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In this story, Susan* talks about her experience growing up with a dad who smokes cigarettes at least three times a day. She shares how it’s affected their relationship and her views on the idea of smoking as an adult.
Source: Upsplash
I held my first pack of cigarettes when I was four years old. My dad and I should’ve been on the road trying to beat the rush hour traffic between our home in Festac town and my school at Victoria Island. But he’d forgotten a very important file upstairs, so I was in the back seat of the car waiting.
Whenever I found myself idle in the car, I liked to poke around, hoping to find some leftover sweets from my mum’s purse or change stuffed between the car seats. That day wasn’t any different, except what I found was a pack of cigarettes. Of course, I had no idea what I was holding at the time. I’d grow up to realise it was my father’s addiction. But I remember how quickly he snatched it out of my hands when he found me taking out a stick from the pack.
Thinking about that moment makes me wonder how many things we witness as kids with no understanding of how much trauma they cause in our lives. My dad was an addict who loved the high of alcohol. My mum had been doing a good job of hiding it, so my dad was my hero. He’d pick me up from school almost every day, and we’d spend at least an hour at a restaurant close by, talking about my day. I loved those moments.
But as I got older, I slowly realised my dad wasn’t everything my four-year-old mind had summed him up to be.
When I was six, my family moved to Abuja. And then I became a lot more aware of how much time he spent outside of the house and in the backyard, smoking and drinking. My Primary three health class had taught me a little about what smoking was and why it was bad, so to me, Daddy simply become a bad man.
But I was a bit conflicted on whether smoking was really bad. Part of what my health teacher said was that cigarettes were only okay in colder regions like Europe and America. My dad had spent the last two years in Wales, so maybe he was just cold and still needed it.
While I was conflicted, I can almost choke on the memory of the cigarette smell that came through my bedroom window every evening. Maybe he thought I was asleep and wouldn’t notice how he closed my window to keep the smell from entering my bedroom, but I was always wide awake.
I’d actually stopped sleeping when the backyard smoking began. Not just from the choking smell, but from the drunken arguments that quickly ensued between him and my mum when he was done in the backyard. By this time, I just never felt safe when he was home. If he was coming into a room, I’d greet him and leave almost immediately. But he didn’t care enough to ask why.
It didn’t get better in my teens. Whenever he was home, he was either asleep or smoking; we no longer had a relationship because he barely said anything to me, and when he did, it was to yell. Now in my 20s, I watch him smoke three times a day, every day — each cigarette stick comes at the end of each meal — not including the sticks he smokes when he’s out with friends before coming home from work.
I’ve had every opportunity to smoke, but I associate cigarettes with the angry, sad and distant person my dad became. You can say alcohol played a bigger role in his anger issues, but I’ve seen him smoke more times than I’ve seen him drink. It’s like he smokes for some kind of escape. From what? I don’t know.
But I recently got a little insight into why smoking is so important to him. First, it was a brief conversation with my mum where I outrightly asked her why she decided to be with someone who finds more solace in smoking than in being with her. She explained how he’d grown up with 13 step-siblings in Warri and a father who didn’t care much for him.
His mum had left his dad when he took in a second wife. My mum went on about how he may have felt abandoned by his mum, and his step-mum maltreating him didn’t make things easier. Without parents who cared about his whereabouts, he was off smoking and drinking with the neighbourhood guys as early as 10 years old. He’s been smoking ever since. He’s 50 years old now.
“My mum was attracted to his bad-boy side”
My mum was attracted to his bad-boy side when they met at the University of Benin. She’s quite reserved, so I guess it was appealing to have someone bubbly and outgoing give her some attention. But why did the marriage last? “I didn’t think he’d keep up the lifestyle when we had kids,” she said. And after that? “I stayed for my children,” she said. It was hilarious because the reason she stayed led to many sleepless nights for me.
