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  • Sunken Ships: I Feel So Guilty Now That My Dad Is Dead

    Sunken Ships is a Zikoko series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    Aminat (21) grew up with a dad who adored her, but things quickly changed when he lost his job. In this week’s Sunken Ships, she talks to us about the decline of their relationship and how she bears so much guilt for the state of their relationship when he died. 

    Click here if you want to be interviewed for Sunken Ships

    Tell me about your relationship with your dad growing up

    Aminat: My dad and I looked alike a lot. Add the fact that I was also the first child of four, I was my dad’s princess, and he adored me. He worked at Shell and travelled a lot, so I’d see him once every three months. But the time we’d spend together was so good, I’ll use it to console myself till the next time he came home. Whenever he’d come around, he’d bring toys and snacks for me from his trip and was always ready to teach me stuff. I don’t like to talk about it, but I can take apart anything electrical with the right set of tools. He was a mechanical engineer who went into electrical engineering, so he knew how a lot of things worked. 

    My dad is the reason I’m currently a writer. The first time I wrote something as a child, he decided I would get published. He started making calls and told me if I finished anything, I should bring it to him. I never finished that book. He taught me a lot of things — how to unscrew a socket, the quadratic formula and how much trust to give to men — but the most important is to be self-aware, because he wasn’t.

    When did things start getting bad? 

    Aminat: A lot of things happened to ruin our relationship, but it all started when he decided to quit his job at Shell and go out on his own as a contractor. He got a contract with the Kwara state government, so I went from seeing him once in three months to once in six. He was in Abuja while the rest of the family was in Lagos, so he wasn’t around for any of the important events of my childhood — my primary school graduation, when I got into secondary school, none of that. Throughout JSS 1 and 2, I never saw my dad. 

    As if that wasn’t bad enough, one day when I was 12, my mum told me we were moving to Abuja. I almost ran mad. I grew up in Lagos and had lived there all my life. How could they just uproot me from everything I’d ever known, to a state so far from everyone I’d known? I was livid. Apparently, he’d gotten another contract in Abuja and wanted us to be together as a family — he’d come home one day and our last born called him “uncle” instead of daddy. After twelve years, he wanted to do family man. I was annoyed. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: There’s Not Much I Need My Father For Now

    How was moving to Abuja like? 

    Aminat: Horrible. I was watching our whole family dynamic scatter before my very eyes. 

    Scatter how? 

    Aminat: First of all, when I was 13 years old, he decided he wanted to be a dutiful Muslim. Shey it’s supposed to be a personal journey? But no, he roped us all into his mess. He started harping on praying five times a day and even transferred my siblings and I to Islamic schools. 

    Were you Muslims before? 

    Aminat: We were, but the calm ones. My mum was raised Christian and only converted because she married my dad, so she was lax with it. The new lifestyle was very different for me. He even banned music in the house. Me that grew up listening to Brandy, Celine Dion and Westlife? I couldn’t take it. I’d use my mum’s phone to go on YouTube and when he wasn’t around, I’d watch MTV on television. It was hard because between him and Islamic school, I felt guilty listening to music, but I loved it too much to care. 

    So sorry about that 

    Aminat: It’s okay. It’s funny because that same year, we found out Mr “best in religion” was spending money on a woman in Abuja all the while my mother was being a good wife in Lagos. 

    Ah. How did your mum react? 

    Aminat: She was livid. I don’t know how she found the woman’s name, but she made me search for her on Facebook and stole her number from my dad’s phone. While all this was going on, she didn’t once give my dad the impression that she knew. 

    Three days after she found out, she called the woman and shouted at her. The woman kept trying to justify it that, as a Muslim, my dad could marry four wives. My mother told the woman she’d kill her if she comes near her or her children. That was the last I heard about that woman.

    Did your dad find out about the call? 

    Aminat: When he came back from work that day, he asked for his food. My mum told him she doesn’t give food to cheats. Once she said that, I ushered all my siblings to their rooms. Thank God I did because my mother started to shout soon after: “I was trying to be a good person in Lagos, but look at you. Abi you think I didn’t have opportunities to cheat? Don’t you have self-control? If you want to marry, marry, but don’t expect me to sit here and take you disrespecting me.” I can never forget the sound of the slap my mother gave him after her speech. 

    That night, my dad didn’t sleep in the house, and the next day, his family members came to beg my mother. It was a whole thing because, in Abuja, we lived in an estate, so our neighbours could hear all the commotion. People kept telling her to think of the children, but she said he should’ve thought of them too before he cheated. 

    Did she leave? 

    Aminat: No, she didn’t. Initially, she acted like she would, but then, my dad fell sick, and she stayed to take care of him. He was in the hospital for two weeks before they took him to the village for a month. During this time, someone on his team stole his contract. He got frustrated and took it out on us, me most especially. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: My Mother Never Loved Me

    Why you? 

    Aminat: Well, because we didn’t have money, I couldn’t go to school for two years. I was a teenager full of angst stuck with a man full of anger. I’d talk back at him, and he’d beat me, sometimes, till I bled. I was thinking of killing myself at this time, so after he’d hit me for doing something, I’d do something worse. In my mind, if I couldn’t kill myself, maybe he could. Gone was the man who took me out to Shoprite so we could spend time together. 

    I’m so sorry. Did it ever get better? 

    Aminat: Not at all. For the longest time, I thought it was my fault for not being the perfect daughter he wanted, but after a lot of thinking and therapy, I realised it wasn’t me. I was a child and he was the adult. He should have known better than to punish me for things that weren’t my fault. My dad wasn’t a very good father. That’s why when he fell sick again in 2021, I wasn’t really bothered. 

    What was wrong with him? 

    Aminat: He had liver problems, but for a while, instead of going to the hospital, he’d stay at home drinking agbo. 

    I was in school when he was admitted in a hospital, and my family kept the severity of his sickness from me. I forgot they lie a lot. He died a couple of weeks after, and they didn’t tell me. 

    How did you find out? 

    Aminat: I was scrolling through WhatsApp statuses when I saw a picture of my dad. The post said, “May heaven be your abode”, and I wanted to go crazy. When I texted my uncle who’d posted it on his status, he kept telling me things like I should take it easy and be calm, God knows best. I thought he was lying, so I called my mum. When she didn’t pick my calls, it clicked. Since my dad was a Muslim, she was already preparing for his burial. 

    Why did they keep it from you? 

    Aminat: My mum didn’t want it to disturb my education. I couldn’t even attend his burial because I was writing exams. 

    I’m so sorry

    Aminat: It’s been a year since he died and it doesn’t really feel real a lot of times. I feel bad for not going to visit him in the hospital before he died. I didn’t see him for up to six months before he died, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for that. 

    In addition to this guilt, I carry around so much sadness. As much as he was terrible to me as a teenager, he was an amazing dad when I was a child. So when I mourn him, I mourn that version of him. But with all the inner healing I’m trying to do, I’m actively working to not be like him.

    READ ALSO: Sunken Ships: My Bestfriend Lied About His Move Abroad

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • Sunken Ships: My Dad Wanted a Christian Not a Daughter

    Sunken Ships is a Zikoko series that explores the how and why of the end of all relationships — familial, romantic or just good old friendships.

    Angela* was her father’s favourite child, and he made it obvious. They did everything together, but all that changed when she decided she no longer wanted to be a Christian.

    Describe your relationship with your dad

    Angela: My dad and I were close. I’m the second child f four, so it’s not like I have any unique title like “last child” or “only girl”, but there was something about my relationship with my dad that felt different. 

    While all my family members were doing their thing in the evenings, I’d stay with my dad to watch television and discuss politics. We supported the same football club, had the same favourite food and the same bad temper. My siblings knew my dad had a soft spot for me, so whenever they wanted his permission for something, they’d always make me ask. I don’t think he maltreated them; he just never hid how much he liked me.

    I went to boarding school like my other siblings and went to university in a different state as they did too. The only thing I believe I did differently was not being in a hurry to move out of the house. 

    Why? 

    Angela: I didn’t want to. I had a job close to the house, I owned a car, and I got to spend time with my parents. 

    I grew up in that house, and it’s comfortable. I’d help around the house, pay for a couple of things and keep them company. My parents never said they wanted me gone. They were getting old, and I didn’t like the idea of older people staying in a house alone. Staying with them meant that in an emergency, someone would find them. 

    That makes sense. So how did it affect your relationship with your dad? 

    Angela: Initially? It didn’t. We watched sports, the news and played ayo together. We even became closer because I was older and understood some things better. He’d give me family gist, and we’d gossip about my mum. 

