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22-year-old Layi Wasabi, born Olayiwola Isaac, is one of Nigeria’s most popular digital content creators. On the night of May 11, 2024, he won an Africa Magic Viewers Choice Award (AMVCA), the annual show that awards excellence in African cinema and television.
Since he went viral in 2021 for his skits on social media, Layi Wasabi has come to take a seat at the mainstream table. This is a timeline of his journey.
2021: Layi Wasabi started creating content
In December 2021, Layi was a law undergraduate at Bowen University when his comedy video about blocking your mum from viewing your WhatsApp status went viral, thanks to Instagram bloggers like YabaLeftOnline and Tunde Ednut. Since then, he has launched popular video characters like Professor, The Law, Officer Robert and Life Coach.
2022: Brand partnerships and cashing out
Throughout the year, he made viral videos with his comedy characters. He was also featured in various paid campaigns with big brands like Chicken Republic, Flutterwave, Laughing Out Loud Naija, Ladipoe, and Trophy Lager beer.
June 2023: Management deal
On June 23, 2023, Layi Wasabi went from handling his content creation business to being signed to Penzaaraville Africa, a talent management company known for working with brands like Bolt, Red Bull and Wema Bank
July 2023: Layi at Trendupp Awards
Layi won the Emerging Force award at the 2023 Trendupp Awards, an award ceremony for Nigeria’s digital content creators.
September 2023: Revelation of the Year
Layi caught the attention of the Wale Adenuga Production’s Nigerian Comedy Awards and won their Revelation of the Year award. The same month, he was nominated for The Future Awards Africa’s Content Creation prize.
February 2024: “Anikulapo” announcement
On February 1, 2024, Layi Wasabi announced on his page that he would star in the TV series spin-off of Kunle Afolayan’s hit movie, “Anikulapo”.
March 2024: Meta’s Creators of Tomorrow and AMVCA nomination
On March 14, Layi was among the five Nigerian content creators selected by the Instagram and Meta communities. 11 days later, Layi was nominated for Best Digital Content Creator at the 2024 African Magic Viewers Choice Awards (AMVCA).
May 2024: Layi won an AMVCA
The Africa Magic Viewers Choice Award (AMVCA) is among the biggest African film awards. In its 10th edition, Layi Wasabi won the Best Digital Content Creator award.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
Five-year-old me thought money used to multiply. Some context: When I was in kindergarten, I noticed people would walk up to my class teacher with one ₦50 note, and she’d give them two sachets of water and two ₦20 notes as change. In my head, I concluded one single money could give you “two money.”
LOL. Didn’t we all?
I decided to multiply my own money too. So, I took ₦50 from my mum’s purse and used it to buy water from my teacher. When she gave me the “two money”, I proudly took it home to show my mum. She was like, “So, you’ve started stealing at this age?” Good times.
Now that you mention your parents, what did they do for money?
My dad is a lecturer, and my mum has a small business.
Before secondary school, I thought we had money. Maybe it’s because I didn’t pay attention to the finances, and I had mostly all I needed. But I was definitely shocked when I started asking for money in secondary school, and my parents would always respond with, “There’s no money.”
That’s when I started realising the small things like how we never had a family outing. Even on the odd occasion when my mum bought outside food, she’d buy just two plates, and the five of us would have to manage it.
What did this realisation change?
It led to my “I need to make money” phase at 15 years old. I was in SS 3 in boarding school when I started painting my schoolmates’ nails, charging between ₦50 and ₦100. It was illegal, but I’d walk around the hostel with my nail file and nail polish, announcing, “Do your nails!” It was my trademark.
I used to make an average of ₦300 daily and lived large. I spent all my money at the tuck shop.
Did you continue after secondary school?
I wanted to, but my dad thought starting a side business would affect my studies. So, I dropped it.
I started uni in January 2020, but had to return home after a couple of weeks due to a combination of the COVID pandemic and an ASUU strike. In June, I decided to learn a skill, so I picked make-up. My mum paid ₦200k for the three-month training and the make-up box I needed. But I only practised on a few people before abandoning it.
Why?
I felt I couldn’t make people look pretty. Luckily, school resumed in 2021, and I went back to focusing on my studies.
Did you try any other thing for money?
I went to classes from home (I still do), and my dad wanted me to focus, so I couldn’t do any business.
I don’t have an allowance because he gives me transport money to school every day. The man doesn’t even know I have a bank account.
But I was on social media a lot. In 2022, I decided to give content creation a try. I thought it might be fun, and I’d also heard that creators make a lot of money.
How did that go?
I wanted to create content relatable to people like me who weren’t rich kids, so I challenged myself to live on ₦1k daily and share my results. People definitely found it relatable because my accounts grew quite quickly, and I started making money from it in 2023.
How do you make money as a content creator?
Mainly through influencing gigs. Brands reach out for custom content, and others send free gifts so I can talk about them on my channels. My first client reached out to me in January and paid ₦20k for three videos. I was ecstatic. I’d initially charged ₦25k, but I didn’t even mind. It was the motivation I needed to take creating content seriously.
The only downside is, the money is not constant, and brands sometimes owe me too. There was this brand I worked with for three months. In that time, I made 16 videos for them, and my total pay was ₦300k. They paid 40% before the campaign started, and were supposed to pay a percentage every month. But they paid another 20% in the third month, and 40% months after the campaign ended. I’ve worked with them a couple of times, and they always pay late.
Is this your regular experience with brands?
Thankfully, it’s not regular. I guess I’ve been pretty lucky. The wildest influencing gig I’ve ever gotten was from someone who paid me ₦100k just to play their song in the background of one of my videos. It was easy money.
What’s your monthly income from influencing like?
On average, ₦50k per month. Some months are better than others, though. The ₦100k gig was just last month.
What about your expenses?
Pretty moderate. I still try to live on ₦1k daily because of my content, but the way the economy is going these days means I often overshoot my budget. But I still live at home, so food and transportation to school are taken care of.
But I should confess. This moderate lifestyle is just a few months old. When I first started making money online in January, I went on a spending spree for months.
What were you spending on?
Everything I was interested in at the moment. You know how you start getting strange ideas when you have money you don’t need? That was how it was for me.
First, I decided I wanted to get into those coffee girl aesthetics. So I bought an icemaker for ₦90k and a coffee maker for ₦25k. I’ve not used them for even one day; the icemaker is still inside the carton.
Another time, I became obsessed with BookTok — the readers section of TikTok — and thought reading books would help me escape the reality of living at home. I started with fantasy and dystopian books. When I grew tired of those because the plots started to look the same, I moved to deeper self-help books. I quickly got tired of reading those as well, but I just kept buying them, telling myself I’d read them one day.
