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

    Nairalife #288 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    That was in 2010. I didn’t really understand what money could do and how it felt to earn it before that time.  

    What changed?

    So, I was in my second year and my uni was organising a rag day — it’s an event where students dress funny and go out to make money. I didn’t participate because it wasn’t my thing, but I helped a friend with their costume and jokingly requested a percentage of whatever money was made. 

    My friend got a lot of money almost as quickly as they went outside. When my other colleagues saw that, they rushed to me and asked me to help with their costumes. After the whole thing, they returned and gave me a cut of their earnings — ₦2k here, ₦1k there. I don’t remember exactly how much I made, but it was cool cash for simply exploring my creativity.

    It was also the first time I held money that hadn’t passed through my parents’ strict approval process for financial matters.

    Tell me about your parents

    My parents were teachers and were very strict. They believed that letting children have money could lead them to vices. They were right, sha. In secondary school, I had friends who gambled among each other, but I couldn’t join because I didn’t even have as little as ₦5 on me — my siblings and I took lunch to school, so there was no reason to handle money. 

    Also, if a family member gave me money, I was meant to immediately hand it over to my parents, who decided what to do with it. If my mum saw a pencil she didn’t buy in my bag, all hell would let loose.

    I can trace my lack of a savings culture to my upbringing. Imagine me trying to save as a child. With which money? Even if I miraculously found money, how was I supposed to explain keeping it? My parents controlled everything in our house, which followed me until that point in university when I finally did something independently. 

    Did you try something else to make money after that?

    Yes. But I just pursued a passion and ended up getting paid for it. I loved organising tutorials for colleagues in uni, and one time in my third year, a friend asked if I could cover for her at work because she was writing exams.

    She worked at a company that connected tutors to parents who wanted after-school lessons for their kids. So, while my friend was away, I tutored her client’s kid. When she returned after two weeks, the child’s parents called the company and asked to retain me for their child while my friend taught someone else.

    They liked you that much?

    Apparently, they did. The company employed me and paid me ₦20k/month to teach the child thrice a week. About a month later, I got a different gig through a senior colleague to teach maths and physics to someone preparing for WAEC. 

    Then, I got another referral from the same senior colleague. I juggled the three clients until my final year and made about ₦70k/month from all of them. In my final year, I had to scale back down to one client —the one paying ₦20k — because I wanted to focus on my studies and pass well. I’d been an unserious student for most of uni, and final year was my last chance.

    Thankfully, I graduated with good grades and held the job for a few more months until I landed a new one in 2013. The new job was in health and safety, which aligned with what I studied in school, so I dropped the teaching gig to focus on my new role.

    Was the pay better?

    Haha. My salary was ₦5k/month. It was a serious pay cut, but I wanted professional experience. I lived with some friends and didn’t have to worry about rent. The ₦5k covered my transportation for only 2-3 weeks, and I had to rely on my friends for transport fare.

    I supplemented my salary with occasional tutoring gigs — I got one in 2014 that paid ₦60k/week for a two-month period. 

    Fortunately, I landed a similar role at a non-profit in 2016. My starting salary was ₦60k/month, but it got up to about ₦100k after transportation allowance and other incentives.

    A welcome relief from ₦5k/month, I imagine

    It was. However, my lifestyle didn’t change much. I had free accommodation courtesy of my job. I’m not social, and I’d grown used to living on very little income, so there was almost nothing for me to spend on.

    That said, I began giving out money. I like helping people, and since I wasn’t doing anything with money, I was using it to meet people’s needs — especially friends and family. If someone complained about a need on WhatsApp, I’d DM them and send them money.

    About six months into the job, my salary increased to ₦80k. My need to travel for official duty also increased, and the allowances from travelling and field work brought my monthly income to ₦200k.

    Did you consider savings or investments?

    I didn’t grow up with a savings culture, so it wasn’t the first thing that came to my head. So, even though I was earning more than I ever had, I was always broke before month’s end.

    In 2017, my mum noticed my terrible spending habits. She’d asked me for ₦50k, and I ended up sending ₦100k. She also learned from my siblings that I always gave extra money whenever they asked, so she called and told me it was time for me to learn how to save for a rainy day.

    My mum opened a cooperative account in my name and asked me to decide on a monthly deposit I was comfortable with. I decided on ₦100k, and from then, I just sent the money to her monthly to help me save it. 

    I didn’t have access to it and had no desire to keep track of whatever I sent to her. My own was: They’ve told me it’s good to keep money, so let me just keep it. I didn’t have a goal.

    I’m screaming

    I worked at the non-profit till 2019, and my income grew to about ₦400k/month before I left.

    Around the same time, my mum suggested I invest my cooperative savings in a landed property. Honestly, I was fine with just keeping it, but she advised against saving indefinitely. 

    So, I used most of the money — about ₦3m — to buy seven acres of land. The first day I stood on the land, I thought, “Hey, maybe investments aren’t so bad.” Like, I couldn’t see the end of the entire property, and it was all mine.

    I farmed plantains on the land for about two years and made some profit, but I stopped because I struggled to juggle it with other responsibilities. Plus, I didn’t buy the land to farm. The goal is to build an estate on it someday. 

    I was just about to ask if you left the non-profit for farming 

    I left because I wanted to get a master’s degree, but my workplace didn’t let me. I even suggested a part-time study program, but they were against it. I decided that it was better to upskill than hold on to a job that could kick me to the curb, so I resigned and became a freelance consultant. I also stopped saving with the cooperative since I no longer had a consistent income.

    Did you have a plan for school expenses with an inconsistent income?

    I have contacts in the non-profit sector. I knew I’d still get something every other month. The only thing was, I couldn’t predict what my income would be. With consulting, you can make ₦200k today and ₦2m tomorrow. 

    I planned to freelance for only two years. After my master’s program, I’d re-strategise and return to an office job. Unfortunately, the pandemic happened and disrupted my academic calendar. Even after schools reopened, ASUU went on an eight-month strike, essentially wasting the whole of 2022. 

    I finished the program this year, so I’ve been a freelance consultant for longer than I planned. Fortunately, I get consulting gigs fairly regularly, so I survive. I also got married in 2021, and while that has increased my responsibilities, it’s also helped me manage the reality of having an inconsistent income.

    How so?

    We’ve already established I’m a spontaneous giver. I can’t stand seeing people in need and looking away. I could get away with that on a monthly salary, but consulting is different. If I make ₦1.2m today, I can’t just blow it because I don’t know if I’ll earn anything for the next few months.

    It requires extensive financial planning, which isn’t my strength. After I got married, my wife and I decided it was best that she controlled my finances, and we’ve stuck with that. I don’t have access to my accounts or know how much I’m worth, and it works well for us.

    Also, I believe that men having extramarital affairs is directly proportional to them having money. With the way I spend, I know having money might be a tempting factor to go that route, and I don’t want it. There’s no way to have a woman on the side if you don’t have a kobo to your name, and I’m fine with that.

    I’m curious. How does the financial arrangement with your wife work?

    My wife has all my bank apps on her phone, and she also receives the SMS alerts. I don’t get alerts, and I don’t have an ATM card either. I have zero access to my funds. Whenever I get paid for a job, she’s the one who tells me that money has entered my account.

    She allocates the funds to whatever need we have at the moment. She also ensures there’s still money to run the home and attend to family emergencies in the months I don’t earn anything. She even buys me clothes or whatever she thinks I need. If I need money to repair the car, for instance, I call her, and she transfers money to the mechanic. 

