Ama Udofa, Author at Zikoko!

In this special edition of the A Week in the Life series, we ask professionals what people don’t understand or appreciate about their job.

We explore the common stereotypes around certain jobs and celebrate the hard work people put in to win their daily bread. These are our favourite replies.

Banker

People think [Nigerian] bankers are broke, but we aren’t. You earn fairly well if you’re not a contract staff. A week in my life involves meetings for our digital products, business and marketing meetings, reviewing designs, sending out briefs and endless marketing strategy documents. The first thing I do during salary week is settle my PiggyVest and splurge on my mum.

Pastor

People expect me to be an assistant God who’s always available and perfect. They can’t deal with the fact that Pastor can’t always come to name their child, visit them at the hospital, pick up their calls at odd times, heal them of sicknesses, meet all the financial needs they discussed with him, etc. They also find it awkward that Pastor can get angry, tempted and broke.

There was a time my wife had a miscarriage and needed to be admitted for days in the hospital. Members still called me for prayers and assistance. All I got was, “Heeya. Sorry, sir. It is well.” Nobody thinks pastors need prayer, encouragement or financial support.

A typical week involves meetings, prayers and services. On Sundays, I fast and host Sunday service in church. I rest on Mondays and enjoy quality family time. For the rest of the week, I visit members and prepare my sermons.

Human resources manager (HR)

People often think HR’s primary job is to hire and fire people, so if you want to get a job in a company, just send them your CV and the job is yours. They also believe HRs are superhuman and emotionless people. But since we’re exposed to many issues that require us to keep secrets, we can break down just like others employees.

Also, we don’t hire and fire. We guide hiring managers through the process of identifying the best candidates and support them along the way. HR has no authority to hire or fire anyone; that’s usually a joint conversation between two or more parties.

Chief Executive Officer (CEO)

People simply don’t understand that we never have time.

Tech Journalist

People always think the media should be a PR extension of the tech ecosystem. But the ecosystem is still nascent and the media is expected to be its cheerleader, so I understand. A typical week in my life involves way too many calls and meetings, chasing deadlines and pursuing people who’d rather not talk to me.

Salesperson

People just think salespeople are naturally extroverted. Outside of work, I’m an introvert. I don’t like being in positions where I need to ask people for things. But because I’m a salesperson, I have to create a separate character while at work, be friendly and light rooms up. All the while, I really just want to make money, go home and take off my mask.

I’m a team leader, so a typical week in my life is defined by planning, management meetings and team check-ins. I also spend a lot of time pitching to clients, chasing after people who’re ignoring me or owing me. I’m usually drained by Wednesday because I’m always working extra hours.

Graphic artist

One thing people don’t understand or appreciate about my job is the extensive research that goes into creating a logo or drawing an illustration. Most people think it’s just to “press computer” or it takes less than a day to complete, but nothing could be further from the truth. To work on a design project, I often have to spend hours researching and gathering source materials. Sometimes, I pay for information if Google or Wikipedia doesn’t have enough. I also travel a lot, especially if I need to experience an environment, culture or architecture. One time, I went to Timbuktu while I was drawing backgrounds for an animated project.

People greatly underrate the amount of work a single design or illustration can take. And a few people believe I need money to start a project just because I’m designing on my laptop. A typical week in my life has me working three days of intense focused work then lazying around playing video games, watching anime and just chilling. This life na one.

Data analyst

You’d think my days involve sitting in front of multiple screens, analysing and visualising large data sets or doing some complicated maths shit. Sike. About 45% of my working hours go to mundane stuff like attending meetings. Some days are exciting; many, not so much.

People also underestimate the amount of time analysts spend doing research, especially in Nigeria because most times, na you go find the data you wan analyse. You’ll also need to know how to write and speak well because we do a lot of communication.

People think I’m a baller, but in my first data analyst role, I was being paid ₦‎60k. This was around 2019. My last salary was around ₦‎750k (I’m in between jobs now). So the idea that we get paid loads of money is not entirely true. You can land a good gig from the first go or you can progress through roles to get to one.

Public health worker

Many people expect because I work in a non-governmental organisation, I touch people’s lives and change the world. The truth is a huge part of community development is drudgery, boring repetitive administrative tasks. People over-glamourise the work. Leading policy formulation and getting the Nigerian government to enact helpful policies reads well on paper. In reality, it just means dealing with politicians and government officials who don’t give a shit.

There’s also the idea that we have plenty money. Na lie. Because it’s an extremely specialised field, you must’ve worked for many years and gotten advanced degrees before you start to touch money. Will I confess this on LinkedIn? No. A typical week in my life involves planning and a shitload of meetings with government officials while keeping my temper in check.

Computer Village vendor

People think we make huge amounts off each gadget sale, so we have a lot of money to throw about. Shey you dey whyne me? I won’t blame them sha. It’s the people who are “carting” I blame. Carting is when Yahoo boys get iPhones through their “clients”, and since they’re only after money, sell them to gadget vendors at a low cost. The vendors then sell to buyers at market rates, so you can imagine the profit.

I heard that a Computer Village vendor was killed at a party early this year [2022] because he was carting. The market is filled with fraudsters. Sellers don plenty pass buyers.

A week in my life involves selling gadgets, tracking orders, surviving the chaos of Computer Village and praying to God to avoid problem customers.

Thrift vendor

People assume thrift clothes are bad quality. But I’ve managed to change my customers’ perceptions. They can be clean and classy, as some of the clothes come with tags while some are in branded packaging.

A typical week in my life goes like this:

Mondays: I travel from Abeokuta to Lagos to stock up on new arrivals. Then, I go to the park to dispatch previous orders nationwide.

Tuesday: I sort the clothes I’ll sell for the week and iron them.

Wednesdays: I take photos of new arrivals, attach their prices and post them on my social media pages. This process takes about six to eight hours.

Thursdays: I send out new orders for deliveries. Later, I iron the clothes I’ll post on Friday.

Friday: I snap the remaining clothes, attach their sizes and post them on my page.

Saturday: I take inventory, balance my books and sort out new orders ahead of Monday.

Sunday: I post more new arrivals. In the evenings, I rest or go out to catch my breath.

Creative strategist

“Ah, so you design and make videos. Like, the ‘creative’ things”. In reality, my role covers everything from market intelligence and research to program design, stakeholder engagement and more. When I try to explain stakeholder engagement, people reduce it to “public relations” or “Na just PR na”. I facepalm every time.

I work from home except on Tuesdays, so a typical week in my life is simple. Monday to Friday: work, work, work. Saturdays: movies, washing, cooking, and sometimes, more work. Sundays: church, cooking and work.About a year ago, weekends were my opportunity to take photos for fun and edit them for fun. But I’ve found going out more tedious than usual. But what I never skip is listening to music at night. I’m an audiophile, so listening to good music on good devices matters.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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

Gomoney simplifies money for everyone. Learn more

24-year-old Feyi* has been dating her boyfriend for six years. They met in 100 level in 2017 and survived university as a couple. In 2022, they have limited incomes, but Feyi is confident they’re set for a comfortable financial future. Read her #LoveCurrency below.

Occupation and location

Hairstylist in Ibadan

Average monthly income

₦‎30k salary. She also sells wigs on the side, and on a really good week, makes up to ₦‎50k in sales. Monthly sales can take her total earnings up as high as ₦‎250k. But on average, it falls closer to ₦‎100k.

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Data subscriptions: ₦‎18k

Food: ₦30k. She gets free food from her employer but has to eat out sometimes when there are delays.

Transportation: ₦12k

Miscellaneous (includes black tax, vanity purchases, self-care, etc): ₦50k

Boyfriend allowance: Minimum of ₦15k. He’s still in uni, and she’s already working

*No rent because her employer provides her with accommodation

How did you meet your boyfriend?

We met on a group chat while we were trying to gain admission into university in 2016. He was always putting mouth in everything in the group. Me, I was always like, “What’s wrong with this one sef?” He slid into my DMs one day because my profile picture was a baby — he loves babies. We started talking, and I got to know he was at Yabatech and doing an internship. He wasn’t even expecting to get admitted into OAU, but eventually, we both did. We got along really well and started dating officially when we met on campus.

How were your finances then?

I’d already learnt to make wigs. I’ve always been a hustler, to be honest, so I’ve always had small change in my pocket. My boyfriend earned ₦7k from the internship, but he’s also into graphic design and did freelancing gigs, although his money wasn’t as steady as mine.

I also made wigs, which wasn’t as popular in 2017 as it is in 2022, and earned ₦3k in profit per wig. We didn’t have much, but we lived within our means, and people thought we did. When his ₦7k came in, he’d buy foodstuff, and when you have food, nobody will know you don’t have money. I’d also cook in my hostel and take to him.

Ahn ahn. Campus couple

Yes o. Six years is not beans. I’ve left him there sha. My course was four years while his is five. ASUU is just doing him anyhow.

So you don’t live in the same city

No. I only recently moved to Ibadan because I was tired of all the Lagos stress. Plus, my current job in Ibadan promised the same pay but with free accommodation and feeding. Even when I lived in Lagos, we only saw three times. He’s currently on an extended industrial attachment at a startup firm in Magboro due to ASUU strike. I was living in Igando and working at Ikotun. It was still a long distance.

How did you guys run the relationship sturvs?

I used to work six days a week at a hair salon and have my off days on Wednesday. When I wanted to see him, I’d give my boss an excuse to move my off day to that weekend. I’d tell him I was ill or having cramps or that I needed to see my parents.

Lying to go and see man

LOL. It’s not easy jare. And this “seeing” takes serious planning ahead because we couldn’t just stay indoors looking at ourselves after so long, but we also don’t have much money, and my boyfriend is extremely meticulous with spending. No penny leaves his pocket without being accounted for, while I know how to spend. That’s why I think we’ll make a good husband and wife.

Tell me about the last time you saw him

We met in August [2022], and he paid for everything. Of course, I had my money ready, but I didn’t even touch it. I was surprised because he only really spends on necessities. But he’d been saving for the last two months and really wanted to see me, so I lied to my boss as usual. I think that one knows it’s man I want to go and see sef, but he won’t say anything.

My boyfriend also does interior decor, and earlier, he’d painted my boss’ salon and earned ₦25k from it, after transport and feeding expenses. When my boss opened a bigger salon, my boyfriend got the contract to paint it and received ₦150k. He renewed his rent on campus and invited me to spend the weekend with him in Lagos. He booked a hotel for two nights (₦10k per night) in Ogudu. The first night, we ate at The Place (₦4k). The next night, we went to dinner and spent ₦15k.

He took danfo back to Ikorodu while I took Uber (₦2,500) to Igando. It was the most expensive date we’ve had. Usually, we go sightseeing and do things that don’t cost much but still helps us make memories. The Ogudu stay was our last date before I moved to Ibadan.

How much does your boyfriend make in a month, on average?

About ₦70k. Added to his monthly stipend of ₦20k, he does graphic design, charges about ₦5–7k per design and can get up to five gigs in a month. He also paints rooms (₦10-15k per room) and does interior design work (upwards of ₦20k).

What kind of conversations do you have with your boyfriend about money?

It’s usually about the way I spend. I can’t lie. I like nice things. I like to reward myself. Sometimes, I feel like he should understand because I don’t pressure him to buy me these things. He should be happy I’m spending my own money but he keeps telling me to save more. Sometimes, I agree with him sha; I’m trying.

How much do you save on average, per month?

I put ₦10k in a savings app. LOL, now that I say it, I’m not proud of myself. But I’ll start saving more now that I’m in Ibadan, since I’m not spending much on transport and my employer provides free accommodation and feeding. So help me God.

Have your spending habits ever caused problems?

A lot of times o. In fact, it’s even the cause of our major fights. I can’t count how many pairs of heels I have, but when I see another colour or style that calls my name, I’ll want to buy. He’ll now be saying that I should’ve saved the money. I dont like when he does that. I know he’s trying to look out for me, but I should be allowed to spend my money anyhow I want. It’s not easy to make it.

Anyway, sometimes, when I’ve squandered my money, it’s him I fall back on. I won’t ask him o, but he’ll know his girl is broke. So he’ll have to take out of his savings or deprive himself of some things just so he can come through for me.

How do you guys resolve such conflicts?

I can’t bear to fight with him, so I usually apologise and promise I won’t do it again. And then, he’ll be like, ehn, he knows I’ll still do it o, but it’s not like he’s not telling me not to buy things, but I should buy things I don’t already have. That one is not even possible. Ehn, I have wig now, but what if I want another colour? I’ve tried to hold back, and I’m still trying sha.

The funny thing is when I give him random gifts, he doesn’t complain. Imagine o. If I see something I know he’d like, I’d buy for him. And they’re usually expensive because how much am I earning? If I spend ₦20-30k on a man, I count it as expensive. He won’t complain; he’ll collect it. If I now spend like that on myself, problem.

I think the reason he doesn’t like me spending so much is because he doesn’t have plenty money himself. He’s still in university, and it’s me who normally sends him money. But I feel like when he’s done with school and starts making more money, he won’t bother me so much.

Do you have a financial safety net?

Yes. I saved ₦120k last year in a locked savings app I can’t access until the next two years. I’m on track to reach ₦240k this year. I’m saving to open my own hair salon, and from my research, I need at least ₦500k. ₦250k should get me a room and parlour self-con in Ife for a year. I already have most of my equipment; I just need a salon chair (₦50k), washbasin (₦30k), mirror and interior decor. The money will get me started, and as time goes on, I’ll put more things in place.

I also have kolo for rainy days. Anytime I sell one hair, I save ₦5k from my profit. That one, I can break it if I ever get stranded.

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

One where we’re both earning enough to comfortably sustain us. My boyfriend’s handwork promises to give him a lot of money. Mine is also promising. We don’t have to be stinky rich; I just want to be able to afford as many wigs and shoes as I want and decide not to go to work and not feel guilty.

When my boyfriend finishes school, I know he’ll build something for himself. It’s just money to start that’s the koko. If he has a day job and an interior decorating company on the side where he can even open a store to stock decor products. It looks very lucrative and I see him as a rich man in future.

READ NEXT: What’s Dating in Port Harcourt Like, on a ₦325k Combined Monthly Income?

If you’re interested in talking about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start. We’re willing to keep your identity anonymous.

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

In 2018, Tayyiba* married Faruk* after praying every night for God to return him to her when he ghosted for two years. Now, Tayyiba tells Zikoko how she’s enjoying married life in Kano on a ₦150k monthly income.

Image source: Pexels (Actual interview subjects are anon*)

Occupation and location

Multimedia journalist. Lives in Kano.

Average monthly income

₦150k per month: basic salary of ₦80k, freelance writing gigs on the side pay anywhere from ₦20–200k. Her husband sends between ₦40–100k, depending on her monthly commitments or how much she earns from side gigs.

If she runs out of money, she just takes more from his wallet as her “spirit leads.”

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Data: ₦25k

Subscriptions: Around ₦5k; she shares some streaming apps with friends

*Household feeding: She contributes ₦40–45k. Around ₦10k per week

Healthy snacks: ₦20k

Black tax: About ₦20k to mumsi

Child’s savings account: ₦10k

Savings: Between ₦20–40k. Although, sometimes, black tax eats into it

*Her husband covers remaining household expenses

How did you meet your husband?

We grew up as neighbours but started dating when I was about 19 — then we broke up. Our parents didn’t want us married cause of tribal differences, but somehow, we reconnected in 2016. By that time, I suppose we’d both become family rogues. In 2017, we were engaged without their blessings. In 2018, they came on board, and we got married.

How did you reconnect?

Prayer, actually. I was really heartbroken when he… just left me. I tried all I could to reconnect, but he didn’t budge. So I started to pray at night. I kept asking God to help me forget him if he was bad for me. Or give him to me if it was His will.

In 2016, I won a trip to Nairobi, posted about it on LinkedIn and noticed he’d checked out my profile. He started liking my posts on Facebook again. Then he sent a message on WhatsApp… a causal “Good afternoon” as if we were some old acquaintances catching up. I told him to state his business or get out, please.

Guy said he wanted me, and he was ready to do anything, including eloping together.

Hollup. Tell me about the breakup

In 2014, my parents wanted to arrange for me to a family friend’s son, a young Airforce officer — we still talk to date. Shebi I would’ve been travelling all over the world, spending airforce money by now. But I said I’m not ready to marry until after school o. Plus, I told them I have husband already. They said, “Who?” I said, “Faruk*”.

Popsi didn’t want anything to do with Faruk because he’s not from our tribe, but he later gave in. My parents said I should ask him to send his people to come and make a small commitment, a formal engagement, so everyone will know we’re just waiting till I graduate. Faruk said okay, went home and ghosted me.

Ah—

Toh, he just became scarce, leaving me with shame in front of my parents. They were now like, where’s the boy you were fighting to be with na? Hard girl like me fa?

That must have hurt. How come you kept praying for him?

No one had ever supported or understood me the way he did — and still does. I met many men after him, but none supported my dreams the way he did. For a Northern girl who isn’t particularly mely, that’s a big deal. So when he slid into my DMs for a second chance and apologised, it was easy to forgive him. But I didn’t take him seriously until he proposed not long after.

Just like that? Did he tell you why he ghosted?

Yes o. He’s a people pleaser, so he couldn’t bring himself to break up with me to my face because his parents initially didn’t like the idea of him getting married to me. We had a lot of conversations, and he convinced me that family would no longer be a problem. In all honesty, they’ve been very respectful and kind since then. He apologised and swore he was serious this time even if we had to elope.

A finished man

Yes o. We thank God. It’s been four years, and the only thing he won’t do for me is what isn’t in his power.

How much does he earn?

His salary is about ₦400k, but he has other sources that raise his income to around ₦600–700k.

So how do y’all run the finances?

He’s a very busy person, so I tend to focus on sending him meals at work to ensure he eats. But every year, I save up around ₦100k to buy him gifts for his birthday and our anniversary. The money comes from my side hustle. I put aside any extra cash I get for his clothes because if I leave him, he can wear the same things he’s had for ten years.

He covers the heavy stuff like rent, which is ₦400k per annum. He covers 80% of our food costs — about ₦150k monthly because food is cheap in the North — 80% of our medical costs, 50% of clothing costs for our two kids and 20% of my clothing costs. I use percentages because these costs aren’t fixed. We often buy on impulse, especially the babies’ clothes. I know he saves ₦100k every month and sends ₦50k to our kids’ accounts. I send ₦40k to this account — let it not be like their mother doesn’t care, LOL.

How much do you budget for romanzz?

We haven’t been able to vacation together, sadly. They want to use work to kill him — and also, he has aerophobia. But he buys me a lot of abayas. Each one costs ₦20-25k, and I get like 12 a year.

We watch at least one movie together weekly and sneak suya and drinks into the cinema hall so we don’t spend more than ₦5k in total. Once every month, we go on a date and spend ₦15k max; there are really cool and affordable leisure places in Kano. Sometimes I pay for the dates, and most times, he does. When we watch films indoors, we just buy ₦5k suya, eat to our hearts’ content and freeze whatever remains.

Before the children, we used to do staycations every once in a while. We’d check into a cool hotel (₦20–25k per night) and spend the weekend eating mostly junk because those staycations were for sex. Good old childless days…

What changed?

We can’t just up and leave; I’d have to plan and get trusted people to babysit. I’d also have to pump milk (God, I hate pumping milk). And I worry every time I’m away from my babies. So I’m not sure I can staycation without guilt.

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

Our needs, savings and investments in our personal developments and in money-making ventures. We talk about feeding costs, medicine costs and doctors’ appointments. And don’t forget black tax — very important. We discuss how much we can give out.

He has investments with his siblings as well. I have two lands — one from my dad; the second was part of my bride price — so we make plans on how to develop them. I also have a farm the floods helped me wash away. I got it with my sister and had high hopes for it.

Rough. Is it rescuable?

I honestly don’t know. I’ll just let my sister worry about it for now. I’m focusing on my family. May God have mercy.

Amin. Tell me about the personal development you invest in

My husband takes some courses and exams to boost his career, and they don’t come cheap, so we have to plan around them. Being a doctor is expensive. For the last one, he had to go to Lagos. He bought return flight tickets (₦200k, no thanks to Buhari) and stayed for almost two weeks to study with his mates — hotel and feeding cost around ₦10k per day. Then the exam itself was over ₦200K, including the registration fees. Because he hates planes, he fell ill afterwards — nausea, diarrhoea and others — so we spent another ₦10k on treatments. It’s also why we can’t go on vacations, before he’ll start vomiting when we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.

As for me, I have my eyes set on fashion school, which’ll cost ₦150k, but this man wants to force me to finish my master’s first. I’m focusing on my research so I can be done with it soon — if ASUU will let me.

Has the income gap between you two ever been an issue?

Initially, I was super conscious of it and picked fights because I thought he was using the fact that he had money to run away from chores. When we married, I was busy doing housegirl work they didn’t send me to do. He thought I enjoyed cleaning. I thought he was leaving the domestic chores to me. I found a way to link it to him not respecting me because I don’t earn much.

We got to know each other better as time went on though. So we got a house help and laundry man. We also discovered my ego is big, and I don’t like to beg, so he just sends me money and leaves his wallet and debit card within reach.

Ahn ahn. Intentional man

LMAO he likes taking care of me. But I want a better job with a stable income that’s high enough to be less dependent. I need more money so I can save more to develop those lands and explore other investment opportunities.

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

Toh, our ideal financial future is to get out of this country. We plan to japa in the next three to four years through him. Hopefully, I get a job as a dependent first, then later, as a resident. We’re looking at Canada or Australia. I’ll then try to go into real estate wherever we land.

I’m certain my husband will return home to take another wife after his finances are more flexible.

Wait—

He wants lots of kids for some reason. Me, if I will born again, highest one more. We agreed on polygamy before we got married; it’s in our marriage contract. I just won’t stay in the same house with another woman. We also agreed I’ll get vacations when I’m feeling “jealous”. Of course, it’s all under the condition that he’s financially able to fund them.

Oh wow

I don’t mind polygamy; I don’t believe in owning anybody. He sort of knows he doesn’t own me either, and he’s made peace with it. I may step out; he just doesn’t want to know.

READ NEXT: Married Life in Uyo, Akwa Ibom, on a ₦2.3m Monthly Income

If you’re interested in talking about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start. We’re willing to keep your identity anonymous.

Yes, interview me!
The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In this series, we get into what dating across income brackets is like in different Nigerian cities.

Onome* is a 21-year-old polyamorous lover who spends recklessly on her partners because her love language is gift-giving. In this interview, she tells Zikoko how money moves in and out of her relationships, while on a ₦400k monthly income and an envious financial safety net.

Editor’s note: The interview subject is a woman in a polyamorous relationship with a non-binary person.

Occupation and location

Content creator and student (but also, fine girl). Lives around Ifo, Ogun State

Average monthly income

Salary is ₦200k

Allowance from parents: minimum of ₦200k

Only occasionally does freelance writing because, one, she doesn’t need the extra money, two, she doesn’t like stress. But once in a while, she gets bored. Her last gig paid ₦50k for a story.

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Data: ₦20k. That’s my only recurring expense.

You say?

Oh, and skincare too, like ₦35k a month. That’s it.

My total recurring expenses is ₦55k monthly.

Why so few expenses?

I live with my parents, and I’m an only child. I don’t pay for shit. Instead, I ask. Usually, my dad gives me like ₦100k and says if I need more, I should just ask. I always ask for more because I’m greedy. Also, I don’t pay for transport because my parents drive me. I have a car, but I don’t use it because I don’t have a license.

Sometimes, people dash me money as per fine girl privileges, but most times, I don’t even collect it; then they offer to buy me things or pay for stuff — like, let me pay for your flight, let me pay for your hotel. I don’t like collecting money from men. I do it, but I don’t like it.

What do you spend the money on?

Anything I feel like, mainly clothes and shoes when I decide to go outside. Or gifts for people and donation to good causes.

How did you meet your partner?

We met on Twitter in 2019. I was in a relationship then; they were seeing someone too. We followed each other, and one day in December, they tweeted that they felt like calling someone. I volunteered to be called. We started talking every day. My relationship ended, their relationship ended, and we got together.

Just like that?

We’d been talking for seven months when I broke up with my ex. But my current partner’s relationship was complicated, and I tried to help them uncomplicate it. I liked them, but omo, a seven-month talking stage?

In July 2020, I told them they didn’t know what they wanted, so I would find someone who did. They went, “Okay, wait. Can you like, relax?” We talked it over and decided to start dating. I’m gay, and it’s not my fault I’m very lovable.

Energy. Okay, how were your finances then?

Trenches o. Enough to give me PTSD. Asides allowances, I was earning ₦50k as an intern, and they were earning zero while looking for a job. We managed like that until one year later, they got employed, and I got promoted. We both earn ₦200k salaries now — omo, we’ve come a long way, LMAO.

How did you guys manage?

We’re students, and it was in the middle of the pandemic. it’s not like we could do anything. My love language is gift-giving, so I bought them gifts.

On a ₦50k salary?

The problem people have when they hear “gift-giving” is they don’t understand it’s not about the price of the gifts but the thought behind them. Sometimes, it’s knowing what your partner likes and getting them things tailored to it.

I don’t wear wigs because I’ve never seen the need for them. If someone buys me a wig, they’re wasting their money. Sure, wigs are expensive gifts, but they mean nothing to me. Lip gloss, on the other hand, is something I can’t do without. One of my favourite lip glosses costs me ₦1k; buying me that would mean way more to me than a wig.

I’d buy my partner socks, for example, because they love socks.

Sweet. So how did your relationship survive the pandemic?

I saw other people o. I’m polyamorous and have always known I can’t be with one person. Also, we live in different cities. I live in Ogun State while they live in Lagos. They had to get used to the idea. They could be worried shitless about my whereabouts, and I’d be smoking weed with naked women.

Hollup—

Yep, I even got into another relationship. I’m an extrovert; I love making new friends, meeting new people and going on dates. My partner is an introvert; they never really talked to people or went out much before we met.

How did they take it?

They took it well actually. They’ve always known I’m poly. I’d told them while we were just talking as friends. My previous relationship was open, so I wasn’t going to have a closed relationship with them.

So you taught them polyamory or…?

No. I shared my view with them — if your heart can understand it’s possible to love all your friends, family members, etc., why not multiple partners? They fucked with it. They were sha happy as long as I was happy, and they eventually started talking to someone else as well.

How’s that going?

LMAO, I literally tried to matchmake them with someone this afternoon. They said they don’t have the energy.

30+ alert

LMAO, they’re 23, but that’s my old baby. In their words, “There’s love at home, please.” They think there’s too much rubbish outside. I fall in love every two to three business days, then they say, “It’s hard because they return you to me broken.” They’re a much more poetic writer than I am, SMH.

Aww. Walk me through expenses on a typical staycation

When I visit Lagos, we either stay in a hotel, or I rent a short-let apartment for around ₦75k if I’m staying up to two weeks. If I’m on the island, hotel is ₦25k a night; mainland is ₦15-20k. We go halfsies on food, transportation, edibles and alcohol. Food alone costs about ₦15k for three meals a day.

We rarely go out, so no transportation expenses. We just sit indoors all day, watching movies and stuff after work — we both work remotely.

Last month, we matched on a dating app, and they asked me out even though we were already dating, LMAO. So we got high and went to play games at Rufus and Bees, Lekki. The games cost like ₦10k, and I won all because I’m the best in gaming. After that, we went to an art gallery and had pizza and ice cream. Transport fare cost around ₦10k too. Then we ended the night in a hotel room. It was the best time ever, and I couldn’t stop talking about it. I also didn’t keep track of all the costs because my partner paid for everything — one of the very rare times they’ve splurged.

About splurging, what’s your spending habit like?

They think I’m an impulsive spender. I have more money than them, but do you know I’m the broke one? My partner is very calculative with their money, and they only spend according to order of importance and shit like that. Me, if I see it, I like it, and I want it? It’s mine. I used to sleep with my debit card under my pillow, so if I had a bad dream, I’d wake up and buy something online. I often spend way past my budget too because I love to spend money on people I love. And I like multiple people, so I buy them all gifts.

Has this ever caused conflicts?

Nope. They know not to pocket-watch me. It’s my money.

Do you have a financial safety net?

I save 25% of my earnings, but my daddy is my financial safety net.

Can you shed more light?

Yep. My daddy is my backup plan. He even says it. I’m a director in all his businesses, and they buy land and other grand stuff in my name. Honestly, my future is set, and I can decide never to work again.

So why do you?

It’s simple. I like to work; it gives me a sense of freedom. Yesterday, my dad asked me what I wanted for christmas, and it’s still October. My dad is my plug for everything — heck, he once told me if I wanted to quit my job, he’d pay me my salary. I said no. I chose suffering.

What’s your ideal future for you and your partner(s)?

I don’t care much for being wealthy as the concept of wealth is a big meh for me. I just want to have an apartment my partners can come and visit me in once in a while. I have women to take care of, so I need money for that.

I try my best with what I have now. I send them money, buy them gifts, feed them. But I want to get to the point where if someone says, “Baby, my car is bad.” I can respond with, “Okay, take this ₦200k and manage. Don’t be upset.” I can’t wait to have my daddy’s kind of money. When I think about it, he’s a sugar daddy sha. It makes sense that I learnt work from him.

*subject’s name has been changed to protect her identity.

*This interview has been edited for structure and clarity.

If you’re interested in talking (anonymously) about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start.

Yes, interview me!
The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In this series, we get into what dating across income brackets is like in different Nigerian cities.

After eight years in the streets, 34-year-old Michael Adebayo* finally decided to repent from his ashawo ways and settle down. He found his perfect match — where he’s a reckless spender, his wife is financially prudent. Now, he tells Zikoko how he’s enjoying married life on a ₦2.3m monthly income.

Image source: Canva (Actual interview subjects are anon*)

Average monthly income

₦1.9m salary; an average of ₦400k from investment and forex trading profits

Occupation and location

Oil and gas engineer. Lives and works in Uyo, Lagos and offshore

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Black tax: Around ₦360k

Rent: ₦400k (annually) for a two-bedroom apartment

Vacations: Around $10k (annually)

Savings: ₦960k converted to USD in mutual funds

Electricity bill: ₦30k

Feeding: ₦80k on average, but sometimes, it can get as high as ₦200k when they need to cook in bulk and stock up

Fuel: ₦30k

Miscellaneous: ₦400k; any leftovers go into the mutual funds

*His remaining income goes into forex investment

How did you meet your wife?

We first met in school and crushed on each other. People said she was a good girl. Me? They called me ashawo boy, and our mutual friends said I should carry my ashawo somewhere else, so I locked up. Then, she went and had a boyfriend. But seven years after I graduated, we met again at what I can only say was the right time, and there was no looking back.

Slow down a bit

Haha, okay. So in uni, I was in final year, and she was a fresher. Then after school, we lived in different cities — me in Uyo, she in Abuja — so we only kept in touch once in a while. Last year [2021], she relocated to Port Harcourt, and suddenly, we were much closer. She was single, I was single, and the distance was only a one-hour drive compared to flying from Uyo to Abuja.

I think she always knew I liked her from way back, and she liked me too. But, omo, I was “Mikano*” in school with a “hoe” reputation — she wouldn’t touch that with a nine-foot pole. When she met me again after all those years, I’d become a more put-together “Mr Michael*”. It was just right. I was tired of the streets, so we ended up together and dated for a year. God win.

LOL. What made you sure about committing this time?

My guy, it’ll sound cliché, but I was just convinced in my spirit. Everything that happened while we dated convinced me even more. I was free around her, learning and becoming a better person. We were both willing to change things about ourselves without needing the other person to push. I improved myself knowing it’d make her happy, and her happiness made me fulfilled. Omo, we just fit, abeg. We learnt from talking about things, resolved fights quickly and were very open about everything.

How much does your wife earn?

She earns ₦200k, but she has a forex investment that does a healthy extra ₦200k on average, each month. This was also what got me because my attitude to money changed after I met her. I saw this woman’s savings, what she’d done with her income, and heard her plans — she who hadn’t even earned up to what I had at the time. She’s such a hardworking woman, and that’s why even though we have our plan as a family, I work every day to ensure she meets her personal targets. I told her when we got engaged that I’ll die happy just knowing she can look back at her life and see I contributed to her growth.

Aww. So how do y’all run finances these days?

Bruh, my wife is the financially prudent one, so she manages the money. When I wanted to settle down, financial responsibility was one of the key traits I looked out for in a partner. Because, if you leave me, we go enjoy all the money to the end. All my savings (around 40% of my income) goes to her, and we have a joint account she manages. She also contributes 30% of her income to our USD savings and keeps the rest of it. I tease her and call myself “big woman husband” because she get money, abeg!

How much do you budget for relationship sturvs?

I wish we could go out more often, but not many places have cool aesthetics and good food in Uyo, so we mostly make do with indoors. We have shows we watch together, like The Flatmates, The Office and Brooklyn Nine-Nine. After work each day, we eat together, watch our show as long as we can, do some more work or study, gist and sleep off. Once every two months, we book a hotel to get away and enjoy the room-service treatment. And we spend an entire weekend chilling and clubbing. Akwa Ibom is a cheap place, so we don’t spend more than ₦100k over three days.

Earlier this year, we spent three weeks in Europe — Milan and Rome in Italy, Ibiza in Spain, Paris in France and Madeira, Portugal. We spent about ₦1.9m on flights. Hotels and sightseeing took about $3,700 because I wanted to spend money. I convinced madam to calm down and let me splurge. Then again, I’d made a huge profit from an investment, so I had extra convincing power. We stayed in suites with sea views at hotels in the city centres, food and drinks were all-inclusive. Shopping took another $3k. Costs could’ve been much less, but we just had to close eye and enjoy ourselves.

$3k on shopping ke; what did you buy?

Shoes, bro. Sneakers. Perfumes. Ah, don’t forget enjoyment black tax. I had to get something for everyone at home: my parents, her parents, siblings, etc.

We intend to travel out twice a year henceforth, on a $10k budget. Flight prices have gone up, but we try to hedge against inflation by saving in dollars. We’ll spend a lot less for our trip this December sha because madam said we should start saving for japa. But even though, we’ve decided the experience counts, so we must still go somewhere.

God, abeg. I don’t wanna be a mecha —

LMAO. It’s important to mention that the key thing for both of us is the experience and bond it builds between us. Our relationship was better after our vacation. We learnt so much about each other. Sometimes, always being in the same or familiar territory doesn’t give you a chance to question your relationship. The trips gave us the chance to experience our relationship differently, and the memories we created definitely strengthened our bond.

