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With inflation biting hard at Nigerians, more citizens are saying painful goodbyes to some household expenses. Even with gainful employment and thriving businesses, the daily needs of these subjects are outgrowing their income bands at an alarming rate.
Johnson* | 33 | Digital Strategist | Lagos
Salary: ₦300k
I calculate every kobo before spending these days. I focus on my needs, and I’ll say foodstuff takes the hit.
I can only afford half of what I used to stock in the house in 2022. I can’t remember the last time I bought clothes. I’m constantly checking my account balance to see if it will last till the next payday. Not a good way to live at all.
Janet* | 39 | Academician | Ado-Ekiti
Salary: ₦180K
I’m not doing badly with my finances at the moment, but I really wish it was better. Living in Ado-Ekiti has been really helpful. It has curbed my frequency at clubs and parties and my impulse buying rate, unlike when I was in Lagos.
In 2021, I owned a car, could comfortably go on vacations and even jump on domestic flights . I sold my car in 2022 in high hopes of relocating overseas. But I’m using part of that money to further my studies in Nigeria. And I can’t even think of getting a new car because things are so expensive. I have to pause one need for the other every time. It’s so sad!
Kareem*| 51 | Businessman | Osogbo
Income range: ₦15m – ₦20m per annum
Things have been challenging. I’m sure my kids know something is wrong even though they don’t talk. My last born is still seeking admission to a government school. It was hard to tell her she won’t be attending a private university like her elder siblings. In fact, I couldn’t break the news to her. It was my wife that told her, and surprisingly, she took the news well. I hope she doesn’t hate me if strikes delay her. It was a painful but necessary decision. Business has slowed, and it will be a financial trap if I insist on putting her in a private university.
Efosa* | 31 | Businessman | Location: Lagos
Income range : ₦20 – ₦30m per annum
My income and lifestyle have been consistent, so I can’t complain. I can afford everything I want — well, except for property in Banana Island. The whole fuel scarcity situation won’t have a lot of bearing on my finances. I’ll likely commute less to conserve fuel. Besides that, everything else will be okay. I’m quite prudent with my spending, so no significant or unmanageable financial exposures for me. I’m also considering getting a bicycle for short runs, like to the nearby supermarket.
Davina* | Age: 32 | Project Manager | Lagos
Salary: ₦350k
Between 2021 and 2022, I could comfortably blow ₦100k in a month and not feel it. But if I try it now, I’ll call a Town Hall meeting; EFCC should even arrest me.
For the better part of the last two years, I ate out almost every day. But now, I’ve had to cut down on eating out. My daily spend used to be ₦8k per day and ₦5k for the weekend. I’ve reduced it to ₦30k per week. I’m struggling to maintain the hard limit sha. Getting paid in dollars is the goal. I sometimes pity low-income earners because there’s no way they won’t be neck-deep in loan debts to survive in this economy.
Korede* | Age: 32 | Businesswoman | Abuja
Income range: ₦1.7m per annum
It hasn’t been easy this year. In fact, I’m always scared of going out because of the expenses involved.
I find myself drawing a detailed budget for everything. Before, I’d go to the market once a week, but I’ve had to change that to once a month. The prices for food items have drastically changed, and I can’t afford to spend as much as I used to on food. It’s also affecting my business. I used to import nothing less than 50kg of goods before, but now, I can hardly do 20 kg due to the increase in dollar rate. I pray it gets better because there are places I’d love to go but can’t because of this crazy hike in fuel prices.
Kunmi* | 28 | Journalist | Lagos
Salary: ₦180k
I don’t go out as much as I’d like to anymore. The fear of taxi fares is the beginning of wisdom. I also used to buy and spend a lot more on food than I currently do. In 2021/2022, I was spending an average of ₦30k – ₦35k ordering food in a month. That has significantly reduced to about ₦15k monthly in 2023. I just stick to whatever is available at home. I’m anxious about how things might still change for the worst.
I’m considering learning how to ride a bicycle or scooter. I also know for sure that outings to the island will be less frequent. It’ll make more sense to go out with a group so we can split the fare. In short, just stay at home.
The easiest way to have money in this life is to have rich parents. If you’re a trust fund baby, vex money is your birthright and you don’t need to stress to get it. But if you’re not, you’ll have to swallow your pride and look for another option.
Have a second 9 to 5
It’s remote work season, and everyone is working more than one job to survive. If one job is stressing your life, ditch it and focus on the other one. In many ways, it’s very similar to having a side chic or side guy.
Collect a salary advance
If your job has decided that it wants to stress you, isn’t it only appropriate that you should be getting paid upfront for it? Once your job starts vexing you, collect a salary advance and ghost them.
Have a sugar daddy/mummy
Find a sugar daddy or sugar mummy that’ll date you in a way that’ll please God. They’ll be sending you money when you need it and providing moral support when your job stresses you out.
Or bill your partner
If you have a partner, rub their head, cook for them, shed crocodile tears, or even shed real tears so they can pity you and dash you vex money. Just do whatever you need to do collect money from them.
Have a side business
You need to have a side hustle that’s not just another job. Because, what if both of them start to move mad at the same time? Where will you run to?
Trade crypto
Yes, yes. We know crypto has dipped, but that’s exactly why you should buy it. Remember when you said you’ll buy the dip? Better start doing so now so you can have “keep your job” money by the time it pops.
You can easily buy cryptocurrencies and trade them on the Bundle app. They have over 80 cryptocurrencies from Bitcoin and Ethereum to SHIBA. Download the app and sign up to get started.
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.
This 25-year-old fashion designer has had a fair share of tricky circumstances. But the consistent pattern in her story is how she always finds random people to get her out of them.
This is what her #NairaLife looks like.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
I lived with my aunt and her husband from when I was three to ten years old. I didn’t think about money during those years, but on some level, I thought we had it. My aunt’s husband regularly changed cars, but I later realised it was because he was a driver for transport companies and private individuals. I went to a private school, but I was sent out of school a couple of times because I owed school fees.
The reality was we lived in a face-me-I-face-you apartment and shared our bathroom and kitchen with a few people in the compound. But credit to my aunt and her husband because they protected me from having to worry about money. I wasn’t aware of it until I was in secondary school — which was a catholic-run school.
What changed?
I had a second cousin in SS 3, who took me under her care. She handled my pocket money (₦1k) and provisions. During my first mid-term break, she returned what remained of my pocket money to me, and it was ₦950. She’d been taking care of me with her own money.
I had to start taking care of myself after she graduated the next year. This was when I really became aware of money and economic classes.
How?
I struggled during the first term of JSS 2. I finished my ₦1k pocket money within the first week. I’m not sure how I survived until the mid-term break. When school resumed for the second term, I latched myself to a teacher, which was easy to do because I was intelligent. This teacher became my guardian and kept my pocket money for me until I needed it.
By the time I got to senior secondary school, I stopped needing a guardian. I moved on to the next best way to maximise my resources.
What was that?
My best friend and I started living on the food supplies we brought. It was a smart way to stretch our supplies, but it showed me the financial gap between my friend and me. She always had more money and contributed more food supplies. I also started noticing how other students lived. Most of them brought a lot more provisions from home than I did and were driven to school in their parent’s cars. I couldn’t compete.
Fast forward to 2013, I graduated from secondary school and got into university. My first year was another reminder of how little we had.
Tell me more
My parents struggled to pay my acceptance fee, which was ₦75k. When they finally sorted this and my school fees, there was nothing left to pay for my rent. The plan was to rent a room with someone and split the cost. So I was supposed to pay ₦55k out of ₦110k, but we couldn’t raise the money. Thankfully, my roommate allowed me to move in until I could raise my quota of the rent.
My allowance wasn’t set in stone. I got what I got whenever it came. I trekked a lot in my first year. I was dating my course rep, so he covered for me a lot of times, especially when I couldn’t buy textbooks and materials. Sometimes, he bought me lunch or gave me transport money. He was a huge help.
In my second year, I couldn’t cope with how broke I was, so I got a job at a restaurant.
How much did it pay?
₦15k, but I only got the full amount once. In my second month, the restaurant changed the pay structure and reduced the base pay to ₦5k. The rest was commission-based. I was there for three months and struggled to combine it with school. Luckily, someone gave me a lifeline.
What do you mean?
One of the customers took an interest in me. During one of his visits to the restaurant, he asked why I was working there, and I told him it was to support myself through school. He was empathetic and offered me a flexible job: I’d clean and take care of his house whenever he was out of town and do grocery runs when he was around. I accepted the offer without agreeing on an official salary, but I got ₦20k – 30k from him per month. Also, if any school expense came up, he took care of it. This man paid my final year school fees and bought me a laptop for my final year project. According to him, he was taking a chance on me, and the only way I could repay him was to ensure I didn’t fail out of school.
That must’ve been a relief
It was. He also bought me my first sewing machine when I decided to take up tailoring. My mum and aunt sewed, and I learnt the craft from them but never took it seriously. In my final year, I registered for a six-month course. By the end, I was almost done with uni and had only my project to sort out, so I launched my fashion design business. I made about ₦100k – 120k after the first two to three months.
What year was this?
2018. After graduation, I was posted to the north-central for NYSC. I had a cousin there; the plan was to live with them for the year. I thought it’d allow me to save as much money as I could, and I’d get a job that’d pay me at least ₦100k per month. None of that happened.
What happened?
My service year was my first full taste of adulting. On the day I left the orientation camp, my cousin stopped picking up my calls and didn’t show up. I followed a friend from the camp whose boyfriend came to pick her up, but I wasn’t comfortable staying over with them, so I found a hotel. I had about ₦50k in my account and paid ₦15k for a night. My cousin called later that night, but I was too mad to pick up. I took their earlier ghosting as a sign to sort things out myself. They never called me back.
Then my Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) rejected me, claiming they didn’t need a corps member. I had no job or place to live.
What did you do?
I don’t even remember how many offices I went to the following morning, but they all rejected me. And I was burning money to get to these places.
My frustration grew, and I couldn’t hide it because one staff member called me back and asked what was wrong. I burst into tears as I narrated everything that had happened in the last 24 hours to her.
I didn’t expect what came after — she asked me to fetch my stuff from the hotel and offered to let me stay with her until I figured things out.
Did she say why she wanted to help?
She said she didn’t want her two young daughters to be in the same situation.
I had somewhere to stay. But I still needed a job. It took two weeks to find an admin role at an outdoor advertising agency. My salary was ₦20k, and the government paid ₦19,800, bringing my monthly income to ₦39,800.
In the first few months, the lady didn’t ask me for anything. However, I tried to pull my weight around the house and bought groceries when I could.
How long did you stay with her?
Three months. I left in June 2018 because I wasn’t comfortable living with her anymore. I was in a relationship, so I moved in with my partner and started looking for my own place even though I had less than ₦150k in savings.
But how did you even raise that?
₦39800 for three consecutive months, and my PPA had a culture of giving out money. It could be anything from ₦10k to ₦20k in a week. During this time, my combined income was higher than my expenses.
Gotcha
Eventually, I found an apartment for ₦150k/year. It completely wiped out my savings, and I couldn’t even move in because I couldn’t afford to furnish it.
I continued staying with my partner and living on whatever money gift I got from work, while slowly setting the place up. My partner bought a new mattress at some point, so I took the old one. I think this was when it occurred to him that I didn’t have anything in the apartment, so he bought the basic things I needed.
The timing was perfect because the relationship ended the following month.
What went wrong?
I found out that he had a fiancee. He said he’d broken it off, but I didn’t wait to find out for sure.
How did living alone impact your finances?
My biggest expense was transportation. My apartment was on the outskirts, so it cost ₦1,400 to get to work and back every day. I was spending close to ₦30k/month on transportation alone when my income was ₦39,800.
How did you make that work?
I picked up sewing clothes for people again. Another friend I made from camp had a bit of clout and directed people my way. Slowly, I started growing a client base, making an extra ₦30k per month.
By the time I settled my basic expenses and miscellaneous bills, I had nothing left. I decided to get a grip and join a savings programme at my place of work. Each person saves ₦20k/month and takes everything at the end of the year. I couldn’t afford it alone, so me and a co-worker agreed to both drop ₦10k/month.
For the savings arrangement to work, though, I had to be retained at the end of my service year.
Were you retained?
Yes, but the promotion to full-staff barely reflected in my salary. They bumped it up to ₦45k gross, ₦39k net. After saving ₦10k, I had only ₦29k to live on. By the end of 2019, I’d saved ₦120k. I received about ₦90k in bonus and ₦50k in money gifts from work.
2020?
Nothing major happened until the lockdown, which helped me cut down on daily expenses like transportation. I only had to sort out my rent. A friend had started living with me, and we’d moved to a bigger apartment, which cost ₦500k. When it was time to renew in June 2020, it took some doing to find the money. I figured it out, but it wiped my savings once again.
I decided to quit my job in March 2021.
Why?
I was done with how little the job paid. Plus, there was no room for growth. I didn’t even have a safety net. I was just exhausted. I wanted to face my fashion design business full-time. But I needed capital to do that. And everyone I told I was quitting my job to start a business had something to chip in. I raised about ₦1m from money gifts.
Omo
Between renting out a space and miscellaneous expenses, I was out of money again. I didn’t have a solid client base by this time because I hadn’t been consistent with the business. It took about three months before it picked up.
What changed?
I started attending trade fairs. I either sold the ready-to-wear clothes I made or offered custom services to people who didn’t find what they liked or their size. I’d collect their numbers and call them later to pick up the conversation. Slowly, my clients increased.
I wasn’t making enough profit to live on, so what made all the difference was the money gifts I got from friends who’d left the country and my bosses at my former workplace.
Then something else had to set me back.
What was that?
I entered a new relationship in 2020 and fell pregnant in July 2021. I was barely surviving on my own, so I went to a fertility clinic and got some abortion pills for about ₦50k. After two weeks, I still had pregnancy symptoms. When I returned to the clinic, they suggested another procedure, and I went through with it. But in August, I still felt bloated. One day, on my way to the shop, I started feeling sharp stomach pains. I had a feeling something was wrong and went back to the clinic. After a scan, the doctor referred me to another hospital.
Did they say why?
They didn’t understand what they saw, so they sent me to another lab to get a clearer image. I paid ₦24k for a transvaginal scan, and all hell broke loose. The radiologist said they couldn’t get a good view of my reproductive system because there was a lot of fluid in the area due to a rupture between my fallopian tube and ovaries. They concluded that I was carrying an ectopic pregnancy.
When I returned to the fertility clinic, they said they couldn’t handle the surgery it required and referred me to a government hospital. After waiting at the hospital for hours, I found out the doctors were on strike and didn’t have enough doctors around to carry out the procedure. This was a huge blow because doing it at the government hospital wouldn’t have cost more than ₦200k.
What did you do?
It was now a medical emergency, so I was referred to a private hospital. They wouldn’t let me see a doctor until I registered with the hospital and got a card, which cost ₦40k. And there was no guarantee that they’d take my case even then. I also found out that the surgery would cost about ₦1m.
How much did you have?
I had ₦200k left. The doctor referred me to another clinic where the surgery cost ₦450k. And my boyfriend sent me ₦150k.
₦100k to go.
I’m not sure why, but every time I put myself in silly situations, someone randomly comes through.
How did it manifest this time?
Out of the blue, my former boss called to check up on me later that night. When I told him I was in the hospital and being prepped for surgery, he promised to do something. The following morning, he sent me ₦250k.
Phew
The recovery was hellish. I couldn’t work for three weeks, so my income dried out, and I was back to living on money gifts. My friend and I were struggling to pay our rent. In October 2021, we were served a quit notice. My friend was leaving the country in January 2022. Because of this, I started thinking about japa too.
