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Nigerian fathers | Zikoko!
  • 7 Nigerian Men Talk About the Traits They Share With Their Fathers

    It’s not strange for a child to admire and want to be like his father. Apples don’t fall too far from the tree, but how many of these traits are learnt or unconsciously adopted? These Nigerian men share their stories.

    “I don’t really socialise, and I suck at communicating” — Mayowa, 32, Lagos

    I personally didn’t see the parallel traits, beyond the complexion of my skin, until puberty set in. I’m a mirror image of my father now. Our physical resemblance serves as an identifier within influential circles where my father is well-known. But the flip-side is it’s challenging to establish my identity when others perceive you solely as Mr. X’s son. 

    But it’s not just our physical appearances. We’re both pragmatic and introverted, which has its drawbacks. Asking for help, networking and socialising don’t come naturally to individuals like me. I make a conscious effort to introduce spontaneity into my life. I recently put a permanent reminder on my calendar, labelled “Call Dad” — a gentle nudge to prioritise regular communication.

    “We both go on a rampage when we’re angry” — Bright, 21, Lagos

    When I was about nine years old, I noticed my dad had anger issues. He has a short temper and gets furious very quickly. Growing up, I’ve noticed I do things to the extreme when I’m angry too. Like one time in 2021, I was in a heated argument with my sister because of something she did, and it got to the point where I smashed her phone on the floor. But I’m working on controlling my emotions now. I try not to react immediately to anything; I’m learning to be more patient with people. And when I have the opportunity, therapy is something that’s prominent in my mind because I’ve seen my dad’s attitude to his anger issues — he’s not phased by it all but we’ve kind of grown to live with it.

    “We overlook things a lot” — Femi, 29, Lagos

    My behaviour and mannerisms are closely linked to how my father handles things. He hardly takes offense. During NYSC in 2018, I met different types of people who’d annoy me a lot, but I had an impressive level of restraint. I kept thinking this is what my dad would do. Ironically, he gets inflamed by what you’d consider petty; like slippers scattered around, little dirt unpacked. No one else in my family is like that. Just him and I.

    “We can’t ask for help” — Anonymous, 26, Osogbo

    I can’t seem to ask for help from people, no matter how dire the situation. I found this out pretty early and chucked it up to my introversion until I was 15. That’s when I noticed my father is like that too. At a time we went through some rough patch at home, I saw him grind through it alone and quietly. I don’t think it’s a pride thing; I’d attribute it to over-independence. 

    I was surprised when I noticed our similarities because I always thought we were totally different. I think weighing the costs of this “over-independence” every time I need to ask for help goes a long way towards navigating it. When I think about the people who could be affected, I tend to ease up and speak up.

    “We both have retentive memories” — Stephen, 59, Oyo

    My father (of blessed memory) liked to sing or recite the Oriki of everyone who passed through the front of our house. My father knew the Oriki of every Yoruba names and towns; l’m also good at that. I noticed these traits in me when l was young. I even released an album in 2023. Just like me now, he also dressed well and abhorred dirt.

    “I might die helpless if I don’t start opening my mouth” — Babatunde, 26, Akure

    I never thought much about it until I was 22 years old in 2019. The country’s economy was struggling, but things were harder at home. I felt like why were my siblings and I even born if our parents wouldn’t take care of us like they should. I always thought with the number of important people my father had as contacts on his phone, there was no way we’d go through hard times. 

    Fast forward to 2022, I quit my first job and started looking for fresh opportunities, but nothing came. Everything was choking me. Then, a random check-in on a friend turned into an extensive conversation, and I had to come clean that I was jobless. We came up with a solution that helped for a while, but then, I thought to myself, “This is the same thing I correct daddy about. I might die helpless if I don’t start opening my mouth.”

    “I don’t want to make mistakes around people” — Micah, 35, Anambra 

    I’m always trying to be on people’s good sides, especially within the family. I don’t want to make mistakes around anyone or offend them. Whether I’m the wronged person in a situation or not, it’s like I just want you to love me. I’m still trying to figure out what type of hell I’ve found myself in, but this is a major trait I share with my dad, and I think about it every hour of the day.

  • The One Thing My Nigerian Dad Taught Me

    Let’s be honest — many people don’t even know it’s Father’s Day until it’s that day or a day before. More often than not, global attention focuses on all the Mother’s Days in the year, with little love for the men in our lives. To fix this, we spoke to different Nigerians about their relationship with their dads and the most important thing they’ve learnt from them. 