Plus, bro, we know say once pikin come, story go change. For gifts, I’m the giver, but she’s learning quickly too. She bribes me with turkey and juicy meat — gifts of love I can’t say no to, abeg.

(Wipes tear) What kind of conversations do you have with your wife about money?

We’re very open about finances. She knows how much I earn to the tee, and vice versa. We have an Excel sheet in which we track our spending (not to the tiniest details, of course).

We’ve discussed plans for kids and their welfare, which is also why our savings are dollar-denominated. I’m more of the risk taker while she’s more financially prudent. This dynamic makes us a team because we have the balance required to make the best choices of where to put money. We’ll know if it works over the next few years, I guess.

We also discuss black tax. How much goes home to my people, her people, people who ask for loans, etc. We’re very much open with these things. She’s the one who helped me set aside at least ₦50k every month to help people out. Once we’ve surpassed this figure, omo, it’s till next month to whoever asks — except in rare cases of emergency.

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Has the income gap ever been an issue?

Oh, yes. Initially, she believed because I earned a lot, I never listened to her financially prudent advice. Or sometimes, I would randomly talk about something in a way that rubbed her the wrong way because of [her] finances. But we resolve most of our issues with communication and financial openness. Also, we’ve both had to adjust to accommodate each other’s differences and bite our tongue on some occasions. There are times when I wanted to say, “Omo, spend this money naaaaa.”

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

Our hopes, plans and prayers are to get to a point where we both have investments that take care of ours and our kids’ needs whether we’re working or not. So if it takes, theoretically, ₦5m to take care of our needs and enjoyment, we have investments between us that cover at least 75% of it. Of course, we’ll have to adjust our lifestyle and hope there’s no mad medical emergency. Our plan isn’t foolproof or set in stone, and as we experience more and grow together, we’ll adjust.

Lovely. In the short term though, how are you planning for that life?

We have savings from our income, mutual funds, crypto (yeah, I know e dey red, but #wagmi), forex and a couple of other investments yielding different returns. We’ll continue to explore other ways to “aspire to perspire”.

Do you have a financial safety net?

There’s one ₦10m like that — some bonus they gave me in my first year at work. I just carried the money and dumped it in a bank account somewhere.

Most people would say you’re doing well, and it’s sweet to be a big boy in Naija, so why japa?

Honestly, first and foremost, children. It’ll give them a better start. Again, the “big boy” bubble can be punctured in a day. Bruh, one crazy government policy can wipe your entire safety net, one accident on a bad road that could’ve been fixed, etc. I mean, I know a counter-argument is nowhere is immune to bad things. But some bad things can be prevented yet we actively encourage them with the kind of leadership and society we have in Nigeria.

Also, big boy earning in naira is earning less and less each year due to inflation. I have bosses with wards abroad. Convert your naira to the galloping dollar to pay fees, and no amount of salary increase can match it.

Let me add that in my younger years as a Lagos boy, I absolutely loved the chaos, but not anymore. Living in a quieter city has killed that love. And when I travel abroad, I experience a kind of sanity I want long term.

In all honesty, the indices seem easier — we’re still young, not a lot of family burden, and we have enough experience to make an impact in any organisation we join abroad — so japa is the way. It’s only a matter of time.

READ NEXT: Co-habiting in Yaba, Lagos, on a ₦500k Monthly Income

If you’re interested in talking about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start. We’re willing to keep your identity anonymous.

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A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Fine artist Renike Olusanya has always excelled in art, but several years ago, when she got her first commission of ₦25k, she didn’t realise her life was about to change. In 2022, she’s illustrated for international brands and publishing houses and sold a tonne of remarkable art. She tells Zikoko how she navigates work-life balance as a freelance fine artist, her frustrations dealing with clients and how she’s focused on building friendships. This is her life in one week.

MONDAY

I used to sleep around 3 a.m. — which is normal for artists because we’re all messed up — but I don’t want again. These days, I try to sleep between 12 and 1 a.m. I believe in gradual changes as it’s more realistic to go from sleeping by 3 a.m. to 1 a.m. than 10 p.m. I usually wake up around 9 a.m, but today, I woke up at 6:30 for some reason, and it was hell.

I like to respond to my inquiries and emails on Sunday nights so I won’t be under too much pressure on Monday. I also schedule emails for different times of the day depending on the time zone of the recipient. First, I write a to-do list, eat breakfast and get to work. I just started eating breakfast two months ago because I’m trying to build lean muscle and maintain healthy habits.

I like to eat overnight oats, which is funny because I used to hate [cooked] oatmeal until I discovered the beauty of overnight oats. I make it by soaking rolled oats in oat milk with chia seeds, Greek yoghurt, grapes & peanut butter and storing it in the fridge overnight. So in the morning, I just wake up and eat. Sometimes, I eat it with fried eggs.

I work from home as an artist, so it can be difficult to get into work mode. I like to act like I’m going to work. When I’m done with breakfast, I freshen up, dress up formally and head to my home art studio for the rest of the day. By midday, I’m fully in work mode, and I work until 5 p.m., only pausing to stand up every hour when prompted by my Apple Watch. While working, I love listening to podcasts like The Archetypes by Meghan Markle and No Stupid Questions by Stephen Dubner and Angela Duckworth.

By 5 p.m., I get out of my work chair and change into gym clothes. I recently bought a treadmill I put in my studio because I neither have the strength for Lagos gyms nor a car to make daily trips. I also don’t like going out. I used to work morning till night without standing up. But that’s unhealthy, and I recently decided to become more physically active, I bought the treadmill and some dumbbells to work out in the evenings. I also do yoga until 7:45 p.m.

Renike’s home art Studio

Afterwards, my Mondays can go either of two ways. I either eat dinner, read articles or a book, scroll through Twitter and TikTok and watch a movie, or I go to Obi’s House at Hard Rock Cafe — but this is once in a blue moon. Tonight, I’m staying in my house. Before I go to bed, I love those quiet moments when I just apply skincare products to my face.

TUESDAY

It’s funny how people only notice you when you’re out there and seem to be doing well. Sometimes, I get so caught up in trying to move forward I forget how far I’ve moved from the early days of my career. But today, I woke up thankful. And while eating my overnight oats — I can’t get enough of it — I took a few moments to meditate on my journey.

In 2016, when I was in Unilag, someone reached out and asked me to supply prints of my artwork to a guest house. When the money entered my account — ₦500k — I was just looking at the alert like, I’ve used talent to escape the trenches o! Which is funny because my first commission was so random. I had a mentor — a pastor who used to encourage me. He commissioned me to paint his wife and paid me ₦25k.

My first book cover was also a commission from a friend. She paid ₦30k for the illustration, and I was more than happy to work on it because I loved everything about her poetry collection, from vision to execution. I kept creating and putting out my work and not long after, I got a gig that paid £500. Just imagine the gap. And then, the gigs just kept coming….

As I finished my oats and prepared for the day, I knew I was going to absolutely slay it.

WEDNESDAY

As a freelance fine artist, the nature of my job lacks structure, so I have to consciously decide to stick to a routine every day of the week, and a to-do list is my greatest tool. Knowing what to do before I start each day has helped my artistic process a lot because I track my activities and progress on projects for the day.

As a full-time fine artist, I draw what I like and sell them. Sometimes, people want me to draw things for them, and for a fee, I do. I get book cover commissions from either a self-published author or publishing house. When a house reaches out to me to design a book cover, it could be because the author saw my work somewhere and liked it. Like when I designed the cover of Nicola Yoon’s book Instructions for Dancing, one of Penguin’s creative directors reached out to me and said Nicola Yoon saw my work on Instagram — it’s always Instagram — and thought I’d be a great fit. Of course, I was interested. There’s usually a process that makes collaborating easy: a creative director reaches out, I do my work and get paid.

Renike posing with some books she designed covers for

But with independent authors, there’s a lot of back-and-forths because I ask a lot of questions, and sometimes, they don’t really know what they want, so I have to guide them through. I’m the illustrator as well as the consultant. I can ask for a non-disclosure agreement to protect their work if they feel reluctant to tell me certain details of their story.

I used to have a fixed price list, but not anymore, because I often sold myself short, especially when the projects evolved or derailed. Right now, I have a base fee and add extra depending on the complexity of the project. Painting someone’s head will be different from painting someone’s hand, for example; the same goes for half-body vs full-body portraits.

When I do personal art, I start with an idea, roll it around in my head for a while before I start painting. Which reminds me, the last time I did something personal was in July [2022]. I worked really hard between 2020 and 2022, putting out a a lot of work and building my reputation — and that’s why I can afford my lifestyle today. I still have ideas, but it’s been hard to find space to create personal work. Funny, I never struggle with commsioned work.

I’m thinking this as I step out of my studio at 5 p.m. today. I make a note to paint something personal soon.

THURSDAY

Today was just annoying; payment wahala here and there. The biggest headache I have these days is accepting payments. Most of my clients are outside the country so anytime I need to receive a payment, I always have to manoeuvre one issue or the other as a Nigerian living and working in Nigeria.

I’ve put my name out there to the point that people now trust me. All you need to do is Google my name and see I’m legit. But it wasn’t always the case. When I was still coming up around 2019/2020, it used to frustrate me that some international clients would just air me after seeing I’m Nigerian.

There was a time one of these traditional banks that recently went digital kept restricting my account until I threatened to sue. I was getting paid, but I couldn’t get my money. It’s not like the money was plenty o — didn’t even have the money to sue — but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m also struggling with inflation, and it’s affected the kind of projects I take on. My foreign clientele typically commissions digital art and book covers while most of my Nigerian clients prefer portraits. But right now, I don’t take as many portrait commissions or get as many requests as I used to because my base price is in dollars. With the way the naira is moving nowadays, I can’t charge Nigerians in Nigeria. It’s ridiculous to convert what was, say, ₦100k at the beginning of 2022 to more than double that.

It’s such a struggle, and I’m tired mehn. When does one get a break?

Renike posing with one of her works

FRIDAY

A younger artist reached out to me today, complaining that they did work for someone, and the client refused to pay. I discussed with the person on how they could prevent it from happening again.

I’ve worked with too many problematic clients than I’d like, but because I’ve had a few years of experience, I can spot them from a mile away and run for my life. They always have a crazy long list of things they want done — things that’ll normally cost an arm and a leg — but never have the budget for it.

No matter how big you are, you can’t escape problematic clients. These days, what I do is if there’s something they want and their budget doesn’t match it, instead of chasing them away, I try to compromise to find middle ground. For example, if you really want a full-body portrait of five people, and you only have enough to cover a full-body portrait of three, I can suggest a half-body portrait of five people instead. But the problematic ones don’t even want to make concessions; all they do is stress me out, so I just run away.

A few years ago, there was this lady who reached out to me for a painting. I was still charging around $500 and above at the time. We moved to the consultation stage, but after hearing all the details she wanted, I was like, ehn? This thing you want — with the whole world including heaven — is how much it would cost. Omo, this woman started ranting. What really annoyed me was when she said I’d wasted her time. I had to clear her — respectfully — on the spot.

Clients are always right o, but they should also respect people who work with or for them. She wasted my time too when she was describing heaven and earth. People need to understand that they’re paying for a service and we’re doing it in return for the payment. Our work as artists is to bring your vision to life, so you can’t disrespect us because you only want to pay a certain amount of money. I won’t accept disrespect just because I’m providing a service.

I’ve had to evolve my process in a way that demands respect, so right from the beginning, you know you’re not dealing with an anyhow person:
1. I ask a lot of questions and sign contracts from the get-go, so nobody will say something, and then later, say that’s not what they said, because I have the receipts.
2. I don’t attend to inquiries over the phone. I prefer emails so there’s a trail of communication.
3. When people divert from the original agreement or add something or the other, I charge extra.
I always set boundaries from the beginning. I don’t work for people who refuse to respect these boundaries because my peace of mind is important to me. Once people realise that after two revisions, they have to pay extra fees, they sit up and tell me exactly what they want.

But you see clients who treat me well? First of all, they offer me good money and are polite. Sometimes, they’re even ashamed to offer the money. To me, it’s big money o; to them, it’s like, “You have all this talent, and I can’t afford you, but please, take this money. And I’m like, “Yes ma’am.”

After I did the book cover for my friend’s poetry collection, I kept posting my work on social media, and the next people who reached out offered me £500 and were telling me they knew it was lower than what I usually charged. The way I screamed. Me that my previous job was ₦30k? Me that used to beg people to pay ₦50k, and they’d refuse? Me that didn’t even think I was good? That was my turning point.

SATURDAY

On weekends, I like to work out in the afternoons rather than in the evening. I also spend time watching and making TikToks of my art — and some fun dance routines too. Weekends are when I let my hair down and dance. But not at parties because, these days, if I do legwork in public, they’ll say Renike is razz. I do my legwork in my house, please. Dancing makes me feel really active and happy.

Weekends are also for hanging out with friends. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I’m only starting to make them — especially female friends — in my adulthood. I love them so much and love hanging out with them. They make life worth living. When I’m sad, I know I have this group of people I can talk to, who won’t judge me. They listen to me, hype me up, dance with me, crack funny and dead jokes with me, etc.

I like to read books too. Today, I finished Colleen Hoover’s Verity, and I’ve still not recovered. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I’ll sleep like my life depends on it. When another Monday comes, I’ll eat overnight oats, dress up and face the week.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In this series, we get into what dating across income brackets is like in different Nigerian cities.

Adanna* is a 26-year-old ghostwriter based in Yaba, Lagos. Four years ago, she travelled to Lagos to hook up with her Facebook friend and ended up cohabiting with him. Now, she tells Zikoko how she lives with her partner on a ₦500k monthly income.

Image source: Canva (Actual interview subjects are anon*)

Occupation and Location

Ghostwriter in Yaba, Lagos. Lives with her partner.

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Rent: ₦35,000 (₦350k annually until they move next month)

Dog expenses: ₦150k every two months for two dogs

Occasional gifts: ₦50 – ₦100k on average

Dates: Approx. ₦100 – ₦120k monthly

Water: ₦6k

Food: ₦60k-ish

House dues: ₦15k

Data subscription: ₦6k

Black tax: ₦200k-ish depending on the month. Could be more but it’s never less.

Savings: ₦15k

How long have you been in your relationship?

Three years. Four years by February, Insha Allah.

Amin. How much do you both earn monthly?

Depends really. Last month, I made ₦800k. Sometimes, it’s a lot less. But on average, roughly ₦500k.

Right now, my partner earns about ₦600k on average.

And how did y’all start dating?

We met on Facebook. We’d been friends for a few months before he slid into my DMs with “hey” late one night. I genuinely thought he was just being a horny goat because no man texts that late with good intentions. But I was wrong. We had a good conversation.

I was in 400 level studying law then. About two years later, after graduation and a suicide attempt, I decided to do something crazy: I packed my bags to Lagos for two weeks. We met at a park in Anthony for the first time.

Just like that? No talking stage?

The connection wasn’t instant, tbh. We had mutual interests and had been interacting on the timeline. My siblings were even mutuals with him on Facebook, before we started talking in the DMs, and that’s what we bonded over. It wasn’t that strange, my siblings usually steal my cool friends after a while.

We texted almost every day for two years. We were platonic at first: he helped me through a horrible relationship, and I helped him with two bad breakups. During our virtual friendship, there was an undercurrent of sexual tension, though. Sometimes we’d veer off into suggestive topics and pull ourselves back to platonic.

But we remained friends with the intention to fuck until the day I literally told him I was packing my things and moving to Lagos. He wasn’t sold on the idea, but then he said, “You know what? Come, we’ll see.” That’s the energy this boy gave me, SMH. Anyway, I went, and we saw.

LMAO. Tell me about the “saw”

The first day I arrived at his house, we just moved straight to the sex. After five months, on Valentine’s Day in 2019, he asked me to date him in the supermarket where I was buying him cookies. I said yes.

Why?

In hindsight, we really did things backwards because it was a very physical relationship before the emotions crept in. From September to February, we were friends with benefits while I was living in his house. So by the time we started dating, it was clear that, one: the cohabiting arrangement worked for us, and two: it would be a serious relationship.

How much were you earning when you went to live with him?

Maybe ₦50–70k a month.

Fear no catch you?

Nope. I didn’t care. I’m very shameless.

What was your partner’s financial situation?

He was earning a lot more than me, around ₦230–250k monthly, doing independent writing contracts and stuff. My own writing gigs were ₦1 per word, so I was more reliant on him then. He handled the big bills while I took on smaller bills like food and toiletries. Life was a bit easier because we didn’t have that many responsibilities — black tax wasn’t choking me and we didn’t have a dog. So we somehow managed to survive on less than ₦300k a month.

He paid for stuff; I cooked him dinner, gave him unlimited sexual favours and stimulating conversations as a reward. He gave me time to sort my shit out and never asked me to pay for stuff. I just contributed when I could.

Okay. So how do y’all run finances these days?

Some months, I make more; some, he does. Sometimes, we both make plenty of money — but this one is super rare. So whoever has the most earnings covers the bigger expenses. I don’t think splitting expenses right down the middle makes sense because it’s just too much pressure.

Over time, I notice he tends to spend his money more on our dogs, major bills and fixing stuff around the house, while I spend mine on foodstuff and artisans or domestic staff. I’m the one who always has cash lying around while we use his debit card.

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How much do you budget for relationship sturvs these days?

We both contribute to two or three restaurant outings per month and spend anywhere from ₦30–50k on each outing. Shiro does a bottomless sushi-type arrangement that costs ₦26k per person with alcohol and ₦16k without. We usually go twice a month: one with alcohol and one without alcohol. When we go to the movies occasionally, we spend ₦15–20k on tickets, snacks and popcorn plus cab fares. Once in a while, we look for a fine dining restaurant that offers deliveries, order in and chill with Netflix.

We make it a point to go out every weekend. Last week, we went to Classics, VI — they show old Western movies. It’s free entry, but we buy food and pay for transport (around ₦22k on average). We also like IndieView at Freedom Park (₦2k per ticket), where we always buy chicken and chips at ₦3,500 each. For drinks, we like to hang out at Hard Rock Cafe (₦11k for two cocktails) and Bature Breweries (₦15-20k for drinks, pulled pork pizza and onion rings). And when we feel like it, we carpool with friends to the beach where we spend about ₦6k each.

Lovely. What kind of conversations do you have with your partner about money?

Conversations around money can be tense sometimes. We both spend a lot on our families, so it can be difficult to take the other person into account. Despite the fact that we’ve been together for some time, our finances are separate in the sense that I have access to his money and vice versa, but we don’t keep our money in the same place.

It can be a bit difficult to be accountable. Like, for example, you had ₦800k in your account last month. Why are you so broke now; what did you do with it? This situation forces me to look at money beyond something for me to spend and do as I please.

How do you navigate money conflicts?

I’m grateful he pushes me to earn more and flags the times I’m charging too low. Ironically, he can sometimes push me to charge more and turn around to undersell himself, then I’ll now be pissed.

I had an unhealthy relationship with money growing up. I didn’t understand money early as I was raised to be terrified of it. If you give me ₦5m today, I would freak out and overthink and micromanage every single expense. But not my man. He’s more comfortable with money. He’s the one who taught me to spend — especially on things I used to consider ridiculous like ₦50k on a single restaurant outing. He’s helped me ease the burden of guilt and taught me that above everything, money is a tool.

Has money ever caused a major problem?

Oh, we’ve been in some horrible shit before. Like, we’ve been so broke we couldn’t afford food for days. I love food so much, so I was cranky AF. And he took the whole not-being-able-to-provide-for-his-woman situation to heart, telling me to find some other man to provide for me.

I was sick of his patriarchal and one-man-pity-party-with-the-world’s-smallest-violin bullshit. I told him to fuck right off, and we didn’t talk to each other for a bit. But we settled after I got paid and took him to buy some cake and food. I told him if he ever implied I needed a man to eat again, I would leave him. He ate the humble cake, apologised for weeks with small gifts like coffee and lactose-free milk. He hasn’t tried shit like that again since then.

Whoa!

Yup. But there was also the time when he was dealing with some serious depression and wasn’t earning anything. I didn’t even know he was depressed, and in hindsight, he didn’t even want to admit he was depressed. I was basically covering all the bills, so it hurt his ego again. We fought break-up-worthy fights. I was resentful; he was embarrassed and felt emasculated.

Anyway, we ignored each other for a while, but sorta came back when all the emotions were cooled and talked things over. I helped him find a gig worth ₦350k and assisted him with it. That began his slow process back to working full time. After about a year, we figured the finances and mental health shit out.

Wild! Okay, so what’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

It’s a pretty clear picture, and we’re working towards it. We want to build a retreat facility in a southwestern [Nigerian] state, travel to places like India and Greece, and later, settle in a Scandinavian country where we can eventually own property, live in peace, get free education for our kids — if we ever change our minds about childbirth. We’d love to see the Northern Lights from our backyard.

So I guess the ideal financial future would be when we can comfortably afford all that and then some. Right now, we’re consolidating our network, and collaborating on investments, and we’ve started a joint savings account. We already have ₦890k in it; our short-term goal is ₦5m and long-term goal is limitless.

God, abeg, I don’t wanna be a mechanic

LMAO. We’re moving houses soon. We’re currently living in a room in a shared four-bedroom apartment and we want to move to a two-bedroom, so that’s probably going to wipe out our savings. But we move.

Do you have a financial safety net?

Right now? No. We only recently figured out our financial and career shit together as a unit. We finally have stable finances and we’re both getting publishing deals while he’s been accepted for a fellowship. We both work hard, so I’ll give it a year and that answer will be yes. Hopefully, nothing theatrically horrible happens before then.

READ NEXT: What’s Dating in Port Harcourt Like, on a ₦325k Combined Monthly Income?

If you’re interested in talking about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start. We’re willing to keep your identity anonymous.

Yes, interview me!

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“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this Week in the Life is Joboson Chisa, a brand designer. He designs across a broad spectrum: brand identity, perception, sales, marketing, communications etc. He tells about his design process, how he made his first million as a brand designer, his frustrations negotiating with clients and why he’s no longer choosing “vawulence” on design Twitter.

MONDAY

I always wake up at 6 a.m. thinking we should scrap Mondays. So I don’t get out of bed until 9 a.m. During those three hours, I browse Twitter and think up ideas, to start the week. Sometimes, I tweet motivational stuff, the occasional “we gonna make it #Wagmi” — as if I have energy to start the week — right from my bed. The lies we tell…

Anyway, by nine o’clock, I finally get out of bed and open my laptop. Mondays are for stand-up meetings and admin work — sending and responding to emails, receiving and analysing feedback, etc. I get the most rejection mails from organisations about my pitches on Mondays, and I don’t eat breakfast until 12.

After work, I catch up on all the “vawulence” on Twitter. There’s always someone being ratioed for a bad design opinion at the start of the week. If you’re looking for hot takes on +234 design Twitter, you’ll find them on Monday. It’s like designers had too much time on their hands during the weekend and the gist spilt into the new week.

TUESDAY

I know it’s just Tuesday, but please, the week has been crazy already. As a freelancer working from home, Tuesdays are usually my busiest days, when I actually open my design software and get to work. When I have deadlines, I beg MTN to have mercy on me.

I’m very busy these days, juggling several client projects. And as if that wasn’t enough, I carried myself to take on community work. That’s the curse of being a freelance designer — taking on more projects than you should. But I’m a bad guy, so I’ll just wait until those deadlines are due then the panic monster will pressure me into slaying them.

After seven gruelling hours at my work desk, I have new designs. They’re so beautiful — even though I know I’m going to hate them tomorrow. But it’s been a hard day’s work, and I’m satisfied. Work hasn’t ended though, only client work.

Around 6 p.m., I turn my focus to a personal project. I’m trying to build 234 Brand Street, an online community of designers like myself, and even though I don’t have a clear roadmap, this thing has me doing things out of my comfort zone. I’m editing videos, learning new software, making templates for a live event — mehn, it’s been crazy motivating and crazy stressful. Who send me work?

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WEDNESDAY

Someone reached out to me on LinkedIn, and I was so excited because that would be my first client from the platform — I’m mostly active on Twitter. This person told me they needed a designer and promised so many high sounding jargon — except payment. What would I use a “founding designer” title to do when it’s not coming with money? Is that how they say they’ll pay in “exposure” these days?

Once I told him I wasn’t comfortable with the offer, he stopped responding. I was really disappointed because I felt like LinkedIn had better to offer.

People like this stress me out. But I’ve made my peace that money conversations will often be weird. Just as I was rounding up work for today, someone emailed me from Behance to ask for my rates. When I asked for their budget, he asked what I wanted. He now said it was out of his budget. But didn’t he say he didn’t have a budget?

I finished the first iteration of a brand identity I’d been working on for the past week for a US-based client and sent the files over. I expect to get their feedback by next Monday. So it wasn’t an unproductive day.

After all the stress, I called my boys out to hang in the evening. As a remote freelancer, I try to invest as much time as I can in my social life. I felt like having cocktails, so we went for drinks until 11 p.m.

THURSDAY

The weekend is almost here so bored designers usually start dropping hot takes and fighting on Twitter today. I didn’t have urgent projects immediately pressing my neck, so I decided to indulge a bit by spending a little too much time on the app, calling out designers for their problematic takes. Thursdays are usually my freest days anyway.

The thing is I’m a very outspoken person, and I feel very privileged to be in the design industry. But in +234 design Twitter, some people want to feel more important than they really are. There’s this worrying trend of people trying to position themselves as better than others rather than solving problems for people who can pay for their services.

The design community on Twitter used to be very different from what it is now. It was once a melting point of shared ideas and innovation, but these days, you’ll just see someone who hasn’t done any notable work, but because they got into tech from a random gig and bought fancy gadgets, nobody will hear word again.

One thing about me is I’ll always call out bullshit when I see it. Sometimes, I keep quiet, expecting people to know better — don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the good things design money can get one, but it’s becoming a pattern to detect those who breed on vibes, controversy and empty show off — I’ve saved some of their lit workspace pictures, though.

After today sha, I’ll be keeping quiet. I don’t want to build a brand on “vawulence”. I just hope younger, less experienced designers won’t fall for the empty hype of people who don’t really care about them as much as they see newbies as stepping stones to their own goals.

FRIDAY

I’m always excited about the weekend. It gives me a sense of accomplishment, and I also get to do fun stuff. Earlier today, I completed a major design project, handed it over and got paid. The money was up there with the highest I’ve charged this year, so I’m in high spirits.

I’ve had a weird money journey, especially with charging clients. When I started out, I charged ₦5k for logos — and sometimes, I didn’t even get paid. But I’ve come a long way. In December [2021], a friend asked me how much I charged for designs. At the time, I was charging ₦500k – 700k for a full brand package, which included logos, social media and marketing templates, merch and many more. When they told me I was too good to be charging that amount, I didn’t believe them

But later, I did research and saw designers charging $2k for brand identities I didn’t think were all that, so I decided to raise my rates. When a client reached out to me shortly after, I decided to ask for more money than I normally would. I pitched an idea, held my breath and asked for ₦1.7m. I didn’t know where I got the audacity from. The company accepted, and I wanted to run mad with excitement. That was my first million. Since then, I’ve not looked back.

When I received my credit alert this evening, I knew it was time to have fun. I’m going to hit up my squad so we can decide if we’re going to a concert, bar or any fun event in Lagos. I try to go out every weekend, but this one will be special.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

18-year-old Susan* is learning to sew to keep herself busy during the ASUU strike. But in Nigeria, apprentices are at the mercy of their bosses. And Susan’s typical week is full of more downs than ups. Find out why tailors lie and how she’s making the best of the ASUU strike in this week in her life.

MONDAY

I like Mondays because they’re the most chilled days of my week. People have collected their dresses during the weekend, and even though sometimes, we receive clothes on Monday, it’s not plenty like that. I was looking forward to a chill day as usual, but my day started badly when I was harassed by street boys.

My dad asked me to help him cash a cheque on my way to work. The bank isn’t far from my house, so I decided to trek. On my way, I saw some men loitering around and thought it was the regular street boys that’ll leave you be as long as you mind your business. But these ones started catcalling me. It wasn’t my first time being catcalled — that one is normal in Lagos — but these guys were very aggressive to the point of touching me. I managed to break away.

I thought I’d be able to shake off the experience, but by the time I got to work, I was still shaken and I felt dirty. I hoped to just get through the day.

Things were going fine until a woman brought in curtains and my madam assigned the work to me. I started on it, but there was a part that was very tricky.

The thing about sewing is that it’s better to leave something alone than to redo it after making a mistake because mistakes only make the material worse. I’m still an apprentice so I decided to show my madam that part, but she was talking with the person that brought the curtain outside and I didn’t want to interrupt them. So I waited for her to be done with their conversation.

But when madam stepped into the shop and saw me idle, she started shouting at me — she didn’t even give me space to explain myself. I was so embarrassed.

My day went from bad to worse. When I got home and showered, I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about how if there was no strike and I was in school, something like this wouldn’t happen to me. It’s not like school isn’t easy but it’s just easier for me to blame it on ASUU.

TUESDAY

I’ve not recovered from yesterday’s incident and I didn’t even sleep well. But work continues, abi? So I went to work.

Tuesdays are only slightly busier at the shop sha, because that’s the time people come with their materials and take measurements and we start working. So since I didn’t have much to do today, I had a lot of time to think about my life.

Even though I like fashion, I didn’t plan to learn the trade this soon. I’m only doing it because ASUU has been striking for more than six months now, and we don’t even know when it’ll end.

I like fashion, but I wish I didn’t have to learn under these conditions. The former place I used to learn was worse than this. The complete trenches. I went there to learn fashion but would find myself in my madam’s house, washing her clothes, taking her children to school, cooking for her husband, and plenty more things. I stayed there for three months before I complained to my mum,, she pulled me out of there, but she’d already paid the apprenticeship fee.

This place I’m currently doing apprenticeship isn’t perfect, but it’s better. It’s closer to my hous,e and I don’t have to worry about the stress of entering danfo. But I’m tired, to be honest. I can’t wait for ASUU to call off strike.

Everybody is like, don’t waste this time. Learn something new. But learning something new doesn’t change the fact that I’m stagnant. My mates in private universities are already in 400 level and me, I’m still in my second year. If there was no strike and this was just a normal holiday, I’d be more excited about learning a trade, But right now, I’m doing it because I don’t have a choice. I just have to do it, if not, I’d be idle. Maybe that’s what makes it feel less interesting.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday is when the real work starts. The official closing time is 5 p.m, and on Monday and Tuesday, we close around that time. But from Wednesday onwards, it’s 6:30 we leave because there’s always so much work.

It’s not like I can’t leave at 5 o, I’m just not comfortable leaving unfinished work. But no matter what, I’ll never stay beyond 6:30 because of security issues.

Today, I learnt how to make peplums. My mum has a lot of peplum dresses and I’ve always loved them. used to think they were difficult to make. But today, when madam tailor was showing me how to make it, it didn’t even take her more than two minutes. After cutting the material, you just need to put a stale on the peplum, sew round it, and then iron the cloth.

Image source: Mynativefashion

I made my first peplum, and it came out well. I was so happy because my week started so badly.

Every day I learn something new, and it makes my time here more bearable. By the time I got home, I had so much fun telling my parents and just knew I’d sleep well.

THURSDAY

Thursdays are extra busy because people want to get their dresses on Friday. Customers call non-stop to ask if their clothes are ready. It’s also when we lie the most because even if the clothes are not ready, we’ll tell the customers we’re done. We do this just so they’ll stop calling us every five minutes.

We’re all on edge on Thursdays because of the building tension that a customer can come at any time. It’s the day I make the most mistakes because I’m still learning to manage the pressure.

It’s also on Thursday that madam tailor shouts at her apprentices the most. I understand her concern, but sometimes, I think there are better ways to correct inexperienced apprentices sha. It gets ugly when she starts laying her hands on people.

Like today, I was working on a child’s dress and was almost done — it was just remaining the hand. The problem is, I’ve not really mastered how to cut the hands of dresses yet, so usually, when I get to the hands, I ask a more senior colleague to help me out. I don’t have a personal sewing machine at home, so I fear I’m not learning as fast as I should. The tailor doesn’t allow apprentices to bring their own stuff to sew at the shop. So, other apprentices who have machines usually go home to practice.

But today, everyone else that could help me was neck-deep in work. I could have waited o, but I was trying to be useful. I said to myself that since I’ve seen people cut dress hands before, I could try it. I finished the dress and moved on to other tasks.

Around 6:15 p.m., when I was preparing to go home, I heard “KPAIII” on my back. I was already so stressed from the hectic day, so it took me some moments to gather myself. Then the tailor showed me the dress and started shouting at me. She told me it wasn’t her fault I don’t have a machine at home and called me all sorts of names. She kept beating me with that her hand that’s very painful. Me that they don’t beat at home.

Shey I’d have left the unfinished dress for someone else. Me that was trying to be useful. Ah, ASUU, see what you people have caused. Please free me, let me go back to school.

FRIDAY

When I woke up this morning, my ears were ringing. Then I realised I still have to go to work today after the nonsense that happened yesterday.

I wanted to tell my parents, but no. It’s not the first time and my parents are very vocal people. What usually happens is, after my parents call the woman to complain, she’ll apologise to them, promise to do better, and then turn around to badmouth me to other staff and apprentices in the shop. It’s funny because you’d expect them to empathise with me. Shey all of us are suffering the same thing? But no, they’ll join to badmouth me.

There’s a kind of stigma that comes with being the one who snitches to their parents — they stop assisting me or sharing knowledge. And me, I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t have a sewing machine. When I look at all the problems that come with reporting, I wonder: at what cost? I’ll just bear it, learn my thing and go.

The previous place I paid ₦70k for, the money entered bush. I don’t know how much my parents paid for this one I’m currently doing, but it’s probably even more expensive. And it’s not like my parents can terminate the contract and collect a refund. That’s why I endure.

Fridays are chaotic as hell. By the time we closed today, I’d put all the events of the week behind me but was too tired to trek home. So I took a danfo. I can’t wait for the weekend abeg. My family will be at home and now that the season has ended, we’ll watch BBN recaps and highlights.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Nine hours every day, Uche Uka* sells food from behind a counter at a prominent fast food restaurant, while evading stern managers. While on duty, resting is against the restaurant’s rules. But after two years of thankless service for ₦40k a month, she wants better from life

MONDAY

Mondays are the slowest days at the fast food restaurant, maybe because many people cook during the weekend and still have food in their fridges. But I still end up tired.