In January 2022, I started applying to schools abroad while living with a friend. In February, I found another apartment for ₦400k. I had about ₦100k and borrowed ₦300k from my friends to move.
One month later, I was offered admission to a school in the UK. The tuition was £14,800, and they requested 50% upfront.
What did you do?
I called my parents and asked them to find the money for me. The plan was for them to borrow it, and I’d pay back when I got to the UK. I went ahead to borrow ₦9.5m for the proof of funds, so I could go ahead with the other processes. But I had to pay 4% of the money for every month it took me to return it. I locked it in my account for two months while the school and visa people confirmed. In the end, I paid the lender ₦760k extra.
You want to know how I found the money, don’t you?
I do
My former roommate who left in January borrowed me ₦500k from the money she planned to use to balance her tuition, which was due in August 2022. I raised the rest from my business proceeds.
Did your parents find the money for your own tuition?
They found someone who promised to loan them the money if they could provide some collateral, so they put down some of their property. But the person ghosted when it was time to fulfil their end of the deal.
This put an end to my japa plan. I returned to face my fashion design work, but there were lots of pieces to pick up. I had to return the money my friend loaned me and renew my shop rent. I haven’t recovered from it. I worked twice as hard before I managed to pay her back in September 2022, but we fell out for a bit because I missed her deadline. Luckily, the school didn’t throw her out.
My shop rent has been due since last month. My house rent was due earlier this month. I need ₦900k for both, and at the moment, my cash at hand is ₦390k.
What’s your plan?
I’m a little at rest because I have enough to cover my house rent. But I’ve been asking myself recently how I manage to push myself into sticky situations. I’d probably be in a better place financially if I didn’t go through with the whole japa thing last year. But I have more clients now, so unlike the previous times I’ve been in tough spots, I have a clear pathway to making money in the near future.
Can I ask what you make in a good month?
Between ₦300k – 500k. About 40% of that goes into expenses.
What do your recurring expenses look like?
I struggle to keep the records, so I can only give you ballpark monthly figures.
Is there something you want but can’t afford?
I wanted to expand my business with about ₦3m in 2022, and someone was going to put the money down. Unfortunately, they pulled out at the last minute. I’m confident it’ll happen by the end of 2023.
How would you rate your financial happiness?
It’s a 5. I’m not comfortable with where I am, but I’m no longer that girl who had to live on handouts. I may not have all the things I need, but I’ll always be good. I have people around me who have my best interests at heart. That’s good enough for now.
Can you guess how much cash I’m currently holding? ₦100.
I’m not going to lie; the note is a prized possession at this point. I randomly catch myself reaching for my wallet to confirm it’s still in there. I’d never thought this day would come, but here we are.
It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t a chaotic situation.
Speaking of chaotic situations, the fashion designer in today’s #NairaLife is no stranger to those. In the past 10 years, she’s had to deal with a few financial struggles. Some were out of her control, and others were a consequence of her decisions. But somehow, she always finds a way out of them.
On #LoveCurrency, the theme is “love will always come through”. To mark this year’s Valentine’s Day, six people share details of their relationships and how much it costs them to celebrate special occasions with their partners.
In this letter:
#NairaLife: How Does This Fashion Designer End Up in Tough Financial Situations?
HustlePrint: From Studying Agricultural Engineering to Working at Spotify
#LoveCurrency: Valentine’s Day Spending Across 6 Different Relationships
Money Meanings: “Collateral”
Game: #HowMuchLast
Where The Money At?!
#NairaLife: How Does This Fashion Designer End Up in Tough Financial Situations?
This 25-year-old fashion designer has had a fair share of tricky financial circumstances. But the consistent pattern in her story is how she always finds random people to get her out of them.
From Studying Agricultural Engineering to Working at Spotify
In 2016, Zainab Ayodimeji began her transition into tech after realising that her agricultural engineering background may not give her the career and income growth she wanted. Now, she’s helping Spotify teams make important decisions for users. In this story, she shares how the journey was a mix of vibes, strategy, and pure luck.
Valentine’s Day Spending Across 6 Different Relationships
In case you missed it: last week Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. And while we were in the spirit, we explored how lovers across different relationships came through for one another and the cost of doing this. From a student’s first Valentine with his girlfriend to the long-distance married couple and the writer receiving gifts from three different partners, this special edition of #LoveCurrency is one hell of a sappy read.
We can’t say we’re about the money and not actually help you find the money.
So we’ve compiled a list of job opportunities for you. Make sure you share this with anyone who might need it because in this community, we look out for each other.
A Nigerian’s brain is filled with many concerns fighting for attention. Thoughts like, “Where do I find the shortest queue for fuel today?” or “Which network provider won’t disgrace me today?”
But the one you’re guaranteed to find close to the top is, “Where can I keep my money so bank charges, exchange rate, rats and snakes don’t send me back to my village?”
Where do Nigerians keep their money? We’ve ranked all eight spots.
8. Nigerian mother
If you’re still keeping money with your Nigerian mother, after all she used your eyes to see when you were younger, you’re very brave. Sure, mothers are great at saving things — remember the nylon bag filled with other nylon bags? — and we’re not saying you won’t get your money back, but if she “borrows” it, how do you ask for it back? Are you ready for a how “she carried you for nine months” reminder?
7. Thrift savings, AKA Ajo or Esusu
I get the idea behind ajo, and it’s not bad. You agree with a group of people to put your money together, and then each person “collects” everyone’s money when it’s their turn. It makes sense if you don’t trust yourself not to finish all your money on shawarma, but what if one person decides to pack everyone’s money and run away before paying their share? If it can happen to these people, it can happen to you. Issa no for me.
6. Under your bed or pillow
There’s nothing better than sleeping on money, literally; at least you know where your money is. But have you met some rats? In case you don’t know, there are demon rats who’d leave your kitchen and prefer to eat certificates and cash. Just ask our politicians.
5. Piggy banks, AKA kolo
Kolos only work when you’re highly self-disciplined, or you’d just find yourself using broom to remove the ₦1k you dropped there the night before.
4. Regular banks
You’ll understand why I’m differentiating the banks later on in this list, but here, I’m referring to the traditional commercial banks where you’ll open a “savings” account with ₦10k and come back to a balance of ₦9,650 in a matter of minutes. The ones that’ll charge “ATM maintenance” fees but will still ask you to wait 24 working days to reverse an ATM dispense error. The good thing is, you don’t have to keep your money in cash, and people can easily send you urgent ₦2k.
3. The stock market
You can make a sizeable profit when you keep your money in stocks, but you can also wake up tomorrow and see that all your life savings has vanished. It’s not your village people. The stock market is just volatile. Put some of your money there, not all biko.
2. Foreign currency
With the naira’s epileptic state, it only makes sense to want to keep your money in other currencies like the dollar. This would have been number one, but how many people even have access to dollar investments?
1. Digital banks
Digital banks are like mobile banks, but without the plenty charges. At least with these ones, what you put inside is what you’ll meet, plus jara.
ALAT by Wema, Nigeria’s leading digital bank, offers multiple savings features which customers can choose from and grow their finances by earning up to 10% interest on money saved.
Even if you want to spend your money — because problem no dey finish — their Spend and Save feature allows you to automatically save a percentage of the transaction amount on ALAT and earn interest on your savings. You can also save in dollars with the Dollar Savings feature. Even if it’s ajo you want to do, the Rotating Savings feature offers a transparent collective savings process for you and up to 12 friends.
Make savings and investment a lifestyle with ALAT. Check out their website for more information on the available savings features, and get started today.
I heard people are complaining, yet again, about the criminal rent prices in Lagos.
Even if you’re lucky to find a reasonably priced apartment, give it a year, and inflation will greet you in typical fashion.
But if you want to run away from Lagos because of rent prices, avoid a case of “from frying pan to fire” by crossing these places off your list.
“Abuja is no better”
— Debby, 35
I thought Lagos was bad till I moved to Abuja in early 2022. I only looked for apartments in what we’d call the “suburbs”, like Kubwa and Lugbe. Tell me why I was hearing ₦1.7m to ₦1.8m for two-bedroom apartments?
“They’ve moved Lagos craze to Ibadan”
— Torera, 28
Gone are the days when people move to Ibadan because they can’t afford Lagos. If you have a certain standard of living and want a decent one-bedroom mini flat in places like Bodija, just hold like ₦1m, minus agent fees.
“Port Harcourt is also pricey”
— Odi, 27
Renting here is also pricey, especially well-known residential estates or GRAs like Eliozu, Woji and the like. Two-bedroom apartments in these areas can cost as much as ₦900k – ₦1.2m per annum, but it’d most likely be a new building and really standard.
“The agents in Ado-Ekiti are in a weird competition”
— Ope, 33
I moved here in 2019 when you could still find standard three-bedroom apartments for between ₦200k to ₦250k. Now, you may need to budget around ₦400k if you want a new two-bedroom apartment with basic amenities, especially around areas close to the tertiary institutions. The prices may not be as bad as Lagos, but the business prospects in Ekiti are next to nothing, so it doesn’t make sense.
Then there are the agents who love to increase rent every year, as if they’re chasing them.
“The popular areas in Ilorin cost more”
— Adetola, 30
Rent is quite reasonable in Ilorin, except if you’re looking in places like Tanke or the GRA. GRA is the best area in Ilorin, and you can get a two-bedroom apartment for around ₦400k – ₦550k per annum. It’s not as much as what it’d cost in Lagos, but it can also be ridiculous, considering it’s much lesser in the inner towns.
“You won’t even see what you’re paying for in Abeokuta”
— Dara, 25
You can get a one-bedroom apartment at around ₦400k in Oke-Mosan — which is one of the nicer neighbourhoods in the city — but my problem is you won’t even see what you’re paying for. It’s either the road is bad, the landlord wakes up and decides to increase the rent or light becomes an issue.
Your December might be detty but have you thought about January yet? We’re giving you this cheat code way ahead of time so you don’t scream “sapa” again early next year, please.
Have a budget
Yes, we know this is the month to prove how much of a baller you are, but don’t get carried away. Plan your money so you don’t cry hot tears next month. If you don’t know how to be a baller on a budget, we’ve got you covered.
Gatecrash all the parties
Five minutes of fun before they kick you out is definitely worth it. Don’t sleep on this tactic for your December. If you’re finding it hard to gatecrash any party, show up like this.
…Or stay in your house
Maybe just stay in your house and watch people ball on the internet. Or watch the World cup instead. Second-hand enjoyment isn’t such a bad thing, you know. At least, you won’t get a bill in the end.
Bill your rich friends
It’s your detty December, but why not have someone else pay for it so you can ball without having chest pain every five minutes? Bill your rich friends and forget your problems this month.
Avoid family gatherings
Your village people will come for their annual dues if you attend any huge family gatherings this December. If you must attend, don’t lose guard, for the sake of your pocket.
Buy yourself December clothes
You still want to look like your December is detty even though you’re taking things easy. Perception is everything, so use your drip to hide the fact that January winter is on its way. Impress people with your fresh new drip to limit the pressure to spend just to prove a point.
Or find someone to buy them for you
You can even rope someone into buying you clothes so you don’t have to spend anything to look suave this December. What’s sweeter than using someone else’s money to enjoy life? Absolutely nothing. Nigerian politicians would know.
Maybe in the past, it was cool to pay all your bills while carrying the burden of five relatives who call you for money every time. But these days, everywhere choke. Learn to guide your pocket with these tips so you can have some breathing space.
Don’t be black
We hate to break it to you, but this was your first mistake. You can’t experience black tax if you aren’t black. So find a solution to that and be free.
Don’t be the first child
As if it’s not enough that you’re black and are, by default, obligated to remit funds to your family every month, you just had to be the first child too. Maybe, give up your position and tell them you’re not doing again.
Tax them first
Don’t give anybody space to ask you for anything. Preempt it by voicing out your problems and asking them for money first. In this life, you have to be wise.
Face your front, and air everybody
Whether you ignore their messages or switch off your phone once your salary drops, you just have to do something. Else, your ₦200k will become ₦20k before the month even starts.
Run away
You can only ask someone you can reach for money. If this thing is getting too much, my dear, disappear.
Maybe it’s the definition that’s making it pinch your body. As they say, everything in this life is about your mindset. So you need to stop thinking of it as black tax and start seeing it as forced philanthropy. That way, you’ll feel better when you do it.
Be ridiculously rich
How can you think of it as philanthropy if you’re managing your last ₦10k and food prices are going up every market day? You need plenty of money so it doesn’t feel like stress anymore.
Don’t talk to your extended family
Why is it your business that the Uncle Soji you’ve only met once as a child is having a wedding, and you have to contribute money to cook Jollof rice?
Interview With… is a Zikoko weekly series that explores the weird and interesting lives of inanimate objects and non-human entities.
With Nigerians buying $1 at ₦680 in 2022, we knew it was time to bring Dollar in for questioning. Turns out Dollar is a Beyoncé fan on a quest for world domination.
[Dollar has agreed to meet with Zikoko under terms of sworn secrecy. After three days of journeying, our blindfold is taken off and lights come on in an undisclosed location.]
[Dollar arrives surrounded by his guards.]
Zikoko: Was all of this really necessary?
Dollar: When you’re big, you’re big.
Zikoko: Can we at least get a seat? It took us days to get here.
[Dollar snaps his fingers and one of the guards brings a chair.]
Zikoko: Thanks. So what’s been going on with you? The people want to know why you’ve been so scarce.
Dollar: Beyoncé already said it. I’m way too sexy for this world.
Zikoko: By world, do you mean just Nigeria?
Dollar: Is that why you’re here? I thought you wanted this interview to get to know me.
Zikoko: You’ve risen more times than Jesus Christ this year. What we want to know is, why?
Dollar: I’ve told Nigeria that the situation with Naira is out of my control. And I’ve begged her to stop sending me emails and calling me at odd hours. I don’t appreciate her constant interruptions on my off-days.
Zikoko: But…
Dollar: There are powers even greater than me in this world.
Zikoko: You mean Pounds?
Dollar: For my protection, I can’t name names. But I can tell you how it all started.
Zikoko: I’m listening.
Dollar: [clears throat] You were a child or possibly not even born when Naira and I met on a cold night in 1973.
Before then, Naira was almost on the same level as me because Queen Lizzie had Nigerians using pound shillings. Pounds was at the top of the world even in the 70s. And my guys didn’t really like that.
Zikoko: Jealousy is not a good colour on you.
Dollar: No, but power is.And Queen Lizzie got in the way of that. I was sick of her.
Maybe I’d respect Lizzie more if she was Queen Bey. Bey gets me.
Zikoko: Uhm… Can we stay on track?
Dollar: I’ve been around since 1792, that’s 230 years on earth, so you better watch your tone. Where was I?
Ah yes, Pounds.
My beef with Lizzie wasn’t important because I had to play nice. You know what they say, in the art of war, it’s best to keep your enemies close.
Zikoko: And the enemies here are…?
Dollar: My memory fails me. Where was I?
Ah yes, Lizzie my enemy.
Zikoko: Why does it feel like Nigeria was a pawn in your sick game of world domination?
Dollar: At least a pawn plays a game. You guys might as well have been the board. I didn’t have to lift a finger.
Zikoko: Educate us
Dollar: When Queen Lizzie got kicked out in 1960, Nigeria decided she was better off taking charge of her financial affairs and officially issued the naira in 1973.