    All was well and good until I decided I wanted to stop attending church. My parents raised us as Christians. We were in various groups in the same church we’d attended since I was born. They took going to church very seriously, and I did too until I started losing whatever attachment I had to religion.

    I was working late, so I’d skip mid-week services and feign sickness to skip Sunday sermons. Faking it got harder each week because finding new excuses to stay out of church got more complicated. I knew I had to tell my parents, but I didn’t know how.

    Did you figure it out? 

    Angela: Yeah. One Saturday, while my parents were in the living room, I told them about my decision to stop attending church because I wasn’t a Christian anymore. My mum kept asking me questions, but my dad was dead silent. When I’d finished answering my mum, my dad just said to me, “Service is by 8 a.m. tomorrow,” and he stood up and left. 

    I knew he would be difficult, but I didn’t expect him to take it as severely as he did. We were supposed to watch the 10 o’clock news together that day, but he didn’t come out of his room. 

    The next day was church, and I refused to wake up on time. At around 7:30 a.m., my mum knocked on my room door to tell me it was time to leave. I ignored her. She came two more times until my dad showed up. He was so angry, he kept screaming at me, and I shouted back. We’d never been like that before. Our temper was usually reserved for other people, but that day? We let each other have it. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: She Chose Jesus Over Me

    That sounds stressful

    Angela: It was. After we finished shouting at each other, he told me he didn’t want to see me in his house when he returned from church, and that his house won’t be a den for immoral people. 

    I’d lived in that house for 25 years, and he suddenly kicked me out because I didn’t want to attend church. A part of me didn’t want to leave because, at first, I thought he was bluffing. But nobody knew my dad better than me, so I knew he was dead serious. 

    So you left? 

    Angela: Before they came back from church, I’d packed whatever belongings I felt mattered into my car and driven to my friend’s house. I dropped their key for them. My mum called me a lot that day. When I refused to answer, she started calling my siblings. They told me I shouldn’t have left and begged me to return. But my dad didn’t call, and I didn’t either. 

    Even though I was annoyed by their decision, I got them a cleaner who’d stay in the house 24/7 because I still didn’t want them to live alone.

    Wow. Did he ever reach out? 

    Angela: No. I’d call my mum and speak to the cleaner, but he never talked to me. Initially, I would ask them to put him on the call, but he never agreed. Then, I stopped asking. One day, my mum called me to say he’d been rushed to the hospital, that he woke up and wasn’t breathing correctly. He’d had COVID the year before, and apparently, it did some significant damage to his lungs. 

    My other siblings were out of the country, so I was the only one keeping shifts in the clinic. I’d sleep on an uncomfortable chair and cry every day because, even though I hated his guts for throwing me out, he was still my dad. When he eventually got better, he still refused to talk to me directly. I was so annoyed because he didn’t even say he was sorry or tell me thank you. 

    I think that was when I realised I’d lost my dad. My mum says he misses me, but is proud, but I don’t care anymore. If he’d rather have a Christian than a daughter, then so be it. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: There’s Not Much I Need My Father For Now

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • Sunken Ships: There’s Not Much I Need My Father For Now

    Tobi* loved their dad. They were the best of friends and did everything together. But things changed and they started to fight too much, until Tobi felt the only solution was to put as much distance between them as possible. 

    How would you describe your relationship with your dad growing up? 

    Tobi: My dad and I were super close when I was younger. We used to wear “and co” and read the books he liked as a child. We always had something to talk about. Everyone around us knew how close we were. If anyone did anything to me, I’d go report to my dad. I trusted him a lot. 

    What changed? 

    Tobi: Entering JS 1 in 2009. Growing up, I was never made to do things like wash my own clothes and sweep. Being thrown into boarding school was hard. He could tell I was going through a lot, but he didn’t want to do anything about it. It seemed like a very wicked choice to me. 

    With the amount of time I spent around my classmates, we would share experiences of our family lives. I soon realised there were some things my dad did I casually dismissed because they seemed normal. It wasn’t always like that, but something changed once I entered secondary school. 

    He would passive-aggressively preach about me. He always complained I was too quiet, and he took my quietness as anger. Every time we prayed in the house, he kept trying to “deliver” me from anger. Then, there were the strange punishments — he would tell me to kneel in a wardrobe knowing fully well I hate the dark, or fast compulsorily, or lock me in my room. 

    During holidays, I’d try to avoid everyone by spending a lot of time in my room, hiding. If I wasn’t in my room, there’d be something he’d berate or punish me for. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: My Cousin Grew Up

    How was it like when you finally graduated from secondary school? 

    Tobi: It got worse. I didn’t get admission to the university because I was too young, so I spent some time doing tutorials for exams. In the lessons I attended, there were these boys from our church who I occasionally hung out with. Once that started, my dad complained about people seeing me talk to boys. It escalated to the point of him slapping me because they walked me home. It was tiring because he never treated any of my younger siblings like this. I was the bearer of everyone’s mistakes, and I took all his anger. 

    How did he treat your siblings?

    Tobi: As the eldest child, whatever they did was somehow my fault. Even if I wasn’t present or aware. Plus, he was always kinder in the way he spoke to them. Sure, he hit them, but he always hit me harder. 

    That’s why when I got into university in 2017, the one thing I pushed for was my own place off-campus. Living in the hostel meant you’d have to go home once school closes. I put a lot of distance between us, and it helped that he didn’t try to force me back. He never looked for or tried to see me in school. The few times he called, I’d tune him out. His voice became white noise. 

    That sounds better 

    Tobi: It was. Everything was going great until the pandemic started in 2020. With the lockdown, there was already a lot of mental strain we were going through as a society. It broke my spirit, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to talk to my dad about my mental health and how I felt depressed. His response was to pray it away. 

    It felt like he was trying to use God to punish me. Whenever I did something he didn’t like, he’d try to pray or fast the problem away. It was ridiculous. Then, he tried to convince me that locing my hair was somehow responsible for why my life is the way it is, that God was angry with me. It really affected my relationship with God. 

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: She Chose Jesus Over Me

    I’m so sorry 

    Tobi: After he got tired of shouting at me, he started to hit me. It made me realise I’d never have a proper relationship with my dad. He’s destroyed everything that could’ve been used as a bridge. 

    As the lockdown restrictions eased, I got a remote job that allowed me to still pursue my degree. I moved to live with a friend and didn’t step foot in the house for a year. Then, on the 30th of December (2020), I went to pick up some clothes and left the house for another year. 

    What about now? 

    Tobi: I’ve been spending more time at home now. I haven’t moved out yet because I can’t afford to, but I do try to leave the house whenever I can. Currently, I haven’t stepped foot there in two months. It’s from friend’s house to friend’s house. Finishing school and getting a job reduced the amount of control he had over me. So there’s not much I need him for. 

    What about your mum and siblings? Do you miss them? 

    Tobi: I do miss them, but there’s no amount of missing them that’ll make up for how terrible I’d feel if I lived with them. I’m choosing myself. My siblings have a better relationship with him than I do, so they’re fine. I check in on them regularly. 

    Have you ever tried to talk to him about how you feel? 

    Tobi: Recently, I asked him if he knew he was harder on me than any of his other children, and he said he did know. He felt I was going to spoil, so he had to prevent it. Funny because I still spoil las las, but that’s his own. I didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.

    RELATED: Sunken Ships: I Didn’t Expect Our Relationship to End This Way

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • QUIZ: Are You Your Father’s Child?

    You must want to find out if you’re your father’s child. Take this quiz and we’ll tell you.

    Prisca

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  • I Feel The Most Fulfilled When I’m Cooking — Man Like Rotimi Alabi

    What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Today’s Man Like is Rotimi Alabi, a 29-year old Afro-Asian fusion chef. He talks about his mother’s influence on his decision to become a chef, how his father’s absence helped him define masculinity on his own terms and how sibling favouritism drove him to independence.

    rotimi alabi

    What was growing up like?

    My dad was mostly absent because he had another family, and we didn’t get to see much of him. My mom raised my sister and me, for the most part. My sister and I looked alike, but we couldn’t be more different. She’s more of a “Naija” babe while I mostly consume foreign content. She’s not very adventurous with food, but I love trying new foods. 

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    What was growing up with your mum like?

    Due to my father’s absence, I have a very strong bond with my mum. She’d come back from work all tired and still go through my homework with me. She also made me interested in reading books.

    Our bond meant that my mum talked to me a lot. She confided in me about everything. She told me stuff about her life experiences that a seven-year-old had no business knowing. Though she didn’t mean any harm, this meant that I matured too quickly because she burdened me with issues that I was too young for. It made my childhood really short because it made me start to think differently too early.  