    If you haven’t bought your Father’s Day gift yet, please fix it ASAP!

    “My dad taught me how to accept friendship break-ups.”

     — Joyce 

    My dad and I have almost nothing in common. But despite the glaring differences between us, I’ve learnt a lot from him over the years. He used to tell me, “Ten friends can never be together for ten years”, and honestly, I didn’t get it at first. In my head, I believed that my friends would be in my life forever. However, the older I got, the more I understood what he was trying to say. While it’s true that ten friends might not end up being friends forever, it’s not the end of the world. So these days, I take every friendship loss in good stride — we had our good times and bounced. It’s life. 

    Fun fact, my dad also gave me my first sip of alcohol. He doesn’t know I’m a huge drinker now, but he unleashed a demon that day. 

    “My dad taught me it’s wicked to owe someone money and not pay it back.” 

    — Bertram 

    Even though my dad had about 16 children, he made sure he had a close relationship with all of us. One major lesson he passed down to us was learning how to live within our means. My dad hated owing people. He didn’t want to lay awake at night, scared that someone would start knocking on his door demanding their money. 

    He also taught me the importance of leaving a good legacy behind. Almost 20 years have passed since he died, but people still offer to help me whenever I introduce myself as his son.

    “My dad taught me not to limit myself because I’m a woman.” 

    — Chiazagom 

    My dad was special to me because he was my friend. Not everyone can say that their dad is their friend, but mine was. My dad taught me to dream big and not let society hold me back because I’m a woman. He was my life and my confidant, and losing him was the most painful thing ever. It hurts to speak of him in the past tense, but I know he’d want me to celebrate him. He deserves an award for overall best in fatherhood.

    RECOMMENDED: The Very Nigerian Ways Nigerian Fathers Say “I Love You”

    “My dad taught me the importance of sacrifice.” 

    — Rita 

    My dad grumbles all the time, but one thing about him, he will come through. He has a scar on his index finger from when he used it as a wedge between my teeth when I was convulsing as a child. I had been playing outside with my other siblings when it started. Typically, wooden spoons or other hard objects work to prevent the teeth from closing and cause a locked jaw, but without thinking, he used his fingers until we got to the hospital. 

    Many more things my dad has done for me bring tears to my eyes. But that moment was the definition of putting your loved one first for me. 

    “My dad taught me not to be fazed by money or the soft life.” 

    — Linda 

    I’m close to my dad, and he’s my favourite person after God. My dad likes to act like a tough guy, but he’s a big baby. I like to call him my sugar daddy because he spoils my siblings and me. He once took the family out to Radisson Blu for lunch, and I remember him telling us that he did all these things because he didn’t want one boy to come with a flashy lifestyle and take advantage of us. He said, “I’ll spoil my girls before any other man comes along.”

    Because of him, I’m content and can hold my head high because he has already treated me to the good life. 

    “My dad has shown me what it means to be a hero” 

    — Bolu

    My relationship with my dad has its ups and downs, but overall, I’ll say he’s a good man. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realised that he’s imperfect and human. But during this period, I’ve also seen him as a hero in my life. I especially like how he carried #EndSARS on his head in 2020. He was even present for the memorial march. Even though I feel like I’m not meeting his expectations because I’m more laid back about life than he is, I still love and respect him. He’s also not the type of parent to hold back an apology when he’s wrong, which is rare. 

    “My dad taught me the importance of valuing the people around me”

    — Ify

    My relationship with my dad has taken many forms. As a kid, before I recognised him as “my dad”, he was my best friend. As a teenager, he took the dad thing seriously, and now as an adult, I see him as a human with flaws who tries his hardest to do right by those he loves. 

    He’s taught me a lot but the best thing I’ll say I learnt from him is how to value people. It’s something he unconsciously taught me. As a kid, I noticed that he just somehow knew everyone. Everyone was his friend and I mean EVERYONE from “important people” right down to the security, the plumber, the mechanic, the people the world pretends not to see. He always treated everyone like family and they treated him/us like family too. He makes a conscious effort to make everyone feel seen and really in this stressful life, isn’t that all we ask for? 

    “My dad always showed up”

    — Peter

    During Jamb and post jamb, my dad followed me to the exam venues. When I was given Admission, he printed my Admission letters and important documents. Not only that, he joined all my school facebook groups just so I wouldn’t miss out on anything. He also did the same for my sisters. When I was in school, he was always calling to ask after my welfare. I found him overprotective, but I realised he just cared so much about my welfare.