The last bulk purchase I made was in June — I bought nine books which cost almost ₦100k, plus delivery. From January to June, I spent ₦400k on over 60 books. Most of them are unread and are just sitting on my shelf. I console myself with the fact that I can still sell them someday.
Now, I’ve moved past all that and just save my money.
Do you have a savings goal?
I’m saving to get my own place. My family home is nice, but it gets tiring. Since July, I’ve tried to save 80% of every amount I get from influencing. It’s currently around ₦300k. But I’m still debating whether to stick it out till I graduate and invest my savings in a piece of land instead, so I can resell it for a profit later.
The remaining 20% of my income is the vex money I use for the odd outing, or when I need data to create content.
Can you break down your typical expenses in a month?
Data – ₦15,000
Eating out – ₦30,000
Miscellaneous – ₦10,000
I don’t spend a lot, even when creating content. I just use my phone and a tiny influencer light I bought for ₦10k on AliExpress.
Do you plan to continue creating content after uni?
Yes. It’s my backup career plan. There’s money in content creation o. I know people who don’t have a degree but make millions from it.
Plus, I did a two-month unpaid internship as part of school requirements in April, and I realised there’s no money in the course I’m studying at school. But I’m still studying hard to graduate with good grades so I can have both my degree and content creation. Then, I can stick to whatever pays more.
How would you describe your relationship with money?
I feel like I’ve been playing since, but I’m now focused on making my money work for me. I save better, and I’m deliberate about spending and managing my money. I’m active on social media, and I’m familiar with the urge to live a fake life, but I make do with what I have.
You guys recently did a video where you asked people how long it’d take them to spend ₦500k. It’d probably take me two years with how deliberate I am now.
My mindset now is, I need to make money for my future, and no one will make it for me.
How much money qualifies as “good money” to you?
I honestly can’t pick a specific figure. More money will come with more responsibilities, so I don’t think there’s a point where I’ll be satisfied. It’s always on to the next thing.
Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?
Definitely land. It’s part of my savings goals, but I want to get land in an already developed area to get better returns on investment. I’d need ₦3m – ₦4m for that.
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?
10. I’m not spending my money on nonsense anymore. I know where I am now, and where I want to get to. I’ve also learned to limit impulse decisions and not do more than myself.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
Creator Spotlight is a weekly series celebrating young Nigerians in the creative industry doing unique things. Everyone has a story, and Zikoko wants to tell it.
Hi. I’m Hamda.
I’m 25, IJN. COVID stole two years of my life, so that may or may not be my actual age. I’m very crafty and hands-on. If I were a cartoon character, I’d be Bob the Builder. I illustrate, create videos, write and make outfits. I just like making shit. I think the content I create is vibes. I play a lot. I don’t take life too seriously, and I think it translates into my content. It gives off “joy”.
You have the prettiest name. Is there a story there?
This name thing! I was named after my paternal grandmother. She’s late now, and I genuinely liked her. She was so full of life. The kind of grandma who went to parties every weekend. My government name is Oladoyin Hamdallah Odukoya. I started using Hamdallah in uni because I’ve always liked my middle name, but Nigerians always mispronounce and misspell it, so I shortened it to Hamda.
Oh, I can definitely relate to that. When did you officially begin your content creator journey?
In 2021. For me it was two things: I wanted to go out more, and I wanted to document my journey. I’d heard people say I would do well as a creator because of my personality. Plus, I used to work in an agency, and the influencers’ rate cards used to wow me. I couldn’t wrap my head around how posting one video got them one million naira. So, I sat down one day and just decided I’m going to be a creator.
You’re so real for that. Do you remember your first project?
My first collaboration project was for a hair brand. They shared a promo package with me, and I’ll always remember it fondly because I felt recognised. I did an unboxing video instead of a ‘get ready with me’ and found an engaging way to tell the story.
Does what you do tie in with what you studied in school?
Nope. My parents paid school fees for me to study architecture o! I even did a masters. Last month, my uncle still called me to explain why architecture is the truth and the light, but I know I can never return to it. I quit my architecture job in 2019 because that thing was sucking my blood. I’d gotten to the point where I was dreading going to work every day. It was just depressing. I sha took a risk and quit, but the plan was to find another Architecture job. A number of interviews later, lockdown happened, and I was stuck at home. I was applying for jobs remotely, learning new architecture software — and scrolling aimlessly through social media like the rest of us.
I found content marketing by mistake. I saw one ad for digital marketing course on Instagram. I found it interesting, and it sounded like something I could do, so I applied. That was the start of my content journey.
Why did you limit “The Lagos Tourist” to Lagos?
Omo, I’ve always been within or around Lagos. I was born in Mowe, Ogun state, but my primary school was in Lagos. We used to wake up at 4:30 a.m., and my mum would drive my siblings and I to Lagos from 6:00 everyday. Lagos is home in a way. All my friends are in Lagos. I did my NYSC in Lagos. Lagos is in my blood.
I love Lagos, but omo, this city needs help. How did you catch the traveling bug?
If you’ve ever heard the phrase, “Omo, get inside,” that was me. I think it’s one of the major reasons I’m an explorer as an adult. How did I start travelling? Depression, bro. 2019 to 2020 was the most mentally draining period of my life. I just knew I needed to get outside more. It started from taking morning and evening walks, and I saw how that uplifted my mood.
I wanted to travel, but Nigeria and sapa did not allow me to be great. So, I decided to explore locally, and I began to go to different places once or twice weekly. It was generally feel-good, and it helped with my state of mind.
What are some of the best projects you’ve worked on?
The most exciting one so far was my first trip. I think I’m very sentimental about it because it was a reassurance that my community actually sees me, the way they showed up for me. We went to Omu Resort, and it was the first time I organised an event, so I kept stressing over the tiny details. But it turned out well, and I used it as a template for future trips.
Has it been smooth sailing ever since?
I still struggle with taking risks. For every major risk I’ve taken, there was some external push. It shocks me how much people believe in my skills sometimes.
What’s the most and least you’ve charged to create content?
The least I’ve gotten paid for content was ₦30k. The most I’ve charged was ₦1m.
How do you price these things?
I have a rate card that states the cost of each content format — reels, feed post, story and in-person appearance. In the end, it all boils down to negotiation between me, my manager and the client. We agree on the content type and projected timelines. I always require creative freedom because I work best when my mind is free. We send an invoice, and alert ma wole.
Have you ever regretted taking a bet on yourself with content creation?
I never really regret anything because I tend to do things with my chest. I have a coconut head, and it comes with the package. I think it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made because I make more money as a content creator than from my 9-5. But I still feel like I’m just starting out. I have some structure, with two managers — a talent manager who helps with daily content and client negotiations, and an events manager who plans my trips and experiences.