The eatery I work at opens at 7 a.m. We don’t have cleaners and support staff, I have to arrive early to clean up the store, machines, utensils and surfaces, bring the food from the kitchen to the counter and prepare for when the store opens. It’s a cashier’s duty to make sure all the food and drinks are recorded and cross-checked with the cooks. So I resume at 6 a.m.

There are two other cashiers on my shift, and we do several jobs while the company only pays us for one. When we pleaded with management to hire cleaners, they asked us, “So, who’ll pay them?”

We used to open at 8 a.m., but the company decided to push it forward to cater to students and workers who stop by to pick up food on their way to school and work.

Morning shift is supposed to last from 6 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. — eight-and-a-half hours — but that rarely happens. I often leave at around 4:30 because I’m required to settle records after my shift. Depending on the manager, they can make me stay until six. I don’t have a choice. Every single tray of food I served has to be accounted for, along with every naira. If there’s any shortage, they’ll deduct it from my ₦40k salary.

Every day comes with its own wahala. Sometimes, a manager can wake up on the wrong side of their bed, come to work and transfer their frustration on us. Even more often, customers bring their own problems and cause a scene.

Today, I left the restaurant at 4 p.m. and headed home. Even though Mondays are always slow, I’d been standing for over ten hours, so I’m tired. I’m always tired.

TUESDAY

Today didn’t go well at all. A pregnant woman came in and ordered takeaway basmati fried rice. A portion of the rice is two-and-half spoons and costs ₦700. I asked if she wanted a big-sized takeaway pack or a small one. She said, “Big.” When I handed her the food, she started complaining it was too small.

She accused me of not putting enough rice, even though a portion would look smaller in the larger pack. When she accused me of trying to steal her food and pocket the money, I explained to her that it’s not cashiers who set the pricing or quantities. I asked if she wanted an extra portion and she insulted my father.

When she came in, I told her not to look at the board. She could tell me what she wanted, and I’d tell her the price. The restaurant usually updates the prices on the system, while the old price remains on the board. Maybe that’s why she called me a fraud.

This woman brought out a calculator and refused to pay for the pack she asked for, which costs an extra ₦150. She kept yelling and threatened to complain about me to the branch manager. Then she called the head office to complain that I’d hacked the system to cheat her and pocket her money. Me, a cashier, hacking? See me see wahala.

I don’t understand it when people dump their frustrations on cashiers. I’m not happy at this job, but you don’t see me shouting at people.

The manager came in and dashed her a free meal just so she could leave. Then, he turned to me and started shouting that it was my fault. Thank God I had witnesses who called him out sha. A man even told him to update the board and stop letting problematic customers harass cashiers. But even though I didn’t do anything, I still had to apologise. Because when everybody leaves, it’s me the manager will deal with.

The man who stood up for me tried to give me a tip for my troubles, but the manager intercepted it. Company policy is that no staff should handle cash or personal property during work hours. Usually, I have to hand over my personal belongings at the security desk and sign them in. When managers intercept tips like this, they promise to add it to our salary at the end of the month. But, for where? I know I’m never seeing that money.

I finally got home, called my brother and told him about my day. He told me it is well and cracked jokes that made me laugh. By the time I hung up and prepared for bed, I realised I wasn’t so angry anymore.

WEDNESDAY

I woke up to a call that I should come in for the evening shift. These duty managers keep changing things, and I never know until the last minute. I wish they would rotate it weekly so I’ll know okay o, this week, I’m on morning shift, next week, I’m on evening shift. I’ve begged them several times to tell me my shift ahead of time, but they just do anyhow they want. We, the junior staff, don’t have a choice. If you enter any manager’s wrong side, you’ll see shege.

I don’t like evening shift because we have to stay back to do records even though the store closes by 10 p.m, Sometimes, I get home as late as midnight. I’ve been robbed before, and with the news of kidnapping these days, it’s very unsafe. One of my colleagues was stabbed recently. But who cares? They’ll say the insecurity also affects managers.

The company now has a policy that workers must live a maximum of 15 minutes from the store. I wonder if they’re just mocking us because none of us can afford to live anywhere around the area. Even my six months’ salary can’t rent a place there. When I moved to this city in 2020, I had to save for six months to get my current apartment in a villagey area about 30 minutes away.

But can I complain?

My ₦40k salary can only take me so far, but I try my best to be disciplined. My rent is ₦150k, and I make sure to save ₦20k every month for it. I get lunch at work, so I only have to bother about breakfast. Transport costs me about ₦400 daily — about ₦10k a month. I use the rest to buy provisions and toiletries. My brother lives in Lagos and supports me by paying my school fees once in a while — about ₦60–70k for my online programme at the university where I’m studying economics.

I ended up staying until 11 p.m. today before they said I could leave. Thank God I got home safely.

THURSDAY

I don’t know if everybody in this city got hungry and decided to eat fast food, but the eatery was filled to the brim, and the cashiers were so overwhelmed, one of us had to beg the manager around to help us. Jesus, the noise, fights and shouting? Two customers even got close to throwing blows because they couldn’t agree on who was next in line.

Rush-hour days like this have become very common. We’ve been begging management to hire more people, but they said revenue isn’t enough. Every day I come to work, I stay on my feet for eight to ten hours, and my body begs for mercy. It’s against the rules to sit down. Once my shift starts, I must be on my feet until they let me go. If a manager catches you trying to rest even for one second, you don enter wahala be that.

All I was thinking about the whole day was how I don’t have to come to work on Saturday. I work Sunday to Sunday, but I have one day off during the week. The way I’m going to sleep?

FRIDAY

The night blinked by so fast my head was turning when I woke up. My first thought was how I don’t want to be stuck here. I don’t want to wake up by 5 a.m. every day, rushing to a job that’s killing my joy. But I have to pay rent, buy food and pay my school fees.

Even though I don’t like the job, it’s the only one I could find that I can work while schooling. Some jobs with better pay, once you tell them you’re in school, they’ll say they don’t want your wahala. So I can’t complain too much.

I have two weeks of leave per year. My exams usually run for one week, and I have two of them each year. So I usually go on leave during exams. I’m in 200 level now and still have three years to go.

Exams start in two weeks, and even though it’s an online program, I have to go to campus for revision classes until exams. It’s bothering me even more because I have to go to school today. Juggling school with this cashier work is hell. After serving people on my feet for nine hours non-stop, I’ll jump into a cab and rush to school. I know I’ll be too tired to even hear what the lecturer is saying, but at least, I’ll get points for attendance, abi?

SATURDAY

As I am now, I’m living my life for someone else, because every day, I dress up to go and do work I don’t want to be doing. I like handling money, making sales and attending to people, but not under these conditions. It’s the reason I took this job and now, I’ve been working as a cashier for two years, but nothing has improved, but I hope that’ll change soon.

I want to take back control of my life. I have an idea to start supplying zobo and tiger nut drinks to restaurants, but I don’t have capital. I don’t know how lucrative it’ll be, but even if I get the same amount as my ₦40k salary in profit every month, I don’t mind. As long as I’ll have a little more control of my life and no longer have to work at the eatery.

From my calculations, it’ll cost about ₦700k to start because, for fast-food restaurants to even consider you as a supplier, you have to be able to deliver in large quantities consistently. I hope I can get a loan for it. The prices of things I’ll need to buy are going up every day, but God will help his child.

I held on to this hope as I locked my door and went to work. It’s the same hope on my mind when I get back home.

Tomorrow is Sunday which happens to be my worst day of the week because it’s always our peak period for sales — family time out, dates, flexing, meals before and after church service, church food time with members — always a crowd.

Nobody wants to work on Sunday morning because of all that work. But last last, someone must have to do it either by choice or force.

Breaking free from all the stress is the only thing on my mind these days. But for now, I have to get some sleep and rest well ahead of work tomorrow.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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When Onyinye Gift Ikechukwu engaged her creativity and entrepreneurial spirit, something interesting happened.

By Victor Eyike, bird story agency

In a yard down on Benin City’s popular 5-Junction Road, ten men gather for a daily ritual. They are greeted by a strongly built young woman wearing workman’s tan overalls and leather shoes, who leads them in prayer. Afterwards, the men pick up their tools and head their various ways, each to a carpentry workstation of their own. Onyinye Gift Ikechukwu, the woman in the overalls, does the same.

Ikechukwu is the proprietor and chief designer of Cheeo Furnitures — a hub open to skilled furniture builders in this city in Edo State.

Work starts in earnest in the yard, where several pieces of furniture, including tables, chairs, beds and other pieces of home decor, are already complete and on display for sale.

“The yard is usually open to any furniture maker. So, different people come here to work. I start my day by praying and changing to my uniform before sorting out the materials for use in the day,” Ikechukwu explained, before getting down to work.

Although there are several other furniture yards on this stretch of road, Cheeo is unique. In most yards, a businessman owns the business and the artisans — many extremely skilled — work for a wage. At Cheeo all are equal — everyone rents space and retains their independence. And Ikechukwu has gained something of a cult status amongst her fellow artisans. Where many people see her as an unwelcome intruder into the menial, “man’s world” of the furniture-making business, her co-workers at the hub see her as something of a local hero.

Furniture maker Chude Smart said Ikechukwu’s open-yard concept not only accorded the artisans space to work but attracted more customers. It also provided something they can’t get working alone.

“Whenever we’re here, we’re supported by our mates. Sometimes we borrow materials from one another. It makes the work easy and fast,” he said. speaking his local dialect.

Ikechukwu also offers something the artisans would not get elsewhere: social media marketing. Ikechukwu turns to social media – particularly Instagram – to market the products in the yard.

“The bottom line is, there are so many skilled furniture makers, You just have to put your work out there through social media platforms and try to reach clients before your competitors,” she said.

Although Ikechukwu had qualms when she ventured into furniture making, she was determined to make her mark in a male-dominated furniture manufacturing sector that rakes in more than ₦50 billion (almost 120 million US dollars) annually, according to the Nigerian factual site, Nigerian Finder. Only 19 at the time, she was ready to ride out whatever challenges came her way.

“I was seeking admission into the tertiary institution at that time and I was getting declined, so I desired to try something different. I tried several skills, but it just wasn’t working for me. Then I tried furniture making and I knew it was the real deal,” she said.

Although she did manage to continue with her studies, Ikechukwu’s parents were not comfortable with her decision.

“My parents were sceptical about it, especially my mother. I was coming back home with injuries and they wished I focused on something else. But now they have adjusted, they clearly see I have a deep passion for it and whole-heartedly support me and my work,” Ikechukwu said.

Despite their early reservations, Ikechukwu now credits her father, Ikechukwu Chidele, with providing some her most important support.

“My father was instrumental to my growth. His drive and diligence as a spray painter motivated me. At some point, I almost ventured into his industry but then I knew that was not my calling, So I delved into furniture making,” she said.

For his part, the elder Ikechukwu seems to now be a lot more comfortable with his daughter’s decision.

“I was surprised when she started a furniture design business. At first, I was scared she may be overwhelmed by the work to the detriment of her studies but over time, Onyinye has shown zeal and resilience. I am proud of her for what she is doing. She has my blessings in what she chose to do in life,” Ikechukwu Chidele said.

Even Ikechukwu’s mother, Ikechukwu Udoka Magdalene, has become one of her greatest supporters, and credits her daughter for changing her perception of the craft.

“I was always bothered about her safety and how she would be able to combine schooling with furniture design. She has been doing a fantastic job and I am extremely proud of her, Udoka said.

Though the daring move may be breaking down gender bias, Ikechukwu, like many Nigerians from average families, can’t afford to look back. Cheeo has now become the lifeblood of the family. It pays the bills and funds her own further education.

‘I am the firstborn child in my family, I have two siblings. My father is a spray painter while my mother is a local gospel singer who makes and sells snacks. I am not from a wealthy home, but my parents have been doing their best to ensure we have a roof over our heads and go to school,” she said.

“I wasn’t born into affluence, but I was taught to keep hustling by my parents. With my furniture business, I am now able to chip in, besides paying my fees.”

Having passed her examinations and qualified to attend university, Ikechukwu is now studying at the University of Benin, one of the most prestigious tertiary institutions in Nigeria.

“My parents always wanted me to get a formal education, irrespective of my desire to be a furniture maker. I had my primary and secondary education in Benin City, Edo state. I am studying public administration at the University of Benin,” Ikechukwu said proudly.

Looking back she says that it was worth it all despite the ridicule she suffered from friends — especially for doing the many odd jobs required to initially raise capital for her now booming furniture business.

She also confesses to being tempted to quit college and go full-time into business, but said doing so would “literally kill my parents, who have struggled so much to ensure I and my siblings get a good education.”

“Honestly, I have been worried that someday I may succumb and quit schooling. But still, I know education is vital and I have to keep balancing my schooling and work,” she added.

She is also extremely aware of how important her business is to the families of the other woodworkers who use her hub facilities. Buying materials in bulk helps increase their profit margins.

“We get our materials from different suppliers. Some sell their boards at a cheaper price compared to others,” she said.

Ikechukwu has now earned the respect of her colleagues, not just for starting the hub but also for her woodwork. At first over-protective, they now see her as one of themselves.

“They don’t discriminate at all. There is mutual respect here in the yard. Although some clients are sceptical of trusting me with their work, I try to convince them with pictures and videos of my previous jobs to earn their trust. So my gender as a female doesn’t really hinder my work,” she said.

On average, she makes about 200 sales a year.

“Although the cost of production is increasing insanely, the market is still buoyant and profitable,” she said.

But it is not always smooth sailing. Like any business venture, Cheeo has its ups and downs, especially when customers dry up.

“I get discouraged sometimes, we keep waiting for customers but get nothing. This weighs me down mentally but then I have to stay motivated and keep pushing,” she said.

She remains bouyed by local customers like Chuks Ideh, who likes the quality she gets from Ikechukwu.

“I always prefer to make my furniture from scratch than purchasing from a vendor. Furniture is an asset we can’t do without in our homes. I do not care if it’s a man or woman handling the job, as long as it meets my requirements,” Ideh explained.

Furniture buyer Ibidun Joy said buys from Ikechukwu because of the reliability she finds from the yard’s artisans.

“It’s difficult to get a reliable furniture maker, So when I search for one, I always seek recommendations from my friends. I have seen Onyinye severally whenever I come to purchase furniture from the yard. What she is doing is great. She deserves all the accolades,” Ibidun said.

Those sentiments are shared by Franca Suwe, a second-time customer, visiting the hub to buy a queen-sized bed frame.

“The furniture business is a very stressful venture. I remember my brother, who was a furniture maker, always looking stressed trying to please very difficult customers. I once saw (him) struggling to just complete a wardrobe with a customer breathing down his neck. Onyinye is doing great, and I will continue to buy my furniture from her,” Suwe said.

“It takes a lot of convincing to close a deal because some clients prefer men while others will make almost unrealistic demands, especially on completion. Sometimes, I get lucky and get instant clients, especially those who see my work on my Instagram page,” Ikechukwu in turn explained.

Amos Ighorodje is one of the customers who found her online.

“I wanted to make a wardrobe for my room and when I mentioned it to a colleague in the office, he immediately referred me to (the) Cheeo Furniture page. Though I liked what I saw, I was sceptical when I saw that it was run by a woman, but she proved me wrong by delivering a top-notch wardrobe that is the envy of my friends,” Ighorodje said.

While many Nigerians insist on buying imported furniture, designer Bright Are called on Nigerians, particularly the “elite” to support local enterprises.

“Some potential customers believe it’s always better to import their accessories because they will get good quality, and a wide variety at very moderate prices. That’s a major problem for domestic furniture designers. It would help grow us and the economy if Nigerians can start patronising local furniture,” he said.

But Onyinye sees an opportunity in the challenge mounted by imported goods. That opportunity is to improve her quality and ensure competitiveness to win more customers.

Her eye is set on turning Cheeo into a household name and top furniture manufacturing company in Nigeria – and beyond.

“In the next 10 years, I hope to make Cheeo furniture a household name in Africa with unique products to compete in the export market,” she concluded.
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

For nine hours every day, 26-year-old Daisy* calls 180 loan defaulters to get them to pay up their debts. But when she’s overlooked for a promotion after two years, she starts doing the bare minimum while she figures out her next career move.

Photo by MART PRODUCTION via Pixels

MONDAY

My typical day starts at 7 a.m., but I go back to sleep and wake up fully by eight most days. If I had to go to the office, I’d wake up at six and leave my house at seven. But thank God my company now lets people like me, who’ve been on the job for a long time, work from home.

I take my bath and do skin care — even though I work from home, it’s annoying that I have to use sunscreen, according to skincare experts. SMH. Then I hotspot my smartphone to my laptop and get ready to get through the day. My work is straightforward: I ask customers to pay up their gbese. I’m pretty much a call centre agent, so when a call comes to me, it’s because a customer has picked up and I’m an available agent.

I interact with customers until 6 p.m. when I log off. 5 p.m. is the official closing time, but everyone is used to working until six because, targets. If I need to take breaks, they have to be for less than 30 minutes each. But I can’t complain.

After work, I’m too tired to do anything, so I fry eggs, drink tea or order food. I don’t have time to cook a full meal because of my limited break time. I spend the rest of the night social media-ing, and catching up on texts and calls from friends, before going to bed around 11 p.m.

TUESDAY

At 8:50 a.m. when I sat at my desk to meditate before my first call today, I thought about how my target used to be 150 calls per day. It soon increased to 160. As the company continued to expand, they increased the loan collection targets till I was making 180 complete calls per day — a complete call means I dialled, the customer picked, and I introduced myself: “Hi, my name is Daisy. I’m calling you from [insert company name].”

The day flies by as I take call after call and try to keep my cool because I’m not a very patient person. Word on the gossip line is the company has struggled to raise funding recently. It seems the company’s runway is depleting, and so, there’s serious pressure to recover as much money from debtors as possible.

My company used to outsource loan collections to an agency I worked for, but during COVID, they terminated the contract, and I got laid off. Then I applied to join the company’s in-house collections team and got in. At first, I was a high performer, hitting my targets and winning departmental awards. But after personnel changes and reviews, the workplace became toxic.

The turning point was when I got passed on for a promotion. As one of the founding members, I’d been recommended by a team lead and even worked in the marketing team temporarily. I was enjoying my new role upstairs, and for three weeks, I thrived. Then HR came from nowhere and said they weren’t aware of the arrangement, and they’d already hired two people for the role. They sent me back to the loan collection team. I was devastated. Since then, I’ve been on autopilot.

They made things worse by encouraging competition to the point of toxicity. People would come to work from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. because the more calls you make, the higher your chances of recovering money. All this just so they could meet targets and get paltry bonuses. I did it for a while and would earn an extra ₦45k here or ₦60k there. But the payment didn’t match the effort.

That’s why they’re expanding the loan collection team from the current 65 people to 100 by the end of the year. So I expect the targets to keep increasing. Things are bad, and the economic downturn in the country means people aren’t making enough to pay back their loans. This makes the work much harder for us, and we’re scared of being laid off.

WEDNESDAY

Omo. Today, I lost my shit. I understand people are struggling, but please na. I already hate when they assign me late buckets — people more than one month overdue — but this guy who’d defaulted for 35 days and counting was still doing anyhow. I’m supposed to ask why they’re delaying payments, and then, figure out a way to get them to “drop something”.

But this guy hadn’t shown any commitment, by making a part payment or even extending his loan. So I told him, “How much can we get from you today, Mister man?! Me too, I used to borrow money na. What’s all this?”

I get the late bucket customers because I’m one of the more experienced people on the team, but nobody pays me for the extra stress. Loan defaulters can be so annoying. They feel like we debt collectors can’t do anything because the company’s penalties are lenient. We only charge them a tiny percentage in late payment fees for a week, and then, we attempt to auto-debit their accounts. But these sneaky people leave their accounts empty.

What we do is flag them as credit defaulters, but most ordinary Nigerians don’t even care. Only those trying to leave the country or who need good credit scores to run businesses do. But those kinds of people rarely default on their loans.

When I’m introducing myself to customers, I have to prepare myself because, depending on their mood, conversations can go south very quickly. Sometimes, it’s difficult to stick to the script.

I’m not proud of going off on that guy today. But sometimes, when they start moving mad, I want to give it back to them hot-hot. Our calls are recorded, and my quality assurance (QA) score will surely take a hit, but we move.

THURSDAY

Today, there’s gossip going around that the company’s trying to review the bonus structure again, but I don’t even care. The base pay for my role is ₦110k monthly. Just as recently as three months ago, people got up to an extra ₦80k if they met three key performance indices (KPIs): QA score, output and recovery.

The old system was something like this: If my team calls 1m customers, we’re supposed to recover at least 70% of the debt. If I call 3k customers in a month and they were owing ₦3m, I must recover at least 70% of the money. If I hit my 70% target, and my team meets its 70%, it means I’d meet the recovery KPI.

I also need a QA score of 90%, which is measured by following the call script, being empathetic, maintaining a certain tone of voice and requesting complete or part payments. This has been my biggest issue as I usually score between 82% and 89%. I don’t care about customers’ reasons for defaulting payment. Just pay the money you owe.

Before my first short break at around 1:30 p.m., I called a debtor, and before I even finished introducing myself, she’d started shouting, “Ahn ahn! I already told you people I don’t have any money. Please please please, you people should let me rest. Your colleague called me yesterday and the day before yesterday. Why will you be calling somebody every day?”

Wait o, am I not supposed to ask them for the money they promised to pay? Shey she dey whyne me ni? Is she the only person who’s ever borrowed money? What kind of nonsense is this na? When I dropped the call, I knew I was going to score zero on QA, but God no go shame me.

Some defaulters even lie that they’ve paid and there must be something wrong with our app. Mad people.

All this stress and they’re still changing the rules. The most recent one was them introducing some kind of tier system for bonuses. Basically, even if you meet your 180 calls per day and score above 90% in QA, if you didn’t recover up to 70% of the top performer’s recovery in the team, your other two metrics have gone to waste. It’s things like these that cause unhealthy competition and working conditions.

We wouldn’t go for breaks just because we were trying to meet targets. Some people didn’t even have time to eat; they’d bring food to work and take it back home. Even me that likes to talk, my mouth was paining me.

I no longer give a fuck about the job. Imagine doing backbreaking work nine hours a day, for ₦110k a month with bonus wey no even sure. You recover millions for a company, but your money or career isn’t increasing or improving.

I’d hoped I’d grow in the role and, in two years, become a team lead or get into project management or digital marketing or something. But I’m stuck in the same role, and there’s not much room to grow, so I have to start looking out for myself.

These days, I’m just doing enough to not lose my job. I won’t do more than I’m paid for because fintech won’t kill me for my mother. All the OGs are already leaving the company. I’m just biding my time while I figure out my next move.

FRIDAY

I’m always grateful for Fridays because I’m a social butterfly. Work may weigh me down, but when I turn up? I turn up. As I turn on my laptop, all I’m looking forward to is close of work so I can go to SOUTH and unwind. I’m tired. All my body needs right now is their Long Island. The thought of it is the only thing that’ll get me through the day.

While I’m having lunch and taking a break from those annoying loan defaulters, I think about trying new things and keeping at them. In the recent past, I’ve tried project management. I finished the course, but I got bored when it was time to apply my knowledge. I’ve also tried data analysis, SQL and digital marketing, and now, I’m about to complete a course in virtual assistance. Maybe my experience in customer relations and communication would help me thrive in that role.

I often think I don’t have the grit to succeed, but maybe I’m just scared of starting over in an entry-level role. I don’t know again abeg. Too much thinking and too little time. I finish eating and get back to work.

My weekend afternoons are for the virtual assistant course I’m taking. Evenings are for “we outside”. When next Monday comes, I’ll face it bravely.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

After failing to get a job with his pharmacy degree, Nicholas* switched to content writing. Now on a ₦135k monthly salary, he’s tired of doing the same things every day to put food on the table. What’s an ideal future for him? To get crypto writing gigs that’ll make him a millionaire.

MONDAY

Every day, I wake up between 6 and 7 a.m. to do the same things: devotion, and meditation, and then I resume work at 9 a.m. I work remotely, so I only have my bath after my team’s standup meeting around 10 a.m. Then I ask my assistant to run me through my to-do list, which typically doesn’t have much to excite me.

I’m the head of communications at a company that creates courses for professional development to help people get into crypto. My job is straightforward: I manage all public relations going out of the company, including content writing and design. And even though the marketing team handles social media, all their content still has to go through me to ensure they match our brand tone and voice.

After work, I close my laptop and either pick up a book or watch TV and sleep. The next day, I do the same things all over again.

TUESDAY

In 2015, I graduated with a pharmacy degree, did my internship in 2017 and served the following year. But when I tried to get into the job market, I realised, omo, e be like this thing no too pure. From hospitals to institutions in Ebonyi and Abuja, where did I not apply to? My dad even sent my CVs up and down. After a few months, I told myself, “It’s like I will use what I have to get what I want o.”

I used to write stories before I graduated, so I decided to try content writing in early 2019. I worked for someone in the United Kingdom for six months. It was hell. The man was supposed to pay me ₦80k, but I was doing everything in the company: manager work o, designer work o, even personal assistant. But he had the nerve to still delay my chicken change salary every month.

Before my birthday in June, I begged this man to pay me my money on time. He said, “Okay, I’ll look into it.” Oya now, birthday came and passed, and man did me “Aired DFKM” on top money I worked hard for. He paid me for June in July, and delayed my August and September salaries. By October, I couldn’t take these delays anymore, so I quit.

I was out of a job until the COVID-19 lockdown in March 2020, doing odd freelance jobs and collecting small small money. Then the CEO of my current company reached out to me to join his startup. I’d edited his pitch deck for free a while back, so when he reached out to me, it was to offer me the job.

I started in the company as a content writer, and after 10 months, I got promoted to head of communications. My job is pretty monotonous these days, but I prefer it to when I worked as a pharmacy intern.

As I take my bath after morning stand-up today, I think how different my current life isfrom when I was practising pharmacy. Before, I’d have to be at work attending to patients from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. It was stressful as fuck, and I always returned home drained. Now, my schedule is flexible; I work from home, lead a team and delegate tasks.

When I get back to my work table, I dive into monotonous work for the next six hours: planning webinars, editing course content and looking for ways to improve the company’s processes for external communications — same old, same old.

WEDNESDAY

Omo, they’re dragging my boss today. The thing about startups is we make mistakes and learn as we go. In an ideal setting, the marketing team should involve me in their projects at the planning stage, But omo, these guys just created briefs, wrote up documents, got them approved by management and brought them to me to edit at the 11th hour. I was like, WTF? But management pressured me to just do it like that and keep it moving.

There was a backlash when the information went public, just as I’d warned. And as things heated up on the TL, I advised everyone to not respond to anything until we figured out damage control. But the CEO entered the dragging, and things got messy on Twitter, Facebook and in our Whatsapp community groups. I was so pissed because we could’ve handled the situation better, but this man no dey hear word. Omo, they ratioed his life so much I had to involve the company lawyer.

It’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed. But I check the time. It’s still 3 p.m. Why does time crawl when you’re not having fun?

I just mute my Twitter app and continue working on the document I’ve been drafting for the past week. It contains the plan to help smoothen the flow of information across teams to prevent stuff like this from happening in future.

THURSDAY

After all the drama of yesterday, when I woke up this morning, my body kind of refused to get the memo that work continues, but sapa is always a good motivator.

During today’s standup meeting, I ran through my plan for improving communications, and it hit me that I don’t have regrets about switching from pharmacy to content and PR sha. I sabi work; it’s just I’m not where I want to be.

These days, my life is a blur. There’s no passion. When I wake up in the morning, there’s no ginger, nothing to look forward to. I’m tired of writing just to put food on the table and pay bills. Between 2017 and 2019, I used to write stories to submit to journals and magazines, and there was always something to look forward to. I miss the thrill of getting acceptance letters and the heartbreak of rejections, for example.

Now, I’m just tired of the monotony of corporate daily life. I’m doing the same things every day and not earning enough.

My company currently pays me ₦135k net, and I get an extra ₦100 – ₦120k from freelance work. I want to earn millions, so I don’t have to take on so much work in my spare time to make up for my salary. I need to have time to create content I love.

I can’t wait for the weekend sha. I took this gig recently, writing about crypto stuff for a guy who pays me ₦8 per word. For him to be able to pay me that much, he probably earns close to a million naira monthly. He’s a middleman who gets contracts and outsources them to me, but I found someone who gets gigs from a direct source and has promised to link me up as long as I can build my portfolio and show workings. I plan to do just that, so help me God.

*Subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Today, a woman who sells loans to Nigerian police officers walks us through the chaos of dealing with aggressive officers, why she dislikes the job and her plans for the future.

Image credit: POLCOOP

I have to be at work by 8 a.m., so I wake up at six. My my mum is already preparing breakfast, so I sweep the house, take my bath, eat breakfast and prepare for work. By 7:30 a.m., I leave the house.

I work as a loan advisory officer at a company that offers loans to police officers, and my work involves convincing the officers to take the loans. It’s a weird job. Instead of outright pushing a product like the average salesperson, my work is more advisory. I show them why they need the loan and guide them through the process.

When I get to the office, it’s meetings, meetings and meetings. And then, I hit the road looking for policemen who need money.

The loan company works with the Integrated Payroll and Personnel information system (IPPIS) to offer the loans. I joined the company as a customer service agent when I wanted to move up the career ladder from being a pre-school teacher. Then the company restructured and moved me to sales. I hate anything to do with sales targets because it comes with competition.

For instance, a police officer who’d taken his first loan through me relocates to another city. When they get there, they may want to take another loan. I have to be very careful to prevent my colleagues from reaching them before me because all the company cares about is us bringing in loan requests. If I let a police officer seek loans from another advisory officer, I’ve lost. I have to be very jealous about my customers.

Before, when a police officer tells me they want ₦100k, for example, I’d just process their loan request. But, omo, I have targets to meet o. Nowadays, I upsell to them. I’ll ask, “Are you sure?” and try to convince them to ask for more. I like this part sha, because I’m improving, and I know it’s a valuable skill I’ll need when I decide to switch careers.

My life is also full of fear. Travelling outside my state so often just to convince police officers to take loans stresses me, especially with the country so insecure. I’ve heard stories of robbers attacking police stations to destabilise them before going into town to rob. My daily fear is, what if I get caught up in a crossfire?

And I’m a young lady. Have you met Nigerian policemen? Imagine meeting them every single day. The average Nigerian policeman is aggressive so I get threats and visits to the police station often. The most recent instance was after one of them applied for a loan term of six months, and for some reason, IPPIS continued deducting from his account until the eighth month. He was refunded eventually, but he refused to let it go. He’d also asked me out earlier, and I’d refused, so maybe that’s what was paining him. He came to the office, rough-handled the customer service lady and carried us to the police station where he lied that I’d disrespected him and taken his money.

After everything was resolved, I came to work the next day and nobody even looked at me. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of life, but I have to eat.

By 3 p.m., I’ve visited five police stations and scored seven leads. The economy is hard and people need more money, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I’m really tired when I get back to the office. Little do I know I’m coming back to wahala. There’s this drunkard policeman who comes to disturb me every other month. Even though I’ve explained how loans work to him, he still comes to complain when money is deducted from his salary. Why are police officers so dramatic?

The only thing that’s keeping me here is money. I’m currently still in school and I have to pay for it. ASUU strike is helping me because I don’t have to combine work and school for now. I can focus on work and learning digital skills. I look forward to a time when I no longer have to do loan officer work for Nigerian policemen every day. I’ve started learning content marketing through online courses. I practise what I learn during the weekend, and I hope to start it as a career soon.

Omo, it’s been a long day, and I can’t stress myself thinking too much about these things. I just want to go back home and rest.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

This week’s “A Week in the Life” subject is Mimi Faith, a female painter thriving in a male-dominated industry. This means dealing with gender stereotypes and misbehaviour from male clients. One thing keeps her going though: her ambition to own a home in Lagos.

MONDAY

If I have to work on the island, I’ll wake up around 4:30 a.m. to beat Monday morning traffic. If I’m working on the mainland, I can wake up a little later. But I never sleep past 6 a.m.

When I wake up also depends on whether I’ve already inspected the space I’m supposed to paint. If I have, it’s ji, ma sun, because I’ll have to leave at first light. But if I’m just going for inspection, I don’t have to rush so much. I’ll sha still get my handbag ready, put in my scraper, measuring tools, pen and paper, along with all the other tools I’ll need for the inspection.

All that doesn’t matter today because I don’t have any active jobs. So I’ll step out of my house to scout new buildings in my vicinity, or the ones under renovation. I’ll go with my brochures, colour palettes, pictures of designs and measuring tape. Depending on who I meet there — engineer, owner or site supervisor — I’ll introduce myself and find out if they already have a painter.

Most of the time, they tell me they do, but it doesn’t stop me. I’ll show them I can do designs most painters can’t because I’m not a regular painter, I’m a decorative painter. Last last, if I don’t get to work with them on a particular project, I’ll try to build a relationship so they can keep me in mind for future jobs.

I didn’t get any jobs today, but we move. Tomorrow, I go again.

TUESDAY

People are always surprised when I walk into a site, introduce myself as a painter and pitch my services. Today, an engineer shouted, “You say you’re a painter? Are you sure you can climb ladder?” I’m a woman in what people consider a male-dominated industry, so the disbelief isn’t surprising.

Some don’t believe me even after I show them photos of my work, including photos of me at work. Most of the people I meet on building sites give me small jobs to test if I can actually do what I said I do. Some ask me if I’m the one who actually does the painting or if I want to collect the job to outsource it to men. When I finally get the jobs, the site supervisors will keep coming to make sure I’m doing as I said.

Thankfully, most of my jobs come from social media and referrals. Since I post about my work consistently, and I’ve done work for many social media connections, my online audience trusts my work. At 10 a.m, while I was at a site close to my house, someone reached out to me on a Facebook mutual’s recommendation.

Their compound wasn’t too far from where I was, so I quickly headed over there, inspected the apartment and negotiated payment. It’s a quick job that won’t take more than two days so I spent the rest of the day buying paints and prepping the building for tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY

I worked on the apartment all day and lost track of time. It was only until my boyfriend called that I realised it was already past six. When I was on the bus, I realised how tired I was. All that was on my mind was the kind of deep sleep I’d get when I got home.

My boyfriend gave me the massage of my life, and I slept off before I knew it.

THURSDAY

Pinterest got me into painting. And it was even by mistake. I’ve always liked do-it-yourself (DIY) crafts. Two years ago, I was trying to decorate my house and needed to install wallpapers, so I went on Pinterest for inspiration. Before long, I started looking into wallpaper installation classes online. Soon after, I followed a guy on Instagram, who would eventually train me.