    ALSO READ: 5 Nigerian Fathers on How they Fell in Love With Their Babies


  • I Could’ve Worked in an Oil Company, But I Chose to Make My Own Path — Man Like Ernest Nwangwu
    What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up.  Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

    Ernest Nwangwu has made a name for himself, helping brands like Yamaha, MTN and GSK Pharmaceuticals communicate their stories digitally. But how do you convince brands that you can help them project their voice when you’re still struggling to find yours? So it comes as no surprise when I learn of Ernest’s decision, … years ago, to go against his family expectations by setting up a creative path that feels true to who he is. 

    In this episode of Man Like, he talks about growing up under the pressures of being a first child, losing his mum at a young age, putting himself through school after he decided to switch courses and why he doesn’t believe in fear. 

    What was growing up like? 

    I grew up with a sense of responsibility from a very young age. I’m the first child in my family, so a lot of what I heard growing up was stuff like, “There are people after you so you have to set a good example.” That early sense of responsibility placed pressure on me to live a certain way. But things got even more confusing for me when I turned 11 and lost my mum. Once that happened, I had to speed things up to grow from boy to man because my dad became a single parent and needed me to step up. So, yes, my teenage years were not just about me. They were also about making sure my family was okay. 

    Damn. But what was your relationship with your dad before your mum died? 

    Before my mum’s death, my relationship with my dad was pretty normal. He lived in a different state from me, my mum and siblings, so he wasn’t always around. I knew I had a dad, and that was enough. I was what you’d call a mama’s boy. My mum was closer to me than any of my friends, so losing her made me feel like a building without a fence. I felt exposed. Like I had lost my security. She was my guardian. While my dad offered financial security, we didn’t have the same relationship. 

    After she died, I became more aware of myself and how different my relationship with my dad was. I had to navigate his expectations, and since we’re both strong-willed men, our opinions clashed multiple times. One always had to go, and for the longest time, it ended up being mine. The back and forth put more strain on our relationship, but we’re in a better place now. 

    What expectations did your dad have of you? 

    As the first child, he wanted me to follow a calculated path. Now that I’m older, I know it was from a place of love. But then, he just set a path for me and expected me to follow it. His intentions were good, but his delivery wasn’t. 

    I was already figuring myself out and had a strong opinion of what I wanted to do with my life. I started writing and rose to become the contributing editor of a magazine even before university. I was on my path, but he wanted me to become a doctor or something more formal. We started butting heads because I wanted something different. 

    And how did he react? 

    There were several conversations. I remember when it was time to pick a course and I’d mentioned my plans to study something in the creative field. It didn’t go well with my dad. He wanted me to study geology. He was very serious about it, and knowing I couldn’t pay my fees, I finally agreed to go with his plan. But what he wanted wasn’t what I wanted. 

    So you went to school to study geology? 

    Yep!

    How did it go?

    I didn’t like it one bit, but I kept my writing job on the side. Being able to fuel that passion and have my work published regularly was what kept me going in school. Unfortunately for me, it was really hard to combine a full time job in a different city with school, and I ended up missing a lot of work-related projects. I had to come to an understanding with the company that I couldn’t handle everything at the same time, so I left the job to focus solely on school. 

    Even at that, studying Geology was a major challenge, and it started showing in my grades. I failed a course that meant I’d have to spend an extra year. It was at that point I knew I had to revisit the course discussion with my dad. 

    Ah!

    If I was staying an extra year and struggling, I might as well switch to a course I actually liked. I told my dad I wasn’t going back to geology, and he didn’t take it well. His reaction showed me that I’d have to get a source of income to put myself through school. 

    Wait…what? 

    Once I failed the course and shared the news with my dad, he wasn’t keen on helping me continue school, so I had to support myself. 

    How did you do it? 

    The bible says something like the talent you have will put food on your table, so I had to go back to the talent I had, which is writing. I also picked up a few other skills. I took up learning about the digital market. I offered that service and got paid enough to go through school to study psychology. This was way before digital marketing became what it is today. 

    That’s a lot. What was going through your mind at the time? 

    I was in survival mode, almost like I had a point to prove. I didn’t permit myself to fail. The whole idea was to let my dad (and myself) know that this career I insisted on pursuing was worth it and I could make a living out of it. I didn’t have support outside of my earnings and some contributions from other family members. My feeding, school fees etc., was on me. It was also exciting in a way. I felt like I was given a chance to prove myself in unlikely circumstances. 

    Do you still feel the need to prove yourself these days?