Initially, I would create content blindly, but I’m finally hacking the monetisation aspect of it and how to leverage communities. I’ve not neared my peak yet.
Why is it important for you to be managed by two people?
I used to have one manager to manage me and the event side of things. But I realised how hard it was to balance. She was really great on the client management side, but the events kept suffering.
And although I’m not a fulltime creator yet, I work like one. So the pressure was a lot. I was burning out quickly, and it was telling on my work across board.
I had to hire the events manager. Now, I handle creating the actual content — scripting, shooting, video editing. One manager helps with contract negotiation, responding to mails and generally getting brands to approach “The Lagos Tourist” brand. And the other does things like location scouting and vendor management. Sometimes, we’re intertwined. Everybody chips in on content and gives feedback.
How do you stay so relatable?
I think I’ve hacked Nigerian storytelling. We like drama, we like gist — this helps me craft my scripts properly. I’m also always on social media, so I know what’s trending in the country. It’s basically just staying abreast with cultural trends and telling that story with my brand voice.
Any longterm projects we should expect?
Yes! Just know it involves plenty of group travels. I also want to delve into podcasting, but I can’t tell you much about it now because it’s still in the development phase.
What’s something you’d have done differently now that you know better?
Three things. First, I would’ve put out content on TikTok and YouTube from day one. My Instagram page growth has been amazing, but I know if I’d just repurposed the content for TikTok and YouTube shorts, I would’ve grown my page across board. Doing it now feels like a chore. Na every time my manager dey drag me.
Another thing is, I would’ve reached out for more collaborations when I first started. I’m a generally shy person even though nobody ever believes me when I say so. It was only when other creators started reaching out for collabs that I realised the importance of it. I’m still a shy girl, but I’ve been accepting more invitations and intentionally asking people whose content I resonate with for potential collabs.
The third thing I would’ve done differently is charge enough from the start. If I had been communicating with other creators, I could’ve asked them what they charged at what point. In the creator economy, nobody really knows what anybody else charges, and when you first start out, you’re never sure if you’re overcharging or undercharging. So, yeah, I definitely would’ve asked fellow creators more questions.
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I’m Chinaza. I’m 25, and I’m a content creator. I make short Nollywood skits where I play myself and a very realistic male character. I pretty much stay in my house all day, shooting. If I’m not shooting, I’m editing, gaming or sleeping. I’m the worst person to ask what their favourite food is. So long as it tastes nice, I’ll eat it. As for colours, I love black. But I also like blue and purple. I feel like life’s too short to be restricted to certain things. Whatever feels, looks or tastes nice, just go with it.
Gaming? What do you play?
God of War, Call of Duty, The Last of Us and Red Dead Redemption. I play anything but soccer. I don’t see the point. You just keep kicking the ball around; I’ve never understood it.
The question boggling my mind about your skits is how… how do you have so much chemistry with yourself?
First of all, I’m androgynous. Growing up, I was the only child, and my parents were very protective of me. I wasn’t allowed to go out, much less make friends. They were very sceptical, so I spent a lot of time in my own company, watching people. As a child, I never leaned toward any gender completely. If I bring out my childhood pictures, you’d mistake me in some of them for my brother. When I did make friends, they were boys.
Have you named the male version of yourself?
No, I haven’t. But I’m planning to.
When you walk in on me shooting, it’s a different person. I’ve actually shot with people, and the moment I finished dressing up, they’d be like, “Wow! There’s a change around here.” I don’t know how it happens.
You’re really committed. You wear a bodysuit and even cut your hair
In 2020, I went the whole year without doing anything to my hair. I didn’t make it. I didn’t care for it. I just ended up looking like I had rats running through it. I realised that since I play a male character, keeping a low cut would make it easier.
You’re right, I’m committed. Becoming that character is a sort of escapism. I feel like a whole new person. There’s this feeling, this aura. I get to be two different people.
You make it look so easy. What’s your content creation story?
I’ve just been coasting through life. I grew up in the east, Anambra. As a child, I wanted to be an actor. I was 15 and in university when I started to reach out to producers and directors. You can count only a handful of Asaba directors or producers I don’t know or haven’t met. I met a whole lot of them, and at the end of the day, they were all asking for the same thing.
Oh no. You were just a baby
Oh yes. And they didn’t care.
There was this guy — he was quite popular, and I don’t want to name names. He gave me a script to read so I could hone my scriptwriting skill, then asked me to see him at a hotel. He’s been in the game since the early Nollywood days. That’s how old he was. He tried to kiss me, but I resisted. I was like, “Hello. When did we go from reading scripts to kissing?” He smiled and asked how old I was. I said 15. He smiled again and said, “You’re young. Everything you’ve done and have yet to do has been forgiven”. I gave him back his script and left. He said he’d reach out to me but never did. He stopped picking my calls. But at least, that one took my no for no.
This other director told me everybody pays their dues in the industry because I said I believed my talent and God would take me to wherever I wanted to be. He told me that what I was saying was laughable because, before Lucifer’s fall, he was the chief angel of entertainment. And after he was cast out, God didn’t take that power from him. The entertainment industry is governed by Lucifer, so my God and I can fuck off.
That’s a lot. You were a kid. Were your parents aware?
The incident that made them know was really nasty, and I still can’t talk about it. I’ve always been very curious and independent. When I want something, I go for it. There was even a time I went to Enugu to see Pete Edochie, unplanned.
Omo? You’re bold oh
I got to Enugu and started asking people on the streets for his address. It was crazy. Somehow, I located his house. I waited for some time before he came down. I told him I wanted to act and had been trying for some time. He asked me how old I was. I told him I was 15 and in my first year of university. He scolded me and told me not to rush. I should go back and focus on school. I won’t say I listened, but I had a nasty experience that eventually made me stop. That was the last straw.
Around that time, skit-making was becoming popular, so my friends were like, “All these people are doing these skits from their homes.” I wanted to act, but who would watch me? But I eventually shot a video, posted it, and people liked it. This was around 2015. I started fully in 2017, so I’ve been at it for six years now. The growth was exponential. My creations were Nollywood-based. I migrated from Instagram to TikTok in November 2021.
When did you have your first viral video?
I posted grace to grass stories, “Nollywood Movies Be Like” and more. One day, I checked my phone and saw +100 followers and +100 notifications. Tunde Ednut and Don Jazzy had reposted one of my videos. It was everywhere.
There was also this competition Larry Gaga hosted. At the time, I wanted a new workstation, which cost ₦1.5 million, so I needed all the money I could get. That was the first time I posted on TikTok with intention, and I got 500 views. I won the competition and I think that was my second viral post.
