the middle of the night, knowing I’d be asleep.

     [ad]

    Ayo*

    The day before? It felt like any other day. We spent it at my place since we were both on leave. We cooked, watched our favourite TV show while cuddling, went for a run, and had the best sex ever. Something about the intimacy felt different, though—she let me do things she’d usually stop, and I let her do things I wasn’t a fan of. That night, we fell asleep listening to our favourite playlist. The next morning, she asked to talk and then dumped me.

    Raymond*

    The day before, I had small panic attacks. I felt this unsettling sense that something was coming, even though I didn’t know what. When I feel like that, I pray and try not to leave the house, hoping I can hide from whatever evil is out there. The next day, she called me in the evening and broke up with me. Worst part? She was already seeing someone else.

    Ibrahim*

    She’d been cold and distant for three weeks before the breakup—cancelling plans, dodging my attempts to communicate and acting uninterested. The day before my birthday, I tried to get her to come over to plan what we’d do. She made up some weird excuse about her granny, and it didn’t add up. Thoughts of getting dumped started creeping in; I didn’t want to believe it. The next morning, a delivery guy showed up with a huge package from her. I thought all the weirdness had been part of a plan to surprise me. I opened the note, and that’s how I found out I’d been dumped. She didn’t even let me enjoy my birthday in peace.

    Henry*

    The day before, we had this heavy, emotional conversation. We were both crying, explaining how we were unintentionally hurting each other. We talked at my place, and afterwards, she insisted on returning home to Ajah, even though it was 9 p.m. and I live in Surulere. I tried to convince her to stay, but she was determined to leave. As her ride pulled away, something inside me knew it was the last time I’d see her. I was right—she broke up with me the next day and left for her master’s two months later.

    Read this next: All the Ways Friendship Breakups Are Worse Than Romantic Ones

  • Friendship is the best kind of ship, but let’s be honest — some icks can stop it from ever setting sail. We spoke to five young Nigerians about their friendship icks and why certain behaviours just won’t fly with them.

    Toyin*

    One of my big friendship icks is irresponsible drinking. I once had a friend nearly die of alcohol poisoning at my place after a party. Worst night of my life. The anxiety was so bad, and I couldn’t even think of how I’d explain it to his family. Now, if I see you like getting wasted at a function? I’m out.

    Tayo

    My ick is people who say hurtful and insidious things when they’re angry and expect forgiveness later. It’s so thoughtless to freely hurt others and use anger as a cop-out or an excuse. That’s a big no from me.
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    Bolu*

    I can’t vibe with someone who treats service staff— waiters, security people, anyone—like trash. I used to work as a server, so I know how awful customers can be. Once I catch that attitude in a friend, it’s over.

    Fola*

    My friendship ick has to be banger boys or girls. Especially on X, once I see you’re one of those people who make comments like  “Vawulence” or “They’re coming for you now omg” under anything controversial, I cringe so hard. I can’t do it, sorry.


    Doyin*

    I can’t be friends with a taker. It gives me a massive ick if you’re someone who has to be prompted before you reciprocate. I don’t even mean materially, but if I’m the only one calling, texting or reaching out first, it just won’t click.

    Enjoyed this piece? Read this next: My Best Friend Left Nigeria Without Telling Me

  • Ever wonder what song perfectly captures the essence of your teenage experience—those years of emotional rollercoaster, self-discovery, and unforgettable songs?

    We asked seven Nigerians about the songs that evoke memories of laughter, heartbreak, and pain and embody their adolescent years.

    Rico*, 27

    If my teenage years were a song, it’d be Jidenna’s Classic Man Remix with Kendrick Lamar. I see the song as a motivator to man-up fast after losing my dad in 2016. I listened to it a lot during that time, and it makes sense now. Music has helped me achieve most of what I do today creatively. For years, everything was dark, and I was plugged out from the world because of trauma — the song was all I had. It was originally released in 2015. I was 17.

    Lola, 26

    I was 17 when I first heard and fell in love with Hello by Adele. Its tempo, lyrical depth, and production are so deep to me. I was a teenager finding myself, having feelings, and understanding why I was having those feelings. Teenage boys were brutal, and I was a “learner” as a teenager. I was a yearner as a teen, and that’s what the song gives.