    Did you feel the absence of your father?

    Not really. He wasn’t exactly absent; he just spent more time with his other family. His presence came with a tense atmosphere. He was a dictator, so my sister and I were really afraid of him. As kids, when we heard his car at the gate, we’d run to our rooms and pretend to be asleep. We avoided him most of the time but when he was in a good mood, he was fun to be around. Because I was close to my mum and two of my cousins lived with us, I didn’t miss him much.

    Were you dependent on your mum?

    No. I read something recently about how over-independence is a trauma response, and I think that’s what’s up with me because I’m incredibly independent. When I was a kid, I’d ask my mum for things I wanted — a new toy or some gadget I wanted. More often than not, I got “no” for an answer. Conversely, when my sister asked for the same things, she’d get them instantly. Every time I brought it up, they’d say, “You know she’s a girl. We have to make sure she gets everything she wants so she’s not enticed by a predator.” While I understand that sentiment, it didn’t change that I felt cheated all the time. These experiences made me draw into myself, and I became a recluse as a teenager.

    At 17, I entered UNILAG to study botany, and for the first time in my life, I felt a sense of freedom. This, however, came with an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I realised that if I wanted to call the shots, I had to be ready for the consequences of my actions.

    So, botany…

    LMAO. That, I did not plan. Another thing I didn’t plan was to become a cook/chef. I  was with my mum in the kitchen a lot. I’d watch her meal prep meticulously and cook meals. I’d steal a slice of tomato or a chunk of dried fish. Sometimes, she’d scold me, other times, we’d laugh about it. These experiences made me realise that I really enjoyed being in the kitchen. I was eight when I cooked for the first time. I tried to cook fried rice. My God, what a disaster that was — the rice was too soft, there was too much curry, everything was wrong. I thought I’d never cook again. But I continued to observe my mother while she did.  

    I also had an aunt who liked to cook new dishes. I’d go to her house on Sundays to watch her cook and ask questions. Then I watched a lot of cooking shows and studied cookbooks religiously. I was obsessed with cooking and just couldn’t stop trying to learn more.

    Before I was 10, I knew the three things that were the core passions in my life — cooking, fashion and media. I later worked in fashion, but I found out quickly that it is a brutal industry. I was betrayed by people, and some still owe me for jobs. I’d much rather not work in fashion unless I’m doing so on my own terms. I also worked in media for a while. But of the three, I’ve found that I feel the most fulfilled when I’m cooking. I love it when I create dishes and people love it. Watching someone getting wowed by something I cooked is intensely gratifying. No matter how tired I am,  I’m always in the mood to cook because I know that whatever I’m making is going to make someone happy. Perhaps, it appeals to the eight-year-old in me.

    When did you decide you wanted to become a chef?

    I didn’t think I was going to make cooking my profession because I thought it would take the joy away. One day, a friend of mine, Lade, tasted my food and she pushed me to start cooking commercially. Whenever she had an office event, she’d ask me to make meals and pay me for them. In 2018, she recommended me to a co-worker for a party they were planing. It went really well, and so I thought, “Maybe I could do this for a living.”

    How do people react when they find out you cook?

    I think the most common one is where people say, “Oh, you’re a chef? Come and dash me food.” No, I won’t. Other people hear that I’m a chef and ask me if I can really cook or if I’m just a poser. But I don’t have anything to prove to them. If they want me to prove anything to them, they should order my food.

    LMAO. Would you say your career defines your identity?

    No. When I became a chef, my identity was already solid. I knew who I was. Being a chef is just an extra facet of my personality. I’m simply a guy who can cook, not the guy who cooks. There’s a lot more to me than my profession.

    Interesting. What kind of person are you in relationships?

    I tend to put the other person first, even ahead of myself. I’m the kind of person that carries people on my head, especially in friendships. It all ties into my idea of what it means to be a man.

    What does being a man mean to you?

    To be a man means to be dependable emotionally, mentally, financially and physically. When I got into uni was the first time I realised I was a man. It means to be responsible and above all, have sense. Don’t be unfortunate. 

    What’s something you splurge money on shamelessly?

    Perfumes. I currently have 32 perfumes in my collection. My best friend must not catch me saying this, but I can spend my last dime on perfumes. I also like spending money on my friends.

    I’d like to be your friend.

    LMAO. Maybe one day. 

    I’ll take that as a yes.

    LMAO.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Like series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    Olufemi Fadahunsi

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  • 9 Nigerians Talk About Their Favourite Things About Their Fathers

    On most Father’s Days, we’re often drowned in the deluge of stories about fathers and their failings. For this year’s Father’s Day, I wanted people to talk about their favourite things about their fathers. I hope these stories warm your heart as much as they warmed mine.

    Dupe

    My favourite thing about my dad is that he’s always there to support me, even when I make mistakes. I recently had a revenge porn issue with my ex-boyfriend and my dad was super supportive. He had the guy picked up and dealt with and he didn’t judge me at all. He just listened and gave me advice. me. We might fall out sometimes but I’m always glad he’s my father.

    Damilola

    The relationship with my Dad isn’t so great because I’m not the ideal child. I’m always getting into trouble and most times, I disappoint him. Despite this, he’s always there for me, no matter what I’ve done. He shows up for me when I get in trouble, time and time again. He probably thinks I hate him or I’m spoilt but I really do love him and I hope I can get the opportunity to tell him how much he means to me. Our conversations these days are usually him complaining about something I’ve done but one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell him.

    Sonia

    My favourite thing about my dad is him calling him his little princess. I don’t let anyone call me a princess or anything, but I’m his princess, for real.

    Alma

    My dad just died in January. I think the most amazing thing about him was his big heart. He’d give everything to see the next person happy and strong. There’s this one time I was sick and I needed to be treated abroad. He was also pretty sick, but he gave up all the money just so I’d get treated by the best doctors. 

    Tola

    My dad is my best friend. As far back as nursery school, he’s always been involved in our lives. He’s not the conventional dad who just pays school fees and ghosts. He remembers and buys us gifts on our birthdays, checks in on our academics and even cooks for us. When I failed JAMB and GCE, he didn’t get mad or even tell me my result in order not to let it depress me. He’s very intentional about our lives and I couldn’t ask for a better father.

    When Divorced Fathers Are Estranged From Adult Children

    Rotimi

    My favourite thing about my dad is his huge sense of duty and responsibility. He is dependable, not just to his immediate family. He taught me that it’s very possible to be best friends with your wife even into old age. He’s the one that (still) shows up at the stepping down spots; if he was heading out in the evening, he would always ask her if she wanted to come along. I’ve never heard him yell at my mum or hurl an insult at her. A role model in that regard.

    Johnson

    My dad is an OG.  He knows what he wants and goes for it. We’ve not had the best relationship, which is mostly my fault, but I know I can always count on him.

    Betini

    It’s my dad’s sense of humour, for me. He can turn anything into a joke, no matter how bad it is.  He might shout at me and piss me off, but he breaks into a laugh right after and you’re thinking, “this man is not serious.” Even when you think you’re angry with him, you can’t stay mad for long because by the time he says something and starts laughing, you’ll not see the point of staying angry sef.

    Matthew

    My dad’s a lecturer in my department and the one thing I really like is his ability to balance his work-son relationship. He’s my gist partner when I want to talk about women despite being one of the strictest lecturers I know.

    [donation]

    Are you a man who would like to be interviewed for a Zikoko article? Fill this form and we’ll be in your inbox quicker than you can say “Man Dem.”

    Olufemi Fadahunsi

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  • Observing My Dad Showed Me That People Express Affection Differently — Man Like Moboluwaduro

    What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up.

    “Man Like” is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

    The subject of today’s “Man Like” is Moboluwaduro, a doctor. He talks to us about his plans to spoil his mum and struggling to pay his first house rent. Additionally, he tells us how observing his dad showed him that people express affection differently.

    When did you get your “Man now” moment?

    I feel like I’ve generally been privileged because I wasn’t rushed into becoming “a man”. When I finished my first degree in Basic medical science, I went back to medical school. In a way, I kept asking myself if I was going to medical school because I wanted to be a doctor or if I wanted to be shielded a little more from growing up. 

    The first time I got hit with the reality of being a man was when I finished housemanship — a compulsory one year service medical graduates undergo in the hospital. I suddenly went from having a well-paying job and a hospital-provided apartment to hustling for a job and trying to figure out how to pay rent. 