    So, you don’t hold cash at all?

    Nope. Sometimes, my wife puts money in one of the ATM cards if I want to buy something. But it’s always the exact amount because we both know I can still dash the extra cash to a random groundnut seller on the road.

    I should mention that no one knows about my wife controlling my finances — not even my family. I know people would think it strange, so we keep it to ourselves. 

    Have there been any challenges with this arrangement?

    The only challenge is that it’s quite difficult to make a transaction my wife disapproves of. For instance, I could ask her to transfer ₦150k to someone who needs a new phone. 

    Of course, she’ll query it, and if she doesn’t think the reason is good enough, she tells me we can’t do it or suggests a smaller amount. Sometimes, I try to defend my reason. Other times, I don’t push it. 

    I’d like to know how someone like you thinks about money

    Money provides one of the easiest means to help people. I hate seeing people in need and looking away. 

    Right now, I’m looking forward to bigger consulting jobs and businesses, and it’s majorly because I want to be able to confidently ask my wife to increase our giving budget. 

    At least I’ve accepted that I’m a reckless spender, and I don’t mind that my spending is on those who need help.

    So, how do you move money around these days?

    I work from home most days, and with my wife handling the majority of the household’s needs, my spending oversight is limited to fueling the car, electricity, and monthly allowances.

    Let me break it down:

    Nairalife #288 monthly expenses

    Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

    Solar electricity to increase my efficiency. My house is also my office, and the epileptic power situation in Nigeria is so crazy. The last time I checked, I’d need about ₦1m for a small solar system to power my office. To power the entire building, I’d need about ₦4m. According to my wife, we can’t afford either right now. 

    What was the last thing you bought that significantly improved your quality of life?

    My laptop, which I bought for about ₦1.4m earlier this year. It comes with a smart pen, and for someone like me who does a lot of pitching, it’s so easy to pictorially represent a concept or solution I’m trying to proffer to clients. The laptop just has a lot of crazy features that make brainstorming seamless.

    Is there anything you’d like to be better at financially?

    I’m currently working on diversifying my income, considering that Nigeria’s economy isn’t smiling anymore. I can put on many hats, and I just need to figure out which skill I can utilise to get another income source to stabilise my finances. 

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

    I’d like to split that into two: income and spending. My income rating is 5 because I still need to get more income sources. 

    My spending rating is 2 because of my poor spending habits. I’ll rate it higher when I learn how to handle my spontaneous spending, or better still, earn enough so I can spend spontaneously and not feel it.

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

    Yes, I want to do a Naira Life!

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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  • Flowers are trending on Obasanjo’s internet, and it’s not because Madam First Lady harvested them from her efo tete farm in Abuja.

    Apparently, if a man has never thought to buy you flowers, some people online believe he probably doesn’t know how to do romance properly. Anyway, on this fine Saturday afternoon, I made it my business to ask these Nigerian women what they think of flowers. Here’s what they had to say. 

    Chinwe*

    I’ve never received flowers. It would be nice to experience what I see in movies, but it’s not a deal breaker if I don’t get them from a partner. I prefer handwritten notes and text messages at special moments, as well as kind gestures that reassure me of his love.

    Bimpe*

    Honestly, I have mixed feelings. I once got a bouquet from a friend, and I don’t know if it was the flowers or whatever they sprayed on them, but I ended up with red bumps on my face. Now, when I get them, I keep my distance. If you’re a potential lover, I’ll tell you upfront that I’m not keen on them.

    Abibat*

    Please, take them away from me. I’ve never seen the point since the flowers will die in a few days. I’m a sentimental person. I’d rather have something I can hold on to for longer—something that’ll remind me of you when we’re thousands of miles apart.

    Chinaza*

    I used to like flowers until I heard how much they cost. Please find a garden and pluck as many as you want, but don’t spend ₦500k on a bouquet that’ll wilt in a few days. Give me the money, or better still, spend it on an experience I’ll cherish.

    Hauwa*

    I’d always appreciate a gift of flowers. It’s sweet, and there are ways to utilize the leaves after they wilt. If the flowers are roses, you can make rose water from them. But if I had to choose, I’d pick a proper gift. Flowers shouldn’t be the whole gift; they can be add-ons given as a thoughtful gesture when it’s not a special occasion.

    [ad]

    Dara*

    I’d prefer a money bouquet. But if the flowers come with other gifts, that’s fine too. To me, flowers represent love and affection, but yes, throw in something that’ll make me think of you when you’re out of sight.

    Chinwe*

    Yes, please! I sometimes buy flowers for myself, so why not from a lover? Send me flowers when you’re thinking of me, when I’m celebrating a milestone, when I’m not feeling well, or just because. I’m a flower girly all day, every day.

    Temi*

    I think flowers are symbolic and beautiful. I get one from my partner every month. Each flower has meaning, so it’s a thoughtful way of expressing love. Only those who understand these nuances will see flowers as a love language.

    Read this next: 6 Gifts Your Nigerian Girlfriend Definitely Wants You To Buy

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

    What’s your earliest memory of each other?

    Muyiwa: I remember seeing her at a friend’s party in late 2022. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, standing out from everyone else. I didn’t approach her that night because I thought, “This babe is way out of my league.” 

    But we ran into each other again at a work event and I finally worked up the courage to talk to her.

    Banke: I don’t remember him from this friend’s party. When we met at the other event, I liked that he wasn’t trying too hard to impress anyone; he was just comfortable in his skin. That kind of quiet confidence is rare, especially in men around here who feel the need to overcompensate. 

    What made you like each other?

    Banke: I was tired of the typical Nigerian guys who think they have to show off their money or connections. Muyiwa didn’t even try to flirt with me when we first talked, which made me curious. I guess I liked the idea of a man who didn’t need to prove anything.

    But honestly, if you’d told me then that we’d end up together with a kid months later, I would’ve laughed it off.

    Muyiwa: What really drew me to her when we first spoke was her drive about her work.

    But it wasn’t just her ambition. When we started talking more, I saw this vulnerable, soft side she didn’t show to many people. It made me want to protect her, even though she didn’t need protecting. I liked that she could be this powerhouse at work but still have moments when she let her guard down with me, even early on when I thought we’d be just friends.

    So how did this friendship turn into a relationship?

    Muyiwa: We exchanged numbers, but we didn’t rush into anything. We’d text occasionally, mostly just small talk, nothing serious. It wasn’t until about three weeks later that things really kicked off. We ran into each other at another mutual friend’s birthday party. 

    Banke: We ended up talking for hours about life, work, family. That was when I felt like I really got to know him. What I liked about him after that was how he listened. I’ve met a lot of guys who pretend to be interested in what you’re saying, but you can tell their mind is somewhere else. 

    With Muyiwa, he was genuinely engaged. He asked thoughtful questions, remembered little details, and wasn’t intimidated by me.

    Muyiwa: What pushed us closer was this one conversation where she mentioned how exhausting it was being a woman in her field. She was dealing with a lot of pressure, trying to prove herself in a male-dominated industry. I remember telling her she didn’t have to be “on” all the time with me, that she could just be herself. 

    The way she looked at me for a while then smiled, I just knew I wanted her to be my girlfriend.

    Did you ask her immediately?

    Muyiwa: No, I waited till we spoke on the phone that night. We started dating not long after that because she had to think about it. But we were just going with the flow. Neither of us was thinking too far ahead. 

    Banke: Then, a few months in, I was pregnant. That changed everything. 

    So there was already sex involved in the flow?

