At 25, Osaz’s* dating history has been a rollercoaster of highs and lows, from a teenage romance to a difficult trauma bond and the lingering memory of the one who got away. These experiences reshaped not just how he sees relationships but also how he views himself. They’ve made him more cautious but also wiser about what he truly wants.
What’s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I’m single right now. It’s been a mix of wanting love but keeping my guard up. For the longest time, commitment felt like too much to handle.
Walk me through your dating life. How did you get here?
My very first relationship was in secondary school when I was about 15. We were kids, so it was mostly happy with a few silly fights. Things changed when she moved to another state. She was also ahead of me in school and soon got into university. Naturally, she moved on, and our communication died. I don’t blame her; I actually did the same thing in my next relationship.
God abeg. Tell me about that one.
In 2017, during my gap year before university, I met Dara* at my A-levels tutorial. She was sweet, outspoken, and bubbly. We dated for about a year, and it was a good relationship until I got into school. I was distracted by the people in my new environment, and started flirting with other girls. I ended things within three months because I felt guilty. She was hurt but appreciated my honesty.
I bet. What happened after?
For the first two years of uni, nothing serious. I just had some flings. I’d talk to girls, and I’d back out the moment it started to get serious. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them; I just wanted fun without the burden of commitment. I cared about these girls, but not enough to build a relationship. That eventually changed.
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How so?
During the COVID year, I lost a close friend to a car crash shortly before lockdown, and it really messed with me. I withdrew from everyone, even girls, and turned to writing as a way to cope. That’s how I met Angel*.
She reached out in April 2020 after reading something I’d posted in a group chat. She related to it, and we started talking. Looking back, I think we trauma-bonded. She had also lost someone and was going through family issues. We leaned on each other heavily, and it felt natural to fall into a relationship.
What was that relationship like?
Unhealthy. At first, it felt good, but soon I wasn’t sure if we actually liked each other or were just using each other for support. I tried to point this out, but she insisted she loved me. So I decided to put in more effort by calling often, sending love texts, and being more expressive. Soon after, she changed her mind, accused me of love-bombing, and ended the relationship.
Even after the breakup, she’d pop in to “check up” on me, we’d slip back into old patterns, and then she’d ghost again. The cycle dragged on for months until I finally blocked her. It took me another year to fully get over her. By then, I was more wary of commitments and went back to casual flings until I met Mimi*.
Tell me about Mimi.
We met through a mutual friend early in 2022. She saw my picture on their status, asked about me, and we exchanged numbers. Mimi and I bonded over our love for music and other similar tastes. She was very attractive, and even though it started as a fling, I caught real feelings. She felt the same way, too. I enjoyed that we could go on long walks and just talk.
But shortly after we started to build our bond, our university went on strike. We lived in different cities and spent the entire time apart. Unfortunately, my phone got faulty around the same time. I couldn’t replace it for almost four months, and our communication tanked. She felt I ghosted her.
Did you explain what happened?
Yes. I tried to keep in touch with a friend’s phone at first, but it wasn’t the same. We went from talking every day to once a week, then barely twice a month. It was frustrating, but it was beyond my control. When I finally got a new phone, I apologised. She forgave me, but things weren’t the same.
Back on campus, she grew distant. I introduced her to my friends, but she had no boundaries. She flirted with them constantly and even ended up texting one of them. I told her how I felt, but she didn’t stop. The final straw was one night when I texted that I wanted to visit. She told me not to come because she was with another guy, and said it in a way that felt spiteful. That’s when I knew she was done, and so was I.
That must have hurt. Did you meet anyone new afterwards?
Yes, but it was short-lived. One night in June of 2023, while waiting for a shawarma order, I met this girl who sat nearby and teased me about watching “Merlin” in 2023. She had this bright, funny energy, and we just clicked. We talked for hours, even after our orders were ready. It felt like we’d known each other for years.
I planned to walk her home and ask for her number, but her friends showed up and whisked her away. I never saw her again. I regretted not asking sooner, and for a while, I romanticised the “what ifs.” I graduated a few months later; that was the last time I felt that spark for someone.
Why do you think it’s so hard to find love these days?
I also speak to myself when I say that most young people aren’t clear about what they want and have normalised casual relationships. Add trust issues to that, and it’s hard to build anything with real meaning.
Fair enough. Do you think these experiences have altered your idea of love?
I’ve realised love is never enough. Effort, trust, and communication matter just as much. I’ve also had to face my own flaws. For a long time, I thought girls just broke my heart, but with time, I saw how I’d played my own part too. My experiences have made me more intentional about how I treat women.
So, how would you say the streets are treating you? Rate it on a scale of 1-10
I’d say a 7. Most days, it feels good not being accountable to anyone. Between work and keeping to myself, I barely have the time for anything else anyway.
You might think your job is just “stressful,” but there’s a thin line between character building and outright toxic behaviour. Beyond the long hours and bad bosses, there’s a deeper issue: how toxic work environments mess with your relationships, both at home and at work.
We spoke to Sarah Oyefeso, an organisational psychologist, who broke down exactly why it happens and what to do about it.
What makes a workplace toxic?
