When Adanna* (24) met Daniel* (24) at a birthday party, she didn’t think it would lead anywhere, but a brief fling transitioned into a relationship. Everything was going well until Daniel left the country, and they had to open their relationship. In this story, Adanna expresses the anger and confusion she felt when she realised her boyfriend had a problem with her kissing a man but not a woman.
This is Adanna’s story, as told to Sofiyah
In 2024, Daniel and I met at a mutual friend’s birthday party. After awkward introductions, I thought that was the end, but then a conversation about SK8 the Infinitycame up, and we both had a lot to say.
Daniel is the kind of person you can talk to for hours without ever getting tired. I realised this after we exchanged contacts and started speaking more.
We were supposed to be a fling because we didn’t think we had time for a relationship, but our feelings didn’t care about that. Daniel was easy to fall for, and I was thrilled when I found out the feelings were mutual. A week after this realisation, he asked me out on a date, and that was when we made it official.
For a month, everything was wonderful, blissful even. Being with him made me feel giddy, and it felt like the universe knew and hated that for me because, on a random day, his visa application was approved. After he told me, I had a hard time processing it. Yes, I was happy for him because this was something he’d been working towards for a long time, but at the same time, I was mad at the country and its cruel government. The japa wave seems to derive joy from taking my loved ones away from me. I thought him moving to an entirely new continent would be the end of this amazing thing we were building, but one night, we sat down, had a lengthy conversation about the future of our relationship, and agreed to give long distance a try.
At first, the long distance was calm, and for a while, I thought, maybe this would be okay. Unfortunately, I was wrong. We started having these little fights about how I always put my job first before anything or anyone else, and that confused me a lot. Even before he left, he knew how much of a workaholic I am, and I couldn’t comprehend why it suddenly became a problem.
We were still navigating that without everything crumbling down when the topic of sex came up. He made a comment expressing his frustration at the lack of sex, and I replied, “You know you can sleep with anyone you want, right?” From there, we talked and decided that it would be best to open the relationship, but before doing that, we had to set a major ground rule.
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We agreed it would be safest to use condoms and avoid having sex with anyone who hadn’t been tested. He also wanted to include a ‘no sleeping with friends’ rule, but I reminded him that I need to be friendly with someone before having sex with them, so we adjusted that. I was completely okay with the entire thing because sex isn’t a big deal to me. I’m demisexual, and people in Lagos have never been interesting enough for me to consider dedicating time to forming connections before sleeping with them.
Once the relationship was opened, things went back to normal for a while, but then I went to a party with my friends and everything fell apart. While at the party, I was updating him about what was happening. I told him that the shots were useless, and I’d get a joint from a friend instead. After getting the joint, I got a little high, and I ended up making out with said friend in their car. It wasn’t surprising to me because there’d always been an attraction between us, so it was only a matter of time.
After the makeout session, I told Daniel about it, and because my friend has a unisex Yoruba name, he assumed it was one of my X mutuals who’s a girl. When he replied, “That’s good for you and her. I love it”, I corrected him. “Her? No, it was a guy.” His next response confused me. He said something along the lines of, “I’m not comfortable with you being intimate with someone while intoxicated when that person is the cause of your intoxication.”
I wasn’t only boggled by his words, but I was also angry. I’ve been smoking for years, and he, more than anyone, knows I can handle my alcohol and weed. I trust my instincts and judgment, and I know that I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do, no matter how intoxicated I was. When I said all of this, he proceeded to invalidate me by speaking to me like I was his younger sister, and I slowly realised he wasn’t interested in understanding me. He was just fixated on the fact that I kissed a guy, and wanted to make it a whole issue.
The entire conversation convinced me that he either had a fetishisation of some sort or he never saw women as his competition because he didn’t raise any concern about intoxication when he thought the person I was with was a woman. The sudden change of tone when he realised that it was a man completely weirded me out, and that was when I knew it was best to end the relationship. If he thought I was only going to be kissing women, despite knowing that I don’t have a preference, he shouldn’t have agreed to opening the relationship.
When we opened the relationship, I never made a fuss about whoever he wanted to sleep with because, to me, sex is sex, regardless of gender. Anyone who has a problem with that isn’t for me, and will never be for me.
On the Streets is a Zikoko weekly series about the chaos of modern dating: from situationships and endless talking stages, to heartbreak and everything it means to be single in today’s world.
After years of battling insecurities, fertility struggles, and the pressure to prove she was “wife material,” Ada* (30) thought she’d finally found stability with a patient, God-fearing man who seemed ready to build a future with her. But after nearly seven years, he turned out to be nothing more than a thief of time, leaving her heart shattered in the worst possible way.
What’s your relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I just found out my fiancé of six years got married to someone else. I’m still trying to process it, but I guess I’m single now. It hurts, but it’s for the best. The whole situation opened my eyes to the emotional abuse I’d endured in my relationships.
I’m sorry. But how did things get to this point?
It started with my self-esteem issues and need for acceptance.
Growing up, I battled health problems that made me self-conscious and convinced me I wasn’t attractive. That insecurity followed me into adulthood and shaped how I interacted with romantic relationships.
My first serious one was in 2010 when I met John through his younger sister. I was 15, almost done with secondary school and excited to date an older guy. I didn’t know what a healthy relationship looked like, so I jumped in.
How did it go with John?
I thought we were fine until I realised how much I tolerated. John had a habit of ghosting me for days whenever we disagreed. It made me scared to upset him, so I always gave in.
He was very close to his family. During semester breaks, I travelled to his village instead of going home. His family was traditional — they sold fufu, cooked with firewood, and swept with palm fronds. I wasn’t used to that lifestyle, but I forced myself to adjust to prove I was wife material. His sister once insulted me for making fufu wrongly and said my mother hadn’t trained me well. When John took her side, I started rethinking everything.
He also mocked my snoring, saying I disturbed the whole compound at night. The final straw came when he started pressuring me for sex even though we’d agreed to wait until marriage. When I refused, he called off the relationship. By then, I was too tired to fight for it. That was in 2017.
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Must’ve been hard.
It was. But I was already falling for someone else, so it was easy to walk away. Solomon*, a guy from church I’d admired for years, had started giving me attention.
Tell me about Solomon.
I’d known Solomon since 2009 through the Nigerian Catholic Youth Organisation, where he served as president. I was an exco, so we met during quarterly meetings. I admired him because he was very charismatic and a good orator. I never thought I had a chance since a lot of girls liked him.
In 2017, we exchanged numbers during a retreat. A year later, I wished him a happy birthday, and that was how we hit it off. By 2019, when I came to Lagos for holidays, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Sweet. How did that relationship go?
At first, it felt perfect. Unlike John, he was intentional. He met my mum and siblings, checked up on them, and respected my boundaries about waiting until marriage — until my birthday in April 2020.
We’d planned the day together, but he ignored me all day. When he resurfaced, he apologised and said he wanted to make it up to me “specially” by making love to me.
Hmm.
Unfortunately, nothing about that moment, which I’d initially been saving for my wedding night felt special. Sex with him was painful and unfulfilling. In hindsight, that was the beginning of the end.
After COVID restrictions eased, I returned to the East. We went from talking every day to irregular communication. He blamed it on his job as the Archbishop’s secretary.