What was the first Nollywood movie you saw that made you want to make Nollywood skits?
For someone who makes short Nollywood skits, you’d think I watch many of them. I didn’t watch television because of my strict parents. I started watching Nollywood movies, and none really stood out for me. I just found it easy to spot the cliches. I don’t reference any movies; I just stitch up words and cliches I have heard Nollywood characters use, and I run with them.
Did you study something related to your content creation?
I studied English because my dad wouldn’t let me do Theatre Arts. I don’t write scripts except when a client specifically asks for it. Most of my acting is by impulse. I don’t think about them; I just know what I’m going for and how it should come out.
What’s your dream cast and plot?
I have a story in my head. I don’t have the capacity for it now, but one day, I will. I hope Pete Edochie will still be alive by then because I need him in it. So there’s him, Blossom Chukwujekwu, Stan Nze, Jimmy Odukoya. It’ll be an epic movie.
If you don’t watch a lot of Nollywood movies, why did you pick this form of creative expression?
I stuck to Nollywood because I started taking TikTok much more seriously. The post I made for the competition was Nollywood cliche-themed. Because it did well, I made another one, which did even more numbers. The content transcended my regular audience. People from China, who’d never heard of Nollywood, were asking for more. And the slap-stick industry was becoming saturated. I’m not even good at it; it doesn’t come naturally to me. I just wanted something different. The moment I left the slap-stick comedy niche, I lost some of my audience. But when people look at my work, I want them to see the effort and thought that went into it. I just needed something special.
You do good work
I give my character’s backstories. I try to get into their mind. Who is this character? A lover boy? A wicked prince? I know how the character walks and talks. The moment I have all that in my head, I’m that person. For instance, the very clear difference between my male and female characters is that I suddenly take up more physical space when I’m the male character. The way I walk and speak is different.
How much time and money goes into making one video?
It takes more time and effort than money. I could manoeuvre my screen the way I want, and I already have a wardrobe full of costumes. There was one video I spent more than ₦100k to make. It was about the different tribes in Nigeria, so I had to get the different costumes. And I can spend up to a week making a video. When I say a week, I mean several hours back-to-back.
What does a typical day of creating content look like?
I usually sleep from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. When I wake up, I eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. I like setting up my shoot at 11 p.m., and depending on what I’m working on, I may be at it till 10 a.m. Then I sleep and wake up again around 5 p.m. to continue. It has altered my circadian rhythm because even when I take breaks, even when I am not working, I find myself sleeping through the day and being up at night.
What are your rates like?
I charge brands from ₦500k to ₦700k for ads. It’s efficient. I’m not as poor as my enemies think I am, but I’m also not as rich as some people think.
What would you being rich look like?
Being rich would entail waking up one morning and impulsively booking a flight to Paris to get ice cream and come back. I make enough to put food on my table and satisfy my basic needs, but I can’t go on a spending spree or splurge money the way I would want. My income isn’t consistent, so I have to make do, and plan ahead, even though it’s hard. There are some months I eat really well; I’d have like three clients I’m creating for. Then I could go three months without a client.
How many videos do you think you’ve created?
I don’t keep count. One thing about me is once I’ve created and posted a video, it’s gone. When I do visit them again, I’m usually like, I should’ve done better.
Who or what influences you?
Kunle Afolayan, Jade Osiberu, Charles of Play — he has a lot of money to pursue his dreams, and he pursues them. Art should be all about pure passion, but unfortunately, that will get you only so far. In the real world, you need more than that. You need flamboyance, exposure and connection. If you want to make it purely on passion, make peace with the fact that you won’t achieve your full potential. You need money, you need to know people to push your art, no matter how good it is.
What do you do when you’re not creating?
Sleep. I close my eyes and sleep. And sometimes, I game. I’ve also made a promise to myself to go out a bit more and meet people. Since I shot that video for the TikTok competition, I don’t think I’ve left my house more than 20 times. I just shoot and post. In 2023, I’ll go out more and maybe find love.
What’s the most annoying thing about your work?
When I decide to try something different once in a while, people will be like, ”No, no. This isn’t why we’re here.” And I’m like, “Shut the fuck up”. Or when you offer your two cents about a concerning issue, I’ll hear, “You better focus on your comedy.” It’s annoying.
What sort of impact do you want to make in the industry within the next couple of years?
I have a dream of owning a film school one day. I don’t even know how to go about that, but I’d like to see actors with more skills in the industry. When you watch a good movie, you watch an actor become the character they’re playing. It feels like they’re in their house in that movie. It feels real. You can see the connection. But when you watch a movie, and it feels like the home is from Airbnb, I want that to change.
Do you feel fulfilled yet, though?
I could be doing more. There are days when I feel fulfilled, and there are other days I just don’t know. I try to tell people, and they don’t understand.
Do you struggle with imposter syndrome?
All the time. I know I dey try, but when people post my work, I’m like, are you gassing me up? I feel my own audience may be lying to me, so what I do when different accounts share my work is I go through the comments. Because I feel I would see the truth there, from complete strangers who’d rate my work without sentiments. Most times, though, it’s the same praise.
Local content is beginning to outcompete international films in Africa as rapid smartphone penetration and an affordable and expanding internet bring African creatives closer to audiences.
By Seth Onyango, Bird Story Agency
African creatives are finding a new audience among the youth, who according to the latest Africa No Filter report have grown their proclivity for local content.
The narrative change organisation’s report indicates Africans are consuming African films equally as much as they consume the US or international content.
“Most respondents watched films every week, whether local/African films (67%) or US/international films (66%). Among respondents who had watched between one and seven films, slightly more respondents had watched local or African films (57%) than international or US films (53%),” the report reads in part.
Regionally, North Africans were the least likely to have watched a film (45%) but were equally as likely to have watched local/African and US/international films (51%).
West Africans were marginally more likely to have watched local/African films (70%) compared to international films (67%).
“International films received a marginally greater audience in East Africa (78%) and Southern Africa (73%) compared to local/African films. Respondents from Côte d’Ivoire were most likely to have watched a film, whether local/African (86%) or international/US (76%),” Africa No Filter, a donor collaborative that supports African narratives, reports.
“Given the minor discrepancies, it seems that audiences are as interested in watching local/African films as they are in watching international ones.”
Recent studies also show that Africa’s young population is helping to drive video subscription business revenue for streaming services as content on the go shakes the African media market.
Digital TV Research’s figures now show the continent will have 13.64 million paying Subscription-Video-on-Demand (SVOD) by 2027, up from 4.90 million at end-2021.
Household SVOD subscriptions will still remain low compared to more mature markets like Europe.
