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  • The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

    How long have you been with your partner?

    My husband, David, and I have been married for five years. We met in 2020 and married that same year.

    How did that happen?

    I’d just started my service year in Ekiti when the COVID lockdown happened. My parents live in Delta, which is quite a distance from Ekiti. I thought the lockdown would end quickly, so I stayed back, believing it would be a waste of money to go home. 

    At that point, I was already a member of David’s father’s church, and the church helped corps members who didn’t want to go home find accommodation with church members. I stayed with a lady who lived close to David’s house, and almost every day, he would visit me, bearing food. 

    According to David, he didn’t do that because he liked me. He’s just a giver who tries to help as many people as possible around him. However, we began to learn more about each other during these daily visits, and he felt that God had told him I would be his wife. When he told me this, we’d only known each other for two weeks.

    What was your reaction?

    I was surprised, but I prayed about it and got confirmation from God that he was the one. I initially didn’t even want to pray about his proposal. He was a pastor in his father’s church, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a pastor’s wife. 

    I’ve always heard about the sacrifices it takes to marry a pastor. He wouldn’t likely make a lot of money, and I had to accept that he’d divide his time between his home and the church. I’d also need to be a “role model” for women in the church, and have a big heart to mentor people and listen to their problems. It just felt like such a big role that I wasn’t prepared for. 

    Additionally, I always had a mental picture of myself working for about two years and earning money before settling down. Yet, I was jobless, without any financial safety net, and God was telling me to get married. It felt like He was carrying all my plans and throwing them away to make way for His own.

    However, I felt peace after praying and getting confirmation. I also shared my worries with his mum, and she gave me helpful advice and encouragement for the journey ahead. She helped me understand that God’s grace was available to support the responsibility He was placing on me, and I only needed to seek His help continually. 

    So, I accepted David’s proposal, and we got married five months later.

    What were finances like, considering you didn’t have a job and he was a pastor?

    We lived on the goodwill of people for the first two years of our marriage. David’s dad used to give him a ₦30k salary, but even with the most extreme managing, the money only lasted us about three weeks. 

    To make things worse, I got pregnant immediately after the wedding and had high blood pressure throughout the pregnancy and for some months after delivery, so I couldn’t work. Thankfully, we never went hungry. David’s parents and other church members often gave us foodstuff.

    Things started to get better in 2023. I got my current job, which pays me ₦85k, and I started pitching in with living expenses. Sadly, David’s dad passed away in 2024, so he’s now the head pastor. The promotion came with a higher salary — ₦70k/month. We have two kids now, so our combined salary is still quite low, but God keeps providing for us.

    What kind of money conversations do you have with your husband?

    It’s mostly about what needs to be done or bought at home. We treat our finances like a joint system; whenever the other person gets money, we bring it to do what needs to be done. 

    That’s especially necessary because, even though my husband has a salary, we can’t completely depend on it. I can just hear, “This sister in church hasn’t paid school fees, so I sent her money,” or “I felt led to give this person money.” Sometimes, he tells me before giving out money, but I can’t discourage him, even though it can be an inconvenience. I believe God blesses people so they can be a blessing to bless others. We’re also recipients of the generosity of others. 

    So, I can’t stop him from emptying his account to help people. It’s just difficult to plan because I can’t say the money we have today is what we’ll have tomorrow. The only income we can plan on is my salary, because people usually go to the pastor for their financial problems, not his wife. 

    Still, our finances are usually tight because ₦85k is not enough. My husband can still come and suggest that we use my salary to do something in the church. One time, we used the money we planned for electricity units to fix the church generator while we sat in darkness for two days.

    Hmm

    I often feel stressed because of our financial situation, but one thing I can say is that my husband tries his best to make me happy. He’s a good man.

    I also try to put my hope in God instead of our bank accounts. Once, we were completely broke, and someone sent my husband ₦50k out of the blue. Miracles like that happen a lot. It’s just that, I’m someone who loves to plan. I don’t like waiting to “see what happens.” But I’m learning to let God take control. 

    What are your thoughts about safety nets?

    I try to push for us to save for house rent and emergencies, but it hardly works out. What usually happens is that we’ll save for a while, and something almost always comes along to take the money away. 

    Still, I ensure that I keep some money aside whenever we receive financial gifts or any extra money. Right now, I have ₦62k in my savings.

    Do you have a budget for romance and gifts in your relationship?

    There’s no budget; we just get things for each other when there’s money. People often tease me, saying I must have a turban in every colour, and that’s my husband’s doing. When he has money, he buys me turbans or Ankara material so we can sew matching outfits.

    On the other hand, my husband doesn’t like gifts. I can buy him a wristwatch today, and he’ll say, “Someone would have appreciated the money you used to buy this.” So, I just maintain myself and only buy him things he absolutely needs, like singlets, boxers and shirts when I have money.

    What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

    One of my husband’s sons in the Lord recently gifted him a plot of land. The goal is for us to build a hostel so we can make money from it or build our own house. I believe it’ll be a good investment for our future.

    Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, click here.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: My Wife’s Salary Is Important, but I Want Her to Quit

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  • 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.

    When Damola* (26) tried to get some help from his friends when he was in a tight spot, their mocking response made him reconsider whether the friendship was worth continuing at all.

    In this Sunken Ships, he shares how he joined his friend group and how he came to the painful decision to end their friendship.

    What moment made you realise that your friendship had gone downhill?

    I tried to borrow some money from my friends because I was in a tough spot, but instead of helping me out, they mocked me, and that spelt the end of our friendship. It hurt me a lot.

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    Take me back to the beginning. How did you become friends with them?

    I met them in my first year at the Polytechnic, Ibadan* in 2015. Tife*, John*, Tobi* and I bonded over our shared love for football and became very close after a few months. It helped that we were in the same hostel. It meant we spent a great deal of time together.

    How would you describe the dynamics of your friendship?

    We were very close. We went to school together every day, relied on each other, shared our resources when we had them, and even our families knew how close we had become. I really thought that we would stick together through school, and beyond but that wasn’t the case.

    What changed?

    A rift began to grow between me and the others in the group when they became involved in internet fraud.

    How did that happen?

    In January 2016, after the Christmas break, Tobi came to school flaunting a new iPhone. We were all surprised and thought he had received it as a Christmas gift, but he said he had bought it himself.

    Did you ask how he got the money?

    Yes, but he only gave vague answers about how a ‘friend’ abroad had sent it to him. After class that day, we tried to press him for more information about the phone.

    How did he respond?

    He told us about how he had learned to get money from guys online by pretending to be a girl on Snapchat. Then he raved about how lucrative it was and even offered to teach the rest of us how to do the same. The other boys were interested and took him up on his offer, but I didn’t.

    Why did you refuse?