“At its core, it’s any environment where your emotional safety is consistently undermined,” Sarah tells Zikoko. “This could look like poor leadership, constant micromanagement, favouritism, harassment, unrealistic expectations, or just persistent disrespect. Once your work stress starts to spill into how you relate with others, that’s your sign.”
So, what should you look out for before accepting a job?
Sarah says the signs are usually there.
If they’re overly eager to hire you without due process, that’s a red flag. If they’re constantly hiring, ask yourself why people keep leaving. Pay attention to the vibe during the interview, too. If the interviewer is too casual or dismissive, chances are you won’t be taken seriously on the job either. Also, observe the current employees. They might not complain, but observe their mannerisms. And if you can, find someone who’s worked there before — ask about their experience and why they left. That alone can save you.
6 Nigerians Share How Toxic Jobs Changed Their Lives
To understand just how bad it can get, we asked six Nigerians about the toxic jobs that pushed them to the brink.
“I became deeply anxious and withdrawn. I barely spoke at home” — *Dan, 24
*Dan learned that even being around loved ones can feel like a chore when you’re deeply burnt out. He shares:
“I joined a digital marketing agency in 2024. On my first day, I greeted the managing director, Ronke, and she ignored me. I brushed it off, thinking she was having a bad day. I didn’t realise that was just who she was.
She constantly picked on me for little mistakes. I understand corrections are part of the job, but she humiliated me in front of the whole office. Once, just two weeks after I joined, the network was down and I couldn’t complete a task. I let her know, but instead of understanding, she scheduled an all-hands meeting and used it to insult me for an hour. I cried. I even got a query from HR that started with, ‘I believe you don’t have sense.’
After less than two months, I resigned. But the damage was done. I became deeply anxious and withdrawn. I barely spoke at home because I couldn’t even find the words to explain what I was going through. My relationship with my mum and brothers became strained. I used to be bubbly, but I had no energy left after work.”
Sarah’s take: “When you’re constantly anxious at work, your nervous system doesn’t just switch off when you clock out. That stress follows you home. You might withdraw, snap at people or stop communicating because you’re emotionally drained. Don’t assume your partner or family will automatically understand — overshare the mundane details of your days. Keeping them in the loop helps them show up for you.”
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“The same fear I felt walking into the office follows me everywhere” — *Faith, 25
Faith’s job didn’t just take her peace; it changed how she felt in every other space, too. She shares:
“I worked at a fintech where my manager, Tayo, was desperate to please our supervisor. So he started sabotaging me.
Once, I tweeted about enjoying remote work. Tayo messaged me privately about it, and we had a casual chat. Next thing, the supervisor called to insult me. Turns out Tayo had twisted my words.
He began taking my big leads and assigning me accounts that barely brought in commission. I became so guarded that I stopped collaborating and withdrew from even my friends. I still find it hard to go to church or talk to people. It’s like I’m permanently scared.”
Sarah’s take: “What Faith is going through is workplace-induced trauma. It causes anxiety that affects your confidence in relationships and stops you from reaching out in familiar spaces.
Reclaim your safe spaces, even if it’s just with one trusted person. And be gentle with yourself, healing from a job shouldn’t be your responsibility, but sadly, it is.
“I constantly lashed out at the people who loved me” — *Jachima, 23
Toxic workplaces don’t just stress you, they erase your sense of self. That was precisely *Jachinma’s reality.
“Working in that space really changed me. From day one, I felt unsafe. A senior colleague saw my pink bag and said, ‘Is pink your favourite colour? That’s the colour of my favourite part of a woman.’
The sexual and degrading comments targeted at women kept coming, and HR never did anything.
I once came in sick and asked to go home, but they refused. Meanwhile, my manager strolled in at 10 a.m. and left before 2 p.m. I ended up leaving around 4 p.m. because I was losing feeling in my leg. The next morning, I got a query.
It got to a point where I was crying on the way to work. I had panic attacks and snapped at my family and friends all the time. I hated who I was becoming.”
Sarah’s take: “Toxic workplaces can trigger anxiety, depression, and even suicidal thoughts. When you’re constantly berated, your body starts to absorb that message. You feel trapped, and that hopelessness can spiral into panic attacks, exhaustion, or depression. Like in *Jachinma’s case, you may even lash out at people who love you. Once you begin to lose your sense of self, it’s time to prioritise an exit plan.
A Human Resource Person is supposed to protect employees, but in many Nigerian workplaces, HR simply echoes management. If HR enables abusers or becomes one itself, that’s not just a toxic culture; it’s dangerous.
“I was suspended from work for three weeks without pay, amidst my struggles” — *Aisha, 26
Toxic workplaces don’t just steal your joy; they can crush your self-worth and convince you that you’re not worthy of compassion. *Aisha can relate:
“I worked at a logistics company during NYSC. They didn’t pay salaries for three months, and I had to survive on ₦33k, which barely covered rent, food or transport.
One day, I told my manager I couldn’t afford to come in because I didn’t have money. The next morning, I got a query — on the general group chat — where he called me lazy and unserious.
It hurt me because I expected him to understand.. Instead, he suspended me for three weeks.
There was never any explanation or apology about the withheld salaries. Over time, I started withdrawing from everyone, even people who cared about me. I felt like I wasn’t enough.