But the turning point was seeing the painting design he did in his corridor. I fell in love with it. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a painter. Even though wallpaper installation was easier to learn, I quickly got bored.

Today, I went to finish up yesterday’s work and had to face the hardest thing about my job: painting ceilings. It’s not that I’m short o; it’s just everyone is taller than me. When I’m painting high points like ceilings, my neck and shoulders scream in pain. But I push through the pain because I chose this work, so how woman go do?

By 2 p.m., I was done and the owner of the apartment was happy. Job done; smiles guaranteed. On to the next one.

FRIDAY

When I first started painting, I met a lot of nonsense men. I quickly realised safety was — and may always be — an issue. Most men contact me to come and inspect their space, but when I get there, they’ll be like, “I been just wan see you”. When it’s not madness.

I’ve tried a few things to prevent situations like this. Sometimes, I ask for photos and videos of the place to be painted, so I can gauge how serious they are. But people don’t know how to take pictures or record videos well. Some are so bad I have to go and check out the place anyway.

There was a guy who reached out to me to check out his place. We fixed an appointment, and when I got there, he started telling me things like, “I don finally see you for real life.”. What’s my business? You called me for painting and you’re now telling me to sit down and talk and go out on a date. I just carried my bag and started going back home.

Sometimes, men even ask for a date as a condition to hire me.

My own is let it end in talk sha. Let nobody come close to me or touch me. So I go with a colleague if I have a bad feeling about a potential client.

What really pains me is how people assume I get jobs automatically because I’m a woman. When in reality, people are always doubting me, especially when it comes to pricing. Very often, I hear things like, “Na because say you be woman, na hin you dey charge this much?” Some people think they’re supporting me or doing me a favour.

Male painters don’t go through all these shalaye. They just negotiate, do the work and collect their money. When it’s my turn, people will be doing plenty permutations.

We move sha, because for me, every job is an advert. I want someone to walk into any room I painted and ask who painted it. I focus on doing excellent work, exceeding expectations and getting referrals. My online presence is helping me very well, and some repeat clients still call for me no matter where they are in Nigeria.

To be honest, I’ve been fortunate. When I was starting out, a Facebook friend hired me to repaint her apartment. While I was painting, she went live on Facebook and was broadcasting to her friends. Someone noticed I was standing on an inverted bucket to reach the ceiling and offered to buy me a ladder. I thought it was a joke, said thank you and kept it moving. Omo, after I finished, the person said he was serious o, that I should find out the price and let her know. He later sent me the ₦35k for the ladder. That was one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me.

SATURDAY

Today, I locked down a contract for a building on the island from a referral, as usual. I start work next week and should be done in three to five days. It’s a big deal for me because it’s another chance to show that I sabi this work. I’ll use this weekend to rest and recharge. Next week, I’ll go there and kill it.

Stuck in traffic heading back to the mainland, I had the chance to reflect on my work. Normally, I feel like I’m not doing enough, but today, I feel fantastic. I’m just two years into this career, and it surprises me how much I’ve grown. I want to be the best I can be, and I know I can do anything I set my mind to — except cook egusi sha.

I’ve worked with women who’ve achieved a lot — women like the one whose house I’m coming from. I see women rent, build and buy houses in expensive areas of Lagos, and I know I want to do the same. The one that pains me sha, is when they say my work ethic inspires them. I dey inspire you, but na you dey build house for Lekki. Please.

By the time I get home around 8 p.m., my boyfriend has prepared dinner — rice and stew. But it’s not enough. It’s been a long week, my body is paining me and the weather is cold. I want a massage and plenty cuddling.

If you liked this story, also read: I’m the Only Woman at My Job — A Week in the Life of An Oil and Gas Engineer at Sea

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

What’s it like to be a receptionist in Lagos? It involves a lot of patience. In this week’s “A Week in the Life”, Ogechukwu Agwu, a receptionist who works at an FMCG company in Lagos, tells us about dealing with snobbish callers, reporting co-workers who come late to work and why she’s grateful for her job.

MONDAY

I never use an alarm because my body just knows I need to get up and chase capitalism. Every morning, I wake up at 5 a.m., and then, I join my family’s morning devotion for 15 minutes.

For the next 45 minutes, I prepare lunch for my family, have my bath and dress up. By 6 a.m, I’m ready for work, but I don’t leave the house until 6:30 for security reasons and because of my eyesight, as I have myopia.

I must be early to work because, as a receptionist at a fast moving consumer goods (FMCG) company at Abule Oshun, Lagos, I’m the face of the office and the first person anyone meets when they step into the building.

I arrive at 7:45, and when I step into the office, I wash my hands and feet from the dust of public transport and bad roads. I also wash my face and hair, top up my moisturiser and sunscreen, and mentally prepare myself for the day.

On Mondays, the sales teams and company affiliates come in for several back-to-back meetings, so there are always so many people around. As I brace myself and mentally prepare to attend to many people today, a salesman opens the door, comes in and says hello. I look at my watch and see it’s ten minutes to eight. His arrival is my cue that the first day of a long week has started.

TUESDAY

Apart from the very many salespeople, the rest of the week follows the same pattern: take calls, meet people, take records and help them reach solutions. If a driver comes in and needs to deliver a package, I’m the person they turn to. If an order for a shipment comes through and the driver needs to pick up their products, it’s me they’ll meet.

This also means I have to deal with all kinds of people, both well-mannered ones and the ones with attitude. The “do you know who I am” energy around here is insane. Someone can come in and want to walk straight into the offices, and I’m like, “Hi. Good morning. Who are you here to see?” and they’re looking at me like, who is this crap?

Such is the life of a receptionist.

WEDNESDAY

On a normal day, do I like meeting or talking to people? No. But I like this job. This is one of the best companies I’ve ever worked at, where what they promised in my job description is what I’m doing — not much extra work. And even the extra work sef, it’s beg they’ll be begging. So when I’m at work, I give 100% and feel fulfilled.

Some days, I just come to work, sit down and go home. But there are days when I have to be on my feet, running around and trying to sort out issues here and there. A big part of my work is attending to the drivers moving products, and they give me serious headache.

Like a driver today, he came to carry 100 cartons of products, but the vehicle he came with couldn’t possibly contain everything. Man just came to sign. I looked through my window and asked him, “Wait o. Is that your vehicle?” In cases like this, the warehouse may have documented for him to carry 200 cartons first and come back for the remaining 300. But these drivers won’t inform me. So when it’s time to balance the books, my own documents won’t correlate with the warehouse people’s.

I spent the rest of today fighting fires — calling people up to balance out documents, a driver’s diesel finished and needed money, another person needed money to replace truck tires.

By the time I got home, it was almost 8 p.m. I was so tired, I didn’t even do my full skincare routine. I just took my micellar water, cleaned my face, had my bath and closed my eyes to sleep.

THURSDAY

What I dislike most about work isn’t work. It’s the process of getting to work. Even though I’ve been working here for a year now, I’ve still not gotten used to the daily commute. I’m not an early morning person, so it’s always a struggle.

One time, I had to squat in a bus carrying pineapples and other farm produce because there was no danfo on the road. The bus didn’t have any seats, so I squatted all the way from Volks to Abule Oshun. By the time I got to the office, I was already tired.

One of my duties as a receptionist is to check the roster for arrival times of co-workers and mark lateness. In this company, lateness starts at 8:30 a.m. Anyone who comes in by 8:31 gets ₦500 deducted from their salary per late day at the end of the month. Anyone who arrives after 9 a.m is minus ₦1k, 10 a.m is minus ₦2k, and so on. At the end of the month, I draft an Excel sheet to report defaulters.

When I joined the company last year, the lateness deadline used to be 9 a.m, possibly because of the COVID-19 pandemic, but human beings know how to misuse grace. People started coming by 10, 11, so my boss pushed the deadline back to 8:30 a.m. and imposed the fines. People sat up immediately. But it pained me because now, I have to rush to the office before eight o’clock every morning, especially as I’m the first point of call in the company.

I’ve only ever come late to work once — around to nine — and of course, they reduced my money by ₦500. I couldn’t even disguise because, as I entered the office late, I jammed HR. But no wahala sha. Never again.

Roseline wearing the glasses frames she sells

FRIDAY

It’s TGIF today, but not for me because my Saturdays are to chill. I also have time for my side business selling frames for eyeglasses.

When I left my office today at 4:30, it hit me that for once in a very long time, I’m actually enjoying my day job. Because me, I’ve seen shege.

In my previous job, I was both receptionist and cashier at a lab on the island, where I worked six days a week. I was also an errand girl they sent to the bank. It was a horrible place to work, and I barely had personal or family time. But I now have time to do things like chill with family and attend choir rehearsals and still run a side-hustle without stress.

As I board the danfo, I know I’ll get home before 7 p.m despite the rush hour traffic, and cook dinner for my family.

If you loved this receptionist’s story, you may enjoy: A Week in the Life of an NCDC Call Centre Agent

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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

For this interview, I’m speaking with Joel*, a 23-year-old ghostwriter based in Port Harcourt. He tells me how his babe commanded him to leave his exes, losing ₦2.1m in failed investments and how they’re making their relationship work, dating in Port Harcourt and Owerri, on a combined monthly income of ₦325k in 2022.

Average Monthly Income

Varies, but it’s north of ₦200k on most months. Averages around ₦270k monthly.

Occupation

Freelance writer. Writes books and articles. Occasionally invests and holds his breath because, have you seen the forex market? That shit is wild.

Location

Lives in Choba, Port Harcourt. Partner lives in Owerri.

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

Rent: ₦10k (₦120k annually)
Netflix: ₦3,600

Fuel, generator repair and maintenance: ₦23k (or more, depending on the mood of mechanics and fuelling stations)

Water: ₦4k

Food: ₦50k+ (depending on how my palate sways)

House dues: ₦4k

Data subscription: ₦15k

Airtime: ₦2k

Black tax: ₦15k+

Savings: Vibes and as the spirit leads. I’ve completely trashed my budget this year. If you use budget follow this country, you can die.

How long have you been in your relationship?

32 months.

How much does your partner earn?

₦50k on average. But it can be anywhere from ₦30k – ₦100k. She’s also a writer; she writes SEO, blogs and articles.

How did y’all start dating?

We were friends since 2018 but kept things strictly platonic. In 2019, she invited me over and told me to get rid of the other women I was seeing because she wanted me. She’s an Igbo woman, so I obliged.

Just like that?

Well, that’s an exaggerated version. The details are much grimmer.

I was in an entanglement with two other girls, one by emotional blackmail and the second by sheer dumb luck. I couldn’t find a way out. So my current babe, who I was already friends with, told me to just dump them, and followed up until I did.

I —

LOL. She even threatened me to be quick, lest her other suitors show up and marry her. I did as asked and we spent the remainder of the year seeing if we’d work out.

Whew. Why did you accept?

Well, for one, I actually liked her. She was more introverted than the two girls holding me hostage.

Secondly, we planned to go out when next I visited her and agreed I’d bankroll the whole thing. But on the day of the outing, she suggested I kept my money; she’d make us something to eat and we’d stay indoors to watch cheesy movies instead. I had puppy eyes immediately.

A finished man

Make she finish me before Nigeria finish me, abeg.

Also, when I arrived at her place, she didn’t expect I’d come in so early. I didn’t even call to ask for directions apart from what she sent earlier. So, I caught her in her most natural state: hair tousled, still in her pajamas and playing with her friends. She was as beautiful underdressed as she was when she dressed up.

Then again, she’s short and thick — I’m talking fleshy thighs, toned arms, tiny, baby hands and legs. Has a round face with plump cheeks. Natural hair. Small, button nose. Too many positives to count.

Anyway, despite wooing me, telling me what to do and saying she liked me first, she still demanded that I ask her out officially. We technically started dating in November 2019 but made it official on January 1st, 2020.

LMAO, Okay. How much were y’all earning then?

She was earning nada, but I finished the year with a savings of about ₦250k.

How did it go from there?

She didn’t have a phone or laptop when we met, because she’d already been robbed twice in one year. So, when she went home for the holidays, I contributed to her efforts to get a new one. Her parents couldn’t be bothered to buy her three smartphones in one year.

Then COVID happened in 2020, and I encouraged her to try content writing, as she’d previously worked as a typist. Soon after, she landed her first gig, which was worth over ₦250k spread across six months. On the other hand, I scaled up and made my first million.

Take this quiz: How Will You Make Your First Million Dollars?

About that million…

Well, there was a pandemic and school shut down. I was a student then, so my biggest money drain was gone. Meantime, I landed two high-profile clients: one in the Bahamas and another in the United States; both personable and relatively chill people.

After my first job for the Bahamian, she contacted me for two more books and several articles spread across the year. Besides the agreed cost of each job, she tipped well. Imagine getting a $200 tip on a $200 job!

The American was just as big a tipper. I became part of the team writing his dream book. We spoke often — video and voice calls, and as someone who lived in Nigeria at some point, he understood the cost. So, once in a while, he’d send me $200 for data. When my dad passed away, he sent me $200 as a consolation gift, and later, a $150 Christmas gift.

I funnelled most of that money into forex and was earning up to 80% of my capital in ROIs. By October 2020, I had a little over a million in illiquid capital, ₦400k in savings and ₦150k in disposable income.

Balling student!

Meh. I dropped out last year. I’ll be enrolling again next year sha. I’m just 23, but I can’t deal with this public school system no more. And I want to switch from mechanical engineering to studying English.

Okay, tell me more about your babe’s finances

Well, she’s been trying to scale her craft. Some of the clients she got either default or send her gigs inconsistently. During the epidemic of tech bros at the height of the pandemic, she had contracts with several of them. But since their business plan only involved looking like they knew what they were doing without getting any work done, they quickly went under. Some are still owing her to date. Her income has suffered, but she dey push am.

I’ve introduced her to friends and associates, meantime, and I send her jobs when I find them.

Okay. So how much do you budget for relationship sturvs these days?

On average, I spend up to ₦35k when taking her on dates to fancy places, ₦25k for semi-fancy and ₦15k for an ice cream date. If she’s feeling down, I can cheer her up by sending her money or buying her cake and Hollandia. She also loves jewellery, so pretty pennies have gone down those vices as well. There’s the occasional “I want to make my hair, gimme money” where I chuck in up to half of the cost. Then, [sanitary] pads — she hasn’t bought one herself since 2021.

EDITOR’S PICK: What’s Dating Like in Abuja on a ₦180k Monthly Salary?

Since you don’t live in the same city, walk me through expenses in a typical staycation

When I visit her, I usually take along supplies to ensure I don’t become a financial burden. Sometimes, I go with raw food like garri, rice and beans — basically, Tinubu’s list. Other times, I buy cereal, milk, sanitary pads and any other thing she wants but doesn’t want to buy herself. My phone is full of lists.

I also buy fuel to run the gen and contribute to daily expenses. I usually time my stay for a week or two at most, and pay for dates except for times she insists.

When she visits me, it’s a different dynamic. I’m fully prepared to deal with 100% of all the expenses and have probably set some money apart for a few dates or takeouts. I get her stuff she likes beforehand, like candy, cereal, milk, butter, biscuits, drinks, etc.

I also cook because she has a specific welcome food: jollof, peppered turkey and Hollandia — unless otherwise stated. So, I try to get that settled before she gets to my place. If I can’t prepare it myself, I make a quick run to a nearby restaurant.

Occasionally, she feels bad for not chipping in like I do at hers and offers to pay for Netflix, buy a keg of fuel or refill the fridge with [bottled] water. I tell her not to worry, but she doesn’t listen.

What kind of conversations do you have with her about money?

Money is a weird topic between us. We don’t often talk about it because she’s a very emotional person, and is prone to being depressed when she doesn’t think she’s doing very well. I bear the bulk of our financials and leave room for her to contribute her little, so she doesn’t feel entirely dependent. She’s always so happy to bail me out when I come calling. What I do is, I often exaggerate the situation so she can feel good about coming through for me. Keeps her happy, keeps me happy.

Give me an instance

So, about last week [July 2022], I ran out of fuel and needed to refill about 35 litres, which would cost ₦6,300. I was reluctant to spend out of my emergency funds because my paycheque got delayed for a bit. I told her I didn’t have money to fill both jerry cans, and that I might not even turn on the gen. She sent me half the money.

Interesting…

We sha don’t assume that just because we’re helping out the other person, they’re totally helpless.

Okay. So do you have a financial safety net?

My babe has her parents, especially her mum. They work and earn pretty decent incomes.

I have about ₦450k saved in fixed deposits sha. But my safety net for illnesses is my ₦50k emergency fund. For more devastating catastrophes, I’ve got nothing.

Hollup, what happened to those your millions?

Well, when the forex market turned in 2020, that was when cryptocurrencies first started their free-fall. Next, other things were taking a hit — bad trades and whatnot — and almost ₦2m from my life savings went with the wind.

Waaaaait —

Yep. I went from millionaire as of November 2020 to peasant on January 1st, 2021. I literally had no money to my name except what I’d previously stashed in the fixed deposit while saving for a new apartment.

How did your partner take it?

I didn’t tell her how much I’d put in, but she was still pissed AF. Also, I’d convinced her to invest too — she put in ₦150k of her own money into forex. So when things went to shit, I promised to refund her capital myself so she could take her mind off it. As time went on, we just… sorta moved on.

RELATED: #NairaLife: The PR Consultant With a History of Investment Scams

Wild! Okay, so what’s the ideal financial future you want for yourself and your partner?

One where we can afford our needs and luxurious tastes without backbreaking work. Like, as much as I love to cook, I’d prefer to have an in-house chef. Rather than tour the same 15 restaurants within my area, how about breakfast in Paris and lunch in Dubai, you know?

I’m eager to get long-term investments to reap huge payoffs in the future. But I can’t find anything decent in Nigeria yet. Do we even have a stock exchange? I can’t even be bothered with banks because they produce the dumbest results. Someone put in ₦20k on a bank share in the early 2000s and reaped ₦16k in the 2020s. What the fuck?

Anyway, I’m trying to build a network and become financially literate, meantime. I currently have my eyes on angel investing. In a nutshell, I want to get some good generational wealth going. It’s my biggest goal, as is hers.

*subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity.

*This interview has been edited for structure and clarity.

Liked this story? I bet you’ll like this too: What’s Dating Like in Lagos on a ₦300k Monthly Salary?

If you’re interested in talking (anonymously) about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start.

Yes, interview me!
“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

What’s it like to be a skincare formulator in Nigeria today? For Happylyte, it means producing carefully crafted products made with love, yet fighting logistics drivers and dealing with dishonest suppliers every day. But she’s taking her struggles in stride because her eyes are on the prize — to become a medical aesthetician someday.

MONDAY

I work from home, so I don’t have to rush anywhere.

But I prepare for work as if I have to go to a physical office. By 8 a.m., I’m at my desk, replying to inquiries and confirming payments for my products.

Life here in Makurdi is very peaceful. The labour and rent costs are low — my delivery person charges ₦1k or less to take my products around town or to the bus park for interstate deliveries, and my two-bedroom flat which includes my lab, costs just ₦400k per year.

But living in Makurdi is not the best for my business. I’m a one-woman company, and running this business is a lot and can be very monotonous. I used to have staff, but they weren’t producing the quality I needed — it’s hard to find quality technical labour in Makurdi. Luckily, I can make phone calls while I work. I just connect my Airpods and talk to friends and family for hours. I work until night — sometimes, I even sleep at 2 a.m.

TUESDAY

Tuesdays are the same as Mondays. But sometimes, like today, I order raw materials. Depending on which I want, I can order from Japan, India, Korea or Lagos. For oils, herbs and spices, India has the best.

I got my plug from Instagram, from a lady who orders in bulk for vendors because the oils are expensive, and minimum order quantity costs are too large for me to bear alone. I join money with other skincare formulators to place orders. When they arrive in Nigeria, she distributes them to us.

When I want cosmetic powders, I order from China. I used to order from Lagos, but as my business grew, I switched because I get better quality from abroad, and it’s way cheaper when buying in bulk. I get sunscreen from Korea and Japan.

Ordering from Lagos is extreme sports because anybody can scam you at any time. Some of the powders I use to formulate my skincare products are very similar. They’re white and their textures are almost the same. There was one time I got chemicals from Lagos.

I ordered alpha arbutin, which is soluble in water, but the supplier sent kojic dipalmitate, which only dissolves in oil but is much cheaper. The best way to test it before using is to put some in water and determine which one dissolves and which doesn’t. But that day, I was in a hurry, so I added the powder to the mixture, which included water. That’s when things got interesting.

Alpha arbutin doesn’t tolerate heat, so it’s usually the last thing I add when formulating creams. When the powder didn’t dissolve, I realised it was kojic dipalmitate which ruined the whole formula, and I lost over ₦200k. I was wrecked.

What did the vendor do? She told me, “Sorry, ma.”

My delivery guy sha returned to the supplier’s shop, and the woman gave him some almond oil worth ₦16k to compensate me.

Very agbero people, these Lagos suppliers. Sometimes, when I order carrot essential oil, they’ll send me a carrot carrier oil instead. But no be every time person dey fall mugu. I now know what to look out for, so when I see it’s not what I ordered, I return it and make them correct my order and pay the delivery fees. Nonsense!

WEDNESDAY

Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from bus drivers. I had to refund a customer’s package today. It got lost in transit, and the logistics company was giving me story. Logistics will make you run mad.

One called me and was asking me to describe the place I wanted him to deliver to. How would I know? I’ve never been to Onitsha in my life. I gave you the receiver’s number for a reason for God’s sake.

I’m always tranferring aggression with drivers. When a driver shouts at a customer, the customer calls me and shouts at me. Then I’ll call the driver and shout at them, and on and on it goes.

But that’s not even the worst. In 2020, I had a driver who took my parcel home and gifted it to his wife.

After ignoring my calls for days, this man blocked my number. A week later, his wife called me to ask me how to use the products. When I asked her what and what was in the parcel, and where was her location, she told me, “Gboko.” I checked my records, and I never sent anything to Gboko .

I asked her where she got the products from. She told me it was her husband who bought them for her from Abuja. I asked if her husband drives for Benue Links. She said yes, sometimes. I told her, “Your husband is a thief ma. He stole your parcel.” She also cut the call and blocked my number. Like husband, like wife.

Every Wednesday, I always tie my belt for drama from drivers. I’ve been in this business for years, but you can never get used to the rubbish.

THURSDAY

A mistake people make too often is using products because they work for someone else. Just because someone says, “This one works for me,” you now drop the one you were using and run and go and buy that one. The lack of consistency and shifting goalposts every now and then will ruin your skin. Why are you using so many skincare products?

Someone can hear someone say, “Oh my God, this moisturiser was so good for me.” And then you with dry skin that’s supposed to be using a moisturiser that has plenty oil and lots of hydrators — you’ll now leave the one they made for you and go and another person’s own, and then your skin will now be cracking.

I’ve had a situation like that and her skin cracked so bad I had to recommend her to the dermatologist because that one don pass my power. I can make skincare products but I’ve not licensed to treat skin diseases.

FRIDAY

I don’t have a degree in chemistry — I studied economics in uni — but I’ve taken several training cosmetic formulation classes online, from Udemy, Coursera and The Formulator’s Shop. And there’s nothing I love more than listening to dermatologists and cosmetoligists talk on websites like Making Cosmetics, Brambleberry and Soap Queen. Offline, I learnt to make black soap and shea butter from local producers.

I have processes and products that ensure my products are safe. If I want to make body cream, for example, the first thing I do is decide what I want that body cream to do. Do I want it to be a moisturiser? Do I want it to have a brightening effect, etc? The hardest part about formulating skincare and cosmetics is creating — and sticking to — the formula. It involves plenty maths and accuracy. I have to determine the types of active formulas I want to use, their percentages and how they can work with each other instead of against each other.

Before packaging, I stabilise my creams at a pH safe for the skin (4-5 – 5.5). For soaps, they need to be more basic (7.5 – 9) because if soaps are too acidic, they’ll not foam.

I keep my products for at least a month. During this time, every week, I check for the smell, whether there’s mould growing on it and also check for consistency, making sure they’re exactly the same as the first day I made them. After that first phase of testing, I try the products on myself.

I have a very sensitive skin, so if it’s a bad product, my skin reacts immediately and I dump it. If it’s a good product, my skin would accept it, then I start sending them out in batches. My close family and friends usually try my products for me before I launch them too.

Sometimes I go to the inbox of customers and I say, “Oh, I have a product I’m trying out. Would you like to help me test it out?” When they do — because nobody says no to free products — they give me their honest review, then I make amendments before releasing them to the market. My formulation process usually takes about three months.

I don’t let anyone into my lab, not even my mother. I don’t even open the windows in that place. Because if something funny blows in, it can touch something it’s not supposed to touch. I control the temperature with a fan and then the AC from my sitting room filters into the lab.

I also label all my ingredients on the products so people know what they’re putting on their skin. I don’t claim to be an organic skincare maker because some of these people just mix a bunch of stuff they’re not really sure about.

SATURDAY

After such a challenging week, today went great. I didn’t have any problems with delivery or with customers.

Asides from the occasional difficult customer, my customers are great. I’ve managed to build myself into a brand that people trust and I’m grateful.

When I go to bed tonight, I’ll dream of the future. I’m trying to be a medical aesthetician. I want to be trained and certified to give chemical peels. When I started becoming interested in skincare, I never know it’d turn to a business. I was just doing it because I liked local soaps and creams.

But if I become a medical aesthetician, I will be cetified to administer things like chemical peels which require special training. In the next three years, I hope to take SIDESCO and CIBTEC exams and take my career to the next level.

I’m smiling as I’m thinking about my dreams and logging into Netflix. Thank God for the weekend.

If you liked this story, also read: The Doctor Who Ditched Clinical Practice to Sell Perfumes — A Week in the Life

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In our Love Currency series, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different Nigerian cities.

For this interview, I’m speaking with Okoye*, a 29-year-old freelance writer based in Lagos. He tells me how he recovered from a gambling addiction with the help of his lover in 2021, and also how he’s managing his now two-year-old relationship with a single mother, on a ₦300k salary.

*subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity.

Total monthly income

It fluctuates. But ₦300k on average.

Occupation

Freelance writer — with a focus on finance (crypto, especially) and sports.

Bills and recurring expenses

I don’t pay rent because I still live with my parents. My dad, sister and mum contribute to it. Meanwhile, I’m saving up to get my family out of the trenches.

Food: ₦50k because we buy foodstuff in bulk most of the time.

Data: ₦20 – 25k.

Savings for relocating family: ₦80k in the last two months.

Black Tax: Upkeep for my parents and sisters rounds out at about ₦30k.

Miscellaneous: I pay for courses occasionally, and those take around ₦20k.

Netflix: Around ₦4k monthly.

How long have you been in a relationship?

Two years and two months.

How much does your partner earn?

She’s an online thrift vendor, so her income isn’t steady. But she makes an average of ₦80k weekly, which amounts to roughly ₦320k monthly. On some good months, she makes up to ₦400k.

How did y’all start dating?

Around February 2020, I saw her comment on a mutual friend’s post and playfully replied that I liked her but was holding myself back from sliding into her DMs. She responded, “Dey there na.”

So I quickly DMed her. But our initial conversations were stilted. She was mostly unavailable, and I struggled to reach her. She’d just left her ex and was learning to raise her two-year-old son on her own.

But in March, when the lockdown started, she had more time on her hands, so we started talking more often. By April 8, 2020, I chyked her, and she agreed.

How much were you earning then?

I was barely making ₦100k consistently, but we were on lockdown, so the pressure wasn’t much. We were OK with just calls; no need to travel (she doesn’t live in Lagos). We dated virtually until December 2020, when she visited Lagos for an event, and I booked a hotel (I live with my parents).

That was the first time we met.

With such limited income, what gave you the mind to toast a single mother?

I believe I’m an interesting person, and I’m relentless about doing better for myself. So even then, I knew it was just a matter of time, I would eventually earn more money. Also, I’d dated women higher on the social ladder before, and it didn’t freak me out.

Secondly, I really liked her personality. Once I like somebody, and I feel we might vibe well after watching them for a bit, omo, na to shoot shot o. What’s the worst that could happen?

A focused king! Okay, how did it go from there?

Funny, after December 2020, it took another seven months for us to see again, but under unpalatable circumstances. I’d been battling a gambling addiction and was in debt and I’d hidden it from everyone.

Related: The #NairaLife of a Gambling Addiction

But one day, I lost a bet after borrowing money. When the creditors came to look for me, I got overwhelmed, so I left home, booked a hotel, shut my phone off and went to bed. My partner panicked when she couldn’t reach me. When I switched my phone back on the next day, I saw her barrage of messages. So I opened up to her.

I still don’t know how our relationship survived that.

Gist me

I panicked and told her I wanted to break up — I couldn’t continue with the relationship because I thought I had too much baggage. I was over ₦350k in debt from gambling — ₦150k credit from the betting house and ₦200k from loan apps. I thought no one would want to deal with my mess. But she got pissed that I was saying “nonsense”.

Tell me more

Omo. She said it was unfair that I wouldn’t even give her a chance to decide on her own. She did say we should take a break, but she wasn’t going to leave me hanging. She would keep tabs on me to make sure I was okay.

After two weeks, she asked for my account details and passwords so she could track my expenses, and then, she helped me work on a repayment plan. She also suggested I leave my environment — the betting centre was close by — and go stay with her for a while.

RELATED STORY: For 2 Years I Didn’t Win a Single Bet — A Week in the Life of a Gambler

How did you get out of that rut?

I was humbled by her faith in me, so I resolved to get myself out of the mess. I went to visit her and stayed there for a month. I wasn’t her favourite person during that period, but she was very supportive. But I bonded with her toddler so well, he didn’t want me to leave, and that helped.

The change of environment did wonders. I applied for and got ghostwriting gigs that brought in the much-needed cash. My partner had my account details, so she monitored my expenses and ensured I didn’t relapse. I didn’t want to disappoint her again, which helped me stay focused on dealing with the addiction. After that month, I went to live with my aunty. Gradually, I paid off my debts.

It was hard to win her trust again, but by November, our situation improved.

What happened next?

We began to plan for a vacation in December (2021). She visited Lagos, and we toured the city for a few days. I visited her soon after, and we had a staycation. Those were the best two weeks of our relationship.

How much do you budget for relationship sturvs these days?

It’s as the spirit leads. For example, the last time I visited her, sales were poor that week, so I helped her stock up on groceries and provisions before I left. When she wanted a second phone to use as her business line, I gave her ₦40k — a third of the total cost. It’s the little I could do.

When I need help, she comes through as well. We buy each other gifts: ₦15 – ₦20k here, ₦40k there, depending on our finances. She gives me more physical gifts — clothes, slides, etc., while I give cash and the occasional gift.

How much do you spend on vacations?

We make calculations and split costs. We spent around ₦120k over four days on our last vacation in Lagos and split 60/40 — 60% for me, 40% for her. Our hotel room cost ₦12k per night; beach waka took like ₦25k, including cab fares. We spent the rest on bar hopping around Surulere. Food cost us around ₦25k.

Since we don’t live in the same state, we spend the most on each other when we meet. In May 2022, I carried my brokeass to her house. She practically fed me for the first two weeks of my one-month stay and sorted all the bills because I wasn’t getting writing gigs for a hot minute.

But things picked up for me, and I took over payments for the rest of my stay.

What kind of conversations do you have with your woman about money?

We’ve decided to be lovers for the long haul, so we discuss long-term plans. We want to expand her business. I’ve suggested getting a physical location and diversifying what she sells. Her thrift business fluctuates, and I’d like her to be more stable. We’re currently making progress with that.

One of the things we agreed on was to start ajo — ₦100k monthly savings. This month, she’ll pack ₦1.2m and launch the new business line.

RELATED: A Week in the Life of an Instagram Thrift Vendor

What about you?

I wasn’t business-minded before, but I’ve started to make small investments. My goal is to make an average of ₦800k – ₦1m by next year at least. I’m also learning about the stock market to improve my portfolio and build wealth, and taking courses in comprehensive digital marketing, covering Facebook ads, Google ads, etc. With this new knowledge, I’ll run better ads and boost sales for my woman. I plan to learn about drop shipping once I’m done.

Do you have a financial safety net?

At the moment, no. I’ve spent so much in the last couple of years, I’m practically resetting my life. I don’t like the place I currently live with my family, so I’m hustling to get us out of here soonest.

My saving grace is, worst-case scenario, there are people who see me as credit-worthy. But I’m trying to double my hustle, so I can run family expenses and build a safety net while at it.

What’s the ideal financial future you want for yourself and your partner?

I want investments in real estate and stable sources of income that would see us making a collective income of at least $4,000 monthly. I’d also like an impressive stock portfolio of low-risk investments to assure our kids of a better quality of life than I’ve had.

Liked this story? I bet you’ll like this too: What’s Dating Like in Abuja on a ₦180k Monthly Salary?

If you’re interested in talking (anonymously) about how you manage money in your relationship, this is a good place to start.

Yes, interview me!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s A Week in the Life is Hero Lewis, a maths teacher based in Port Harcourt. He talks about learning patience on the job, why he misses flogging students and the aspect of his job that brings him the most joy.

Cover image via iStock

MONDAY

Every Monday, except I’m exhausted, I wake up by 4 a.m. and commit my day to God’s hands. I grab breakfast, freshen up and mentally prepare myself for the week. Then, I get ready for work.

Transport to school can range from ₦150 to ₦250 depending on if I use a keke or cab. I arrive at 7:30 a.m. and join the assembly, which lasts from 8 to 8:20 a.m., after which students disperse to their classes and the bell for the first-period rings.

I teach math at a senior secondary school, and the first item on my schedule is to teach SS1 for two 40-minute periods. I teach maths and physics from SS1 to SS3, so my Mondays are jampacked until school closes.

After school today, I stumbled into two students from Uniport who’re doing pre-degrees and trying to gain admission into 100 level. They needed help with maths, so I assessed them, only to discover how bad they were. But I promised to tutor them.

The economy isn’t smiling, so I take classes outside my day job at school. Some students from my class convince their parents to enrol them in my after-school classes. So, even when I close from school by 4 p.m., work has not finished. I move to different places around town for private tutorials.

From Monday to Sunday, I have private classes until 7 p.m. when I truly close from work. I only compensate for all the stress by making sure I rest at night.

TUESDAY

Maths is boring and tiring, and if you don’t teach it in an atmosphere of joy, you won’t get anywhere with your students. That’s why I have a few tricks. For example, when I walk into a class, I don’t just start teaching. I take a few minutes to tell an interesting or funny story. When my students are really feeling the story, and I’ve caught their attention, then I start teaching.