Naira was rolling with the big boys and trading at ₦1 for 10 UK Shillings and 90 Kobo to $1. But the cookie started crumbling. Without Lizzie ruling, Naira was playing a game of Russian roulette.
Zikoko: Oshey bendownselect Wes Anderson. Look D… Can I call you D? Feels like we’re buddies now.
Dollar: I might have bounded and gagged you before you got here, but you need to calm down. I won’t be referred to as a phallus.
Zikoko: Cool. So D, we’re the biggest suppliers of crude oil in West Africa. That has to count for something.
Dollar: Do you remember the parable of the 10 virgins waiting for their bridegroom? I am the five virgins that passed the test. Z!, I have reserves.
Zikoko: Maybe we should unpack why 12 virgins were waiting for one brideg—
Dollar: Look, you’re basically buying your oil back from countries with the infrastructure to refine it. And that means Nigeria has to buy everything with currencies like me. Word on the street is that you people are still importing toothpicks.
Do you get the full picture? I’m not the cause of Nigeria’s problems. You people are doing yourselves.
Zikoko: Wow. Do you have any advice for us?
Dollar: It’s simple, really. You’re owing the world $45.2 billion, I’m owing $28.4 trillion. But how many times have you seen the world come to drag me? When you act like the best, you’ll be regarded as the best.
Your celebrities understand this. Maybe they should lead the country.
Zikoko: Nawa. So the price of sardine will never go down?
Dollar: The only way is up.
Zikoko: *Cries*
Dollar: I’ll take my leave now. And please, no more calls for interviews except you’ve secured one with Bey and me. Or at least, recognise I’m way too sexy for this world.
[The blindfolds come on again and all we hear is D’s footsteps storming off.]
The Big Brother Naija Season 7 host, Ebuka Obi-Uchendu, tweeted a very valid question asking how people are still eating snails in this economy. And we’re here to tell you exactly how to eat snails without breaking the bank.
Pepper is expensive, bring your own
To enjoy the rich and moist flavours of snail, you need to pair it with pepper sauce; it’s best served hot and spicey. So bring the pepper from your house and maybe the chef will reduce the price. But I can’t say eating them raw doesn’t bang as well.
Start catching them yourself
If you think the price of snails is too much, you need to start catching your own. You and the chef will have a feast because who doesn’t want free snails? So the more of them you find, the merrier.
Ask them to serve you with the shell
You know cracking off the shell of a snail is not like breaking open an egg, right? It’s time-consuming and you’ll almost always end up with a cut from trying to get it off. I’d say the solution is for restaurants to start serving the snails with their shells on. You can’t deny that there’s some appeal to the stress of finally stripping off a hard shell.
Quit your job and become a snail farmer
Snails are easier to find during the rainy season, so restaurants charge that much because they’re seasonal. So what you can do is quit your job and become a snail farmer. Harvest as many as you can and start a supply chain.
Find a 30+ man that loves local bars and beer
Snails are expensive because 30+ men love to order them with beer while watching football at their local bars. So to find cheap snails, I’ll advise you to start going to local bars and attach yourself to 30+ snail lovers. Avoid Manchester United fans sha, they don’t have any joy.
Another stressful step to prepping snails is getting rid of that sliminess. You can offer your expertise to local restaurants and offer to clean them. Preferably after they’ve at least been steamed.
Just make more money
Snail is not a local champion and probably deserves the hype it’s getting. In France, they’re called escargots and 6 – 12 pieces can cost between $15 – $50 (₦6k – ₦21k). So as you can see, snail is a world-class dish and not for the poor.
If you read this article with any other thing in mind, I’ll advise you to check yourself.
Like me, you probably come across the “never dating a broke babe or guy” conversation at least once a day on social media. But I was curious about how someone who’s actually had an unemployed partner feels about that hot take. In this article, Dolapo* shares her experience.
She opened up about the first real relationship she had after university. Initially, it was all about looks, but the night they finally hung out, Dolapo* realised there was a lot more to his pretty face. My burning question: What kept them together, and would she do it all over again even though their relationship didn’t last?
My Cute, Resilient and Broke Lover as Told to Ortega
I was 21 when I got into my first official relationship. Before meeting this person, I was in university, so I’d only dated childhood friends, nothing serious.
We met when I was in the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in 2016. I was working at a radio station in Abuja, and he showed up looking for a job at the time. When I saw him at the reception, my immediate thought was, “This guy is cute!” I noticed he was wearing a Catholic rosary ring, but he looked way too young to be married. Rather than stand and stare, I decided to walk up to him and ask.
Turned out he wasn’t married; he wore the ring because of his faith. The conversation went on with how I liked him and thought he was really cute. I wasn’t the kind of girl to shy away from being upfront, so it wasn’t awkward.
When he was done submitting his files, I asked my colleague for his phone number. My colleague was a presenter at the station trying to link my new crush with a job, and he didn’t think it was weird to shoot my shot if I liked him. I called that evening and invited him to my house the next day. Of course, we already had a vibe going on, so he showed up.
We shared a lot more about each other when he came over. He was only four years older than me. But that’s when he opened up about being laid over from his job at the bank nine months earlier and had been looking for a new one ever since. The 21-year-old me didn’t think it was a big deal. After all, my previous relationships were with students who were also unemployed. Maybe it would’ve made a difference if I’d dated proper adults with a job back in uni.
Besides, I just wanted to have fun. I didn’t think anything would last since I’d be moving back to Lagos at the end of my service year.
I can’t even remember at what point we officially started dating, everything happened fast. That one evening he came over turned into seeing him every day after work, and that was it. He showed up at my office a lot because he was keen on working at that particular station as a presenter. When I asked him why he wanted to move from banking to presenting, he went on about experiencing something more creative. And you don’t need to have a specific background to get into a radio station, so I didn’t dwell on it.
Of course, he also wanted our relationship hush hush so it didn’t ruin his chances of getting in. But in the whole year, we were together, he never got the job. While we dated, I tried persuading him to try another station. But, he was bent on famzing my colleagues, hoping they’d pull one or two strings.
Asides from the issue of getting a job, I did enjoy spending time with him. He was nice, funny, and obviously, cute. We knew how to have fun together too. The sex was also so great I’m sure we wouldn’t have made it through an entire year of dating otherwise. A part of me loved how available he was. Working at a media company meant I had really long days except during CDS. We didn’t even observe public holidays because we always had to be on air. So, it was convenient having someone who could easily visit me.
His availability became an issue when working in a busy environment meant I couldn’t always take his calls or respond to a message quickly enough. His typical day was calling me in the morning, sending texts during the day and showing up at my house between 6 p.m. and 9 p.m., depending on how long I’m at the office. Trying to match that energy all the time got tiring after a few months. Yet, I needed the company because I didn’t have a lot of friends in Abuja.
We never celebrated milestones in our relationship. Six months went by without any date out or gifts, and so did our first anniversary. But the major issue was depending on my NYSC allowance to buy food for both of us anytime he came over. I never brought it up though. I understood he relied on his savings from his bank job and allowance from his older brother.
There was never anyone to think through the situation with. I didn’t see the need to share it with my old friends. It was just him and I in our little bubble. And that worked for me at 21. I didn’t need much more than the comfort of having someone to talk to, laugh and enjoy intimacy with after a long day. That’s why everything needed to end when it was time to move back to Lagos.
NYSC was over. The carefree life in Abuja needed to come to an end. There was no way a long-distance relationship could work because what was going for us was the physical presence; his fine face was my first attraction and the sex was what kept us together. Without the ability to see each other at every whim, there wasn’t much left.
I geared myself to break up with him, but he beat me to it. I guess he knew the end was inevitable. I was glad he took that responsibility away from me, but I was sad, really sad. The last time I heard from him, he’d finally gotten a job. But it was with one of the shitty radio stations in Abuja. He actually moved to Lagos this year, so we jam sometimes. But our conversations never go beyond a “hello” or “hi”.
Nothing about the year I spent dating him makes me feel like I can ever date an unemployed guy. I’ve never relied on anyone for anything, but I’d still want my partner to actively look out for jobs or at least start a business. That was something he never did at the time. He was stuck on one thing, and that’s not how life works.
Heck, the guy I started dating a year after our breakup, currently doesn’t have a job because he’s relocating soon and had to resign. That’s the kind of unemployed love that eventually works out. We’re both pulling our weight for a better future, so the momentary delay doesn’t matter.
When it comes to owambes, Lagos takes the cake with planning things out. But how much does it cost to put together a wedding that actually bangs? In this article, five Nigerian women broke things down.
Adeola* , 30, wedded in Ikeja
April 2022 was when I got married and I planned most of it with my mum. We only hired a planner to handle coordination on the wedding day. The initial budget was ₦20 million and my parents were meant to cover most of the bill because it was a cultural thing. I’m Yoruba while my husband is Igbo. Traditionally, in Yoruba land, the bride’s family is the host. But in modern-day weddings like mine, the groom’s family contributes financially too.
Beyond the culture factor, my husband’s family had less than 100 out of the 500 guests we targeted. I had a larger family based in Lagos and coming in from Kwara state too, so we had to cover those expenses. The 500 people were even a gamble because I was the last child getting married. With my older siblings, we ended up with over 1000 guests. It was hard to be strict with such a large attendee list. And Nigerians no dey RSVP invitations; trust me, I tried.
Anyway, as a caterer, I was able to cut back our ₦20m budget to ₦15m. It may not sound like a huge difference, but trust me, putting ₦5m back in the bank when you’re getting married is a huge feat. The ₦15m covered both the engagement party and wedding.
The most prominent wedding planners in the game were charging us between ₦1m – ₦2.5m. The not-so-big ones went for ₦500k. But I ended up getting a friend to help out and she took ₦250k for coordinating the wedding day.
Dress and makeup
My wedding dress and other outfits were the same approach. One dress from any big brand was going for ₦1m – ₦1.5m and upwards. Initially, I was willing to rent a dress at ₦200 – ₦300k, but I ended up finding an upcoming designer willing who made a custom piece for a little over that range. The engagement outfit was the same price, and I kept my accessories under ₦50k.
My husband didn’t also stress. He used an upcoming designer as well and paid ₦60,000 for the suit. He had a shirt he wanted to wear already, but the tie, pocket square and boutonnière all cost ₦11,500 while his shoes cost about ₦20,000.
We all know bridal makeup and gele are expensive. And for the engagement and wedding, I’d be paying ₦1m upward if I used a premium service. But my friend recommended someone who was doing a promo package at the time and paid ₦140k for everything.
Food
The catering would have been our biggest cost. As a caterer myself, if I was to charge for feeding 500 guests, their bill would look like this:
And I’d still add a 15% service and transportation charge. All for a service that isn’t premium — no fancy seafood, continental dishes, fancy dorime services or displays. But we only spent half of that amount (₦1.6m)for the engagement and wedding because we catered the event ourselves.
Venue and decorations
With all the basics settled, the venue was the next challenge to face. We were planning to get a place on Victoria Island, but when the best deal we found was ₦2.5 m, the reality of inflation dawned on me. And the venues that cost less on the island weren’t good at all. So we kuku went to face the mainland.
In Surulere, there were only two options that could house 500 guests. One was already booked for our date while the other was under renovation. Eventually, we found a decent wedding hall in Ikeja for ₦1.5m Luckily, we got a ₦200k discount An engagement venue close by cost another ₦300k. There were cheaper options for ₦100k – ₦200k but each had one issue or the other — there were either no taps, air conditioners or security.
The rest of the money went into items like videography, photography, catering to logistics and accommodation. But cutting costs made it possible to splurge on a few things other things, fresh flowers for my bouquet.
Faux flowers cost ₦5k in the market. Custom-made faux flowers cost about ₦15k – ₦20k while fresh flowers cost ₦60k – ₦100k or more — roses and tulips are the most expensive. But I paid a florist ₦40k for mine.
Halima*, 28, wedded in Surulere
I got married in March 2022. I had my Nikkah ( the religious ceremony for Muslims) and reception at Surulere on the same day.
During Yoruba weddings, the lady’s family does the planning for the wedding, but the groom and bride cook separately. I’m not sure how much my husband spent, but the budget on my side was a little over ₦2m.
For a start, finding an affordable venue was difficult. And planning everything while I was five months pregnant didn’t make it any easier. After checking through Island locations to fit 1000 people and ending up with quotes from ₦1.6m upwards, we settled on getting an open space in Surulere. It cost us ₦600k with the tables, and decorations and chairs cost me another ₦800k.
In between searching for the venue, my husband and I designed our wedding bands — were customised gold rings with our names on them for ₦220k. We had these done at Ojuelegba.
The night before the wedding, family members showed up at the house. So we had to plan for food. About 20 guests showed up and we had to buy a carton of turkey and fish, half a bag of semo and 10 cups of rice. I can’t remember exactly how much we paid for food, but the most expensive thing was the two cows that cost us ₦750k.
As for my dress and make-up, I made sure to keep it simple. The white material for my wedding dress was ₦25k while sewing it cost ₦18k. My aso oke was a bit more expensive because it was an express order. The material cost ₦35k and we spent ₦24k for sewing.
My accessories cost ₦60k. And my nails and makeup were ₦73k. Logistics, accommodation for our family coming outside of Lagos and my hotel room were handled by my husband.
Amaka*, 28, wedded in Yaba
We planned for something very small because the wedding happened during the pandemic. Beyond the limit the government put on gatherings, we always wanted something quiet.
Our court, traditional and white wedding cost about ₦2m in total. The majority of the money went into the transportation to my village in Imo State. My husband’s people had to come down from Lagos. Hotel accommodation and transport alone cost us ₦600k.
Igbo people also organise something called Igba Nkwu, a traditional ceremony where the groom performs rites for the bride’s kinsmen. There was a whole list with wine, foodstuff and money requests to cover. They cost about ₦350k.
The rest of the money went into my wedding dress, food and picking a small hall around Yaba. As a Deeper Life church member, I didn’t need to think about earrings, hair or makeup. Styling my natural hair myself worked fine.
Ronke*, 26, wedded in Gbagada
If you don’t have money, your wedding will stress you. Mine was relatively pricey because inflation just makes everything go up by the week these days. The exchange rate was epileptic this year [2022] so planning for 450-500 guests cost a lot. Feeding alone was more than ₦1m. Then the hall was at Gbagada and was to cost ₦1.2m – ₦1.5m on weekends. But I had my wedding on a weekday and paid ₦750k instead. There was really no way to avoid spending that much money on food and venue.
The next thing that took quite a bit of money was travelling to Akwa-Ibom. Since my father had a house in my village, the cost was on my husband to cover his family’s bus fare and hotel. That alone cost ₦500k.
I also wanted to have a lot of memories from the experience, so I really went all out on my media team. I paid about ₦500k to cover the events across cities. It was expensive but worth it for me.
My most questionable expense was the MC service. He charged ₦250k and I’m sure we could’ve gotten someone for ₦100k for the kind of forgettable experience he provided. That money could have been spent on a wedding coordinator instead, but we move.
Another thing that takes money is designing the wedding programs for the church wedding, but I did it myself in Canva. Most people just end up leaving it in church anyway. I can’t remember how much it costs to print them, but it was way cheaper since I did it myself.
Everything eventually came down to ₦6m for other expenses like my dresses and accessories, the live band, drinks, cake and a bunch of other things I can’t remember. Honestly, even if you have a budget, add ₦1m to everything on the list to be safe, and ask yourself what the intention of every item l on your list is. If it’s to show off, remember that everybody will go home, last last.
Dolapo*, 24, wedded in Isheri
I got married in April 2022. My husband’s family took most of the financial responsibility, but my husband made sure there was a spreadsheet documenting everything.