Sarah’s take: “If, like *Aisha, you’re stuck in a toxic job, detach emotionally. Find something that’s yours —a personal goal, hobby, anything that gives you joy outside work. It’ll give you perspective. Also, lean on friends and family who love and affirm you. Their support will help protect your self-worth until you can walk away.”
“My blood pressure shot up” — *Hameed, 29
Beyond your mind, toxicity from work also affects your body and physical health. *Hameed shares:
“I had a managerial role at a food company, but instead of feeling empowered, I was always on edge. Whenever a staff member made a mistake, my superior threw me under the bus because he wanted to be in the CEO’s good books. Even when staff made mistakes, I paid the price. If funds went missing, they’d deduct it from my salary.
I was so anxious I couldn’t sleep. My blood pressure shot up. I was constantly sick and snapping at my fiancée, who didn’t understand what was happening to me. Truth is, I didn’t understand either.
Sarah’s take: A lot of people underestimate how physically the symptoms of stress and toxicity from work manifest. It can show up as headaches, high blood pressure, and insomnia. And even if you don’t ‘look’ stressed, that doesn’t mean it’s not real. Everyone reacts differently, even in the same environment.
“I began to question myself and my skills as an artist” — *Peter, 24
*Peter’s job didn’t just drain him. It made him doubt his competence and talent. He shares:
“My boss got me the job, so I felt indebted. But the way he spoke to me?Always condescending.
He’d give feedback in ways that made me feel stupid. Other colleagues noticed, so it wasn’t just in my head. But I couldn’t report him. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or cause problems.
Over time, I lost confidence. I began to question myself and my skills as an artist. Things I used to feel confident about suddenly seemed basic in my own eyes.”
Sarah’s take: It’s tough when your boss is also your helper, but silence only enables abuse. If they treat you poorly, you’re likely out of favour. If you can’t talk to them about how you feel, quietly plan your exit. In the meantime, seek feedback and encouragement from people outside that space who can affirm your work.
The bottom line
You spend most of your life at work. It shouldn’t leave you sick and anxious, or affect your relationships. If your job is stealing your joy, then it’s time to leave. You deserve a space that values you and lets your relationships thrive.
And to companies creating these environments? Free lunch and branded T-shirts aren’t culture. Culture is how staff are treated on a random Thursday morning.
The Nigerian experience is physical, emotional, and sometimes international. No one knows it better than our features on #TheAbroadLife, a series where we detail and explore Nigerian experiences while living abroad.
Moving abroad was a dream come true for 21-year-old Ofonime, lawyer-turned-psychologist and the subject of this week’s Abroad Life, but that dream turned into her worst nightmare when the relative who promised to give her a soft landing in America threw her out for refusing an arranged marriage and left her alone to figure out life as an immigrant that knew nobody in the US.
When did you move to the US?
I came to the US in July 2022 when I was 19 but I’m 21 now. I left Nigeria because an aunt said she wanted to take care of me and sponsor me.
That’s a good thing, right?
It was until it wasn’t anymore. Let me start with a little backstory — I grew up with my stepfather and mother. I never knew my biological father because my mum left him before I turned one. I never met or knew anyone from his family until I snooped around and found out when I was 8. My mum eventually told me everything about them at 13. So I knew my biological father’s side of the family existed but I wasn’t keen on connecting with them because my stepfather loved me like his own and I never felt the absence of a father.
Sometime in 2021, my biological father’s sister who lives in the U.S. texted me randomly. She had been trying to connect with me since I was a little girl but she couldn’t reach my mum. I was a 300l law student at the University of Uyo at the time. We spoke for a while, then she asked me to come to the US because of the ASUU strike. I was a little bit happy about the idea but my mum already had plans of sponsoring me to the UK for my masters after law school. Then my aunt said she’d sponsor me because she doesn’t have any children.
It felt really good to hear her say that. I remember writing in my old diary that I wanted to connect with one of my father’s relatives at the age of 18. When she reached out, I thought that was God granting my wish. So I started applying to schools in the US, I got admission, got my visa on the first trial, and then I started preparing to move to the US.
You must have been excited…
Not really. Funding was still a problem. My mum booked my flight, paid my visa fees, and the first instalment of my school fees
Didn’t your aunt say she was going to sponsor you?
Oh, she asked my mum to pay and promised to refund her when I got to the US. She said she’d also pay other instalments. That didn’t happen because she ended up paying just one instalment. My school allows students to split payment in up to 5 instalments. My mom ended up paying for every other instalment.
Wait, what?
Yeah. My aunt was the only one I knew in the US, and she chose what school I should go to and which state I should live in — I ended up in Michigan where she lives.
When I was leaving Nigeria, she told me not to bring anything but I was sceptical about that and came with a small box full of clothes. She also told me not to bring my Infinix phone from Nigeria. She gave me her old iPhone 7 and told me she was waiting for the iPhone 14 to be released so she could buy that for me. She also promised to buy every other thing I needed. The only thing I had to my name was that box and the $300 allowance my mum gave me.
Did she insist on buying you stuff to make it easier for you to move?
That’s what I thought, but everything changed after the first month. I started noticing that she was trying to turn 19-year-old me into her child. She asked me to start calling her mum and her husband “dad”.