Fear is the only good excuse I can make up to avoid blaming her. Yes, maybe the uncertainty of leaving someone she’s loved since her university days were too difficult to picture, so she said. That’s the best scenario I can make up for her. Sympathy may have been another reason, but I don’t have the energy to sympathise because they could’ve done better.
“We all think we’re different from our parents, but we sometimes end up slowly becoming them as adults.”
I never confirmed the story with my dad, but he has talked about days he didn’t get to eat at home because his step-mum refused to give him food. I understand how the hurt he experienced as a kid trickled into who he is now. It could easily trickle to me because I’m experiencing his pain physically and emotionally. That’s why I can’t imagine smoking.
I’ve chalked up his addiction to sadness, as, at 50, he’s now at a point where he’s worked all his life and has very little to show for it. Unlike his mates who’re driving cars or buying houses, he seems to be stuck. So maybe, this time, smoking helps him hide from the reality that he never did well for himself. But then, these are my made-up excuses for him.
Maybe I’m misguided for thinking I can be better than my dad. After all, we all think we’re different from our parents, but we sometimes end up slowly becoming them as adults. While I can’t fully control how my trauma manifests itself, the choice to smoke or drink is something I can control. It may not be enough in the long run, but for now, that’s my benchmark for not ending up like my dad.
The same applies to who I eventually marry. I don’t want a man who has vices more important than me or our kids. I know I’m aware not everyone smokes or drinks for the same reasons, but I don’t want someone who isn’t honest enough to admit when he’s deflecting worries and emotions with addictive substances.
I can’t say I’ll ever sum up the courage to ask my dad why he’s willing to spend his life slowly killing his lungs, but I’m so angry that dying doesn’t seem to scare him even though he has a family. And if he does get sick, his family will bear the burden. I’ve seen him cough around the house and drink agbo in an attempt to manage it. But who’s he fooling? All I can hope for is that my dad never gets to the point of a terminal illness.
I also don’t know if I’ve forgiven him enough for letting me choke on cigarette fumes since I was six. I haven’t noticed any side effects — and honestly, I haven’t bothered to check — but those experiences have kept me from indulging in cigarettes like my dad.
In our own ways, there are things we run away from to avoid being just like our parents.
*subject’s name has been changed to protect her identity.
Yes, we know Father’s Day is over, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop giving dads their flowers. Here are some of the Nollywood fatherhood characters that totally raised the not-so-high bar for us over the years.
Pete Edochie in Lionheart
Genevieve Nnaji was in her genius bag when she made Lionheart and cast Pete Edochie as her dad in the film. While he’d built a reputation for being a no nonsense village king over the years, Lionheart showed a softer side of Pete Edochie and we loved every minute of it. The scene where he tells Genevieve how much he loves her and respects the value she brings to his company remains unmatched. Girl dads >>>>
Richard Mofe Damijo in Diamond Ring
In Diamond Ring, our favourite zaddy, Richard Mofe Damijo (RMD), plays a father whose son (Teju Babyface) steals a diamond ring from a dead Liz Benson covered in Calamine Lotion. To save his son’s life, RMD travels to the UK, transports a dead body and gets hit in the balls by some random chick. If this isn’t true fatherly love, I don’t know what it is.
Odogwu Michael Nonso in Just The Two Of Us
A series that follows a man raising his daughter by himself after her mum leaves? Just the Two of Us was way ahead of its time. He patiently taught his daughter about life and she readily dragged him like small gen everytime he did something corny. Their relationship was so much fun to watch.
Olu Jacobs in Private Sin
In Private Sin, Olu Jacobs notices his son (RMD) is in an unhappy marriage with Genevieve Nnaji and does something extreme to scatter that marriage. To get his son to leave his manipulative wife, Olu Jacobs comes up with an elaborate plan where he helps him meet and fall in love with Stephanie Okerere’s character. The whole thing is a bit somehow, but it’s the intention that counts, I guess….