Even when I visited Lagos, he often cancelled our plans because of work. Still, I stayed.
By 2021, rumours started spreading that he was sleeping with other girls in my parish. One even showed me their chats.
Wait, what?
I confronted him about the rumours. He claimed it all happened before we started dating. I believed him and let it go because I’d idolised him. He knew all my insecurities and health struggles and made me feel safe.
That same year, my PCOS worsened, and doctors had to remove one ovary. They advised me to have kids soon. I couldn’t tell my family because we were still mourning my dad, but Solomon stood by me. He sent supportive messages and promised we’d marry by 2023.
That must’ve felt reassuring.
It did. He even said he didn’t mind my snoring, something I’d always been embarrassed about. But despite how comfortable he made me feel, he never took me out or acknowledged me publicly. He claimed he was protecting me because of his position. ghost me for weeks, then return with apologies. And I kept accepting him.
By 2024, I reminded him of his marriage promise. He met my family and even collected our wedding list but later said he wasn’t financially ready. He wanted to postpone the wedding till 2025. When I expressed worries based on my fertility issues, he insisted we could adopt if I couldn’t have kids.
That was when he dropped a bombshell: he wasn’t pressed about the issue since he had a 7-year-old child living with his parents all along.
Wow.
He said he’d kept it a secret to avoid scrutiny from the church. I was shocked and hurt that he’d hidden it for five years, but I forgave him. I just wanted to move forward.
By then, I’d finished my master’s and gotten a job in Ogun, so we only saw each other occasionally. Still, I believed our 2025 wedding was in sight.
But after his visit in September 2024, he ghosted again. This time, it was worse. He ignored my calls and messages for almost three months. When I finally reached him in December, he said he’d been depressed. He revealed that he’d slept with his ex and she claimed to be pregnant.
Oh my goodness.
I was shattered. He begged for patience while they confirmed the DNA and asked for space to “fix things.” We’d been together for six years, and I felt too invested to leave, so I agreed.
By February, he disappeared again. I came to Lagos hoping to see him, but couldn’t find him. He’d been transferred to a different deanery and moved to the Island. His sister acted cold and claimed she didn’t know me. Sometimes, he’d randomly pick up my calls, say he loved me, and hang up. Those months were a cycle of worry, anger, and confusion.
Then, two weeks ago, he reached out. He said he wanted to see me, and I told him I’d be in Lagos the next day. I was excited — it had been almost a year since we last saw each other.
When we finally met, he explained that his dad had been sick and shuttling between Lagos and the East made communication hard. He claimed he’d resolved things with his ex and only needed space to “ decongest” the negativity. I was annoyed but relieved we’d moved past it. He promised to visit again that Friday.
And did he visit?
No. Two days before the supposed visit, my younger sister called to ask if I was still dating Solomon because she’d seen his wedding photos on Facebook. I thought she was joking until I checked and realised he’d deleted his profile. She sent screenshots, and that was how I confirmed it was true.
I did some digging and found his wife’s page. He’d once stopped me from piercing my ears or fixing lashes and nails, yet his new wife had all of that. She’s pregnant too; most likely the ex he mentioned a while back. He proposed in February and married her on my birthday. I was furious and sent him the screenshots, but he never replied or picked up my calls.
When Friday came and he neither showed up nor reached out, it hit me that the relationship was over. It’s been a week since I found out he got married to someone else on my 30th birthday. I still don’t know how to piece my life back together after he wasted almost seven years of it. I’m too ashamed to open up to the few people who even knew about us.
I’m sorry you had to go through that. How have these experiences shaped your idea of love and relationships?
I’ve realised how much I settled because my self-esteem was so low that I thought no one else would ever love me. I saw more than enough signs, but ignored them until it was too late. Honestly, my grief is still very fresh, and I’m taking time to process everything and learn from it.
So, how would you say the streets are treating you? Rate it on a scale of 1-10
I’ll give it the barest minimum: 1/10. My new single life feels like a gut punch. I never imagined I’d be back here, and it’s still hard to accept my reality.
Romance might be a staple of Nollywood storylines, but sometimes the love continues long after the cameras stop rolling. From sparks that flew on set to relationships nurtured through mutual friends and shared creative spaces, several Nollywood stars have found real-life partners within the industry.
These unions show that Nollywood isn’t just about blockbuster scripts and iconic performances—it’s also about the genuine connections formed behind the scenes.
Here are the 10 greatest Nollywood actors who are actual real-life couples.
Razak Olayiwola, widely known by his stage name Ojopagogo, and Moji Afolayan are one of the most respected veteran couples in Yoruba Nollywood. Their love story began on a movie set in Ibadan, where they first met while working on a film project. After courting for two years, they tied the knot in 2003, beginning a marriage that has endured alongside their flourishing careers.
Both accomplished in their own right, Razak is admired for his comic timing and versatility, while Moji—daughter of the legendary Ade Love and sister to Kunle Afolayan—carries on her family’s rich filmmaking legacy. Together, they’ve appeared in several Yoruba films, including Tojubole, where their real-life connection translates effortlessly on screen.
Nearly two decades later, they remain a beloved Nollywood couple, celebrated for balancing family, tradition, and artistry in the industry.
Mide Martins and Afeez Abiodun, popularly known as Afeez Owo, are one of the most enduring couples in the Yoruba movie industry. Their love story is deeply rooted in Nollywood history—Afeez was once the manager of Mide’s mother, the late veteran actress Funmi Martins. Having grown up together, their friendship gradually blossomed into a romance that led to marriage.
The couple has been married for over two decades, building both a family and successful careers side by side. On screen, they have appeared together in films such as Oju Inu and Eye Aparo, where their real-life bond adds an extra layer of authenticity to their performances.
Today, Mide and Afeez are celebrated not only for their individual contributions to Yoruba cinema but also for their resilience as a couple who have stood the test of time in both love and career.
Stan Nze and Blessing Nze are one of Nollywood’s newer celebrity couples, tying the knot in 2021. Their relationship sparked plenty of conversation, particularly because of their age difference (Stan is 36 and Blessing is 43), but the pair have remained unbothered by social expectations, choosing instead to focus on building a happy marriage and thriving careers.
Since getting married, they’ve delighted fans by appearing together in films such as Irresistible You and Husband Man, where their natural chemistry shines through. Both accomplished in their own right—Stan with critically acclaimed performances in projects like Rattlesnake: The Ahanna Story (2020), and Blessing with her multifaceted work as an actress and producer—the couple continue to prove that love and partnership can flourish in the spotlight.
Toyin Abraham and Kola Ajeyemi are one of Nollywood’s most popular power couples, especially within the Yoruba film industry.
Toyin is an award-winning actress, director, and producer celebrated for her range in both comedy and drama, with standout performances in Elevator Baby (2019), The Prophetess (2021), and her Alakada franchise. Kolawole, an accomplished actor in his own right, has starred in films such as Iyalode, Alakada: Bad and Boujee (2023), and Ijakumo: The Born Again Stripper (2022). They have also starred in movies together, with Kola playing Cash in Alakada: Bad and Boujee.
The two went public with their relationship in 2019, often sharing glimpses of their family life and creative journeys on social media.