    My conscience wouldn’t let me. I wasn’t raised to steal. I knew that I couldn’t be proud of myself doing something like that. Also, I was afraid of getting in trouble with the police.

    Okay, what happened after that?

    The boy started making a lot of money very quickly. They spent it on girls, clothes, shoes, and gadgets. Their popularity at school soared overnight.

    Did any of your parents or people in authority ask where all this extra money was coming from?

    We were away from home, so our parents didn’t notice the boys’ sudden lifestyle changes. Only John’s mum asked once when he paid for his younger brother’s school fees, but he told her he was doing ‘small online jobs’.

    Wow. Okay, what happened next?

    They started pressuring me to join them in the different scams they were doing. I refused each time, but I thought we could still maintain our friendship, and I would just ignore what they did. But what happened soon after made me realise that it wouldn’t be possible.

    Tell me about that.

    I needed some money to fix my laptop screen. I thought I could borrow the money from my friends, but the way they responded cut me deep.

    What did they say?

    They taunted me, saying, ‘Sebi, you said you don’t want to do what we’re doing,’ and laughed at me. I wouldn’t have minded if they had just said no, but I couldn’t stand their mockery. I eventually got the money I needed from my uncle and withdrew from the group after that.

    Did they ever try to reach out to you when you drew back?

    Only a few times. It was usually an invitation to a party or an outing, but I always found an excuse to be absent. I didn’t want to be in their company anymore. Eventually, they stopped reaching out, and I think my life was better off for it.

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    Did it hurt to leave the friendship so suddenly?

    Yes. For a few weeks after I decided to pull back from them, I was a loner. I didn’t make another proper friend till my second year in school.

    That’s wild. Do you know how they’re doing now?

    I’m not sure. All three of them dropped out in the middle of our second year. I heard that they moved to Lagos, but I focused on my schooling instead.

    Do you think you’d consider being friends again if they stopped doing fraudulent work?

    No. I think we’re better off apart. Even when they had extra resources, they mocked me instead of helping me out. Also, the fraud is hard to ignore. Those are not the kind of people I want in my life.

    See what other people are saying about this article on social media.

    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!

  • Before marriage, Yinusa* (41) never imagined himself as a husband or father. For years, he focused on work, convinced it was better to stay single than bring a wife and children into hardship. Eight years after finally taking the leap, the 41-year-old has the family he once feared he couldn’t afford, but he’s still unlearning the survival mindset that shaped him.

    In this week’s Marriage Diaries, he shares how childhood poverty influences the way he loves, why overworking nearly cost him peace at home and why he believes love alone can’t hold a marriage together.

    This is a look into his marriage diary.

    Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

    I never dreamed of marriage because I wasn’t sure I could afford it

    I never sat down to imagine what my marriage would look like. When you grow up watching your parents struggle to provide, you don’t daydream about family life, you daydream about escaping poverty.

    As a child, I started noticing how much they deprived themselves so we could eat and go to school. It built something inside me that I still carry: a fear of being the man who cannot provide. I didn’t want my future children to experience the kind of lack that followed my family.

    So instead of thinking about marriage, I focused on surviving and making headway in life. In university, I didn’t date. I didn’t have the bandwidth for relationship drama when feeding myself was already a struggle. Even after school, dating didn’t cross my mind for years. I buried myself in work because I believed that until I was financially stable, I had no business dragging someone else’s child into my life.

    It’s funny now because the man who once didn’t think marriage was possible is now a husband and a father. But back then, marriage was a luxury I didn’t think I could afford.

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    The biggest surprise is that this life actually became mine

    I got married in my late thirties, at a time when I finally felt like I could stand on my own two feet. I wasn’t rich, but I wasn’t scrambling anymore. Still, the real shock hit me after I got married.

    Sometimes, I sit in my living room watching my kids play with toys I couldn’t even dream of owning at their age. Sometimes I watch them eat without worrying about whether the food will last until the end of the month. And it hits me again that I made it. I gave my children the childhood I had prayed for, but never had.

    That feeling still surprises me.

    Another surprise is how aligned I am with my wife. I didn’t marry in a rush, but I still wasn’t expecting someone whose mindset almost mirrors mine. She supports me, understands me, and pushes me without dragging me. I didn’t think I would be lucky in that way. After all the years of worrying, I ended up with someone who sees life the way I do.

    Sometimes I still ask myself if this calm is normal or if trouble is waiting somewhere ahead. When you grow up looking over your shoulders, peace feels far-fetched. But I look at my life and how far I’ve come, and I  can say I have peace.

    I was fully prepared for marriage when I went into it

    Unlike many people, I never had that moment inside marriage where I questioned if I’d made a mistake. My doubts happened years before I even met my wife.

    My parents tried to pressure me into marriage once I crossed 30, the same way many Nigerian parents do. They didn’t care if I was prepared. They just wanted to tick the box. Anytime I challenged them with a simple question about whether they could sponsor a wedding, they went silent.

    During that period of pressure, I briefly dated someone who wanted me for all the wrong reasons. She and her family saw me as a means to an end. It reminded me again of why I wasn’t ready for marriage. They’d insist I come over for weekends, but I knew it was a ploy to get into my pockets. I never felt comfortable going empty-handed, so each visit took a deep cut into my finances. What made it so annoying was how normal my girlfriend at the time made it seem, almost like it was my duty. I left the situation after six months.

    By the time I met my wife, I was already prepared. I had waited until I was in a place where I could give my family stability. Once I made the decision, that was it. I didn’t have any fears or doubts about my capability to build a family.

    But what I wasn’t prepared for was realising that even when you think you’ve left your childhood trauma behind, it still finds a way to control how you behave inside marriage. I brought my fear of poverty with me into my marriage and the panic of lack. I had to do a lot of unlearning, and my wife was really patient with me. I can’t say I’ve changed completely, but it’s way better.

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    Nobody told me how hard it would be to balance providing and being present

    The real shock came after we had our first child. That was when something in me switched on, almost like a survival mode I didn’t know was still inside me. Suddenly, I was back to the boy who grew up watching his parents struggle, and the fear returned stronger than ever.

    I started working like a madman. I would leave home before sunrise and return at 11 p.m. most days. I didn’t need to work that hard, but my mind kept telling me I had no choice. Even when we were financially okay, I always assumed trouble was around the corner, or we were one debit alert away from financial woes.

    That took a toll on my family. My wife and child were living with a ghost husband. I was providing everything except my presence. It took small arguments and a few emotional conversations for me to realise I was repeating the same pattern I grew up in: a father who loved his family deeply but was never around enough to show it.

    I’m still learning to balance the hustle with being there. Some days I get it right, some days I slip. But at least I’m aware now. I don’t want my kids to grow up calling me a good provider but a missing father.