Pete Edochie in every film where he tried to save his daughter from broke men
We can’t believe there was a time we thought Pete Edochie was wicked every time he tried to stop his daughter from marrying a poor man. Back in the day, our naive asses believed love could conquer all things, including generational sapa. But with dollar rates and the rising cost of shawarma, we now know better. Looking at a film like My Love with Ramsey Noah and Chiege Alisigwe, we finally respect Pete’s decision. Please, marry rich to avoid sapa.
Kunle Bamtefa in Fuji House of Commotion
All hail the father of nations! Kunle Bamtefa’s character on Fuji House of Commotion had like four wives and one million children, but somehow, he made it work. Did they fight all the time? Yes. But this man always came through for his kids whenever they needed him — even if he couldn’t remember their names. Very bare minimum, but that’s what you get when the good dad trope is lacking on Nigerian TV.
Nobert Young in Family Circle and Edge of Paradise
Nobert Young was the quintessential DILF, back in the day — still is. On both Family Circle and Edge of Paradise, Nobert Young played a kind and loving dad who maintained an open relationship with his kids. His characters were more Phil Dunphy than your average Nigerian dad. Who wouldn’t want a fun dad like Phil?
Amaechi Muonagor in For Better or Worse
In For Better or Worse, Genevieve Nnaji who played Amaechi Muonagor’s daughter showed him pepper. From her drug problem to getting deported back to Nigeria, this babe was bad vibes all through. But instead of saying, “Fuck them kids,”, Amaechi’s character stood by his daughter through and through. Can’t relate because no energy for stress please.
At this point, everyone and their family members can relate to January being the longest and most challenging month of the year. We usually receive our salaries in the thick of Detty December, making it hard for us to save and plan for the new year. While this year’s January seems to be speeding, many of us may still be stuck in the financial trenches right now. We asked some Nigerian dads about their current January situation and how they’re avoiding SAPA.
“Why are we paying over N150,000 for a child who isn’t learning anything?” — Kamdi, 43
I have three kids, so it’s easy to assume I would be used to January and its wahala by now, but alas. My little one started creche this month, and because there’s a four-year gap between the baby and her older brother, we hadn’t done this creche or baby thing in a while. Omo, everything don cost! Why are we paying over N150,000 for a child who isn’t learning anything? I tried to talk my wife out of it, but I started looking like an enemy of progress, so we just went through with it. We can afford it, but I still think it’s unnecessary. How are we surviving the new cost? Well, my wife is going back to work. Last last, two incomes are better than one. But there’s no way we’re having another baby, not even by mistake.
“Our baby came early, but we’re trying to make it work” — Nsikan, 31
Being a dad changes your life. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s actually true. I’m a first-time dad and my baby who was due to come in March arrived in the last week of 2021. I can’t even begin to explain how draining it has been physically, mentally and financially. We had a solid plan, but this baby looked at us and said, “Dear sir/ma, fuck your plans.”
So far, we’ve had to dig into our savings to pay for two surgeries and his incubation since insurance wouldn’t cover everything. This is not how we planned our first time as parents, but thankfully we’d saved as much as we could. It’s annoying that I can’t complain because children — early or on time — are a gift from God and I don’t want to be ungrateful. Hopefully, this whole thing ends before the month runs out.
“I hate that rent is in January, but I think I have a system” — Toye, 30
Paying rent stresses me out. I’ve always hated the idea and it’s probably the main reason why I didn’t move out of my parent’s house until I was married. My wife and I moved into a new apartment in 2019 and it’s expensive AF. Renewing our rent in 2020 almost made me cry because honestly, I suck at saving. I tell myself I’ll put cash away, but I just never seem to do it. Two years ago, to avoid stories that touch, I started saving aggressively, using one of those saving apps that deduct money from your account. It worked out well for 2021’s rent. This year, I’m ready to pay rent at the end of the month. I’m now so used to these things that I have a savings account for everything down to the next PlayStation because heaven knows my wife will buy me a white collared shirt again.