Oh…
Yeah. Her excuse was that she was going to adopt a child in the coming year and would like them to call them mum and dad so she figured I could start the tradition so the child could pick it up from me. I thought it was a stupid reason but I didn’t know anybody else in the US so I tried my best to call her mum. On the days that I forgot to do that, she wouldn’t respond to me. She made it compulsory to text her in the morning and evening.
She had strange rules, like not letting me read in my room, only downstairs. Michigan was cold, but her house was even colder. I didn’t mind until I noticed that she never liked to lower the AC, even when I asked. So I started taking pictures of my books to read on my phone upstairs.
Another weird rule she had was not allowing me to make friends with Nigerians because she thought it was stupid to leave Nigeria just to be hanging out with Nigerians. The people who ended up helping me here were Nigerians. I had a friend who would feed me because my aunt also restricted me from eating Nigerian food in her house. Even though she knew American food made me throw up.,
Ah, no way…
It gets worse from here. She tried to marry me off. In August 2022, she told me she had a friend who she’d made a pact with to marry into each other’s family. When I heard that, I had no issues with it but the problem came when my aunt wanted to use me to fulfil that pact because she didn’t have kids.
Mind you this boy was a 19-year-old, fresh out of high school. I was a 19-year-old who would have been in law school if not for ASUU strikes. I disagreed and said I wasn’t interested and I didn’t come here for that.
Yet, every time it came up and I refused, she’d hint about how the marriage could help me get a green card, which I found strange because I planned to go to school and eventually manage my mother’s school as a school/clinical psychologist.
Did she back off?
For a while, yes. Then she started getting angry about other things like how I called my stepfather my “dad”. She’d also get angry if I talked about him too much, and I couldn’t help it because I’m very close to my dad.
In December 2022 I started preparing for my maths exam. For context, I’m not great at maths so I needed to study but she had an errand for me and I told her I’d do it, just not during the weekend of my maths exam. She agreed but when I returned home that weekend, she asked me to run that errand. I tried explaining that I had exams but she got upset, saying she loves me but I make it hard for her to love me. In the morning, I asked her if she needed help with anything before I left for the library, she replied with a no and then said the most random thing.
What did she say?
She asked me to pack my bags because I was returning to school. Deep down I was happy because I could finally prepare for my exams but I sensed something was wrong. She insisted that I go back to school and didn’t even give me time to eat before leaving. I felt so bad that I told my mum about it, then my mum called her to find out what happened and two days later, she called me back saying my aunt wanted me to go and pick up the rest of my things.
She kicked you out?
Kinda, yes. She said I could no longer live with her but would be happy to help me pay my first rent. Later, she changed her mind and said she’d bring my stuff over to my school.
When she brought my things to school, she came with a friend and I noticed it was only the stuff I brought from Nigeria- she took back everything she had ever bought for me, including the iPhone 14 and an iPad. Luckily, the iPad was in my hostel room, but I had the phone in my pocket.
While I was still trying to speak with my aunt, her friend snatched the phone from my pocket. I told her the phone had important things on it like my school codes, a link to my school portal, and my exam materials. I said she could take the phone but asked for some time to transfer those things first.
Did you know why she was doing all of that?
My aunt didn’t say anything but her friend said it was because she brought me from Nigeria to polish my life and I started being anyhow.
First of all, there was no polishing; my parents were rich by Nigerian standards, and they could afford to send me to good schools and buy whatever I wanted. I also had a small business that brought me ₦40,000 – ₦30,000 weekly. My dad gave me allowances regularly, but I didn’t even need to spend it because my mum worked in my school so I could go to her office for anything.
I asked my aunt to let me transfer my stuff from the phone and they could take it. She agreed, but you know that thing that Nigerian parents do when they ask you to go and wear your slippers and come back?
Did she take off?
Her car was gone before I got to my hostel room; I felt so helpless. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to the campus police to report what happened. I fainted before I could even get there and when I woke up, I was in an ambulance, calling out for my mum. The police got involved after I regained consciousness and tried to help me get back the important things I had on the phone but they couldn’t get the phone because it was bought in her name. I ended up missing that maths exam but thankfully, my maths professor allowed me to write it before the end of the semester..
When school was about to close for Christmas break, my mum started looking for a place I could stay because I was technically homeless at that point. Then my mum’s friend in Houston offered to take me in and I stayed there throughout the break.
I’m happy you had someone to help you.
She’s family now. I also had the support of my boyfriend who found me a job in Maryland and connected me to a woman who’s now like my mum in the US. I haven’t spoken to my aunt in two years.
Good for you.
Not entirely. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Disorder (PTSD), major depressive disorder (MDD) and generalised anxiety disorder (GAD). I’m currently on pills because even anything that smells like her perfume or any house that looks like hers triggers me.
Because of my experiences with her, I now go temporarily blind and break out in hives in a stressful situation. The first time it happened, I just started praying that I wouldn’t become permanently blind because I didn’t have enough money to go to the hospital. I was still paying off the bills from the ambulance I was put into without my permission, which was over $1,000.