But it doesn’t end there. I take short breaks to crack a joke and tell a relatable story. When I ask a question students can’t answer correctly, I correct them with care so they’re not demoralised. Many students look forward to my class.

When parents hire me for private tutorials, nine times out of ten, the student asked them to because I teach them very well at school but they want to do even better. These days, I’m overbooked, so if someone wants to hire me to tutor them, omo, the money has to have serious weight.

Thank God good work has a way of advertising itself because, again, the economy is not smiling. That’s why I invest a lot of time into being a better teacher each day. After all, it’s from where person work person go chop. If they do the work well, they would chop well.

Hero Lewis in class

WEDNESDAY

Irrespective of where you come from, numbers remain numbers. Maths is the most universal language. That’s what I always tell my students. So if a child’s maths foundation is faulty, they would struggle. I’ve seen students change what they wanted to study because math is hard and their foundations aren’t solid.

Earlier in my career, there was an SS1 student who was terrible at maths. I was called to help them, and based on “I believe myself die”, I dived right in. After assessing him, I was shocked. The boy’s rate of assimilation was very low. And the thing about parents is, when they hire tutors, they expect magic. They expect to start seeing results immediately. They want their children who were bottom of the class to start blasting A’s next term.

Unfortunately, this boy failed the next exam. So I had to switch tactics. I started by helping him revise the multiplication table — it’s not every time you depend on calculator. I went back to the very root to teach him things he should’ve already known before getting to SS1. I taught him foundational fractions, decimals, percentages, profit and loss, etc. It took months, but it was worth it because they’re building blocks. Gradually, he started catching up. I would ask, “eight times seven,” and he would respond, “56!” in a blink of an eye.

One day, the boy won a maths drill in assembly and received a voucher as a reward. The principal called his parents and confirmed their son had improved in maths and sciences. I’ve never been happier.

THURSDAY

As a maths teacher, the most valuable lesson I’ve learnt is patience. Secondary school students are a handful and every day is a test. But I have the experience to handle stubbornness without losing my head.

But it’s not always been rosy. There are some people who challenge your every sense of restraint. Like one SS3 girl a few years ago. I swear children like her can ruin someone’s career. I was hired to tutor her for WAEC, but I was brought in late. There wasn’t enough time because I had to go back to primary school level to even make a mark. Unfortunately, it was too little too late.

In the early years of my career, there were students who drove me to extreme anger. I would teach something this minute and ask them the same thing the next, and they would be mute. I would be like, “Ahn ahn, why is this one giving me problem like this na? Something I just explained now now?” In my mind, I’d be like, “Make I tear this girl slap?”

FRIDAY

I had to deal with noisemakers again today, and I’m happy how much things have changed. In those days, any student who misbehaved or made noise in class would receive major punishment. By the time you receive five or six lashes, it’d be like they poured you water to make you calm for the rest of the day.

Many schools no longer allow corporal punishment. And that’s a good thing, I won’t lie. I used to flog students because it was the easiest punishment, and it was just to assert authority. But I’ve found sometimes, students are restless and just want you to divert a little from the subject, to tell a story or banter and make learning a little more engaging. As a teacher, I realised that in any atmosphere you enter, it’s your person that sticks. A joyful person will encourage a joyful atmosphere while a sad one will reflect sadly on the students.

Maturity has come in, and I have a different outlook on life, from the need to flog all the time. Sometimes, I just issue threats. Another tactic is when I get employed at a school, I’ll be very stern at first, then later, I calm down.

The downside of no more flogging is teachers have to talk too much these days. Sometimes, I wish I could still flog. Some children are so stubborn that out of the 40 minutes period for a class, I can find myself using 15 minutes to manage the class and calm students down. Something that cane would’ve solved, I now have to talk and talk. But the government says teachers shouldn’t flog again, so no wahala.

SATURDAY

I work so hard because of inflation. I find myself spending much more money to enjoy the same meals I’ve enjoyed for so long. But I’m not getting younger, and I can’t keep working every day of the week for the rest of my life.

I would like to do my master’s, so I no longer have to work so much just to get by. The more you learn, the more you earn. And since secondary schools don’t pay much, I want to level up.

I’ve told my students my days with them are numbered. I know they’ll miss me, but I hope their next maths teacher will treat them with the same level of care.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s #AWeekInTheLife is Elastiick Abah, a fitness coach. He tells us about his training regime, rigid personal diet and the fitness myths that make him scratch his head the most.

MONDAY

My week technically starts on Sunday — if I don’t have anywhere to be on Sunday afternoon, I design meal plans and workout programs for my clients. So when I wake up on Monday, all I do is go out and kill it.

The gym opens by 6 a.m., so I wake up at 5 and head out to the Lekki branch of the popular fitness chain where I work, thirty minutes later. From 6 – 7 a.m., I train five people, but my peak period is between 7 – 8 a.m. when the most people troop in. Ideally, I would be done with my morning shift by 12 p.m., but you know people who only work with African time na? So sometimes, I have to stick around until 1 p.m. Then, I head to the Sangotedo branch.

I’m supposed to work one shift per day, but in February 2022, I started working two shifts for two reasons. I’m trying to fund a personal project, and I need the extra money. The second reason is that I’ve worked five years at the Sangotedo branch and gotten bored and demotivated by being in the same space every day. So I decided I needed a change of scenery and moved to Lekki Phase 1.

I created a transitionary period for myself which will end in July [2022]. During this time, I would work at two gym locations — Lekki and Sangotedo — and ease out of the Sangotedo area. I’m worried about leaving five years of building and nurturing a community of around 100 clients behind, but change is important.

Before May 2022, after my morning session, I would fly a bike to Sangotedo to save time. But since Lagos banned okadas, any day wey traffic dey, I enter the traffic like that. I find a corner of the gym to sleep until 4 p.m. when my evening shift starts. I have different sets of clients every hour until 9 p.m., then I head back to Lekki. Depending on the traffic, I can get back home anytime from 9:45.

Today, there was heavy traffic because it rained, so I got home at 11:30.

TUESDAY

On Tuesdays at 7 a.m., I have a general class called “Tabata”, a high-intensity interval training (HIIT) routine in which participants get active for 20 seconds and rest for ten. They repeat the cycle for five to eight rounds and the class lasts between 45 minutes and one hour. After that, I step out for lunch.

I used to eat six times a day. I’m an ectomorph — someone with a very high metabolism rate — and I have a physically active job. So I need lots of calories; I need to eat big to get big.

At 6:20 a.m., I’d take fruits: two apples and a handful of berries and grapes. By 9 a.m., I’d have oatmeal, a banana and an egg, with peanut butter and milk. At noon, I could have rice with vegetables and chicken or beef. I’d have pasta or swallow — either wheat or pounded yam and soup — at 3 p.m. At 6 p.m., I’d eat Irish potatoes with vegetables. When I got home at 10 or 11 p.m., or anytime Lagos traffic let me reach my house, I’d have rice, potatoes or spaghetti. Sometimes, it could be yoghurt or whatever else was left in my fridge.

And let’s not forget supplements. I would take several types — the pre-workout, inter-workout and post-workout supplements. They contain whey protein, creatine, glutamine, mass gainer, omega 369, etc., and cost about ₦150k every three months.

But all that changed because I’ve gotten a lot leaner since I took on two shifts. I also haven’t been able to work out since February because I’m stressed out from training so many people in a day and can’t afford to push my body further. If I try it, it’ll shut down. I’ve lost a lot of muscle mass and am now a shadow of my former self. I can’t wait to fully transition to the Lekki branch and get done with the personal project I’ve been raising funds for, so I can get back to working only evening shifts like a normal person, and resume working out.

The supplements have also doubled in price. It now costs me the same ₦150k to buy just half of what I used to take two years ago. In 2022, I would buy whey protein for ₦10 – 15k, but the same container now costs anywhere from ₦38k. A tub of mass gainer went from ₦22k to ₦48k, and creatine, from ₦12k to ₦20k. These are the only ones I still use. I’ve stopped buying the rest.

When I got home at 10:30 p.m. today, I prepared for Wednesday — boiled my eggs ahead of breakfast, packed my gym bag — and went to bed around 1 a.m.

WEDNESDAY

The only thing different about Wednesdays is that I have a circuit training class at the Sangotedo branch in the evening. For circuit training, I create obstacles and a series of workout routines for my clients to complete in a stipulated amount of time.

Something happened today at the Sangotedo branch that made me tear laugh. The Sangotedo gym is located in the same building (upstairs) as a pizzeria (downstairs). One of my clients worked out for one hour and left the gym. But just minutes later, I looked out the window and saw this woman sneaking out of the pizzeria with a chairman-size pizza box. I made a video to show her the next time she came to the gym.

She reminded me of another client — a lady who kept complaining bitterly that she wasn’t losing weight. Two weeks ago, this woman finished working out at 9 p.m., the last session of the day, only for me to come downstairs and spot her standing at a shawarma spot.

I often tell clients that I can only be in charge of what they do in the gym. I can’t follow them around to monitor what and how they eat. It’s behaviour like this that’ll annoys — and hurt — any fitness coach. When clients aren’t making progress because of their habits, it feels like we’re not doing our jobs well. We’re not magicians.

THURSDAY

Mehn, the kind of things I see at the gym! Gym bros make me laugh. If it’s not the ones walking around shirtless to show off, it’s those who think lifting weights that are too heavy for them will impress women. These “alpha males” mark territory and want everyone to know, “Na we dey run this town.”

The commonest thing I hear people say about personal trainers is that we’re ashawos who steal people’s women. Nothing could be further from the truth. For me, I just have a lot more female clients than men, and so naturally, I’ll relate with more women. But being a fitness coach is a proper career, and personal training has rules and ethics.

All I’m focused on is my clients’ progress. The best thing that happens to me on this job is when a client goes from a skinny somebody who can barely lift the bar, to being buffed up and lifting 50kg, five months down the line. When I see a client who comes in obese, loses weight and starts moving about more confidently, it fills my heart with joy.

I often receive gifts from such overjoyed clients. Like today, someone dashed me Airpods Pro. The kind of sweet sleep I’ll sleep this night will be legendary.

FRIDAY

I spent a better part of today trying to get two new clients to unlearn all the marketing myths. These fat women had been taking things like weight-loss teas, and even when they lost weight, they’d quickly gain back even more weight.

And that’s because they don’t work. These teas and pills and waist trainers are just products of marketing. They don’t do shit. You’ll drink a weight loss concoction, and it’ll make you purge. You’ll lose water weight and think you’re losing actual weight? No. Too many people are looking for shortcuts and don’t want to do the actual work.

There’s a science to losing weight — you simply have to adopt an active lifestyle and eat at a calorie deficit.

For the next few months, I’m going to work with them to reset their mindset and adopt the best practices. If they can follow through and be consistent, I can’t wait to see their progress one year from now.

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: “People Think I’m a Sex Worker” — A Week in the Life of a Massage Therapist

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s #AWeekInTheLife is Lola Salehu, a Nigerian product designer based in Dubai. She tells us about switching from coding to design, the intentional way she sees the world and the most important thing on her bucket list — to change her passport.

MONDAY

I live in the UAE and work for a company in the United Kingdom (UK), so I’m three hours ahead. I can decide to start working at 9 a.m. my time, or noon (9 a.m. UK time). Today, I’m choosing 12 p.m.

But before then, I go to the gym from 7 a.m. to 9, return home and freshen up. I recently started taking hair and skin care seriously, so I spend an hour on those before settling down to a light breakfast of oatmeal.

When I resume work, it’s a lineup of meetings until the end of the day, aligning with other team members and business stakeholders until 3 p.m. Then, meetings with my team members for the next two hours. After that, I could do some hands-on design, run feedback loops for my team or analyse data to get insights that’ll help us decide what to build next.

When I close from work around 7 p.m., I shift to my personal projects. I’m currently working on a course for designers, and volunteering at upcoming tech communities. Then I take a walk and grab dinner, which could be a burger or jollof rice. If I’m feeling fancy, I buy shawarma. When I get home, I eat, and around 10 p.m., I go to bed.

TUESDAY

I lead a team of two product designers, one brand designer and one web designer. While Mondays and Wednesdays are heavy-meeting days, I do more hands-on work on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

As a product designer, my Tuesday can involve collaborating with other teams — marketing, sales, finance, engineering and product teams, etc. I make digital products that work and people can use — phones, laptops, watches or even VR headsets. The products I design must solve problems for both individuals and businesses.

Every company has business goals, and I’m working to achieve a goal every quarter. My job as a product designer is to make people care about how the business intends to solve the problem. It involves elements of storytelling, innovating and prototyping solutions that I think will solve whatever problem the company is looking to solve for its customers.

To do this, I talk with the customers a lot. My job involves a lot of collecting and interpreting data to make sure we’re prioritising what they really want and deciding on what’s nice to have while considering the business objectives. At the end of the day, I need to make sure my team has met those goals.

WEDNESDAY

Today, I worked on testing out a user flow with customers. In product design, a user flow is the path a user takes to complete a task on a website or app. I recorded the process from start to finish and couldn’t help but notice how flexible this job is compared to my previous one.

These days, I’m more flexible with the kind of data I collect and work with. I can watch recorded sessions to observe the behaviours of our customers and make informed product decisions on the fly. Unlike when I was in fintech and couldn’t record certain things. For example, you can’t record sessions on a fintech app in case a user might be typing in their card details.

I loved being at the centre of payments processing in Africa, but fintech in the West is very different from how it works in Africa. Yes, there are regulations, but the government won’t just wake up one day with a policy that would reset your business, for instance.

THURSDAY

I love teaching when I’m not working. That’s why I’m putting together a course for designers. In my spare time, I also have speaking engagements in tech and youth events where I pick a topic and teach people about it. I’m a designer, so naturally, I can’t shut up about design, which is funny because I didn’t always want to be a product designer.

I was a software engineer for two years, and there was this designer at the company I worked. While I’d be scratching my brain over coding a feature, this guy would be designing the next one. I thought it was easy, and I was like, “Omo, I don’t want to be doing 2+2 = X logic coding for the rest of my life.”

Only for me to switch to product design and see pepper. But I realised engineering and product design are pretty much solving the same problem in different ways. Nothing is easier than the other. While coding is logical, design is analytical and creative. I liked this way of solving problems, so I stuck with it.

After work at 6 p.m. today, I went out for a walk and took pictures of the cityscape. When I got back home, I journaled for a bit before sleeping. I love documenting memories of even the most random things and writing or creating photo journals to relive them.

FRIDAY

On Fridays, the TGIF energy starts early. I mean, it’s the weekend!

I see the world in colours and pathways and processes. That’s why I love living in Dubai. This city started as a desert; all they had was sand. But they designed this sprawling city with so much thought and intention, and were successful at it. I apply this mentality to everything I’m doing, and I know everything will come out fine.

But another thing that drives me is my desire to escape the limitations of having a Nigerian passport. While we have a rich history, culture and creativity, there’s not much Nigeria has done for me — instead, it often takes from me.

I want to change my experience and see what the world offers. I don’t want to stay three hours extra at an airport because I’m Nigerian. I don’t want to meet people who’re wary of me because I’m Nigerian. So in five years, I see myself in a new life with a new passport and glorious new adventures.

If you liked this story, you might like this too: “I’m a Firefighter at My Job” — A Week in the Life of a Fintech Marketer

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of this week’s “A Week in the Life” sells gadgets at Computer Village. He tells us about the chaos of the Village and how he manages to stay faithful in a market infamous for dishonesty.

SUNDAY

I sell phones, laptops and accessories in the Lagos Computer Village. My week starts on Sunday night because business almost never stops — na them dey rush us.

From 6 p.m. until around midnight, I respond to messages from people making inquiries. When I receive payment for an order, I verify it and schedule delivery for Monday morning or whenever they need it. Doing so on Sunday nights makes my already busy Mondays more bearable.

MONDAY

I wake up by 5 a.m. every Monday morning to get ready for the week. By 6 a.m, I leave Ogba and head out to my shop in Computer Village, Ikeja. Depending on the traffic situation, I can get to my shop by 7:30 or around 8 a.m. Resumption time is 9 a.m. but I like to arrive early so I can get a head start. Also, the orders from the previous night need to be dispatched as early as possible. If I waited until 9 a.m. to resume, stress would kill me.

I get most of my orders from social media and Whatsapp, from first-time customers and a network I’ve built over the years.

By 12 p.m., I take a two-hour break to either nap, stroll around the Village or go see my girlfriend who lives close by. I head back to the shop at 2 p.m. and keep selling until 6 or 7 p.m. when I close and head home. Sometimes, people keep coming after 6,especially those who have office jobs, and I have to attend to them.

At 7 p.m., I turn off my data, put my phone on silent and place it in my backpack because the way home is dangerous at night. I also put any cash I have into the bag and hold it as if my life depended on it — I’ve been a victim of pick-pocketing before.

Due to Monday’s rush-hour traffic, it takes two or three hours to get home. I have dinner, respond to more inquiries and take more orders until sleep calls.

TUESDAY

Computer Village is wild gan! If you lose guard, you go collect. But even with all the warnings, some people are either too naive or don’t hear word. I saved someone from being duped today.

If you’ve ever been to Computer Village, you know that it’s very easy to get scammed. Everyone knows about buying a phone only to find out that there’s fufu inside, right? That’s old news. The reigning one these days is taking the panel of an older model of a phone and wrapping it on a new model to dupe unsuspecting customers. They can cover the panel of an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 casing.

A woman came to my shop and asked to buy a London-used iPhone 13. The market price of such a phone is ₦430k. She complained that it was too much and went elsewhere. Soon after, she called me and started cussing me out. She called me a thief just because she felt my price was too high. After all, she found someone to sell it to her for almost half my fee.

After she’d finished ranting, I told her it was unnecessary. She could have either told me she wasn’t buying or given me the “I’ll get back to you” line and ghosted. There was no need for her to insult me. She hung up and forwarded a message to me on WhatsApp. Someone was willing to sell it to her at ₦250k.

I did a double-take and asked her if that vendor was in Computer Village. I told her it was impossible for someone to sell an iPhone 13 for so cheap, even if it had faults. She kept arguing, and then, she sent me a photo of the phone. I took one look and knew it was a scam. But she refused to believe me. According to her, I just wanted to chop her money.

I’d have collected my “L” and kept it moving o, but I decided to get her to ask the vendor about the phone. I told her to tell them a fellow vendor was asking. The vendor admitted that it was an iPhone XR in an iPhone 13 case.

She started wondering why they didn’t tell her from the beginning. In Computer Village? Where almost everybody is hustling by hook or crook? Plis dear!

I don’t take disrespect lightly, so after that conversation, I deleted her number along with the Whatsapp conversation. I was angry.

WEDNESDAY

In Computer Village, every day, new drama. Everybody thinks they’re smart — not just traders; even customers do dishonest shit. But me I sha know how to give close marking.

Today at the shop, these three guys came to buy laptops and behaved strangely. I know there are customers who can’t make up their minds, but these ones rubbed me off the wrong way.

I closed the door and stood by it, making sure all three guys were inside. As they kept asking for laptops, dropping them and asking for more, me I knew it was “format”. I promptly texted my shop assistant to watch them closely and ensure she returned every laptop to the show glass as soon as they dropped it so that we won’t hear stories that touch. The guys got frustrated and left eventually. Awon oloshi.

Editor’s pick: The Zikoko Guide to Surviving Computer Village

THURSDAY

The first rule of Computer Village is to never follow anybody you don’t know. Those boys and men who prowl the streets, who don’t have shops, avoid them. The best thing is to have a trusted plug or get a referral. Even if you don’t know where you’re going, you must never show it. Find a proper shop and do your business; never trust a stranger.

People fall victim every day. Like today, I went to get a spare part from a colleague and found somebody sitting in his doorway. After some time, people at the shop noticed he wasn’t doing anything, so we asked him to leave if he didn’t have any business there.

The guy (let’s call him Bayo) told us he was waiting for someone. Who? He mentioned someone nobody had heard about. We suspected foul play and asked what happened. This man told us he needed to change his screen, so when he got to the Village, someone approached him and said he could fix it. But first, Bayo had to give him ₦15k to buy a new screen as he was just an engineer. When he was done, Bayo would complete the payment for workmanship.

The man brought Bayo to the shop and told him to wait, but hours later, neither screen nor “engineer” was anywhere to be found. We just told Bayo, “Your phone don go. Sha dey go house.”

We taunted him sha, because that’s how we do. How you go follow person wey you no know like zombie? At least, whenever he hears gist about Computer Village, he too will have a story to tell.

FRIDAY

In Computer Village, everybody minds their business. If you see someone getting duped, mind your business. Most times, it’s their greed that’s getting the better of them. Unless you want to put yourself in trouble, just keep it moving.

Sometimes, a deal goes bad and the customer returns. Maybe they were sold something that didn’t last as long as expected or developed a fault. They’re not coming back peacefully; they’re coming back with “Indaboski”. Unless I know the seller and can vouch for them, in which case I’ll step in and try to resolve the conflict, but if I don’t know them? As I see the angry customer starting go cause a scene, I’ll just do “eyes right”.

The biggest lesson I’ve learnt is to be a straightforward person. When I started this business in 2013, I was lucky to be handheld by the kindest vendor, and his values have stayed with me.

So even though Computer Village is infamous for deception, I choose to keep my customers happy because nothing matters to me more than peace of mind. I treat everyone as if they’re my only customer, and it has worked for me so far. I get a significant amount of referrals weekly.

Thankfully, my customers treat me the same way.

If you enjoyed this “A Week in the Life”, check out: A Week in the Life of a Computer Technician Selling Ewa Agoyin on the Side

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

When this ghostwriter started writing in 2014, her rate was ₦1 per word. 8 years later, she’s making 7 figures per project. Maybe one day she’ll release a book with her name but right now, she doesn’t care — as long as the pay is good. This is #AWeekInTheLife of Ebimoboere Ibinabo Dan-Asisah.

MONDAY

I work from home and I’m my own boss, so my day can start anytime, and waking up for me is vibes and inshallah. But when I’m feeling responsible, I wake up around 10 a.m. It takes an hour for my brain to boot completely, and then, I find something random to read for the next hour — could be an article or story online.

By around 11-ish, I make coffee, shower, dress up, open my laptop and get to writing. For the next four hours, I’ll grind out about 7,000 words. I average about 1,000 words every thirty-or-so minutes, a writing muscle I’ve built over the past ten years. It helps when I’m on a deadline; I write even faster. But there are some jobs that are so complex I simply cannot rush because doing so would be trying to kill myself.

By 5 p.m., I take a two-hour break to cook or read something casual. Around 7, I’m back to work, but this time, I make corrections and review what I’ve written — basically become my own editor. By 9 p.m., I take another break to watch a movie or hang out with my partner, who’s also my roommate.

Depending on how much work I have to do, after this break, I could either prepare for bed or go back to writing till 4 a.m.

TUESDAY

I ghostwrite anything from articles to research papers to full-length books. My writing process is simple. Usually, a client approaches me with a brief. This brief contains the project requirements and guidelines or plotlines to follow. Once we agree on terms and conditions, I get to work. If it’s a biography, I conduct interviews. Then, I mimic what I think would be the client’s writing style. Once I finish writing, and the client is satisfied, they buy the work from me. What that means is I have no ownership of the work. I have no copyright, no royalties, no cuts from sales or merchandising or movie rights.

I have nothing to do with the work once I’m done writing. I’ve written a few things that became big, but I can’t take credit. It doesn’t bother me, maybe because when I started writing, my main motivation was money. I didn’t go into it because I wanted my name on the New York Times Best Seller list. I didn’t have those dreams when I first started. All I wanted was to get paid. It’s only now that it’s beginning to occur to me that I may need to put my name on something and let people know how good I am, because I’m good.

But even then, it’s still just a back-burner desire. I’m working on a novel, but I’ll complete it in my own time. There’s no rush. Right now, I’m good with earning six figures consistently.

WEDNESDAY

When I woke up today, it hit me that I’ve been ghostwriting for so long, I now feel like a robot. But I love it because it’s given me an opportunity to be whoever I want to be, do whatever I want to, write and earn a living from it.

Ten years ago (in 2014), if you’d told me that I’d have a career as a ghostwriter, I wouldn’t even have known what that meant.

I stumbled into ghostwriting because I was poor and needed money. I wasn’t just in the trenches — If there was a rung below the trenches, that’s where I was. During the holidays before I started 300 level, I went home and there was no money. I had to do some introspection to figure out how to earn and help with the upkeep at home. I didn’t have any fantastic artistic or technical skills. The only thing I could do was write.

I didn’t even consider myself a writer because the only time I’d ever done any writing was in secondary school — English essays in classwork and exams. But at that point, my only options were writing or sex work. I decided to try writing first.

I reached out to friends and told them I was looking for writing jobs. Luckily, someone introduced me to a guy who was paying ₦1 per word; he asked me to send samples of my work. I didn’t have any samples, so I quickly wrote an article of 750 words and sent it over. He gave me an assignment to write 3,000 words in two days and paid me ₦3k for it — the first money I ever made. I was so excited.

THURSDAY

Today, after coffee, I worked on my current project, a sci-fi novella in a dystopian future. Taking a break, I let my mind wander.

Being a ghostwriter is interesting because I get to write on a diverse range of topics. There’s literally no genre I’ve not written about, from the most niche topics to the most technical and even batshit crazy stuff.

Like the time I started, in those dark days when I was earning ₦1 per word, there was this guy who had a fetish for eating boiled eggs and farting. I got him through a middle man. When I looked at the brief: a 3,000-word erotica about swallowing boiled eggs whole and farting. I was mortified, but I needed to eat. So I accepted it.

During that period, I wrote the most unhinged and twisted stories. There was a time when PornHub was the default page in my phone’s browser. Think of anything. There’s porn for it. I had to do tons of research because these clients needed the most specific descriptions. There’s even a subgenre of porn called vore, where people get sexually aroused from seeing people get swallowed or imagining being swallowed whole. I remember writing one about Godzilla flinging people into its mouth. I’ve come across people who get off from the wildest things.

But I’m thankful I no longer have to write things like that. I started writing around 2014 and wrote at ₦1 for about six years, until I graduated from university, fell out with parents, got heartbroken by my boyfriend at the time. So I took on a writing job. My boss was toxic and kept devaluing my work. She’d broke-shame me because she knew I was earning peanuts from ghostwriting, which was ironic because she only paid me ₦50k a month.

In my personal life, shit got real for me. I had a law degree, but I wasn’t ready to go to law school only to come back and work for ₦25k while running errands for whatever law firm.

In 2019, I got duped. I got a gig to write a dark erotic romance novel, which is a genre of fucked-up love stories. I was excited for the project because it’s a genre I really liked, and also the most money I would’ve made at the time. The 50,000-word project would earn me ₦150k at ₦3 per word. The client paid me ₦50k up front and was supposed to complete the payment when I was done.

Turbocharged, I finished the book in record time. But in excitement, I made a huge mistake — I sent the entire manuscript before receiving payment. He ghosted me. It broke my heart. I initially wanted to publish it, but I didn’t even know the first thing about publishing.

In 2020, I was depressed and my writing wasn’t giving. When I tried to kill myself, I knew I had to leave my parent’s house in Port Harcourt. I moved to Lagos and squatted with a male friend for some time. Not a great time because his girlfriend wasn’t okay with the arrangement. I was stranded, and it was then I realised I could no longer write at ₦1 for a word.

When I got fired from the writing job I hated, I increased my rates to ₦5 per word. Clients resisted. Many of them ran away, but two clients liked my work too much to let me go. After a couple of months, I raised my rates yet again to ₦10 per word and got even less patronage. But I didn’t budge.

In 2021, I realised I was shortchanging myself because I’m too fucking good to be counting words. So I decided to start charging per project. While I endured the wilderness for a while, eventually, an acquaintance recommended me to a client who agreed to pay me what I asked for — six figures! He told me his projects earned him as much as ₦10m per job.

Everything changed for me. In the past year, the least money I’ve earned from a project is ₦780k. And I don’t intend to ever go lower. If it’s not paying me six zeroes, I don’t want. One of the projects I’m currently working on will earn me ₦10m when completed.

But it isn’t all roses. I’m a freelancer, so jobs don’t come consistently. Sometimes, it rains; sometimes, it’s a drought.

FRIDAY

It’s been a hectic week. Today, I’m just going to unwind. I’ll resist the temptation to open my laptop. I may work tomorrow, but today, I’ll go to Landmark Beach. On my way back, I’ll stop by my favourite spot on the Island to drink craft beer.

When I come back home, I’ll cook seafood pasta and drink merlot. Problem no dey finish. Tomorrow, we go again.

ALSO READ: A Week in the Life of a Bookstagrammer Hoping to Go Global

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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In 2019, Christian Obi, popular as the “Igbo Wolf”, made his first “official” Instagram skit.

Before then, he just made videos for fun, sharing them with his “two followers on Instagram”. But he soon got tired of making skits because his old LG mobile was barely holding on for life.

Two years later, in August 2021, he bought an iPhone and decided to start making video skits again. But he couldn’t have imagined how ready the world was for his content. He went viral just two days after he bought the phone.

Inspired by a TikTok trend of Nollywood queen mothers, he recorded a video of his face with a mermaid underwater filter, reeling out threats to swimmers. The video was an instant hit.

The natural thing to do would’ve been to ride on this popularity and milk the content style as much as possible, but Igbo Wolf didn’t do that. He wasn’t confident having not done comedy for a while. So he took a step back.

“With TikTok,” he tells me. “You don’t need to create original content.” Since Tiktokers can remix other creators’ content or just hop on trending sounds, he decided to hang around in that space for a while.

But one afternoon in early 2021, he remembered a former classmate in secondary school. The student, Kunle Ogunfowokan, had a teacher who always mispronounced his name with a deep Igbo intonation. Christian had an idea. He swiped to his Camera app and recorded a skit which would quickly become another internet sensation.

The idea was simple: take on an Igbo lecturer persona, who he named Professor Uwa (pronounced “Pro-fess-uu-wa”) and do a roll call of Yoruba student names which had lewd or negative meanings in Igbo. But a mistake happened while shooting that would launch him into pop-culture relevance.

“When making videos, I don’t like cutting and joining,” Igbo Wolf says. “So I have to do everything right in one take.” So while filming, after his Professor Uwa character listed out the Yoruba names, he forgot his lines at the end. But he needed a conclusion, so he said, “Dazz ya name?” on the spot and ended the video.

“It made me cringe,” Igbo Wolf tells me, “And I wanted to remove it.” But he eventually decided to let it stay anyway. “Instinct,” He recalls. “I just said, ‘let me leave it there.’”

When he posted the video on Twitter at 6:24 p.m. on September 21st, 2021, he didn’t expect his line to become an internet meme. “The next morning, I started seeing, ‘Dazz ya name’ everywhere!”

Igbo lecturers in Yoruba schools 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/3W35nWSoDA
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) September 21, 2021

It took him some time to remember that he’d even used the line, as he had to rewatch the video himself to see and hear it. To this day, he still doesn’t understand why people like the phrase, but as long as it gets the people going, he’s happy with it.

However, Igbo Wolf is not one to rest on his laurels. While he initially rode on its popularity, releasing viral video after video, he decided to retire the Professor Uwa character. His reason? He sees himself as an actor and wants to continue evolving.

Editor’s pick: QUIZ: What Career Should You Actually Have?

And his broad portfolio of comic personas is a testament to his creative ability. Several more characters have hit the limelight. From the frowning Work Chris who’s ironically always happy to go to work, to the toxic, uber-religious RonkeHR; his characters touch across relatable themes in Nigeria’s youth culture.

When asked how he consistently hits the Nigerian youth cultural nerve, he admits that his characters are a reflection of his state of mind at the time he creates them. When people see comic characters living out their reality, they fuck with them. Take the “happy” Chris meme, for example.

Excited to go give my all at work this week pic.twitter.com/SoC55NVyX8
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) March 21, 2022

In December 2021, Igbo Wolf’s year-end holiday was restful. For the first time in a long while, he took a break from his product manager day job, hung out with friends, cooked, ate and played games. But when the time came to resume work on January 4th, 2022, he struggled to find the energy to get out of bed. When he finally got to the gate of his workplace, he turned and went into the restaurant opposite it to gather himself.

While there, he tweeted a selfie of him grimacing and captioned it “Work is such a fun adult activity especially after spending 2 weeks consistently getting drunk and eating”. He returned to his office at around 11 a.m.

Work is such a fun adult activity especially after spending 2 weeks consistently getting drunk and eating pic.twitter.com/yk7Rtp6Hto
— Wolfie 🐺 (@TheIgboWolf) January 5, 2022

He continued taking selfies, captioning them in a similar way, until the end of January. “It wasn’t just content for me,” he says. “I was miserable, and [making those tweets] was my own way of dealing with stuff.”

So when his first “Happy to be at work” tweet blew up in February, he felt dejected.

“It wasn’t just Nigerians. There were other Africans and white people,” he says. And when people started hailing his comedic prowess with compliments like, “Nigerian people understood the assignment”, Igbo Wolf couldn’t deal. “It wasn’t even an assignment, to begin with. It was just my way of dealing with my state of mind, but now, I was content to these people? I felt like they had taken something away from me.”

That day, he resolved not to post again. But the following morning, he experienced the same sadness that plagued him the day before, so he took another selfie and tweeted it, again with an ironic caption. More people could relate to his struggles and respond with selfies of their own tired, stressed faces with “happy to be at work” captions. Igbo Wolf had to get used to being a pop-culture trendsetter.

The turning point, he tells me, was when he attended an event and some guests were excited to meet him. The following Monday, he opened his Twitter DMs to see messages from some of the guests, telling him they were waiting for him to make his usual Monday morning tweet.

Other characters in his portfolio are just as relatable. Work Chris is the Nigerian youth who has to deal with toxic workplaces, Mama Elo is Elon Musk’s mother reimagined as Nigerian and Professor Uwa is most Igbo lecturers who’ve found themselves teaching in a Yoruba town.

An interesting aspect of Igbo Wolf’s skit-making is that he keeps the use of slapstick to the minimum and never employs exaggerated voiceovers or sound effects. “I hate them”, he says. “Because I see myself as an actor.” He does his best to get into character and lets his acting and mannerisms carry the humour. Also, he shoots his skits indoors when no one else is around, as he considers himself a shy, indoorsy person — a testament to his artist name which is a combination of his spirit animal (lone wolf) and his ethnicity (Igbo).

But Igbo Wolf is not afraid to deviate from his creative formula. He’s constantly writing stories; the pressure to keep up with his popularity keeps him grounded. To hack productivity, he always has at least six skits banked.