“My wife lost her job, but we meuve” — Nonso, 28
Everyone else keeps saying that January is moving with speed this year, but for me and my family, it’s literally crawling. My wife lost her job in November last year and it’s been crazy for us. It’s not like we’re dying or anything, but losing one source of income changes the dynamics in your home. My wife suggested that she and the kids move in with her parents since they have money. I feel weird about it, but I don’t have a choice and I know it’s temporary, pending when we get back on our feet. It’s good to know that all I have to worry about is rent and school fees, let them sit there and eat grandpa and grandma’s money abeg.
“Everything is unnecessarily expensive in December, so I sit at home” — Louis, 30
My pro-tip for surviving January as a dad, a man, Nigerian or human being is to sit your ass at home in December. I’ve noticed over the past few years that December is just expensive for no bloody reason. All the car-hailing apps are on a permanent surge, restaurants decide it’s time to print out new menus, concerts that used to be N5,000 for regular tickets become N25,000 and everyone just starts to move mad with money. I try to create fun and affordable plans for my kids, because I owe them a good time before life starts to give them gbas gbos. Outside this, no other plans for December. I sit at home through the month, so when January comes with rent, school fees, black tax and all its other burdens, I’m not out here looking like a big fool.
When it comes to babies, there’s a cliché assumption that as a parent, the moment you hold your child for the first time, your heart will melt and you’ll experience love at first sight. It doesn’t always happen — especially not for Nigerian fathers who sometimes take longer to connect with their children. We spoke to five Nigerian fathers on falling in love with their children, why it took them so long and how they eventually got there.
Dapo, 43
We talk about the joys of having a child a lot, but honestly, having a baby can be scary. Falling in love with my daughter wasn’t immediate for me; it took almost a year. She was born when I was depressed. I had lost my job four months prior, and the fear of messing everything up drowned the joy of being a father. I was constantly thinking “Can I care for a baby?” Holding her for the first time, I was happy, but the overwhelming emotion was fear, not love.
The fear held me back from fully investing my emotions. Maybe that fear was love, who knows? Over time, seeing her in her little world unfazed by everything around her, I began to realise that she’d be okay. That made it easier to connect and fully love her. On her first birthday, even though we weren’t where I wanted us to be financially, I looked at her and had this feeling that everything would be fine. She was perfect.
Nasir, 36
I used to be a workaholic. It was so bad I wasn’t even around for my son’s birth. I was on a conference call and although I might have been able to skip it for his birth, I just couldn’t leave work hanging. The first time I met him, I was just surprised by how small he looked.. He was very close to his mum and I immediately thought I wouldn’t be able to “compete”, so I focused on work instead. I didn’t know him. I think everything changed on my 30th birthday. I came back from work after a stressful day and he was the first face I saw as I walked in and he just smiled. He had never looked at me and smiled before. It was almost like he knew I had a shitty day. It was my birthday too. That smile made me feel at ease. At that moment, I knew making him smile was all I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
Joel, 33
My wife and I wanted to have a baby the minute we got married, but it didn’t happen for the next four years. We tried everything from church camps to fertility doctors. Our sex life became a timetable that was based on when my wife ovulated. By the time she got pregnant, I was exhausted. Do you know how you work hard and long for something that when it comes, it just doesn’t excite you anymore? This was how I felt when my son was born. I remember walking up to see him for the first time and just wanting to be over it. Omo, this baby scammed me. I saw his tiny head covered in hair and I just started wailing. I couldn’t believe he was mine. Me, a father? I never believed in love at first sight until I saw Tade (my son) that night. Thinking about it makes me want to cry again. LOL.