Digital TV Research further shows some 6.6% of TV households will pay for at least one subscription by 2027 – up from 3.9% at end-2021.
International streaming services like Netflix have also taken note of the shifting trend in Africa towards local content and are now co-producing both films and reality series like the popular Young, Famous & African.
Tellingly, Netflix now has a category of “Made in Africa” and “Nollywood” which highlights how serious it conceives the African market.
While Africa’s ballooning youth population and growing middle class could represent a profitable niche for streaming services, this could also be a big opportunity for African production industries.
However, Nigerian film critic Wilfred Okiche, warns that Nollywood may, for now, have lost its shine and that the Netflix “opportunity” should be handled with care.
“For independent Nollywood filmmakers, the Netflix relationship is a lifeline to an industry badly in need of structural uplift, having hit something of a plateau with both video and theatrical, its two primary distribution models,” Okiche argues.
Netflix, Showmax, Disney, and Amazon have been studying consumer habits on the continent to appeal to its one billion-plus audience.
Netflix has about 2.6 million subscribers in Africa and wants to grow that number to 5 million by 2025. The number of people watching movies on the platform is said to be much higher, factoring in family sharing by its premium subscribers.
Netflix’s chief rival, MultiChoice’s Showmax, which has invested heavily in original African content, is beginning to reap the reward as African content now accounts for 40% of its viewing.
MultiChoice is Africa’s largest pay-TV group, available in 50 African countries. Its streaming service launched in 2015 and is available in 46 African countries, as well as in Britain and France, where it targets the African diaspora.
In April this year, the streaming service said it will double its investment in creating movies and shows set in its biggest markets of Nigeria, Kenya, and South Africa.
Meanwhile, the Africa No Filter report further found that African writers are not writing for local audiences, the continent’s readership also hardly reads for pleasure.
Hardly any respondents had also read a book in the month before the interview; 75% with 71% had not read any African authors.
“This indicates that African authors are not attracting an African youth audience. We also compared the respondents’ reading habits, asking how many books by African and/or international authors they had read for pleasure over the last month,” Africa No Filter notes.
Hi, I’m Blessing. I’m 25, a skateboarder, and a community developer. Dencity is my community.
Something people don’t know about me is I’m from Cross River. I enjoy seeing groups of girls skating, especially after seeing a movie about a girl skate group. And I decided we needed something like that in Nigeria.
I started coming to the stadium. This was before the lockdown, and back then, there were just two guys who skated. I started skating fully in 2021 when I began Dencity. I was like, “Since there’s no community, why don’t I build it?” I started posting my videos and telling people, “I’m a girl who skates. If you want to join me, here’s my number. Meet me here,” and they did.
Is that how Dencity kicked off?
Yeah, I just started Dencity last year, and we host sessions at the National Stadium. We also host events in Abuja and Port Harcourt. And Dencity is in five states now, and I love it.
Dencity Lagos
Why was it important for Dencity to exist?
It’s good to see so many girls interested in it. According to some people, “it’s a masculine sport,” so being in Nigeria, it’s euphoric for me every time I come out and see all the girls skating. Even when we recently hosted a beach thing, the number of people that showed up stunned me.
Wow, that’s super cool. What else influenced you to skate?
I was into sports growing up and was even my secondary school’s games prefect. So when I was really young, I watched a movie I can’t remember, about skateboarding, and I wanted to learn how to do it because it looked cool.
In the movie, people were doing crazy tricks. I thought, “How can you fly from this place to this place?” It was just really fascinating to me.
How are you already so good after a year of skating?
I’m not that good! I’m still trying to be better every day. I want to land a kickflip before the end of this month. I just know I can get better, and I will.
Were you with another group before Dencity?
No. But now, I’m also signed to Waffles and Cream, a community of like minded creatives bringing a genuine approach to celebrate subcultures. I work there, and the management owns WAF, the brand, so there’s that.
How did you get signed?
I posted videos of me skating on Instagram. Then, I started talking to and skating with a guy called Henry, who used to work at WAF. One day, I had a board that wasn’t too good, and he asked me to bring it to the shop so they could change it for me. I got there and introduced myself to JOMI, WAF’s owner. He set up my board for free.
Back then, I was working a 9-5. I’d work and skate afterwards at the stadium or freedom park.
Why did you need management?
Skateboarding is now popular. People like to add skateboarders to their music videos or get us to wear their brand for photo shoots. And skateboards aren’t cheap. It’s like ₦105k. If you like what I’m doing and think it’s cool, pay me. They don’t enjoy paying. They just want to “collaborate”. Come on. I need to buy my boards and pay for transport to come out and skate. I also need to pay bills.
Yet Dencity is free?
Yeah, it is. I provide the boards for 70% of the girls in Dencity because I know it’s tough for us girls. I know what I went through at first. People kept saying, ”This sport is for boys. Na man thing you dey do.” Like, guy, I just want to have fun. I know how parents frown on stuff like this, so I wasn’t about to let them struggle through all that.
Did your parents give you hell for your hobby?
Nope. I’m 25! My parents are in Calabar. I’m alone here in Lagos. I came without a job or anything.
That’s like the Nollywood Lagos dream
It was not the dream, oh. A job brought me here, but it ended up being a scam. After I got to Lagos, they switched their numbers off. I sent countless emails, and nobody replied.
I’m so sorry that happened. What’s your favourite thing about skating?
Learning a new trick. I’m currently learning to kickflip, and as soon as I land it, I’ll go for thanksgiving. Before you ask, no, there’s no easy trick to land. Skating is hard. You just have to keep trying.
What do you do outside of skating?
Oh wow, I feel like a boring person. If I’m not skating, I’m working or at a party. I love techno and house music.
What does fulfillment in your skating career look like?
I don’t have a career yet, but I want to be signed by Adidas. I love them so much. I love their shoes and clothes. I’m always wearing Adidas.
I’m hoping in two to three years, Dencity will leave the stadium and have its own skate park and shop, so girls can skate and work. I want to grow a community where everyone who just wants to meet people can have a space. Not just for skating, you know?
Many people I’ve met while skating have become some of my closest friends. I enjoy coming to the stadium to teach the Dencity community new tricks, see their progress and just skating together. We come, skate, take pictures and hang out. It’s a safe space to be comfortable and express yourself. I feel so fulfilled already. I’m thrilled you can find Dencity in other states. I wanted this, and it’s just the beginning.
Hi, I’m Mitya, my pronouns are she/her and I’m a food critic and tourist. My food ick is I have a problem with people who soak garri with groundnut and milk. And for an Igbo person, I don’t like ukwa. Something people don’t know is I’m reticent. I’m always expected to be outgoing and the life of the party, but I’m that millennial you’ll find sleeping at the club by 4 a.m.