When he’s not producing viral content, he’s working as a product manager in Lagos, a job that has inspired some of his most iconic videos. I asked him if going to work still causes him pain. His response? Not really. But in future, he hopes to get a remote work arrangement, so he has more time to create entertaining content and achieve a perfect balance between his day job and his content creator life.

Enjoyed this story? Why don’t you read this next: Nigerian Creatives Who Got Big Breaks on Twitter.
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

On today’s #AWeekInTheLife, we feature Samiat Salami, who designs textile prints which she uses to make ready-to-wear clothes and home decor. She walks us through her design process, the pains of running a global business in Nigeria and how difficult it is to find plus-size models for her robes.

MONDAY

I’m not an early riser because I wake up multiple times during the night, so I usually get out of bed at 9 a.m. Because I have asthma and tend to wake up with a sore throat thanks to the air conditioner (AC), the first thing I do is have a cup of tea to help me clear my sinuses.

I try not to open my phone or computer first thing in the morning because if I do, anxiety will kick in, and I’ll get caught up in the slog of it all for the rest of the day. So while enjoying my beverage, I like to live in the moment for a bit; I can read a chapter of fiction on my toilet seat or mosey around the house.

By 10 a.m., I finally switch my phone on. And the minute I do that, it’s an avalanche that never ends, back-to-back calls or emails or whatever else I need to catch up on.

As a textile designer, I work with many artisans, and it’s a lot of stress! I get so many calls from people going, “We’ve run out of blah blah blah”, “Did you really want it this way?” and “Because we did it this way the last time and you didn’t like it, we thought we have to ask you specifically before…” Yeah, there’s just a whole bunch of back-and-forths.

I also work with manufacturers who sew my designs into actual products. So I’ll need to give and receive feedback from them as well. Then, I have to work with retailers I sell my stuff to in the US, and they would usually have follow-up questions. I also do a healthy amount of customer service following up with direct online orders and on social media.

Around 1 p.m., my team members come to my house where the living room doubles as my studio, where all the following-up comes to a head. All the “Do we like this print?” “Do we not?” “Will this print be better for robes or tableware?” “Do we need to talk about different marketing ideas?” “Do we need to shoot a campaign?” “Are we planning for this?” questions get answered from 1 – 6 or 7 p.m. We just go ham and it’s pretty intense. The day tends to be very fast-paced, but we make sure to take short breaks for lunch and to catch our breaths.

By 6 p.m., I’m hammered and restless. So when everybody leaves, all I want to do is go for a walk around my estate. I have a restless body that’s always trying to keep up with my mind and walking helps me catch up. When I get back, I just collapse into bed.

Samiat Salami

TUESDAY

My process of designing textiles begins with prints and patterns. I’m inspired a lot by the flora and fauna of Nigeria, and I do a lot of research for each collection, about the origin of a plant, how it falls, what it’s like, the colours… I often take long walks in nature, taking loads of pictures of flowers and other beautiful things I see. I curate all these photos into a mood board. Then I work with my illustrator to refine them.

For example, for the hibiscus prints I’ve been working on for months, it was just me taking loads of different species of hibiscuses I’ve seen in nature. I took pictures in Nigeria, and in California and Florida. After photographing, I’ll study the patterns, like how they go from red to yellow, for example.

Next, I work with my illustrator to create digital designs inspired by my mood board. Then we’ll send them to a really lovely man in Osogbo with whom I like to work, and fabrics for him to hand-draw the patterns on — he has to translate our illustrations into something that’s a lot more illustrative by hand. When he’s done creating the sample prints, we’ll go through several iterations until we get it right.

WEDNESDAY

I only meet my team about three times a week, so when I’m not having anyone come around my apartment, like today, I’m running around Lagos.

After catching up on emails and correspondence at around 12 p.m., I head out to Surulere or Lekki where my manufacturers operate, to approve things and discuss samples and finer details of new products.

For example, if I’m doing a fit test — putting a garment on a fit model — I’ll have to make different iterations to get it right, and that can take a whole day because it involves a lot of back-and-forths. It’s like: “cut it”, “put it on”, “twist it this way”, “put it back on”, and so on…

I use myself a lot, which is interesting because I’m not the typical fit model. I have very small body parts, and I’m only five-two. When people think of models, they’re typically tall and slender and have no curves. But that doesn’t translate into the body of many Nigerian women. This is why so many people struggle with traditional brands.

For me, I’m smallish, and I have thighs and boobs, and all sorts of things that aren’t straight, so I need to know how the clothes fit me so I can translate how it would fit other body types. This is why I’m size-inclusive. One of the reasons I started my brand is that I got frustrated struggling to find clothes that fit me.

So now, I make clothes for people of different sizes: people who are larger, people who are thinner, people who are top-heavy or bottom-heavy, etc. I want everybody to feel comfortable and safe and happy in my clothes. I don’t want anyone to have to feel like they’re conforming to any standard of beauty I’m setting. This is not about me. It’s about you feeling fucking great in whatever I make for you.

But it’s been really difficult for me to find models above a certain size, and I don’t think it’s because we don’t have women like that. Such women shy away from that industry because they’re often told that they’re not the ideal of beauty. There are cultures that find only thin people attractive, but that’s not Nigerian. I’m currently on the lookout for bigger models.

THURSDAY

One of the most frustrating parts of my work is that the manufacturing industry in Nigeria doesn’t have a solid structure yet. Countries like India, Indonesia, Morocco and Mexico, all have long histories of artisanship that have been vetted and worked with other countries. There are whole brands, American and British, that go to places like India to mass-manufacture. These countries already have legacy systems in place for everything. We don’t have that yet in Nigeria; we don’t have working production systems, so it’s difficult to get things done.

So I find myself having to build everything from the ground. It’s gruelling, but it’s me that chose this life.

Because of this, problems come up all the time in manufacturing. For instance, I only work with 100% Nigerian cotton, like Funtua. Funtua is not the kind of thing I can just go to the market in Lagos and buy because I manufacture in such large quantities, so I buy thousands of yards at a time. I get it from Kano. And now, there are problems like insecurity and terrorism plaguing that area, so these materials are becoming increasingly difficult to get.

My suppliers can just increase their prices in a blink of an eye because of all the inflation and uncertainty. Imagine how much this affects my estimates and budgets. Things like this affect production and delivery to customers. I’m not really good with sloppy work, and my perfectionist self has to deal with all these variables. It’s so tiring.

FRIDAY

Today, I received satisfactory feedback from a client. It’s the best thing in the world for me. I love that twinkle in their eyes when they try something on and go, “I look fabulous”. Especially the robes, as they tend to have a kind of decadent feel so every time someone puts them on, I can see their demeanour change. They take on this kind of rich aunty or uncle vibes, and I’m just like, “I’m here for it!”

Seeing people love something I made, after all the labour, brings me unspeakable joy. It’s especially fulfilling because my designs don’t always translate properly to print. So when we finally get it right and people fuck with it, that “oh, I made a beautiful thing” feeling washes over me.

SATURDAY

I went to Ibadan with my team today. I’ve always had this fascination with the city. As a child, one of my many ambitions was to study Yoruba and teach at the University of Ibadan (UI). Ibadan is one of those cities where the myth of it is so rich and so closely tied to what it means to be Yoruba. It has hills and red sand, a rustic feel and a certain kind of magic you can’t find in Lagos. Ife is another such city.

The last time I visited Ibadan, I knew I wanted to shoot a campaign there. So when we got into Ibadan today by train, we went straight to Amala Skye in Bodija to get our amala fix. Mehn, I ate the best ogunfe I’ve ever had. Then, we lodged at the International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA) at Moniya.

I’m excited about this campaign because I’m working with an all-women team. I love when I get to work with women. The energy is always different. I like working with men too, but working with a bunch of creative women in the same room? The energy is kind of magnetic and beautiful. We’ll continue shooting in choice locations around the city for the next few days, and I can’t wait for all the beauty that’ll come out of this project.

READ ALSO: A Week in the Life of an Instagram Thrift Vendor

Check back every Tuesday by 9 a.m. for more “A Week in the Life” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, interview me!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s A Week in the Life is a massage therapist. He tells us about the stereotypes that plague his hustle, how he deals with sexual assault but why he loves what he does anyway.

MONDAY

I don’t have a schedule because every day is different and I work Sunday to Sunday. Sometimes, I wake up at 4 a.m., sometimes, at 5 or 6 a.m. If the previous day was very busy, I may even wake up by 9 a.m. Like today.

My schedule is very tight and it gets overwhelming pretty quickly. Yesterday, I worked till I was sore, so I needed to rest well. When I wake up at 9 a.m. today, the first thing I do is to pray. After prayers, I check my phone because nine out of ten times, prospective clients DM me on social media. They prefer to text than to call, so before I prepare for the day, I make sure I catch up on messages.

I’m a freelancer, but I’m associated with spas in town. I pay these spas a percentage of my earnings per session. This is how booking works: People text me to introduce themselves and check if I’m available. While discussing with a prospective client, I reach out to the nearest spa to find out if the requested time slot is free. If it’s not, I have to work with the client and the spa to find a more suitable time.

Sometimes, people want private service in their homes, hotel rooms, offices, lounge, et cetera. These sessions cost more than spa sessions because of logistics — I have to transport my mobile massage kit to their location, and it takes more time to move to and from their location than if they come to the spa.

There are a few terms and conditions clients have to agree to before the booking is confirmed. One, the payment. Two, they must be available at the time slot they’re booking. And three, if they want to cancel, they need to reschedule or cancel at least three hours before the time. Advance payments are non-refundable.

I charge from ₦20k upwards for spa sessions, while private service fees start from ₦30k depending on the duration of the massage and the distance.

I always leave for the spa at least one hour before an appointment so I can relax and get set before the client comes in for their massage. If it’s a first-timer, I explain the procedure and walk them through the process so they can be relaxed. I also ask them if they have any allergies.

When we’re ready, I get them to dress down to their comfort level; a professional massage therapist does not use the term “undress” or “naked” because the profession itself is already oversexualised. I show them to the bathroom and leave the room so they can get ready. By the time I return, they should have laid face-down on the table.

TUESDAY

I have two appointments today: a spa session and a private session at 12 p.m and 4 p.m. respectively. The client at the spa is a man who needs a deep tissue massage, while the 4 p.m. is a woman who needs a Swedish massage at her apartment in Wuse.

Swedish is the mildest kind of massage that involves long strokes in a therapeutic manner, while deep tissue massages require slow, deep strokes with a lot more pressure. For carrier oils, my favourite oil to use is almond oil, but it’s very expensive. I also use mustard seed oil and coconut oil. For essential oils, I use lavender or mint oil. Essential oils are very potent and should be used in tiny quantities, only a few drops at a time. They need carrier oils to dilute them. If I have a handful of coconut oil, for example, I only need a drop of essential oil.

In my experience, women ask for Swedish massage more while men are more likely to request deep tissue. It could be that men’s skins are tougher and they like to feel more pressure. Only one man has ever asked me for a Swedish massage.

I also offer hot stone massages, pre and post-natal massages, head massages, feet massages, reflexology and aromatherapy, but Swedish and deep tissue are the most requested.

Just as I’m about to close for the day at 6 p.m., a lady DMs me on Instagram to ask if I can come to massage her in her apartment in Kubwa. I could use the extra cash, but Kubwa is far from where I live (in Jikwoyi). I’m very tired, so I ask her to reschedule for the next day. I’m pretty flexible with my job, but I try not to be too available because massaging people takes a lot of concentration and effort. If I don’t rest, I’ll burn out very fast.

WEDNESDAY

When people hear I’m a massage therapist, they automatically think I’m a sex worker. People ask me all the time whether I offer “happy endings”. I don’t.

I’ve been called a prostitute or porn star several times. We live in a society where a lot of things are sexualised; we give a sexual connotation to many things. Also, many people had their first encounter with massages from porn. So there’s a mindset that that is how we massage therapists behave exactly as they are portrayed in porn.

A big part of my job is trying to help people unlearn such stereotypes and see the benefits of massage. My job is to help people relax, offer relief to aching muscles, and generally, make people feel better. There’s an art and science to being a massage therapist.

Unfortunately, sexual harassment and assault are common occupational hazards. While massaging today’s client, she grabbed my crotch and was surprised that I wasn’t hard. According to her, she was good looking, so why didn’t I have an erection?

I told her, “Madam, I’m only doing my job. You’re paying me for a service. I don’t know you from Adam, so why would I want to risk my image, name and freedom to do something stupid?”

Being a massage therapist is a very sensitive job. The fact that someone can pay and trust me enough to put themselves in a vulnerable state means a lot to me. It involves a high level of trust, and I can’t take advantage of that.

Also, one bad review can ruin my reputation. Navigating incidences like this is very dicey, so I always try to keep it as professional as possible. Even mere gossip can ruin me. Nobody likes to be harassed, that’s why I’m always on my guard. The way I see it, I’m a soldier. What soldier goes to war without being prepared? I cleared the woman and told her not to try it again.

THURSDAY

I massage all genders, but the majority of my clients are women. Unfortunately, I also get to meet homophobic people. Someone might say, “A man touching me doesn’t feel right”, and then, request a female massage therapist. I’ve also had heterosexual men request a male massage therapist. Either way, I’ve learnt to respect people’s choices and only go where they sent me work.

There are body parts I never touch. I don’t touch men’s genitals. I only offer breast and yoni massages — “Yoni” means vulva — to a very select pool of clients. And it depends on my intuition. For example, if a 21-year-old lady asked for a yoni massage, I’d say no.

Today, I massaged three clients, two men and one woman, all at the spa. By the time I got back home, I was too tired to even eat, so I just slept off.

FRIDAY

While I was waiting for my 10 a.m. client today, I started reflecting on my career. I’ve been a massage therapist since 2017 even though it’s not something I expected to be. I studied mass communication and was a journalist for a bit after graduation. But in 2015, during a trip to Abuja, I had a five-star stay at a hotel with complimentary spa treatment, and my life changed. For the next two years, I learnt massage therapy on the side.

I didn’t exactly like my job and the workplace, and I’d been planning to leave anyway. After I left the job in 2017, things became very tight for me, but one day, a friend whose feet I used to massage, suggested I do it full-time. She referred me to a physiotherapist who trained me professionally.

In 2018, I got loans from friends, bought a massage bed. I was using a Blackberry previously and it was very limited. So I bought an android phone as well. Then I dived into massage therapy full-time and started building my practice. In 2022, I’m well on my way to fulfillment.

Nothing satisfies me more than people expressing gratitude after I’ve massaged them. It’s one thing for people to pay for a service, but it hits different when people are so grateful that they pay me nicely and refer me to new clients. The day a celebrity client paid me 100k for a one-hour massage session, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I also got a tip!

There’s nothing I love more than seeing people feel better. Massage therapy helps fight depression and insomnia, encourages stress relief and boosts the immune system. The best compliment anyone can give me is to tell me they feel lighter and better after a massage session. When I see a client snoring on my massage table, it means I’ve finished work.

My ideal future would be to own a spa, get an international certification and travel around the world.

ALSO READ: “Abuja Big Boys Are the Worst” — A Week in the Life of a Nightlife Content Creator

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, interview me!
When it comes to conversations on the internet, the topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. So I decided to find out more about how people are managing their relationships across different income brackets.

Today, I’m speaking with Kingsley* 28, a lawyer and content writer based in Abuja, and had him explain how he’s holding down his one-year-old relationship on a ₦180k salary.

Total monthly income

Around ₦180k monthly (salary is ₦100k, freelance jobs cover for the rest). I used to earn an extra ₦100k from driving for a cab service, but the car is no longer available.

Bills and recurring expenses

Rent is ₦450,000.

Utilities and subscriptions are recurring expenditures: Electricity, water, and cooking gas. I have to restock my kitchen and toiletries too. Then other miscellaneous expenses like cab fares and fast food.

Entertainment: Netflix and Amazon for movie streaming, and The Athletic for football analysis. I also read The Economist and The Atlantic. Sometimes when I feel like it, I subscribe to Medium’s premium plan too.

Black tax: I send my grandmother some money. It’s not a consistent sum. It varies from time to time. There’s also the occasional billing from acquaintances.

Savings: I’m involved in two different contributory saving thrifts. That’s how I save for rent and unforeseen expenses.

How long have you been in a relationship?

A little over a year. Thirteen months and four days.

How much does your partner earn?

About ₦100k monthly. I may be wrong, sha. I try not to concern myself with my partner’s finances.

How did y’all start dating?

I met my partner on Facebook and we got talking; we were friends for about four months which gave me insight into her work, dreams and goals and life in general. From our conversations, I knew I was going to ask her out. She was rounding off NYSC but I waited until she got settled in her own place before I asked her to be my girlfriend.

Why did you wait till she settled down before asking her to be your girlfriend?

Because it was important to date someone that wasn’t dependent on me. My previous partner was a university student. And even though she didn’t feel entitled to my money, she still had university student problems that she complained about, which would prompt me to step in.

When that relationship ended, I was still in law school, so I decided that my next partner would need to be financially independent. After law school, I got employed and stayed single for about two years. I went on dates and hoed around for a bit. But I kept in mind that I would only get into a relationship that wouldn’t require me to be a breadwinner.

RELATED: QUIZ: How Much of a Hoe Are You on a Scale of 0-10?

How much do you budget for relationship sturvs?

Not much. We don’t live in the same city (she lives in Lagos), so there’s not much to do with money except the times she visits. When she’s coming over, I pay for half of her return flight ticket (economy class), but I handle the travel expenses myself when I visit her, LMAO. Other than flight expenses, birthday gifts, and occasional loans, it’s a budget-friendly relationship.

Walk me through a typical staycation when either of you visits the other

When I’m alone, I typically just have rice, noodles and other Nigerian bachelor food staples. But when she’s over, I stock my kitchen like a 35-year-old with a family by buying foodstuff I typically don’t on a regular day. I buy wine, typically sweet wine because that’s what my girlfriend prefers. Four Cousins is the most recurring so I gats just load up small. She does most of the food shopping, especially spices, seafood, etc.

She doesn’t spend more than a week when she visits, and when we do go out to eat, we go to relatively inexpensive restaurants.

A decent restaurant in Abuja is fairly pricey, so each restaurant outing is between ₦12–₦15k, depending on where we go and what we eat. We’re most likely to eat rice or pasta.

We go on these dates once or twice per visit — not more than twice sha. It depends on how much money is available. Sometimes, she foots the bills. But I know I spend around ₦40k on dating whenever she’s around. I love watching movies with loved ones, so we go to the movies too.

We also spend a lot of time indoors, eating and cuddling. It’s pretty much the same routine when I visit her in Lagos.

Now that you’re in a serious relationship, what kind of conversations do you have with your woman about money?

I’m still not comfortable discussing my finances with my people in detail — even with my parents. Even though my partner is open about her money, I don’t ask her about it because I don’t want to know. She’s complained that I’m not particularly eager to talk about money. I know that when we get married, I’ll need to be fully transparent about my finances, so I’m working on myself. Right now, we still live pretty different lives in different cities, so until then.

That being said, we do help each other out when either of us is in a tight spot financially. When she needs help with a nonessential expense, she playfully asks. If I can afford it, I pay for it. I appreciate the relationship because she doesn’t put me under pressure, and I’m not ashamed that I don’t have plenty of money. She also sends me money when she can.

RELATED: Why Don’t Nigerians Talk About Their Personal Income?

Do you have a financial safety net?

Yes, I have some savings and I’m involved in two different thrift groups. I have about ₦700k in total savings, which will be cut in half when I take my rent out of it, so not really a safety net, but then we go again. I’m positive of a major boost in income in the coming months, sha, as I’ve started considering more lucrative job offers from a couple of organisations.

What’s the ideal financial future you want for yourself and your partner?

I’m not the kind of person who dreams of becoming wealthy or taking over the world. I just want to be able to raise a family and give my children a comfortable life. If I hit upper-middle class, I’m fine.

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A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles and victories of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s A Week in the Life is Efe Edosio, a video producer. His work involves planning, implementing and supervising all of the elements of a video project. He tells me about having to dial back on his creativity with difficult clients and what it’ll take to get him to 10/10 career satisfaction score.

MONDAY

Mondays are pretty chill for me. I wake up at 9 a.m., and I’m glad I don’t have to get up and go. I even call my friends who have nine-to-fives and remind them that I’m at home while they’re at work.

But I do have to work. I like to describe myself as a visual storyteller with a focus on video content. My Mondays are for admin work. I have meetings scheduled with my editors from 10 a.m. till noon. In these meetings, we set the tone of work for the week. We assess the videos that were shot over the previous week and decide on things like post-production processes and delivery timelines.

I’m a freelancer who has built a network of clientele, so I get all my gigs from referrals. This means I also have to report to clients and stakeholders directly. After the editorial meeting, I meet with clients and go over the projects with the information from the discussion with my editors.

Today, I finished all my meetings at 1 p.m. and was free for the rest of the day. Last week was really stressful, and I’d spent the weekend working. Since I was free, I decided I needed a real break, so I went to Landmark beach and relaxed for a couple of hours, taking in the sights and de-stressing.

By 6 p.m., I booked a cab and headed home, but the two-hour traffic from VI to Iwaya almost destroyed all the relaxation I’d gained during my time-out. Still, I managed to get home in high spirits. I cooked myself dinner, watched a movie and went to bed.

TUESDAY

The hardest part of my job is having to cut down on my creativity just to meet clients’ expectations.

As a creative video producer, here’s what happens when I’m in talks with clients. I’m building up the story and the angle I believe is the best way to tell the story that the client wants to be told. My creative juices are pumping, and I’m excited about the project. Then the client comes in and is like, “Noooo. We don’t like this angle. Can you do it like this?”

Having to bend my creativity to suit clients is usually hard, but the client is king, and I have to find that point where my creativity and the client’s expectations complement each other. That way, I’m delivering what they want in the most creative way possible. But some clients are indecisive and keep changing things. Like today.

The client had agreed with my ideas and direction, and we had gone into pre-production on their ad. Midway through shooting, one of the founders came on set and said, “Yeah, I don’t think this should be like this. I don’t think this’ll work.” And in my head, I was like, “What the hell?” This is something we’d already agreed on with his team. We were all on the same page, so where’s all this coming from? I was in the middle of doing what they wanted.

A lot of people underrate how much work is done, and how expensive it is to produce a professional video. People also think shooting is the main work, but that’s not true; a lot of work is done during pre-production before we even bring out our cameras.

But you can’t blow up on your client. I was like, “You know what? Hold on.” I called their team’s liaison who was on set and said, “So, can you run through the plans for us again?” Because the founder’s complaints would have cancelled all the work we’d done already. Some clients do that and don’t want to pay extra, so in this job, patience is really a virtue.

I eventually sorted things out by going over the initial plan again with the liaison and explaining why the story was being told that way to the co-founder.

WEDNESDAY

During break on set today, I let my mind drift. Last year, I’d seen stories of a child named Ferdinard, who turned out to be a chess genius after being discovered by the Chess in Slums project. I pitched the idea for a documentary and the organisation agreed.

Everybody knows Makoko is a slum, but being in the middle of it is a completely different experience. With documentaries, you get the chance to plan things out, but for the most part, you have to go with the flow and follow the story.

While in Makoko, I was holding onto my equipment while trying to film and stay afloat on a boat at the same time. I was scared AF. But in the end, it was a lot of fun because I got to tell the remarkable story of the boy genius and showcase these wonderful kids to the world. I had full creative control and was able to document the contrast between where these gifted kids came from and the places they were going. The documentary has been nominated for awards at film festivals and won Best Documentary at one of them.

THURSDAY

Today was interesting. I was in discussions with two very different prospective clients. I met the first totally by accident. I walked into their office like a regular customer, and while the business owner was convincing me to patronise her brand, she walked me through the brand story. That’s when it clicked. I liked what she was doing — it was fresh and unique — so I pitched a storytelling angle to her. She loved it and told me she wanted to create a visual story but she hadn’t quite found someone who understood her vision. By the time I walked out of her office, we had agreed to work together, and I know I’m going to enjoy the project.

But the second perspective client I met? Totally different story. The man underpriced me so badly that if I hadn’t had the encounter with the first lady, he would have ruined my day. I have never turned down a client so fast. People like them will stress your life.

FRIDAY

It’s the drive to document culture that gets me out of bed in the morning. I don’t have any side hustle. An ideal future will be one where I’m involved in the most compelling stories coming out from Africa. But right now, I’m content. I can’t think of anything else I’d be doing if I wasn’t visual storytelling.

After my meeting with one of my editors today, I wondered what I’d score if I were to rate my career on a scale of one to ten. But I didn’t have to think too long because I decided it’d be a solid eight. When I no longer have to worry about money, I’ll give myself a ten — along with a pat on the back.

By 6 p.m., it’s TGIF time. I’ll spend my weekend cooking, watching documentaries and movies and relaxing. I’ve earned it.

ALSO READ: The Nollywood Screenwriter Who Just Can’t Rest — A Week in the Life

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I’d like to be featured!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

In this week’s A Week in the Life, I talked with a content creator who works in three Abuja nightclubs. She walked me through what it’s like to meet celebrities and “Abuja big boys”, fend off creepy men and deal with sexism in the nation’s capital, all in a week’s work. Find out below.

THURSDAY – FRIDAY

I create content for a network of nightclubs in Abuja, so I work Thursday to Saturday because that’s when the clubs are in full swing.

I work at night, but my body cannot sleep past 9 a.m. To keep myself busy in the morning, I focus on my side hustle where I work as a virtual assistant for an online shoe store in Lagos. Between 9 and 11 a.m., I take orders and respond to inquiries. Then I get up from bed and go through the morning motions: brush my teeth, bathe and make breakfast.

By midday, I prepare my outfit for the night, pack my makeup and accessories and head over to my friend’s place. My friend is also my coworker, so we hang out in the afternoon to trade ideas, banter and mentally prepare for the weekend.

By 8 p.m., we start getting ready properly. We take a long time to prepare, so we have to start early. When we’re done, we’ll go to a lounge and chill until 1 a.m. when clubbers start to party.

My job as a nightclub content creator is to document the night’s events and share them on social media. I take photos of all the exciting moments and post them on social media. Is an Abuja big boy spending money while his guys cheer him on? I capture it. Is anybody ordering Azul? I record the procession and create visual content around it for Instagram. I even catch the occasional fight and anything else that can get people talking, and distribute them across our social media channels.

I work with a network of three nightclubs in Abuja. The first club starts around 1 a.m. Then, I head over to the second club. The third one is where clubbers end their night.

Abuja nightlife is weird because people leave the club at daybreak, change their cars and go to work. My work is super-stressful because I barely get any sleep. I finish from the clubs around 6 a.m, and for some reason, I can’t sleep past 9 a.m. I try to make up for the lost sleep from next Monday to Wednesday night, but I’m surprised I haven’t broken down since I started this job in January 2022.

FRIDAY – SATURDAY

The best part of this job is also the worst. I meet a lot of well-connected people. The networking aspect of Abuja nightlife is fantastic; one conversation can change your life. All the celebrities, Abuja big boys and upper-middle-class folk I would have needed to jump through hoops and hurdles to see on a typical day? They’re in the club. My boss occasionally introduces me to someone important who could give me an opportunity to create content for them and get paid.

Since I network a lot, I also get harassed often. Abuja men are a special breed. They’re built different, mehn. They don’t let me breathe. There’s always some guy who wants to talk even when I’m not in the mood, and they say the nastiest, most unprintable things. Abuja men no dey carry eye see person. They’re touchy-feely and just assume that when they see a young girl in the club at night, they can take her home. Oga, I’m just here to do my job. Free me.

Let me not even get started about all the men who think I’m a runs girl.

Sometime this night, I was moving around and making videos when a man as old as my father walked up to me and told me, “Come home with me,” in a cold, authoritative voice, as if he put jazz in his mouth. I’ve never cringed so hard.

The other thing that stresses me out is all the alcohol I drink at the club. I’m already sick of it. Also, I’m a content creator, so my job requires that I’m always on my feet. All that standing and moving about wears me out at the end of every night. My heels are constantly in pain.

But the salary is cool cash, and the perks that come with the job balance things out.

SATURDAY – SUNDAY

I got into a fight today.

Usually, I stay at my boss’ table, but one of my friends was visiting the club, so I hung out with him. My coworker tagged along, only for one weird drunk guy to start harassing her, trying to get her to go home with him. He was touching her and saying nonsense like, “I will fuck you well-well.” I noticed his antics and switched seats with my friend, but this guy didn’t leave her alone. He went around me and continued harassing her. When she resisted, he poured his drink in her face, slapped her and started yelling and pulling her hair. I saw red. All I could think about was defending her, so I jumped on him and started fighting back.

My friend grabbed the drunk fool, picked up a bottle of Azul and was ready to break the stupid man’s head. But the bouncers held him back and started begging him.

After things calmed down, the bouncers wanted to throw me out, but my friend who owned the table defended me. He argued that I was an employee of the club and should be protected rather than thrown out. The bouncers often treat ladies badly and use the slightest excuse to punish us just for being women.

The club world in Abuja is very sexist. Most times, women aren’t even allowed into clubs unless they are with men. It’s so stupid because why can’t a woman want to chill on her own? The only thing that saved me from being thrown out of my own workplace was that my friend is an Abuja boy, the manager of another big club.

It made no sense, but these are the kinds of rubbish I have to deal with.

By the time I got home this fine Sunday morning, I was exhausted. All that was on my mind was that I didn’t want to keep doing this every day. I want to get to a point where I don’t have to go to the club three times a week. I would prefer to visit the club once a week, take photos and videos, post them and get paid.

I’m thankful that I don’t have to work until next Thursday. I’ll sleep as much as I can, do my virtual assistant side hustle and mentally prepare myself for next weekend’s work.

Editor’s note: names of people and places have been removed to protect the identity of the subject.

ALSO READ: “Nigerians Think They Know English” — A Week in the Life of an IELTS Tutor

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured
“A Week in the Life“ is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s “A Week in the Life” is Adeola Badmus, an Abuja-based IELTS tutor. She talks about her struggles with teaching proud adults, Nigerians who think they shouldn’t write IELTS and why she loves her job so much regardless.

SUNDAY

My Sunday tutorial sessions are in the afternoon, and I don’t go to church, so I sleep in until 9:30 a.m. When I get up, I do my morning skincare routine. While my skincare mask is on, I clean my apartment. After that, I take my bath and go back to bed.

My session usually starts at 1 p.m., but today, I decided to chill because I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with the traffic at City Gate on weekends. It would be a smooth 20-minute trip from Lugbe to Central Business District in town.

My plan worked to the “T”: I stepped into my workplace at exactly 1 p.m.

IELTS has four parts: Listening, Reading, Writing and Speaking. Today, I taught Speaking, my favourite class.

People communicate with each other every day — with friends, family, colleagues — but once you start asking them questions and expecting them to give you answers, to practise for a test, everything changes. You see people changing their accents and stumbling over their words, unsure of what they’re saying and making mistakes they may not make on a normal day. People behave differently when they’re being monitored; they feel judged. My job is to make sure they perform well in such situations.

During the class, someone expressed discomfort. She said, “I’m sorry. Can I take that again?” after answering a question. I asked why, and she said she felt like she had just messed up, from the way I was looking at her. I hadn’t even said anything. It’s funny to see adults squirm under perceived pressure, a wicked kind of fun, but it’s just interesting to watch otherwise hard guys and babes become very feel self-conscious. I spent the next few minutes making small talk with my students and trying to draw them out of their shells. I always make sure students can be comfortable with me at all times.

By 5 p.m., I got dinner from a cafe on the next street and headed home, where I had a private class from 6-9 p.m. waiting for me. I ran the three-hour private listening classes virtually, and today’s client is in Dubai. She struggled with names, especially “Kramer” because the letters “C vs K” confused her, but I walked her through several examples.

After the class, I was exhausted and slept off while scrolling through Facebook.

MONDAY

On Mondays, I have morning and afternoon sessions: 9-12 and 1-4 p.m.

Teaching adults is not the same as teaching children. It’s actually more difficult. Teachers can punish difficult secondary school students who are misbehaving. Growing up, my teachers scolded or flogged me, or sent me out of the class. But all these are off the table when you’re teaching adults.

Managing petulant adults is a skill that requires patience and diplomacy. And that’s what a lot of teachers don’t know. There’s a student who got transferred to my class today. He complained that his previous teacher was rude. While reporting to my boss, he said, “I’m in his class, but I’m not his child.”

Many of my students are people with jobs and responsibilities. They come to classes from their place of work, and many have multiple jobs and families to support. So I have to consider that they’re stressed already, and I’m careful not to give them more than they can handle.

The costs of japa-ing are not cheap, so some of them are upper-middle-class snobs — people wey get bread, so I also have to manage big egos. Some of my students are professionals like senior doctors and nurses who want to get a better life abroad.

A lady came to my class during the afternoon session and was sizing everyone up like we were all beneath her. She looked me over and asked my boss, “Do you think this one has anything to offer me?”

I smiled gracefully. I’m in Abuja after all.

I’ll just give her two weeks. She’ll want to be my best friend.

That incident made me remember the Indian guy who joined my class last year. He was surprised to see a Nigerian teach IELTS so well. He said, “How come you know English this well?”

He told me he had Nigerians working under him, and he saw us as half-baked. He had also wanted to sign up with an American prep centre because he didn’t think a Nigerian could teach him. Funny, because he wasn’t exactly the brightest student. I didn’t know how to respond to such a backhanded compliment, but I brushed it off and got on with teaching. When his results came out, he passed quite all right, but he wasn’t among the best performers in my class, so what was up with the snobbery?

If not for confidentiality and ethics, I would have rubbed my best students’ results in his face. It’s tough dealing with snobby clients like these, but it’s the job I chose, so I do my best to handle them.

TUESDAY

When students get frustrated, they start complaining, “Why do Americans and British people force us to write IELTS?” They say it’s unfair for Nigerians because English is our official language. The common argument is that many indigenes of Western countries have a very poor command of the English language, many of them are illiterate.

And I get it, but I explain that the British Council grading system is not placing applicants against illiterates, they’re measuring us up against educated indigenes. They want to attract competitive talent, people who’ll add value to their economy.

WEDNESDAY

Today, a former student sent me $500. He used to have doubts about his abilities, but he passed his test in flying colours and is now in Canada.

When former students send me gifts like this, I’m always emotional. It’s a gift to be able to help people’s dreams come true. My current job is the healthiest I’ve ever had, and my students really help me shine. But it wasn’t always like this.