Kayito, 30
I think I put too much pressure on myself (and our baby) to be perfect. I had read all the books I could find. After all, it was the least I could do since I wasn’t the one carrying a whole ass human being in their tummy. I thought the baby would be born, I would cut the cord, and look at her and it’d be love at first sight. Yeah, that didn’t happen. Her birth was chaotic because just like me her head was big and by the time she arrived, everyone just wanted to sleep. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her, it was just that I was disappointed in myself for not loving her the way I thought I’d love her. I eventually spoke to my therapist about it and she was the one who helped me see that I was expecting too much from our father–daughter relationship. I’m obsessed with her now, even more than I thought I’d be. The best part? I’m her favorite parent. My wife is number two, haha.
Malachi, 39
I wanted a girl, but I got a boy. I’m not ashamed to say it, and I think everyone knows it as well. It was one of those things where we got pregnant, went for a scan and apparently, the little rascal was hiding his penis so they thought it was a girl. Imagine my surprise when the baby was born and it was a HE. I was upset and it still hurts me that I couldn’t hide my disappointment, and that my wife could tell. I’m a planner so it felt like all my plans had gone to shit. For the first few weeks, I had to fake it. But once we came back to Nigeria and settled in our house, I just started to look at him differently. Maybe it’s because he looks like his mum and she is the best person in the world, but the more time I spent with him, the more I fell in love with him. Now, I even let him beat me at video games — and trust me, I hate to lose.
Nigerian fathers are very interesting. While fathers generally differ, there are some similarities. If you grew up with a Nigerian dad, this quiz should be a breeze.
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, we follow a 25-year old lady who’s living a good life – great money, holidays, comfort. But she has a better idea – freedom from her dad’s misogyny.
When do you think you first understood the importance of money?
I got my first taste of freedom during university. My parents are the kind of people who say, “This is your budget, anything outside this means you’re on your own.”
That’s when I started wondering how people manage when they don’t have money. People started to tell me things I didn’t notice about myself:
“Your parents are still giving you this amount? Oh wow, you’re some rich kid.”
Before then, I never really saw myself as a rich kid. I thought the rich kids were the ones we saw in newspapers and things like that.
What specific things do you remember?
I picked my accommodation for convenience and comfort. Most of my peers on the other hand, were about cutting costs. I also wanted to be close to school, and the closer you got to school, the more expensive things were.
I wasn’t really thinking about all that, and my friends noticed. Also, there was this specific thing that set me apart from most people – it was the funniest thing – heating.
Ah, the Abroad. Tell me about it.
A lot of my friends never turned on their heaters, because bills. But whenever they came to my place, it was toasty warm. Also, rent was always paid for a year. A lot of people had to pay month by month, but my parents paid for a full year.
What other specific things do you remember? Did you worry about food, budget, etc?
To be honest, I didn’t have to worry about those things on a day to day basis. It was just the sort of thing where, by the end of the month, after buying all of the expensive groceries, you had to manage for the remaining ten days.
I never worried-worried. It was just the sort of thing where I had overspent my allowance.
What was your monthly allowance like?
My parents gave me £1000 a month, and an extra £100 to pay for internet.
When was the first time you felt ‘I worked for it and I got it!’ with money?
I did an internship before I got into school. Some context: because of the way we were raised in my family, our hustling spirit was kind of crippled. We grew up to be very co-dependent on our father. He’s a very – you know one of these patriarchal, everything-must-go-through-me men?
Ahhh yes.
Growing up, we were never allowed to do things like internships or work outside of school. As far as he was concerned, he was working for us. Even my mum wasn’t working, until recently. She had a business but it wasn’t so tangible, so she could easily be home for dinner.
I get that.
So if we said, “Okay dad, my friends are going to New York, they’re going to get internships and get paid and things like that,” he didn’t understand.
He’ll be like, “Why are you working?” That kind of thing. When I got that internship, I had to beg to work. I was afraid I wasn’t going to get into a good university, because these days, they aren’t just looking at grades. They are looking at extracurriculars and I had nothing outside what I was supposed to do in school!