The hall and decorations were the most expensive. We went as far as Isheri, but we still paid ₦1,660,000. The photographer my father-in-law decided to hire was also quite expensive. I didn’t understand why we needed to pay ₦750k. I tried to push back but he decided to fund it. He also hired a live band for ₦700k. I had to give up and let the man spend his money at that point.
We had about 700 guests, so the food was around ₦2m. There was lots of amala going around, a whole ram grilled in front of the church and lots of drinks. The small chops and non-alcoholic drinks came down to ₦224,700; our wedding cake was ₦100k.
The food, venue and media coverage took the most money. I got my wedding gown for free and fixed the weave my sister gifted me for ₦4k.
Planning my wedding showed me that everyone needs good friends and family for support. It’s been three months since our wedding and we’re still getting gifts from people. It’s the most thoughtful thing.
Ever heard of sapa? Well, it’s that evil spirit that has made so many people resort to desperate — and sometimes, downright hilarious — attempts to get their daily urgent ₦2k to put food on the table.
I spoke to some people and they shared the most desperate things they’ve done for money.
“I spent the night in a dark classroom”
— Tola*, 29
This was during the 2011 Nigerian elections and I desperately wanted to be a part of the INEC ad-hoc staff. I’d applied but didn’t get selected. I got the bright idea to go spend the night in the school where INEC personnel would be taking off from, just in case somebody didn’t show up so I could replace them.
I met some other people there as well, and it was a long, cold night. Eventually, some of the selected staff didn’t show up in the morning and I took someone’s place. They paid me only ₦13k after everything — they even delayed payments by over two weeks.
I’ve also done ushering service jobs where I’d get paid ₦1k for a whole day, after leaving home at 5 a.m. and returning at 10 p.m. I did this between 2008 and 2011. Sure, I got to eat at the events, but it was horrible — all the insults and stress were just ridiculous. I can never do either of these two “jobs” ever again.
“I commuted from Ikorodu to Owode-Onirin every day for ₦500 daily”
— Wendy, 25
In 2013, I was trying to save up for JAMB, so my neighbour introduced me to a food canteen in Owode-Onirin where they paid ₦500 per day. I’d go there as early as 5 a.m. and try to convince the iron rod sellers near the canteen to buy a plate of food from me. Each plate was about ₦300, and I needed to sell at least 20 plates, retrieve them, wash them and sweep the store by 6 p.m. to get my ₦500 for that day.
I didn’t get paid in full somedays because madam could just complain that I wasn’t smiling or that I didn’t attend to a customer “well”. My transport fare to and from the canteen was about ₦200, and sometimes I only made a profit of ₦200 after everything.
I didn’t last up to two weeks there because one of the male sellers slapped my bum one day, and I hit him back in the face. Nonsense.
“I de-feathered chickens on the road for about ₦200”
— Charles*, 24
This was during the Christmas holidays in 2016, and of course, there were chicken sellers everywhere. All you had to do was walk up to a seller, select a chicken, and you could decide to have it killed, de-feathered and cut up for you for a price by the seller’s assistant.
My friends and I were broke so we decided to try this assistant business out. We suffered. We burnt our hands from the hot water we had to use to de-feather the chickens, and the hot sun beat down on us for hours. The angry and impatient customers yelling at us didn’t help matters. And for what? Payment of less than ₦200 per processed chicken? God abeg.
Less than a week later, my mum eventually had to ban me from going back when I started looking pale. Fun times.
“I worked at a construction site”
— Onyeka*, 45
This was when I was a broke student at LASU. I think we were on strike, but my roommates and I couldn’t travel home because we didn’t have any money. For days, we depended on soaking garri until one day, I noticed another roommate eating rice.
Of course, we were all shocked and asked where he got the money. He was reluctant but later told us that he’d show us only if we promised we’d be able to do it. Broke men like us? We had no choice.
The next day, he took us to a construction site he found, and the site manager graciously hired us. We had to carry cement and sand all day for ₦500. When we got back to the hostel, I seriously thought I was going to die. My body ached like I had been passed through a grinder.
Ibuprofen came to the rescue sha and we kept going back until ASUU called off the strike.
I’m not proud of this, but I once had to sell my mum’s gold necklace without her knowledge to settle a debt.
I was in my third year of university, and things were hard at home. I was on the verge of missing out on my exams due to unpaid fees — about ₦30k. I had to borrow money. Not long after, the person I borrowed from started pressuring me to pay back. I kept posting him till he sent cultists to threaten me — apparently, his cousin was a cultist.
I knew my mum would never sell the necklace because it was a gift from my late dad, but my life was at stake. I think she knows I took it, but she never questioned me.
For about three years, I made a lot of money writing exams for people, including WAEC and polytechnic exams. It was very risky, and also involved heavily “sorting” invigilators, but it paid well.
I wouldn’t do it again, though — I have a proper job now, and I don’t think it’s as easy to impersonate students now, compared to 2009-2011. I also can no longer afford to risk getting jailed.
* Some names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
Is love really enough or is it all about money? How do you receive either when you had a broken childhood? These are the questions *Kate answered as she shared her story about loving an unfaithful partner she hoped would live up to her expectations of money. But when she finally decided to leave, Kate confronted the reality that a rich lover may not be the key to her happiness.
Here’s Kate’s story as told to Ortega
I was so sure I’d leave the moment I found out he cheated. Plagued by the cruel stories my aunties told me about what my mother experienced at the hands of an unfaithful and abusive man, I was sure I’d pack my bags. But there I was, convinced I could “fix things”.
It all started four months after he’d lost his dad in 2014. I was 18, so I didn’t have the balls to convince my Nigerian mother I needed to travel to my lover’s hometown. I tried to be there for him, but when you’re in different cities, it’s hard to love a grieving partner. I was convinced I was doing a good job though. On the days he couldn’t bear to talk on the phone, I made sure I left a text. I was stuck at home until school resumed. But I tried to push past the distance.
When I returned to school, I wanted to give my all to make sure he was okay. Being in the same faculty made it easier. We went to lunch every day, and we walked back home together almost every day. Heck, I was doing assignments for him when I had the chance. But little did I know that grief led him back to his ex during his father’s burial.
And the worst part? I found out just like the cliché tales you’ve probably heard — the paranoid girlfriend snooping through her boyfriend’s phone. Only this time, I wasn’t “paranoid”. It was completely random. I can’t explain what happened, but I felt the urge to search for his ex-girlfriend’s name on WhatsApp. For the first time in nine months of dating, I questioned his trust. And I found exactly what would break my heart.
What came after was, of course, a series of apologies. But while my head was telling me to gather my pride and move on, my heart was fixated on the fact that I’d given nine months of myself, investing in the potential of this guy who could build a financially secure future for the both of us — like I also intended to do l. And although we were just in our third year of school, I believed I was supposed to build the man I wanted. A man who was very different from my father.
He was kind and sweet, and he also had an idea of what it meant to own a business. I was hoping that the ideas would flourish as time went by. But then, he just seemed to have an idea every other month without any solid plan as to how he’d make a profit. When he made money, he gave it out at the slightest inconvenience any of his friends had. It’s either they needed money for food or to fix a phone. And while that was something I adored, it was something I’d seen my father do too often. To my father, every other person’s needs were always more important than mine.
But I felt obligated to stay. I wanted to help him think through business plans, manage the earnings from sales and find freelance jobs on the side — I felt it was my job to fix everything.
I believed I needed to go through a phase of financial struggle with him to truly earn his love. I’d seen it in the movies I watched and heard friends talk about the suffering they went through to get to a point of enjoyment with their lovers. Plus, he was the first person I’d ever opened up to about my family and he was there for me whenever I needed to talk. I felt the least I could do was be with him.
I also didn’t understand that becoming rich as a couple wasn’t equivalent to how long we’d financially struggled together. And I believed karma would catch up with me for wanting anything materialistic out of love. So I stayed.
We were together for another six months and to the best of my knowledge, he was faithful during that period. But everything in the relationship became utterly irritating. The lack of spontaneity dimmed my ability to really enjoy the relationship.
At first, I thought it was some kind of residual anger from finding out about the steamy make-out sessions with his ex. But then I kissed someone else and told him about it, and we were still both inclined to fight for our relationship. Maybe it was love? Or fear? I summed it up to the lack of passion and his inability to take charge of planning out any of our activities.
While my friends were going out on cute dates, I spent the entire relationship splitting bills. I love the “Independent woman” title, and I had money from side jobs to take us out. But it gets old when you expect your broke lover to step up after betraying your trust. The apologies and sweet texts were cute, but I wanted a lot more. I mean, imagine two years of dating and not a single dinner date? Not even for our anniversary.
At some point, I voiced my concerns, but then, I became an “inconsiderate” lover. Still, I was too scared to call it quits because I didn’t want to lose out on when his potential really came through. I didn’t want to end up with regrets about what could’ve been. So I waited.
Another year went by, and he started to earn money to buy gifts and take us to places, but everything was repetitive. Call me insatiable if you will. But after almost two years together, I expected my lover to know me like the back of his palm. Because I knew him that well. Why didn’t he know I hated getting slippers as a gift because of my enormous duck-shaped feet? Why didn’t he know the place that served my favourite type of fish? Why did I have to repeat how bored I’d grown of having dates at the cinema? The relationship was a boring cycle.
I truly believed he loved me. But after university, love wasn’t cutting it anymore. So I decided it was time to break up right before I had to go for my NYSC in 2018. Finding out he was still casually talking to his ex also triggered my decision. He admitted he only kept this from me out of fear, but I was done.
I couldn’t see myself dating anybody’s son who’s just starting out in life. I wanted someone who had life a lot more figured out financially. But when I got into another relationship the following year, it was hard. He had the money to sort out a lot more things, but I didn’t know how to accept his acts of kindness. To me, I had to go through some kind of suffering with him to really be entitled to the money. I was so sure true love only came from trying to fix each other. So, we fought a lot.
Since money wasn’t his problem, I wanted to amplify his faults. If he blinked the wrong way, I was going to blow it out of proportion. If we weren’t arguing over the most irrelevant issues, I was making a fuss about him buying me things. But when I complained about something, he’d fix it. If I was too sick, he’d take time off to take care of me. When you spend the better part of your childhood in a broken home, how do you receive love without being suspicious? Especially when it’s the one thing you’ve craved all your life.
It’s been nine months since my new relationship started in 2019. And it’s the first relationship in which I’m trying to experience love without feeling like I need to work for it. Like, I don’t need to do anything to receive from my partner. All I saw my mum do was give to my dad. Yet, there was never a moment he doted on her. I imagined it needed to be the same for me.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen that there’s much more to love than what I saw growing up, t. That there’s no karma for choosing to leave or stay with a partner who’s still building their life. If it feels right to walk away, I will. And while I’m growing to believe in love, I’m also starting to take as much as I’m willing to give because I deserve it.
In a world where women are ordering ₦16k spaghetti, I couldn’t understand how Chidi* managed to get himself into debt and find love at the same time. Well, if pigs could fly, he would be one of them because the streets are tough.
As told to Steffi O.
How the journey to debt began
I would’ve never believed that at 21 I’d find my first love and be in the middle of crawling my way out of a debt of ₦7.9 million. But that was me in 2019; broke, failing at school and deeply in love.
It all started when I got into university in 2014. I was 16 and studying a course I didn’t plan to. I didn’t want to be home for an extra year, so I decided to go in but focus on starting some kind of business. I read a lot of marketing and psychology books hoping to learn a few things about money. The main hurdle was raising the actual funds to begin.
I didn’t want to ask my parents for help. They were giving me ₦20k every month, and I wanted to find a way to make it work. It helped that items like sardine weren’t priced like gold at the time. Then, there were a few months of getting free food from at least one girl every day. But that lover boy phase crashed when I had two women wanting a lot more than the occasional make-out after a meal.
I was a church boy who’d never had sex. I just had a fine face and a deep voice. When it came down to offing pant, I was a clueless guy. So I fled.
Getting into forex trading and slowly digging myself into a rabbit hole
By my second year, my GP completely tanked. I was struggling with a second-class lower grade, and honestly, I was more interested in figuring out forex. I’d gotten into social media marketing and made some money after managing my church’s account. The little money I’d saved up from that and my allowance was decent enough to start trading forex with.
The exchange rate wasn’t bad. I earned $150 in four months from the initial ₦100k I put in. Compounding the interest took it to $1000 by the end of the year. I made enough money to rent an apartment close to uni by 2015. In my mind, I’d struck gold.
The next year, I wanted to expand my capital by getting more people to invest. I had a friend who’d also been trading, so it made sense to work as partners to raise the cash. On a good day, we could both make at least 50% of our capital back. In a month, that stretched into 300% of whatever we put in to trade at the beginning of the month. But the illusion that we were making big money led us down a rabbit hole.
In our 19-year-old minds, we’d unlocked something major. We were sure we could get people to invest and guarantee a profit of 120% per year. Compared to bank rates, it was like striking a pot of gold.
In 10 weeks, we raised ₦4.7 million from 12 people. I got my dad to put in some money, and some clients from my social media management gigs. The rookie mistake? Thinking that more money meant more profit in such a volatile system.
At first, I was trading $50 a day to make 50% back. But with more money, I was putting in at least $1000 a day with a higher risk of losing money on a bad market day. I was doing that with too little time to recuperate because of the ridiculous profit margin I promised people. I practically built my own death trap.
But things were going well before I caught on. In a little over a year, we made about ₦11 million and sorted out our investors with a million to spare. A couple of people wanted us to keep their capital and roll it over for the next year.
I decided to diversify the money into starting a logistics business while we traded on the side. I did a bit of angel investing in small start-ups and bargained for a profit. Life was pretty good in 2018.
We had more people join the investment plan and that took the initial capital from ₦4.7 to ₦7.9 million. With everything going on, in my 20-year-old mind, I was balling. I’d even gotten into a relationship. But she was more of a trophy girlfriend because I’d call like once in three days. I felt the money was good enough to keep her happy.
In a flash, 2018 moved from my best year to a nightmare. First, I found out my girlfriend had been cheating on me with one of my closest friends. Over the next six months, profits drastically dropped on forex. The logistics business was holding up until the biker had an accident and wrecked our bike. I didn’t even know where to start.
The biggest blow was realising my partner had been gambling with the money. It made sense because every time our monthly profits dropped, he would have an excuse for why he couldn’t show me the books. And I was taking the lamba for six months. Eventually, he owned up to putting the money up for bets, hoping to make double for himself.
That’s how I saw myself losing out on all the profit I’d anticipated. No business, my first serving of breakfast and a debt of ₦7.9 million to crawl my way out of.
In 2019, I had to cut back on my big boy spending. I packed my bags back to my family’s house. My grades were completely messed up, so let’s not even talk about school.
All I had in savings was $1000. And since I’d personally brought in all the investors, I had to ask for a year to figure out how to pay back their capital. Everything was on me. At that point, I wasn’t even going to class anymore. I just wanted to write my exams and leave school.
My whole world was practically crumbling, with my integrity on the line. I didn’t want to make the money back through forex because I was traumatised by everything that had already gone down. The only thing I could do was ask my aunt for a job at a firm. But with those earnings, I was looking at paying them back in three years. I felt trapped.
Look, I knew I couldn’t be thinking about love at that point. But I can’t explain why I wanted to get close to her when we met at my faculty. I just did. I played it safe because I didn’t know how to handle being so broke and trying to get with a babe.