Iyke and Florence Okechukwu are yet another Nollywood couple whose love story blossomed on the set of Tinsel. Playing the fan-favourite couple Chuks and Ene, their on-screen romance won the hearts of viewers across Nigeria. What many didn’t know at first was that the chemistry went beyond acting—it was the beginning of a real-life love story.
In 2013, the pair tied the knot, turning their scripted romance into a lifelong commitment. Today, they share a family together while continuing to build their individual careers in Nollywood. Their relationship remains one of the most heartwarming examples of how on-screen love can beautifully spill into real life.
Norbert and Gloria Young stand among Nollywood’s most respected veteran couples, with a marriage that has thrived for more than two decades. Norbert has built a reputation as a versatile actor, memorable for his roles in beloved series like Family Circle and Tinsel, as well as powerful performances in films such as King of Boys (2018) and The Black Book (2023).
Gloria, who began her career as a journalist, made her breakthrough in the Nollywood classic Glamour Girls (1994). She has since continued to shine in acclaimed films like Half of a Yellow Sun (2013) and The Weekend.
They have both appeared in movies such as Choke. Beyond their filmography, the Youngs are celebrated not only for their individual accomplishments but also for their longevity as a couple—embodying stability, grace, and resilience both on and off the screen.
Ibrahim Suleiman and Linda Ejiofor’s romance is one of Nollywood’s sweetest “from set to real life” love stories. The two first met as co-stars on the long-running M-Net series Tinsel, where they played love interests. What began as a professional collaboration soon grew into a close friendship, and eventually, a real relationship that fans couldn’t help but root for.
Their bond culminated in a beautiful wedding in 2018, celebrated widely across the Nollywood community. Since then, they’ve continued to shine both individually and together, with Ibrahim building his career as an actor and creative, and Linda balancing motherhood with her acclaimed screen performances.
Their journey from Tinsel co-stars to real-life partners remains a fan-favourite Nollywood love story.
Lateef Adedimeji and Adebimpe Adedimeji are one of the most beloved couples in the Yoruba movie industry. Known for their effortless on-screen chemistry, the pair starred together in films like Deja Vu and That One Time, where their performances sparked rumours of a romance long before they confirmed it.
For a while, they kept fans guessing, denying dating speculations despite appearing in multiple productions side by side. But in December 2021, they surprised the industry with a stunning wedding that quickly became a trending celebration across Nigeria.
Today, Lateef and Mo Bimpe continue to dominate Nollywood as individuals and as a couple, balancing thriving acting careers with a marriage that has made them one of the industry’s favourite love stories.
Few Nollywood love stories have captured the public’s imagination quite like Banky W and Adesua Etomi-Wellington’s. Their romance began to swell among fans after their appearance in The Wedding Party (2016), where they played a couple navigating the chaos of a glamorous Lagos wedding. The chemistry was so natural that fans speculated long before the pair confirmed that life was imitating art.
Off-screen, their relationship quickly blossomed. They announced their engagement in 2017, and their lavish, multi-day wedding—spanning traditional and white ceremonies—was one of the most talked-about celebrity events of the year.
Since then, the “IT” couple has remained a fixture in Nollywood and beyond. Adesua continues to shine as one of the industry’s most versatile actresses, while Banky W balances music, acting, and politics. Together, they’ve also appeared in The Wedding Party 2 (2017), cementing their on-screen and real-life partnership as one of Nollywood’s most iconic.
Olu Jacobs and Joke Silva are by far one of Nollywood’s ultimate power couples. Their love story began in 1981 at the National Theatre in Lagos during Nigeria’s 21st Independence anniversary, and it has grown into one of the industry’s most enduring partnerships. Both actors have carved out remarkable careers spanning stage, television, and film, earning them legendary status at home and abroad.
Beyond their personal relationship, they have also built a creative empire together. They co-founded the Lufodo Group, which houses the Lufodo Academy of Performing Arts, a training ground for young actors and filmmakers.
On-screen, the couple has shared their chemistry in films like The Royal Hibiscus Hotel (2017). Their joint appearances remind fans why they are not only celebrated individually but also cherished as a duo whose artistry and love have shaped Nollywood across generations.
The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.
Ugo*(25) was the kind of person who’d move mountains for the people she loved, but meeting Tobi, her ex-boyfriend, changed her in the worst way possible. In this story, she shares how helping Tobi relocate to the U.K. turned out to be the most toxic and damning mistake of her life.
Where do you live now, and when did you move out of Nigeria?
I live in the United Kingdom (UK) and moved here in 2017. It’s been almost eight years. I didn’t intend to leave Nigeria initially, but my mother has always been a dreamer and never saw the country as her final stop.
After she and my dad separated around 2013, she got serious about her plans. She had tried things like the American visa lottery a few times, but those didn’t work out. Eventually, she was introduced to the student route and left for her first master’s abroad, leaving me and my sister behind.
She kept saying we’d join her, but when the first and second year passed, I stopped taking her seriously. Then in 2016, I got into university and had just started my first year when she suddenly started applying for me to study in the UK. That’s how my sister and I eventually joined her in 2017 as her dependents.
How was it reconnecting with your mum and adjusting to life in the UK?
It was a surreal experience. One minute, I was making new friends in Nigeria, and the next, I was on a plane to the UK.
Also, I didn’t grow up with my mum. Her elder sister raised me, so living with my mum was a big adjustment. My younger sister had lived with her a bit longer, but I hadn’t. My mum is very career-focused, so even during holidays, I only got to spend a short time with her. So, moving in together as a teenager was new territory.
I was 17, living with a mother I barely knew in a new country. Naturally, we clashed a lot. We were learning each other’s personalities, which wasn’t smooth. I wasn’t that bad, but the tension was real.
One major factor leading to constant disagreements between us was my education. My mum applied for Software Engineering on my behalf even though she knew I wasn’t passionate about coding. That course was heavy, and the university wasn’t diverse—I was one of three black students. I felt out of place.
Eventually, I told her I couldn’t continue. She initially didn’t take it well and brought people to talk sense into me. After my first year, I stood my ground and changed my course.
It caused constant disagreement between us. It was so bad that she slapped me once while we were on a bus. But we’ve come a long way since then. Now, we’re like sisters. The struggles brought us closer.
She was doing her PhD while paying my school fees and hers. It was a lot, and I had to give her grace. At 18, I started working and helping with bills. We picked our lives up a few years later, and life in the UK started looking great until I made a mistake that would haunt me for years.
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What happened?
I helped a man move to the UK. His name was Tobi, and I met him during my first year at the university before I moved to the UK. We were coursemates, and we grew close. After I moved, we kept in touch. He was one of the few friends I didn’t lose touch with.
In 2020, Tobi decided to move to the UK. I helped him with the process because we were close. However, the first time he applied, he made a rookie mistake of using a microfinance bank for his proof of funds, and the visa was denied.
He tried again in 2021/2022, and I helped him with everything from school admission to visa processing. We grew even closer and started spending longer hours talking on the phone. Tobi suddenly started calling me “babe.” Then, one day, he said, “I love you.”
I didn’t take him seriously at first because we were friends and hadn’t known each other on that level. He eventually moved to the UK and asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes. That’s when everything started falling apart.
How so?
At first, I struggled to respect the relationship. I still saw Tobi as a friend and didn’t treat him the way one would treat a partner. I spoke to him like a sibling and didn’t filter my words. He was older than me, so it didn’t sit well with him. It naturally led to arguments between us.
