Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the wordpress-seo domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/bcm/src/dev/www/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6121 Poverty | Zikoko!
Within the space of two months, fuel prices have tripled, the naira has fallen to record lows and inflation has gone through the roof.
Now more than ever, doing business profitably in Nigeria has become even more difficult. How has this affected small business owners? I spoke to a number of them about how they’re staying afloat during this period.
Some have had to increase retail charges
“I sell decorative flowers, and my business depends on foreign exchange because many of my suppliers have to import the products. Since June [2023], prices from my suppliers have doubled, and I’ve had to do the same for retail. For example, a small flower vase that I used to sell for ₦9k just two months ago is now ₦17 – 18k. My customers are angry, and sales have reduced drastically, but I can’t afford to charge lower. If I sell everything at a loss, how would I restock?” — Glory, Flower shop owner
“I deal with electronics, which means I need constant electricity so prospective buyers can test the products. Before now, I spent around ₦7 – 10k weekly on fuel. Now, I ration my fuel usage but still spend close to ₦21k weekly. I’ve had to increase my prices by 30% to meet up with the operational costs. I may even have to increase it again because supply has also become more expensive. I have to transport my products from Lagos to Ekiti, and shop rent is still there o.” — Nedu, Electronics dealer
“The difference hasn’t been that much because my plant business only started operating in April [2023], but delivery costs have risen. When we started, we could do Uber delivery from our location at Surulere to Lekki at ₦3k, but now, drivers don’t accept anything less than ₦4,500. The cost of decorative items like plant pots and white stones have also increased, which of course, increases the selling price. We informed our customers of the price change and increased delivery fees; they’ve been good sports about it. We also try to give a subsidy of sorts on delivery by paying a percentage of the cost so it’s not too costly for our customers.” — Tobi, Plant and furniture business owner
Others have had to take a break
“Inflation is dealing with me, not the other way around. I market bags on WhatsApp for a commission fee from a wholesaler, but sales have been really bad for about two months. The prices have doubled, and people are looking for what to eat, not fashion. In a good month, I used to make around ₦40k in commissions, but I’ve not sold anything since July. I just want to take a break and re-strategise.” — Becca, Fashion entrepreneur
“I sell food, and I normally cook twice a day to meet up with demand. But I’ve had to limit my cooking to only mornings because of the high cost of food and items like plastic spoons, nylon and “takeaway” plates. Customers complain about the reduced food quantity, and some even eat on credit. I’ve moved from making around ₦6k in daily profit to about ₦2k. It’s hard.” — Iyabo, Roadside food seller
Others just closed down
“I’ve had my provision store for about three years but closed it down last month. Sales have been challenging since last year, but 2023 has been something else.
I used to get items from my wholesaler on credit with the agreement to pay back when I need to buy more, but she’s now refusing to sell on credit. And it’s not her fault; the economy isn’t smiling at all. I still have drinks in my freezer that I haven’t been able to sell because the limited power supply means they can’t get cold, and I don’t have money to fuel my generator regularly. I’ll find a way to sell them off later. For now, I’m just tired of selling at a loss.” — Gold, Provision store owner
“I started making natural hair care products in January, but I’m stopping this month because it’s too expensive to keep up. I was still struggling to build my client base when the cost of production went up. For example, a cream I sell for ₦4k used to cost ₦3,200 to produce. Now, it costs ₦4,100 to produce. How do I tell the customers I’m still trying to keep that I’m increasing prices just seven months after I started selling?” — Moji, Haircare entrepreneur
A French saying goes, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” A Nigerian might as well have originated this quote, and it’d still ring true.
A new administration will lead Nigeria on May 29, 2023. However, age-old problems remain, and as the latest World Bank report shows, things aren’t looking promising, as 13 million Nigerians are projected to fall into poverty by 2025.
We went through the report and highlighted key findings from it.
Nigeria’s macroeconomic stability is severely weakened
The “Macro Poverty Outlook for Nigeria” report disclosed what every Nigerian knows — that our economy is a shambles. The report reads, “Oil price booms have previously supported the Nigerian economy, but this hasn’t happened since 2021.