    Also, it gave me a feeling of “I’m no longer a baby, but I’m not also a grown-up.” The song helped me navigate the period. Sometimes, I wish I was still the deep yearner that I was then. But omo, okunrin ya were gan. 

    David, 24

    This takes me back to when I was 15 years old, and Yaadman FKA Yung L’s SOS was the most rinsed music on my phone. I loved everything about it from the song’s lyrics to its ambience. It sounded different from the dominant sound at that time too. I consider it the soundtrack to my teenage life because I was Yung L’s biggest fan at that point. People even called Marley till I entered 100 level. If I had money, I wouldn’t mind sending him money for the weekend, just to make him constantly drop gbedu for me.

    Nma, 26

    The perfect song that defines my teenage years would be Fela Kuti’s Shakara. Growing up, I enjoyed feeling myself and I did things that made me feel like I’m that babe. From wearing high heels and dressing up, learning how to do makeup, and just being girly, the spirit of Shakara was my motivator.

    Chioma, 23

    It’s Meghan Trainor’s All About That Bass, and when I first heard it, I was 14. It was the first song I had heard where the plus-size babe was just feeling herself and doing her thing. I was a “fat-ish” kid, and it felt nice to hear her sing the lyrics.

    I liked the words. Honestly speaking, I liked everything about the song, and I still do.

    Back then, it just felt nice to hear her talk about loving her body, and how every inch of her was perfect. NGL, it still does. I think it lowkey taught me to love myself a little bit more. I played that song so much, I started believing what she said. My favourite part of the song: “Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top.”

    Adeyinka, 31

    It’d have to be Ebenezer Obey’s Anjade Loni Eledumare. I first heard it when I was maybe 15-ish? Can’t exactly remember now but I know it was a prominent song in our house during my secondary school days.

    I loved how melodious it sounded and even more, how it made us bond as a family. It’s that song I could put on if I’ve offended my mum and I want to see her sing. I mean, who would listen to the powerful lyrics about getting protected as you go out in search of your daily bread, and wouldn’t sing along.

    I’d say it’s pretty significant because even though I thought I knew how weighty the lyrics were back then, I have an even deeper context now as an adult. I like every part of the track, to be honest.

    Zoey*, 22

    It would be Vienna by Billy Joel. I was 17 when I first heard the song, and it really spoke to me. The opening line is, “Slow down, you crazy child! / You’re so ambitious for a juvenile.” I called it (still call it) the theme song of my life. It was a reminder to take things easy at that point.

    I’ve always been super ambitious, and because I’m used to being the youngest in any room I find myself in, I hold myself to a very high standard. At that point in my life, I was trying to be the best at everything. I was obsessed with speed, and it started feeling dangerous at some point. I liked how the song calms me down and reminds me that I’m still a juvenile. There’s a part that says, “Slow down, you’re doing fine / You can’t be everything you wanna be before your time” or something like that. It also helps that it’s such a pretty song. I only share it with people I hold dear to my heart.

  • The origin story of most freelancers, digital creators, remote workers and basically anyone in the gig economy is usually the same: Full-time employment stops being as fulfilling, and you suddenly realise you’re great at doing your own thing.

    Then, you enter the gig economy and discover it’s a whole different ball game, and you have to handle things like:

    Building a personal brand

    You want potential clients and your target audience to see you as someone who knows what they’re doing, so now you have to worry about building authority in your field and constantly showing up. In other words, you have to brag about your skills even if imposter syndrome is choking you.

    Figuring out how to make money

    Now, people know you can do what you claim to know. But how do you start charging for it? How do you meet your first client? So many questions!

    And then, not underpricing yourself

    Then, you start worrying about whether you’re charging too much money or not charging enough. Thankfully, the Sentz Webinar Series — brought to you by Sentz, a global payment app designed to cater to the unique needs of the Nigerian freelance market — has sessions directed at giving creators practical knowledge about things like this. If not, how we for do?

    Handling clients on your own

    Clients can determine whether you make money or sleep under the bridge, so now you must learn how to manage expectations, maintain cordial relationships, and ensure they have a good enough experience to refer you to others. Not difficult at all. 

    Casting your client nets overseas

    You’ve heard you can work with foreign clients as a creator and earn in dollars. But where exactly do you meet these clients? Will they just come? How do you manage cross-border payments? Well, the Sentz Webinar Series to the rescue again. They have several sessions that speak to these topics, and the next session is on November 8, 2024.