    Money arguments forced me to adjust the way I communicate

    Money is the one thing that causes tension between my wife and I. She likes to celebrate things. She didn’t grow up in lack the way I did, so she doesn’t understand why I live like a man waiting for money to disappear overnight.

    Every year, we fight a little about birthdays. She believes in having a small gathering or inviting a few people over. I only want a quiet day and maybe a meal with my family. Whenever she pushes for anything more, I feel stressed because all I see are bills. And when I mention school fees coming up, she rolls her eyes and says life isn’t meant to be lived with fear.

    It used to be a big issue, but I’ve started making adjustments. I’m beginning to understand that her happiness matters too. She doesn’t want to live on the edge of fear the way I do. So I’m learning to compromise, even though my first instinct is always to say no.

    These days, when we argue, I try to explain myself calmly. It doesn’t always work, but at least it’s not what it used to be. I’m learning that communication is not only about saying the right thing, but also about saying it without projecting your own trauma onto the other person.

    Marriage made me a better man, but it also intensified parts of me I’m still working through

    Marriage has given me a sense of responsibility I am genuinely proud of. My wife and kids come first. If they need something, I will find a way to provide it. I don’t think anyone who knew me ten years ago would recognise how committed I am now.

    But marriage also amplified my fear of lack. I’m constantly chasing the next job, the next gig, the next financial cushion. Sometimes I forget to rest or catch my breath.

    Still, I wouldn’t change where I am. I’ve gained confidence, stability and a softer heart. I’ve also gained pressure, fear and the constant urge to work harder. 

    If I could talk to my younger self, I would tell him one thing: take your time. Don’t rush into marriage because society says so. Make sure you are truly ready. And when you finally find someone you want to build a life with, show up fully. Not just with money, but also with your presence.

    Love alone won’t sustain a marriage. Fear won’t sustain it either. What keeps it going is a combination of commitment, patience, communication and the willingness to unlearn things that no longer serve you. 

    *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

    Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

  • Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.

    Bose* (55) and Tayo*(34) became close friends after bonding over their shared experiences as stay-at-home mothers. However, Bose’s well-intentioned assistance to Tayo’s husband started a chain of events that has now left her questioning her choices.

    When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did Bose fuck up or not?

    Tayo and I met when I moved into my apartment with my family in 2018. She lived in the flat directly opposite mine, and as stay-at-home mums, we began to spend time together after our kids had gone off to school. 

    I was initially reluctant to throw myself into our friendship due to our significant age gap, but it didn’t prove to be an issue, and I took on a “big sister” role in Tayo’s life.

    Because of our closeness, our families also became close, and so when she complained that her husband couldn’t get a better-paying job, I asked my husband to help him find better opportunities. My husband connected hers with a new job that came with a generous salary in Abuja. Unfortunately, this became a source of strain in Tayo’s marriage.

    She felt that the new distance created by her husband’s job, along with his bigger salary, would give him the space and resources to begin cheating on her. I knew Tayo’s husband and felt that he was a good man who wouldn’t betray her, so I told her to stop thinking negatively about it and instead consider the positives that came with his job. She didn’t see things my way.

    On a trip to visit her husband in late 2019, she went to his office and accused one of his coworkers of trying to wreck her home. Her evidence? Her husband uploaded a group photo taken at the office to his Facebook page, and she had noticed the lady was standing “too close to him to be his friend”. Tayo’s husband felt embarrassed, and he also got into trouble at work, receiving a stern warning.

    When I heard about this from her husband, I was disappointed in Tayo and tried to speak to her about it, but she insisted that if she didn’t do something too drastic, her husband was bound to try to cheat on her when he was away.

    The lockdown rolled around in 2020, and our husbands couldn’t visit from Abuja as often as they used to, so we kept each other company for the most part. In September that year, I noticed that Tayo was spending more and more time with a man who owned a car dealership near the neighbourhood. 

    As a friend, I advised that it wasn’t a good look for a married woman to be spending so much time with an older bachelor, especially since it was within the neighbourhood. I was sure that tongues would soon start wagging and spreading rumours. She dismissed my concerns and didn’t take my advice seriously.

    As I predicted, rumours that Tayo and the car dealer were dating started spreading and eventually got back to her husband. When he came home for the Christmas break, they had a huge argument about it that ended with Tayo’s husband storming out of the flat and going back to Abuja. 

    I tried to de-escalate things, but Tayo confirmed to me that she was indeed dating the car dealer, and he had promised to marry her and accept her kids, too. She said they planned to relocate to Germany in January 2021, and she would file for divorce. There was nothing I didn’t say to try to convince her to change her mind, but she claimed to have lost trust in her husband and was ready to leave.

    January came, and one day, I woke up to Tayoknocking angrily at my door, accusing me of destroying her marriage. I was shocked. 

    When I asked why she’d accuse me of that,  she said the car dealer had broken up with her and had gone on with his relocation plans with another woman. She blamed my husband and me for introducing her husband to a job that led to their marriage becoming a long-distance one, which she claimed was the main source of their problems. 

    I won’t deny that I felt bad for her. I even followed her and some of her family members to visit her in-laws, to try to see if we could get her husband to forgive her and reconcile, but he refused and insisted that they go through with the divorce.

    We still live opposite each other, but our friendship has fizzled out. She no longer responds when I greet her in the mornings, and she keeps her children away from mine.

    I thought I was helping a friend out by securing a better job for her husband. Was I wrong for not considering that she would hate the distance that came with it? My husband says it was her jealousy that was her undoing, but I can’t shake the feeling that my interference also played a role.

    See what other people are saying about this article on social media.

    READ NEXT: Nigerians Open Up On The Friendships That Saved Their Lives

  • Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.

    Gozie* (28) and Amara* (28) met at a Lagos Passport Office in April 2024. What started as a kind gesture—Gozie helping a sick stranger get through her appointment—turned into friendship, and eventually, a relationship. 

    On this week’s Love Life, they talk about meeting by chance, bonding over relocation dreams, and whether his reluctance to give when asked is a sign of stinginess or a deeper problem.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Amara: April 2024, at the passport office in Ikoyi. I wasn’t feeling well  — I was dizzy, nauseous, and completely out of it. I’d been sitting there for hours waiting for my number to be called, and I could feel myself getting weaker. I realised I couldn’t manage everything on my own. I had files to organise, and I needed to listen for when they called my number. So I turned to this guy sitting next to me and asked if he could keep an eye on my things and let me know when they called my number.

    Gozie: I remember that day. I noticed Amara immediately when she sat down next to me. She looked really pale, like she might pass out at any moment. I wasn’t sure whether to say something or mind my own business, but she clearly wasn’t doing well. When she asked for my help, I was more than happy to assist. I watched her files, listened for her number, and when they finally called her, I helped her gather her documents. After her appointment, she was too weak to wait for a cab under the sun. So I offered to order a ride for her on my phone.