“Instead, macroeconomic stability has weakened amidst declining oil production, costly fuel subsidies, exchange rate distortions, and monetisation of the fiscal deficit. The deteriorating economic environment is leaving millions of Nigerians in poverty. Risks are tilted to the downside given the lack of macro-fiscal reforms, the naira demonetisation, and an uncertain external outlook.”
What does that mean?
To explain the jargon, the report says that Nigeria, which used to be heavily dependent on oil revenue, no longer gets enough money because its production capacity has dropped. Other issues like fuel subsidies, multiple exchange rates and high government borrowing have turned the economy upside down. The result? Nigeria’s future looks “uncertain”.
The infographic above shows macroeconomic indicators from 2014 and projected into 2024. That orange wavy line you see is oil price over the years. From 2015 there was a slump which picked up slightly in 2018 but fell in 2020, which, as you’ve guessed, was when the pandemic hit hard.
In 2021 there was a sharp rise due to the Russian-Ukraine war. Almost every oil-producing country reaped from the oil windfall as demand peaked. We say “almost” because Nigeria was the notable exception. The light blue line below the orange one is Nigeria’s revenue which tells its own story. As oil prices were soaring, revenues were dwindling. A truly astonishing feat that shows the Nigerian government’s uncanny ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
[President Buhari / Daily Nigerian]
The dark blue line is our GDP growth which the World Bank says will grow by an underwhelming average of 2.9 per cent per year between 2023 and 2025.
The report describes Nigeria as “more fragile than before the late 2021 global oil price boom.” The World Bank reports Nigeria’s debt is over 38 per cent of GDP. In 2022, 96.3 per cent of our revenue was used to service debt.
Between now and 2025, our population is expected to grow, on average, by 2.4 per cent annually. Given that GDP growth will be at 2.9 per cent for that same period, that’s not encouraging. Our economic growth rate should be outpacing our population growth rate by far to have any chance of lifting Nigerians from poverty.
On poverty, the World Bank said: “With Nigeria’s population growth continuing to outpace poverty reduction and persistently high inflation, the number of Nigerians living below the national poverty line will rise by 13 million between 2019 and 2025 in the baseline projection.”
To provide a sense of where we are, the Nigerian Bureau of Statistics (NBS) said in November 2022 that 133 million Nigerians live in multidimensional poverty. That number is expected to rise by millions.
The World Bank said fiscal and debt pressures would increase if the petrol subsidy is not phased out in June 2023. It recently gave the federal government a loan of $800 million, which it’ll use as petrol palliative by disbursing cash to 50 million Nigerians. How effective that’ll be is anyone’s guess.
Way forward
Besides phasing out fuel subsidies, the World Bank has advised the following:
Increasing oil and non-oil revenues,
Tightening monetary policies to reduce inflation and;
Unifying the multiple FX windows and adopting a single, market-responsive exchange rate.
This heavy burden falls on whoever assumes office on May 29, and it’s one hell of a job. We wish them good luck as they’ll need every ounce of it.
Below are a few noteworthy points from the report that we should care about:
Nigeria is Africa’s third-largest market — with fewer millionaires
According to the report, South Africa, Egypt, Nigeria, Kenya and Morocco make up Africa’s “Big 5” wealth markets, accounting for 56% of the continent’s high-net-worth individuals (millionaires) —this is measured in dollars and not local currency).
But despite this, Nigeria seems to be churning out fewer millionaires. Nigeria only has 9,800 millionaires, and 30% have lost their status over a decade (2012-2023).
According to economists, this drop can be attributed to the depreciation of the naira against the dollar and poor foreign exchange policies in Nigeria.
‘Top 10 Wealthiest Countries’, Africa Wealth Report [Henley & Partners]
Nigeria contributed to a 12% drop in Africa’s total millionaires
‘Growth Trends On the Continent’, Africa Wealth Report [Henley & Partners]
The report claims that the total high net worth individual numbers in Africa have fallen 12% over the past decade (2012 to 2022). The cause? Poor growth in the three largest African markets, South Africa, Egypt — and Nigeria.
Lagos has been listed as Africa’s 4th wealthiest city – with 5400 millionaires
‘Africa’s Wealthiest Cities’, Africa Wealth Report [Henley & Partners]
As the “economic hub” of West Africa, Lagos houses over half of Nigeria’s high net-worth individuals. These include 5,400 millionaires, 16 centi-millionaires, and three billionaires.