Another big issue was his smoking. He never smoked around his parents, so I couldn’t understand why he’d smoke around me, even after I had made it clear that I didn’t like it. I consistently talked about the smoking thing, and eventually, he started pulling away.
We had a big fight one day, and when I called to apologise, I couldn’t reach him all day. I hate malice, so I texted him saying, “If you don’t reach out by this time, we’re done.” He didn’t, so I ended the relationship.
My friends told me I overreacted, but I stood by my decision. We broke up for about two weeks. Eventually, I reached out to Tobi, apologised, and we got back together. But things didn’t really go back to normal. I think I’d done too much damage.
What damage did you do?
I hooked up with someone else three times during the two weeks we broke up. I didn’t think much of it then because we were over. I was sad, the guy was there, and it happened. I didn’t even feel bad at the time because we weren’t together.
After we got back together, I archived the chat with the other guy. But Tobi searched my phone, found the archived chat, and got suspicious. The messages weren’t even flirty, just basic stuff like “Are you upstairs?” because we worked together. Still, he figured everything out.
That night, he confronted me. I denied it at first, but he later called me and said, “Tell me the truth. I saw the chat.” So I admitted that I hooked up with the other guy during that breakup. He didn’t take it well at all.
He started asking for unnecessary details like, “How many times? What position?” I didn’t answer because I didn’t know how those answers would have helped him heal. But he wanted to know everything, and when I explained that we weren’t together then, he got even angrier. He started seeing me as “loose,” which hurt because anyone who knows me knows that’s not who I am. But I was vulnerable and hurting, and the guy was there.
Did you still want to work things out with him after that?
Yes. I apologised and told him I still wanted us to make it work. I admitted I was wrong, but I didn’t cheat. We were broken up. I was the one who even reached out to reconcile, so clearly, I was serious. He forgave me, but just shortly after, we found ourselves in another mess.
Before all this, we had planned to pay his school fees for the second year. He needed to pay about £13,000. I got him a job in my town where he’d be paid £500 monthly. I even gave him the first £5,000 from my savings. Then I sourced an additional £5,000 through work connections. Out of that full £13k, I helped him raise £10k, which he was supposed to pay me back at some point. At that point, I was still dealing with the guilt of hurting him and just wanted to make our relationship work. I thought helping him would also soften the blow of everything that had happened. I was wrong.
It didn’t?
Not even close. After helping him raise his school fees, things got worse. He’d throw jabs, bring up the past out of nowhere and shame me for something I’d already apologised for. One minute we’re talking normally, the next he’s saying things like, “What kind of girl are you? You go to church and do these things?” And it would always go back to me hooking up with someone else.
I never denied it happened. I explained that during our break, I was heartbroken, and the person was there. But he never let it go. I still tried. I didn’t want to be the person who walked away again, so I fought for us. But it started feeling like I was fighting alone. He called me a gaslighter. He made me feel like I was the worst person alive.
I’m sorry about that
I never judged Tobi for being who he was. In fact, I wanted to be more open-minded, so we could grow stronger. Remember his smoking habit? I tried meeting him halfway. I baked edibles for our first anniversary getaway. We went to an amusement park in London. I only ate one, but I don’t smoke or take weed, so that one edible completely messed me up.
I was dazed, couldn’t see properly. On one of the rides, the edibles kicked in. Everything spiralled and I ended up throwing up in a restaurant. I could barely function. Instead of helping me, he got irritated. On the train home, I had a scarf and a long skirt on, but he claimed I was “intentionally” opening my legs to show people my thighs.
I was not even aware of what was going on. But rather than helping me or covering me, he sat far away and used it later to shame me. That moment, I mentally checked out of the relationship.
Later that evening, he wanted to get intimate, but the bed was squeaky, and I wasn’t in the right headspace. After I said no, he went to masturbate in the bathroom, knowing fully well that I could hear him. That was the last straw. I just cried the whole way home. I didn’t recognise the person he’d become. He wasn’t the friend I once had.
That’s horrible. I’m so sorry
That’s not the worst of it. Tobi betrayed me again in the worst way. Before we officially broke up, I got into a fight with my sister. It got physical. I was vulnerable and told him about it, thinking he’d comfort me.
He called my sister behind my back to “fact-check” my side of the story. I don’t know what led to that, but he also told her everything about our relationship—things I had only ever confided in him. He painted me as a manipulative, toxic person and convinced my own sister that I was the villain.
For a whole month, my sister didn’t speak to me. Meanwhile, he called her every day, feeding her all the worst bits of our relationship. The betrayal of that broke me. From that point on, I stopped telling my family anything about my personal life.
He also spoke to our mutual friends in parables, using them to shame me and stir drama indirectly. All of this was happening before the official breakup. He had already started painting me as “the crazy ex” even though we weren’t broken up yet.
At some point, I just couldn’t understand what was happening anymore. He kept saying, “People think you’re so perfect.” Eventually, we called it quits.
Did you make up with your sister?
I made peace with her, and that’s when she finally opened up and told me everything. She said she had to block him at some point because he was calling her every day. At first, she said she entertained it a bit because we had just fought, but it quickly became clear that his calls were not about reconciliation. He just wanted to cause a rift between my sister and me.
I didn’t know at the time, but he was sending my friends messages on Snapchat too. Almost as if to turn everyone I loved against me. All this while, he was still owing me money.
Oh…
He paid some part of his debt, but he still owed me £5,000. When I asked for it, he said he had lost both of his jobs. I was confused. He had two good jobs. Everything started falling apart for him after the breakup. He said he owed people money and couldn’t keep up with anything.
It’s been over two years, and he still doesn’t have a job. I’ve had to go through his father to try to get my money back. In February, I had a whole conversation with the man begging to tell his son to pay me what he owes.
At one point, I wanted to file a County Court Judgement (CCJ) against him, but I couldn’t because he refused to give me his new address. If you file a CCJ in the UK, your credit will be ruined. You can’t open a bank account, get loans, or do anything financially significant for years. But he knew that, so he didn’t give me his address.
At this point, I’ve left it to God. If I get it back, fine. If I don’t, it is what it is. The funniest part is that this guy still tried to come back into my life.
No way
Yes, he tried to come back. He reached out, saying he wanted to talk to clear his mind. I said, “Your mind can never be clear.” Whatever is disturbing you now, it’s your karma. I won’t take credit because life probably just handed him what he deserves.
Let’s talk more about you. How have you been since all these happened?
My life is great. I have a great job. I’m saving for my own house and can afford anything I want. Yes, my £5,000 is still outside. But I make enough to never care about it again.
I’ve learned my lessons. I won’t be quick to involve family in my relationships anymore because that experience taught me that some people will use your vulnerability against you. And even though she’s my sister and I love her, I now know there are boundaries I have to keep for my peace.
On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you in the UK?
A solid eight.
Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. For new episodes of Abroad Life, check in every Friday at 12 PM (WAT).
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For Zainab* (27), rushing into a new relationship after her first love fell apart felt like a bold, grown-up move. But what was meant to be her happily-ever-after quickly spiralled into a nightmare. In this story, she shares how a rebound marriage led her into the most painful chapter of her life, and how she found her way out.