    Banke: Yes, but we weren’t prepared for this. I wanted to keep the baby, but it didn’t stop me from freaking out. Marriage was the obvious next step, but something about rushing into it didn’t feel right to either of us. 

    I was at a point in my career where things were really taking off, and the timing just felt all wrong. But after the initial panic, Muyiwa was the one who calmed me down. He said we’d figure it out together, which gave me some peace of mind.

    Muyiwa: At that point, I had a really good job. I assumed I’d keep working, and we’d somehow juggle everything. But a few months after our daughter was born, I got laid off during a company downsizing. 

    Banke: I was still on maternity leave, and we were suddenly living off my savings and his severance pay. We had to make some quick decisions. The job market was rough, and with a newborn at home, we needed one of us to be with her full-time. 

    I went back to work, and Muyiwa kind of fell into the role of primary caregiver.

    Wait, a lot happened so fast. Why does it sound like these decisions came easy to you?

    Muyiwa: It was chaotic, and nothing about those decisions was easy. 

    When Banke told me she was pregnant, we weren’t even half a year into the relationship, and suddenly, we were talking about raising a child together. We didn’t have a solid plan; we were just trying to keep our heads above water. There were arguments—plenty of them. I was under so much pressure to step up and be the provider, but for whatever reason, finding another job in the middle of all that didn’t happen.

    Banke: I’d just gotten a promotion at work before I discovered the pregnancy, and suddenly, I was facing this huge life change. My friends, even my mum, advised an abortion. But when I talked to Muyiwa about it, he was clear about how he felt. He wanted to keep the baby, and honestly, his determination affected me. He had this sense of commitment that made me rethink my own stance.

    What made you so sure at the time, Muyiwa?

    Muyiwa: I grew up with traditional values, and part of me felt we had a responsibility to give our child a chance. I knew I had to support her in whatever decision she made, but I also wanted to make it clear that I was in this fully. I think deep down, we both felt a sense of duty and connection that made us lean towards keeping the baby.

    Banke: It wasn’t just about what Muyiwa wanted; the idea of going through with an abortion wasn’t something I took lightly. It felt like it would leave a permanent mark on me psychologically. I also worried about how it might affect my relationship with Muyiwa. I didn’t want us to have that kind of conflict or regret hanging over us.

    When did the idea of moving in together come in?

    Muyiwa: It started with the fact that she lived with housemates because her family is still back in Nigeria. 

    When she was around six months pregnant, the reality of managing everything—like doctor’s appointments, preparing for the baby, and just everyday life—started to hit us. She was still working, and we realised that juggling everything from two different places was becoming impractical. 

    One evening, after a particularly stressful day of trying to balance all the errands, we had a serious conversation about our situation. I brought up the idea of moving in together, mostly because it seemed like the most practical solution. 

    Banke: He really wanted us to support each other more directly. He wanted to be more involved in our baby’s life without the added stress of commuting or coordinating visits. 

    It wasn’t exactly a romantic decision. We didn’t really have the luxury of taking our time to make it a “big” decision with all the planning and excitement of a typical move-in. It was more about getting things done and setting up a home base where we could both be present for our daughter.

    Why does it sound like you were more focused on being parents than being a couple?

    Banke: Actually, that’s what it was like for some time. Our relationship still feels a lot more domestic than romantic today, but it’s become a healthy balance.

    I was initially hesitant because moving in together before marriage felt unconventional, and I was worried about how it would look to our families and friends. But as Muyiwa said, the timing and circumstances forced our hand. We needed to make it work for the sake of the baby and our own sanity. 

    Muyiwa: I also wanted her to move from her apartment she shared with housemates. We started looking for somewhere that was reasonably close to where she worked so she wouldn’t have to commute too far, and that had enough space for a growing family. It was a whirlwind of decisions—finding a place, moving, and setting up a nursery—all while managing work and the stress of impending parenthood. 

    I remember constantly thinking, “Is this really how we’re starting our family?” This was before I lost my job and things became a lot tougher.

    Tell me about that

    Banke: It was like the ground fell out from under us. I was trying to recover from childbirth, and now, we had to figure out how to keep our lives together with one income.

    Muyiwa: After I got laid off, I felt like a failure—especially after encouraging us to keep the baby, and then, move into a bigger apartment on a good side of town. I couldn’t even tell Banke right away because I was embarrassed. When I finally did, I could see the worry on her face, but she didn’t freak out. Instead, she just asked, “What do we do now?” 

    What did you do?

    Muyiwa: I was job-hunting for a while. In the meantime, I stayed home on baby duties so we could save on daycare and nannies.

    Banke: His mum was able to stay with us for the first month, but we were on our own after. So we kind of fell into the pattern of him staying home and handling chores. 

    Muyiwa: It wasn’t easy for me to accept that she’d be the one going back to work while I stayed home. In our society, that’s not what’s expected of a man, and I struggled with it. But we had to make a decision quickly because we had a baby to take care of. There wasn’t time to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves.

    I can imagine this affected your relationship even further?

    Banke: We argued a lot during that time. I was a little resentful—why did I have to have so much responsibility now, right when my career was taking off? And I know Muyiwa felt guilty about losing his job. There was this tension between us, like we were trying to hold on to some sense of normalcy, but everything was changing so fast. 

    Muyiwa: We didn’t sit down and calmly discuss our options; it was more like we were reacting to each crisis as it came. I think we just made the decisions we had to make to survive, even if it meant turning everything we knew about relationships on its head.

    Banke: And even now, it’s not always smooth sailing. There are days when I feel the weight of being the breadwinner, and days when Muyiwa struggles with not fitting into that traditional male role. We’re still figuring it out as we go, and it’s far from perfect.

    So you decided to stick to this dynamic longterm?

    Muyiwa: As our daughter grew, I realised that being at home allowed me to build a strong bond with her, which is something I couldn’t trade for anything. It’s not just about taking care of a baby; it’s about being present, involved, and providing a stable environment for her to grow up in.

    Banke’s career is doing so well. I’d never ask her to give that up so our daughter can have a present parent. I decided to take that up myself.

    Banke: When Muyiwa first took on the stay-at-home role, I felt relieved because it meant one less thing for me to worry about. I could focus on my job and provide for our family without having to juggle everything on my own. 

    Sounds like a “but” is coming…

    Banke: But there’s a part of me that feels guilty for being the primary breadwinner. I know it sounds strange, but I’ve had to confront my own insecurities about being the one who’s “bringing home the bacon”. There’s a lot of judgement about women who out-earn their partners. 

    Muyiwa: But I contribute. I still have freelance and side gigs, but the focus is no longer on chasing a full-time role.

    Banke: I also sometimes feel that his role as a stay-at-home dad is undervalued by others, and that affects how I see our situation. I worry about him feeling sidelined or less important when his role is crucial to our family’s well-being. It’s hard not to feel that there’s a stigma attached to it, both from society and within ourselves.

    [ad]

    What pushbacks have you experienced from society so far?

    Muyiwa: Oh, there have been quite a few. 

    One specific scenario that stands out is a family wedding we attended a few months back. I was there with Banke, and we were discussing our daughter’s milestones. My uncle, who’s always been a traditionalist, asked me directly, “So, what are you doing with yourself now? Still at home?” 

    It wasn’t just the question; it was the tone—almost like he was questioning my manhood. It was uncomfortable, and I felt this wave of embarrassment. I could see Banke getting angry, and she tried to deflect the conversation, but the damage was done. 