    That’s when the bubble burst. 

    For the duration of my housemanship, I’d saved up ₦500,000 to rent an apartment in Lagos. After going around for two to three weeks, it dawned on me that I had fucked up. As someone who’s always prepared for anything, I was rudely shocked when I realised that my one-year savings couldn’t pay rent. 

    When my eyes cleared, I SOSed my mum and was like, “Mummy, send help.” Through the efforts of my mum, combined with a loan from a friend is how I eventually paid the rent of my first apartment.

    Damn. 

    I didn’t have money for furnishing after I moved in, so my sitting room was empty. Thankfully, I got a job. An aunt here came through, another friend here came through, and I was finally able to set up the house. It took me nine months to find my feet. The post housemanship phase was a life-changing event that showed me “real life.”

    I’m sorry.

    Nah, it’s fine. I’ve come a long way from then, and while I’m not a pro at this adulting business, I remind myself that I’m not doing badly. At least I stay in my own apartment and I now pay my rent without any assistance. LMAO. 

    LOL. What did you learn from your house-hunting experience? 

    House-hunting in Lagos teaches you how challenging it is to be a young adult in Nigeria. How can it be legal for landlords to expect you to have almost a million naira to pay rent for like two years? When you compare other countries where rent is monthly versus our lump-sum system, you start to see how cruel the system is on young people trying to find their feet. 

    I also learnt that there’s mad corruption in this country. If a professional who’s supposed to be relatively comfortable is struggling, it shows that cost of living doesn’t match income levels. I suspect that illegal money in the possession of a select few has inflated housing costs and made life more difficult for honest earners. 

    The whole house hunting experience made me feel poor and helpless. I kept asking, “How do people who don’t earn as much as doctors fare?”

    Bro! Does this reality scare you? 

    Yes, it does. There’s the worry that people may come for you because they feel you’re better off than them. 

    I’m actually scared of being outside my house past 7 p.m. I grew up in the relatively sleepy town of Ijebu-Ode where 7:30 p.m. counted as getting home late. And I also grew up hearing about how unsafe Lagos was. Add low income and high cost of living to my fears, and suddenly, my anxiety makes sense. 

    I feel you. Do you have any other fears?

    I’m scared of my mum dying before I have enough time to do big man things for her. I do things for her in my own little way, but I want to really spoil her; I want her to ask for x amount while I send her 3x the amount. 

    Energy oh. 

    Lool. My mum has been there for me every step of the way and has supported me through everything I’ve done in life. No one can want good for you more than your parents. There’s nothing I’ve asked my mum for that she didn’t find a way to provide. 

    If my mother saved all the money she spent on her children, she’d probably be a multimillionaire by now. That’s why I won’t feel accomplished until I can properly spoil her. 

    Love it. Do you feel the same way about your dad?

    My dad is reserved and a man of few words. Also, he was constantly shuttling between Ijebu-Ode and Lagos for work, so this made conversations sparse. I guess it’s easier to gush about my mum because we spent a lot of our formative years with her. 

    Overall, I’m not worried because my mum takes care of my dad. Taking care of her guarantees I’m also taking care of my dad. 

    Neat. Did your dad’s reserved attitude have any impact on the type of man you grew up to become?

    As reserved as my dad is, I know he’ll give me a kidney if I need one. I remember that every Sunday, my dad would put us on his laps and cut our fingernails and toenails. He’d also never finish his food without giving the kids meat from his plate. I came to understand that he wasn’t cold, but just affectionate in his own way. I mean it’d have been nicer if he was more expressive with his emotions, but I understand that he’s a product of his upbringing. 

    I like to think that I’m an antithesis of my dad because I wear my emotions on my sleeves. 

    Observing my father showed me that the fact that someone doesn’t express themselves the way you want doesn’t necessarily mean they’re cold. It just means that they show love differently. 

    How does wearing your emotions on your sleeves play out for you?

    It’s going quite well. Being myself has allowed me to attract like-minded people. With my friends — both male and female — I try to be vocal about my feelings. I don’t want to die and my friends are unsure about how I feel about them. I understand this behaviour is definitely not what society expects of me as a man, but I’m an open book. I’m now 30+, it’s too late to fight who I am. 

    Do people tell you to act like a man/man up?

    I used to hear it a lot while I was growing up. One of the beauties of adulthood is that growing older gives you a tougher skin and the words people say have less power to hurt you. 

    You have to be unapologetically who you are. You must not allow someone’s opinion or definition of who you are hold you back. 

    Mum, Dad, I hope you’re reading this?

    Lol.

    How do you define your masculinity?

    I don’t. I like to believe that I’m self-aware enough to be my own person. This knowledge is why I don’t subscribe to certain notions of masculinity. 

    I cry when I get frustrated. Some people see crying as a sign of weakness, but I’ve found that crying helps me relieve frustrations. Crying doesn’t stop me from pursuing my goals because as I’m crying, I’m still putting one leg in front of the other. 

    I feel like I’m a complete person, so I don’t bother putting labels and expectations on masculinity. 

    Interesting. What do you think is different about being a man in Nigeria?

    Your recognition as a man is tied to your ability to provide. If you can’t do that, you’re not counted as a man. If you have money, your experience as a man in Nigeria is 70% easier because everyone respects and treats you differently. I think this is the reason why men spiral when they get into situations where they can no longer provide. They understand, subconsciously, what’s at stake. 

    I’m curious about your role models for what it means to be a man.

    Weirdly enough, I don’t think I have anyone. All in all, I always want to be a nicer and better model of my previous self.  I know the things I want and I’m always open to change, so I don’t put any one person on a pedestal. I add and remove from people’s traits as I find them useful to me.

    To be honest, the only “role model” I want to be is to be successful. After all, people say that money is the bicycle of the gospel. 

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the “Man Like” series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    [donation]

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • Can Men Really Be Stay At Home Dads? – Man Like Pelumi

    What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up.

    “Man Like” is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to ‘be a man’ from the perspective of the subject of the week.

    The subject of today is Pelumi, a pharmacist and a tutor. He talks about his great relationship with his dad, how his strained relationship with his mum affects his romantic relationship and why men can’t really choose to be stay at home dads. 

    When did you first  realise that you were a man? 

    I was 16. 

    I cut my brother’s hair with scissors so my dad beat me. I remember he told me that actions have consequences. That incident made me wonder if I’d ever become a responsible person. I was afraid. Like how would I be doing this and one day, I’d be called daddy. I realised that a man has to be responsible because there’s no other choice and it informed my idea of what it means to be a man. 

    Interesting. 

    I thank God for the beatings and talk because I for don spoil. It’s wild that all the beating no pass wetin Folake do me.

    Who’s that?

    Folake! The first girl that chopped my eye.

    Lmao. What? 

    Folake was the first person I loved. I was in secondary school and before her, I had only crushed on people. 

    We had a lot in common: we attended the same church, we both had landlines in our houses and we knew the same people. I remember flashing her landline and quickly cutting it. I also remember texting her with my dad’s phone and deleting the messages after. Thinking about it, I’m sure my dad knew, but he never said anything. 

    Folake made me happy to attend church. Whenever she entered the church, my heart would start to beat fast. The love was so strong, I wrote letters to her talking about my feelings. 

    I—

    But Folake had another person writing her better letters in church. And he was my guy.

    Alexa, play “Big Boys Don’t Cry.”

    For some context, her dad is a retired soldier, so this limited my access to her. My guy was her family friend [or so I thought], so he didn’t have this restriction; baba just kept firing well-written letters.

    It was even later when we stopped talking because she left the country that I found out about the letters. My guy just casually dropped it in a conversation, and I had to act normal. 

    Lmao.

    To be honest, I wasn’t mad. The guy fine pass me and his parents had more money — who am I? 

    Dead. 

    Folake, it was worth it and I don’t blame you. It’d have been nice if you had just told me.

    Don’t kill me. Did your outlook on relationships change after the Folake incident? 

    To be honest, the experience with Folake didn’t change me like that. This sounds funny now, but I was hurt when it happened. 

    As I grow older, one of the things I look out for in a relationship is loyalty. I look for people that’ll go a hundred percent for me because I’ll do the same for them. 

    That’s one of the things that attracted me to my current babe. She’s my stan; like I am the best thing that has happened to her. Sometimes it doesn’t even make sense, but it means a lot to me and makes me want to be a better person. 

    When there’s a hundred percent trust and loyalty in spite of my shortcomings, it gingers me to correct them. 

    I’m not so sure that Folake had that. 

    Again. Dead. I’m curious about your relationship with your dad these days.