It also listed major sectors in Lagos, including raw materials, oil and gas, transport and financial services.
Lagos and the new Blue Rail transport system [The Guardian]
What does this mean for the average Nigerian?
As the rich are reducing and economies suffer, here’s how it affects you as a resident.
There will be lesser job opportunities for the poor
According to the Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC), 3.1 million registered companies have millionaires as their owners. These can easily translate to 3.1 million companies where you can find work instead of a government institution.
If 30% of these millionaires lose status due to economic hardship, companies could take austerity measures by reducing the workforce or folding up and decreasing job opportunities.
If you haven’t already guessed by now, fewer millionaires mean lesser foreign investment in Nigeria’s economy
Sapa increases
Let’s end this report with the most obvious point — the activities and investments of millionaires help economic growth and reduce poverty. If fewer millionaires exist, the well-being of Nigerians cannot survive purely on the government. And you know what that means.
Be part of a community that talks and breathes politics for the Gen Zs and Millenials. Join the tribe here.
One game the Nigerian government loves playing is the blame game. And we’ve seen that play out many times with the current Buhari administration, from blaming the state of our country on so-called lazy youths to blaming the weather for fuel scarcity. It’s 2022, and fingers are still being pointed.
Early in December 2022, the Minister of State for Budget and National Planning, Clement Agba, blamed the state governments for the level of poverty in the country. Barely 24 hours later, President Muhammadu Buhari voiced the same accusation, saying the state governors were looting local government funds.
The Minister of Finance, Zainab Ahmed, disclosed that the Buhari administration has supported states with over ₦5 trillion since 2015, but millions of Nigerians are still extremely poor.
We’re approaching the final six months of the Buhari administration with another administration on the way, but the problems plaguing us as a nation have barely changed.
If the government’s allegations are true, how and on what projects were these funds spent? Well, we have a few guesses.
Exotic rides
Nigerian politicians know how to live soft lives on our national cake. Nobody does it better than them. We’ve also seen that they can be very cheerful givers. In April, the governor of Zamfara State, Bello Matawalle, distributed 260 brand new Cadillac 2019 model cars to traditional rulers to thank them for sustaining peace. This was a week after he distributed 15 brand new Hilux cars to leaders of “repentant” bandit groups.
You’d think a governor whose state has one of the highest population of out-of-school children would focus scarce resources on addressing that rather than rewarding criminals. But no, this is Nigeria, and logic doesn’t live here.
Exploring overseas
Our politicians were probably explorers and adventurers in their previous lives because they enjoy being anywhere but home. And if we look more closely, they started the japa trend because they mostly have their families abroad, and their children hardly ever have to pass through the ASUU strike rite of passage. Even our First Lady, Aisha Buhari, decided the country was too stressful and spent six months in Dubai and can you blame her?
Medical tourism
In July 2022, the vice-president, Yemi Osinbajo, received praise for undergoing surgery in Nigeria, and that showed how low the bar is for our politicians. Millions are spent by government officials seeking foreign healthcare. And unfortunately, the ambassador of this sad trend is our president himself, who, despite his promise to end medical tourism, has spent a total of 237 days abroad for health reasons.
As we already know, elections in Nigeria are expensive. The 2023 presidential nomination form for one of the political parties cost ₦100 million. This is one of the reasons why politics today is ruled by godfatherism. This system ensures successful candidates use state resources to repay favours owed once they get into office.
Getting into office as a Nigerian politician is an opportunity to ball with your guys
While Nigerian politicians keep pointing at non-existent excuses for their failures, Nigerians are suffering from neglect. Hopefully, the next administration we elect in 2023 will spend Nigeria’s money on Nigerians..
The Minister of State for Budget and National Planning, Clement Agba, shifted some of the blame to governors of the 36 states. The minister said the governors should stop spending borrowed money on unnecessary projects and spend on projects that fulfill the basic needs of the people instead.
Agba said, “We appeal that governors should concentrate on building rural roads so that the farmers can at least get their products to the market.”
But are state governors really to blame? Or is this simply a case of the pot calling the kettle black? Let’s first understand the state of Nigeria’s poverty.