Thankfully, I started doing well last year; I was lucky to get a job and scholarship that are paying my school fees this year and I’ve made a lot of friends here too. I also started an NGO in Nigeria that focuses on mental health awareness and yes, I got myself another iPhone 14 and a MacBook Air. I just got myself everything I wanted and started sending money back home.
Love that for you. I’m curious though, how did your parents feel about everything your aunt did?
When my aunt started acting out, my parents asked if I was helpful in her house. I told them that I was doing chores I’d never have done in Nigeria just to make sure that I was not a burden to her. So we all agreed that we’d keep hoping for the best.
But when I told my mum that my aunt started getting pissed at me whenever I talk about loving my family, my mum got concerned. She advised me to endure for a while, get the university degree I came to the US for and come back home. But things never got better and I saw a side of my mum that broke my heart.
So sorry. Do you mind explaining more?
Sorry if I get emotional, it’s still a heavy topic for me. My dad has always been the sensitive one and my mum the tough one. She never cried but the day I ended up in the ambulance, I saw her mum cry for the first time, also, the events of that day made her hypertensive.
When that whole thing happened, everybody in my family was supportive- my mum, dad, siblings and aunties made it a tradition to call me every day; my other aunt didn’t have a lot but she’d send $10 or $20 whenever she could. My mum had to sell all her land to pay my school fees and she also took out loans which she’s now still repaying.
Even though I can now pay my school fees myself, my mum is still worried about me. For instance, I love tying Ankara wrappers when I’m alone at home but if my mum calls me and sees me wearing a wrapper, she starts crying because she thinks I wear that because I can’t afford regular clothes. The whole situation made her so emotional, that she started crying almost every day.
My entire family has been affected too- my brother called me one time and told me that they had stopped eating their food with protein because of the loans my mum was paying off. My heart broke so badly and I had to send money home.
I’m so sorry. How has this experience shaped your perception of the US?
I want to go back home. America is a very lonely place, there’s no community and nobody cares about you. Everyone is struggling, but they’d rather struggle alone.
The only reason I’m still here is because I want to be established enough before I move back to Nigeria. I wouldn’t even want my kids to grow up here. Apart from the gun violence, it’s a super lonely place.
Also, when you earn the money here, you don’t see it. I made lots of money over the summer but I ended up paying almost everything to the government in taxes; you have to pay for heat, water, nylon, literally everything. I’d rather stay in Nigeria and earn in dollars.
I recently got a car and insurance is expensive as shit. I had to hop on my boyfriend’s insurance plan. Also, every time I fell sick, I couldn’t go to the hospital because of how expensive health insurance is. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t advise a 19-year-old to come here if they don’t have super-rich parents or a well-paying job. This is not a great place to start afresh.
Let’s talk more about happy memories, how did you meet your boyfriend?
I met him on Twitter before I left Nigeria. I was trying to break into tech and someone pointed me to him. When I moved to the US, he was already here and we became friends. But we didn’t start dating until December 25, 2022. Just a few days after my aunt kicked me out.
When we started dating, he was supportive; he’d send me money every week. Even though we stayed in different states in the US, he’d order and send foodstuff t to me. He also calls my mum regularly to reassure her that I’m doing okay. If I didn’t have him, I’d have made progress but it would have been slower.
I was initially scared of letting him know that I was diagnosed with mental disorders but when I eventually told him, he took it well. The second time I went blind was in his house, he got really scared but tried to stay calm enough for both of us. He took me to the hospital and paid the bill. He has now put me on his health insurance so I can go to the hospital whenever I want to.
I’m glad to hear that. Have you started eating Nigerian food again?
Yes, I started eating strictly Nigerian food when I became free from my aunty’s shackles. I cook okra, oha, afang, jollof rice, Nigerian salad, and literally everything else. These days, I even wake up happily at midnight to eat eba.
Do you want to share your Abroad Life story? Please reach out to me here. Check in every Friday at 12 P.M (WAT) for new episodes of Abroad Life.
I was a child obsessed with cars in the 90s. My love for cars was so obvious that in most pictures of me from my family’s old photo album, I’m holding a miniature toy car. But now I’m terrified of cars these days, especially when it comes to driving them.
I looked forward to the day I could finally drive. So when I turned 16, I started classes with vim and practised in an open field close to where I lived. My driving instructor and I did this for a while, and after some time, I had to test myself on an actual road. That’s where shit got real.
I and my instructor set out that morning to take over the streets, and everything was going fine until I saw a truck the size of a petrol tanker, and at that moment, I froze. I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking, but I had this feeling I was about to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had just finished secondary school and here I was about to peace out on a random street? I know it sounds dramatic when people say it, but, omo, my whole life flashed right in front me, and all I did was stare back at it in shock. Luckily for us, my instructor grabbed the steering wheel and drove us off the road. We survived, but I walked away and never touched a steering wheel since then.
My whole life flashed in front of me, and all I did was stare back at it in shock.
Not knowing how to drive quickly became my personality trait. I joked about it and used it as a way to escape random errands like picking up family members from the airport or rushing to the market to get something. And with ride-hailing apps everywhere, did I really need to learn how to drive?