    Amara: I was so grateful. Before I got in the car, we exchanged numbers. I wanted to be able to thank him properly later and maybe reimburse him for the ride.

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    When did you reach out to him?

    Amara: Almost immediately. I kept thanking him over text for the next few days. I even tried to refund him for the ride, but he refused to take it. After that, we’d chat occasionally — random messages here and there about our days.

    Gozie: I didn’t think much of it at first. I was just being a decent human being. I didn’t think we’d become anything more than two people who met at the passport office and stayed loosely in touch.

    Right. 

    Amara: About a month later. We both went back to pick up our passports, and we ran into each other again. It felt like fate.

    Gozie: I saw her in the queue and walked over to say hi. We ended up talking for a while, much longer than we had the first time. We talked about why we were getting passports, where we wanted to go, and what our plans were. That’s when I learned she didn’t actually have pressing relocation plans yet.

    Amara: My parents just insisted I get the passport so I’d have it ready whenever I needed it. They’re big on being prepared. Gozie, on the other hand, had an actual plan. His sibling was abroad and helping him sort out his relocation.

    Gozie: Yeah, I was actively working toward relocating. I had timelines, researching visa processes and was saving money, among other things. When I told her, she seemed genuinely interested. That’s when we started talking more regularly. We’d share articles, send each other links about opportunities abroad, and discuss visa application processes. It gave us something concrete to bond over.

    Amara: It felt really good to have someone who understood what I was thinking about. Most of my friends weren’t considering relocation at all, so I couldn’t really discuss it with them. But Gozie got it. We were both in similar headspaces, so our conversations just flowed.

    At what point did things start to shift from a platonic level?

    Gozie: Around October. I’d ended my previous relationship a few weeks before that. My ex was very demanding and she was always asking for something — money, time, attention, more money. No matter what I did, it was never enough. I’d send her money, and a week later, she’d need more. I’d spend time with her, and she’d complain I wasn’t doing enough. It became exhausting. Eventually, I realised I couldn’t keep going like that, so I ended things.

    Did Amara know you’d just come out of a relationship?

    Amara: Not immediately. He didn’t tell me right away. I found out later when he opened up about it during one of our conversations.

    Gozie: After the breakup, I wasn’t actively looking for another relationship. But as Amara and I continued talking, I began to see her differently. She was easy to be around. Our conversations were light; she didn’t put any pressure on me, and I genuinely enjoyed her company. I started thinking, “Maybe this could be something.”

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    Did you feel the same way, Amara?

    Amara: It happened gradually. At first, he was just the nice guy who helped me at the passport office. Then he became the friend I discussed relocation plans with. But somewhere along the line, I started looking forward to his messages. I’d check my phone, hoping to see a text from him. That’s when I knew it was shifting into something else.

    Gozie: In October, I decided to just be honest with her. I told her I liked her and that I wanted us to be more than friends. I didn’t wish to rush anything, but I also didn’t want to keep pretending I only saw her as a friend.

    Amara:  I wasn’t surprised. I’d had a feeling he was interested. And honestly, I felt the same way. So I said yes.

    Nice. What were the early days of the relationship like?

    Gozie: Really sweet. We talked every day, saw each other whenever we could. It felt easy and natural. There was no awkward “getting to know you” phase because we’d already been talking for months as friends. The only real challenge was the distance. She lives on the Island, and I live in Ikorodu. Anyone who knows Lagos knows that’s not a small distance. Depending on traffic, it could take two to three hours just to see each other.

    Amara: Yeah, it wasn’t easy. We had to be very intentional about making time for it. He’d come to my place sometimes after work, and I’d go to his on weekends. Sometimes we’d meet somewhere in the middle just to spend a few hours together. It required effort, but we were both willing to put in the work. But a few months into the relationship, I began to notice that Gozie was tight with money.

    What do you mean?

    Amara: He’s generous when it’s his idea. When we go out, he pays without me having to ask. When he decides he wants to buy me something, he does it happily. But the moment I ask him for anything, it becomes a problem. He hesitates, makes excuses, or gives begrudgingly.

    Gozie: I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.

    Amara: It is accurate. I’ve experienced it multiple times. The most painful one was during my birthday this year.

    What happened on your birthday?

    Amara: I’d been saving up to buy a new phone, but I was a bit short. So I asked Gozie if he could help me. I wasn’t asking him to buy the entire phone; I just wanted him to support me with whatever he could. He eventually gave me ₦100k, but the way he did it made me feel terrible. It felt like I was pulling teeth. He made it seem like I was asking for something outrageous and like I was a burden. Like I shouldn’t have even asked in the first place.

    Curious, Gozie. Why did you feel reluctant to give her the money?

    Gozie: I don’t like being asked for things. When I give on my own terms, it’s because I genuinely want to. There’s joy in it. But when someone asks, it feels like a demand. It changes the dynamic completely. Suddenly, I’m giving because I feel obligated. I understand that we’re in a relationship. But I also have financial goals. I’m actively saving for relocation. Every naira I spend affects my timeline. I can’t just be handing out money every time someone asks, even if it’s my girlfriend.

    Amara: Your girlfriend asking you for help on her birthday shouldn’t feel like an obligation. It should feel natural. He works, he earns well, and I know he has money. I wasn’t asking him to break his bank account. The fact that he gave it grudgingly made me feel like I didn’t matter enough. Like my needs were an inconvenience to him.

    And the worst part? It’s not an isolated incident. This is a pattern. Every single time I ask for help— whether it’s money or anything else — he hesitates. He makes me feel like I’m asking for too much. So now, I’ve stopped asking entirely because I don’t want to deal with the awkwardness.

    Gozie, do you think you’re stingy?

    Gozie: No. I don’t think I’m stingy; I’m careful and intentional with money. There’s a difference between being stingy and having financial boundaries. The problem is when it’s demanded of me. That’s when I start feeling uncomfortable.

    I see. Do you think Amara is demanding?

    Gozie: I don’t think she’s trying to be. But asking for things puts pressure on me. And that pressure reminds me of my last relationship, where I constantly felt like an ATM.

    So you’re treating Amara based on what your ex did?

    Gozie: Maybe. I don’t know. I just know that when someone asks me for money repeatedly, it triggers something in me. It makes me feel like I’m being taken advantage of, even if that’s not the intention.

    Amara: But I’m not your ex. I don’t ask for things all the time. I ask maybe once every few months — maybe two or three times since we started dating — and it’s always for genuine needs. I’m not out here asking for bags and shoes. I asked for help with my phone because I genuinely needed a new one. That’s it.

    Gozie: But even those few times feel like a lot to me. Maybe it’s my own issue, but I just don’t like the feeling of being asked.

    But have you both had a conversation about this?