    Banke: During a meeting at work early this year, a colleague asked about my family. When I mentioned that Muyiwa was at home taking care of our daughter, their reaction was almost comical in its disbelief. They couldn’t understand why I was the one working while my partner stayed home. 

    The questions started rolling in—“Isn’t he trying to find a job?” or “How do you manage with him not working?” It felt like people were looking for a reason to justify our arrangement, as if it couldn’t possibly be a legitimate choice.

    Muyiwa: Then there’s the more subtle stuff, like when people make offhand comments about how “nice” it must be for me to not have to work. It’s this kind of dismissive attitude that implies my role is somehow less valuable because it doesn’t come with a paycheck. 

    I’ve also encountered some judgement from friends who’ve expressed surprise that I’m “okay” with being a stay-at-home dad. They often assume there’s something wrong or that I’m not ambitious, which couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s a strange kind of scrutiny that’s hard to explain.

    People don’t like “different”

    Banke: I think it’s also a thing where this generation only glorifies capitalism. Anything slightly domestic is always looked down on because, trust me, if I was the one as a woman staying home, they’d still say my husband is squashing my potential. 

    Muyiwa: Meanwhile, it’s kind of a privilege for us to be able to afford to prioritise our daughter this way.

    Actually

    Banke: There was this time I ran into an old friend from university. She knew about my career success but was shocked to hear that Muyiwa was at home. And she asked if everything was okay at home. The judgement is often veiled in concern.

    Muyiwa: There’s a lot of subtle but pervasive pressure to fit into a mould, and it’s exhausting to constantly navigate those expectations while trying to make the best decisions for our family. Because this actually works great for all three of us; we’re actually fine.

    What are the biggest challenges you’ve faced since settling into this dynamic?

    Banke: Beyond the constant need to justify our arrangement or prove that it’s working well, there’s the juggling act of managing my career, being present for our daughter as well, and supporting Muyiwa emotionally.

    Muyiwa: Another challenge is dealing with the impact on our relationship. 

    Banke: Oh yes. 

    Let’s talk about that

    Banke: There are days when I come home from work and feel like I’m expected to pick up where Muyiwa left off, even though I’m exhausted. It’s also tough to find a balance between being supportive and not falling into a role where I feel like I’m doing everything. 

    It’s a constant negotiation of who does what and ensuring that both of us feel valued and understood.

    Muyiwa: There’s also navigating our parents’ reactions and dealing with their constant questions about marriage, when we’re going to have our second kid…

    Exactly what my next question was. What’s the plan for these things now that things have seemingly settled?

    Muyiwa: We’ve discussed marriage as something we’d like to do eventually, not just for ourselves but also for our daughter’s sense of stability. However, we want to make sure that when we do get married, it’s because we’re ready and not just trying to meet societal expectations.

    Banke: We’ve seen too many couples rush into marriage for the wrong reasons, and we want to avoid that. We didn’t quite get the chance to be ready for that when our little girl came into the picture. We’re more focused on building a strong foundation for our family and making sure that when we do decide to marry, it’s not just because of her.

    So no expanding the family right now, I guess

    Banke: No, and we’ve been very careful with precautions! 

    We’ve talked about it, but we’re also trying to stabilise our situation and make sure we’re both in a good place before considering adding another member to our family. We want to be sure that we can give any future children the attention and resources they deserve, just like our daughter, without stretching ourselves too thin.

    Muyiwa: I mean, we’re still adjusting to our current dynamic; adding another child would be a big decision most likely for after marriage.

    What was your first major fight about?

    Muyiwa: We haven’t had any major fights.

    Banke: Neither of us has the personality for a blown-out fight. We’re much too level-headed.

    Muyiwa: But we’ve had our share of arguments, especially when we’re both exhausted after a long day. We have to remind ourselves that this is a work in progress, and we’re both learning how to make this work.

    Banke: Despite all that, I do appreciate what Muyiwa brings to our family. He’s been amazing with our daughter, and seeing the bond they share makes me realise that this arrangement is so beneficial.

    On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

    Muyiwa: 4. Do I love her? Yes. Do I love where our intimacy is at right now? Not at all.

    Banke: I’d rate it around a 5. There are definitely aspects of our love life we’re struggling with, but there’s still a foundation of love, effort and mutual respect I find invaluable.

    ANOTHER ONE: We Strongly Believe in Different Religions 

  • Music director TG Omori recently shared that his only brother donated a kidney to him so that “he could live again.” 

    This made me curious about how far people will go for those they consider family. So, I asked these Nigerians to share their biggest sacrifices for loved ones.

    Image by freepik

    Mulikat*

    My biggest sacrifice is sponsoring three of my younger siblings through university.

    My parents have been retired for a while and no longer earn enough to afford to send three children to university. The first of the three gained admission while I was serving, so a portion of my monthly NYSC allowance and salary went into paying her tuition and covering hostel rent, among other things. I have two older siblings who also chip in—it’s a joint arrangement between all of us.

    One of them graduated last year, but the other two gained admission this year, so we still have about three years to go. A large chunk of my salary goes into catering for them, and while it’s inconvenient, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

    On random days, when I think about what I’ve done to make life more meaningful for someone else, I remind myself that I sent three siblings to university.

    Raheemat*

    My sister and her three kids left her husband in 2014. The man was physically abusive and dabbled in all sorts of fetish practices that scared her. One day, she called me crying saying she was worried and didn’t know what to do with her life anymore. She’d stopped working to care for her three kids, so she had no savings and was entirely dependent on her husband.

    At the time, I stayed in a mini-flat with my husband and son, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing my sister go through so much pain. I spoke with my husband, who was worried about what it would mean to bring four more people into our house. I convinced him they’d manage, which was how they joined us.

    She and her children stayed with us for three years, and while I don’t like to think about it, I believe that commitment set me back financially. Helping with school fees and feeding all of them was a lot. She’s in a much better place now, and now and then, she says, “I can never forget what you did for me.”

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    David*

    My dad resigned because he wanted to contest for a political post, so only my mum was working and helping with the bills. I got admitted to university in 2018, but my mum had no money to process my admission, so she sold her car. She hasn’t gotten a car since then, but I’m done with school. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I plan to set up an automobile business for her in the future.

    Afeez*

    I don’t keep track of what I do for those I consider family, but I’d say the biggest lifelong sacrifice I’ve made is caring for my late sister’s children.

    After she died in 2018, her husband tried to get custody of the kids, but I put up strong reservations. The man is a polygamist, and there’s no peaceful relationship between his wives. He saw reason for my concerns, and we agreed I’d take full custody of the kids while he handled his responsibilities as their dad.

    It’s been six years, and I can’t say he’s fully kept his promises. But I’ve cared for the kids just like they’re my own. I don’t go around saying they’re my late sister’s children; I simply claim them as mine. Thankfully, my wife and sister had a good relationship before she passed, so my wife has also taken them as her own.

    Ayodele

    I withdrew 80% of my life savings to support my brother’s japa dreams.

    No one in my family had ever left the shores of Nigeria. It’s not that people haven’t tried or gotten close, but money has always been the problem. My younger brother gained admission to a UK university in 2022. He’d been running the whole thing alone and only told me when he was about to defer because he couldn’t make the deposit payment.

    I wasn’t having it. I told him we would do whatever it took, including emptying my life savings for him. I transferred ₦7 million of the ₦9 million I had saved. I told him I’d survive on whatever I had left until he could start paying me back when he was fully settled abroad. It wasn’t an easy decision at the time—my mind was filled with “what if” questions, but I shut them all down. Today, I’m glad I made that call. My brother has paid everything back and even added extra. But above all, it’s rewarding to know that he understands how much I’m willing to sacrifice for him.