At my previous job in Ibadan, I endured an abusive environment and barely escaped rape. The job didn’t pay much, and during COVID, they slashed my salary. I had to take extra classes to make extra money. I was barely hanging on. I no longer looked forward to stepping out of my house in the mornings.

But when a staff sexually assaulted me at work, and the boss said, “Not every man can be around a woman and not be tempted,” I knew I had to leave.

A few weeks later, a friend recommended me to my current company. I sent in my IELTS results and attended an interview. They liked me so much that they relocated me to Abuja. Now, they pay a major portion of my rent, and I work with the best people. My salary has increased twice in nine months, and my employers seem to care about my growth.

Why won’t I keep shining?

ALSO READ: “Nigerians Like to Do Anyhow” — A Week in the Life of a Wedding Planner

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s A Week in the Life is Saviour Uffort, a computer technician in Uyo who also sells Ewa Agoyin as a side hustle. He tells us about his struggles as a technician, how he started a side business cooking beans and why his Ewa Agoyin always bangs.

MONDAY

Every Monday, I wake up at 6 a.m. and do my home workouts: squats, push-ups and other bodyweight exercises. By 8 a.m., I’m done. Then I log on to Facebook and wear my motivational speaker hat: I post positive thoughts to inspire to perspire and aspire. It’s cheesy, but it gets the people going. I post photos of the gadgets I’m selling, including refurbished and UK-used iPhones and laptops.

By 9: 30 a.m., I shower, have breakfast and step out to chase my daily bread: repairing computers. Today, I had to pick up an HP 15 laptop at Abak Road, Uyo, bring it back to my home office and diagnose the problem. The sun was fucking hot, so when I stepped back into my room at 11:30, I was grateful to have escaped it.

By 12:30, I’d found the problem: the keyboard was fried and needed to be replaced. When I informed the owner of the problem and the cost, they said they’d get back to me. I knew they were talking to other technicians and considering cheaper alternatives because that’s something I would do. Nigeria is hard these days.

My business model is that people don’t have to come to my shop to get their laptops fixed. I save customers the stress and pick up the gadgets at no extra cost, make the diagnosis, repair and deliver them back to their doorstep.

But today, I wouldn’t just sit back and wait for the customer’s green light because I had other things to do. So I stepped out to face the sun again. I had a contract to install security cameras across town with a colleague who’s into computer networking in Ewet Housing Estate. As we rounded up around 5 p.m., the clouds started threatening rain, and wild winds blew.

Uyo’s rains are weird because sometimes, the weather changes right before it starts falling; other times, it can take hours after the winds to see the first drop of rain. I’d hoped today would be the latter, so I thought I might make a dash for it. But by the time I got to my bus stop, the rain started falling. Rain beat me shege, but I managed to hobble to my friend’s place to wait it out.

I finally got back home around 7:30 pm. All I wanted to do was drink something hot, press my phone and sleep off.

TUESDAY

I woke up today groggy from yesterday’s wahala. But when the owner of the laptop called and told me to go ahead and change its keyboard. My mood lifted because, daily ₦2k secured!

While I was fixing the laptop, all I was thinking about was that this life chose me. When I was 11, my friend’s brick game broke. He was miserable because it was still new, but I later picked it up and opened it up with my dad’s screwdriver, curious to check why it wasn’t working. I found that it was just a single wire that cut, and once I taped it, the game came on. I was like, “Oh wow!” Then my journey to “destruction” started.

Nothing escaped my curious hands: DVD players, fans, TVs, radios, etc. And I got beaten a lot. The day I dismantled the TV, my father suspended me in the air with one hand and whipped me with his other hand. I thought he was Superman that day.

Back then, a neighbour owned a Pentium 4 desktop computer, and during the holidays, I used to go to his place to play computer games with the children in the neighbourhood. The man got tired of us, and one day he disconnected some plugs from the CPU’s motherboard before leaving the house so the neighbourhood kids would not be able to operate it.

When we arrived and tried to switch the computer on and it didn’t work, some kids left in disappointment. But me? I thought: since I’d messed with my parent’s appliances and fixed my friend’s brick game, I could give this a shot. So I opened the CPU and analysed the ports. I decided that two things would happen there: either I messed the system up, or I made it work. I worked on it for a while, trying to memorise how it was before I started working on the system in case I needed to unplug the cables and leave them as they were when I met them. After a few more minutes with no success, the remaining kids who’d stuck around gave up and left.

Me? I kept at it o. After like an hour, the computer finally came on. The feeling I had when I saw the monitor light up? That was the turning point for me. I didn’t call the rest of the children because I wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labour alone. I turned down the volume and played for hours until the owner returned. He was shocked that I could connect the computer and make it come on. “Etok Ifod,” he called me. Small witch.

That man is a hardware technician and has mentored me since then, all the way to adulthood.

By the time I turned 17, done with secondary school, I got a job as a cyber cafe attendant. But my curiosity took the better part of me and I understudied the head technician for a year, occasionally helping out with technical issues around the cafe for extra cash.

I went on to study Computer Science in university, but only learnt theory in school. My classmates quickly realised that academics in a Nigerian university wouldn’t do much for our careers. Some of my classmates went into software development, and some went into design. As a hands-on person, I chose computer hardware and networking. I underwent COMPTIA A+, N+ and CCNA training in 2018 and have been a hardware technician ever since. These days, I have dreams of leaving Nigeria and getting an advanced degree.

***

When I finished replacing the keyboard on the laptop, I realised I’d been smiling, just like when I fixed that brick game so many years ago.

WEDNESDAY

Omo. Today was an awful day. Last week, I ordered a printer for a customer and shipped it from Lagos to Uyo via God is Good Logistics. When it arrived, I realised that one of its components was damaged. The client asked me to fix it because he needed it ASAP instead of waiting for GIGL to remedy the situation, as that would take a lot of time. I said, “No wahala.”

While repairing the printer, it discovered other faulty components. Imagine buying a printer for ₦125k with a profit margin of ₦5k, and then having to fix multiple problems. The client — a lawyer — started getting aggressive and threatened to get me arrested. So I gave the printer to a printer repairer to replace the parts. When I went to his shop at Ibom Plaza today, he told me that everything would cost ₦50k. I was devastated.

On my way home from Plaza, I saw one of my guys who’s a YouTuber. He was filming at the Plaza. Initially, I just wanted to walk past, go home and think about my life. But I decided to hail him. He called me over and we got talking. I found that our gist took my mind off my woes, so I offered to assist him with filming. I helped hold his tripod and gimbal and assisted with the angles and shots — I even got featured in the video. The banter was just what I needed, and my guy helped lift my mood.

I got home at around 9 p.m. and went straight to bed.

THURSDAY

While my main hustle involves computers, I cook and sell Ewa Agoyin on the side. So this morning, before I start fixing computers, I advertise my side hustle on Facebook and Whatsapp and take orders ahead of Saturday when I will cook the Ewa and dispatch deliveries across Uyo.

I’m the best cook among my friends. Anytime they’re having a gathering and food is important, they just leave it to me. So one day in March 2021, one of my guys visited me and asked, “Yo, you fit run Ewa Agoyin unto business level?”

I never planned to run a food business because I knew it would be hard. I don’t know how regular food vendors do it every day. But when my guy asked me to start selling Ewa Agoyin, I told him no.

But the following week, this guy started bombarding me with photos and links of food on Instagram. I was like, “Why you dey do me this thing? You know say I like food?” But he continued, and I eventually gave in — but on one condition: I would only handle the cooking while he handled logistics and the business side.

The following week, we test ran the experiment. I’d never made Ewa Agoyin before. But I called my mum (who lives in Lagos), went to YouTube, read recipes and called an Ewa Agoyin vendor for advice.

Later, I shopped for ingredients and cooked my first Ewa Agoyin while my guy invited 15 people to the tasting. I was super scared, but when the reviews came, they were mad. Suddenly, people started demanding more of something that I only planned to do as a one-off. The thing entered my head. Not gonna lie.

In the following weeks, my guy and I designed fliers, did some marketing on Facebook, and laid out business plans. In our first week of going public, we received seven orders. When we delivered, they all loved their meals. It was then I started to believe that this thing could actually work.

By June 2021, I got a loan from my mum and bought a cooker and other appliances that would make our operations faster. We also bought food items in bulk and tweaked our recipe.

The next problem was branding. We didn’t know what to name the business, but during a brainstorming session, my partner said, “Sagoyin.” I was like, “Wetin be this? Why the ‘Sa’?” He said it was a play on my name and Agoyin. It was silly, but it stuck.

Nowadays, I take orders from Facebook and Whatsapp during the week, cook on Friday night/Saturday morning, and my partner delivers them on Saturday afternoon. I like our current model because I only cook once a week, and it also gives people something to look forward to for the weekend. It’s a side hustle, but I’d die if I had to do this every day. On average, we receive about 15-20 orders weekly. The week I got up to 32 orders, I almost passed out.

Last weekend, we had an order for a pack of Ewa Agoyin, and the customer loved it so much that he sent us a tip of ₦5k. It was wild! Imagine ordering a plate of less than ₦2k and giving us ₦5k on top. Omo, the thing sweet my belle die, and e dey ginger me for this weekend.

FRIDAY

Today, I switched my focus to my main hustle and absolutely killed it. I repaired an old ass PC, an HP Elitebook. The system was dead when the client called me; he reported one problem: it wasn’t booting, but when I went to pick up the laptop, I suspected that when fixing it, I would find other issues. I’ve been doing this for a long time, so my instincts rarely lie.

At first, I wanted to turn down the job, but I decided to take on the challenge. It’d been a stressful week, and I wanted to end on a winning note. Also, I didn’t want my transport fare to waste. If I’d told the client about all the potential problems I suspected, they’d probably back out.

So I brought the laptop back home and spent hours researching and fixing all the problems. In the end, everything worked. The customer was ecstatic. I’d pretty much brought the laptop back from the dead.

My whole life is devoted to fixing things and making people happy: when people receive their repaired hardware or eat great-tasting meals, it brings me great joy.

By the time I finish other technical tasks, it’s 4 p.m, and it’s been one hell of a week. But it’s not over yet: tomorrow is Sagoyin Saturday Special. So I have to start cooking tonight if I’m to meet up.

I count the total orders Sagoyin has received — 21 this week — and make a list before going to the market by 5:30 pm. I return by 6:30 and stay in the kitchen until midnight because the preparation is in two stages, Friday night and Saturday morning.

Here’s how tomorrow will go: I’ll wake up by 5 a.m and pick up where I left off tonight. By 8 a.m-ish., I’ll be done, and by 8:30–9 a.m, I’ll send my partner out to deliver the orders. Me? I’ll clean up the kitchen and sleep till 4 p.m., when I’ll get up and go out to watch Manchester United break my heart.

Check back every Tuesday by 9 a.m. for more A Week in the Life goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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Jude Dike was diagnosed with myopia after his fifth birthday and had worn prescription glasses all his life. But that changed when he underwent laser eye surgery in 2022.

This is Jude’s journey from prescription glasses to 20/20 vision, as told to Ama Udofa.

My grandparents and some of their siblings wore glasses; my parents and their siblings all wear glasses. I and my two siblings wear glasses. Growing up, whenever we went out together, we were known as the family where everyone wore glasses. In church, we had special seats.

Until this month, I’d never known life without glasses, as I started wearing them when I was five. I would sit dangerously close to the TV, and my parents would warn me against it. After my fifth birthday, I’d had headaches for three days, so my mother took me to see an optician who diagnosed myopia.

In school, I was a walking stereotype: the smallish smart kid who wore glasses. I got into JSS1 on my 10th birthday. At boarding school, kids always wanted to try my glasses on to see how they’d look in them. I had three pairs, so when the first one broke after going through several different heads, I switched to my backups. They wanted to try those as well. My dad kept buying pairs, until one day, he got tired and said fuck it, he wasn’t going to buy them again.

For a year, I went without glasses. I didn’t write notes in class. I’d only copy from my seat partner later, or sometimes, I’d just walk to the blackboard. My classmates complained, but except they wanted to fix my eyes, there was nothing I could do. After a year, my dad finally bought me a new pair, and I never shared them again.

My whole life, I’ve worn glasses, and for the longest time, I hated that I couldn’t wear sunshades. I could wear photochromic glasses but they are still your glasses, not actual sunshades. I’d see some really dope ones, but I couldn’t rock them. I was always too scared of getting things in my eyes so I never considered contact lenses. Then in January 2022, my girlfriend gifted me a pair of recommended sunshades. I’d dreamed about wearing sunshades for the longest time so you can imagine my joy.

I’d always wanted to do surgery, but I didn’t know how to go about it, so I never really made it a priority.

Two weeks later, I saw a tweet about LASIK surgery, a type of laser eye surgery to correct vision. I thought, “You can do that in Nigeria?” I always assumed that it was an elaborate process and would be like $15,000 or even up to $30,000, so imagine my shock when people started recommending an eye surgery foundation in Lekki Phase One, Lagos.

Can you do LASIK in Nigeria? https://t.co/JScYTiEABR
— Retired Polysaccharide Patriarch (@bigbrutha_) January 9, 2022

I went to make inquiries in February. I was told that I had to do a bunch of eye tests, to check my cornea, to make sure my pupils dilated properly, and so on. The bill stunned me — everything came to just over ₦200k — but nothing could have prepared me for how much the actual procedure cost; it was ₦2m. I baulked. I started thinking, “Do I really want to do this right now?” My girlfriend encouraged me to just get it over with.

What sealed my resolve was when one of the nurses who had recently done hers shared that it changed her life. I had some forthcoming business trips to Kenya and Ghana, so I scheduled my appointment for the middle of March.

But when I came back from Ghana in early March, I could no longer wait, so I called and asked the doctor to move it forward.

On the day of the surgery, I did some more tests and signed an I-will-not-sue-you type of agreement. Before the LASIK procedure, I looked at the doctor and told her, “My eyes are literally in your hands right now.” She laughed and responded, “Your eyes are in God’s hands.”

I got on the operation table and she numbed my eyes with an anaesthetic. That’s when things got scary. There was a circular mechanical contraption, on the laser machine, that opened up my eyes, and even though I was numb, I could feel things move around in them. It was not painful at all, but the swiping at my eyeballs was a strange feeling.

Throughout the procedure, all I was thinking was, “How many people went blind when scientists were testing people to figure out this process? How many people had to die to perfect this?” And then, “Shit. I’m already here now. It’s either my eyes get better or I go blind as fuck. I’m a CEO now; would I lose my company and have to settle for jobs that don’t require reading or writing?”

My only job was to focus on the light source no matter what, so I forced myself to think happy thoughts.

My right eye was easy and took five minutes to complete, but with my left eye, I felt some pain. I think the anaesthesia had started to wear off, so I told her. She reapplied the numbing medicine and the pain reduced. Twenty-five minutes later — the longest 25 minutes of my life — we were done. The entire experience was interesting and scary at the same time.

It was after the surgery that I realised what had just happened. According to the tests, the laser had cut my cornea to adjust to a certain refraction level. It was painless and, after the surgery, I realised that the procedure didn’t actually take long. ended pretty quickly.

When I got off the table, everything was blurry. The doctor gave me some eye drops and instructions: apply the drops every hour for the next 24 hours and visit the eye clinic three more times within the month. Then, my friend drove me back home.

That night, I didn’t touch anything. Not my phone, not my TV, not my laptop. I just went to sleep. My friend would wake me up every hour to apply the eye drops. Thankfully, I’ve never had problems with falling asleep, so it was easy to drift back each time.

I woke up in the morning very groggy, but when I saw the painting in my room, I was like, “Shit. I just fucking saw that clearly!” I texted my friends, “Yooooo! I dey see die!”

My life changed that day. The first thing I did when I came online was to on Twitter to ask where I could buy sunshades. I had to get U/V-blocking glasses because my eyes were still very sore, and I had also been instructed to avoid direct U/V light for the next few weeks. A nurse told me she’d made the mistake of watching TV during her recovery period. Her eyes became swollen, prolonging her healing period. I had to be careful.

A Twitter mutual suggested a place in Lekki that sells designer glasses. The Chief Operating Officer’s mother had recently done eye surgery so she knew how to help me pick a suitable pair. The U/V-blocking glasses I bought cost ₦165k but they took ₦30k off because the person who recommended me is a “friend of the house”.

₦135k for glasses!

And they’re ugly as fuck, but at least they got the job done.

It’s been weeks now, and I still find myself instinctively reaching for my prescription glasses. There’s this thing people who’ve worn prescription glasses for a long time do, they adjust them at the bridge of their noses when they’re slipping off. I still do that out of habit. Well, I’ve sha thrown my prescription glasses away, and I’m glad I no longer need them.

Even though I paid all that money to see shege clearly, have you seen how cool I look in sunshades now?

If you liked this story, you’ll also like: I’m Lactose Intolerant, But I Can’t Leave Milk Alone
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Kedei Ibiang is a medical doctor who specialises in public health, but she quit her job this year (2022) and turned her focus to selling fragrances and scented candles. For today’s A Week in the Life, she explains the process of making fragrances, why she quit her job and the beauty of being in control of her time.

MONDAY

I’m not a morning person, so when I wake up at 7 a.m., the first thing I do is pick up my phone to check social media. I spend about 20 minutes checking my inboxes to ensure I’ve not missed any messages or inquiries from customers or prospective customers. Then, I catch up on Facebook and Instagram. There’s always one drama or the other. The recent one is about some lady influencer who scammed people for billions of naira in a Ponzi scheme. After 30 minutes of mindless scrolling, I’m out to face the business that pays me.

I spend the rest of the day packaging orders within Abuja for the delivery guy to pick up. When he does, I follow up with him and ensure that all the orders reach their buyers. For interstate orders, I have an account with a delivery company. The dispatch rider picks up the orders and drops them off at the company’s office, and they take it up from there.

I have terrible eating habits which means I often forget to eat. Ironic that I’m a doctor but I’m not a fan of food. If I could find a way to exist without eating, I would. But by late afternoon, I order food and go back to work until 7 p.m. I don’t have a social life, so after work, it’s Netflix until 10 or 11 p.m. when I sleep.

TUESDAY

When I started using perfumes around 2006, I discovered that I couldn’t use most sprays because my mum and I are asthmatic. I had respiratory allergies myself, which meant that the alcohol in perfumes choked me. The best I could use were roll-ons and body mists because of their lower alcohol content. Even then, I would run into the bathroom, spray whatever I needed to spray while pinching my nose shut, and run back into the room, slamming the bathroom door shut so I wouldn’t inhale the spray. Wild times.

But in 2017, I decided to look for non-alcoholic alternatives that are non-toxic and hypoallergenic. My search led me to start Kay’s Perfumery the following year. I eventually Then I expanded my product line to producing and selling scented candles, diffusers and room sprays. I also formulate fragrances once in a while.

My process starts with contacting my supplier in Dubai. Once every three or four months, I send him a list of fragrances I need, and we conclude on quantity, sizes and pricing. My orders usually cost anywhere from ₦300k to ₦600k, but the naira’s freefall has really affected my business. The quantity of oils I’d have gotten for ₦300k in 2021 now costs me an extra ₦75k to ₦100k. It’s really wild.

When I’m ready to pay, I send the payment through a middle man who converts my naira to dirhams. Once my supplier confirms that I’ve paid, he ships my order.

I play around with ideas in my head a lot, so when I get one that sticks, I just type it out on my phone’s notepad and expand on it. When I have enough options for the notes, I start formulating the scent. It’s sort of an elimination process: I decide on my main notes and the ones that I want to be in minute quantities, then I come up with the first sample which I test for notes and sillage — the trail created by a perfume when it’s worn on the skin. If I don’t feel comfortable with the scent, I go back to tweak it — drop some percentages, increase others, add a new note and repeat the process to come up with a second sample. I test it again: do I like it? Is it nice? Does it linger? I could repeat that process up to five times until I get something that works nicely. When I’m satisfied, I wear it out to gauge people’s reactions and the kind of compliments I get.

If it’s a scent I think would sit better on a guy, I gift it to a few friends or some old customers — if a longtime customer is lucky enough to be placing an order at the time I’m creating a new scent, I just throw in a small sample and ask them how they like it. I use their feedback to decide whether or not I’m adding it to my product line.

And when I create a scent that bangs? It really bangs. In December 2021, I formulated a signature diffuser — I called it “Christmas Wine” — that was a hit. I sold over ₦400k worth of it in eight days! The orders poured in so much that I had had to stop taking orders for two days so I wouldn’t break down from stress.

WEDNESDAY

Today, while I was writing ideas down for a new candle scent, I remembered the time I made a scent that flopped.

Before Valentine’s Day this year [2022], I was working on three special candle fragrances: Date Night, Love Potion and Let’s Get Nutty (which had coconut and truffles in it). I spent so much time on Love Potion because I wanted it to be the flagship. I had made noise about it on social media and people were hyped! I received so many pre-orders. The mix of notes was just perfect… in theory, but when I produced it, it turned out mid as fuck.

I tried so hard to make it work but it just didn’t. I was running out of time so I had to abandon it and inform my customers that Love Potion wasn’t going to be available due to unforeseen reasons. Luckily for me, customers accepted other fragrances. The Let’s Get Nutty that I didn’t really put much effort into making turned out to be the star — and saviour — of the show.

THURSDAY

Even though everything in this Nigeria is out to frustrate business owners, I still derive joy from this entrepreneurship thing. I carry my customers on my head, and I love it when they’re delighted, but once in a while, someone comes around and moves mad.

When I’m not making signature scents, I sell candles wholesale and produce in bulk for other brands. The candle industry is fairly new in Nigeria. People have started appreciating scented candles, so these days, they bring me almost 70% of my monthly revenue. Vendors buy my custom scents, slap their branding on them and resell. Sometimes, I take orders to import specific scents that can’t be found here, and I sell them as well.

In February, a lady reached out and asked me to make candles and diffusers, and import packaging materials for her. She had very niche requirements, and her order amounted to ₦1.2m. We spoke for over a week. I invested so much time and effort into this deal. I even informed my suppliers, and we finalised on shipping and delivery timeline. All that was left was payment. Then this babe ghosted me.

This thing pained me, I can’t lie. I’d been so happy about the deal because I wanted to get some things from a supplier in China at around the same time she reached out. I was like, “Oh, perfect. I’m just going to throw my other cargo into this and ship all of them at once.” The ghosting touched my chest.

To add insult to injury, she now blocked me. I was shocked when I found out. All she needed to do was just let me know she wasn’t going to proceed, but she just went ahead and blocked. Just. Like. That.

Me that like closure, I reached out to her through my personal IG profile only to receive excuses and apologies. She told me that something came up and yada yada yada. She now promised to continue the deal later on. Abeg abeg. At that point, I no longer gave a damn.

That experience has taught me to be more apprehensive of customers when they make certain inquiries. Sha the information I fed that babe for free, ehn? I suspect she didn’t really want to buy from me; she just wanted information. I hate when people waste my time. But we move.

FRIDAY

It’s not every day you see a medical doctor who sells perfumes, but abeg, at the moment, I’m not “doctoring”. I never liked clinical practice because it was very monotonous. I hated going through the same processes every day go to the hospital at 7:30 a.m., work all day till maybe 4 p.m., attend to the patients, rinse and repeat.

When it was time to specialise, I decided to go for public health because no two projects are the same. There’s always variety. I could work with organisations that either run as private firms or provide public health services to the government. So everything from infectious diseases or sexual reproductive health or maternal and child health.

For a while, I was running my fragrance business on the side. I used to coordinate a gender-based violence project that wrapped up in 2021. After that, I decided to take three to four months off to focus on my perfume business and do some serious marketing. During that time, I applied to several grants and won one of them.

This year (2022), I decided to delve back into public health, so I joined an organisation in March. But it didn’t quite work out. I didn’t enjoy working there, and even though it paid quite well, the work culture was very different from what I was used to. The environment was beginning to tell on my mental health, so I quit after one month. Now, I’m back to focusing on Kay’s Perfumery full-time. That doesn’t mean I’m done with medicine. I still have a lot of plans for the year.

I have an assistant who helps with inventory, so after the dispatch driver picks up the orders for today, I catch up on the International Health and Women’s Rights course I’m taking. There’s another course on health tech that I’ve abandoned for a million years, but I intend to go back to it.

I didn’t exactly plan my work life to turn out this way, but it couldn’t have been better if I did. I love that I own my hustle and I get to create and execute my ideas. I’m excited to see what more the future holds. Who knows? I could be expanding to skincare soon.

I study till I’m tired. By 7 p.m. on those rare days I feel like stepping out for fresh air, I’ll just check on a friend to see if she’s free. If she is, we’ll have a chill girls’ night out till about 10 or 11 p.m.

Check back every Tuesday by 9 a.m. for more A Week in the Life goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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“A Week in the Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s “A Week in the Life” is the caretaker of a hostel close to a university that houses 45 self-con rooms. He talks about the chaos of his job, managing difficult tenants and his dream to japa one day.

I usually wake up around 6:30 to 7 a.m., but sometimes it can be earlier. My family and I live in one of the rooms in the same building where I work, and I work seven days a week, so I can’t separate work from life.

Tenants usually wake me up for one thing or the other. Sometimes it could be that water finished overnight and a tenant is calling me first thing in the morning because they have to bathe and go to work. So I have to get up, put on the gen and pump water. Or maybe someone’s shower got blocked and I need to call a plumber as soon as possible. There are 45 self-contain rooms in this building, so problem no dey finish. But thank God this morning is problem-free so I can sleep till 8 a.m.

My daughter is at her grandma’s for the holiday, but immediately I rise from the bed, my secondborn — who is just a few months old — starts crying. My wife gets up and carries the baby.

As the hostel manager, my responsibility is to make sure the compound is neat and well-maintained. Since every tenant pays an annual service charge upfront, I also have to make sure they’re comfortable. If there’s a socket that suddenly stopped working, I call an electrician. If someone’s having trouble with their lightbulb or kitchen sink, na me dem dey call.

I spend my days in the compound doing almost the same things 24/7, and it can get boring, but how man go do? Today, I’m happy sha. A former tenant came in the afternoon and we chatted for hours until nightfall. It’s been a long time since I last saw him, so the gist was plenty.

TUESDAY

My job is easy these days, but it wasn’t always like this. When I got employed in this building last year, I saw pepper. In late 2020, I got hired to care for this building. It was a new building that was taking tenants for the first time, and management made a lot of — I don’t even know if I should call them mistakes or just negligence.

The problem is that first of all, they built this hostel as if they were building it abroad: three columns of apartments facing each other, but they now sealed the small corridors in between with a plastic roof. And they didn’t stop there. They wanted to make the building shine-shine, so instead of leaving space for small breeze to be flowing in front of the building, they went and covered everywhere with glass blocks which ran from the ceiling to the ground floor, covering every inch of space. Without any air conditioning system.

While the hostel building looked fancy from the outside, the way they built it wasn’t practical. The self-con rooms are small and have only one window each. But the builders put solar panels and inverter in the building, and that’s what they used to market the rooms. All 45 rooms were taken in two weeks. But small time, problem started coming.

When tenants paid their one-year leases and service charges in December 2020, the harmattan hid the ventilation problem in the building. Also, it was dry season so there was sufficient sunlight to power the solar inverters. Everybody had fun.

Until the heat came in February. NEPA stopped bringing light and the inverters started running down frequently. Hot air was trapped within the building with nowhere to go. Tenants complained, but building management didn’t say anything. After some time, the tenants transferred their vex on me. I tried to explain to them that none of this was my fault, but since I was the only representative of the building management on-site, na me collect all the complaining and insult. It was the most difficult time of my life because I lived in the same building as the tenants and was suffering the same problems. I asked the manager to buy a backup generator for but she ignored me.

Then one day, after NEPA refused to bring light for two days, the inverter went off in the middle of the night, around 2 a.m. Water also finished because there was no light to pump. Nobody could sleep. Almost all the tenants came downstairs to protest. They hurled insults at me and emptied the waste bins at my doorstep. There was nothing I could do except hope and pray that morning would come quickly.

When day finally broke, I called the manager and showed her what was going on in the compound. I was ready to quit at that point. Luckily, she sent money for a backup generator. I don’t know why Nigerian business owners like to wait until everything is falling apart before they act.

In March, the heat became unbearable. The owner of the building sacked the manager and hired somebody more proactive. The new manager finally brought masons to break the huge blocks of decorative glass and installed windows in their place. Finally, we could breathe fresh air again.

WEDNESDAY

Human beings can be funny, but I understand that we can’t all be the same. That’s why I do my best to be patient with people. Before tenants move into the building, they sign an agreement form that contains rules and regulations. But me I don’t know if they don’t read it well. After moving in, you’ll start seeing tenants doing anyhow. and if I didn’t have patience, I’d be fighting everyone every day.

Like this guy that lives on the top floor. There’s a shed outside the gate with two drums dedicated to waste disposal. But this boy came downstairs and scattered his trash all over the place. I asked him why he behaved like that, and he just told me, “No vex,” and ran back upstairs. I’m not even going to let anything steal my peace of mind today. I’ll calm down and clean up the place.

By the time I go back into the compound, I realise I’m not even angry again.

THURSDAY

Even with the occasional madness, I enjoy this work. E no dey stress me at all. But I wish it paid better. I’m raising a family of four, and I’m the breadwinner. I have two daughters: a toddler and a newborn baby and I don’t know how we’re even roughing it. It can only be God.

I usually tell my younger friends to think of settling down, but this thing is hard. The friend that visited me on Tuesday, who has more money than me, said he’s not thinking about getting married until he gets to around 35 because he wants to make money first. And I can’t even blame him because this country is somehow.

Before this caretaker work, I was a porter at a hotel. The salary was chicken change, but I used to get so many tips that I could go months without touching my salary. And my previous oga was so impressed with my work that when my current madam wanted to start renting this building out, he recommended me to be the caretaker.

I no longer get any tips, but at least I’m not worrying about rent. I also have more time to spend with my family, so nothing spoil.

My current madam lives in the US, and she normally says she likes the way I’m taking care of her building. And sometimes, like today, I wonder if she’ll just invite me and my family to japa to the abroad since she’s so impressed. But my wife thinks I’m a joker. Anyway, I’ll keep doing my best and hoping for the best. One day, I’ll see better opportunity that will change my life.

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s “A Week in the Life” studied animal science in university but now plans weddings for a living in South East Nigeria. She explores the challenges of dealing with Nigerians who love to party and why she loves her job so much.

MONDAY

The first thing on my mind when I wake up at 8 a.m. today is that I’ve been doing this wedding planning thing for two years.

It feels like two lifetimes ago when I stumbled upon this line of work by chance — I studied animal science at the University of Maiduguri, so what’s my business with weddings?

My faith led me to event planning. I was in a Christian group back in school, where I organised and planned its events on campus. After youth service, I met a woman in Abuja who was an events decorator and started to help her out. After some time, I grew to love the business, so she took me on as an intern. My experience with planning events in uni made me confident that I’d be good at it professionally, so I also enrolled in an events agency for a training programme and got certified.

When I completed my training, I didn’t get any clients. People didn’t want to take a chance with an unknown, fresh-faced lady. But one day, a relative asked me to plan their big wedding — for free. The thing with family is that they always want to use people for free. I needed to get my brand out there, so I took the job.

In that first gig, I ran into problems. The decorator I hired was supposed to be at the venue on Thursday, but he didn’t show up until Saturday at 3 a.m. He stopped picking up my calls. I couldn’t sleep. The decorator was meant to set up a cabana for the groom and bride, amongst other elaborate things as it was a big-budget wedding — and cabanas take so much time to make. I still don’t know how I managed to pull through, but the wedding turned out successful. Since then, I’ve built my business with sheer determination. If you’re faint-hearted, you can’t succeed in this business. Nigerians like to do anyhow.

And as I wake up today, I’m thanking God. I take some minutes to mentally prepare for my day which will involve a lot of calls with vendors and soon-to-be-wedded couples, then I rise from bed and freshen up.

TUESDAY

The thing that stresses me the most about planning weddings is the unpredictability of it all. I got five proposed weddings in the first quarter of 2022 and only completed three.

People cancel weddings all the time for several reasons. Someone could’ve cheated or is hiding a child somewhere. There was this client who reached out to me and we started planning. Everything was going smoothly, but suddenly, there was a problem with the families. Someone didn’t pay the full settlement of the bride price. They called off the wedding.

Anything can happen at any time, so I’m always prepared. Though I hate when this happens because I don’t receive my full pay if a wedding is called off. I also have to make refunds. And the biggest disappointment of all: since I can only book an event for one wedding at a time, I’ve lost out on other clients.

But when a wedding goes according to plan, it’s beautiful.

WEDNESDAY

I have a wedding billed for this Saturday. Thankfully, this client booked me about five months back [in late 2021]. I love clients like this because they give me enough time to get the best possible venues and vendors. This couple knows what they want and it’s an absolute joy to communicate with her.

I met this client at an event I planned we got talking. She was a guest and loved the decor and the orderliness of the show. She later reached out on Instagram and said she trusted I’d do a great job for her wedding. She’d been dreaming of her wedding forever. She had a mood board and a clear idea of how she wanted the ceremony to be. So I knew I’d enjoy working with her, and we’d become good friends.

I’ve covered all the bases ahead of Saturday. I’ve hired the best decorators and the ambience we’re working on will blow everyone’s mind. All I need to do until Saturday is make calls, send reminders and make sure all bookings and logistics are sorted out. Photographers are one of the most important aspects of weddings. The pictures are going to like last a lifetime. So if you don’t have good photographs, you might end up regretting your big day. But my photographers are tested and trusted, so we’re good to go.

We’ll have a bachelorette party and pre-wedding games the night before the wedding day. We’ll also do a dress rehearsal of sorts. It’s all going to be stressful, but I know I’ll have a lot of fun while at it.

THURSDAY

I’ve been burnt a few times by people. Now, I don’t even let people try rubbish with me. Every time I communicate with a client on phone, I record it on my notes app and send a copy to the client on Whatsapp. I also never let clients arrange logistics [feeding, accommodation] for me. I prefer to do it myself.

There was this client that frustrated me in 2020 ending. I live in Imo State but regularly plan weddings outside the state. This lady’s wedding was going to be in Aba, and she booked hotel accommodation for me. When I arrived at the hotel, it was bad. I called her and she told me that she booked ₦10k rooms for me. But when I went down to the reception and asked for their price list, I found out that my room was the cheapest room at the hotel at ₦5k. I was so mad.