Mad.
At first, he suggested that I come work for him. I said nope!
After my internship, I got paid, and I was like oooooh, this is my money. No one is going to tell me what to spend it on! It was small, but it was mine.
This got ruined quickly, because the moment I entered university, I tried to get a job. He said, “If you do, I’m not going to pay anything for you. I sent you there to go to study. That’s it!”
Funny thing is, we’re all girls. If we were boys, I bet the narrative would have been different. I have heard his conversations with male cousins my age and the conversations are completely different. At first, I thought maybe it’s because we are his children, but as I got older I realised he is actually a full-blown misogynist.
Growing up in such a setting – I’m not going to lie – completely destroyed our hustling spirits. Because anything we want –
– Daddy
That didn’t help any of us.
The funniest thing is that we’re very educated women. All of us have first degrees and it’s either we are getting second degrees or already have second degrees.
2019 is the first year I’m pursuing something for myself. I mean, it hasn’t properly started, but there’s the satisfaction of knowing that I’m doing something on my own, for myself.
Your rules, your consequences.
Brooo, I’m like yooooo, so this is what freedom is all about. Some of the people in my circle went through this phase with their parents when they were 18-19. We, at our age, are still fighting our parents for our own independence – I’m 25.
Tell me about this.
If I tell my dad that I want to pay for something myself, he sees it as completely disrespectful.
“How dare you, when I’m there.”
You’re not protecting your kids, you’re stifling their growth. All the conversations we have at home revolve around money.
So money is a tool?
It is the tool control, because he knows that we’re all so dependent. I’m not trying to paint him as a bad dad – he’s also a great dad, and he provides for us.
A Nigerian dad.
Yeah I just feel like maybe if we were boys or if we were raised in a different setting, he would be a bit different.
I wonder, is it that there are certain men who feel like they have to take care of everyone till they die?
Back to your trail, when did you finish uni?
2015. Then I came home for NYSC and started in November. I was posted to one state and fell sick as soon as I got into camp. A lot of the people in camp didn’t like me because I wasn’t used to that kind of environment. But that’s kind of standard; Nigerians are quite angry. I didn’t really take it to heart.
I redeployed closer to home – daddy intervened. My Place of Assignment was one really really big private company. One of my bosses met me and the first thing he asked was, “Who’s your father, because that’s how you got here.”
That year was my most determined. I wasn’t really a school person like that – I kind of zoned out in my final year. It was even by God’s grace I graduated. But when I got to this company, I wanted to prove that I was just more than daddy’s girl.
Work hours were 9-6, but I was in the office from about 8:30 am until 7:30 pm – they didn’t ask me to. They were even paying me ₦45,000 a month. But I worked like a full staff. I was doing finances, the admin work. I was doing all the vouchers because they had a lot of expenses. They have partners all over the world, so I was handling all our expatriates coming in, booking hotels, doing all the running around. I was doing research for the MD and sending emails for my supervisor. I was working! And the fact that I was just earning ₦45,000 didn’t faze me because I was not working for the money.
I was just trying to ask myself, “Am I capable?”
I’d applied to go for my Masters abroad after my service year, and my boss told me, “Oh we are sad you’re going, we actually wanted to retain you”
That was my victory.
My supervisor thought I did an amazing job. She used to be glued to her desk, but when I joined, she started going out. She even told me to give her a website where she could watch series.
So basically you were earning ₦45k + ₦19,800. Was that enough to sustain your lifestyle?
Since we were young, we’ve been getting this thing called the Director’s Salary – we’re on the board of our dad’s company. I think I was getting paid about ₦200k per month since I was a teenager. I didn’t have access to the account until I crossed 18 – my mum was the signatory. But when I finally had access, it was about ₦5 million in there.
So as a corper, ₦200k + ₦45k + ₦19,800. Which corpers were you rolling with?