    My dad is my hero. If something happens to my dad right now, I’m not sure how much of life I’d be able to live. I’m not ready to let him go right now. 

    See, my father is different.

    People tell me I’m different, and it’s not surprising because I am my father’s son. My father walks the talk. My father stopped drinking alcohol after my first birthday. His reason was that he wouldn’t be able to stop me from drinking if I grew up watching him drink.  

    Another trait he has is his non-judgemental way of correcting me: in secondary school, I was going to be suspended, but my father stood for me. He defended me in front of the authorities but when we stepped out, my father told me: “I know you did it, but this is not who you are.”

    That was the end. My dad never raised it up again, he never beat me for it. It’s wild because this was an offence that he should have shot me for. 

    What was it?

    An offence.

    Fair enough.

    Anyway, that’s how my father is. He has that whole “this is who you are” mantra. Sometimes, I liken it to the way God sees us. God calls us as we are despite the shortcomings because he believes that we can become our ideal selves. 

    I’m in awe of my dad, so I can’t understand why fathers aren’t celebrated. And I’m not even talking about Father’s Day or something. I also understand that it’s not like that for everybody.

    I can’t afford to be less of a father or husband. My relationship with my dad is deep and it’s something I’m confident about. 

    I hope that when the opportunity to repay my dad comes, I don’t do the opposite because he doesn’t deserve anything less than a hundred percent loyalty from me. 

    Profound. When was the first time you realised you were acting like your dad?

    One of my dad’s key traits is forgiveness. One time, I had a terrible fight with my only sibling [brother] where I had every right to be angry. I was so hurt that I was carrying it inside of me. My dad, my brother and I have a WhatsApp group where I just expressed how I felt.

    I was like: “You’re my brother so this fight doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m hurt and angry, but I let it go.” That was when I knew I was my father’s child. 

    I believe that nothing is too much to let go of when a particular relationship is important to me.

    Interesting. Does anything scare you?

    I’m scared that my dad will die before I’m able to give him the best. I’m also scared that I’ll not be half the man that my dad is. If I can be half the man he is, my wife and kids will enjoy. 

    Hmmm… What’s your relationship with your mum like?

    Ah. My God. If there’s something I’m sad about, this is it. I’m not very happy about it and I’d rather not talk about it. All I’ll say is that it affects my romantic relationship a lot.

    Oh. 

    It’s a struggle to not project some of the difficulties I have with mum on my relationship. I’m always hyper-aware and any trait that I’ve seen before [in my mum], I’m quick to react to it. It’s hard because it puts me in a place where I start comparing similarities. 

    At the end of the day, I think I need therapy on that side.

    I’m sorry. What gives you joy?

    Helping people makes me happy. The opportunity to ease someone’s pain especially when it’s money related is very satisfying. Because I’ve been a recipient of kindness in the past and it’s satisfying to be able to pay kindness forward. 

    Like when I lost my brother…

    Wait, what? 

    Yeah…When I lost my brother, people I had just met in NYSC camp contributed money for the burial arrangements. I know how receiving kindness feels and that’s why I help others. It doesn’t matter if they know that I  helped them or not. I also like to be dependable; for my people to know that they can rely on me.

    Mahn. Who helps the helper? How do you get through difficult times? 

    I don’t think I have ever been in that place where there’s someone that can’t help me. I don’t believe that because you help people, there’s nobody to help you. It has never happened to me and I hope it never does. When I’m going through things, I reach out to friends and even some strangers.

    I’ve learnt that people who help others struggle with asking for help. However, the older I get, the more I realise that I’m not alone. This has humbled me enough to reach out even though I know everyone is going through things. I have friends for different issues so that I don’t overwhelm one person. 

    I’m grateful for people because I think human beings are the greatest asset anybody can have. My prayer is to always be humble enough to remember that I’m not alone — especially when I’m going through a difficult phase — because difficulties make us feel like we are alone.

    I feel you. Do people tell you to “act like a man?”

    I can’t relate. I grew up learning to express myself, own my mistakes and make corrections. However, I don’t think it’s wrong to be strong as a human being because adversity can build character.

    Cool. Is there something that has threatened your idea of what it means to be a man?

    Ọmọ na relationship oh my brother. 

    Since we are now having conversations about equality, I’m beginning to see things. This whole idea of “being a man” self, what’s the point? A man is expected to choose his nuclear family over his own family that he grew up with. However [many times], when you switch the roles, you’ll start hearing crickets on the women’s side. 

    You’re told that you can’t choose your mother or father over your wife, but is it like that for women?

    Also, what if I want to be a stay at home dad? Attend PTAs and take care of the kids? It begs the question: How much of this can the woman I want to marry accept? Let’s be honest, if you don’t make something out of yourself, no woman will love you. Forget all that come as you are talk. 

    The expectation as a man is that you’re meant to bear the entire burden. I  really don’t want to bear the burden because I’m a man. It should be because I want to not because I have to. I have seen men sacrifice so much and not receive anything in return. 

    See, I’d like to be a plant instead.

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the “Man Like” series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • 11 Things Only A Daddy’s Girl Can Relate To

    If you grew up with your dad being the best thing since they invented Canadian PR, this post is for you.

    1) When your mum says no, you always run to meet your dad.

    Hehehe.

    2) Your mum’s face whenever she sees your dad indulging you.

    Don’t jealous me pls.

    3) Your dad whenever you are sick:

    4) After a bad day and you see your dad:

    5) You try your best to never disappoint your dad.

    Daddy, I’ll always make you proud of me.

    6) You have cute nicknames for each other.

    “My princess,” and other variants.

    7) No matter what, your dad can’t say no.

    And you know it. And sometimes, exploit it.

    8) Even when you’re broke as an adult, he’s still got your back.

    Just call him and do ‘small’ complain about not having money and alert has entered.

    9) Your face when he cracks a joke:

    Even if it’s not funny.

    10) Your reaction when someone insults your dad:

    11) Your reaction in primary school when someone beat you:

    “I will tell my daddy for you.”

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • A Week In The Life: Jumia Delivery Agent By Day, Family Man By Night

    “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.

    Jumia delivery agent

    The subject for today’s A Week In The Life is Micheal, a Jumia delivery agent. He walks us through combining being a delivery agent with fatherhood. In his words: “fatherhood is an indescribable experience.”

    MONDAY:

    Every day, I wake up before 6 am. I live at Iyana Ipaja, so that means I need to wake up early to beat the traffic. When we were living a fake life (during lockdown), I noticed that the journey to my office at Opebi that usually takes hours is actually not more than 20 minutes. Lagos no go kill person. 

    The first thing I do when I get to work today is to load my consignment. I take stock of all the goods I have to deliver for the day. Between 8:00 am and 8:30 am, I should be leaving the office to start the delivery for the day.

    Everyone has the area that they are covering, but I don’t have a specific zone. I cover everywhere. People like us help augment the delivery work of people who cover fixed zones especially on days that they need more hands. People like me are versatile; we have to know all the routes. I might go to GRA on Monday, Magodo on Tuesday.

    The job is all about passion. It can be challenging at first having to know all the routes, but in the long run, it becomes a plus for you. This is because, for people who have specific routes if they don’t have packages, they aren’t going out for that day. But, for we that are versatile, to a large extent, we are certain that we’ll work every day. 

    It’s important for me to set out early every day because this job is a race against time. I try to finish all my deliveries early enough so that I can go home to help out. Part of my daily routine is bathing my kids before they go to bed – this bonding time is very very precious to me.

    After loading and checking my goods for the day, I quickly set out to begin deliveries.

    TUESDAY:

    Since the lockdown started, I have been taking the delivery van home. In the past, I’d drop it at the office because of how far my house is. It was easier and more convenient to take public transport because of the holdup. After driving in Lagos all day, I couldn’t sit in more holdup. 

    However, for this period of the pandemic, it’s been convenient taking the van home. Believe you me, it’s better and safer that way. At least, I avoid taking public transport and being exposed to Covid-19. My wife is a caterer and does her job from home. I also have three kids and they are home all day. So, I can’t afford to infect anyone of them and that’s why I avoid public transport.

    Covid-19 has changed the game. The company I work for has been proactive towards the virus. They have provided safety measures like gloves, masks, and they’ve even facilitated contactless delivery where we limit contact with customers – because we don’t know who is who.

    Today, a customer saw me well kitted and they were pleased. They were initially scared because delivery men visit so many places. On seeing me well kitted, they relaxed. 