While not knowing how to drive has saved me from running a shit load of errands, I can’t deny how helpless it makes me sometimes. A prime example of this was on a night out with a friend back in 2019. We’d hung out with other friends, and since this was my pre-alcohol era, I didn’t take a sip of anything crazy that night. But he did. Against our better judgement, we hopped into the car and decided to head back home. Halfway into our ride, he stopped at a traffic light, looked at me and said, “I’m wasted. I don’t think I can drive without us getting into an accident.”
Eh?
For the first time in my life, I desperately wished I could get over my fear of the steering wheel and actually drive. Here we were, in the middle of the road, helpless in a time and a country where trigger-happy policemen could easily walk up to us and turn us into hashtags. I just couldn’t bring myself to get in the driver’s seat.
We scoured our contacts for someone who lived close by. I eventually remembered a mutual friend who I rarely spoke to lived close by. After an awkward call filled with the “That’s how you forgot me” back and forth, we convinced him to get a cab to where we were, drive us to our house and then make his way back home. It worked.
I still think about that night. What if it had ended differently? One would think this would help me get over my fear of driving, but no, I’m still stuck.
Driving is not the only thing I’m scared of. There’s the swimming thing which I lowkey believe traces back to my dad’s death (he didn’t drown; he just died). The thing is, my dad was a pilot and was rarely around. However, every time this man came home, he made sure my life was filled with more activities than actual people. There were four things my dad believed I needed to succeed in life: swimming classes, video games, a billion toys and an annoying older brother who locked me up in wardrobes for fun. He wanted me to take swimming seriously, so I started swimming classes the year I turned four.
But after years of learning the breaststroke and every other stroke in the world, my father died when I was eight and for the first time since I could remember, I didn’t go to swimming class for two weeks straight. Two weeks quickly became one month and one month turned into a year. Before I knew it, the thought of water just irritated me. I mean, what was the point? The man I was doing it for was gone. I didn’t step into a pool again until I was 22 years old.
My return back to the pool was uneventful, unfortunately. I went to a pool party and peer pressure won, so I got into the pool. There was a major difference this time though. While my earlier instinct had always been to step into the pool and show off tricks for my dad, this time, I stepped in and felt a weird sense of calm. I stood in the pool and felt the water, no serenre at all.
I haven’t swam since then. I just go into the pool, stand or submerge myself in the water and leave it at that. I lie and tell people I can’t swim, but the truth is, with my dad not watching, I don’t see the point.
Just like my failed swimming career, my inability to ride a bicycle can also be traced to my dad. No, he didn’t go hard on me for this one too. It’s just that bicycles were our thing. Teaching me how to ride a bicycle was the only part of fatherhood he didn’t outsource, and in those moments, I felt connected to him. Since he passed, I haven’t been on a bicycle. He stopped his lessons on the bicycles with four wheels, so unless someone has a version of that for adults, I don’t see myself on a bicycle anytime soon.
Do I need to know how to do these things? Yes. Do I want to know? Not really — at least, not all of them. Driving is something I have to learn. But the other two? They’re tied to my daddy issues, and I’m not really bothered about trying anymore. To this day, I don’t know why I froze in front of that truck, and not knowing has kept me trapped in time.
I really want to move past my fear of driving, I just don’t know how.
No child ever wants to visualise their parents as sexual beings, but what happens when you accidentally catch them having sex? These seven Nigerians share with us how they felt when they caught their parents having sex.
“They’ve unknowingly scarred me for life”
It happened when I was 10 years old. I was watching this new cartoon episode when someone came over looking for my dad. He seemed important, so I went to my dad’s room to tell him he had a guest, but the door was locked. I knocked so many times and there was no reply, but I knew he was there. I went to look for my mum and she wasn’t in her room so I knew they were together. I went back to his door and kept knocking very hard but nobody answered me.
That’s when I decided to try the other door that leads to the bedroom. The door is usually locked, but I wanted to be sure I had tried everything. Unfortunately for me, the door was open this time and then I saw them. I froze as my dad yelled at me, asking what I wanted. I couldn’t even tell him that I had been knocking for so long because I was in shock. I just delivered the message and went back to watching television, but I couldn’t even focus. Images of my mum on top of my dad kept flashing in my head. They’ve unknowingly scarred me for life.
– John
“The worst five minutes of my life”
I was preparing to write my SSCE, and since my dad said he didn’t have money to pay my SSCE fees. I came home and was just doing nothing. My mum was a housemistress in the boy’s hostel and my brother was in university, so it was just my dad and I at home.
My dad had a habit of coming home very late, and since we were the only ones that stayed in the house, I tried to not sleep off till he came back. One day, early in the morning, I heard the sound of my dad’s car. When I got outside, I could see a second figure riding shotgun, but before I could get close to the car, he shouted that he would be back and drove off. That’s when I knew he had come home with a woman that wasn’t my mum.
I wanted to find out if it was a pattern, so the next day I slept during the day so I could be awake when he returned at night. When he got back, I opened the door for him and he greeted me and went straight to his room, so I just returned to bed and lay there. Moments later, I looked through my window and saw a lady in the car. That’s when I realised she must have been there all this while. After my dad had his shower and ate, he came to where I lay down and pointed a torchlight in my face. He switched it off and then on again but I refused to move. When he was sure I was asleep, he went to open the door for the lady and they both snuck in through the kitchen. After he took her to his room, he came back to point the torchlight in my face, but I still didn’t move.