    Being consistent

    You’re still human; sometimes, you just want to rest from showing up daily. That’s why you must have strong processes in place so your brand doesn’t suffer if you take a day or two off.

    Building a community

    No one is an island, and this is especially true for everyone in the gig economy. You’ll need to connect with fellow freelancers and creators and update your knowledge regularly. This can be difficult to do on your own, which is why you shouldn’t miss any session in the Sentz Webinar Series. 


    In the last session, Adeife Adeoye, founder of Penpalms and Remote WorkHER, spoke about how to move from earning $1,000 to $10,000 as a freelancer. On Friday, November 8th, Toyosi Godwin, a freelance content writer, will share expert tips on attracting foreign clients and freelancing without borders. Click here to register now!

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  • If you’ve ever dated a Nigerian politician, you know the experience is a rollercoaster that leaves you questioning your life’s choices. Between the endless trips to Abuja for “party meetings,” the constant spiritual fortifications, and the stinginess that somehow vanishes in public, the cons sometimes outweigh the pros.

    We spoke to seven people who have been in relationships with politicians, and let’s just say they’ve been through a lot.

    What’s It Like Dating a Politician? We Asked 7 Nigerians

    Lola*

    They’re relentless in their pursuit of power. My husband started running for a councillor position in his early 30s as a committed PDP member. But Lagos was mostly AC at the time, and he kept losing. After contesting three times, I and other family members advised him to try a different party or redirect his resources, but he refused and stayed with PDP, losing every time. He finally switched to APC when they took over Lagos, and after some waiting, he got the ticket and is now in his second term. Thinking about it, he spent nearly 12 years chasing that seat—ridiculous. This dedication is only shown in politics; it’s not like this in other areas of his life.

    Hassan*

    What’s really going on in Abuja? I get it’s the seat of power, but why do politicians need so many trips there? My girlfriend, a youth leader in her ward, makes at least one unplanned Abuja trip every month. If it’s not Abuja, it’s another state for a convention or meeting. I hate it because it makes planning anything as a couple impossible—she always has to check with her “leaders” first.

    James*

    I’ve never dated a politician, but my mum is a dedicated party woman, and I wonder how my dad copes. She’s out of the house most of the time for party meetings. The only benefit is the freebies—cash gifts, foodstuffs, and ad-hoc job opportunities. During festive seasons, we also get bags of rice, gallons of oil, and sometimes even livestock. I honestly can’t remember the last time we bought foodstuffs ourselves.

    Grace*

    Between politicians and yahoo boys, I don’t know who’s more fetish. During election season, it’s crazy. I’d open my ex’s wardrobe to find all sorts of concoctions and odd-looking containers. His perfumes even had particles, and some alfa, pastor, or herbalist always came to deliver something. I couldn’t relax around him because, after a while, I wasn’t sure if those “protections” were for safety or harm.

    Ayo*

    Politicians aren’t as generous as people think. I dated a local government chairman once, and he was stingy AF. He preferred impressing outsiders over spending on those close to him. Once, someone from his family even messaged me, begging me to convince him to pay his kids’ school fees. Imagine that—he wasn’t even giving me money like that. I haven’t been with other politicians, but that experience was all I needed to know they aren’t all that.

    Bisi*

    My university boyfriend was heavily into student politics, and I’ve never seen anyone with such deep trust issues and paranoia, especially around elections. If he walked past a group, he’d convince himself they were talking about him. Sometimes, he’d join their conversations to put in a good word. He even made his friends swear they wouldn’t betray him. It was exhausting. We broke up after uni, but I can only imagine the paranoia if he’s still in politics.

    Patience*

    They don’t take defeat well. My husband campaigned for Obanikoro in 2007, and I still remember when they declared Fashola the winner. He came home two days later and sank into a depression—he wasn’t eating, talking, or sighing constantly. I didn’t get it; he was more devastated than the actual candidate. Eventually, I called his family to come and snap him out of it.

    Read this next: What’s It Like Dating a Medical Practitioner? We Asked 6 Nigerians

  • Does your dad have a mysterious “close friend” whose kids call him Uncle, even though they look suspiciously like him? Is there a familiar face that keeps popping up on your social media feed, or an awkward silence whenever you ask about an unfamiliar face in the family photo album? If you answered yes, it might be time to wear your investigative cap and prepare yourself.