This is Zainab’s Story, as told to Mofiyinfoluwa
No one tells you how moving on from an ex the wrong way ends up hurting you more than the person you’re trying to get over. I married the wrong man to prove a point, and it nearly cost me everything.
I met my ex-boyfriend, Hamza, in secondary school. We lived in the same area but didn’t talk until we became classmates. He became my childhood crush and, eventually, my closest friend. We didn’t start dating until I got into university in 2019. Distance was our biggest hurdle from the start — I was schooling in the north, and he was in the west. It strained our connection. We argued often, broke up and got back together repeatedly. It was an unhealthy cycle.
Even though we’d break up, his mum always sided with me. She genuinely liked me and would call me to fix things with her son. In 2021, after yet another breakup, I ran into his mum at an event. She urged me to call him. I did, and he said he needed space. Three months later, when my grandmother passed away, I called Hamza first. He travelled down and stood by me at the funeral. Still, I could tell from how he looked at me that whatever we shared was truly over. We never spoke again after the funeral. I didn’t reach out either, because I had met someone else.
Mubarak* looked like everything I thought I wanted. I won’t lie — I was drawn mainly by his appearance. He was a light-skinned, smooth talker who was very intentional about marriage. I thought I had stepped up from Hamza. Looking back, that was the beginning of my mistake. Mubarak wasn’t intelligent or even emotionally available. But he was ready to settle down, and I also wanted that. We dated for a year and got married in 2022. I had just turned 24, and he was 29. Unlike our courtship, marriage was hell from the beginning.
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We moved closer to where Mubarak’s family lived, and that’s when it became clear that his mother didn’t like me. I’d always suspected she didn’t like me — she had refused to speak to me on the phone when we started dating, and once fought with her son just because he travelled to visit me. But each time, Mubarak downplayed it, insisting she’d come around. Living nearby removed all the blinders. I saw how she ran the family with an iron grip, and because she didn’t approve of me, the entire family kept their distance. He was a textbook mama’s boy. If we agreed on something and she disagreed, we had to change it. She said we were too young to be left alone, so we lived close by, where she could monitor us. Since Mubarak wasn’t financially stable, his mother used her support as leverage. I became the wife who collected beans and groundnut oil from her in-laws to cook. I wasn’t raised that way, but I told myself I was enduring temporary suffering for a brighter future. I didn’t know I was slowly losing myself.
Emotionally, he tore me apart. He constantly reminded me that it was against religion for me to be more successful than him. I studied Pharmacy, but he wanted me to teach at a primary school. When I started learning fashion design, he refused to give me money and found ways to delay my classes. He also compared me to his exes and told me in detail how much better they were sexually, even though I was a virgin when we married. Every time I complained to his family, they reminded me I was lucky to have married such a “fine boy.” That was their only selling point.
We fought almost every day. We could argue because I hadn’t greeted his parents in two days. I couldn’t say I was tired. I had to constantly perform as the “good wife,” even when I was exhausted. Through it all, Mubarak still found time to cheat. I knew I had to leave when he became open about a woman abroad and dropped hints of a second wife. I filed for divorce in early 2024. Our marriage barely lasted two years.
The divorce was messy. Mubarak told everyone I cheated, disrespected him and was impossible to live with. His parents didn’t even try to help. My parents begged them to intercede, but they refused. He married another wife before our divorce was final. I later realised she was his ticket out of Nigeria.
The whole experience shattered me. I cried every day and hated myself. But through it all, my family never left my side. They supported me financially and emotionally. I eventually relocated to Lagos to start again.
Months after I relocated, I ran into Hamza again at the mosque, of all places. We laughed about old times, and he offered his condolences about my failed marriage. He had somehow heard everything because our families maintained close ties.. He joked about getting back together since we were both single, but I brushed it off. After all, this was the same guy who ghosted me.
But he didn’t stop at jokes. His mother began to call me again, and so did his siblings. His family begged me to give him another chance, and I realised what I didn’t have in my first marriage: a family that actually wanted me there. His mother reminded me of how she always believed I was meant to be her daughter-in-law. Eventually, I caved in.
We started dating only after I told my parents, and they gave their blessings. Hamza and I got married two months ago.
This time, marriage feels safe. We speak the same love language. He understands me without over-explaining. We resolve our issues respectfully. I know people might say, “Two months is too short to know if a marriage will work.” But the truth is, a month into my previous one, I knew it was doomed. The signs were even there at the wedding, but because I was so desperate to move on from my last relationship, I jumped in.
Sometimes, I miss what could’ve been with my ex-husband. He had a gentle side, but let his mother’s opinions control our marriage. Still, I don’t regret leaving that marriage. It taught me that love isn’t enough. Support and respect matter too. This time, I’ve chosen someone who chooses me back, wholly and without question. And that has made all the difference.
If you want to share your own story, I’d love to hear it here.
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Many people would do everything but tell you they don’t want you in their space. Whether it’s a romantic partner, a friend, or even your own family, there comes a point when you realise you’re barely being tolerated.
In this story, five Nigerians share the moments they realised they weren’t wanted in a space. Some saw it coming, but others found out in the most embarrassing ways possible.
“He mistakenly sent me the message where he gossiped about me” — Christina*, 27
Nothing humbles you like realising you’ve become an inside joke. For Christina*, an accident exposed the truth.
“When my then-boyfriend, Tade* and I got serious, I started spending weekends at his place. His house was closer to my job than mine on the mainland, and I thought it made sense to attend his church together. I’m not even of the same denomination, but it felt like something couples do.
One Sunday, after service, one of his friends asked if I’d like to join the youth group. I’d barely opened my mouth when Tade said, ‘She’s not really a member. She just likes following me around.’
The way he said it made me uneasy, but I let it go. Later that week, the same friend sent me a flyer for a church picnic. I forwarded it to Tade with excitement, and a few minutes later, I got the same flyer back from him with a deleted message. Thank God for GB WhatsApp. The message read ‘I’m so tired. This babe can’t take a hint.’
I know he meant to send it someone else and mistakenly forwarded it to me. When I called to ask, he fumbled through some lame explanation. That moment opened my eyes to all the disrespect I’d been brushing aside. I didn’t even argue. I just slowly stopped showing up — first from church, then from the entire relationship.”
“She told my in-law I was bringing the boys I sleep with into her house” — Muheebah*, 43
For Muheebah*, what started as a generous favour quickly became a real-life Cinderella story. It didn’t take long to realise that nothing she did would ever be enough.
“I’d just gotten married when I landed a government job in Abuja. I couldn’t afford my own place immediately. That’s when my in-laws introduced me to Mrs. Shewa*, a family friend with a new ministerial appointment. She lived alone in a massive duplex and offered to let me stay there until I could afford my own space.
At first, I felt relieved. But after the first few weeks, her behaviour changed. The warmth disappeared. She started ignoring me and acting irritated whenever I greeted her. Then she rolled out rules: no music, no guests, and no staying out late. I followed everything since I didn’t want any issues.
She had a chef and a cleaner, but both of them left because of how difficult she was. She refused to replace them, so I ended up cleaning and running errands. Despite that, I still walked on eggshells around her.