    Read this next: I Feel Like a Failure for Not Starting a Family Sooner

  • Have you ever received relationship advice from or consulted your wise friends and family for counsel on matters of the heart? These Nigerians share how that went for them.

    Chude, 26

    I often asked a long-time friend out, but she declined because of my “player” reputation. At some point, I decided to let go and move on.

    I started dating a new girl, and I liked her. Four months into my new relationship, I got a text from my long-time friend asking if she could still be my girlfriend. I was amazed by the text, and my reaction got my best friend’s attention from where I was seated in the house.

    He already knew the story and how much I was invested in my new relationship, but he advised me to cheat on my girlfriend anyway. I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but I induced anyway.

    I started dating my longtime friend while I had a girlfriend. When my girlfriend found out I was cheating, she called it off immediately. Still getting high off my friend’s bad advice, I wasn’t bothered a bit, mainly because I had another girl I always wanted. Then, one day, eight months into the new relationship, my new babe said she wasn’t interested in “whatever we call it” again. She said I didn’t offend her, and I did nothing. She was done and over it. I wasn’t too pained until I saw this babe’s engagement photos on her WhatsApp status. She didn’t even block me from her line or WhatsApp. I was confused and sad af. Her carefree attitude left me broken for so long that I avoided women and started referencing that babe as the greatest “player”.

    Both babes are married now, and I wish I hadn’t hurt the first one who wanted to be with me.

    Adebimpe*, 26

    I’m seven months into a relationship with my boyfriend, who lost his job two months after we began dating. He took every test and interview, but nothing came up. The whole thing stressed him out, and he always complained about it until I grew tired.

    I mentioned his job issue to a mutual friend, who told me to focus on other men with money who wouldn’t slow me down. As my boyfriend’s frustration grew, I also grew tired of his nagging. I grew a little apart from him and slowly opened up to responding to DMs from some of the other guys I usually ignored. My man got a job now, but he also found out that I’ve been talking to other guys. I have explained several times that I wasn’t cheating on him and hadn’t gone out with anyone, but he’s so mad at me, and I love him.

    Isaac*, 33

    My family told me, “Marry with the little you have.”

    I wish I hadn’t taken the advice, but I was also eager to get married because I didn’t like prolonged relationships. That was a big mistake.

    Now, I’ve realised that marriages can’t survive without financial support. Money shouldn’t be the main focus, but it becomes the only focus if you don’t have it. No woman wants a broke man. I’m not proud to say this, but I’m lucky to have my wife because she’s a good survivalist.

    There’s been little financial change since we married two years ago, but I hope it improves. No one should take advice like this; it doesn’t work for everyone.

    Ayo, 28

    My ex-girlfriend and I had issues in 2017. We’d go like two days without talking, then I’d apologise, and we’d get back together. One time, I decided I wouldn’t apologise first. Days passed, and we didn’t speak, so I got worried and asked a female friend for advice.

    “All you need to do is make her jealous, and she’ll come around,” she said. So, my friend took it further (with my knowledge) and texted SubDeliveryMan, saying she had a crush on me. I stupidly commented that the “anon” person should DM me. My girlfriend saw the viral SDM tweet and sent it to me with a “What’s this???” question, and she was mad that I was flirting with other babes. I came clean and explained that I was just trying to make her jealous, but she wasn’t having it. She almost fought and publicly called out my friend.

    The situation irritated her a lot, and it ended our relationship. I thought I did something grand to fight for my love. But to be honest, after it ended, I realised what a big fool I was for descending that low to make my ex jealous and “rush” me. She dislikes my friend to this day.

    Onome*, 29

    When my ex first cheated on me in my last relationship, I thought I loved him so much, and I could change him. So, I didn’t dwell on it much and let the issue slide because of the advice from some friends that all men cheat, and every partner is just managing them and their relationships.

    The cheating hurt me, but I overlooked it despite my family’s advice to leave the guy. But I didn’t want to let go because of my age and the four years already spent in the relationship. Then, the second cheating situation, which made me end the relationship, happened. Another babe messaged me to tell me she was his “real” girlfriend and that I was wasting my time. I felt helpless and tired. But it was that relationship that radicalised me. Now, I don’t care how much I love you; I’d be ready to let you go if I catch any whiff of cheating. God forbid bad things again.

    My cousin told me that the wasted four years is better than a wasted forever, and that was all I needed to hear. I wish I hadn’t overlooked the cheating the first time, and I let him go asap. Just maybe it’d have been less humiliating than the way the breakup eventually happened.

  • Janet* (28) first met her long-term best friend, Jesse*, when she was 13. She talks about their 15-year friendship, people mistaking their closeness for romance and why she doesn’t want to date Jesse.

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Freepik AI

    My best friend, Jesse*, has been the one constant in my life for the past 15 years. It’s funny how I initially hated him.

    We met in 2009 when we were in JSS 3 at the same secondary school. Jesse joined my class in the middle of the second term as a transfer student, and I remember thinking, “Who joins a new class halfway through the school year?”

    We got talking when Jesse inevitably fell behind on most of the subjects. He had weeks and weeks of notes to write, so he came to my seat to ask me for my English notes. Apparently, other students had told him I kept the most detailed notes, so I was the obvious choice.

    I lent him the note, but Jesse lost it after two days. To make matters worse, he didn’t tell me because he was scared of how I’d react. He came up with excuses whenever I asked for the note and only came clean when it was three weeks to exams. 

    Of course, I was angry. I reported Jesse to a teacher who punished and directed him to rewrite my note from scratch. He wrote the note and even stuck an apology card inside. I was still angry with him, so I tore the card into pieces and dropped it on his desk.

    But Jesse didn’t mind my reaction. It was as if my anger only made him more determined to make me smile. Every day, he’d stop by my desk to tell me a joke or present me with snacks. On my part, I thought he was an unserious fellow who joked too much, and I’m not sure why, but I just hated his guts.

    He started to wear me down towards the end of third term, and I began to look forward to his “disturbance”. Then, when we resumed SS 1, we found each other in the same science class and immediately became fast friends. 

    Ironically, Jesse’s parents moved to a new house in my neighbourhood that same year, which made Jesse and me even closer. 

    Every morning, Jesse would walk down to my house to wait for me to get ready, so we’d walk to school together. The distance from my house to our school was about 30 minutes on foot, but rather than take a bus, Jesse and I chose to walk and gist all the way.

    When we got to school, we used our transport money to buy Ghana buns to share over lunch break. After school, we’d buy yoghurts and drink them while we walked home.

    We quickly became inseparable. Our classmates used to call us “husband and wife” teasingly, but we just really enjoyed each other’s company. Our friendship did not have a romantic undertone. 

    In fact, Jesse had a crush on another classmate when we got to SS 3 and begged me for weeks to talk to his crush on his behalf. They eventually got dating, but the girl dumped him by second term because he spent all his time with me. I did try to include her in all the discussions and walks that Jesse and I usually did together. But she wanted Jesse to stop talking to me to focus on her instead, and he just couldn’t do it.

    Leaving secondary school in 2012 was extra emotional because we knew we couldn’t attend the same university. Jesse’s parents had always said he’d attend their church’s private university, and I knew there was no way my parents could afford that.