    Amara: Yes. Multiple times. And every single time, it ends in a fight or argument because he refuses to take accountability.

    Gozie: I don’t refuse to take accountability. I just don’t think I’m entirely in the wrong here. She wants me to admit I’m being unfair, but I don’t see it that way. I believe I have the right to establish boundaries around my finances.

    Amara: Boundaries are fine. But what he’s doing isn’t setting boundaries; it’s making me feel bad for asking for help. There’s a difference. If he were taking accountability, he’d admit that he treats me differently when I ask for something versus when he offers on his own. And most importantly, he’ll agree to work on it instead of making excuses.

    Right. Gozie, do you think you treat her differently based on whether you’re offering or she’s asking?

    Gozie: Probably. I can admit that. But I also think context matters. When I offer, it’s because I’ve assessed my finances and decided I’m comfortable giving. When she asks, I haven’t had that time to prepare mentally or financially. It catches me off guard, and I react defensively.

    Amara: But that’s the thing, I  shouldn’t have to wait for you to offer. Sometimes, I have needs that come up unexpectedly. And in those moments, I should be able to turn to my boyfriend and ask for help without feeling like I’m committing a crime.

    Have you considered breaking up over this?

    Amara: I’ve thought about it. I won’t lie. But I don’t want to throw away a relationship over money. It feels shallow. There are so many other good things about us. This is just the one major issue.

    Gozie: I don’t want to break up either. I care about her. I just need her to understand where I’m coming from.

    How do you plan to navigate this issue if it keeps showing up in your relationship?

    Amara: We’ve basically just stopped talking about it. Every time we bring it up, it ends in a fight, so we avoid the topic entirely. But the problem is still there. It’s not gone just because we’re not talking about it. Every time something comes up that I need his help with, I hesitate. I calculate in my head whether I can manage on my own because I don’t want to deal with his reaction if I ask.

    Gozie: I’m trying to be more intentional, even if it’s not showing yet. I also think the amount of my resources that goes into saving for relocation just makes me get extremely cranky. But these days, I try to anticipate her needs. It makes it easier to be mentally prepared before she asks.

    Fair enough. Moving on, what’s the best thing about being with each other?

    Amara: He’s kind in other ways. He’s supportive of my career, he listens when I’m stressed, and he makes me laugh. This money thing is really the only big issue we have. Everything else is good.

    Gozie: Amara’s easy to be with. She doesn’t create unnecessary drama; she’s understanding and supports my goals. I just wish the money thing wasn’t such a big deal for her.

    Amara: It is a big deal, though. Because it’s not really about money, it’s about feeling valued and supported. 

    How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10?

    Amara: Maybe a 6. We’re good in many ways, but this issue is holding us back. I love him, but I’m worried this will continue to be a problem. If we get married and I still feel like I have to beg for help, I don’t see how that’s sustainable. I need to know I can depend on him, not just when he feels like giving, but also when I actually need him.

    Gozie: I’d say a 7. We have our challenges, but I think we’ll be fine. We just need to communicate better. Maybe I need to be more generous when she asks, and maybe she needs to ask less. Somewhere in the middle, we’ll figure it out.

     *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

    If you want to share your own Love Life story, fill out this form.

  • Trigger Warning: This article makes mention/reference to instances of self-harm and mental health struggles

    Some friendships shift the entire direction of your life. They are the friends who arrive at the exact moment you’re falling apart and manage to catch you.

    For this story, Zikoko speaks with people about the friendships that saved their lives at their lowest point. 

    From providing emotional support after heartbreak to offering free accommodation, these friends came through when they were ready to throw in the towel.

    “Our friendship has become my salvation” — Vincent*,26, M 

    Vincent met his closest friend this year because their mutual friends insisted they’d get along. When they finally connected, they hit it off instantly, and their friendship has brought him back from the edge countless times.

    “Dami* and I actually met because our mutual friends consistently kept recommending us to each other. I was initially sceptical, but one of us eventually reached out — I can’t even remember who. Our first conversation turned into a passionate two-hour debate about cinema and literature. When we finally met in person last year, it was as if we had always been friends.

    They’re still saving my life. I’ve been dealing with a lot: family issues, money problems, and some very dark moments, and they’ve pulled me back from the edge more times than I can count. I can’t pinpoint a moment that stands out because they have been instrumental in saving me from myself more times than I can count. 

    There were times this year when they could tell I was about to harm myself. They preempted it and dragged me out of the darkness each time. It might not sound dramatic enough, but to me, that’s what salvation looks like.”

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    “Every time I feel like the world is against me, she reminds me I’m not alone” — Eghosa*, 25, F

    Eghosa met Timi, a friend of her crush, and what began as a tepid relationship blossomed into a friendship that has anchored her through tough times. 

    “We met on Twitter in 2018 through my crush. They were friends, and she constantly spoke about Timi, so I thought it might be good to know her. 

    My crush and I didn’t work out in the end, but you see Timi and me? We’re locked in for life. In the beginning, I thought she didn’t like me because she hardly replied to my texts, but we got over that hump, and I realised she’s my platonic soul mate.

    In 2020, after my first relationship with a woman ended, I thought I was going to die. The heartbreak was almost too much to bear, but she called me every day and talked me down during those worst moments. Every time I felt like the whole world was against me, there she was, ready to show me it wasn’t true

    When I started my business last year and was scared that nobody would support me, she was my very first customer. She spent almost ₦100k so I could believe in myself. She wasn’t even in Nigeria at the time. Each time I felt like giving up, she’d place an order or send a message reminding me I’m supported. 

    She’s one of the best things to ever happen to me. One time, someone asked why I didn’t move to her since we’re both lesbians. But  what I feel for her is kind of spiritual; romantic love isn’t enough. My life isn’t enough. Loving her saved me and kept me alive. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

    “She housed me for eleven months when I first moved to Lagos” — Romade*, 23, F

    From an online connection to a real-life friendship, Romade shares how her friend’s intervention in her life helped set her on a positive path toward her goals.

    “We met on Twitter in 2022 and quickly became close friends. 

    At the end of 2023, I was battling post-uni exhaustion, depression and the absolute torture that was my NYSC year. My friend, whom I had never met in person, knew that I had big plans, and I just couldn’t move the needle on them. She single-handedly built me a CV from scratch and sent me opportunities from companies that offered roles I was interested in. 

    When I first moved to Lagos and was finding my feet, she housed me for 11 months. These things she did without flinching are a big part of why my life has taken a positive turn. I’m so honoured to be friends with her, and I would give her the world if I could.”

    “They created a safe space within their community for me to heal and thrive” — Cynthia*, 27, F

    Cynthia was very vulnerable after finding herself trapped in an emotionally abusive relationship and low on funds, but meeting her friend, Ayo, changed everything for the better.