    Jumia Delivery agent

    After I am done for the day, I head home. My kids are excited to see me and they show it by shouting Kpanika; their mum calls me that. Kpanika means first son in Calabar language and I find it funny whenever they call me that. I go over to assist their mum who’s helping them with their assignment.

    I don’t know how she copes all day with very hyperactive kids. Any time I spend a full day with them, I realise that the job she’s doing is very stressful. In fact, words can’t express the kind of job she does. Believe you me, it’s higher than any office job – the responsibility of taking care of kids.

    WEDNESDAY:

    Part of the little joys of this job is helping a customer to resolve issues because the joy also radiates to you. As delivery guys, our motto is delivering happiness. There’s nothing like seeing the joy of helping a customer who is having difficulty ordering an item or getting a refund. One customer I’ll never forget was a woman I met during our Black Friday last year. There was this promo on rice; the price was so cheap that customers didn’t believe it. So, there was this mama who looks 60+ that got one of the deals and she was very very sceptical. When I got to her house and she saw the rice, she was extremely happy. So happy that she asked for a picture. Luckily, there was someone around to take our photo – I can never forget that incident.

    Those are the good days, but today is not a good day.

    Coming into work today, I’ve had it rough. This work requires passion and charisma to tackle your own challenges while still spreading joy.

    My manager says I have to go to a challenging route today. From all the stories I’ve heard about the route, I know that if I go, it’ll be a problem. There is parking space wahala inherent in this place and believe you me, I may not take it easy with anyone who challenges me over parking today. I walk up to my manager and explain to him the issue. With the morning I’ve had, I can’t face the challenges of that route. 

    He calls it quits.

    He then re-assigns me to another route for the day. For this job, you need to be mentally and psychologically balanced for the day. You are meeting different people from the drivers to law enforcement agents, to customers. So, you need to coordinate yourself well.

    I need today to end already. After work, I’m attending a church program online that may help with my mood. It’s a men’s program that’s dear to my heart – It is aimed at positioning you as the real man God has made you to be. The program teaches us how to be adjusted emotionally, financially, spiritually. This is so that you can have an impact on your family. 

    I don’t like missing the program for anything.

    THURSDAY:

    One thing with doing delivery in Lagos is understanding the road network. Once you understand this, you’ll not have timing issues that delivery guys are known for.

    You need to understand what time you’re supposed to be at a place, what time you aren’t supposed to because of hold up. It’s all about arranging your movement to beat the holdup; you need to drive against traffic all the time. If not, at every point in time, you’ll be stuck in traffic. It’s all about being professional with your work. 

    If you have properly planned your work, you can always plan when you’ll get to a particular point. Then, you can give customers a fixed time. Your only issue may now be customers. 

    Most customers think they are the only one you are dealing with and you can’t take that away from them. It’s now up to you to explain that you’ll be with them within this specific time and they should kindly be available. This is because you’ve limited time to spend with them as a customer. If a delivery person is spending much time with you and spending more time with another customer, how much ground do they want to cover for the day?

    If every customer he met before you took much of his time, he might not have been able to get to you. So, customers should also do everything they need to do so that the delivery is as quick as possible. The delivery is structured in such a way that the customer has been notified as early in the day as possible. So, if it’s money they want to get ready or make arrangements for someone to pick, these should be done before the delivery person gets there. 

    The delivery person has already allocated a particular amount of time per stop and if there’s any delay, they may start to become impatient.

    Before I go about my deliveries today, I listen to music to relax. I love listening to R n B and gospel. I just love good music; I love Lionel Richie, Luther Vandross. These are the artistes that keep me going on this job.

    FRIDAY:

    One of the hazards of this job is that customers can pass on aggression. As a delivery person, you don’t pack the goods and you aren’t also permitted to check the goods. So, what happens is that if customers get the wrong item, it’s you they’ll shout at. 

    And you have to remain professional.

    Like today, I delivered a shoe to a customer. After the customer had paid, they found out that it was a brown shoe instead of a black shoe. All I could do was listen as the customer took out their frustrations on me. After they had calmed down, I then proposed a way for us to resolve the issue. Thankfully, we have channels for resolving issues like this as we have envisaged a list of scenarios and provided solutions. 

    After reassuring the customer of a refund, I left to finish my other deliveries.

    In this job, it’s important not to take work matter home or bring home matter to work if you don’t want chaos. I no longer get angry because I’m used to this. 

    Once I get home and eat my favourite meal of plantain and egg, I’ll forget all about today.

    SATURDAY:

    The first thing my children ask me when they wake up is: “daddy are you going to work today?” I tell them nooooo and that I am all theirs. I spend most of my weekend’s bonding with my family. I don’t keep friends – all I do is alternate between work, family, and church.

    My children want us to watch cartoons, they want me to recite hymns to them, they also want to jump on me. For the cartoons, I put on their favourite cartoon which is PJ mask. 

    For the recital, I stylishly redirect them to go meet their mum because I don’t know all these songs; It’s their mum that knows them. I also help out with their assignments. I wonder what kind of assignments these schools give these days – is it for the kids or for the parents?

    It’s fun being with them sha. At least when they’re not jumping on me.

    Being a father is a big deal for me particularly because I have twins. There’s this plus having twins as a parent – the joy of being a father can’t be put in words – especially when you have active kids without any health challenges.

    Jumia Delivery agent

    Infact, it gives me joy. Today is a good day.

    SUNDAY:

    In regular times, we’d attend the second service at church. As a bachelor, it’s easy to go for the first service, but when you are married, it’s harder. Between the interval it takes to get the kids ready, and for wifey to get ready, the first service has ended. The second service starts at 10 am, and we’re usually done by 12.

    For now, there’s no program at church so I try to spend the day relaxing. I chase the kids out of the parlour so I can rest and listen to music. I know I can’t rest for long because they’ll still come back to disturb me. I can’t even complain because they were on their own jeje and I brought them from heaven; Na me call them come.

    I’m thinking about the future of my kids. As the day goes by, as age goes by, responsibility increases, demand increases, and we all aspire for greener pastures. Soonest, I might be taking on a program..maybe masters. But for now, that’s lying low. 

    All I can think of is the fact that I need a lot of rest to face Monday because Mondays are crazy. I hope that in the future, all my plans in the pipeline become a reality.

    For now, I’m still moving on with Jumia.

    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, don’t hesitate to reach out. Reach out to me: hassan@bigcabal.com if you want to be featured on this series.

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • 10 Nigerians Share Their Most Unforgettable Memory Of Their Dad

    There is a general consensus whenever I talk to fathers that the joy of fatherhood can’t be described and that it’s also a thankless job.

    In celebration of upcoming father’s day, and curious about it being thankless, I asked a couple of people to share the memory of their dad that sticks out. Ngl, I shed a little tear while reading some.

    Here’s what they said:

    Well, I cried.

    “The memory I have isn’t the ‘best.’

    My dad had cancer and was out of a job. The cost of his treatment was quite high, and I remember that one day, after his surgery, he went for his appointment and was told he had to do some tests. The cost of everything was quite high; almost 100k back then. I also remember both of us standing in front of the hospital with tears in his eyes.

    I didn’t see him cry when he got the diagnosis, or when he went for surgery. It was shocking to see him struggling with tears in front of me after beating the disease.

    For some reason, this is my fondest memory of him.

    I think it is because I saw him at his strongest and at his weakest at that point.

    I had the money and although it was meant for something else, I gave it to him. We both stood there and I was reassuring him, telling him we’d get the tests done – It cost about 90k.”

    My chest.

    “Well, my dad has followed me for every external exam ever: Common Entrance, Quizzes, Post Utme. Anyway, I had an exam that was supposed to be by 9 am but both of us somehow thought it was by 10.

    So, we stayed back at home to fry prawn crackers.

    After we were done, we decided to walk to school instead of taking a cab – we were joking and gossiping all the way. By the time we got there, people were wondering why we were so late. I was rushing into the exam hall and the man still tossed my prawn crackers at me and said that he trusts that I’ll finish on time so I can eat.

    I did. I came third and even got a scholarship – he was so proud and confident.”

    Who’s cutting onions behind me?

    “Well, it was a dancing competition and it was clear that I won. Rather than give me my gift, they gave it someone else. My dad was there life and direct when it happened.

    I cried and cried and cried.

    He told me to let them be. That the best person doesn’t need validation. The next day on his way back from work, he bought me the exact same gift.”

    Daddy’s girl.

    “I was sitting on his laps and picking at his beards when I was like say 7. It was ruined by my grandma sha, she came and saw me. She was like I’m too big to be doing that and I should get up. I was extremely sad when it happened.”

    Wow.