Confession time. I remember seeing you on my timeline, always eating a lot of eggs
Oh no. You know the crazy egg lady. I used to talk about her like she never existed and tried to deny her. Those were dark times. But eating eggs is a big part of my diet. I support Ghanaians; eggs can go with anything. Egg in pepper soup, ogbono, banga and okro soup slaps. I’ve decided not to be in the egg closet anymore, so I’m coming out now to say I’m proud of it.
I… Wow. Was that how you got into mukbangs?
In 2020, I went on my first food tour of Akwa-Ibom. While I was there, we got the news COVID had hit. I was with my sister and friends, so we had to return to Warri. It didn’t take long before there was a lockdown. I’ve always had a passion for food, so when I couldn’t travel to create content, I decided to start making mukbang content. For me, it was trying to show the world what I’m capable of through eating, basically, for bragging rights. I got into mukbangs because I love food. Food for me is better than love. It’ll never break your heart.
Mitya’s first mukbang.
How many states have you created content in since then?
I’ve made content in Asaba, in Delta state, which is where I live. I’ve been to Port Harcourt, Yenogoa, Oshogbo, Abuja, Lagos, Maiduguri, Ilorin and Ibadan. Just seven so far.
How did you stay safe in Maiduguri?
After I went to Maiduguri, I realised all the rest of Nigeria sees is stories about the bombing and crises. I’m not a fearful person; I have a lot of passion for what I do and a “you only live once” mindset, so I don’t care if I die doing what I love. So yes, I went there because I needed to tell their story differently from what mainstream media shows. I understand it’s dangerous, but there’s a lot more happening in these places.
You’re fearless o
Actually, Maiduguri was peaceful when I was there, but the surrounding towns weren’t. In fact, after I left, I heard about a bomb blast in Maiduguri. But before you ask, I can’t wait to go back there, that’s how much I enjoyed it. It’s a secular state, and while I tried to blend in by wearing a hijab, there was no need to. I met friendly people, and they have Christians there too.
And what about the language barrier?
I kept meeting people who spoke English. Many people speak Hausa there, but it’s not a major dialect in Maiduguri. I wouldn’t have known that if I’d never visited. I also got to eat a bunny there.
What does a bunny taste like? Wait, don’t answer. What are some other weird foods you’ve eaten?
I wouldn’t say weird, but the most challenging thing I’ve tried was the edible worms/tree lava called “Bayelsa suya”. It’s a major delicacy in Bayelsa, and while I wasn’t crazy about it, it’s an acquired taste. In Maiduguri, there were locusts which tasted like dried shrimps, camel meat slow-cooked over gas and a roasted bunny rabbit.
The poor rabbit.
Mitya with edible worms.
Her eating locust.
Mitya eating a monitor lizard in Ilorin.
Does your day job fund your mukbangs?
Yes, but it’s not a nine-to-five. I co-own a food consulting company. We hire staff for restaurant development, social media management/strategy, staff training and tour guides. I mean, travelling and eating are expensive.
What’s the most and least expensive state you’ve been to so far?
Both my Abuja food tours were costly. The cheapest was Osun state. At a point, I was even begging people to take my money there.
Travel to Osun, noted. Do you have a favourite state you’ve visited?
No. Every state has its special memory and amazing food, and I wouldn’t compare them. Eating local dishes in their states of origin hits different. It’s like the dish is telling you a story, and my job is to tell stories about the culture of people through food. Nothing connects people like food, not even football.
What are the best and worst things people have said about your mukbangs?
People have told me I’ll die soon, or be hospitalised, and I’m wasting money. Some have said I only do this because a man is funding me. Despite all that, I love when my old followers are proud of me and acknowledge my growth. Or when I leave food reviews, and people tell me it helped boost sales.
There’s also my dada. Being my biggest fan, he’d comment on every post and help me shoot videos; he still does these things. I got him to participate in a mukbang contest one time, and he won. People loved it. He’s where I got my appetite from.
How fulfilled do you feel?
I don’t always feel fulfilled — sometimes, I get imposter syndrome — but what I do makes me happy. If I wasn’t creating mukbang, I’d be a poet. In fact, I’m a poet. I just didn’t blow with that one. All I want from life is to keep doing things that help me express myself.
What’s something you wish food content creators would do?
I feel like sometimes, we are passive about our Nigerian dishes. I don’t see the excitement or flair we give western foods. I’m very pro-African food; my social media is full of it. Afro-fusion is nice, but our dishes are magical on their own. All of us as content creators need to shine more light on Nigerian Cuisine.
That’s why when I travel I make sure to showcase the traditional dishes of that particular region. There’s much more to Nigerian cuisine than suya, Jollof rice, Egusi soup and fufu, and food content creators across Nigeria can help showcase that.
Content creators know that it isn’t exactly the easiest job in the world. But being a content creator in Nigeria is another kettle of fish.
Here are 6 struggles every Nigerian content creator can relate to:
NEPA will frustrate you
Do we even need to explain this? At this point, we all know that NEPA only exists to disgrace you because why is it when you’re in the middle of recording your TikTok for the seventh time that NEPA decides they want to do their job and bring light. Now you have to record an eighth time because your neighbour’s siren entered the last video.
Working from home is the absolute ghetto
If it’s not your mum sending you on countless errands, it’s your neighbours thinking you’re jobless because you stay home all day. See finish pro max.
Creative blocks are very real
Your head will not always be full of banging ideas and you might feel even more pressure when you see other creators rolling out fire ideas on a steady. Come on brain, think of things!
People keep asking for urgent 2k
It’s like these people in your DM don’t understand that you’re also open to collecting urgent 2k. Don’t let my ring light and clean English fool you, dears. Me too I’m in need of help.
Creator tools are not cheap
This should even be the first point because no one told you being a content creator in Nigeria would be this expensive! Web hosting, scheduling apps, payment gateways, design tools etc. To make matters worse, pricing is mostly in dollars and the naira is always playing with your feelings.
Monetising can be tricky
Creating content is one thing, figuring out a way to make money from it is another. It’s almost like, if product influencing isn’t your calling, you might as well pack your ring light to your village.
Fidia fixes a couple of these struggles.
Fidia is an all-in-one creator monetisation platform that focuses on helping creators like you showcase their creative work, grow their audience, and monetise their creativity. Fidia has created a suite of tools intended to help creators at various levels to become better creatives while also making that schmoney!
Stop giving yourself a headache wondering how to earn money while still sharing amazing value and sign up on Fidia now.
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.