    “I first connected with them on Twitter, through a random comment. Our conversations quickly blossomed into dates, allowing us to get to know each other. This past year has been incredibly challenging for me. I faced severe financial struggles and found myself in an emotionally abusive relationship that felt impossible to escape without a strategic plan. 

    During this difficult period, they stepped in and offered me both financial and emotional support. They created a safe space within their community where I could share my experiences and speak my truth. As a loner, I couldn’t have fathomed how I would’ve managed to navigate such a tough time  if I didn’t have their support. Their kindness and friendship have been a lifeline when I needed it most, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

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    “My friend group is my lifeline in the middle of mental crises” — Tiolu*, 24, F

     Tiolu shares how her friends’ intentionality about her mental health saved her from being consumed by her condition.

    “I find myself in a quartet I call my small constellation. In 2021, after a painful fallout with my old friend group, I found myself completely alone. 

    That same year, I was fighting a long-standing battle with bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. They almost swallowed me whole. I cried every day, questioned my existence, and self-harmed because it felt like the only release I had. I had even started thinking of creative ways to unalive myself. I felt alone and like I had no one to talk to. 

    But quietly, they came into my life.

    We began as a study group, with one person meeting once a week to review class material. Then it became random visits to my room and walks to class together. One person joined, then another. I honestly couldn’t tell you when the third person joined in. One day, I looked around and realised it was the four of us together.

     They’ve shown up for me so gently and consistently that I didn’t even realise I was loving being alive again. I found myself looking forward to their visits, texts, and study group to do assignments.

    Throughout that year, I was in and out of the psychiatrist’s office, exhausted from fighting and losing the fight over my own mind. On the days I couldn’t speak, they sat with me in silence. We cried together, laughed together and made very dark jokes about going together. They never got tired and never made me feel bad for being myself.

    It was the first time in a long time that I felt safe. It might’ve seemed small to them, but our silly little games kept me together. I would tell myself, ‘I promised them I’d show up, so I can’t die today.’

    I love them with all my being, every last corner of it. They became my reason to live that year, and they still are today.”

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    Here’s your next read: 5 Nigerian Men Open Up On Their Life-Changing Male Friendships

  • 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.

    Yemi*(27) and Chika*(26) met online and quickly became close friends. Despite not having met in person, they shared a deep bond.

    In this Sunken Ships, Yemi shares how their friendship of over two years fell apart due to sudden distrust, disrespect and a final lie on her birthday that made her realise their friendship was never as mutual as she thought.

    What was the moment that made you realise this friendship was sinking?

    She lied to me about sending over a birthday gift to impress a guy she was seeing. When I didn’t hear from her after that, I knew our friendship was done.

    Tell me how you guys met.

    We became close on social media. She followed me on Instagram in 2023, and she would respond to my story posts, message me about personal stuff she was going through, and I’d do the same. I was always there for her when she needed me because I saw her as a true friend.

    Did you guys ever meet up to hang out?

    Not in the beginning. We lived in different cities. I’m based in Lagos, while she lived in Rivers State with her family. When she told me she was considering moving to Lagos for her service year in 2025, I was delighted. I wanted more friends who lived close by because several of my friendships are long-distance. But our first fight before we met dampened my excitement for her to move to my city.

    What was that fight about?

    It was money-related. I lent her some money, and she ghosted me even though she knew I was unemployed at the time. That was around the time she disrespected my mum as well.

    Whoa. That’s a lot, tell me what happened?

    In March 2025, she asked to borrow some money. I didn’t have much to spare because I had just quit a stressful job and I wasn’t making an income anymore, but I felt obligated to help her because she was my friend and I’d do anything to help the people I care about. When she initially borrowed the money, she swore that she would pay me the next day. But the next day turned into a week, then a month. Two months passed, and I didn’t see my money.

    Ah. Was that the first time she burrowed money from you?

    No, for the duration of our friendship, I’d help her out with some money if she were ever in a bind and tell her to pay me back when she could. I had done that a few times, so I didn’t have any issues helping her out with a loan every now and then.

    Ah. Did you ask when she’d be able to pay you back?

    Yes, I did. After the second month had passed, I called her and asked about when she would be able to pay back, but her response was cold and vague.

    How did that make you feel?

    I thought I had just caught her at a bad time and decided I’d reach out again later.

    Okay, when was the next time you reached out?

    About two weeks later, I had run out of money because I hadn’t found another job quickly enough. I had a small business on the side, but that wasn’t going well either, and I was desperate for some income. I sent Chika a message, begging her to repay the money, as it would have helped resolve several issues I was facing at the time.

    What was her response?

    She was just as cold as before, making me feel guilty for asking for my money because she was going through a hard time as well, prepping for the three-week NYSC orientation camp. It was around this time that she stopped taking my calls completely.

    Did this make you scared that she would never pay you back?

    No, I knew she wasn’t going to run away with my money, but the delay was frustrating. In June, I needed to contribute some money to help with a household repair. I remembered Chika and gave her a call to remind her about the money. I was in my mum’s room with my sister and took the call on speaker. She was very flippant about it and ended the call quickly without stating when I should expect the money. I was cool about it as usual, but her attitude annoyed my mum and my sister.

    Did they directly get involved?

    Yes, they did, even though I expressly asked them not to.

    Why didn’t you want them to interfere?

    I thought that it made me look a bit childish that my mum would have to get involved in a disagreement I was having with a friend, so I told them to let it go and that I had it under control.

    So how did they get involved?

    Well, first my mum got curious about my friendship with Chika and started asking questions about where we met, how long we had been friends and if I had gotten my money back. This scrutiny made me call Chika again a few days later, but she didn’t pick up.

    How did this make you feel?

    I was beyond frustrated. I sent her a long message about her holding on to the money she loaned was upsetting me because she knew I was having a difficult time after quitting my old job. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the money because I saw her posting things she bought in camp on her Instagram stories, she just didn’t want to pay me back. I told her I was going to ask again and deleted her number.

    What happened after that?

    My mum asked if I had gotten my money back, and I told her to forget about it and that I would get the money from another source. My mum and sister didn’t want to let it go, though, so my sister went into my phone behind my back and took Chika’s number.

    I see, what did they do with it?

    My mum sent her some voice messages introducing herself and spoke to Chika as if she were a daughter. She told her how I was struggling and how it was unfair that she stopped taking my calls just because of a loan between friends. She urged her to reach out to me, and that was that.

    Did she call you like your mum suggested?

    Yes, but it only escalated our issues.

    How do you mean?

    She called me and angrily accused me of reporting her to my mum. It was the first time I had heard of the voice messages, so I was confused. She said that if it were the mother of a random goat that sent her those messages, she would have blocked the person, but because of our history, she only deleted my mother’s messages without listening to them. She warned me not to do it again.