Hahaha. I served with some of my family friends; we’ve known each other all our lives. One of them was even a proper rich kid. A lot of people who were in my CDS were actually people who had gone to school abroad.
Anyway, I travelled back for my Masters at the end, and it reverted back to the old program. “We’ll give you your rent money, just stay in school and focus. That’s it!” But we had a deal that after I finished, I could look for a job in the States.
Okay, how did that go?
Trump. I spent 6 months looking. And I couldn’t stay any longer because my visa was about to expire.
I was applying for jobs abroad because I knew that if I lived abroad, I would be able to take care of myself. I knew that if I came back, my only option was –
– Daddy’s schedule.
Anyway, I came back home, in 2018. I got a job with one government-ish establishment, but that just went bad. My supervisor hated me because she felt like my dad had a hand in me getting the job. She just didn’t give me any work to do. I talked to her, I talked to her boss, nothing. I was there for three months doing nothing. I was wasting away.
How much were they paying?
₦100k
Plus your director’s salary.
Yes. So I left and came to work for my dad’s company. Coming back, I felt like I could use my business school education to make the place a bit more structured. But I’ve always felt it’d be difficult to work for my parents because I felt like I’d just be there for decoration.
I just think that all of our relationships with our parents are strained because of this ‘money’ thing. Anyway, I asked myself, “What are the things that I actually want to do?”
I’ve always been interested in Agric.
I want to get into this myself – I literally just registered a company. Triumph number one! I started seeking out people with more experience to help, it took some back and forth, and some people even tried to dupe me.
But I always acted like I was stupid because I feel like the best way to find out about something is to act like you don’t know anything. Be the girl who just came back from Abroad and knows nothing.
Hahaha. What do you want to grow?
Rice. For a start.
Between all of these, I lent some money to my mum from my savings, so she could start a proper-proper business. Because this is the first true one, I was so happy to go all “take my money!” Also, it’s a hospitality business. It was easy to lend her money because my Director’s Salary climbed.
Yeah?
It got increased to ₦1.2 million. Joining the company as a director, they had to pay me more than the managers. Also, when my mum started her business, she put me and my sisters as directors. So we are now earning salaries from there as well. That’s another ₦400k.
That’s a lit ₦1.6 million.
1.5+ is what I tend to get actually. So I started saving more aggressively. See? Growth might be slow, but it’s going to happen.
So, it’s your first time saving out of necessity.
Yes. I never had to. So when I spoke to the Agric guys, they told me how much I needed to invest in the business.
How much?
At the scale I want to get started with, ₦20 million. Funny thing is, my dad found out about it somehow.
Woah.
Some of the people I was trying to work with involved my dad. He was now like wait,
“So you registered a company, you didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t even add me as one of your directors!”
“You didn’t put me anywhere!”
How did you respond?
“Sorry.”
I told him how much I had to save from my salary to get to the target. He had no idea I’d been saving previously of course – I’m currently at ₦12 million. Weird thing is, I’d always felt the need to save, even while I was in school.
How do you save?
I split my savings into naira and dollars. I can’t save everything in naira only to end up hearing that naira has lost value again. I’m planning to have reached my savings target by March next year. Best time to plant rice is between March and August.
That’s close.
Every month I put myself on a strict budget, but there’s a problem that I have. I’ve always been a shopaholic. And I inherited that from my parents. My father has like 100 shoes per house. And he has houses in three countries. He just loves shopping. So all of us took after him, especially me.
But this year, I was like why am I waiting? I don’t have kids, I’m not married. This is the time I can be a little bold and build something for myself.
I know people that are way younger than me – some earning less – and they are hustling now. So what is my own excuse?
It’s like I’m in a better environment where I’m actually even getting good money each month and I can actually put away a large amount to do something for myself.
I had to give myself that pep talk.
What’s your savings target every month?
Then another 150k goes to God. So at the end of the day, I have about 300k to spend.
Where does the 300k go?