The final straw was so ridiculous. My younger brother, who was in the university, got stranded after a field trip. He called me, and I told him to come over for the night. When I got home, I explained everything to Mrs. Shewa, introduced them, and told her he’d leave the next day. She nodded and smiled.
The next morning, I went to greet her and overheard her on a call with my sister-in-law. She told her I’d started bringing the young boys I sleep with into her house. She was talking about my blood brother. I froze.
I didn’t confront her. I just knew I had overstayed my welcome. Not long after, I begged a friend at the office to let me squat and moved out.”
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“She lied that her generator was spoiled” — Raji*, 29
When a power fault chased Raji* out of his apartment, he thought he could count on his girlfriend. The many signs gave him a harsh reality check.
“I had dated this woman for a few months when the first real sign came, though I didn’t want to admit it then.
Until that point, she always visited me at my place. But one weekend, an electrical fault knocked out the light in my apartment for days. I didn’t want to sleep in the heat, so I called her and asked if I could stay over. She agreed, but her tone sounded far from excited. I assumed it was because I told her last minute.
When I got there, the vibe felt off. She wasn’t hostile, but she wasn’t warm either. She told me her generator wasn’t working. Lagos heat is no joke, and her apartment had no proper windows, so it was almost unbearable. I offered to take a look at the generator, but she told me not to worry. The next day was the same story. She kept asking when the electrician would fix my place and casually dropped hints like, ‘Hopefully it doesn’t take long o.’
By the third night, I knew something was off. She stepped out for an errand, and I used that opportunity to check the generator myself. To my shock, it worked perfectly. She had just refused to put it on.
I should’ve left at that point, but I was in denial. I was literally paying for our food, and could buy the fuel too. Why would she want me gone so badly?
Later that day, she mentioned her friends were coming over and asked if I’d still be around. I told her I’d love to meet them, and her face changed. She awkwardly said maybe she’d tell them not to come. I realised she didn’t want them to meet me. She’d met all my friends, but I hadn’t met any of hers. I started wondering if it was because I was short or not attractive enough. My mind was all over the place.
That night, I did something I’m not proud of. I went through her phone. That’s when everything clicked. She had been cheating. The other guy was on his way from Port Harcourt to visit her, and they had been making plans for weeks. I wasn’t even the main guy in her life.
She tried to gaslight me for going through her phone when I confronted her. But I had seen enough to know she didn’t want me around.”
“They told me that still living at home at my age was a shame” — Sharon, 33
Living with Nigerian parents past a certain age feels like a ticking time bomb. In Sharon’s* case, the only way out was the actual door.
“I never imagined a day would come when I’d feel like a stranger in my own parents’ house. But after I turned 30, the atmosphere changed.
Suddenly, every little thing became a problem. My mum started complaining that I lazed around, despite knowing I work remotely. She’d nag about chores and constantly compare me to my mates who were married with kids. Sometimes, it wasn’t even subtle. She’d say things like, ‘At your age, if you had a husband, you wouldn’t be living under our roof.’
My dad didn’t help either. He said I wasn’t contributing enough financially and needed to do better. Every complaint circled back to the same thing — my supposed failure to find a husband.
They don’t know I’m a lesbian. And with how they talk about queer people, I know they’ll never accept any version of my truth.. I thought I could manage a little longer while I saved up to move out quietly.
But the final straw came on a Sunday when my mum’s church friends visited. After the usual pleasantries, they pulled me aside and said I was embarrassing my parents. They called it ‘a shame’ that I still lived with my parents.. They accused me of being too picky, and one of them even offered to introduce me to a man in their prayer group.
That was it. I knew I couldn’t pretend the home I’d known all my life was safe or loving. I borrowed money for rent and packed my things the following week. It was very tough on me, but it was for the best.”
“He told me his family was coming over, but I knew I’d already been phased out” — Dele*, 25
Getting iced out of group plans tells anyone their time’s up. Dele* didn’t wait to be told twice.
“After NYSC, I moved to a new city to job hunt. I reached out to a long-time friend with spare accommodation, and he was kind enough to let me stay with him for a while. Honestly, things started off great. We’d cook together, hang out, and gist late into the night. It felt like a comfortable extension of our university days. But after a few months, another friend of his came to visit, and everything changed.
It started subtly. They’d only talk when I wasn’t around, and whenever I asked where they were going, they gave vague answers. I’d be home alone while they went to the cinema or parties, and when they returned, they’d laugh and talk about it.
At first, I thought I was overthinking it. But even small conversations became awkward. My friend even started snapping at me over little things. Gradually, I started feeling like an intruder. Then one day, he casually mentioned that his family might be coming over for the holidays and that things might get a little tight. He didn’t say it outright, but I got the message. I just wish the situation had been handled better.”
If you want to share your own story, I’d love to hear it here.
In typical Nigerian fashion, the man is expected to be older (and somehow wiser) in most heterosexual relationships, but today, Nigerian women are flipping the script and taking younger lovers.
These five young women sat with Zikoko and spoke about dating younger men and why they prefer them.
“My boyfriend is ten months younger than me, and I’m having a much better time than I did with any of the older men I’ve dated.” — Ngozi* 29
I just started dating younger men. My current boyfriend is ten months younger than me, and I’m having a much better time than my exes, who were all older than I am. He’s gentle, genuinely interested in me and what I like, and never speaks condescendingly to me, even though I learn a lot from him.
I was averse to dating younger men in the past because I hadn’t seen anyone around me do it, but this experience has changed my stance. Don’t let an age gap (within reason) hold you back from experiencing love.
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“Younger men seem so much more earnest.” — Beatrice*, 26
It’s a relatively new experience for me, but younger men seem so much more earnest. They show more vulnerability, and I believe it’s because they think you know more, being older. Younger men get that I don’t want to date you because of what you can “provide” or “do” for me. I just want to explore my feelings for them, but they’re always projecting their own assumptions on me.
“The younger guys I’ve dated are curious, and willing to learn.” — Paloma*, 28
For me, younger men are just more compatible with the lifestyle I want. There’s a quiet arrogance some older Nigerian men carry — like they believe their age automatically makes them better partners. Meanwhile, the younger guys I’ve dated are curious, willing to learn, and they don’t act like they’re doing you a favour by being with you. The mutual respect is everything to me now. I’m not here to raise anyone’s son, but I’m also not here to be raised either. We’re equals.
“Something that stands out to me is that he knows how to express his emotions.” — Lizzie* 30
My boyfriend is two years younger than I am, and it’s been the best dating experience I’ve had so far. I won’t lie, I thought it was weird when he first asked me out —I hadn’t been with anyone younger before. But after three years together, it’s been both pleasant and transformative. For starters, he knows how to express his emotions.
Unlike my past experiences, he’s never tried to punish me with the silent treatment. We have similar hobbies, he’s affectionate and supportive of my passions, the same way I am of his.
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“Dating younger guys is so fun!” – Bolawa*, 28
I started dating younger men two years ago when I was looking for a rebound after a bad break-up, and I haven’t looked back since.
One thing I’ve noticed about these younger men is that they’re so fun! They aren’t as uptight or controlling as the older guys I’ve been with. They know how to relax and joke around.
I haven’t dated anyone seriously since then, but I’m pretty sure if I get into a serious relationship again, it’ll be with someone two or three years younger than I am.