I let some time pass before I went to his room to see what exactly was going on. Alas, I saw the both of them completely naked, having hardcore sex — the kind you’d see in porn. I couldn’t move, just kept mute and watched my father fuck a woman that definitely was not my mum. I froze and watched, and it was the worst 5 minutes of my life.
– Tunde
“Maybe if I didn’t know what my father’s penis looked like, I would be fine.”
I have lost count of the number of times I’ve seen my parents have sex. At this point, I’ve started blaming them for the cause of the decline of my mental health. Maybe if I didn’t know what my father’s penis looked like, I would be fine.
One day, when I was 10 years old, I was hungry and didn’t know what was for lunch, so I knocked on my parent’s bedroom door to ask for lunch was. I thought I heard something like, “Come in,” and so I opened the door. As an adult, I now wonder that maybe it’s not come in I’d heard.
Immediately I opened the door, my parents yelped and scrambled to cover their bodies, but there was only one wrapper so I could still see everything. I just stood there, the door open, in shock. When my dad asked me what I wanted, I told him I needed food my mum told me to go eat the rice in the pot. The house was silent for the entire day and the only thought that kept going through my head was, “I thought sex only happened at night.”
My room is kind of close to theirs, so one day, as I was leaving my room, I heard noises coming from my parent’s room. At first, I thought they were praying, so I put my ear on the door to confirm. If they were praying, it meant they would be there for a while and I could at least watch television in the living room before they came out. However, the strange noises didn’t sound like people praying. Instead of me to just leave, I wanted to be sure what exactly was going on, so I peeped through the keyhole. That’s when I saw my parents engaging in hot fok. I blinked many times and went to wash my face with soap and water. I never mentioned the incident to them and I don’t plan on doing so. If I had just minded my business, I wouldn’t have seen all of that. That’s why I tell people that Amebo is bad.
– Anita
“Not once, but twice”
The first time I saw them, I was 14. I heard sounds coming from their room. Our household isn’t really one where we knock a lot, so I just opened the door and behold, my parents were there doing missionary. My father just turned back to look at me and asked me, “Can I help you?”
My parents have kuku always been very heavy on the PDA. The second time I caught them having sex, I was 18. I looked through our window and saw my parents going at it on our neighbour’s staircase. I just took a deep sigh and went back inside.
– Esosa
“I didn’t need to know my parents had sex”
I was 23 and didn’t tell my parents I would return from my trip a week early. I had my own key, so even if they weren’t around, I planned to just let myself in.
I went first to my room to drop my bags and that’s when I saw my parents fucking on my bed. Their excuse was that they sprayed their bedroom and didn’t know I would be back so soon. I slept in the living room throughout my stay in their house and moved out the next month. That way, they can do whatever they want on all the pieces of furniture in their house. I didn’t need to know my parents had sex. I still don’t want to even imagine that they have sex. Both of them are over fifty; why are they still fucking?
When I was 10 years old and was living in a room and parlour self-contained with my parents, we had a potty we used at night instead of going outside to the toilet. The potty was in the bedroom where my parents slept, while the children slept in the parlour.
One night, I woke up and entered the bedroom to go pee. That’s when I saw my dad on top of my mum, doing what I didn’t know at the time because I didn’t really understand sex then. Plus I was also very sleepy. They didn’t stop when I entered the room and their faces looked funny, but I just went to pee.
I can never ever forget the look on their faces. The next day, they made a rule that whenever we wanted to enter the room, we must knock first.
– Tosin
[donation]
Attending boarding school in Nigeria is an extreme sport. The long time effect it largely has on people is often time not spoken about enough. Some people have good memories of their boarding school experience, while some are still living with the trauma from it, many years later. Here are stories of some unforgettable experiences a few Nigerians faced in boarding school.
John
When I was in JSS 1 someone messed up the senior toilet with stool. It was spattered everywhere. The seniors got really angry and asked all my classmates in that hostel to pick a portion and show them before observing our real punishment. I had to use a broomstick to pick my portion. It was a really disgusting experience – definitely one of my worst boarding school experiences.
TW: Sexual harassment
Joe
When I was in JSS3, a senior of mine in SS3 had given me one of his things to hold for him and I misplaced it. When I told him I had misplaced it, he forced me to masturbate in front of him. I didn’t know what masturbation was at the time, till he showed me how to do it. He said that was my punishment for misplacing his stuff. I still hate him to this day.
Lily
I had a lot of bad experiences, but one of them had to be when a boy in the same class as my room prefect was trying to ask me out. He was sweet, bought me nice things like chocolates and chivita, but I wasn’t interested at all (kinda hated boys and was low-key afraid). I tried to reject them and send them back to him, only to find them in my bag or on my bed.
My room prefect decided to take it upon herself to make my life a living hell. She couldn’t believe a boy in her class like me. I had to move to my cousin’s hostel to avoid my room perfect, but I got unlucky one day when she saw me in her hostel. She asked me to sit on the floor with my legs and arms stretched out at shoulders height, she placed lots of textbooks on them and told me not to drop my hands or let any book fall. I stayed there for about 2 hours or 3. I went from being in intense pain to numb.