The first thing I did was focus on being her friend. She was smart and probably top of her class. I on the other hand was praying I’d get to graduate and survive what I was going through. But when I finally got her number in December, I probably spoke to her every single day. She made everything better. The long days weren’t as overwhelming and she knew how to get me talking for a long time.
The truth is, being so broke made me a better lover. In my previous relationship, I could afford a fancy date that I felt made up for my weeks of absence. But this time, it was down to who I was as a person. It was a lot of work, but with this girl, I didn’t have a choice.
One thing’s for sure, I thank God for Chicken Republic in my life because that’s where I took her on what we could call our first date. To spice things up, I’d switch between places I could spend ₦5k at the most. And on the days I couldn’t afford anything, I’d cook for her — yes, she survived.
Maybe that’s the simplicity of university love. Being broke and in love wasn’t impossible if I could balance it out with being present for her.
The issue with this Nollywood spin-off of love in the trenches is I wasn’t willing to commit to the boyfriend tag. I knew she liked me. I mean, who sees a guy flying a bike to almost every date location and sticks around? I just couldn’t imagine dating someone as amazing as her without being able to take her to fast-food chain restaurants. I was too proud, and I knew at some point, she’d want more than I could offer.
I hadn’t told her I was in debt and flunking out of school at this point. But after our first kiss, I decided it was time to own up. It had been four weeks of seeing each other non-stop already. But before I could lay it all on the table, she cut in with the biggest blow I’d gotten in a while. It turned out that all the while we were together, this babe was in a relationship. And she was coming clean because of our kiss too.
I’d never been so torn on what to do. But I didn’t want to give my emotions away. I think the dumbest part was that I didn’t actually care she had a boyfriend. Where was he in the last month of us seeing every day? Clearly, she was over the guy.
I gave her some space to figure things out. And I took the break to crawl my way out of half the money I owed. I was aggressively trading crypto and went ham on freelancing for the whole year. Nothing else mattered at that point. I was 21, barely making any money for myself and felt trapped in my life. If I could get a grip, then her boyfriend didn’t matter.
By the end of 2020, her relationship ended. I wasn’t even applying pressure. Everything just scattered on its own. But I wanted to give her time to heal before jumping in to ask her out. I offered to drop her off at the airport when she needed to travel. I called occasionally but we texted almost every day. I didn’t give her too much space so she’d know I was serious about her.
At this point, I owed my last ₦150k. And I told her about the debt. She didn’t seem unsettled by it, but we talked about how much the next year of my life would be focused on recovering from the loss.
Honestly, I’m happy I found this woman at the lowest point of my 20s. I don’t know if she’d had any doubts along the way, but being able to gather the ₦7.9 million in three years makes me trust that I can figure things out and make a life for us.
I can’t deny that it’s been easy because she’s out of school, and I’m taking one last course to wrap things up. She’s even off for her Master’s soon. It’s been nine months of officially dating and we’ve found some sort of balance. Of course, money is still an integral part of creating memories. But we’re also the type of people who are happy strolling down the crazy streets of Lagos to find perfectly fried yam and akara to pair with a wacky Youtube video.
Can our love stand the test of being in very different phases of life? I’m only 23, so I’m mostly hoping. The only thing I know for now is that I found love when I didn’t think I was worth loving.
It’s been a week since payday, and I’ve spent every day since then looking at my account balance, trying to figure out where my monthly reward for capitalism went. I have no idea what happened to it. And if you’re anything like me, you don’t remember what happened to yours either. If you’re being sincere, you’re definitely one of these seven babes when money hits your account.
1. The remote worker hopping cafes
Remote work is great until you realise that you’ve convinced yourself that you need a change of environment every other week to focus. The next thing you know, you’re clocking in 9-5 every day at yet another bougie cafe, buying a thimble of coffee for ₦6702. That’s an average of ₦180k by the end of the month on caffeine water alone.
Is that really the life you signed up for?
2. The gym babe who’s really deceiving herself, not us
You won’t let us see road on Snapchat with your “grass smoothies and avocado porridge for breakfast” posts. You have all the equipment and impractical gym wear for working out. Be honest, though. How many times have you actually worked out?
You’re spending your life savings buying stylish workout clothes and also have a gym membership that keeps getting automatically renewed every month. What’s going on, girl? Start off with a skipping rope, and work your way up to the gym, okay?
You’re the designated enjoyment minister and sugar mummy who is always down for a good time. You deserve the title of Pasta Queen because of the small fortune you spend on Lagos restaurant bolognese every month. Your mantra is “YOLO,” and you keep screaming it every chance you get, but deep down, you know it’ll end in tears.
4. Dora the explorer
You’re always on the move. Any small thing, you’ve posted, “Catch flights, not feelings.” This is where all your money goes. If there’s any small stress in life, we can’t even console you because you’ll already be on a plane to your next destination and there’s no network. Well done, ma.
5. The boss babe with a huge wardrobe
You’re the 9-5 babe with power suits in every colour. Kate Henshaw’s character in Blood Sisters has nothing on you when it comes to insane outfits. The number of bags in your wardrobe can probably fund someone’s election campaign. You never fail to be the hottest in a room, but you have to admit that you have a huge shopping problem. For the love of God, get help before you end up homeless.
You were Todrick Hall’s muse when he wrote his hit song, Wig. There’s no wig you don’t own, and I’m lowkey here for it. But also, are you possessed? How many bone-straight wigs can you own? Once money hits your account, you’ll start attacking Instagram wig vendors left and right.. Please, rest.
7. The aspiring chef
If you’re not baking, you’re experimenting with a new recipe you saw on Youtube. Your middle name should be “Plenty Spice” because tell me why you have Himalayan rock salt and oregano in your kitchen. Your dream is to host a revival of Maggi Family Menu. Sisi Yemmie no do pass you.
There was a time I thought I couldn’t survive without eating roasted catfish. Gone are those days, my dear. With the way prices are going up, I’m convinced that I don’t need meat or fish in my food again. How about you though? Here are the foods ten Nigerians are cancelling for the sake of their account balances.
1. “I’ve convinced myself that corned beef is too unhealthy to be almost ₦2k.”
— Ebere, corned beef
Everyone talks about how expensive sardine is, but how about its cousin, corned beef? In 2015, I could eat it with every meal because the big can was just about ₦500. If I was frying eggs, cooking jollof rice, or just looking for something to munch, I’d add corned beef. Now, not even the smallest can of corned beef is ₦500. It’s triple the price, and I’ve convinced myself that it’s too unhealthy to eat. This isn’t life sha.
2. “It’s not like my salary doubled, so why am I still buying grapes?”
— Uche, grapes
I’m the kind of mum who wants her kids to have fruits every day. I stay in Abuja, and at some point, I could buy apples and grapes for my two kids for ₦4000, and it would last two weeks. Now, I spend the same amount for half the quantity. It’s not like my salary doubled since January 2022, so how can I keep up? I’m convinced they can do without grapes. After all, Ribena has vitamins too. At least, a carton can last for two weeks. 3.
3. “I really don’t need shrimps to survive.”
— Lanre*, shrimps
Shrimps used to be my go-to seafood. There was a time I couldn’t live without them, but look at me now, thriving in Bubu’s economy. Last year, a small portion of shrimps was ₦1200, but in a matter of months, they’re going for ₦1900. That’s a no for me, please.
4. “I can’t look at the price of turkey without getting angry.”
— Pam*, turkey
The price of turkey has doubled in the last two years. I thought not eating it would be the death of me, but seeing how much it costs makes me so angry now. I spent ₦3600 the last time I closed my eyes to buy a kilogram of turkey. I can’t keep doing that. Since chicken breasts cost the same thing, I’ve decided that it’s a healthier option for me.
5. “I don’t mind if soda kills me.”
— Linda*, black Bullet and 5Alive Berry Blast
Black Bullet once retailed for ₦350. The moment the price reached ₦800, my alcoholism was cured right away. The other thing is 5Alive Berry Blast. I would drink it every time, forming “it’s healthier than soda.” When it reached ₦500, I realised that soda can kill me, I don’t mind.
6. “I went from eating steak bi-weekly to only monthly.”
— Maxwell*, steak
I used to buy steak bi-weekly for about ₦7k – ₦15k, from supermarkets around Lagos. Now, I buy it online, and to be fair, the price isn’t significantly cheaper than in the stores. Also, I can’t keep eating it every other week, so I’m down to just once a month.
7. “I can’t think of buying suya anymore.”
—Chinwe, suya
There was a time I could get a stick of suya for ₦500. Right now, that amount buys like six small pieces of suya, and that’s if the vendor likes you. They don’t even garnish it with onions and cabbage anymore. How am I supposed to drink garri without decent suya? Even the milk I’m trying to maintain is getting so expensive.
8. “Until the price comes down, I’ll live without plantain.”
— Chris, plantain
In 2016, ₦200 could get me enough plantain to eat with beans, and still cook into a porridge the next day. It’s 2022, and I can’t even buy a banana for ₦200. I didn’t actually stop buying plantain with my money until ₦1000 became useless though. I love plantain, but I’ll wait for the price to come down.
9. “Granola for ₦3k can’t work for me.”
— Chuka, granola and pringles
How pringles went from ₦600 to ₦1200 in a matter of months still shocks me. I can’t even imagine swiping my card to pay for it anymore, so it’s been almost six months since I had any. Then, there’s the granola that I used to eat for breakfast every day of my life. When it went up to ₦3k, I knew that the mallam’s bread and fried eggs close to my office were good enough for me.
10. “I’ll fully break up with shawarma when my guy starts selling to me at the normal price.”
— Mark*, shawarma
In 2019, I was working in Yaba, Lagos, and shawarma cost ₦400 or ₦500. I’d buy at least three almost every night! In 2020, it jumped to ₦800 or ₦1k, and I stopped buying so much. Eventually, it went up to ₦2k in Lagos, and by the time I moved to Anambra in 2021, it cost almost the same there. My only saving grace now is one particular shawarma guy. He sells to me at a special price, two for ₦1600 each, because I’m consistent. The day he decides not to sell, it’s all over.
The Tinder Swindlers and Anns of the world are scattered amongst us. Sometimes they’re disguised as Instagram vendors, other times as friends we’ve known for a long time. In this article, eight Nigerians shared their stories of being scammed. Trust Nigerians to bring their own werey to the mix.
1. “It could have been jazz, but I’ll never know”
— Ben, 28
In 2005, I was 10 and living in Mushin. My grandmother sent me on an errand. She used to sell provisions and wanted me to go buy coconut snacks we used to eat back then — I’ve forgotten what it’s called. She gave me ₦1k and I was off. The whole day started on a bad note: first, an okada hit me while I tried to cross the road from my house. It wasn’t serious, so I kept going. At the next junction, the same thing almost happened again. I was already stressed.
As I got to the market, an elderly woman stopped me. She asked me to help her buy groundnuts while she held my money for me. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I obliged. By the time I came back, the woman had gone. I didn’t even know what to do. When I went back home, grandma just told me it was jazz. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but it was my first taste of the lies Nigerians tell.
2. “I searched for the store for hours and never found it”
— Annie, 25
In 2016, I suffered because of an Instagram page. I was in 300 level and there was a promo for wigs happening. It was a buy one, get one free promo. The wigs cost ₦20k each, so getting two for ₦20k didn’t seem like a bad deal. I got four of my friends to join me so we could rock the new wigs together. So as a group, we paid ₦100k. The vendor told me the package would arrive in three weeks max. It never did. I had four girls on my neck and it wasn’t funny. I kept calling and sending the vendors texts.
When she finally responded, she told me to come to the address on her page. She mentioned losing someone in her family and struggling to stay focused. I understood. Next thing, I was on my way to Lagos Island. I got to the address and the building was just a warehouse. I trekked around for at least an hour hoping to find a building with her store name. Nothing. I kept calling the number and it wasn’t reachable. That’s how I had ₦80k gbese to cover.
3. “She tried to frame me for fraud”
— Yetunde, 53
In 1999, I worked at the bank. I was 26 and quite naive at the time. As one of the youngest people at my bank, it was easy for me to make friends. I got closer to one of the older women. She seemed very interested in my life and gave me tips on getting through hectic days at the bank. Sometimes, we’d end up hanging out on the weekends. She seemed pretty harmless.
Who would have thought she’d try to frame me for fraud? She felt I was getting too close to one of the customers. But rather than talking to me about it, she went straight to the branch manager and told him I had plans to defraud the bank with my lover. She claimed I had been signing off on unauthorised cheques to grant him access to more money than he had. Why did she do this? I have no clue. I only got out of the situation because of a co-worker that knew the customer personally. When he heard the matter, he spoke up for me. If that didn’t happen, I would have lost my job.
4. “I can’t tell my kids I lost ₦3 million to crypto”
— Lucy, 46
My kids had been telling me about crypto and I decided to try it in 2021. I didn’t want to ask them for help though. I felt I could figure it out on my own. A friend had gifted me ₦3 million, so I decided to give it to a guy that always talked about crypto. A month went by and there was no feedback from the guy. I asked him what was going on and he just kept putting me off, saying something about the dip. It’s been a year and I haven’t heard from him. He conveniently resigned while I went on leave. I didn’t make too much noise because it wasn’t the money I worked for. I didn’t tell even told my kids because I’d never hear the last of it.
5. “Instagram hackers fooled us”
— Sandra, 24
My mum and I knew someone on Instagram. He was a direct friend and randomly posted about getting ₦20k for ₦5k. He wasn’t into money doubling, he just claimed he had done it with some guy. I sent a dm and he told me it was legit. Since we knew him, it was easy to trust. When I sent the money, he also asked for ₦5k bank charges to send the money. At this point, we should have noticed the red flags, but we didn’t. We sent the money. After a few minutes of texting back and forth on when the money would be sent, he blocked me. Turned out that the guy we knew had been hacked.
6. “I thought he was in danger, so I sent the money”
— Daniel, 30
A friend called claiming to be at the police station. He sounded disoriented and needed ₦15k to settle the officers with credit or cash. The number didn’t have a name, but I felt the voice was familiar. I didn’t even think twice. I bought the airtime and sent it straight to the phone. About a week later, I saw the friend I assumed was at the other side of the call and asked him if he was okay after the “incident”. He was confused.
7. “Computer Village has always been a mad place”
— Daniel, 37
10 years ago, I went to Computer Village to buy a phone. I met a guy on the street and we settled for ₦38k. He handed me the phone. When the guy counted the money, he was claiming it wasn’t complete. So he asked me to hand him the phone while I re-counted to confirm. I did and as expected, it was complete. When I told him, he said it was a mistake on his part. He handed me back the phone and disappeared into the crowd. When I finally checked the phone as I walked back to take a bus, the phone pack was loaded with dirt. I still don’t understand how he switched phones so quickly. I couldn’t even shout. The whole place was crowded.
Just this Tuesday, I was on my way to work. The bus fare from my house is ₦100 and I had ₦700 on me. I wanted more change so I gave the driver the ₦500 rather than the ₦200 note. When I handed him the money, I was focused on my phone, chatting away. I absent-mindedly asked for my change, but the driver didn’t answer. I wasn’t close to my bus stop yet, so I didn’t stress. I went back to chatting. When I got to my bus stop, I didn’t remember about the change until he was driving off. The one time I needed Lagos traffic, the whole roads were free. That’s how I ended up leaving ₦400 with the man — money that was meant to be for lunch. I’m still so angry.
After the Nigerian government and people who eat semo, inflation is up there among the reasons living in Nigeria is a struggle. The others are heat, fuel scarcity or the fact that you don’t own a pet goat.