    We know the signs to look out for before these secret step-siblings show up unannounced in future.

    1. Suspicious family gatherings 

    If certain “family friends” always make it to your family events, and they seem overly familiar with your parents, that might be a sign. Especially if they don’t really talk to anyone else but somehow know all the family gossip.

    2. Unexplained phone calls and messages

    Screenshot

    If your parent takes calls in hushed tones or leaves the room to “catch up” with someone who’s not in your contacts, you might have some siblings they’re not telling you about.

    3. Overly generous family friend gifts

    If a “family friend” sends your parent generous gifts, funds, or long messages on your birthdays or other milestones, it’s worth wondering if they’re more than just friendly gestures.

    4. Mysterious photos around the house

    If you notice random photos of unfamiliar children in your family albums or at your grandparents’ house, and your parents get awkward when you ask, that’s a big red flag.

     [ad]

    5. Family members who look like you

    If you’ve ever bumped into someone who looks eerily like you or shares certain family traits (same nose, same eye shape), especially if you’re in the same town, you might have uncovered a sibling.

    6. Weird responses from older relatives

    When older relatives mention a mysterious “other family” and quickly change the topic, that might be them trying not to spill a big secret.

    7. Odd social media friend requests

    If people with family names you don’t recognise pop up in your “People You May Know” or try to friend you on social media, especially around your parent’s age or younger, take note.

    8. Secretive road trips

    If your parent “just has to step out” for day-long road trips that they can’t really explain, it might be a meetup with another family.

    9. Over-familiar strangers

    If someone at the grocery store or out in public randomly approaches you and seems to know an unusual amount about your family, it could be a hint.

    Read this next: I Don’t Think My Siblings Like Me

  • Missing your long-distance friends can hit different. It doesn’t matter that they annoy TF out of you within minutes of being together, you just want to have them around again and do stupid shit together. 

    If you’re looking for an “I miss you” message that lets them know just how much their absence is messing with you, these love messages for your long distance friends will have them feeling the love from miles away.

    20 Thoughtful “I Miss You” Messages for Your Long Distance Friends
    • “I was just thinking, it’s been way too long since we had a proper catch-up. Miss you so much, and we need to plan something soon.”
    • “Missing you hits harder on days like today, when I just want to share a random laugh with you. Hope things are going great on your end.”
    • “Life just isn’t the same without you here. Can we fast-forward time and hang out already?”
    • “Babe, everything just dry without you here. Abeg, hurry back so we can catch up proper. I dey miss you too much!”
    • “I swear, every time something funny happen, I just dey look around like, ‘Where my padi?’ Miss you die.”
    • “I keep wanting to tell you things I know only you’ll get. Can’t wait for the next time we’re together to offload it all!”
    • “It’s weird, but it’s like there’s this empty space around me that only you fill. I miss you loads and need my friend back soon.”
    • “Just wanted you to know that things aren’t half as fun without you. Can we please make a plan to see each other?”
    • “I saw that jollof you posted and nearly cried. I dey miss our foodie runs and your wahala. Come back quick o!”
    • “Random moments remind me of you, and I get this mix of nostalgia and impatience to see you again. Missing you a lot these days.”
    • “I was looking through our old photos, and I swear, they made me miss you even more. Let’s make some new memories soon, yeah?”

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    • “It’s like a part of me is missing without you around. Can we make plans soon so I can feel whole again?”
    • “Honestly, the world feels a little less bright without you here to laugh and make memories with. Miss you more than words can say.”
    • “Sometimes I’ll think of something and laugh, and then I realise you’re not here to laugh with me. Need my person back soon!”
    • “Omo, life no balance without you here to gist and laugh with. We gats plan something soon o, make I no faint from boredom.”
    • “Distance sucks. Just know you’re missed more than you realise, and I’m counting down the days until we can hang out again.”
    • “I’m not built for this long-distance friendship life. Need my person back soon so I can feel normal again.”
    • “It’s crazy how many stories I’m saving up to tell you. I swear, things don’t make sense without you here to share them with. Come home!!!”
    • “Saw something today that I know you’d have cracked up over. Just reminded me how much I need my friend back here.”
    • “Guyyy, street dry die as you no dey around. Who go follow me do anyhow? Abeg, find time come make we catch up.”