Eddy
Image used for descriptive purpose.
I had a classmate who always smoked weed – he would smoke and become insane and uncontrollable. Every time he smoked and became and became uncontrollable, he would pick on any junior who had previously offended him and beat them. One day, he beat a junior so badly, the boy could not go to school for almost a week because he couldn’t walk.
The event still haunts me because I always wish I tried to stop him – but I didn’t. It’s one of the few events I would change in my life if I had a time machine.
Maria
Image used for descriptive purpose.
I went to a Catholic secondary school in Nigeria. If you were not a prefect, you get assigned chores to you. The chores varied from sweeping surroundings to cleaning laundry and any other tasks you can think of. I was assigned to clean the laundry.
One night, the people who were assigned to laundry duty were not around and I had to do it all by myself. I spent a lot of time cleaning the laundry and couldn’t get done in time for night prayer. I was taking a shower after finishing my task when the Reverend sister came into the hostel – she saw me in the bathroom and immediately started to flog me.
She made sure I had no clothes on and continued to beat me. When she was done flogging me, she asked me to follow her outside the hostel, still naked. She took me out in the cold and told me to squat, all while naked. One of my friends had to beg on my behalf after I had been there for hours.
I was 13/14 years old when this happened.
Oreofe
I was accused of stealing my roommates’ money that went missing when we were in SS1. Whenever I walked by, and any of my roommates were there, they’d start singing “beware of her, she is a thief”. They eventually found out that a girl from JSS3 was going room to room stealing peoples’ money. She was severely punished. My roommates found the money she accused me of stealing inside her socks.
Amara
The worst thing that happened to me in boarding school was the day I was given the ‘pig of the day’ tag. The tag was usually given to the person they considered the dirtiest. I was taking my English lesson when they came to call me out to put the tag on. When I refused to wear it, they dragged me, beat me and took me around the school, from class to class, all while beating me. I became a bully in senior school, I was the bullied person who went on to become a bully.
I still suffer from self-esteem issues to this day – issues that started from my time in the boarding house.
Keziah
I used to be really chatty, loud and confident till I got to boarding school. When I got to boarding school I was always told to tone it down and keep quiet. I got used to being quiet, I didn’t realize it had taken a hit on confidence. It affected my confidence till 2018.
I got bullied a lot by my mates and my juniors, I also suffered from sexual harassment from my juniors and seniors. I always knew I was queer, but for a long time, my sexuality felt like abuse to me because of the amount of sexual harassment I dealt with in boarding school.
My mates from secondary school try to reach out to me, but I do not respond or reciprocate. I am still healing from a lot of trauma I experienced in boarding school. I told my parent about what I was going through while in boarding school, but they dismissed it because they had good experiences in their own time.
Missy
Right before WAEC, I found all my books soaked in a bucket of water under my bed. To this day, I don’t know who did it. I always suspected a friend of mine, but the suspicion was never confirmed. I wonder what I did, that could make someone do something so wicked to me. Of all my bad boarding school experiences, that’s the worst one and the most unforgettable.
Nina
One night, I was gisting with my friends, we were actually gossiping about another friend of ours who was also in the room when we heard a knock on the door. We all ignored the knock because we thought it was a random senior who was knocking on the door till we heard the knock again. This time, it was senior we were all afraid of that was knocking at the door.
The senior got really upset that we locked the door and she decided to punish all of us in the room. She asked around for who locked the door and my name came up multiple times. I have no recollection of locking the door, but I served the longest punishment of my life. I was punished for so long, she also threatened to have me sleep under her bunk. Thankfully, my friend informed the house mistress and that was how I got released from punishment. I still do not remember locking that door.
I think we can agree that Lagos is stressful.
I have this theory that people who live in Lagos aren’t scared of the idea of going to hell because Lagos already has a lot in common with the underworld.
People who use the state’s public transport system have it a lot worse. They go through a lot of traumatic stuff just trying to move around.
Traumatic stuff like:
1) Having to sit on a bus with zero legroom.
It’s worse when you tell yourself that you’ll manage because it’s a short journey. Then you encounter traffic that adds an extra hour to your commute, forcing you to fold your legs like collapsible furniture longer than you planned.
2) The discomfort of having your knee up someone’s ass (or having someone’s knee up your ass) because there’s no legroom in the bus.
It’s worse when you both get off at the same stop and there’s no way for both of you to avoid the awkwardness.
3) The conductor’s armpit grazing your face while he stretches to collect money from other passengers.
I get it. Conductors are under the sun all day and can’t help but sweat. But SWEET JESUS! THE STENCH CAN RAISE THE DEAD! And having them rub armpit sweat across your face? Might as well slice that patch of skin off. This also goes for those passengers who smell.
4) Trying to make the best of your journey by eating Gala and yoghurt but a self-proclaimed medicine man starts talking loudly about how his sketchy-looking drug can cure staphylococcus (and the white discharge that comes with it).
Kill me now.
5) Having a preacher scream at you about how you’re going to burn in hell for all eternity if you don’t heed their warningand stop doing bad things.
It’s even worse when you’re on the bus because you’re on your way to sin.