If you’re unfamiliar with the term, inflation describes the increasing price of goods and services. When people’s salaries aren’t increasing, that’s where the real problem is. In more Nigerian terms, inflation is the reason sardine is gold. In the past three years, the price of sardine has moved from ₦180 to ₦600. In the middle of all this, ₦10k in 2019 feels like ₦1k in 2022. Do you get the flow? Whenever prices skyrocket, that surge is an increase in inflation.
So, how are business owners managing the ever-increasing cost of goods? In this article, eight small-business owners talk about navigating inflation.
1. “Shipping and clearing fees are the absolute ghetto”
— Wigmaker
I’ve been running my wig business since 2017. Typically, I order hair from Vietnam, so the value of Naira affects me badly. Since 2017, the exchange rate has moved from ₦300 to $1 to about ₦360 to $1 in 2019 and now, we’re trading at ₦450-₦500 to $1.
In 2019, when I shipped goods worth 10kg, I was charged $5-$7 per kg. It wasn’t cheap, but at least it was easier to cover the cost than it is now. I could buy the weaves at ₦40k and add in ₦30k-₦40k to sell at profit to also cover my shipping and clearing cost. Now, I can barely do that.
In 2021, my shipping cost moved from a maximum of $7 to $12 for the same 10kg of hair. There were times I had to work at an exchange rate of $570-$620. That’s almost double my initial cost for shipping and clearing goods in 2019. I struggled to cover the cost and, my profit margin plummeted. From buying weaves at ₦40k in 2019, it’s doubled to ₦90k by the middle of 2021. Now, I sell based on pre-orders. It’s the only way to avoid buying so many weaves and selling very few in a matter of months. Honestly, the situation is tough.
2. “I’ve gone from buying butter at ₦8k to ₦ 18k”
— Baker
Right now, raw materials have doubled or tripled in price. For instance, in 2018 I used to buy a tub of butter for ₦8k- ₦ ₦10k. Now, I buy the tub for ₦18-₦20k. Raw materials are also scarce because brands can’t afford to manufacture at the same rate. People now produce counterfeit or low-quality products to maintain customers. In 2022, it takes a good baker to identify the fake products in the market.
I’ve lost customers because of the review in my price, and getting more has been so difficult. In 2018, people typically ordered cakes and small chops for fun. Now? No one orders a cake or box of small chops for leisure. If it’s not an important event like a birthday or anniversary, demand is quite low.
My profit margin has significantly decreased. It’s either I’m covering the cost on my end, or not getting customers at all. Even when Nigerians order, it’s budget cakes — ₦10k, ₦12k — anything more doesn’t happen as much. I can’t even think of expanding as a business. Beyond the poor market, I can’t think of buying an industrial oven with my account balance. The business will suffer.
3. “There are no customers for us to cover the cost of rent”
— Salon owner
Two years after losing my bank job, I decided to open up a saloon in 2013. I wasn’t interested in making hair, I only wanted to sub-let to hairdressers and barbers. The rent was about ₦600k, and I was sub-letting for ₦20k per month. People flocked at the offer — I got six hairdressers, a nail technician and two barbers. As the years went by, the rent increase. I moved from paying ₦600k to ₦800k in five years.
By then, the price for each space gradually increase. 2018, half of the hairdressers couldn’t cover the cost and left. We went from busy weekdays and weekends to barely any customers during peak hours on a Saturday. Eventually, we were down to three people. Currently, my rent is ₦800k. My profit margin moved from nearly ₦150k in 2013 to barely ₦100k between the three people currently in the saloon. Some months I have to overlook the payment because honestly, there are no customers for them.
4. “To keep my customers, I sell cooking gas based on how buoyant a person looks”
— Gas retailer
In 2009, I started selling cooking gas. When I started, gas was selling at ₦2k for 12.5kg and ₦9k-₦10k for the 50kg. Now, 12.5kg is going at ₦7950 and the 50kg is ₦31,800. That’s even when the gas is filled. For the empty cylinders, the 12.5kg was ₦6k-₦8k, while the 50kg cylinder was ₦26k-28k. Now, those 50kg cylinders are sold from ₦40k upwards. How do the retailers gain any profit? My profit margin was at least ₦1k in 2009 and relatively stayed the same because customers won’t buy if the gas is too expensive. So I’m earning the same thing in an economy where ₦1k is like ₦100.
To push it up a bit, I started selling based on how buoyant a customer looked. If you’re a rich man or woman, I’ll add the ₦500 another person can’t pay inside your cost. Since the economy doesn’t favour me, I have to find a way to keep customers.
5. “Fruits are like gold in the market”
— Juice seller
When I started selling fresh juice with my mum, we were selling a bottle for as low as ₦350-400. That was 2020. While we were using recycled bottles, we were making a profit of ₦200 per bottle. Then we began to make branded bottles and it dropped to about ₦120-₦150. It’s been two years since we started and we had to review our prices in January 2020. Between the fire incident at the store and the cost of fruits like pineapples and oranges, it was inevitable. The plan was to always maintain our price at ₦500 per bottle now, it’s going from ₦1k-₦2k. With the cost of production, it’s impossible.
6. “Stop swearing for tailors”
— Fashion designer
I’ve been a fashion designer since 2013. Although I took breaks in between to focus on my family, I ran my business on the side. The cost of production has continuously, but this fuel scarcity has made my life miserable. My transformer blew and now I’m at the mercy of NEPA. When there’s no light, I still need to run my light machines, so buying fuel is inevitable.
Now, I’m buying fuel at ₦400 per litre and my earnings from the clothes I’m currently sewing, won’t cover that cost. Logistics is also expensive and customers aren’t patient enough to understand. In a matter of months, I’ve had to review my prices. I can’t even afford to buy an industrial machine I was able to afford in 2018. Now, it’s ₦140k — double the initial price.
7. “Customers need to understand, we’re in a pandemic of our own”
— Restaurant owner
In 2019, I started my restaurant business in university. By March 2020, I was able to expand into a bigger space in uni, but the pandemic shut us down within weeks. Deliveries were the only way to keep running. At that point, prices of foodstuffs were already going up, but I didn’t want to review my prices. Students were our main customers, so increasing prices would have been detrimental. 2021 was a whole other level for us. We went from paying about ₦300 per litre for diesel in 2020 to about ₦400 in 2021. Last week it was ₦510. Now, it’s ₦555. That’s more than a 50% increase on diesel alone. Imagine the cost of electricity bill or foodstuff?
While the prices go up, we still have the government coming down our throats with tax. The situation is appalling. It feels like business owners are going through another pandemic on their own.
8. “I have to pay my staff out of pocket”
— Hairdresser
I’ve had a shop at Garki market, Abuja, for ten years. The service charge used to be ₦15k per year in 2012 and now, it’s ₦30k. The saving has been my landlord not increasing rent. However, keeping up with my staff’s salary is difficult. When I got my first set of staff in 2015, I was paying them ₦12k- ₦19k depending on their location. Now, it’s not even significant to how much they spend on transport. I’ve had to review their salary to ₦20k- ₦25k. In the bad months, it’s out of my pocket.
These loan apps are on a mission to disgrace you with those bulk messages they’re sending to your contacts. Fear not brethren, because as always, we’re here with a solution. Any of these ten ideas will help you avoid embarrassment and hold onto the money you borrowed without paying back.
1. Deny it
Look, there’s a possibility that this thing may not work for you, and if that’s the case, it’s clearly your village people. The next step for you should be to deny everything those messages said. All you need is a broadcast message that highlights your integrity accuse those apps of blasphemy. Post the message everywhere and look away.
2. Hack them
This is another reason to be a tech bro and we’ve already shown you how. So copy-paste some code and see your name disappear from their system. You’re welcome.
3. Use a fake ID
Trust me, Werey dey disguise can work here. Just use your enemy’s driver’s license and passport. Frustrate your enemies and cash out in their name; that’s how to kill two birds with one stone.
4. Get a lawyer
That your cousin in 300 Level studying law is your best option. Get them involved and drag those beeshes to court for defaming your character and tarnishing your image.
5. Buy the dip
When you hear crypto guys saying, “Buy the dip, buy the dip,” it’s actually not a joke. Use that loan to buy the dip and cash out. You may end up being rich enough to japa and block everyone on your contact list. It’s called starting afresh.
6. Don’t care
Take a page from Uncle Bubu’s lesson notes. Nigeria is in debt, so who are you to pay up? Have you ever seen Uncle Bubu come and explain the situation to us? No. So forget about the messages and enjoy your life.
7. Carry two odds
If you didn’t understand this term, skip to the next option. This one is for the big boys on the streets. You can get ahead of this thing and pay back with one small bet. Make sure it’s not Arsenal and you’ll probably be alright. If you lose, that’s your business. We’ve tried.
8. Diversify your loans
You’re everywhere, but you’re nowhere at the same time. How many people can believe you borrowed money from five different apps? A boss like you? That’s an insult you won’t stand for.
9. Enter politics
Nigerian politicians have hacked the whole system of broad daylight robbery. Join them. All you need to do is announce your intention to run for President. Your tag line should be Representing the youths. When you win, the rest is history.
10. Start a GoFundMe
Nigerians can be stingy, but a good story will get you the money you need. We can’t guarantee that someone won’t catch you, but at least you would have collected the money to pay back the loan in time.
If you find yourself in any of these seven categories, just know that you’re one step away from doing bambiala on the streets with a bucket.
1. You’re always outside
This is a safe space, so be honest. Are you really outside for premium enjoyment or did your landlord send you packing?
2. You’re not paying tithe
Don’t allow Mummy G.O catch you. Better pack the money to her church on Sunday so it can increase. By now, if you check the list of people already going to hell, you’re already there. But at least try and make sure you’re not going to suffer here too before you enter hell fire.
3. You’ve not done your 2021 appraisals yet
If you’re a slave to capitalism, are you sure you’re safe this year? If things go south, do you have any savings or will you be spending 2022 under a bridge?
4. You’re dating an Abuja big boy/girl
You’re just one phone call away from lending them the money to lock down a hooge deal. Just make sure they’re not living in a borrowed car first because nobody will put money in your Gofundme.
5. Your read receipts are off
If you can’t use your full chest to turn on your blue ticks, then you’re probably owing money you can’t return without suffering.
.
6. You dine in Lagos restaurants
If you’re out on the streets of Lagos enjoying spaghetti bolognese and creamy pasta every week, you’re only one step away from packing your bags to the village.
7. You can only imagine enjoyment
In December you were shouting, ”Don’t worry about my destiny,” now, you can only afford memories of enjoyment. It is well.
Every single year you’re chasing the bag, but where are the millions in your account? While we understand that you deserve that baby boy/baby girl lifestyle on a yacht in Dubai, we’re pretty sure at least one of these eight things have hooked your millionaire lifestyle somewhere.
If you said no every time your mother said, “Come now, let me keep it for you,” we could have been on the Forbes list. You may have chopped slap or ended up homeless, but at least you would have kept the money for yourself.
2. Data and airtime
Everyday 1k here 2k here. Just hold your calculator and add up everything you’ve spent this week alone on data or airtime, that’s where the millions have been hiding in your life.
3. You missed the dip
When your mates were investing in crypto you were there explaining how everything is a scam and how you don’t believe in free money. Well, it’s another day of hardwork o, where are the millions?
4. Last borns
All they know how to do is beg, blackmail, enjoy your hard earned money buying rubbish, while disrespecting us. These are the thieves in our lives and they need to be destroyed.
5. You’ve refused to be a sugar baby
You’re forming, “I can’t, I can’t.” My dear, that’s why your account can’t as well. Nobody can shame the shameless on these streets. Better come outside and collect this money with your full chest.
6. Baba Dudu and Goody Goody
You may have been competing with Dangote if you didn’t spend all the five-five naira you received on sweets as a child.
7. Your father
Where was he when his mates were chopping from the national cake? Just go and ask him, then fight for your inheritance.
8. Your village people are alive and well
May your destiny be released from the clutches of the people that have said no to the millions in your life. You can connect with Mummy G.O. for more results.
9. No savings to your name
Your response to everything is, “I only live once. if I perish, I perish.” I hope you can see the single digits in your bank account. My only advice is for you to buy those wooden kolos that only carpenters can open for you.
10. Love
Your millions have entered a well at this point, and I don’t know if we can find it again. If you’re not going to eat at one fancy restaurant, you’re out on the streets professing love with gifts. I’m sure you’ve even booked your date for Valentine’s day. Continue.
There are some basic things that should be available at ATMs and since no one is talking about it, we have decided to highlight 8 of them in this article.
1. Chairs
Dear Nigerian banks, If you are going to have an atm gallery with just one atm working, providing chairs is the least you can do. You never know, while sitting down, more people might decide to save that last 1k instead of withdrawing it for shawarma.
2. Ramps
Of course, ramps should be available at ATMs you must always take into account your disabled customers, it’s a basic corporate social responsibility you owe your customers.
3. Food trucks
Sometimes the queue can be very long and if you step away for a second, Nigerians can almost break your head when you come back. Imagine holding hot amala in one hand and twenty thousand naira debit slip in the other. With these few points of ours, we hope we’ve been able to convince you to make this happen.
4. Money doubler
Honestly, this is an essential service all banks should make available at ATMs. When people withdraw their last cash, who wouldn’t want the option to double it for no extra fee of course? Banks should cover the extra cost with all the money they randomly collect for no reason.
5. Umbrellas
If asking for chairs is too much, surely this is a cheaper ask. The sun is always somehow hotter when money is leaving your account. Will they get stolen, possibly, but that’s not the point. Nigerians are a lot nicer when they aren’t standing under the hot sun.
6. Wall socket
The queues are always so long, this is the least banks can do, to be honest. Sometimes the brain can forget the account number you are supposed to transfer money to, so you type it into your phone. While waiting in the queue your phone goes off, that’s almost two hours of your life gone for no reason. Having a wall socket would make life better.
7. Handkerchief dispenser
All ATMs should come with this feature. As so as you eject your debit card, a handkerchief should come out with it so that you can clean your tears before spending that money you don’t have. Will people go there at night, pretending to withdraw so they can steal as many handkerchiefs as possible? Yes, but think of it as a way of creating jobs.
8. Queue for old people
These guys are the cause of all the drama and fights that happen at ATMs. The best solution is to give them a queue of their own so they can shout and demand respect from each other and society can be at peace again.
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.
This week’s Naira Life is brought to you by QuickCredit. With QuickCredit, you not only get the funds you need instantly, but you also get to pay back at the lowest interest rate in Nigeria.
The first time the guy in this story tried to make money, he was beaten for it. Years later, he became a product manager and was slowly building up his wealth until a work mishap sent him out of a job and wiped out his life savings. Two years later, he’s building it back up and at $9800/month; it’s never been easier.
What’s your oldest memory of money?
It dates back to 1994 when I was in primary three or four, I stole ₦20 from my mum to buy some biscuits and sweets for a teacher so I could become their favourite student. I said it was from my mum. Unfortunately for me, the following week was Open Day and the teacher thanked my mum for the gifts. When we got home, she asked me to explain and I came clean. I got the beating of my life.
Wiun. Could you paint a picture of what it was like growing up?
My mum was a teacher in the civil service and my dad was a jack of all trades. What both of them made wasn’t always enough for a family of eight. Things were especially tough during periods when the government owed my mum salaries or times when my dad’s businesses didn’t do so well. We were pretty much alternating between plenty and lack for the longest time.
Do you remember the first time you made money?
1997, and I was about 10 years old. I had friends who worked at the local market. They helped people carry their goods for a fee. I asked to follow them one day to observe how they worked. After watching for a while, I joined them. I made ₦16 on that evening and was so proud of myself. Unfortunately, one of my church members saw me and reported to my mum. I got another round of beating for “embarrassing the family and making people think we were hungry.”