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.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
After today’s subject on #NairaLife was fired from her ₦200k/month job in 2020, she found remote work and hasn’t looked back since. Since then, she’s gone from $50k to $93k a year, and she’s only 24.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
As a child, I was hell-bent on making my own money. Even today, my dad talks about how much I loved money. I never had a “baby of the house” phase. I’m the firstborn, and my brother was born shortly after me. I had to learn to share from a young age, so it was just natural to want my own stuff.
From my pocket money in primary school, I bought soft drinks and sold them to my parents and neighbours for twice the price. They patronised me because I was a child. My dad was always excited to see me try to make money. He encouraged me by having conversations about career with me and giving me books to read. I read Rich Dad, Poor Dad when I was nine.
But were things good at home?
I’d say we were a lower-middle-class family for the early stages of my life. My dad was a government contractor and my mum was a civil servant. In 2008, when I was 10, our luck changed. My dad got a super contract that single-handedly moved us to being rich rich. We started travelling abroad for holidays, shopping in malls, getting cars, drivers, etc.
This continued until 2015 when my dad invested a ton of money in an infrastructure-based contract that turned bad. Because it was a government contract, people advised him to withdraw and just leave his money if he didn’t want to risk his life.
Ah.
By this time, I was in my second year in university, getting a ₦50k allowance monthly. Thankfully, I saved about ₦30k of it because I didn’t need to spend so much. As things got worse, my dad had to sell assets and borrow money to pay our school fees. On some months, he couldn’t give us allowances, so I had to survive on my savings from both my allowance and the internships I was doing since I was 14.
You were doing internships at 14?
People have always told me I’m ambitious, but really, I just hate being idle. Internships, when I was younger, were just me trying to figure out what I wanted to do in the future.
I wanted to become a journalist, so I worked at a magazine publishing company owned by my dad’s friend. This was in 2012. It paid ₦5k per week for the four weeks I worked there. I basically sat and watched movies all day every day, except the one time I followed the crew out to take celebrity pictures. It was too stressful running around trying to get pictures. That experience and someone telling me journalists didn’t make much money made me cross journalism off my career to-do list.
In 2013, I got an internship at an airline through another of my dad’s friends. It paid ₦10k for the one month I was there. I got to the office and read a book every day. On some days, I was sent on errands. But in that period, I learnt how organisations work and how people communicate in workplaces.
Then you started university in 2014.
And I was still doing internships. This time, it was with an advertising agency. I picked calls and sat in on different teams’ meetings. That’s where I first learnt about content marketing and strategy. In 2015, I went back to intern there again.
So, back to my family wahala. I didn’t notice the shift from being lower-middle-class to being rich like I noticed the shift from being rich back to being lower-middle-class. I was older and much more aware, and seeing my family suffer made me desire to have money even more.
You’ve been working since you were 14. How are you not burnt out?
Oh, I’ve burnt out a few times. The first time was in 2017. A friend passed away towards the end of my internship and all the work stress I’d been carrying just broke like a dam, so I wasn’t focusing during those last few weeks. I also burnt out quite a bit as time went on. Even last year.
Interesting. Let’s go back to your many jobs.
In 2016/2017, I worked at an experiential marketing agency for my school IT. I absolutely hated it. The stress was too much. Experiential marketing means you have to run around to make the campaign work out. Thankfully, my allowance was still coming in trickles, so I could survive.
Before I graduated in 2018, I spoke at a school career fair, and a man from some big company approached me to hire me. He liked my speech and they were looking for an intern. It was April, and I thought it was going to be a summer internship, so I said I was interested. A few days later, some people from the company called me to interview me and ask when I could resume. That’s how I started working while I was in my final year. I went to the office only on Fridays and my salary was ₦20k.
Let me guess, it was stressful.
Stressful as hell. The salary was only enough for transportation and maybe some food. Many times, I got back to school after they’d locked the school gates because of traffic. I had to make friends with the security guards so I wouldn’t get in trouble.
I eventually stopped working there in October. I went for NYSC camp in November, and a content agency that had also heard me speak at the career fair reached out to hire me for the year of NYSC. I accepted the job and started working there in December, two days after my convocation.
Best in working.
LMAO! By January 2019, my monthly income became at least ₦69,800 per month. NYSC paid ₦19,800, and the job paid ₦50k. My lecturers from my old school also started recommending me to final year and master’s students to proofread their projects. This didn’t happen every month, but I charged ₦25k whenever I got a gig. Sometimes, I got three gigs in a month. Other times, people didn’t pay up. I still have like three people owing me from freelance jobs.
I also moved out of my parents’ house in 2019 because work was far from home. I lived with family. The summary of my 2019 until September was that I was broke. My monthly earnings couldn’t sustain me.
What happened in September 2019?
I finished NYSC and got a raise to ₦200k for the same role. Omo, it was amazing. I started taking Ubers to work and was able to save small amounts from time to time. Things were looking good until March 2020 when I was laid off.
Ouch. COVID?
COVID. The company was losing money, so they laid a bunch of us off. That period was extra depressing for me because I had another job offer from a bank that was going to pay ₦300k. When COVID hit, they stopped replying. I got a ₦300k severance package from my job, and my dad asked me to save it in dollars since I wasn’t doing anything with the money.
I moved back home and moped around for a bit. I had zero savings except for the dollars, no job, and nobody was hiring. By June, I decided to go online to look for freelance work.
What did you find?
Between June and August, I helped a couple of people revamp their LinkedIn pages. I made about $250 in total from all my jobs. But freelance was stressful. I had to pander to impress people and didn’t like it. I wanted an actual job, so I started researching how I could find one.
My goal was to find a content marketing job, but I didn’t even know so much about content marketing. I knew more about content strategy. All the jobs I applied for rejected me. By August, I joined online communities of content marketers through LinkedIn and Slack and took it as a job to participate in conversations very actively. What this helped me do was understand better how to present myself as a content marketer.
Another key thing I learned in this period — which I think anyone looking for remote work should learn — was how to present myself as someone looking for a job, and not as a Nigerian looking for a remote job. All those fancy Canva CVs were thrown out of the window. I focused instead on making my LinkedIn look as professional as possible.
When did you find your first remote job?
September 2020. It paid $400 a week. It was a content marketing role for the sister company of a company that didn’t hire me because they suddenly didn’t have a budget for my role. I was in a one-man team writing, creating images, doing social media, and everything else content-related. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it helped me build a strong portfolio in content marketing.
By November, a content marketing agency reached out to me via LinkedIn. They were looking for a content marketing manager. Their offer was $50k a year. That’s $4,187 a month.