How’s Nigeria’s poverty level looking?
133 million Nigerians have been classified as “multidimensionally poor” by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS).
Now that we understand the poverty level, who’s to blame?
Agba has already called out governors, but the Federal Government is in the driving seat of the public policies that determine Nigeria’s poverty level. Here are some examples:
Border closure
In August 2019, Nigeria closed the land borders shared with neighbours like Chad, Cameroon, Benin, and Niger. This closure shut down the movement of goods between the countries and badly affected trading activities.
Buhari said he closed the borders to prevent the smuggling of goods, especially rice, into Nigeria. But a bag of rice that used to sell for ₦23,000 before the closure now sells for as high as ₦43,000. The border closure clearly just caused more suffering for Nigerians.
Why should there be hardship allowance, entertainment allowance, and even wardrobe allowance for people whose salaries already run into millions of naira? No wonder Nigerian lawmakers have been known to be one of the highest-paid in the world.
The Monetary Policy Rate (MPR)
The MPR is one of the measures the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) uses to stabilise prices in an economy. It’s the rate the CBN lends to commercial banks, and the commercial banks lend to their customers.
In order to reduce Nigeria’s inflation rate, the the CBN raised the MPR from 11.5% to 13% in May 2022 and 14% in July 2022. The result? The 18.6% inflation rate in June 2022 increased to 21% in October, the highest rate in 17 years. And what happens when you don’t have the money to buy essential goods? Poverty.
In the end, what Nigerians care about is that all levels of government coordinate their efforts and seriously start pulling Nigerians out of poverty.
What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up. Man Like is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.
Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the Man Likeseries. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.
Period poverty is when you cannot afford proper hygiene products during your period. Products like tampons, menstrual cups, sanitary pads, etc. These seven Nigerian women share times in their lives when they have experienced period poverty.
Ade, 20
There was a time I had to used paper towels. Luckily, I happened to find an actual towel later. I folded it and used. A whole goddamn towel. Each time I went to the restroom, I would fold the towel in a different way to avoid it from soaking really quickly.
Mayowa, 20
Once, I was extremely broke and my parents were completely out of reach. I had to use tissues, and even the tissues were given to me by someone. I cried so much.
Hafiza, 21
I had to go to school while on my period, so I needed to buy pads. I also needed to buy food, but it was one or the other. So, I used my money for food to buy pad because school was compulsory. It was either I starve or I stain and I chose to starve.
Yinka, 20
I was to get money from someone, but banks were having so many issues that period. I cried so much because if I buy the pads plus the painkillers with the one thousand naira I had left, I would not be able to afford transportation to school or food in school. There were assignments I had to submit so I needed to be in school. So for the first day, I went to school using tissue papers. It was so uncomfortable because I could feel the tissue dissolve. When I got home, my friend asked why I did not stay till the end of the day. I told her my predicament and she sent me money and brought pads and food to my house.
Busola, 25
It was the first day of my period and I had classes for over six hours. On days like that, I usually try to place one pad on top of the other so I do not get stained. However I had used all the money I had to type and print out some work our lecturers assigned to me. I could not afford to use two pads at once, so I had to use tissue and a pad. For over six hours, that was just how I was.
My period came two weeks earlier at my brokest point in school. Luckily, I was home all day for the first day so I kept alternating between tissues, plain underwear and just standing in the shower naked. It was such a stressful experience. When I woke up the next day there was a big stain on my bedsheets. I had to call my parents and beg for money.
Adaeze, 21
When I first started my period, for months I used my old school uniforms because I couldn’t afford pads. I’d cut them into smaller pieces, fold till it looked like tissue, and use them. Once it’s soiled, I’ll wash it and use another. When I finally could afford pads I still really couldn’t afford a lot of them, so I’d use one for a whole day. What helped was I constantly rinsed myself so they wouldn’t be a lot of blood in the pad, and I did a lot of calculating too. I never used pads on the first and last days because it always felt like a waste.
For more articles on all things women, please click here
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
What’s your oldest memory of money?
It’s stealing a ₦5 note from my mum and after she beat me, she asked my cousin to bring a knife. My cousin and I were a bit in love with each other, so he brought a blunt knife, and she cut me with it.