    How did that make you feel?

    I was initially embarrassed because I had warned my mum and sister not to get involved. But the way Chika spoke about my mum and the fact that she didn’t even honour her with a response made me see red. She didn’t even apologise or take accountability; she was just yelling on the phone.

    So what did you do?

    I told her off sternly and asked her to pay me back my money and never to disrespect my mum or my family ever again.

    What did she do?

    She sent me back my money the next day and stopped responding to me everywhere.

    Wow, that’s cold. Did you reach out to her again?

    Yes, I did. I felt bad that we had such a nasty argument and wanted to see if we could reconcile. I gave her a call a few weeks later and asked if she had sorted her posting and accommodation in Lagos. Her reaction irritated me even more.

    What did she do?

    She didn’t respond to my message and instead put a screenshot of it on her WhatsApp status with the caption, “This one doesn’t know the kind of friend she has. Does she think I’ll come down from my high horse to apologise?”

    Omo! Did you respond to that?

    Yes, o. I immediately messaged her and scolded her for it. I thought it was wild that she would set me up for her friends to insult me without putting up the backstory of what led to our disagreement in the first place.

    How did she respond?

    She sent me a long message on Instagram apologising and asking for us to be friends again. I decided to give her one more chance, and we reconciled. Our friendship wasn’t as close as before because I found it hard to trust her, but I was willing to try again.

    Did you wax stronger after that?

    No, actually, several more small incidents increased the distance between us, but the last straw for me came on my birthday.

    What happened?

    She called me while she was visiting a guy she was seeing. She wished me a happy birthday and asked me to send her my address so she could send a gift over. I thought that was a pleasant surprise and shared my details. 

    It turned out that there was never any gift. She never followed up or shared the rider’s details. I figured out that, given her history, it was most likely that she only mentioned the gift to impress the guy she was with.

    What did you do when you came to that conclusion?

    I decided to let the friendship go. I soft-blocked her on all our social media and deleted her number. She’s toxic and an insincere person, and I can’t deal with that right now.

    Do you think you’d consider reconciling with Chika if she were to reach out?

    No, my peace of mind is very important to me, and I can’t do the mental gymnastics of constantly second-guessing if my friend is being honest with me or not.

    See what other people are saying about this article on social media.

    Hey, if you’d like to share your own #SunkenShips story with Zikoko, fill out this form!

  • Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.

    Deji* (29) and Teni* (27) have been together for three years and plan to tie the knot next year. In preparation for their wedding, they’ve been jointly saving for about two years. Recently, Deji invested a bulk of their savings into a bad deal without Teni’s knowledge. While he’s ready to bear the loss, Teni isn’t as forgiving. Now he’s stuck wondering if he has doomed their relationship.

    When you’re done reading, you’ll get to decide: Did he fuck up or not?

    This is Deji’s Dilemma, As Told To Boluwatife

    The past three years have been the most peaceful and happy I’ve been in my life. But I may have just done something to change that.

    I met Teni* at a friend’s wedding in 2022, an event I almost didn’t attend. I’d debated sleeping away my exhaustion from work over spending my precious weekend at yet another social gathering. I’m glad I eventually decided to attend.

    Teni and I shared a table at the wedding. I remember stealing glances at the beautiful lady beside me, wondering how to start up a conversation with her. My opportunity came when the ushers served food, and we both reached for the only plate of amala on the tray. 

    I gestured for her to take the food, and when she did, I joked that she’d have to repay me with pounded yam. She laughed — this soft, musical sound — and that was it. I was gone.

    We talked the entire afternoon, and I asked for her number. By the time we went on our first date a week later, it felt like we had known each other for years. 

    Everything with her was easy. Natural. Teni challenged me, supported me, and filled my life with a kind of peace I didn’t even know I needed. Early this year, I proposed at the same restaurant where we had our first date. It was perfect.

    Even before our engagement, we’ve been preparing for the life we want to build together. We always knew that we’d most likely get married in 2026. Since December 2023, we’ve been saving jointly for the wedding and our future home — both of us contributing at least 30% of our monthly income. 

    We didn’t have a savings goal; the plan was to set aside some money so we wouldn’t have to raise money again when the time came.

    Teni is a freelancer and experiences periods of high income flow, so she sometimes contributed more than 30%. For me, I already had plenty of living expenses and family responsibilities on my ₦650k salary, so I maintained my 30%. 

    We had a system that worked: I already had a mutual fund account, so we directed our savings there due to the high returns (between 18% and 20% per annum). We’d started active wedding planning right after I proposed, so we finally drew up a budget of ₦10m. We already had close to ₦5m saved, so it was a matter of raising the rest. 

    Teni handled the organisation, tracking how much we had and what we still needed, while I managed the vendors and coordinated plans. We made a great team.

    Everything changed two months ago.

    A friend told me about an importation business opportunity. The idea was to pool money to import gadgets, household decor, and fashion accessories from countries like China and sell them to wholesalers for a profit in Nigeria. 

    He swore it was legit. He told me he’d personally invested in it and showed me testimonials. I didn’t have to do the actual groundwork. I just needed to provide the capital, and I would practically make almost double my investment in a few months. It seemed like a genuine opportunity.

    I kept thinking about how much it would help with the wedding, how proud Teni would be if I suddenly eased our financial burden and had more than enough left to start our family together. It felt like a chance to be a hero.

    So, without telling her, I took out ₦3m from our joint savings and put it into it.

    The plan was to surprise her when the returns came in. I imagined telling her how I’d proactively invested our money and made double back. It was supposed to be a good thing.

    But the whole thing collapsed.

    My “friend” disappeared. When I traced him down to his family’s house, I learnt he did the same thing to a few other people to raise money to relocate out of the country. The business itself was real; he just used it as an opportunity to steal.

    Telling Teni was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. She thought I was joking at first. She was furious when she eventually realised I was serious, accusing me of “gambling with our future behind my back.”

    I tried to explain. I told her it was meant to be a surprise, that I was thinking of us. I even swore to raise the ₦3m back somehow and pay back every kobo. I honestly didn’t think it was a big deal. 

    Granted, my friend had scammed me, but it wasn’t because I misjudged a business opportunity. It was the person involved who turned out to be a snake. If all had gone well, she’d most likely be happy I took the initiative. 

    Besides, the wedding was still months away, and I could recover the money before then, even if it meant saving every naira of my salary.

    But Teni said it wasn’t about the money. It was about trust.

    For weeks now, she’s been cold and distant. She says she’s wondering if this should be a deal breaker; whether she can marry someone who would make a major decision about their shared life without even talking to her. 

    I keep telling her she’s overreacting. I didn’t cheat or lie for selfish reasons, and I didn’t do anything to hurt her on purpose. But every time I say that, she just sighs like she’s tired of explaining something I refuse to understand.