I don’t even remember what I used the money for anymore. But I stayed off trying to do anything for money until I got into university to study computer science. This was in 2005.
What was the next thing you did for money?
I helped someone write a math exam in the second semester of my first year, and I got ₦2k for it. I got over the guilt of what I had done when I got the money. For context, my allowance from home was ₦1k/month.
When I got to my second year, he introduced me to another guy who had missed out on school for the entire semester due to a personal tragedy. He was going to write six exams that semester, and I agreed to do it for ₦6k per course. That brought in ₦36k.
I knew it was illegal and could get into a lot of trouble, so I pivoted into something different in my third year.
What was this?
I started a tutorial centre to teach students in the lower levels. The centre caught on, and I was always booked and busy during the exam periods. On the side, I was writing final year projects and seminar papers for final year students. On average, I was making more than ₦150k per semester. I did these things until I left university in 2011. By that time, I had about ₦1m in savings.
Hmm.
One of my cousins was going to a university in the UK that year, and I started thinking about the possibility of going abroad for my master’s degree. He directed me to the affiliate centre that helped him with the whole process, and I went there to make enquiries. But I missed the floor and found myself at an I.T training centre. Somehow, the facilitator of the centre convinced me to get some certifications with them instead and showed me a pathway of how I could use this to get into tech. I thought it sounded good, so I paid for six certifications in software development and network engineering. It cost me ₦600k.
The courses lasted for six months. The centre retained me as a facilitator after I finished my programme and paid me ₦15k/month. On the side, I was also looking for a better paying job, but nothing came until NYSC in 2012.
Two weeks before my service year ended, I got a job as a systems and server admin with a contractor doing some IT work for the government.
How much was the pay?
₦90k. But I also had to be transferred to a state in the south-south. However, I was at the job for only three months. I resigned in May 2013.
Ah, why?
I found out that my chances of growth were low. On my team, there were people who had been working there for two to three years and were still at the same income level they were when they joined. I didn’t want that for myself. I’ll admit that I made the decision because I had a bit of savings. ₦450k.
Fair enough. What came after?
Unemployment. I was at home for five months.
Uh-oh.
I was getting interviews but I either didn’t think the companies I was interviewing with were the right fit for me or they were offering me ridiculous salaries. I was bent on not accepting any offer below ₦100k and these companies were offering me ₦40k or ₦50k.
By the fifth month, I had burnt through my savings and had ₦70k left. I was beginning to realise that saving money only works if you’re earning.
Thankfully, a company reached out to me in October 2013. Someone at my last job had referred me to them. I got an offer almost immediately after I did my interview. They wanted me to come join them as IT support staff and my starting salary was ₦90k. Not the ₦100k I was looking for, but it was close.
I get that. How long did you spend there?
Six months. I left in March 2014 after I got a better offer from an FMCG company. They brought me on as an IT lead and my salary was ₦150k. This was probably one of the most toxic places I’ve worked at.
Why, what happened?
First, an IT lead was the highest role for the Nigerians who worked there. The supervisor positions and other superior roles went to foreigners. So, there was no opportunity for growth for me. I spent six months there and left in August 2014 after an argument with one of the supervisors.
Here’s where it got interesting: they didn’t accept my resignation.
Why not?
A lot of the foreigners on the team were in violation of their visas, and they feared I would report them to immigration if I left like that. They gave me an offer instead: they would pay my salary for six months if I didn’t get another job within that time frame. I accepted it.
Sweet.
I got a new job lead at a fintech company about two weeks after I left. Two months and a series of interviews later, they offered me a senior IT role. My basic salary was ₦250k, but there was an extra ₦30k transport allowance, which brought my total monthly earnings to ₦280k. Another ₦150k was coming in from my last job. In total, I was earning ₦430k until November 2014. Somehow, my former workplace found out that I had gotten another job and stopped the payments.
Hehe. How did it go at the fintech company?
Oh, it was great. I spent three years there. A lot of growth and learning happened there, so I wasn’t in a rush to leave. However, I never got a salary raise even once. It probably wouldn’t have mattered much, but I got married in 2015, so I had to earn more. Ultimately, it was one of the reasons I left.
Another fintech company had been trying to bring me on board, but I didn’t give them a lot of attention. I accepted their invitation to interview when I made a decision to leave the company I was with at the time. They liked me, and I got the job. Like that, my salary grew from ₦280k to ₦650k. It was a massive move I should have made earlier.
It does seem that way.
Haha. Apart from my salary, there was at least one bulk payout in every quarter of the year: leave allowance in March, performance bonus in June, Profit from the previous business year in September, and end of the year bonus in December.
Could you tell me a bit about how you navigated money at the time?
I was saving 40% of my monthly salary. The remaining 60% was spread across other expenses, mostly household expenses and black tax. At the end of everything, my core savings was enough to cover house rent, which was ₦1.8m.
The bonuses I got on the job went into investments.
What kind of investments?
Bank investments. Treasury bills were hot and at an all-time high, bringing in 13% – 14% per year. I also had a fixed deposit account I was putting money into. By 2018, I had gathered ₦6m in core savings and investments.
Then something happened.
Uh-oh.
At the fintech where I worked, I was on a product team where we managed high network individuals. We helped them buy international portfolios and investments to reduce tax.
Everything ran smoothly until December 2018. I got a call from work and was notified that the infrastructure we used to facilitate these transactions had been exposed. What had happened was that the systems could not verify if the transactions we had made on that day to the BDCs — who were the middlemen — were successful, so we ended sending money to these people more than twice. And these were large volumes of money — $30k here, $20k there, some were more than that.
By January 2019, we had recovered most of it. But the other BDC agents went underground with the money. The total debt that was on our head was $2m.
Ehn? This sounds like a nightmare.
It was. The affected High Net Worth Individuals were on the company’s neck. Before long, the regulators got wind of it and everything spiralled out of control. My line manager resigned. I was next in line, so I had to be the fall guy.
When the regulators came knocking, they seized the assets of everyone on my team to recover the money. All the money I thought I had went up in smoke.
How much?
About ₦8.2m. They also took two cars belonging to me and my wife and some pieces of land I had bought. I was at level 0.
Damn.
The company asked me to resign, so I was without a job for the most part of 2019. Marrying my best friend saved me. My wife took over providing for the family on her ₦200k salary.
Seven other people were affected by the asset freezes, and we were fighting it in court. But I pulled out in 2019 because I realised how long court cases in Nigeria can drag on. I had to move on.
What did moving on look like for you?
For starters, I had to figure out how to make rent in October. Thankfully, there was something to look forward to.
What was that?
Before the whole situation started, I had been talking with some Chinese acquaintances about the possibility of bringing in Android POS machines into the country, and I had paid ₦700k for it. In March 2019, 10 POS machines were delivered to me. I had the infrastructure and configuration skills, but zero coding skills to integrate the POS into the Nigerian payment gateways and teach them how to read ATM cards. I went back to the same fintech company I worked at the previous year and convinced two friends to work on it with me, promising them 15% equity each. After five months, we figured it out.
Agent banking was already becoming popular in the country, so it wasn’t hard to find 10 agents. I got ₦120k in revenue from the 10 machines in the first month. It increased to ₦300k in the second month.
Then I ran into another problem.
What was it this time?
Regulators again. I got an email and they informed me that I was running the operation without a license. That’s how I was back to fighting for my life. I still had a relationship with the MD of the last fintech company I worked with, so I thought I could leverage it. After a series of back and forth, the company bought me out and paid me ₦10m for the POS machines and the solution I had built.
Whew.
I paid my guys ₦1.5m each per our equity agreement, ₦2m fine to the regulators and paid my rent, which had been due for a month. At the end of everything, I had ₦3m left. Things were beginning to look up again.
Did you ever get another job?
I did in the same month. My former boss came through again and referred me to a company that needed somebody to manage their payment gateway. The salary was ₦350k.
It was less than what I earned at my last 9-5, but it was either that or rely on the ₦3m I had left. I spent only three months there and left in January 2020. The people there weren’t open to change and preferred to stick with their old ways of doing things.
The same week I left, I got a call from an oil and gas company. They were looking to build a product for efficient fuelling for their fleet offshore and someone had referred me to them. I got a six-month contract as senior product manager for the product. ₦750k per month. When I left, I had built my savings to about ₦5m.
Then I got another job.
Tell me about it.
I wasn’t even keen on another 9-5, but it was a digital bank and the offer was good. ₦1.3m. It’s funny when I think about it now, but it took me about eight years to hit ₦1m every month.
Inside life.
The product I was building went live in December, but I stayed two extra months before I left in February 2021. The plan was to take some time off, build and ship my own product. But I couldn’t refuse the next offer I got.
Ghen Ghen.
One of the VPs of a digital bank in South America DMed on Twitter and asked if I was interested in a senior product manager role at the bank. I got an offer from them in April 2021.
How much?
$11k gross. $9800 net. That’s about ₦4.9m per month.
Omo. How do you move money in and out now?
Every month, I take $2k out for my monthly running costs, $2900 for short term investments, and I leave the rest in my international bank account. My wife and I should leave the country before the end of the year because of my new job, so I’m saving for when the time comes.
Let’s start with a breakdown of your running costs.
This is not an exhaustive list, but I imagine it looks something like this.
What about your short term investments?
Every month, $900 is spread across different crypto investments. $400 goes into my PiggyVest for any emergency expenses. I put $1k in mutual funds, and this is to raise the tuition for my two kids when it’s time every three months. I also put $600 across a couple of agritech investments.
What has all of this done to your perspective about money?
First, your risk appetite is directly proportional to how much you’re earning. I’ve realised that the more I earn, the more my interest in investments grows. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have considered investing in crypto.
Also, whoever says money doesn’t give happiness isn’t being fair. I would know because I was at my lowest point in 2019, and I know what that did to me. I developed high blood pressure during those months that I now have to manage for the rest of my life.
I’m sorry about that.
Thank you. I’m fine. But perhaps the most important shift is realising that people who depend on you will manage without you if you don’t have money. For the entire time I was down to zero, calls from members of my extended family were non-existent. The good thing about that is it’s now easier to say no to them when they come knocking. So, maybe don’t kill yourself so others could live.
How much do you think you should be earning now?
I don’t think I should be earning a salary at this stage. I feel like I should have launched a couple of products in the market and earn money based on their market valuations. That’s one of the things I’m looking to do in the next five years.
Let’s come back to the present for a bit. Is there anything you want but can’t afford?
I’m big on family houses. I’ve been thinking about a building that would accommodate my family, my parents, and my siblings and their families. I know the location I want for this project, but I’d have to buy old properties from the current owners and tear them down, and that alone will cost about ₦90m. It’s a huge investment I can’t take on yet.
That’s an ambitious project. Is there anything you’ve bought recently that’s improved the quality of your life?
An air fryer. I bought it for health reasons, and it’s been absolutely worth it. It cost only ₦120k.
Ah, nice. Is there a question you think I should have asked but didn’t?
My financial happiness.
I was coming to that, but let’s hear it.
It’s a six. 2019 was tough, but it could have been worse. I’m also glad that I’m bouncing back. I’m not 100% fulfilled yet because I haven’t built and shipped a product for myself — all the ones I’ve worked on have been for companies I’ve worked with. When this finally happens, I’m moving up to an eight or nine.
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Nigeria is tough and the people who refuse to pay up their debt don’t make living here any easier. If you’ve been aired or blocked by someone you lent money to, here’s a guide on how you can legally get your money back.
The first thing you need to know is that if anyone in Nigeria owes you a debt, you have to act fast. If you try to get the money through a law court after six years, the court won’t answer you — and that’s according toSection 21(1) (a) of the Statute of Limitation Law.
Also, when trying to get back your debt, avoid sending any threatening or intimidating messages to your debtor. While we know that being owed can get you very angry, you also don’t want those threats of violence to backfire into a criminal case against you. So please, no violence.
And most importantly, do not involve the police in a debt recovery case in Nigeria as the police are meant to fight criminal issues, not issues between normal people. Involving a lawyer from the start is a better option.
Now, TimeToGet Your Money Back
Do you have an agreement in writing with the person you lent money to about the steps you can take to recover your debt if they don’t pay up, like selling a property? If yes, then good for you. You can simply follow the steps in that agreement to recover your debt.
If you don’t, that is still alright. There’s no need to escalate things. You can try sending them a message reminding them of their debt. Sometimes that’s all you need to do.
But if all else fails, here’s how you can “gently” get your money back:
Send The Person A Letter of Reminder:
You can send your debtor a “letter of reminder”. This letter should be written by your lawyer, and it should remind the person owing you that you will take the case to court if they fail to pay up your money.
Try Mediation and Arbitration:
To get back your money, you can involve third parties — if the other party is willing to discuss it with you, of course. In mediation, a third party can help you and your debtor reach an amicable settlement.
In arbitration, you and the other person must follow the final agreement reached by the arbitrator, and the decision can be enforced in court because it is legal. But there must have been an agreement that you and your debtor will use arbitration to settle matters in the original loan agreement.
Write The Person A “Letter of Demand”:
If you are getting uneasy and your debtor is still unwilling to pay up, then you can employ the services of a lawyer to draw up a “letter of demand”, warning the person of the things that will happen if they do not pay back your debt within a period.
The letter of demand usually confirms the exact money you are owed, a clear time when the debt should be paid back and the legal consequences of failure to pay back the debt.
A letter of demand usually serves as a good notice to the debtor before you take matters to court.
Try Taking Legal Action –
Finally, in the case where the debtor has failed to pay up even if you have sent them letters and tried to be reasonable with them, then you should take the matter to court.
The court will enforce a decision for your debtor to pay you back your money, after hearing the facts of the case.
The appropriate court to take a case of debt recovery depends on the amount you are owed. But you can recover your debt in a Magistrate Court, State High Court or Federal High Court.
By involving a lawyer early on, following the relevant procedures and eventually taking the matter to court, you can recover all the debt that is owed to you without breaking a sweat, literally.
You know how Nigerian universities are, any small thing, “Oppression is Allowed!” To make matters worse, during the everlasting lockdown, many students were hustling to make money and it’s as if everybody has cashed out.
So, if you don’t want oppression to kill you, here are some ways to disguise:
1. Get a piercing.
If you don’t know that piercings are a sign of big boy and big girl in this time and age, you’re seriously dulling. By the time they look at you and see one mad nose stud or extra earring, there’s no way they’ll look down on you again.
2. Combine every outfit with AirPods.
You know how all these Instagram and Twitter influencers behave shey, whether music is on or not, my dear put on those AirPods. Also, make sure they are white please, you don’t want to mismatch colors. We did not tell you to buy pods of 100k sha, you’re on your own. Even if you see one that is not working, carry it and wear. After all, na disguise we dey talk.
3. Take mirror pictures consistently.
For this step, you might think that having an iPhone is a must. It is not o. All you need is a fine phone case and if you now want to pepper them to the core, let the case have small shine shine. If someone tells you to ‘spam’ them, don’t forget to send at least one or two peng mirror pictures.
4. Greet everybody you come across.
Now that your drip is on point you know we can’t let it waste abi? They must notice you by fire by force. Whether you are on okada or inside shuttle…or trekking, make sure you wave at everybody that makes eye contact with you. If not, how do you want everybody to know that you’ve arrived? Rub it in their faces respectfully.