I couldn’t sleep the day the offer came. I’d just gone from earning nothing to earning millions in naira. I hadn’t just secured my first million, I was going to be getting millions every month. I had to adjust my thinking to accommodate the fact that I was making that much money. When I got my first salary, I didn’t even spend from it at first. I was just looking at it in my account.
I left the other company in January 2021 because the stress of working two jobs was too much for me.
Did your parents know how much you were earning?
They’ve known all my salaries. They’d always been there, so there’s no point hiding it from them now that it had increased. Thankfully, they’re not the type of people to overburden me with requests. By 2020, my dad had gotten another nice contract that was steadying the family, and my mum had gotten a promotion and a raise too. So things were good.
Back to your plenty money.
By August, I got a promotion that increased my salary to $55k a year. That’s $4,583 monthly. It wasn’t too much of an increase, but it was something. At this point, I’d gotten used to the money, so I decided to spend it. I converted a part of my parents’ house into a mini apartment for myself. I bought everything — new furniture, a new laptop, a desktop, a new phone, fridge, freezer, everything. By the time I was done, I’d spent about ₦10m. I have zero regrets. It’s super comfortable for me.
My taste also went up. I bought only expensive things — plates, furniture, high-end clothing, etc.
By October, I got another promotion and raise. This time, to $60k a year. $5k a month. When I got that raise, I started feeling super dissatisfied. I knew I could earn so much more elsewhere. These raises were too small to keep me in one place.
Back to LinkedIn?
The next thing was to find a job at an organisation that did their content marketing in-house and not work with an agency. At agencies, you have to work with different clients who have different needs. But on an in-house marketing team, you can focus on the company and avoid the stress of talking to too many people. That same October, I started applying for in-house agency jobs.
One that I applied to got back to me, and by February 2022, I started working with them.
How much do they pay?
$93k a year.
Interesting.
I’m not used to the massive jump yet. In three months, I went from earning $5,000 a month to saving $5,000 a month. Right now, my monthly income is $7,746. $5k goes into investments and savings, and the other $2,746 is spent.
What do you spend your money on?
Let’s also look at your investment portfolio.
I’ve always gravitated towards non-traditional investments like crypto, so I have a lot of that. However, the downturn in the crypto markets made me reevaluate my investment strategy and redirect to more traditional instruments like property and mutual funds. Right now, I have $26,000 in crypto assets, $4,500 in an investment account I’ve just opened, $5,000 in my savings and emergency funds, and land worth ₦2 million. I also now use a financial management company to manage my finances better.
Where do you see yourself in the near future?
My immediate goal is to be making $10k per month in the next year. As I climb higher up the ladder, it’s going to be more difficult to make massive jumps. My dream is to make $150k a year by the time I’m 30, but I’ve realised I dream too small, and my reality always blows my expectations out of the park. So let me keep my hopes at $150k, maybe I’ll be making more than that soon.
What do you want right now but can’t afford?
Hmmm. Nothing. Wait, maybe citizenship to a different country. Maybe my own house. Maybe to move to a better, bigger rented apartment. I’ve seen one in Lagos that I like that’s ₦10m a year, but I don’t want to take it yet. I want to focus on investing and building wealth.
And your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?
8.5. It could be a 9. It can’t be a 10 because there’s always room to earn more.
We want to know how young people become adults. The question we ask is “What’s your coming of age story?” Every Thursday, we’ll bring you the story one young Nigerian’s journey to adulthood and how it shaped them.
There are a lot of things you don’t realise about life and growing up when you’re a child. It’s worse when you’re a sheltered child, like I was. I grew up in an old city in south-western Nigeria, in a family of thirteen. My family was comfortable financially, but this changed and got progressively worse as I got older.
Because I was smart, and because I hung out at a school close to my house, I started school early. Most of my early memories are dominated by this — school: of the awards I collected, the friends I made, the crushes I had. Which is ironic because I hate school now.
I’ve never had a grand plan for life, so my thoughts for the future were shaped by older people with influence over my life. People like my literature teacher who believed I should study law because I was good in government and argued a lot. I was fascinated by his belief in me and followed this path until I failed to gain admission into the university on my first attempt. I settled for English and continued riding that wave and winging life from there.
Growing up, the only big picture I saw for myself was that I wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t want to be trapped in the same struggle-driven lifestyles many people around me lived. I have never been able to work out how to reach that state and stay there, but I know it’s important that I do.
I think about adulting in two phases — the point when my parents first regarded me as an adult, and the point when I started regarding myself as an adult. The day I got my first NYSC allowance and travelled back home from Taraba was the day my parents regarded me as an adult. I was 22 at the time and they stopped giving me handouts after. It’s not like they completely kicked me out of the nest and neglected me, but they never offered anything and I never asked. In fact, I started sending money home to my mother soon after. I felt weird the first time I sent money to my father because it was such an adult thing to do and I still felt like a 12-year-old at heart.
For me, adulthood started when the post-NYSC struggle arrived. This was the point when I knew I needed to actually do something with my life but I still had no plan. I was still actively winging things which made things worse. It was the most confusing period in my life.
I eventually moved to Lagos because there was a job waiting for me; well a low-paying internship. I don’t think I should need to explain why I chose it. The only other offer I had was from that literature teacher. He offered me a position teaching government.
I hopped from a bus to sleeping on a distant stranger’s cold floor to another even more distant stranger’s couch. I was living the adult dream; I was an intern at a media firm at this point, making barely enough to just eat. Things got better, and I made great friends who were along for the ride.
At the same time things started to settle, I lost my father. It sucked because he deserved to get more out of life. But the universe doesn’t concern itself with giving you your dues. That’s one of the things I’ve had to learn from becoming an adult. You get it or you don’t, you still die.
Since I’ve been forced to grow up, the most obvious realisation that’s hit me is that you can’t live for just yourself. With my father gone now, I’ve taken up more responsibility for my mother and sister. People call it the black tax. It can sometimes be really stressful, but I don’t know how you can do it any different for the people you love.
Most fundamentally, I think adulting has made me grow more cynical with everything you can think of, so I tend to dissociate a lot and it sometimes bothers me.
There’s no grand plan to life. I might be saying this because I’m a heathen, but I don’t believe anyone sat down to map out anyone’s destiny. It’s a luxury to think they just jump from one stage to another as designed. Things happen to you, and you just wing it; or you’re deliberate about life, and it works out for you or it doesn’t. You’d expect most people to be envious or concerned but my cynicism will not allow me feel badly about my peers doing better than me.
Only one thing could make me jealous. It’s that some of them live deliberately with plans that sometimes work almost as well as designed.
I’ve been lucky at life and enjoyed certain privileges many would kill for, but I’ve also held the short end of the stick from time to time.
When life deals you a hand or several hands, you wing it and hope you luck out.