The 300 goes to keeping up appearances – not with people. It’s very funny, my father is a kind of person that if he sees that there’s nothing going on with money like you’re not using his money for anything, he gets very suspicious.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re not going out, you’re not doing anything.”
“I don’t understand, what’s the meaning of this?”
I’ve never seen a man who’s just so determined to make sure that we’re all – I dunno. So even if I’m not spending money, it’s a problem. So I just buy myself like a cute dress from somewhere, once in a while, and go out with my friends to like lunches and dinner.
Right now, I wish I could literally watch you and your dad see Lion Heart.
Genevieve stunting with her daddy in Lionheart (Netflix)
Hahaha. Oops. It feels like you’ve built your entire financial goals around breaking free.
Yes. I plan my savings in two blocks, one for moving out, and one for starting my business. Before I even started saving for rent, I needed to know where I was going to move to. So my savings goal for rent is 2 million. I’ll just chill and move out by the end of 2020, or beginning of 2021. Can’t be unrealistic and start moving out immediately.
By January 2020, I should have saved up for my business.
Are you getting any help from a Financial Advisor?
Hahaha. I went behind my dad and got one of his financial advisors. This one is the person who handles the most important books, loans, banks. He has contacts in Agric too.
I went to him like, epp me sir.
Also, he’s one of my secret supporters of moving out of this shadow.
Random, but what does broke mean to you?
Hmmn. That’s an interesting question. I think it’s when I switch from luxury to necessity. In our household, we always joke that we’re broke. But we’re not actually broke. The last time we actually felt like that in our household was 2017. That was when my parents were going through a rough patch financially. Which a lot of people were also going through.
But it just meant I didn’t get extra money when I ran out. I still got my allowances.
So like till now our broke is not really… Someone told me, “Your broke is my rich.”
Hahahaha.
I was like I don’t know what you’re trying to say but okay, no problem.
How many of your friends does this your pursuit of your business confuse?
I’ll say it goes half way. I have friends that are so proud of me. And there are some who are like, but why?
I’m not trying to sound like a brat; I don’t have to work. But I want to. So I’m not going to let anyone undermine that. It’s never too late to start.
I stan. I solemnly stan
My dad and my uncles treat their daughters the same. I don’t know whether it is genetic. All of them are full-blown misogynists.
None of their daughters have the hustling spirit, but the boys are encouraged to hustle.
I’ve been telling my younger one to start saving and planning. Because one day, my dad will wake up and see all of us have disappeared. Then we’ll be calling him like, “Yo pops –
– How far now? How you see life?”
“Yeahhh I’m in my office. I’m in my own house. So what you gon say now boo?”
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?
Eight.
I’m getting enough financial support that I need to be able to have goals and chase them. No matter what I’ve said, I’ve never said I’m ungrateful for everything that my parents have given me – the money, the privilege. I’m just saying I just wish there was a bit of room for independence for all of us.
People are like, “Oh you’re so lucky, your dad buys you this and that.” So I don’t complain to people so that I don’t look like a rambling ingrate.
That remaining two is just the control that is attached to that financial happiness and just drains the life out of you sometimes. My older sister is paying for her life abroad, there are some times that he still gives her money.
“Let me buy your ticket to come back to Nigeria.”
“It’s summer let me just give you something to hold.”
The kind of relationship I don’t mind having. When you know you’re living your own life, you’re doing your own things, but once in a while, he’s still there.
Okay. So what’s something that you think I could have asked that I didn’t ask?
Hmm, that’s a good one. Maybe another scenario would have been good.
Tell me.
I’ll probably be living on my own with a small car. Working for maybe a bank, or maybe working for one of the Big Four, slumming it out, you know. I’d be a worker. A proper worker. But this is the reality I’m in, so I gotta hustle my own hustle.
I hope the business works out.
It’s on the way. It is on its way.
I need to head out for my meeting now.
Thank you for taking the time.
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