    But somehow, even when we attended university in different states, we kept our friendship intact. We met up during school holidays, but whenever we were in school, we kept in touch through FaceBook, 2go, Blackberry Messenger, and phone calls. Omo, we made so many phone calls, especially at midnight, because it was cheaper.

    We also tried to create memories together by watching movies and TV series at the same time so we could talk about it.

    We’d just finished watching an episode of “Friends” when we decided to start telling each other, “I love you,” as an inside joke. We thought, well, people don’t understand how two people of the opposite sex can be platonic friends but still genuinely love each other, so let’s throw them off even more.

    Since then, we’ve ended every conversation with “I love you.” It’s still difficult to explain to others, but it was worse when we first started saying it. 

    Jesse had a girlfriend then, and while she was cordial with me, she always complained to him that she didn’t like our declarations of love. So, he toned it down whenever he was around her. It wasn’t much of a problem for me because I dated a lot of fuckboys in uni, and most of them didn’t care.

    Jesse thinks I expect too little in romantic relationships, so I typically go for guys who break my heart. I’m still not sure whether to accept that analysis, but knowing I have a best friend who loves me unconditionally and without expectations somehow reduces the hurt from my almost non-existent love life. 

    Jesse and I have lived in the same city since 2019, and while we don’t see each other as often because of adulting struggles and work, our friendship has remained as steady as a rock. We talk on the phone daily, send each other little gifts and are even part of each other’s families. I think of Jesse as my soulmate; he just gets me.

    He’s currently in a long-distance relationship with the girl he’s been dating since 2021 — she relocated last year — and I’m still as single as ever. This dynamic often makes mutual friends joke that we’ll hook up one day or suddenly realise we want to be together romantically, especially because we go on friendship dates at least once a month. 

    Some friends have even whispered to his girlfriend not to trust him fully since she’s far away in a whole other country while Jesse and I are so close in the same city.

    It gets tiring having to constantly explain that I don’t want to date my best friend. Is it really that difficult to imagine people can love each other and not want to have sex? 

    I’m very sure that attempting to make our relationship romantic will ruin our friendship. We’ve never talked about becoming more than friends, and I don’t want it either. Jesse is the one good thing in my life. I’m shit at romantic relationships. 

    What if we start dating, and I mess it up? I wouldn’t just be losing a boyfriend; I’d be losing my best friend and literal soulmate. That’s too big a risk to take just because of sex. At least, as friends, I know he’ll be part of my life forever, and I’m okay with that.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: My Best Friend and I Plan to Marry Each Other if We’re Still Single at 30

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  • Want to make your female friends feel special and appreciated every time you call on them? Surely, you know you can’t unlock this feeling with just their government names. You’re in luck if you are out there for sweet and hilarious names to call your female friends. We’ve compiled a list of names that’ll do the trick.

    33 Sweet Names to Call Your Female Friend

    Sweet names to call a female friends

    These are the names to call your female bestie if you want them to smile at the thought of how much you rate them. 

    Angel

    If she’s your human guardian angel. 

    Bestie

    If she’s a sister from another mother.

    Babes

    If she’s a girl’s girl.

    Sweet Pea

    If she’s a cute little fellow.

    Honim

    This is the Igbo version of “Honey”.

    Sweetim

    This is the Igbo version of “Sweety”.

    Tomato Jos

    No better way to let your friend know she’s the fairest in the land.

    Pretty

    If her beauty isn’t up for discussion.

    My homegirl

    If she’s dependable AF.

    Baby

    Is she even your friend if she’s not your baby?

    Funny names to call your female friends

    Are you out there for funny names to call your female friends that’ll crack them up? The names below might inspire you. 

    Arike pre-order

    If she’s your personal Instagram vendor. 

    Mother hen

    If she likes to cosplay as your mum.

    Odumodu Pink

    If she’s not a preacher of peace.

    Ukwu vboot

    If she’s got a big fat ass.

    Mother of Dragons

    If she’s the protector and fighter in your friend group.

    [ad]

    Catwoman

    If she’s got a cat that steals her attention from you.

    Queen Lizzy

    If she enjoys correcting your English.

    Giggles

    This is the perfect funny name for your female friend if she laughs more than she talks.

    Rapunzel

    If she’s a natural hair girlie obsessed with growing her hair. 

    Skin like milk

    If she’s a skincare junky with results to show for it. 

    Mother Gagool

    If she’s the strictest in your friend group.

    English Gold

    If she’s a money bag.

    Mummy C-Dollar

    If she runs multiple businesses and is always about the money. 

    ALSO READ: 100 Sweet Names To Call Your Girlfriend That’ll Make Her Blush

    Nice names to call your female friends

    These are nice names to call your female friend if you’ve got a hint that they hate their government name.

    Queen

    If she’s got some royal blood in her. 

    Buks

    It’s the porch version of Bukola

    Nelly

    If you know she doesn’t like her government name, Chinelo.

    Yetty 

    Call your female friend this if she’s ready to pick a fight at the mention of Yetunde.

    Kelly

    If she doesn’t like her government name, Kelechi.

    Tipha

    If she cringes anytime people call her Latifat. 

    Vicky

    If she doesn’t like Victoria.

    Princess

    She doesn’t need any connection to royalty to answer this name. 

    Rukky

    If she turns red anytime you call her Rukayat.

    Enjoyed this piece about names to call your female friends? Read this next: 60 Cute Names To Save Your Boyfriend’s Contact In Your Phone

  • What does pretty privilege look like in men? Jonathan* (28) talks about getting financial favours from the women in his life and why he doesn’t mind it. 

    As told to Boluwatife

    Image by Canva AI

    I’ve been aware of my good looks since childhood. 

    As a young boy, it wasn’t strange for my mum’s friends to say things like, “Fine boy, you’ll marry my daughter o,” or “Mummy Jonathan, won’t you collect groom price like this?” It was almost to be expected. People acknowledged my looks everywhere I went, and I grew to expect it.

    I started expecting it with girls right from primary school. You’d hardly find a girl and boy in my school sharing the same seat. It was usually two seatmates of the same gender. Seatmates of different genders only happened when the class teacher forced it to as some form of punishment. 

    However, in primary 4, three female classmates always struggled to sit with me. I sat alone as the class captain, and these girls always came to sit with me at different times. One of them, Remi*, would bring her lunch box to my desk during break time and invite me to eat her food. Then, she’d stay there long after the break was over unless one of the other girls tricked her away so they could sit beside me.

    By secondary school, I’d realised my advantage, and I’m not ashamed to say I used it to the full extent. I didn’t have to do more than the bare minimum; I only had to smile and show a little care, and I never lacked a girlfriend. Even when other girls knew I was with someone else, they didn’t stop trying to be nice to me. I only had to say I was hungry or wanted to buy ice cream, and someone would offer to get it for me. It was so interesting to me.

    I once designed a handwritten birthday card for a girl in another class, and she bought me a bottle of perfume to thank me for giving her a birthday gift. Another time, I lent a girl my sweater, and she told everyone I liked her. 

    The first time I got actual money from a girlfriend was in university. I had gambled away my school fees, hoping to win it back, but I lost it. I complained bitterly to my girlfriend, Seun*, and she asked for my account number. The next thing I saw in my account was ₦50k. Seun actually sent me part of her school fees and lied to her dad that it was stolen so he’d send it back to her.

    Looking back, I really got a lot of money from Seun. We dated all through my time in university, and I still think of her as my one true love. She was a rich man’s child, and I was in a gambling phase, so she saved my ass most of the time. We’d have still been together today if her dad hadn’t sent her abroad after we graduated in 2018. A long-distance relationship wouldn’t have worked, and we mutually ended things. 