Then, she refused to pay me the full price. I’d charged her ₦250k, but she paid ₦80k upfront and said she’d complete it just before the wedding. The day before the wedding, I asked her about it, and she claimed she was only owing me ₦40k because she’d booked my hotel accommodation. I was furious. Was it ₦120k that would make me travel all the way to Aba to stay in a rubbish room and plan an event that was already stressing me out?

When she saw that being aggressive wasn’t working, she started begging me to quietly accept it so her husband wouldn’t hear. When I noticed that she didn’t want me to involve her husband, I pounced. Me? I was ready to cause wahala o. I even refused to attend the reception ceremony unless she completed my money. I had receipts to show that this woman was trying to defraud me.

The groom later decided to pay me in full. I laugh when I remember the bride shooting me daggers with her eyes. And nowadays, I make sure all my clients sign contracts before we even start working together. Then I ask for 70% upfront and collect the remaining 30% two weeks before the event.

FRIDAY

I used to live in Abuja, then I moved to Port Harcourt after I got married. When I got pregnant with my first child, I and my husband moved to Owerri in late 2019 — just before the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdown. That lockdown made me pause my business for months. I say I’ve done event planning for two years, but that’s because I don’t count 2020. I didn’t do much during the pandemic. So when the country opened up again, I was the happiest person in the world.

I’m grateful for a supportive husband. My job is chaotic, and he calms me. His mum is a caterer so he understands the business. He’s the one who got me my first, second and third paying clients, and I love how he carries my matter on his head.

I’m also grateful for the woman I first interned with when I was starting out. That woman showed me I stood a chance. When I started branching out on my own, she gave me as much support as I needed. She always believed the sky is wide for everyone and never saw me as a competitor. She used to say that my clients are not her clients even though we played in the same market.

As I head to tomorrow’s wedding venue to make final checks, I’m daydreaming of the future. Business is growing steadily; I currently have two coordinators and one intern, and I want to expand. I want to diversify my event coverage bandwidth and go into the events industry at full blast. So help me God.

Check back for new A Week in the Life stories every first Tuesday of the month at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

Ajumoke Nwaeze won Star Quest in 2008 and got into the Nigerian Idol finals in 2011. Then she dropped out of the singing competition. In today’s #AWITL, she reflects on the burden of popularity, writing JAMB six times and her switch from singing to a creative writing career.

MONDAY

When I wake up at 6:30 a.m., I freshen up and prepare for work. I’d prepared my outfit for today last night so I wouldn’t have to do much in the morning. By 7:45 a.m., I leave for my office.

As the head of content at a media company, my Mondays are always predictable: attend meetings, follow up with marketing reports from the previous week and send them to the CEO. But the predictability only lasts until 2 p.m.; then it’s freestyle season.

Today, my one-hour lunch break begins at 2 p.m., after which I spend the next two hours reviewing marketing documents and writing new strategy documents for company projects.

By 4 p.m, I’m out the door. I’m grateful I don’t have to do eye service at my company, so I never hang around longer than I’m needed. I can’t wait for salsa this evening, where I’ll stay until 10 p.m. Thankfully, tomorrow I’ll work from home.

TUESDAY

Because I’m working from home, I don’t have to get up early. Last night, I scheduled my emails so when I woke up today at 11 a.m., I didn’t touch my laptop. Today is for my side hustle. I’m going to spend the next two hours meditating and practising self-care. After that, I’ll focus on my side hustle.

By 2 p.m., I set up my mini sound studio to record a voiceover. During the 2020 lockdown, I learnt sound engineering because I had so much recording to do and got tired of calling my producer to use his studio every time.

While I’m setting up my sound equipment, I start humming popular Nigerian songs, which takes me back to my competing days.

I was living with my family in Port Harcourt waiting to write JAMB for the sixth time when I heard about Star Quest. It was a music talent hunt and reality TV show. I wasn’t interested because I’d previously auditioned for several singing competitions, and I never got past the early stages. But my sister has a great singing voice, and so, on the last day of registration, she asked me to help her register for Star Quest. Those days, you had to go to cyber cafes to use the internet, so I went across town to help submit her application.

While filling out the application form, I was asked to upload a passport photograph, something neither me nor my sister had expected. The cyber cafe was far from our house, so I couldn’t make the return trip. I decided to register myself instead, as I had my passport saved in my email; all I needed to do was download it and upload it to the Star Quest website. My sister didn’t mind when I told her, she was okay with it as long as someone from the family got in.

I did, and became the lead singer of a band with five other male contestants. A few weeks later, we won the show. As part of the prize, we won a recording contract with a top recording label and a six-bedroom apartment in Lagos. I moved to Lagos to start enjoying the good life.

But things didn’t work out so smoothly. Fame affects your life in interesting ways. The very next Saturday, I went to write JAMB for the sixth time. It was the first JAMB exam that I had to write without external help. Previously, I’d make arrangements with people who would give me “expo” before entering the exam hall. This time, I was popular, so I couldn’t move an inch in the hall even though I desperately wanted to cheatt. But it turned out to be the JAMB that finally got me admitted into the University of Calabar, so I wonder why I even cheated all those years.

In uni, I had to keep denying I was the Star Quest Winner. When people pointed at me, I’d say, “It’s not me o. Please, if you see her, let me know.”

Three years later, in 2011, I realised I wasn’t enjoying music much because I got dissatisfied with the musical direction the band was taking. Star Quest was a group competition and I’d won as part of a band. When I heard of Nigerian Idol, I saw it as my way out of the band. If I won, I could kickstart a solo career.

But right from the auditons, I had issues. The judges were sceptical of me because I had already won a major competition. I argued that Star Quest was for music groups while I was auditioning for Nigerian Idol as a solo artist. Luckily, they let me sing. They were so impressed that they granted me a golden ticket, which meant that I wouldn’t have to go through other audition rounds. I’d go straight to the live shows.

The band got angry when they found out that I’d been into the top 12. They asked me to choose between staying in the band or continuing with Nigerian Idol. I promptly pulled out of the band.

A couple of weeks later, I got into the finals, and that’s when it got overwhelming for me. While I had supporters, many people criticised my presence on the show, said I didn’t deserve to be there. The critics said I wasn’t a new face; I’d already won a major competition before, so why the hell was an established person competing with fresh talents? According to them, it wasn’t a fair fight. After witnessing several hate campaigns, I got tired of it all and pulled out.

I’d lost the privileges of being in a band and signed to a label, and I’d dropped out of Nigerian Idol. I was back to being a regular student. I’d been cruising through life for so long it felt like I had to restart my life. I burned through my savings just to keep doing music and couldn’t sustain it. So, one day I decided to just stop. If I was going to survive, I had to explore other talents.

I’m smiling now because I’ve come such a long way. I turn on my mic and begin my voiceover recording.

WEDNESDAY

I wasn’t trying to make money when I started my blog. I just wanted to get my thoughts out there. The next best thing after music was creative writing. I decided to start writing the things I wanted to say.

I used to make so many errors, but I took criticism from friends and kept getting better.

My first big break with writing showed up whenI wrote a story on my blog and used it to apply to UNESCO World Book Capital in 2014. When I got selected for the one-month residency amongst already established writers, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I googled these people and found that I was the least experienced writer on the list.

Before the residency, I used to introduce myself as a singer. But after it, I started introducing myself as a writer. There were four stages of change for me. For a while, I’d introduce myself thus, “Hi, my name is AJ and I’m a singer.” Then I later moved to, “Hi, my name is AJ I’m a singer and I write too.” And then, “Hi, my name is AJ; I write.” And finally, “Hi, my name is AJ, and I am a writer.”

I’ve also always been the go-to person for my friends. When they had ideas or wanted to brainstorm something, I was the one to consult. Over time, I thought, since everybody called me to help them think, I could be the person who gets paid to think for people rather than being used for free.

That’s how I evolved into a content creator. Now, I do this for both individuals and public brands.

THURSDAY

When I woke up today, I was wondering, “What have I not done in this my life?” I’m a singer-songwriter, a scriptwriter, an actress, a sound producer, a writer and an all-round content queen..

I mean, last year (2021), I wrote a song for a movie, and it won a best soundtrack award. I’m nodding my head and telling myself I’m good at this shit as I get out of bed. Tell me what cannot do. This wave of energy has carried me through the script I’ve been working on for the past two weeks. I know I’m going to be done with it today. Once I dot my last i, I cross my legs and admire my work. I still need to edit it, but I love what I’m seeing.

By 6 p.m., I go to the gym and work out for two hours. Even when I get back home for dinner, I’m still brimming with energy that I’ll carry throughout the weekend.

FRIDAY

My peers still yab me for not sticking with music, but I don’t regret it. I’ve never regretted dropping out of Nigerian Idol or switching my focus to content creation. On one hand, I could have stuck to music and blown into superstardom by now. But what if I didn’t? I could just have gotten frustrated with everything, become depressed and turned to drugs. Who knows?

I’m glad that I recognised other skills and pivoted quickly when music was not working out. I firmly believe if something isn’t working, I can stretch my arms and try something new. I’m not going to kill myself on top of one thing. I’m grateful I’ve nurtured all these other skills and still get to explore my creativity.

When I was in my 20s, fame was my primary goal. But now, I no longer care about it. But I still love singing sha. When I close from work today, I’m going to a karaoke bar with my girls who’ll give me an audience and hype me up. I’m going to settle down and enjoy myself this weekend because weekends don’t last. Thank God it’s Friday.

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I want to be featured!
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s “A Week in the Life”, is a bookstagrammer — an Instagram creator who posts artfully staged book content and is a part of the bookish community. 23-year-old Uchenna Nnabuguwu tells us about reading 100 books a year, finding a community of book lovers on Instagram and how he makes money from sharing his love for books on #bookstagram.

MONDAY

When I wake up at 7 a.m. I want to continue the book I’m currently reading — Jenniffer Nansubuga’s The First Woman. But first I have to prepare food for my dad who doesn’t know how to cook. We live in Abuja but my mom works at the federal university in faraway Ebonyi State.

I try to do all my house chores before noon so I’ll have the rest of my day to do bookish stuff. While working around the house, I listen to an audiobook. When I have more time later, I’ll continue reading from the paperback.

When I finish my chores at around 12 p.m., I settle down and start to plan my Instagram content for the week. My plan isn’t rigid — sometimes I find that I’m too excited for a particular book so I end up posting before I’m supposed to, like today. The book I’m reading — The First Woman — is a book like no other: it explores power and gender roles and how feminism has been in Africa long before Westerners gave it a name.

Makumbi’s writing is rich with culture and I simply have no words (I will when I write a full review later). But I can’t wait until I finish, so I take a quick photo of the book, post it on my Insta Story and continue reading until evening, only stopping to make lunch and attend to my father.

It’s when it grows too dark that I know that night has fallen. There’s no light at home, and there hasn’t been for some time now. This country can’t even let someone read.

Before I sleep, I book an Airbnb for tomorrow so I can take photos and record videos for my Instagram Reels for the week. It costs ₦29,000, but that’s the price to pay for quality content.

TUESDAY

I read a lot of books — in 2021, I read 102 books, and this year, I’ve already read 35 books in March, so I’m well on my way to crush my reading goals this year. When I first found the #bookstagram community on Instagram, in 2019, I knew I’d finally found my home on the internet.

When I was growing up, I used my pocket-money to buy books. I used my pocket money to buy those ₦50 story pamphlets until I could afford costlier books in junior secondary schools. I read Harlequin books until my mom caught me and flogged me because of the photo on the back cover. Since then, I started tearing off the covers of my books.

I started posting about books on Instagram in 2019 but it took me a year to make money from sharing my love for books on Instagram. In 2020, I was broke and started looking for work. I sought work at a gas filling station for ₦15k per month, but after discussing with the manager, I knew that it wasn’t the type of work for me. One of the attendants even told me that someone like me should be working at a bookstore at least.

Jungle fit dry, but lion no go chop grass. So when I got back home, I resolved to double down and improve the quality of my content. Before, I used to post content for the fun of it, but from then on, I became deliberate about everything I put out. After all, it would be nice to earn money from my passion.

A few months later, an author reached out to me to promote her book. I was to review the book, create an Instagram Reel showcasing the book and have a discussion with her on Instagram Live about queer representation in African literature. She paid ₦15k for it. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a start.

The next time someone reached out to me, weeks later, it was on behalf of a publishing house.

WEDNESDAY

By around 11:30 a.m., I’m rounding off my chores and thinking of the book that I received this morning. I started reading it and knew there was no way I would continue. I know I like to read o, but please.

Although I like earning money from reading books, there are some books I’ll never feature on my IG. As an experienced reader, I can tell if a book will be worth my time just from reading the blurb alone. There are some books you start reading and you know that the author just said, “I can write, so let me just write a book,” or that their friends hyped them to write a book because they posted something that they wrote in their notes app. I would never recommend such books to my bookstagram community.

But when I find a book that gets me from the first word, it’s rewarding because imagine being paid to enjoy yourself!

That’s why I put so much effort into my work. I spend my money to rent picturesque locations — there’s even one time I went into the bush to create content for a book cover because I thought it’d make a nice concept. The only thing that really makes me angry is cost of data and how fast my subscription finishes because these days it’s as if MTN is following me to use my data.

But the hardest part about my work is not even creating the content; it’s getting access to quality books — the prices right now are mad. A new book is released and everybody is hyping it. But by the time it gets to Nigeria, you’re hearing ₦8k per copy.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I used to receive books from international publishers but now, it’s almost impossible. The rare chance that a publisher sends books over here, I’ll start hearing stories that the books got missing in the mail. Right now, I’m counting five books that were sent to me but I didn’t receive them.

Anyway, I want to finish reading The First Woman before evening so that I can post a photo of it and write a review.

I make sure to finish cooking, cleaning and doing market runs so that when I’m done, nobody will send me message again today. When I come back from the market, I take my bath, relax and dive right into The First Woman.

THURSDAY

The thing that’s on my mind this morning is that I’m not happy.

I tell myself not to be ungrateful because I’ve made friends from the community and I really enjoy being a content creator. I’ve also hacked consistency because I manage to post at least 25 times a month. No matter what, I show up every day.

But it feels like my life is not moving forward. I’m yet to gain admission into the university and I’ve been trying to get admission. I applied to study medicine as far back as 2016, but I didn’t get admission. Then I tried medical lab science because I didn’t want to do microbiology; I still didn’t get in. It’s now as if I’m an olodo.

But now I’m thinking maybe I should rewrite WAEC and shift my focus to mass communication as I already have social media management and creator experience. But I don’t even know if I’m cut out for it.

Anyway, by the time I finish my chores, I’m no longer feeling down. I’m good at what I do and I see myself getting better every day. One day, I’ll work with global publishing brands and get exciting life-changing opportunities.

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

Yes, I’d like to be featured
African writers are awesome in many things: they write the most thoughtful prose; they’re also great at building remarkable worlds and making us fall in love with their characters, etc.

But there’s one area where they fail so badly at: writing sex scenes in their stories. It’s either they shy away from writing sex scenes or they write them as badly as their Nollywood counterparts.

A couple examples of epic fails: Ben Okri wrote a rocket-sex scene that won him a Literary Review Bad Sex in Fiction Award in his 2014 novel, The Age of Magic; over six decades ago, in 1954, Mongo Beti wrote the longest and most ridiculous sex Scene in an African novel.

But while you’ve probably been exposed to bad sex writing by African writers, there’re actually some pretty hot sex scenes in African stories, rare as they might be. My list includes scenes from short stories, anthologies and full-length novels.

1. “Indulgence” by Joyce Nawiri, from Erotic Africa: The Sex Anthology

He slowly caressed my thighs and his hand journeyed upwards till his fingers found a resting place for their magic. For three years I had been married, but my husband would not recognize my pussy in a lineup. His dick was the only contact he made with my body, and that wasn’t very often.

Father Silas slid two fingers inside of me and, after a few seconds, I began to grind against them and even found myself spreading my thighs further apart for him. My hips found the luxury of balance in his hands. Although I quivered and moaned, he didn’t break rhythm. He knew the exact rubbing pressure to exert against my clitoris; a little fast but not too much to prevent me from climaxing.
“Put me on the bench,” I pleaded, and he did, only not the way I intended. He made me kneel on the bench with my feet hanging off in such a way that my buttocks stuck out to his groin. Holding my skirt up to my waist, I heard his belt unbuckle. I bent lower, yearning for him to quench the thirst he had awakened. As he pinned himself closer, I felt his cock nudging at my entrance. I exhaled and my body opened to receive him. At first, he was slow but once fully inside, his thrusts were so powerfully vicious that I froze almost immediately at its strength. As I relaxed, he began to plough me, faster and deeper. I could feel every hardened bit of him as he continued to wreck me, surprising me with the flexibility of his waist. Our moans and groans filled the chapel.
With each thrust, I could feel his power. Sweat dripped off us. My vagina flooded. This man was working me the way a blacksmith handled hot iron. Suddenly he whispered, “Our acts scream hell.”
“But what we are making here is heaven.”

The tabooest sex in the history of taboos. Phew!

RECOMMENDED: Sex Life: I Was No Longer Scared of Being Sexual in God’s Presence

2. When We Speak of Nothing by Olumide Popoola

The hands went everywhere. The lips, the mouth. Their clothes piled around them. Their naked skin touched the cement. It helped. It helped cool the heat that rose from the skin. It was strange to have his body all exposed. To show everything. Stranger even to have hers like that, close up. She was so soft it tickled him each time her skin touched his body. Especially when her hands travelled down his arms or up his legs, worst at the back, up the spine. The hairs stood, but it felt good.
Her hand took his and guided it until he was inside her. Moved it, so that he could feel what felt best to her.
Janoma opened, leaning her back against the wall of the shack and reached with her hand between Karl’s legs. Karl knelt, his hand deeper, his face between her thighs now until her stickiness spread past his lips, all over his chin, and she moaned, trying to hide the sounds from the outside world. The heat seemed trapped inside their bodies, spreading and trying to push out. Pushed and pushed until her legs clamped his face and she moved her head. Opened her eyes to look at him. He was panting. When he leaned back her hand slid out between his legs.

After Karl visits Nigeria and falls in love with Janoma, the two young lovers have a hideaway to have sex for the first time, after their previous attempt was interrupted. The scene works so well because it’s not trying too hard or taking itself too seriously. It’s honest and short and awkward, but it’s satisfying.

3. The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta

He found himself rolling towards her, giving her nipples gentle lover’s bites, letting his tongue glide down the hollow in the center of her breasts and then back again. He caressed her thigh with his good hand, moving to her small night lappa and fingering her coral waist-beads. Ona gasped and opened her eyes. She wanted to scream. But Agbadi was faster, more experienced. He slid on his belly, like a big black snake, and covered her mouth with his. He di not let her mouth free for a long time. She struggled fiercely like a trapped animal, but Agbadi was becoming himself again. He was still weak, but not weak enough to ignore his desire. He worked on her, breaking down all her resistance. He stroked and explored with his perfect hand, banking heavily on the fact that Ona was a woman, a mature woman, who had had him many a time. And he was right. Her struggling and kicking lessened. She stared to moan and groan instead, like a woman in labor. He kept on, and would not let go, so masterfully was he in this art. He knew he had reduced her to longing and craving for him. He knew he had won. He wanted her completely humiliated in her burning desire. And Ona knew. So she tried to counteract her feelings in the only way she guessed would not give her away.
“I know you are too ill to take me,” she murmured.
“No, my Ona, I am waiting for you to be ready.”
She felt like screaming to let free the burning of her body. How could one’s body betray one so! She should have got up and run out, but something was holding her there; she did not know what and she did not care. She wanted to be relieved of the fire inside her. “Please, I am in pain.”
She melted and could say no more. She wept and the sobs she was trying to suppress shook her whole being. He felt it, chuckled, and remarked thickly, “Please, Ona, don’t wake the whole household.”
Either she did not hear, or he wanted her to do just that, for he gave her two painful bites in between her breasts, and she in desperation clawed at him, and was grateful when at last she felt him inside her.
He came deceptively gently, and so unprepared was she for the passionate thrust which followed that she screamed, so piercingly that she was even surprised at her own voice: “Agbadi, you are splitting me in two!’
Suddenly the whole compound seemed to be filled with moving people. A voice, a male voice, which later she recognized to be that of Agbadi’s friend Obi Idayi, shouted from the corner of the courtyard: “Agbadi! Agbadi! Are you alright?”
Again came the law laughter Ona loved and yet loathed so much. “I am fine, my friend. You go to sleep. I am only giving my woman her pleasures.”

Emecheta weaved in sexual tension and even elicited a couple of laughs in such a sad story. And the build-up of anticipation? Oh boy!

4. “Solutions” by Howard Maximus, from The Vanguard Book of Love Stories

THE FIRST TIME Papa V. asked Lucy to spend the night, she shaved and brought coconut oil for massage. In Vanessa’s bedroom—for he couldn’t take Lucy to his matrimonial bed just yet—, they kissed and fondled each other for several minutes, she telling him how good he looked for a man his age, his body toned and his belly flat enough, and he pecking and necking and smacking and moaning, massaging and then more kissing, but when she was ready to receive him, Papa V. did not rise….

The day it finally happened, Papa V. came to his room to find Lucy dressed in his late wife’s clothes. She wore the same woody perfume his late wife wore. She would later tell him how Vanessa had come up with this when she had gone to their university to visit and that had come up.
“You bring up our sex life with my kids?” he’d ask, and she would tell him how desperate she was to make it work. Now, they were lying close to each other, overwhelmed by the fact that they had finally done it, when Papa started to apologize.

In the coming days, he would try all the things she wanted to try. On one night, she would be the queen and he would be the slave, going down on his knees, following her around the room; on another, she would be a celebrity and he would be a fan, and on another, she would be a naughty doctor and he would be a patient; but always, it ended in disappointing sighs, Papa V. rising a little, and then falling like a limp-stalked plant.

The lovers finally have sex after several attempts. I love that Maximus spotlights an unlikely couple, shows sex can be awkward and people don’t always get it right the first time.

RECOMMENDED: Sex Life: Sleeping With Older Men Changed My Life

5. “Lost Stars” from A Broken People’s Playlist by Chiemeka Garricks

When I returned on Thursday, I went to your flat at Stadium Road. Famished, we didn’t make it to your bedroom. We tore at each other’s clothes, but gave up mid-way and merged, half-dressed on your living-room wall. As your face headed down between my legs, as always, we paused for a moment and chuckled, because we remembered – the first time you ate me, my first time ever, I farted uncontrollably through a long orgasm, and you rolled off and laughed till I joined in. Thursday was kisses, bites, sweat, thrusts and screams – a frenzied mauling because there was no tomorrow. Liquid electric, it coursed through every cell, jolted my body alive, but felt good for my spirit like a homecoming. Eventually, we collapsed to the floor beside your door. After, we stumbled to your room where we drank wine, cuddled, and ribbed each other. Then we did it again, slower, bodies rhyming gently, because of scarred souls. Then we napped (different sides of the bed because I disliked being cuddled when I slept), woke, and talked. It was when you touched my head that I realised my wig had fallen off.

Writers often get it wrong with using metaphors for sex. But the unexpectedness of this scene in the story and the awkwardness right after the sex made it feel… authentic.

A Bouquet of Dilemma by Tayo Emmanuel

He is singing into my ears now. It’s Boyz 2 Men’s I’ll make love to you. That’s the only thing he needs to do to keep me going. My breathing becomes heavier as I remove his shirt and my clothes. He goes on kissing me and humming at the same time. My hands and mouth are all over him with sheer hungry passion, caressing, kissing, fondling. I feel his erection, yet he is not hurrying me, in fact he is trying to slow me down, but I am past that point of no return. I am afraid if I stop now, I will never get around it with him and I want him so bad. My whole body is taut and tingling and sultry; how do you ever find the right words at this moment? I am on the bed, naked and ready; he manages to extract and wear a condom before lying down next to me. He is still humming, more quietly, when I feel him inside me. Gently at first, then getting bigger and pushing deeper. Must pain and pleasure always go together, I wonder. It’s a sticky burning sensation, it’s consuming, it’s liberating; I’m crying and shouting his name and he is shouting mine too and it seems like I am about to faint, but I don’t. I feel some more stickiness, then silence. “I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you too.”

Is it a little cheesy and matter-of-fact? But it’s urgent and provocative; it gets the people going.

ALSO READ: 8 Books by Nigerian Women Everyone Should Read in Women’s History Month
A Week in the Life is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.

The subject of today’s “A Week in the Life” is a Nollywood screenwriter who got his first major screenwriting gig on the same day he quit his old job. We explore how he juggles multiple writing projects to make ends meet and why Nigerians need to calm down when criticising Nollywood.

MONDAY

One thing about this career is that it’s hard for me to rest. I worked all through last week and all weekend. So even though I told myself I’d use today to rest, I’m somehow in front of my laptop, working.

When I woke up this morning, I decided to sit in bed and open my laptop to watch films. It was all going fine and well when my brain started having thoughts. Next thing I knew, I’d written a pitch for a TV show.

This same thing that stresses me is also what’s cool about my job because my work also happens to be my passion. I live for creating ideas for films, series or skits. As long as it needs a script, you’ll find me there.

After that burst of energy, I freshen up, settle down and begin writing a breakdown of the show. Breakdowns are basically a scene-by-scene outline of everything that’ll happen in an episode of a show. Most of the work I get is on a contractual basis, so after developing a story and writing a pitch, I have to shoot my shot at producers. Then, I have to draft these scenes before sending them to other screenwriters to flesh them out.

When I write a new story, I like to draft an outline and write out every idea that comes to mind. Then I piece them together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. I grab cups of green tea while listening to my playlist that helps me get in my zone. Once I get into that zone, I’m laser-focused. I can only rest after I’ve completed the first draft.

I spend the rest of the day reviewing my breakdowns and editing them. I also edit scripts written by other writers, only stopping to eat lunch and stretch my muscles. By midnight, I’m exhausted. I manage to make it to my bed and sleep off.

TUESDAY

As a writer, life in Nollywood is stressful because I have to take on a lot of work simultaneously. I can be writing a TV show while writing movies on the side. So I have to compartmentalise my brain because I’m dealing with multiple stories and multiple characters simultaneously, making sure they don’t spill into each other. When I have a job that consumes a lot of my time, then I can take one other job, and even a third. But for shorter gigs, I joggle even more projects at once.

When I started my career, I struggled with doing multiple things. The ideal, productive way to work is to do one thing at a time. But handling multiple projects is like a muscle; when you work a muscle enough, you can do more things. Now, I’m used to the life. Even when I’m working on commissioned gigs, I’m also working on personal projects — I’m currently working on four projects in different genres.

I don’t like to limit myself because I like making different things. I study genres and sub-genres, so when I’m thrown into a situation, I want to be able to tap into something I know about a different genre or different style of writing.

When I was younger, I worked seven days a week, but as I got more settled in my career, I learnt to use my time more efficiently. I’m very close to 30 now, and so these days, I give myself at least one day of rest in a week. After the unplanned ginger of yesterday, I’ll give myself today to relax and chill.

But I never stop thinking about work.

WEDNESDAY

Every part of this job is stressful, but what stresses me out the most is the lack of job security.

Experts always advise young people to not quit their day job for their passions, but in 2016, that’s exactly what I did. Lucky me, I got my first screenwriting gig on the same day I quit a job that was paying me ₦44k per month. I’d been writing scripts for two years prior and sharing with people, but I never did it for money. When I decided to switch to full-time screenwriting, my first gig more than tripled my monthly earnings.

My first year on the job was smooth. I wrote a tonne of episodes, and people said good things about the show. I started carrying shoulder thinking I was the shit.

But in 2017? Crazy things were happening.

As a screenwriter in Nigeria, one always you have to think about is the next thing you’re going to do. There’s no time to rest on laurels or relax because once a show ends, you have to go find another job.

I used to believe that my work will always speak for me. Since I was good enough, I didn’t need to go around hawking my craft. I believed that the universe would always bring stuff to my doorstep.

Now that I’m much older and more experienced, I know I can’t just believe that things will always come to me just because I’m very good at what I do. People have to know that I am, and the only way for them to know is for me to go and show them.

For the first half of 2017, I got barely-paying offers. I also had health issues, so all the money I’d made the previous year was running out at breakneck speed. I had to start deliberately putting myself out there and selling my market shamelessly. I started going to writers’ workshops and events and demonstrating my ability.

Later in the year, someone who I’d connected with at one of these events recommended me for a gig with a producer I’d never worked with. Then I received a call and went to show how good at my stuff I am. Later on, I got signed to write for a major TV show that gave me the break I desperately needed and the job security that I didn’t have at the beginning of that year.

By 10 p.m., I get up from my desk, take one last cup of tea to get ready for bed.

THURSDAY

Today, I’m very frustrated because there’s been no light since Monday, and this fuel scarcity is becoming a real needle in my ass. I live in an area of Lagos serviced by Ikeja Electrical Premium, so I pay a higher tariff. For the past two years, I’ve enjoyed a decent power supply — 20 hours’ light minimum. I set up unlimited home internet so I can work comfortably from home and get into my “zone”. I don’t like going out or doing that thing where writers go to a coffee shop and type away because I don’t like noise around me when I’m working.

But since there’s no light, I have to go out. The coffee shop I go to is so distracting I can barely gather my thoughts. So I look away from my laptop and assess the other diners. The trio of friends closest to me is talking about a big-budget film that just flopped. I open Twitter to check if I can get the gist.

The news jumps out at me. People are PISSED. The whole of Nigerian social media is full of insults and banter. As a professional in Nollywood, this kind of criticism gets to me even if I’m not directly involved, so I zone out.

Thing is, even though the comments trigger me, I understand the discontent. When you eat at a restaurant and the service is poor, you have the right to come online and write a review. If you spend your money on something you don’t like, it’s annoying. But I wish people would understand we’re also human and though we’re doing our best, sometimes things go wrong.

The film industry is a money-driven artform, and Nollywood is still very small. The way movies typically make money is via cinemas, but Nigerians don’t even have a cinema culture. We’re a TV series nation that was raised on family TV shows and home videos.

Most Nigerians started going to cinemas in just the last decade, and it’s still a luxury over here because we live in a third-world country. How can we compare ourselves with the Hollywood and Bollywood cultures where the last two to three generations have always gone to cinemas to spend money?

How many Nigerians can afford to spend money on transport, movie tickets, popcorn, and go watch a movie every weekend? It becomes a risk on the part of the audience when they do decide to spend some thousands of naira to watch a film. It’s also a risk for filmmakers because the studios want to recoup as many profits as they can, which is why they invest in movie formulas that have been proven to work overtime.

Nollywood is still a young industry. But things are slowly changing, especially with streaming services, so filmmakers no longer have to rely solely on the box office. Streaming reaches more audiences without relying on movie ticket sales.

FRIDAY

IKEDC finally brought light today, thank God.

I was having a very productive workday when someone ruined it. I received a call in the afternoon that made me lose my shit.

There are two types of clients that frustrate me. On one hand are the clients who have no idea of what they really want. They’re so opinionated and never listen to me, the professional that they hired. Which is funny because how can you be so stubborn when you don’t even know the direction you want to take? And then there’s the second set of people — oh my God, these ones make me want to stick a fork in my eyes. They always want to pay peanuts for solid work.

The person who called me this afternoon belongs to this latter category.

He’d reached out to me last year to handle a scriptwriting project for him. And the amount he was offering for all the work required meant he was demanding slave labour. I refused it.

Today, he called and told me that he’d hired writers and they’d started the project, but they didn’t like what they were doing, and so they were starting again. But he still wanted me to collect small money. I’m laughing now sha, but at least he’s better than the producer who blocked me after I gave him my rates.

That one was trying to use the fact that we’re both Igbo to get me to collect chicken change. Are we in Onitsha market? Who is your brother please? Anyway, I took a breath and told him that if he couldn’t afford to pay me, I could ask other people, but I wasn’t going to accept that offer. He hung up and blocked me.

I see terrible things in this industry.

SATURDAY

If I wasn’t writing so many episodes, I would probably be behind the director on set, providing clarity on small details that make huge differences in the shows or adjusting the script to help writers deliver their lines better. But I can’t because I’m currently writing for a show with 260 episodes a year and simply don’t have the time. When I wake up this morning, I make a cup of green tea and jump right into work.

By the time I finish my second draft, it’s 5 p.m. already. I take a break and walk around my neighbourhood.

I’m grateful for the career I’d had so far working at my dream job. Look at me, working on a major network TV show and I’m not even 30 yet. But I still have fears: I’m so good at what I do, and I never want to be complacent. A shark has to keep moving because if it stops moving, it dies.

I would literally die if I stopped giving my all. That’s why I’m now trying new things. I’m now trying my hands at feature films.

I don’t know what’s ahead of me until I get there. And even if I can’t see the full vision for my career yet, let me sha be moving forward.

Hi, I’m Ama Udofa and I write the A Week in the Life series every Tuesday at 9 a.m. If you’d like to be featured on the series, or you know anyone interesting who fits the profile, fill out this form.

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Occupation and location

Average monthly income

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

How did you meet your boyfriend?

How were your finances then?

Ahn ahn. Campus couple

So you don’t live in the same city

How did you guys run the relationship sturvs?

Lying to go and see man

Tell me about the last time you saw him

How much does your boyfriend make in a month, on average?

What kind of conversations do you have with your boyfriend about money?

How much do you save on average, per month?

Have your spending habits ever caused problems?

How do you guys resolve such conflicts?

Do you have a financial safety net?

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

Occupation and location

Average monthly income

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

How did you meet your husband?

How did you reconnect?

Hollup. Tell me about the breakup

Ah—

That must have hurt. How come you kept praying for him?

Just like that? Did he tell you why he ghosted?

A finished man

How much does he earn?

So how do y’all run the finances?

How much do you budget for romanzz?

What changed?

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

Rough. Is it rescuable?

Amin. Tell me about the personal development you invest in

Has the income gap between you two ever been an issue?

Ahn ahn. Intentional man

What’s your ideal financial future as a couple?

Wait—

Oh wow

Occupation and location

Average monthly income

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

You say?

Why so few expenses?

What do you spend the money on?

How did you meet your partner?

Just like that?

Energy. Okay, how were your finances then?

How did you guys manage?

On a ₦50k salary?

Sweet. So how did your relationship survive the pandemic?

Hollup—

How did they take it?

So you taught them polyamory or…?

How’s that going?

30+ alert

Aww. Walk me through expenses on a typical staycation

About splurging, what’s your spending habit like?

Has this ever caused conflicts?

Do you have a financial safety net?

Can you shed more light?

So why do you?

What’s your ideal future for you and your partner(s)?

Average monthly income

Occupation and location

Monthly bills and recurring expenses

How did you meet your wife?

Slow down a bit