    Enjoyed this piece about messages for your long distance friends? Read this next: The 7 Signs of a Dying Talking Stage

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

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    Nairalife #297 bio

    Let’s start from the beginning. What’s your earliest memory of money?

    I come from an entrepreneurial family — my dad owned a printing press, and my mum was a petty trader — so money conversations were regular. It wasn’t strange to overhear questions about where our next meal could come from. So, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t thinking about making money. One that comes to mind was when I sold biscuits for extra income in secondary school.

    Tell me about that

    I attended a boarding school, and when I got into the senior class, my parents started giving me a ₦10k allowance per term for feeding and other minor expenses. I’m a natural saver, so I managed my allowance to meet my needs. If I ever ran out of money, I’d call home.

    Then, during exams in SS 3, I noticed my classmates were selling biscuits and other snacks. The snacks were popular among students who didn’t want to walk all the way to the canteen at break time and those who got hungry at night when everywhere was closed. 

    I spoke to a friend whose mum also sold snacks at the school canteen, and we made an arrangement: I’d pay for cartons of biscuits and keep them at their house. Then, I’d take a few cartons at a time to the hostel to sell. 

    How did that go?

    It was very profitable. I can’t recall the actual figures because this was in 2016/2017, but I made enough to afford to recruit my friend’s sister and some junior students to sell my biscuits in their classes for a small commission. 

    The business lasted two terms, and I stopped because my hostel warden wasn’t a fan of students doing business. He tried to report me to the principal and housemaster several times, but I always escaped. I think I just decided on my own that I didn’t want to do it anymore.

    My next hustle happened during the waiting period between secondary school graduation and university admission.

    Another business?

    Something like that. I almost started selling natural health products in 2018. A friend introduced me to it, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try since admission hadn’t come — I was pursuing medicine and wasn’t making any money at my dad’s printing press.

    That business didn’t kick off because I couldn’t raise the ₦20k I needed for registration. However, I found digital marketing. My elder brother noticed I had a knack for writing, so he suggested starting an Instagram blog to grow an audience and possibly monetise it in the future. 

    Before then, I only posted my pieces on WhatsApp and Twitter. I started the blog as he suggested and began seeing how the foreign guys did digital marketing. They talked about graphic and brand design, email marketing, social media marketing and management. I read all they had to say, researched, and even took some courses. 

    I involved my brother in my progress, and he helped me get my first social media management job with his friend, who owned a laundry company. This was in 2019.

    Was it a paid job?

    Oh yes. The guy paid me ₦20k/month, and we worked together for six months. His business slowed during the 2020 pandemic because his clients had nowhere to go and didn’t wear as many clothes. So, he had to let me go.

    I also got admission to study medical lab science that period, but the combination of COVID and ASUU strike meant I couldn’t resume until the following year. I took advantage of my free time to hone my skills. I built a brand online as a social media manager and digital marketer, learnt graphic design and became a stronger content writer.

    In September 2020, I got my next gig as an engagement specialist with a digital marketer in the UK. He created most of the content, and my job was basically to engage his social media community and respond to comments and enquiries. The pay was £4/hour, and it was my first big break. I worked at least two hours a day, and my pay at the end of the month was usually ₦250k. 

    Not bad 

    It wasn’t bad at all. I worked with him on and off until January 2023 — sometimes, we worked together for three consecutive months and stopped when he didn’t have money. Then, we’d resume a month or two later. Towards the end of 2022, he introduced me to two of his friends, and I had a two-month stint working with them at the same £4/hour rate. 

    My income comes in very handy for school. I think my dad only paid my first-year school fees. I paid my ₦180k/year accommodation myself and didn’t bother calling home for allowances because I knew their financial situation depended on when my dad got a major printing job. I even started sending money home to help with emergencies or if my mum needed extra money to cook for the weekend.

    But how are you managing school and the multiple gigs?

    A lot of scheduling and sacrificing my free time, but I just have to manage. When I stopped working with the UK guy, I briefly worked with someone who needed help with the content strategy for two brands for a non-profit she wanted to start. 