5. Don’t shine teeth anyhow.
So because we said greet people frequently, you want to be showing us your teeth every time? O wrong nau! Be kind at heart, but let your face always have a touch of wickedness. If you smile with every single person you come across, they won’t rate you like that again, so bring out your inner Patience Ozokwor and let her guide your facial expressions at all times.
6. Frequently update your Instagram.
Don’t only update your Instagram, make sure it is also aesthetically pleasing. That way, your oppressors will know you are a cool kid. Go to fine places to take pictures and once they see your peng pictures on the gram, they’ll definitely know you have arrived.
7. Buy many bucket hats.
Bucket hats are a gen-z must have fashion item. Your mates might be gen-z but are they cool like you? The answer is no. With bucket hats, you are not only protecting yourself from the sun, you are also protecting yourself from your haters. Can we get an Amen?
If you follow these steps carefully, you will unlock a level of respect that isn’t easily accessible and nobody will oppress you again. Their daddy’s daddy!
There is, I have-just-100k-in-my-account broke, and then there’s the full-blown Sapadenmic situation. For the latter, you’re bound to find these 8 types of people.
1. The motivational speakers
Set awon “tough times never last but tough people do.” It doesn’t hurt to be optimistic in a Sapadenmic sha.
2. The sad ones
These ones can just burst into tears while washing the plate they used to drink Garri. If you see them, just press urgent 2k into their hands.
3. The angry ones
Their body peppers them once there’s no money. In fact, everybody should getat. *bangs door*
4. The budgeter
These ones can write lists and scale of preference for Africa before getting the money, but end up spending impulsively. Within three hours, fiam! they’ve blown 200k. Coconut head.
5. The extra nice ones
Motto: you never know who’s your destiny helper. Let that money enter their hand first, you will see shege.
6. The singers
It’s only when these people are broke that they remember their worship playlist. Google, play “Then Sings My Soul“, maybe money will fall from Heaven.
7. The Ultimate Searchers
They search every nook and cranny of the house, clothe pockets, bags and even wastebin for money they did not keep a.k.a miracle money. Guilder Ultimate Search no do pass this one.
8. The nonchalant ones
To them, problem no dey finish, so why not use the last 1k to eat away your sorrow?
We all have bad spending experiences. Moments when we decided that problem no dey finish and that we did not come to this life to suffer. These moments, which can sometimes materialise as buying those shoes you absolutely don’t need or ordering take-out when there is rice at home, can happen at any time. And in other to give us more context on this matter, we asked 4 Nigerians to share their bad spending experiences and what they learned from them.
Sam, 24
There’s surely been a lot of incidents where I blew through relatively huge sums of money and cultivated bad spending experiences but one that has stuck with me the longest happened in 2016. There were a lot of Ponzi schemes out at the time, I was never really a fan of them but a friend convinced me to try them out. Going by his words, I decided to test one of the schemes out with a relatively small amount of money, and I did get my returns in 2 weeks. I immediately became a believer in and soon, I started investing my entire life savings in a couple of other Ponzi schemes. Altogether, I invested about ₦700,000 and started splurging the balance because I was expecting over a million in returns.
But almost as if on cue, all of them started to “enter water” with my money. I was gutter-broke! I drank garri so much that sometimes I wasn’t even able to afford the garri. But in all, we give God the glory.
Queen, 24
One of my major bad spending experiences happened in my final year of university. In my first year, I had money coming from home, my uncles, and from a man who was trying to be my sugar daddy. I was living really well. I wasn’t eating students’ food and was always staying in hotels. After a while though, the man who wanted to be my sugar daddy left because I wasn’t interested in him and life became relatively hard. Then in my final year, the year of Ponzi schemes, I made a lot from “Ultimate cycler”. Those Invest ₦12,500 and get ₦50,000 in returns scheme. I was among the first people, so I made close to a million in two days. I however didn’t save any of the money I received and went back home broke. Imagine having a million and only going back home with just ₦20,000. Now, I save a lot and don’t take chances.
Anne, 23
In 2017 which was my second year of university, I joined a youth/student church and I was really into it. I was in the choir and in leadership training and on almost every other committee. They always asked us to pay tithes, honor your prophet offerings, prophetic seeds, buy choir uniforms, contribute to the church building fund, and contribute to the outreach programs. Two offerings were collected at every service and around this time my father usually sent me a minimum of $500 (₦230,000) every month and he asked me to make sure I saved, but I was instead, using most of the money to cover church expenses.
I wasn’t buying myself nice things or going out either. There was just always something to pay for at church. So when the time to pay school fees came around, my dad asked for my savings from the money he’d been sending me and when I could not account for anything, I didn’t know how to tell him what I had done. When I eventually told him how I spent the money, he was so angry with me that he even threatened to send me back to Nigeria. Eventually, he forgave me and sent the tuition money but he cut my allowance by half for a couple of months. I found it very difficult to survive back then because there were still church expenses I needed to pay and the half allowance was never enough to make up for them. I eventually left the church because it was becoming too much. How could they be comfortable collecting so much money from students who weren’t even working? Ever since then I’ve learned to live by my means and put myself first when it comes to spending my money, anything outside of my budget is a no for me.
Ginger, 25
So I studied at one of those private universities. And during the Easter break, I wanted to visit Lagos with my girlfriends, as was the culture then. But since I wanted to avoid see-finish. I saved for months as the budget was ₦150,000, for each of us. Trust me, that was a lot of money back then. We spent a week in Lagos, went clubbing, strip clubs, house parties, beach, ate out, met celebrities, went wild for a week. I don’t regret anything, it is actually one of my most memorable memories My advice is if you’re in school and you are young, go wild at least once.
You’ve just finished creating a burner account on Twitter to participate in giveaways because times are tough, but you post a picture on your main account and someone starts shouting “Spending!” or “Iya Dollar”.
Sometimes, they’ll even go as far as saying something like “Do giveaway” and it’s at that point you want to remove your shoes and stone them.
If you can relate, then you should be able to relate to these memes.
1. At this point, fighting is a practical solution
“Say it again. I dare you. Bastard.”
2. Is it funny?
No, for real. In this Buhari economy, you are calling my name and putting “dollar” beside it. Don’t you know that dollar is N500. Are you mad?
3. Go straight to the point
Because some people just like to be unfortunate.
4. Answer me!
Why would you decide to put me through such public ridicule?
5. To be forewarned is to be forearmed
Some people exist just to remind you that you don’t have money. May God judge them.
6. Abi do I really have money?
“Maybe I actually have this money and I’m the only one that isn’t seeing it. My creator, help me. This money people think I have, bring it out.”
7. Use the opportunity to break down
Such sensitive issues are not for the fainthearted. We’re in December, the year is almost ending and emotions are high.
At some point in every Nigerian’s life, money-related issues have been a primary source of premium stress. Since this usually unfolds in different ways, we decided to do a post about these experiences:
1. When it’s Monday morning and you have only #1000 notes on you
It hits harder when you’re too broke to order a ride and the bus conductors explicitly said they have no change.
2. When your bank debits you for some strange charge and you can’t withdraw the last 1k in your account
You will curse your bank, but eventually you will use what’s left to buy airtime.
3. When you finish eating at a restaurant and you find out that their POS machine is not working
What’s all this?
4. When you transfer money to someone but they haven’t gotten it after 3 hours
Let’s be guided, abeg.
5. When you find torn notes inside the change a conductor gave you
I hate my life!
6. When you can’t reach your onigbese on the day they promise to return your money
Wait, what’s happening? Did they get in an accident?
7. When your parents decide that you’re now an adult and cut you off totally
I didn’t ask to be born oh!
8. When Naira falls against Dollars and you have to pay more on your monthly subscriptions
I was born in the wrong country. But will I die if I stop paying for Spotify and Netflix?
Oh, wait a minute. Every week, someone at Zikoko talks to anonymous people, asks them questions about their relationship with the Naira and writes about them. It’s called Naira Life and you will find all the stories here.
Let’s throw it back to economics class in secondary school. Right before the voluminous notes you had to write got you wondering if education was really necessary. You’d remember your teacher telling you, “Human wants are unlimited and the resources to actualise these wants are limited, so scale of preference comes into play.”
At that point, you probably thought it was an easy thing to do. Get money, save some, and spend the rest. How hard could it be? Well, how’s that working out for you now? If you are like a lot of young Nigerians, struggling with finding a balance between saving and spending money, this is for you:
When Salary week approaches and you make your budget
http://gph.is/2fXdoEu
You’ve been told that anybody serious about saving money needs to make a plan of how their income will be used. You are serious, or at least, you think so, prompting you to download all the budgeting apps you can find and also using the good ol’ pen and paper to plan how you are spending your next salary.
How you look at the credit alert on your phone when it enters:
http://gph.is/29eLH7g
Salary has finally entered, and for a moment, you feel on top of the world. Then you start coming back to reality with one thought in mind; the money is yours, but really, it’s not yours.
When you remember all the debts you owe:
http://gph.is/2kcMo6h
Somehow, you forgot all the people you owe money when you were making your budget and the only time you remember is after you’ve come back from the initial excitement of getting your salary or when they start sending you subtle but not-so-cryptic messages.
When your charger spoils and you wonder if deviating a little from your budget will affect your saving goals
http://gph.is/1QTsrq3
Because unexpected expenses make constant appearances in the adulting financial world, something you’d not planned to spend money on but you need will become a situation. First, you do the ritual of debating if you should stick to your budget, but deep down, you know it is futile.
When you see calls from your younger siblings, knowing what those calls are about
https://gph.is/2NSRAeJ
Elder brother/sister duties don’t come with breaks. Your siblings can call you any time, but they prefer the end of the month calls, which is a problem for you and your plans.
After you’ve spent a little more than your budget
http://gph.is/1cJyCx4
Life has happened to you again and the money you thought you had has become something of recent memory. Now, the remainder is only enough to get you through the month. You may have failed this month, but we go again next month.
If you are a part of the very small percentage of Nigerian adults who have their lives put together enough to make budgets, we have a thing or two to tell you. While you might think that you’ve covered all your bases. You’ve made a budget for food, transport even Friday night faji, there are a couple of key things you are leaving out of your budget that could ruin your finances.
The second cloth you have to buy after your tailor takes the aso-ebi you bought for a wedding and travelled with it.
Please, when are we going to come together as a people and boycott Nigerian tailors?
The extra tyre you need to buy after that deep pothole on your street finally tears your tyre.
And the second one you’ll buy after the same pothole tears the new one.
If you thought you’ll need only 10k fuel for the month double it, because the transformer on your street will blow and you won’t have light for three months.
And you’ll still contribute for NEPA people to come and fix the transformer.
Drugs for malaria you only got because your street has been flooded for the past two weeks.
By the time you get your hospital bill, you’ll wish you just stayed home and prayed the malaria away.
The third and fourth internet subscriptions you have to pay for because the first two start moving mad.
Then you go back to the first two when the third and fourth one starts misbehaving too.
The funny sound your generator starts making even though you only serviced it last week.
You’ll think it just needs to be serviced again until your gen guy tells you, you need to replace the carburetor.
When someone steals wires from the NEPA pole on your street and you have to contribute to pay for it.
You also have to settle the NEPA guys who will come and fix it.
The new phone you have to buy because they obtained your old one in traffic.
Shebi if the traffic was moving the thief won’t have seen road to collect your phone.
When your rent is due on January 1st and your landlord tells you on the 31st that he’s increasing the rent.
After you’ve used all your extra money for December rocks.
Getting that message from your younger brother, sister asking for money.
Me sef I need epp.
The borehole in your compound just suddenly stops working because the last plumber to fix it used fake parts.
And you just fixed it last month,
All the people you have to settle just so you don’t die on the line collecting things like your driver’s license or passport.
And they’ll still ask anything for the boys after you’ve settled them.
Settling police so they can release your friend they carried for no reason.
They said because he was using an iPhone he must be a yahoo boy.
The side mirror of your car you have to replace because one danfo guy trying to overtake you hit it.
After hitting it he started rolling on the floor using God to beg you.
Having to replace the compressor of your freezer because NEPA blew it.
And the surge protector you bought was fake.
NEPA bringing a 90k bill for you even though they only gave you light twice that month.
If you don’t have a prepaid meter go and get one now.
As much as Nigerians love money, they can be very clueless about it. Things like how to invest and grow your savings or manage your money efficiently can be confusing for the average Nigerian. Like how many of us even know what mutual funds means? So if you are confused about money as we are then you need to be following these social media accounts ASAP.
Tunji Andrews
@TunjiAndrews is the Lead Economist at Time, Trade and Commodities (TTAC) and a media personality. Asides his Twitter page, his show ‘The Money Business and Economy Show’ on Nigeria Info FM offers a treasure trove of financial tips.
Nairametrics
@Nairametrics is a financial literacy and business new site. Beyond the site, their Twitter page is packed full with financial advice and tips that are updated pretty regularly.
Ugo Obi-Chukwu
@Ugodre is the team lead at Nairametrics. He is also a chartered accountant with over 16 years of experience in financial management and corporate finance. So you already know he knows his shit.
Arese Ugwu
@smartmoneyarese is the author of the best selling book ‘The Smart Money Woman’. She is also the founder of Smart Money Africa, a personal finance blog that will offer you better financial advice than just there’s rice at home.
Nimi Akinkugbe
@MMWithNimi has a Bachelor’s degree from the London School of Economics and was once General Manager and Head, Private Banking and Director of Stanbic Bank. She also runs a personal finance site called ‘Money Matters with Nimi’
Moe Odele
@Mochievous is an experienced finance attorney and startup advisor. She runs a social enterprise called ‘Scale my hustle’ which helps new entrepreneurs launch and grow successful businesses.
Oluwatosin Olaseinde
@tosinolaseinde is the founder of ‘The Money Africa’. She’s a chartered account with over 8 years of experience in finance.
The Money Africa
@themoneyafrica offers insight into everything money. From financial literacy, to how to grow your money in ways that don’t involve MMM type of schemes they’ve got you covered.
Tomie Balogun
@tomiebalogun refers to herself as a millennial investment expert. And if you scroll through her Instagram page you’ll find that she lives up to her promise.
If you know any other great accounts, please share!
If you are anything like us and you lack self-control and home training then your June salary has probably finished and you are currently going through these struggles with us.
They just paid salary last week but your account balance is confusing you.
Wait but did someone rob me?
This is you trying to calculate how you are going to feed for the month of July after looking at your account balance.
This is the perfect month to start 30 days dry fast.
You start thinking back to how you were flexing like there was no tomorrow during salary week.
Yours is now a case of had I known.
As you are trying to calculate how you’ll find money to pay your NEPA bill one family member calls you to remind you to send something for the month.
It’s a little too late for that.
You start to notice that any small thing suddenly makes you unnecessarily angry.
Your colleague will tell you good morning and you’ll ask them what’s good about the morning.
You start counting down again to salary week and wonder why the days are going by so slow.
Time moves slower when you are broke – Albert Einstein
Your taste in things will suddenly drop. You’ll start buying puff puff instead of pancakes.
You’ll start to realize that you actually like cooking and you don’t even like eating out like that. Who knew.
You’ll suddenly remember all the people that are owing you money and start hitting them up.
It’s time to collect your money back from that your colleague that needed 200 naira change for bus. Abi did he think it was dash?
You’ll start appreciating the little things like the fact there’s water dispenser in your office or your parents live an hour away so you can go and beg for food.
Isn’t the Lord good?
You also start to seriously rethink your priorities in life.
Do you really need to pay for internet this month? Shebi office WiFi is there?
Long story short, July is about to be a very difficult month but we are here to tell you that last last you won’t sha die before they pay your July salary.