Uhm, what?!
“You’ll show this to everyone and tell them you stole.” I still have the scars.
How old were you?
I don’t remember o. I have a lot of trauma. This one is the least of it.
Ah.
Another one is my mum losing ₦10 and locking me, my elder sister and my elder brother up in a bedroom. I’m the third of four children.
She kept us there without food and left for the market. I typically do not eat a day old food. That day, we were so hungry we ate stale, cold eba, mixed with oil. When she came back at night, my brother had to lie that he was the one that stole the money, so she’d free us. Also, do you want to hear about that one time I got scammed?
I’m listening.
I’ve been going to the Seme Border since I was 15 – no – 13. I used to go with my mum, but as soon as she saw that I could talk to drivers and customs officers without fear, I started going alone. By the time I hit 15, it was time to write WAEC, but there was no money. My dad died when I was much younger, and my mum fell sick around the time.
So my mum gave me ₦15k to go and buy pineapples from Seme Border. I was to buy it and then ask one of the older market sellers to help me sell it, so the buyers won’t rob me blind.
This one guy came to ask me for directions and started speaking French. I wanted to help him, so I asked someone else for directions and the other person said he would take us to the place. The French speaker then begged me to follow him because he didn’t trust the second guy. I didn’t know they were working together, so I followed.
Hayyyyy.
On the way, French-speaking guy told me about a machine he had that could print money, and that because I’d helped him, he wanted to help me back. I told him no, but he persisted. That’s how I gave this guy the money o. He said he was coming back. He even gave me his number. And then he disappeared.
Au revoir.
I couldn’t go home. I went and spent the night at a friend’s place. The next morning, I poured sand and dirty water on my body and started crying as soon as I got to our gate. I told my mother that some men kidnapped me.
Woah.
The next week, I saw the scammer at the market, casually walking, with his hand on a girl’s neck. I wanted to let it go – the shame of having been scammed – but I no gree. I walked up to him; he didn’t even recognise me. I told him he was a scammer, and he immediately pushed the girl and took off.
I started shouting Ole! Ole!
Ah!
Next thing, people caught him. He started crying, saying he didn’t know me. When I said what he did, he said he’d just broken up with my sister, and I was trying to punish him. The men that caught him asked for proof, so I dialled his number.
And it rang.
Ah, they beat him o. They beat him and took us to a mini shrine. The babe held him till his brother came to bail him out with ₦15k. So they only gave me ₦10k and took the rest for the boys. I used the money to buy things.
Your mum didn’t ask where you got the money?
She was really really really sick. As in, I carried her on my back to the bus stop, then to the hospital where she got admitted. Also, maybe she assumed I got the money hawking.
I’m so sorry. Sigh. What was the diagnosis?
A bunch of stuff.
Like?
A bunch of stuff.
Fair. What about the hospital bills?
She stayed in the hospital for three months. We had to beg for money o. As in, carry a placard with her picture and do bambiala. There’s this thing that happens where someone comes to pay the hospital bills of random patients. Someone paid my mum’s. We still needed money for food, blood transfusion and yada yada. So the money we got from begging covered that.
When she was discharged, my uncle whom I’d never seen before came and said he was taking her to the village. Then they shared me to one aunty, and the other sisters to another aunty. The aunty was tormenting me, so I ran away and went back home to stay alone. Started running errands for neighbours. Selling pure water. Did a voiceover for one photographer. Somehow, my sisters found out I was at home, so they came back too.
Then my mum sent for me, and my aunty’s husband came and bundled me to the village. Apparently, the uncle who took her to the village had abandoned her. He said if she was going to die, it was better he saved money and just paid for her burial.
Woah.
Anyway, we managed to buy her meds and pay some bills, but we still needed to raise money to leave the village. So I went to a site –
A real-life ₦2k site.
I carried sand, fetched water, broke stones, then raised money for transport to return to Lagos.
Wait, you eventually wrote WAEC and got into school, right?
I wrote WAEC in 2015, bro. I had to wait for three years. My mum’s medical struggle was in the first year.
What about the remaining two years?
They just breezed by. I was selling for my mum and was miserable all the time. I wanted to go to school, I even tried to get a job as a teacher to pay for my lessons, but for the four months I worked there, they only paid for one month.