    Since Seun, I’ve had four other semi-serious relationships, but I’ve noticed that all my exes always had more money and were okay with spending it on me. I don’t know if that makes me sound like a gigolo, but it’s the truth.

    It’s also not like I deliberately look for richer women. It’s just a thing where I know I can have almost every woman I want, so I’m not scared to approach successful women. 

    For context, I’m an upwardly mobile young professional with a good job who always meets people like me. Women in this category are often successful and relatively independent. None of the professional women I’ve dated have ever waited for me to buy them something before they took me out on a date or bought me shoes and wristwatches. 

    I also occasionally spend on dates and gifts for special occasions, but a more significant part of the financial support has always come from the women I’ve dated. I don’t know what it is, but women easily give me money. I only need to complain, and they’re offering to help me out. It’s the reason why I can’t relate when people say women are stingy or only want men with money. That hasn’t been my experience.

    Just last year, my girlfriend gave me ₦400k to support my rent because I complained that I didn’t have enough. I think that’s the highest amount I’ve ever gotten from a woman at once. I fully intend to pay that ₦400k back, but it still blows my mind that she was willing to give me that much.

    I’m not mad at the pretty privilege. I know guys who spend so much on ladies and never get that energy reciprocated. At least, that’s not my story.

    Maybe ladies don’t even spend on me because I’m handsome. Maybe I’ve just been lucky enough to meet generous women. Whatever the case, I’m grateful for it. Will I ever date someone I have to be spending on? Not likely. There’s no need for me to stop something good just because I want to feel like I’m also spending on women. I’m not trying to prove any point.

    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

    NEXT READ: At 62, I Returned to Nigeria to Retire. Things Took an Unexpected Turn

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

    Nairalife #286 bio

    When did you first become conscious of money?

    My parents separated when I was 7 years old. It didn’t become a financial problem until 2020, when I turned 15. Before this time, I went back and forth, living with both of them at different times. 

    I started living with my mum permanently in SS 1 and hardly got money from her. We didn’t have a great relationship and seldom talked to each other because she’d remarried, and I thought she focused more on her new family. So, I couldn’t tell her my school and personal needs. That wasn’t the case when I lived with my dad, and I realised I had to make money by myself.

    How did you do that?

    I began writing notes for my classmates for money. I attended a free public school, and most students didn’t take things like writing notes seriously. So, I charged them to do it. I wrote a full topic or two for ₦500 – ₦1k. If the topic was too small, I accepted snacks as payment. It was a win-win situation for me. The more I wrote, the more I read, so I liked it.

    I also washed clothes for two neighbours on weekends and made ₦5k/week from both of them. For the rest of secondary school, I fended for myself with both hustles. I also opened a student account and saved some of my earnings there.

    I’m curious. Why didn’t you ask your dad for help?

    Let me give you some context: My dad didn’t have a steady income source. He was a pastor and only got money when churches invited him to preach. It wasn’t an actual job. However, he always provided for me when I lived with him. During bad periods, he didn’t mind borrowing money to ensure I was comfortable. My mum worked as a caterer. When I moved in with her, she’d remarried and had other children. 

    It didn’t occur to me to ask my dad for money because I knew how difficult things were for him. Also, I think he expected my mum to sort out my needs because she basically forced me to come to live with her permanently. She arrived at my dad’s house one random Sunday and made me follow her. 

    But my mum barely provided for me. We had a huge fight once, and I accused her of focusing only on her new family. I told her to leave me alone and allow me to fend for myself. So, I guess that was a factor in why I had to be independent early.

    So, what did you do after secondary school?

    My mum enrolled me in a government-funded catering school in 2022. Tuition was free, but participants paid for materials and foodstuff for the practical projects. My mum gave me the money for each project — usually around ₦1k or ₦2k — for the first two to three weeks, then she suddenly stopped. 

    I kept washing clothes to earn money, so I had enough to get me through the six-month catering programme. I toyed with the idea of going to the university, but there were no funds. I also considered making money from catering, but I wasn’t sure how to start.

    So, I stuck with laundry, making around ₦5k/week. Then, one day in December, I followed a friend to the microfinance bank where he worked. I applied to work there as a joke. They told me to resume immediately.

    What role?

    Loan collector. Basic salary was ₦40k/month with a ₦5k monthly bonus for complete attendance at the office. There was also a ₦5k bonus for using my personal phone to work and incentives for every amount I retrieved from a debtor. In total, I made ₦50k – ₦60k/month. But the job came with many challenges.

    I’m listening 

    A big part of my job was calling debtors to remind them to repay the loans, and I had targets to meet. My colleagues often resorted to screaming at debtors, insulting them, and even intimidating them by sending false messages to their contact lists.

    At first, I found it difficult to rain insults, but I had to adapt when people refused to pay the money they owed. The only thing I didn’t do was send messages to their contact lists. I often missed my targets and was constantly threatened with losing my job. It was so stressful.

    On top of that, I started selling pastries at work. My goal was to make as much money as possible, save and then use my savings to return to school. So, three months into the job, I began making chin-chin and peanuts at home and taking them to the office the following day to sell to my colleagues. I figured I’d use the profit to sort out transportation and other minor expenses so I could save a bulk of my salary.

    Did it work out like you imagined?

    It did at first. I’d spend about ₦7k getting flour, sugar, and other ingredients to make a batch of pastries. I sold them at ₦100 each and made about ₦2k profit per batch. Then, after some weeks, more people started buying, and my profit grew to ₦4k. 

    I sold the pastries for only two months, though. The stress was too much; I’d return home by 11 p.m., make pastries, and wake up at 6 a.m. to prepare my siblings for school. The pressure from missing targets at work was also at an all-time high, and to make it worse, flour and sugar became wildly expensive. 

    A paint rubber size of flour shot up from ₦2k – ₦3k to ₦5k straight up. Sugar also went from ₦5k to ₦10k, and butter went from ₦1700 per row to ₦2,200. Every single day, the prices increased by an additional ₦100 or ₦200. I changed my pastry prices from ₦100 to ₦150 to try to meet up, but people complained, and I lost money. 

    I had to stop for my peace of mind. I even considered quitting my job too, but fortunately, I didn’t have to.

    Did anything change at work?

    Yes, and it’s still funny how it happened. Around June/July 2023, I went to work and was preparing to go round to collect payments when my boss stopped me and asked, “Can you do auditing?” 

    I replied, “Yes,” even though I didn’t know what she meant. It just sounded better than loan collection. The next thing she said was to ask me to resume at the auditing department the next day.

    When I got home, I did some research about auditing to understand what I’d agreed to. The next day, an existing audit staff member gave me a crash course about the department. That’s how I became an auditor at my job without a degree or any form of higher education.

    Does everyone in the auditing department have degrees? 

    Yes. Only people with BScs and HNDs work in auditing, and I’m still shocked I got the opportunity. My boss didn’t even ask to evaluate my CV or anything. I think it was just God’s grace.

    My basic salary remained ₦40k, but my monthly incentives increased to ₦30k, bringing my salary to ₦70k/month. In March 2024, my basic salary was increased to ₦50k, bringing my total salary to ₦80k – ₦90k, depending on monthly bonuses and incentives. 

    There are no targets in my new role. My job description involves evaluating loan applications and reviewing customers’ information to confirm they sent the accurate requirements. It sounds simple, but it isn’t. Nigerians are funny people. They’ll comfortably send fake information just to get loans. 