    And maybe I truly don’t understand. To me, it still feels like a mistake I can fix if she’ll just give me a chance. But to her, it feels like a betrayal.

    She hardly calls me these days, and I feel stuck in a loop. I’ve sent apologies after apologies, but a part of me feels she’s dragging this too much. Still, another part of me worries that she may have already made up her mind, and I might lose her. I’m not sure what I can do at this point.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity. 

    NEXT READ: I Went From Broke to a Net Worth of Over ₦30m in 5 Years. Here’s How I Did It

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  • When Rasheedat* (51) imagined marriage, she pictured a quiet life with one man; the kind of companionship she watched her parents enjoy for decades. She never thought she’d find herself in a polygamous home, much less as the younger wife navigating rivalry, heartbreak, and a marriage she didn’t plan for.

    In this week’s Marriage Diaries, she talks about entering polygamy against her better judgment, learning to survive a senior wife determined to frustrate her, and why love has never been enough to keep her going.

    This is a look into her marriage diary.

    Got a marriage story to share? Please fill the form and we’ll reach out.

    I used to imagine marriage as just me, my husband and our children

    Growing up, I used to think that marriage would simply be my husband and me enjoying life together. That was the kind of marriage my parents had — peaceful, united and focused on their children. For the longest time, I assumed mine would be the same.

    But after secondary school, life humbled me. I had my own share of heartbreak. My first boyfriend left me for my friend. The next guy just wanted sex. Back then, I started realising that men aren’t like my father. Many of them can be dangerous. Many don’t know what they want.

    Still, I kept imagining a future where I’d meet a man who’d be mine alone. Even when life kept showing me signs, I continued holding onto that picture. In my head, it was always “me and my husband”. But somewhere along the line, I also started preparing myself for disappointment.

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    I never expected to be a second wife, but pregnancy clouded my judgment

    Polygamy was never in my plans. If someone had told me I’d become a second wife, I would’ve sworn it could never happen.

    I met my husband at my boss’s shop. After struggling to find a good job after polytechnic, I decided to learn fashion design. Around that time, I already knew I wasn’t interested in men my age. They seemed confused about life. But I also didn’t want someone too old.

    My boss introduced me to one of her customers, a calm man in his late 30s who didn’t even look his age. We got talking, and he didn’t tell me he was married. When I eventually found out, I was furious. I told him I didn’t want to be a second wife. He kept insisting that things were bad with the first wife and they’d soon separate.

    Against my better judgment, I believed him.

    By the time I got pregnant, everything changed. He wasn’t leaving his first wife like he promised. My parents were angry and begged me not to continue, but I didn’t want to abort. I didn’t want to be someone who had multiple kids with different fathers. So, I entered the marriage with my eyes half-open, half-closed. That’s how I found myself in a polygamous home I never wanted.

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    The senior wife made the first years hell

    Those early years were tough. My senior wife didn’t welcome me at all. She frustrated me spiritually, emotionally and physically. We even fought at a family event once because she said I didn’t show her enough respect. I remember wanting to leave so many times.

    But I also didn’t want to hear “we told you so” from my parents.

    My husband tried to be fair, but he wasn’t ready for polygamy either. Anytime things got too hot between us, he would run away under the guise of work. In fact, there was a time he relocated to another state and left both of us behind because he couldn’t handle the constant tension. We didn’t let him rest until he worked his transfer back to Lagos.

    I had many moments where I questioned if I was strong enough for this life. But I didn’t tell anybody. I’d cry, wipe away my tears, and continue my day as if nothing had happened. That was how I survived.

    Everything I know about surviving polygamy, I learnt the hard way

    Nobody prepares you for the realities of polygamy. I didn’t know anything about splitting my husband’s time, navigating in-laws, managing insults or protecting myself spiritually. My mother had only experienced monogamy so she couldn’t advise me much. She helped me spiritually — giving me concoctions, prayers, and verses from the Quran — but the rest I had to learn on my own.

    I had to learn how to handle the senior wife without ruining my sanity. How to protect my children from the tension in the house. How to hold my husband’s attention without fighting. How to survive jealousy without letting it destroy me.

    One particular incident taught me a hard lesson. My husband annoyed me, so I decided to punish him by withdrawing from him. I didn’t cook, I turned him down in the bedroom, and I went completely cold. But that didn’t solve anything. He simply stopped coming home. For almost two months, he was staying at the senior wife’s house.

    That was when I knew I was the one losing. I had to change my strategy. I had to learn that in polygamy, silent treatment and withholding affection only give room for another woman to take your place. 

    We’ve had too many arguments to count, sometimes about us, but many times about things the senior wife did. There were days I felt like he didn’t defend me enough or that he favoured her. Other days, I knew all of us were just being unreasonable.

    Over the years, I’ve also learnt to pick my fights. For example, during Ramadan one year, we both insisted that he should eat sahoor in one house and iftar in the other. But it wasn’t fair. As much as we wanted to “share him equally,” he was still the one driving between both houses, working and trying to keep everyone happy.

    In moments like that, I remind myself to be human first, wife second. It helps me stay grounded.

    Polygamy made me tougher and more competitive than I ever imagined

    Marriage has changed me in ways I never expected. I didn’t know I was this competitive. Perhaps I had noticed small traces before, but polygamy brought them out fully.

    Living with a senior wife who wanted to push me out forced me to become vocal, tough and firm. People now call me “Alhaja no-nonsense” because I don’t let anybody walk over me. I speak up immediately. I stand my ground. I protect myself and my children.

    Sometimes, I miss the younger version of myself who was calm, soft and easygoing. But this life is not for the weak. If you don’t build a tough exterior, people will tear you down, especially in a polygamous home. Still, all the struggle has shaped me. I’m proud of the woman I’ve become.

    If there’s one thing I tell my daughters every day, it’s that polygamy is not for them. Even though it isn’t as common with their generation, I still warn them: don’t ever agree to it.

    If I could go back in time, maybe I’d have aborted that pregnancy. Maybe I wouldn’t be here.

    But life happened, and I’m grateful for my first child; he’s doing very well now. And even though my senior wife and I will never be best friends, things are much better. We’ve both mellowed with age. She enjoys her corner. I enjoy mine. Our husband tries his best.

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    Love comes and goes, but patience is what has kept my marriage

    If I’m being honest, love has never been enough for this marriage. Yes, I love my husband, but that love fluctuates depending on what is happening. Love doesn’t solve the battles, the jealousy, it doesn’t remove senior wife drama. Love doesn’t help you navigate spiritual attacks, family politics or shared attention.

    If you ask me what has kept this marriage together, I’ll tell you that it’s patience and understanding, long before love. Love is something that comes and goes. But patience is the real backbone of marriage.

     *Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

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