    “I once played football with him as a child. Then, as a teenager, we played game one time on my play station; this was just a few months before he died.”

    This is wholesome.

    “My fondest memory involves hiding in the back seat of my dad’s car just to follow him out. And him pretending not to notice until we were far from the house.

    I was really small so I could squeeze myself into that space between the front and back seat. You wouldn’t see me if you didn’t know where to look.

    That’s how I ended in Okene one day wearing just my primary school sportswear (vest and shorts). For context, Okene was like 2 hours away from home.”

    E for what?

    “One time we went to renew my passport, one of the customs guys asked my dad “na your pikin be this? she’s very beautiful”. And he didn’t say thank you – he said “I know”.

    Felt good like…my dad thinks I’m beautiful.”

    Sweet father, I no go forget you.

    “Well, my dad used to travel a lot. A whole lot. The only free time he had was when he’d get back from the trips early in the morning. So, he’d wake me up by 5:00 am to jog, stretch and do jumping jacks. It was not about the exercise but it was more of an opportunity for father and son bonding.

    He’s old now and has lost a lot of that youthful agility. I am scared of time and how much it takes from us. What else is it going to take from him?”

    I don’t even like kids like that but this made me reconsider.

    “My dad is a girl dad – with three daughters, he always made sure he was there every step of the way. I believe it was his way of bonding with us. It was almost as if he didn’t want to miss any part of our growing up – it may have something to do with the fact that his dad died when he was very young and this may have been his way of compensation. I don’t know for sure.

    Up until I was 18, my dad used to take me to the salon to get my hair done. One memory I’ll never forget was during Christmas when I was really young (definitely less than 10 years old). He took me to the salon and someone thought it cool to ask him why he was the one doing this (taking me to the salon, as against my mum doing it of course) and he shut her down immediately.

    I was really young, but that moment is etched in my memory.”

    Mahn.

    “My dad has passed but when I remember him, I tend to hear his voice first before I picture his face.

    I remember the nightly advice he used to give us. What I liked about him was his honesty – he talked about how many times he failed in life, his mistakes. How he treated my mum early on in the marriage. He said he wasn’t a good man then but he learned over time.

    When he started his business, he talked about attaching yourself to the people who call the shots if you’re new to an industry. He talked about them taking you under their wings and how it worked for him.

    Then he spoke about his history, his family – he loved history – he wanted us to know more about where we came from, he wanted us to go back to our hometown. He had plans but they never happened…

    At the end of everything, he’d tell us ‘don’t be scared of anything, you have my blood.’ That was his anthem and we heard it almost every day.

    Whenever I am scared, I still hear my dad’s voice telling me not to be afraid.”

    This story was edited for clarity. Some details have been changed to protect the identity of the subject.

    Image source: Pexels.com

    You should read this next: 13 Nigerian Men Share What They Wish They Knew Before Getting Married

    Hassan Yahaya

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  • 1. When you have a baby, ALL your relatives will want to give the child their own official name.

    How many names do you want my child to have? Please go away.

    2. Having kids means you now have little versions of you that you can send on pointless errands whenever you feel like.

    “Segun! Come from upstairs and give me this remote that is two inches away from my hand.”

    3. When your child gives you attitude so you have no choice but to whoop their ass.

    As a father, channel your inner Jackie Chan. As a mother, channel your inner Charlie’s Angel.

    4. But deep down it hurts you to see your child in pain but you know that if you spare the rod, you’ll spoil the child.

    My chest.

    5. This is you when you find out how much school fees are these days.

    HAAAAY!

    6. But you want the best for child so you still pay.

    Everything I do is for you, my child.

    7. When your child does well in school you’ll be like

    YAAASS! THAT IS THE SEED OF MY LOINS!!!!

    8. This will be you if you find out that your child refuses to learn anything and is failing terribly.

    What is happening???

    9. When your child becomes a teenager and starts raising shoulder for you.

    See this one sha oh.

    10. You will be happy to see your child now making friends and learning how to navigate life on their own.

    My work is almost done.

    11. But then you worry that they might join bad gang.

    God pls no.

    12. You will also worry that they are now doing “bad thing” so you’ll tell them this.

    Also, tell them if they have sex, they’ll die.

    Truth is, being a parent has a lot of ups and downs. Just look at this video

    If you enjoyed this, read this next article about the Nigerian parent’s guide to sex education.

    The Nigerian Parent’s Guide To ‘Sex Education’

    Astor George

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  • 1. When he finally scrapes enough money to buy the latest Mercedes.

    Because he has arrived!

    2. When he sees the keys to his old Peugeot, he’s like.

    Levels don change!

    3. How he ‘examines’ the car every 10 seconds.

    ‘I just want to check the engine’.

    4. You, when his friends come and he starts doing shakara with the car.

    We will not hear word again now!

    5. How he reacts when his friends want to help him test drive the car.

    ‘Impossicant!’

    6. How he starts shouting when you just touch the car small.

    See stress.

    7. When you think someone has kidnapped your dad, and you find him in the car doing nothing.

    ‘I just want to relax small’.

    8. All the different car alarms he parks to disturb the whole neighborhood.

    Too much stress.

    9. When your mum wants to use the car because her own car is faulty.

    ‘Please sir’.

    10. How he drives your mom’s car when the whole family is going to somewhere very rough and bumpy.

    ‘My own car is not kabu kabu!’

    Shola

    , , , , ,
  • Everything That Happens When Your Dad Retires

    1. When your dad announces he will be retiring to the family.

    Ah! Why now?

    2. When you wake up and your dad is still around.

    Then you remember he does not have anywhere to go because, he is now retired.

    3. When he starts asking questions about things in the house.

    Oga this is how we have been doing things since oh don’t come and scatter it!

    4. When you or your siblings ask for money, he’s like:

    Are these ones okay at all?

    5. When he is bored and is looking for something to do.

    “Maybe I should go and frustrate my children so they will marry on time.”

    6. When his fellow retirees come and visit him.

    Association of bored gentlemen.

    7. When your mother goes out and he does not know when she is coming back, he’s like:

    Poor daddy!

    8. When the person that took over his role comes to ask for some advice and help.

    He will now be feeling cool!

    9. When him and your mum decide they now want to join fitfam so they can live long.

    You people are well done!

    10. When he remembers he has to go to the pension office.

    Wicked children.

    11. When he finds a new business he can get involved in.

    No need to stay in the house with these ungrateful children again.

    12. When his frustration has worked and you now want to marry, then he remembers he has to pay.

    Which kind of wahala is this one?

    Jola Ayeye

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  • 14 Weird Ways Nigerian Parents Show That They Love You

    1. When they insult you at home but defend you in public.

    So strange.

    2. When they say “we are only beating you because we love you.”

    I don’t understand this love oh.

    3. When they call you to come and eat right after beating you.

    They have already forgiven you.

    4. When they allow you to go and take extra meat.

    THE BEST!

    5. When they still give you offering money even as an adult.

    You are still a child to them.

    6. When they always find a way to bring home food from owambes for you.

    You must eat what they ate.

    7. When your relatives try to report you to your parents and they give them:

    Just once in a while, but it’s so sweet.

    8. When they spend an eternity praying for you whenever you’re about to travel.

    They must pray for journey mercies first.

    9. When they buy you a phone that is more expensive than their own.

    They got you smartphone and they are still using 3310.

    10. When your sibling chooks mouth when they are scolding you and they turn and face them.

    They are lowkey defending you.

    11. When they start trying to play with you right after punishing you.

    I don’t like this play.

    12. When they make you stay home in the name of keeping you safe.

    The worst.

    13. When you misbehave but your mother doesn’t report you to your father.

    The biggest act of kindness.

    14. When you call your father to ‘greet him’ and he just asks:

    Daddy, you sabi abeg.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 15 “Fashion Staples” In Every Nigerian Adult’s Wardrobe

    1. Really, what else were you expecting to be number 1?

    Geles for the win.

    2. Your mother’s “I’m here for my breakthrough” Sunday hat:

    You already know she is not there to play.

    3. The “I’m going to slay at Asalatu” veil:

    GIVE THEM!

    4. The “let’s go and scatter that Owambe” jewellery:

    Mama Di Mama!

    5. The ‘I beta pass my neighbour’ bead set:

    Oshey, mummy of the bride.

    6. Your mother’s wardrobe is basically incomplete without:

    Nigerian mothers love their matchy-matchy.

    7. The bag your mother always forgets her phone in:

    Why they never answer your call.

    8. The unofficial Nigerian mother wig:

    If your mother is funky, she will have it in brown too.