    I won’t say I’m in survival mode any longer. I’ve gotten to the point where my daily pursuit is not for the basic things. I haven’t achieved all I set out to, so there’s still that struggle. But now, my focus is on whether or not what I’m doing can pay my staff and afford me a holiday or something. I could’ve chosen geology and probably worked in an oil company, but I chose digital marketing, so I have to constantly prove to myself that I made the right choice.

    I’m curious, though. How did you know you were making the right decision? 

    I started working from a very young age and developed a work philosophy. The truth is, we’ll be working for a very long time, so it made sense for me to do something I actually love. Once I figured this out, I knew that if I loved the job I did, it’d be easy for me to make money from it, and I would be able to deliver and do said work well. When I tried to do the things my dad asked me to do, it was like wearing a fancy shoe that didn’t fit.

    You mentioned your siblings earlier. Did you feel like you disappointed them with your defiance? 

    I believe people thrive when you allow them to be their own people. What I was concerned with was having my brothers see that you have to figure out who you want to be. I believe parents and older people can guide me based on experience and age. However, no one should tell me what to do.

    In my mind, as a parent, a child simply comes through you. Parents like to lay claim to a child as if birthing them means owning them. A child has a destiny, and a parent is supposed to help them find it. All my siblings are different people. I wanted them to have the guts to know what they wanted to do and go after it. Thankfully, they’re all doing well.

    How is your relationship with your dad now, especially since you’re successful at what you do? 

    We’re in a good place now. He looks out for me and I look out for him. I think our issue at the time was we weren’t always aligned. The older I’ve gotten, the more I realise what I needed to do at the time was get to know and understand him as a person, not just as my father. I’m doing that now where I look at him as human, a man trying to figure things out too. On his end, I think he’s learnt and grown to accept that I’m the type of person who likes to do things my way. There’s love between both of us. But most importantly, there’s acceptance and respect. 

    For someone who’s no stranger to risk, does anything scare you?

    I’m a Christian and a faith-based person so I believe we have the power to breathe life into things. So if you fear something, it’ll happen. How I deal with fear is that I tell myself it’s a concern. When I’m concerned about something, I’m not in panic mode, so it’s easier for me to approach the issue, interrogate it and either solve it or psyche myself into getting over it. Fear is debilitating for me. I don’t want to live like that. Also, turning it into a concern makes it easy for me to plan and prepare myself. Like death, for example. I’m able to understand that it’s something that happens and my concern might be tied to not wanting to lose people. 

    This is the best way I can explain it. LOL. It’s what works for me. I just change the name and idea from fear to concern. 

    What gives you joy these days? 

    I think it’s work for the most part because my social life is going downhill (almost nonexistent). I draw a lot of joy from my family. We have this group chat, and for the past couple of months, messages on there have been fun. My growing relationship with God also gives me joy. 

    Also, when I am in idea-creation mode, it gives me joy. 

    Love that for you, bro!

  • QUIZ: What Type Of Nigerian Dad Are You?

    Man Like- a series for men, by men. Coming soon to Zikoko!

  • 1. Nigerian fathers cannot kuku give someone a compliment.

    2. All Nigerian fathers came first in primary and secondary school.

    3. In fact, he can teach your lecturers and professors work.

    https://twitter.com/Shay_LJ/status/823693198249730049

    4. When you mention vacation to your Nigerian father.

    5. On your birthday, they be like:

    https://twitter.com/TWEETEST_BOI/status/826036848631898113

    6. When you cook a rubbish meal for your father.

    https://twitter.com/ChisomOgugua1/status/815967865367134208

    7. You can’t even form holy-holy again.

    https://twitter.com/YemiThatIsCray/status/799703265009135616

    8. When you’re driving your father, he’s like:

    https://twitter.com/Chibueze_O/status/786698796428320768

    9. Their wahala is just too much.

    10. When you drive your dad’s car for just 5 minutes:

    11. Someone can’t even play with this daddy.

    12. But we lobe them like that sha.

  • It may seem like our wahala might be a little too much when we say some of you don’t have home training, but it’s true.

    According to this report by Sahara Reporters, someone’s father, Mr Andrew Nworah, went all the way to the newspapers to disown and denounce his son, Bethel Nworah.

    This daddy is really angry o!

    What did Mr Bethel do his daddy o?

    This is why people should stop losing your home-training o!

    We’re just here to share this amebo for you. But as per, Zikoko detectives, what do you think Bethel did to offend his father? Share your thoughts in the comments section.