    I’m screaming. What were some of the things you spent on?

    I mostly saved my salary for school. By July 2023, I’d saved about ₦300k, but I gave my mum ₦200k out of it to rent a house. It repaired our relationship.

    How so?

    I met my mum crying at home one day, and I found out that her husband had beaten her. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed she had struggles in her marriage, and even though we barely talked, I’d told her to leave the marriage.

    When I met her crying that day, I brought up the topic of leaving again and offered to contribute money to help her find a new place. I think she didn’t expect that. A month later, we got a new apartment and moved in with my young siblings. After that, we had a serious discussion about our issues and made sure things were okay between us. We couldn’t afford to keep fighting when we now had only each other. I still have my dad, but our communication is quite rare.

    I’m glad you worked things out with your mum

    I am, too. We understand each other better now. My expenses have slightly increased because I contribute to the home’s expenses, but I try to save at least ₦30k monthly. My savings have grown again to about ₦380k, and I’m planning to use it to pursue admission.

    Have you made any attempts towards that?

    I’ve been trying since December 2023. I’m trying to work out a part-time program, but I’ve been stuck at the JAMB regularisation stage. I was admitted into a polytechnic and needed to register on the JAMB portal. However, the person who created the profile forgot to link my correct email address to the registration number before paying. 

    This means I only got a JAMB-generated email, which I have no access to and no way to complete the process. I’ve tried to change it, but it’s been an extremely long back-and-forth. I’ve spent ₦60k on the whole admission process, but it looks like I’ll have to abandon it and try again next year.

    I hope it’s resolved soon. You seem intent on getting into school

    To be honest, it’s the degree I’m pursuing. I’ve tried applying to other jobs, but they ask for a BSc or HND certificate. I need school to get better career opportunities.

    However, if I were to attend university to study what I’d like, it’d be law. I’m outspoken, and I’d like to help people who don’t have a voice. But studying law would mean quitting my job since I can’t take the course part-time. Where would I get the money from? 

    I’m pursuing mass communication now. Maybe if I graduate and there’s still time, I can study law. I also plan to take a short auditing course someday.

    How would you describe your relationship with money?

    I’m always on a budget. I’m extra careful about what I spend money on and how I spend it because any mistake means hanging on by a thread till salary enters again. I don’t think I’ve ever made a bad financial decision.

    What would you say has influenced your thinking around money?

    My family’s situation. I was pampered before my parents’ final separation. I had no business thinking about money. But when I started fending for myself after their separation, I realised that money isn’t easy to make, and I needed to be careful with how I spend it. Managing money became all I could focus on.

    Sometimes, I wake up and cry when I remember my financial situation. I’m not 20 yet, but I already have so much to shoulder. I’m going through life without a safety net, which means I have to create my own. So, I must consciously save and save because I don’t know what can hit me in the future. My mum doesn’t make much as a caterer, so I can’t depend on her. I’m always stressed about money, and I think I’m even at risk of developing high blood pressure.

    I can’t help wondering if my life would’ve turned out easier if my parents had made different decisions. My siblings will also go through this when they get to my age because their father is not around too. I just hope I can be financially there for them when the time comes. 

    Rooting for you. What do your typical monthly expenses look like?

    #Nairalife 286 monthly expenses

    I don’t spend on data or airtime because I get ₦500 airtime daily at my job, and I have enough left over at the end of the day to use for data and calls.

    Is there anything you want right but can’t afford?

    A new phone. My phone has been damaged for a while now, and I had to choose between fixing it and buying a new one. I settled on fixing it since I couldn’t afford a new one, which cost me ₦25k.

    How much do you need to earn to worry less about money?

    I feel like, the more you earn, the more your responsibility increases. But I think ₦200k/month would significantly reduce my stress levels.

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1 – 10?

    4. I’m surviving despite the fact that I don’t have a certificate, but I don’t like having to think extra hard about how to avoid going broke while still providing for my family. It’s a lot.

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

    Yes, I want to do a Naira Life!

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

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  • For many people, navigating opposite-sex friendships after marriage requires careful consideration and open communication. On the one hand, you don’t want to blur the lines and give your partner reasons to worry; on the other, you don’t want to be the friend who cuts off those you’ve known all your life because you found your Cinderella or Prince Charming.

    So, how do you find the balance? These married Nigerians share what works for them.

    Abraham*, 39

    I still have relationships with most of my female friends, but the dynamics changed after marriage. Many married before I did, so I mostly did the pulling back. I’m pretty playful around my friends. I hug, carry, pull, and peck at will. They know me as a touchy person, so they don’t complain. But imagine keeping that energy after they married—that’s asking for trouble. However, I noticed they got closer and more comfortable around me after I married. They’d invite me and my wife to events, weekend getaways, etc. I’ve even made friends with two of their husbands, and I’m cordial with the others.

    Ibukun*, 28

    My closest male and female friends from uni and secondary school have remained my friends even now as a married woman. I’m an only child, and I consider my friends the siblings I never had. One of my male friends matched my husband and me, so it was only natural that the friendship remained intact. I can’t say anything has changed since we got married. My male friends visit our house and play games with my husband, and we’ve gone on multiple getaways together. At this point, my husband has accepted them as my siblings too. And when my friends get married, their wives will have a sister-in-law in me.

    Veronica*, 31

    My husband never had any reservations about my male friends while we were dating. I was super close to two guys, and one of them even became pals with my husband. But after we married, I noticed my friends kept their distance. They wouldn’t text if I didn’t reach out and weren’t keen on visiting unless there was an occasion. At first, I thought I’d done something wrong or was worried my husband said something to them behind my back. However, during a conversation in our group chat, they said they were respecting my union and didn’t want to overreach. It was painful, but I also understood their point. We still consider ourselves friends, but there’s been a shift in how close we are.

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    Bunmi*, 28

    I hate to admit it, but my husband is insecure when it comes to opposite-sex friendships. It’s something I noticed right from our relationship days in uni. He’d get moody if he saw me hanging out with guys or if he came to my hostel and saw male friends around. It was initially a huge red flag for me, but something happened in my final year that also made me paranoid about male friends. This guy, who I considered my closest friend, made strong sexual advances toward me. It unsettled me so much and ruined that friendship. I didn’t share the experience with my husband, but it made me see reason with him. We got married four years ago, and I honestly can’t say I’ve made any new male friends or made efforts to maintain the ones I had in the past.

    Ibrahim*, 35

    I’ve lost a couple of female friends to marriage, and it’s probably not their fault—it’s mostly mine. I always feel the need to pull back after a female friend marries. It’s my way of respecting their new status. I’ll gladly return the energy if they try to keep the relationship as it was. But with most, they maintain their lane after I pull back, which helps me know that I made the right choice to keep my distance. As a married man, I can’t say I go above and beyond to make new female friends. If it happens, I always make it clear that I’m married. That way, there’s no room for mixed signals. Also, they must befriend my wife.

    Soji*, 40

    I have an understanding with my wife: Her friends are my friends, and my friends are her friends. In most cases, this hasn’t always been 100%, but I can say at least 75% of our friends are mutual. This has helped with the whole opposite-sex friendship thing. It’s hard for me to mention a female friend my wife doesn’t know, and it’s the same with her. It also helps that some of these friends are married, and the single ones have serious partners.

    Read this next: My Best Friend and I Plan to Marry Each Other if We’re Still Single at 30