    9. Your father’s ‘pass me the remote’ polo:

    You know he is about to watch football.

    10. Every Nigerian adult’s reading glasses.

    They will now put it on their nose.

    11. The shoes your aunty who’s always complaining loves to wear:

    https://twitter.com/No1chick/status/736872736669245440

    12. Your father’s favourite stay-at-home outfit:

    Just add his newspaper and slippers and he is fine.

    13. Your father’s “I’m going to see a friend” shoes:

    They ALL have it.

    14. Your favourite Nigerian uncle’s shoes:

    The one that always gives you ‘biscuit money’.

    15. The cap your least favourite uncle owns:

    He was meant to stay with your family for just a week… It’s been 3 years.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 17 Things Nigerian Parents Will Blame On Lack Of Home Training

    1. When they have to ask “have you seen me today?” before you greet them.

    It’s not their concern that you really hadn’t seen them.

    2. When they see someone that is left handed.

    How dare you be born that way?

    3. When you have more than one colour in your hair.

    Ah! You want to go and do prostitution.

    4. When you wear a dress that is exposing your shoulder blades and ankles.

    Better go and wear that turtleneck.

    5. When they see a girl with more than one piercing and a boy that has any at all.

    You sef, why are you chooking holes in your body?

    6. When they hear that you were talking to someone of the opposite sex.

    You better be ready to marry them.

    7. When your curfew is 9:00 and you get in by 9:01.

    You should have slept there na, since you can’t keep to time.

    8. When you lend them money and ask for it back.

    All the school fees they paid for you, did they collect it back? Better shift.

    9. When they are talking to you and you are keeping quiet.

    So, you can’t talk abi?

    10. When they are talking to you and you are talking too.

    So, you can’t keep quiet abi?

    11. When you don’t greet all the 15 adults in a room individually.

    You cannot prostrate 15 times?

    12. When you don’t add “ma” or “sir” to the end of every word.

    “yes ma, yes ma, yes” “Is it me you are saying yes too???”

    13. When a sex scene comes on and your eyes are still open.

    You want to learn so you can go and practice abi?

    14. When they make a mistake and you correct them.

    It’s like you’re mad.

    15. When they want to slap you and you dodge it.

    Fight them na.

    16. When you eat your meat before touching your rice.

    You need slap.

    17. When you wear your trouser lower than this:

    Be there sagging like a criminal.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 13 Pictures You’ll Relate To If You Have An Igbo Father

    1. When he sees an old friend.

    https://twitter.com/pam_E_chic/status/502031826953592832

    2. When you ask him for a birthday gift.

    Hian!

    3. When you say you don’t want to go to church.

    https://twitter.com/pam_E_chic/status/502021663618125825

    4. When he sends you on an errand.

    https://twitter.com/chuuzzy/status/593904479927443456

    5. When you tell him you don’t want to go to the village for Christmas.

    Allow me na.

    6. When visitors from the east come and he suddenly starts speaking only igbo.

    From where?

    7. When it’s time for 10 O’Clock News.

    On. The. Dot.

    8. When he speaks Igbo to you and you reply in English.

    Sorry sir.

    9. When he starts arguing politics with his friends.

    Bye!

    10. When he wears a polo shirt.

    We know where all the money is going.

    11. How he watches football with his friends:

    Don’t distract them.

    12. When he is talking about your mum and he says “my wife” with so much pride.

    Daddy Daddy!!!

    13. When you tell him you want to study anything outside Engineering, Law, or Medicine.

    I was just joking sir.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 17 Faces We Are Sure You’ve Made If You Grew Up In A Nigerian Home

    1. When that your unemployed uncle is trying to lecture you about school.

    Well, this is awkward.

    2. When you’re about to travel and your mum says “I had a dream…”

    Hay God!

    3. When you hear your father’s horn at the gate and the whole house is scattered.

    It’s all over.

    4. When you open the icecream container in the freezer and see egusi soup.

    What is this life?

    5. When you’re playing outside without slippers and you see your father’s car approaching,

    Chineke!

    6. When that aunty that hasn’t seen you since you were born asks “do you remember me?”

    Adongerrit.

    7. When visitors come and your mum starts bringing out food and drinks you didn’t know were in the house.

    Oh? So we don’t deserve good food too, abi?

    8. When you open the container of Danish cookies and see needle and thread.

    Is it fair?

    9. When your father tells you to come and play with that cousin you don’t like.

    Oh God!

    10. When your mother that warned you not to eat anything at her friends house starts saying “eat na”.

    What will I now believe?

    11. When you say you can’t find something and you hear “if I come there and find it…”

    What is all this?

    12. When your mother calls you by your full government name.

    I’m in trouble

    13. When all your friends are going out but you’ve already gone out this month.

    The pain is real.

    14. When your mother tells you to clean your room because visitors are coming.

    Hian! Will they come and enter my room?

    15. When your parents finish beating you then start asking “why are you crying?”

    Are you joking?

    16. When your watch your mother price a shoe from N15,000 down to N1,500.

    Mama the mama.

    17. When you ask your father if you can go out and he says “go and ask your mother.”

    Na wa for una.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 15 Of The Most Hilarious Nigerian Parent Responses You’ll Ever See

    1. When your mum is calling your sibling and you try to help.

    https://twitter.com/ms_hanie/status/712009407496916992

    2. When your father sees you doing anything that doesn’t relate to your education.

    https://twitter.com/sirDaccoh/status/681629451445243904

    3. When your mum takes everything literally.

    https://twitter.com/Khordeleah/status/679978719281319936

    4. When you bring one nonsense result home to your father.

    5. When your mother gives you that death stare.

    https://twitter.com/malik_pinmouth/status/629016278972370944

    6. When you try to be cool with your father,

    7. When your mother tells you to clean the house and you do rubbish,

    8. When you want to misbehave and your mother reminds you where you came from.

    https://twitter.com/SemilooreAkoni/status/698252563561447426

    9. When your mother expects you to be able to read her mind.

    10. When your mother jumps form 0 to 100 just like that.

    https://twitter.com/Oj_Philz/status/639551201130999808

    11. When your mother starts making you consider money ritual.

    https://twitter.com/Josh__IK/status/701155793593352192

    12. When you don’t get the best score humanly possible.

    https://twitter.com/ochman101/status/656143509087457280

    13. When you tell your mother you can’t find something.

    https://twitter.com/chuuzzy/status/576654410719318016

    14. When you ask your father for money.

    15. When you hear this song and you know it’s a fresh round of prayers.

    Daniel Orubo

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  • 21 Faces We’re Positive Your Father Has Made
    I know we are used to Nigerian mothers serving face, but I think Nigerian fathers are underrated. I mean, these men talk in faces!!

    1. When you try to remind him about the money he promised you.

    Jeez, Dad!

    2. Or when you randomly ask him for anything.

    I mean, you’re my dad right?

    3. When you say something incredibly stupid.

    And you just wish you had shut up.

    4. When you offend your mom, and he has to discipline you…

    …but he secretly doesn’t want to. And now he has to and it’s all your fault.

    5. When you deliberately go against his advice and you get this familiar face.

    You should’ve just listened.

    6. When your teacher is reporting you to him.

    You better be very afraid!

    7. When he’s trying to let you know that your beatdown is coming.

    Yup! It’s about to be lit.

    8. When he’s watching the news or football and you change the channel.

    LMAO! Are you mad?

    9. When you embarrass him in front of his friends.

    Oniranu!

    10. When you’ve done anything to ‘disgrace the family name’ and he hands you over to your mom.

    You’re her child now.

    11. When you personally let him down.

    You feel so crushed.

    12. When he’s explaining the relationship between you and your phone.

    But he’s not even mad.

    13. When you tell him you’re going out of the house.

    Be going. Sha come back.

    14. When you come back home late and he’s waiting like…

    …go back to where you’re coming from.

    15. When you people are forcing him to watch Telemundo or Nollywood.

    You cannot come and kill me.

    16. When you come home with 1.4 CGPA and still ask for a new phone.

    Are you stupid?

    17. When you serve him food without water.

    See your life!

    18. When you start explaining the technicalities of your course to him.

    Wo! Carry your wahala and be going.

    19. When your father finds your Twitter page, and he cannot believe this is his child.

    Kai!

    20. When you ask your dad if he’s proud of you.

    LOL, afi pride!

    21. When your dad is punishing you sibling and you start laughing.

    You want stray slap abi?

    But sometimes, sometimes, your dad can turn up with the best of them.

    Like when those traditional drums come on!

    Odunayo

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