Gina* (37) has had her life planned since her teenage years. The goal was simple: finish school, run a business, make a lot of money, get married, and adopt a child. She was close to getting everything she wanted until a joke from her fiancé’s friend led her to call off the wedding.
This is Gina’s story, as told to Itohan
I’ve always known what I wanted from life. Maybe it’s because I had strict parents or simply my nature, but I’ve always been a planner. In primary school, while other children were uncertain about their futures, I knew I wanted to study and do business.
The interest I had in business began at the age of 10, in the very same primary school. My eldest brother, then at university in another state, would bring back packets of candy when he came home. My mum included them in my school snacks. I noticed that the candy I had was not the kind everyone else in school had, so when my classmates asked for a taste, I sold it to them. Unfortunately, this only lasted a term; a child took some candy home, and upon investigation by their parents, they reported it to the school. My mother made me promise not to sell candy in school again. I agreed, but the experience taught me that I never wanted to work for anybody. I wanted to run a business, and I wanted it to be a great one.
In SS2, I was 16 and running a surprise package business for the boarders. In my first year of University, I got my first carryover in the second semester while running a jewellery business and so I switched to helping other people finance their own business ideas. Then, after graduating, I opened a shop and started selling jewellery.
When I turned 26, after running a business for a couple of years, I decided to get my MBA. I had a shop on the island, where I officially sold jewellery; I wanted to close it when I was travelling out, but my mother insisted I leave it open. I am eternally grateful to her. She had retired from her job as a teacher and decided to help me run the day-to-day operations while I went to get my degree. Honestly, she was my best friend and the only person I could truly trust, so I let it happen.
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A couple of months into my stay in the UK, I met someone. His name is Yinka*, and he was two years older than me. We lived in the same building, so I saw him almost every day. Either when he was returning from work, or I was heading to class. Sometimes, we’d stop to chat about life back home, and he’d give me tips on how best to adjust since he had been in the UK for over five years before I arrived. Our friendship was nice and I felt lucky to find someone I could confide in so early into my stay.
A few weeks after we became friends, he asked me out on our first date, and I agreed. I was about to be done with my MBA, and my mother told me my business was running smoothly (by this time we’d added importation of weave-ons and wigs). Life was going great, and I genuinely believed I’d won the lottery. We started dating a couple of months after that first date. We spent weekends together and went on a few trips. I had shared my plans and my goals with him; how I just wanted to work for as long as I could, and then adopt a child to care for. He seemed so aligned with my vision, I thought it was too good to be true.
I finished my MBA at 28 and was ready to return home and continue building my business. But Yinka asked me to stay back in the UK with him for two more years before we both moved back to Nigeria. I didn’t want to wait, my body was itching to get back to work. There was so much to do, and my mum was no longer as young as she once was. That caused one of our first major fights, but after not speaking for two days, we talked it through. The plan became that I would go back to Nigeria, and he’d stay in the UK. Then, when he was ready to return permanently, we’d do our introduction and get married. Simple, right? Well, it should have been.
When I got back home, my small shop, thanks to my mother’s help, had grown bigger. Gold, fashion jewellery, lace, hollandaise, weave-ons, we sold it all. We had various smaller shops, plus a main shop for those buying wholesale. The first thing I did when I got back was buy my mother a new car. She had basically helped me build my empire. It was the least I could do for her.
Yinka, however, was not impressed. He complained that I was splurging, instead of saving towards our marriage plans and settling in Nigeria. We fought again. Most of our fights were around money, how to manage it, and investment. We operated a 50/50 household because that’s how I was raised. Your money is your money, my money is mine, and household needs are our money. I was confused as to why these issues kept coming up when we were not even on the same continent. I tried to chalk it up to the distance and stress from work and business, but something just felt off.
After two years in Nigeria, Yinka finally came to join me. A month later, he proposed after asking my parents for their permission to marry me. I was 31, happy, and finally about to achieve everything I’d planned for myself since I was a teenager. We planned to marry the following year, we saw no need for a long engagement when we’d known what we wanted for years.
Four months into our engagement, I’d already met with a wedding planner, booked a venue, and sorted some other things. My mum was having the time of her life with the planning, while Yinka was hardly ever around to contribute. He said, “Weddings are women’s things. Do whatever you like, I’ll show up that day and marry you.” And that’s what I did. I chose items that I felt represented both of us. I wanted it to be special. That’s why I decided to have a bridal party. We invited his groomsmen and my bridesmaids and organised a beach party. The plan was for everyone to become friends and just get closer. I didn’t want situations where people would have bad blood.
That night, Yinka and some of his friends were drinking and chilling by the beach. I had excused myself to go to the bathroom, and on my way back, I overheard their conversation. His friend, Bode*, asked if we’d be moving to the UK after our wedding. Yinka had said no because we’d planned to stay in Nigeria, run my business, and raise our adopted child. Then Bode started laughing. He called Yinka a woman and said, “Are you not ashamed that your wife’s dick is bigger than yours? Instead of getting her pregnant and moving her to the UK where you can open a corner store for her, you’re doing as she says.” All his friends burst into laughter like Bode had just cracked the funniest joke.
But it wasn’t their laughter that bothered me, it was that Yinka laughed too. He laughed as his “friends” reduced my business degree and years of hard work to a “corner store in London.” He laughed, knowing full well I didn’t want to birth children. And when he didn’t correct them but instead shook their hands and patted their backs, I knew I’d seen enough. I quietly went back to the room at the beach house and sent a message to my mother: I’m not interested in getting married anymore. It was a brief summary of what had happened. I knew she wouldn’t see it until the morning, but I sent it anyway. Early the next day, before anyone else was awake, I placed the ring on the table and sent a message to Yinka to tell him I was calling off the wedding.
On my way home, my phone wouldn’t stop ringing. My siblings, my mother, Yinka, and his family, everyone was calling. Yinka and his family kept insisting I misunderstood, but honestly, I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand. I thought he was comfortable with the life I’d chosen, but it turns out I was wrong. Instead of keeping both of us in a relationship that would turn sour and miserable, I chose to save us. He begged for months but eventually gave up when he realised I wasn’t changing my mind.
It’s been years since I called off the engagement. My business is doing great. I still invest in people’s businesses from time to time and work to get loans for female small business owners so they can pursue their dreams. Last I heard, Yinka is seeing someone, and I’m happy for both of them. His mother and I still keep in touch, because unlike her son, she doesn’t make jokes like that at my expense. I’m happy where I am right now, and I still plan to adopt a child. I may not have gotten everything I planned to get, but I got a lesson and a happy life. What more could I ask for?
Sunken Ships is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.
Babatunde’s*(57) girlfriend dumped him in 1998 because her parents had reservations about his originating state. 27 years and a whole life later, she wants them to give their love another chance.
In this story, Babatunde* shares how they met, the fallout from their split, and whether he’s willing to give a former flame a new beginning.
Let’s start at the very beginning. Where did you two meet?
I met Yewande* during our pre-degree program at the Lagos State University in 1989. I liked her a lot, but she didn’t share my affection. I don’t even think she noticed me until the end of our 100 level.
What about you eventually caught her eye?
We were classmates studying mathematics, and I made an excellent result in my first year. So, I became the popular classmate who organised tutorials, explainers, and the like. One day, she came to my living space off campus for one of my tutorials, and we hit it off. We started dating officially in 1990.