    We agreed on ₦45k/month for a three-month contract, and I persuaded her to pay me for all three months at once; I had to move to the uni’s medical campus that year and needed money. While working with her, I took on another three-month digital marketing gig that paid $250/month — approximately ₦300k after conversion. 

    By the time the three months elapsed, I had about ₦800k saved from my different gigs. So, I decided to stop taking on gigs to focus on school for a while. The coursework was a lot that semester, and I needed to study. I survived on my savings for the next six months and only took another job in October 2023.

    What job, and how did you get it?

    Social media management. I got it via referral from a friend, and payment was per task completed. For instance, I got $50 to set up an ads account for TikTok and Instagram. The arrangement lasted three months, and I made a total of $200.

    After that, I took another brief break for school before I got my current job on Upwork in July 2024. I work with an editing firm as a book editor. My pay structure was initially an hourly arrangement of $7/hour, which came up to about $1,120 in a month. But I got confirmed after my first month and now earn approximately $1250/month, including bonuses. That’s around ₦2.1m after conversion. 

    That’s wildly impressive. And you’re still in school?

    Yup. I’m currently in 400 level. It’s been very interesting managing school and work. Sometimes, I skip classes. Sometimes, I juggle work and exams. So far, my work hasn’t adversely affected my academic performance.

    Two months ago, I employed someone and delegated some of my work to him. We agreed on $25 per book edited, but he’s not a professional yet, and his work rate was really slow. My workplace gives me a week to edit each book, and it just wasn’t working out with him. We worked together on three books before we had to part ways. 

    I think I’ve pretty much worked out a reliable schedule for work and school. For instance, I know I won’t always have time to cook, so I just accept that I’ll need to order food most of the time.

    You’ve had impressive income growth over the years. How does this impact your perspective on money?

    I consciously try to remember that I didn’t come from a place of abundance, so I don’t go on spending sprees. Even though I have enough to afford almost anything I want now, I don’t see the need to spend on luxuries or things that won’t impact my life. 

    I appreciate that I have more financial freedom, but I feel it’s just an opportunity to save more and provide financial leeway for my family. Without worrying, I can now afford to spend ₦100k on my parents’ medical bills or send ₦150k for food. In addition to the money gifts, my family can also come to me for loans, and I’m happy to help out.

    You mentioned saving. How does that work?

    I live very much below my means and save far more than I spend. I don’t send money to my family every time, so I’m constantly saving. I have about $3,300 in savings now, and I save in dollars to protect my money from inflation and the falling naira. 

    I’m also considering investments, but I’m being careful about that. I once lost over $500 in 2021 trading crypto. I did both futures and spot trading then, but I was new to it and lost that money because I didn’t properly weigh the risks. I plan to return to crypto one day since I have the experience now. About 53% of my savings are actually in a crypto wallet.

    But before that time, I might consider getting a financial advisor or expert to help me select the best investment options to diversify my funds. I have money right now, but I know anything can happen in the future, and I need a healthy safety net that I can fall back on. So, I definitely need to pay attention to how I handle my finances.

    Speaking of, let’s break down how much you typically spend in a month

    Nairalife #297 expenses

    I pay a yearly rent of ₦100k. That’s not a monthly expense, but I feel like I should mention it.

    I’m curious. Have you thought about future plans after school?

    I honestly think crypto trading and social media sales offer the highest earning potential and will continue to pay the highest in the next 10 years. If I can hone my trading skills and continue leveraging what I know about social media ads and marketing strategies, I can earn a lot. My short-term goal is to earn $5k/month by 2025 or 2026. Long term, I hope to earn $10k/month.

    There’s still the question of what I’ll do with my medical lab certificate, but I like that it gives me another option if the others don’t work. I may even consider opening a medical laboratory strictly for business purposes. Whatever the case, I intend to keep saving so I have enough of a safety net for whatever dream I want to pursue.

    How much do you consider a good safety net?

    Maybe $15k, and it’d be fantastic if I could save that by the end of next year. With a safety net like that, I wouldn’t feel too pressured if I didn’t start earning immediately after I left school, and it’d give me room to pursue whatever dream comes to mind.

    What’s one thing you want but can’t afford?

    Nothing.

    You know what? I rate it. How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

    9. I’d like more financial freedom so I can take more risks. I think I’ll get there in time, especially with my current income and attitude to savings.

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

    Yes, I want to do a Naira Life!

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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