What was your relationship with Yewande like?
It was lovely while it lasted; we were really into each other. Each time she came to school for the semester, she would bring foodstuff for me— rice, beans, tinned food, you name it. I remember that in 1995, after we had survived all the strikes and finished our degree, we were deployed for our NYSC program almost immediately. She was posted to Bauchi while I was posted to Owerri. So I joined her on her trip and followed her to her camp in Bauchi to ensure she got there safely and settled in properly before travelling to Owerri to begin my service year.
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Wow, romance is real o. What could possibly have come between you guys?
By 1998, we had finished our NYSC and were working decent jobs. I got a placement in an oil company in Port Harcourt while she was doing well as a teacher in Lagos. We had started to talk about marriage and settling down.
The issue began when her parents asked where I was from. I’m an Egba man, and her dad didn’t want his daughter to marry an Egba man. I was confused because Yewande is from Abeokuta, and both tribes are from Ogun state, but her father was against our union.
At the same time, her mum was against the relationship because I’m a muslim. I guess the pressure from both parents was too much for her to push back against, but that wasn’t the only factor.
What other factor caused the split?
She started dating someone else! At first, she came to me on one of my visits to Lagos and said a guy had given her a pamphlet to help her join an institute and become a professional PR person. I loved that she was exploring careers and supported her decision. On my next visit, she claimed the guy had forced himself on her. At first, I was livid but as I kept trying to get information on what happened, her story didn’t add up. I tried to talk to her brother about it so we could take the appropriate next steps, and that’s when he confided in me that they had been seeing each other for some time.
Oh wow. Did you confront her about it?
No. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. She became very scarce each time I tried to visit. If I were in Lagos, she would suddenly be very busy, or a family emergency needed her attention. After a few months, I heard that she got married, and that was the end of the relationship for me.
It was awful. People at my job noticed how depressed and withdrawn I became and started trying to match me with people, but I couldn’t connect with anyone for a while. But I met my wife in 1999, and we got married in December. I moved on with my life after that until 2007, when Yewande contacted me out of the blue.
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Interesting. Were you surprised?
I was shocked. She had gotten my number from a mutual friend and asked to meet in person. We both lived in Lagos at that point, so it was easy to meet up. She wanted my assistance because her mum was ill. I was happy to help as much as possible, and we remained cordial after that, talking occasionally.I can say we are are friends. Then she called me two years ago to meet up again.
What did you guys talk about?
Our past relationship. She said she wanted to apologise for how we broke up and begged my forgiveness. She also said I should pray for her, which shocked me. I assured her that time had healed the wound and that I had already forgiven her. Shortly after this meeting, her husband, who moved to Norway early in their marriage and never came back, passed away.
Did you reach out to her after her husband died?
Yes, I called to commiserate with her. After a while, she called me more often, but I missed many. Then one day, her daughter reached out to me, saying I should please talk to her mother because she wasn’t in a good place mentally. Of course, I called her immediately to make sure she was doing okay. On that call, she talked about her struggles and mentioned that before her brother died, he always said that we would get back together again, but I shrugged it off.
Unfortunately, my wife passed away last year. Yewande learned from a mutual friend and ramped up her communication with me. She started sending lovey-dovey messages and asking to meet up again. She also sent messages saying she wants to repair the harm she had done.
Did you agree to meet her?
After a good deal of thought, yes. We met at a bar and talked a little, and after giving me several promises about taking care of me, I realised I couldn’t go through with it. Though I have truly forgiven her, I don’t think I can ever completely trust her after she betrayed me at the end of our relationship. I know her parents put her under a lot of pressure, but I felt like she would have handled it differently if she cared about me. I let her know this as kindly as possible, and we parted ways as friends.
Do you think anything would make you consider reconciling with Yewande?
No, I don’t see myself being with someone I can’t trust, especially at my age.
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Someone joked that other Nigerian celebrities are probably telling their kids that Priscilla Ojo doesn’t have two heads. They may not be wrong. The 24-year-old Priscilla Ojo, the first daughter of actress Iyabo Ojo, is currently the most talked-about celebrity kid in Nigeria — thanks to her trending love life with Juma Mkambala, AKA Juma Jux, a 34-year-old Tanzanian singer.
Since the day the two lovebirds appeared on each other’s feeds in 2024, it’s been endless sweetness and viral moments on social media. They’re a Nigerian blogger’s dream and have frequently made headlines for their whirlwind romance.
With their wedding scheduled for this month, we’ve decided to curate a complete timeline of Priscilla and Jux’s relationship — from their first encounter to their upcoming nuptials.
“The first day I saw Priscilla in Rwanda, I missed my flight and couldn’t get a business-class seat because it was full,” he said. “I was pissed off, and after passing through the business class section, I saw her laughing at me. I told my team I wouldn’t talk to any of those ladies again. Later, we went to stay at the same hotel.”
Recalling how he later warmed up to Priscilla, Jux said, “She wasn’t feeling well that day, while Chioma Ikokwu [Priscilla’s friend] was charming and making friends with many people. I started a conversation with her friend, and from there, I gained confidence, and we began talking. I liked her from the first day I saw her at the airport. There was something about her I couldn’t explain, but I knew my heart was drawn to her.”
By June 2024, news of their relationship started making the rounds.
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June – July 2024: Juma Jux and Priscilla become IG official
Priscilla first appeared on Jux’s page in June 2024, when he posted a video featuring her to promote his song “Maboss” with Billnass. At the time, many assumed it was just a publicity stunt to push the track.
However, in July 2024, Priscilla made things official with a photo post on Instagram, simply captioned “Mine.” That marked the beginning of their love story in the public eye.
August 2024: Iyabo Ojo meets Juma Jux
Juma Jux visited Nigeria to meet Priscilla’s mum, Iyabo Ojo, for the first time. In a viral clip, the three were seen eating and posing for photos.
September 2024: Iyabo Ojo confirms Priscilla’s engagement
That same month, Jux released “Ololufe Mi”, a song featuring Diamond Platnumz, which he dedicated to Priscilla. She also appeared in the music video.
December 2024: Iyabo Ojo reveals wedding details
During an interview with Goldmyne at the premiere of Seven Doors, Iyabo Ojo revealed that Priscilla and Jux’s wedding would happen in April 2025. She described it as a four-part, carnival-style celebration: two parts in Nigeria, one in Tanzania, and a final destination wedding. The official colours? Olive and a touch of gold.
The news sparked mixed reactions. While many shared in her joy, others felt she was revealing too much.
February 2025: Nikkah in Tanzania
On February 8 and 9, Juma Jux and Priscilla Ojo had their Nikkah ceremony in Tanzania. During the event, Priscilla revealed her new Islamic name, Hadiza, and Mkambala, her husband’s family name.
Guests included Eniola Adeoluwa, Mitchelle Gentry (Mercy Aigbe’s daughter), and of course, her mum Iyabo Ojo. However, the ceremony drew even more attention and scrutiny when news spread that Priscilla’s father was absent.
Paulo Okoye, Iyabo Ojo’s partner and Priscilla’s stepfather, shared his excitement and readiness on Instagram, confirming that the Lagos wedding is set for April 17, 2025.