How much?
₦5k. I wanted to fight, but then the owner got sick. So I started working as a lesson teacher. I taught three children at ₦2,500 a child. I can’t remember why I stopped teaching, but I think the parents decided that I was too expensive and got someone else to teach at ₦1k per month.
You said you were selling for your mum too…?
Pineapples, watermelons, oranges. This is basically what my mum sells. So I helped – which I’m very good at. Even though my other siblings were around, my mum always wanted me to help.
When my classmates from school started uni, they used to come and say, “How are you?” but I could see their pity. There was this girl I didn’t like. She’d see me at the bus stop selling and dusty, and she’d say, “Hey, you’re here?”
I eventually got into uni, but hunger? Hunger wanted to finish me. My mum used to send me ₦2k a month in my first year. In my second to the fourth year, it oscillated between ₦3k to ₦5k. To earn, I used to help people do assignments and do all the class projects. I’d do the research, type, present and quote a sum and get paid. The highest anyone paid was ₦3k.
And after uni?
The day I finished my exams in 2019, I went home and cried, while everyone was signing on their t-shirts and later partying.
I was panicking about a lot of things. First of all, I didn’t have money for NYSC clearance. I hadn’t had a smartphone for most of the year, so I’d barely used any social media. There was no network, there seemed to be nothing open for me. I looked at the things I wanted and the doors that were open to me, and it was bleak. Also, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about my feelings, someone who could tell me, “It’ll be alright.”
I didn’t even go for my convocation ceremony. My course mates chucked it up as me being weird, as usual.
Was there a silver lining in this period?
Well, still in December, I belonged to a book club, where I met someone who needed me to manage their brand page. I was so happy I didn’t even discuss money. I did some research on how we’d pull it off, and they were impressed.
Lit!
Next, they were making a group trip in December and needed an assistant to come along. It was just to a neighbouring country. My mother said, “Don’t go. Na cocaine una won go carry. You wan go do prostitution.”
What did you do?
Look, I don’t know any rich person. My sister graduated the year I got into school, and she’s still at home, unemployed. Man, I wanted to escape. So I told her, “Anyone wey them send me, I go do.” I no want this una situation.
Wild.
It was Detty December season, a lot of events. All my expenses covered, and I got ₦25k. My mum had a lot to say about it, but I no send. It just felt good to have a straight connection to someone outside my stifling environment.
Sadly, my phone fell inside water – spoiled and gone. The job followed – no phone to manage pages. When they told me ehn, I felt like I was drowning, felt desperation crawl up my throat. I got tired of surviving on barely anything. I didn’t have the time to be good at anything.
You just couldn’t catch a break.
Yes. Anyway, I got on Twitter around that time too. I also started freelance writing. I learned B2B writing by force. In my house, it’s basically every man for himself. The money from freelancing was what I was using to live large, eating noodles every day.
It was on Twitter that I saw another opportunity, working on a production. If I ever become rich, I’m going to spend my money filmmaking. I will study it and do whatever the heck I want.
Anyway, I liked their tweets for a while and then messaged them, and got an internship.
Nice!
I got paid ₦6k. Haha. Then the pandemic hit. I just slowly went mad. I was crying everyday. Here’s the thing, people have support systems. Parents who are understanding and have money or social capital, friends, lovers, old school mates, that they’ve known all their lives. Then there’s me, trying to break out by myself.
I don’t have friends from primary or secondary school or even university. I’ve only dated one person in this life. That person accused me of being emotionless. The other ones were situationships willing to make it more, but they were as broke as I was, and God forbid.
I –
Anyway, I was applying for everything I saw online. I applied for a social media management internship, then sent so many follow ups and even article samples, to the point where they were like okay. It was supposed to be ₦30k, with a data allowance. But then I got another call in the middle of 2020.
He practically just told me after a conversation: I have a job for you, so I dumped everything and flew.
Interesting. What do you do at your current job?
It’s a research project, and I do all the day to day running around. But I like to think of it as being a junior product manager – I only just found out about it at my current job. I attended a webinar, and I’ve been reading about it. I think I’m more confident about the direction I want to go.
How much is it paying?
₦100k. My boss keeps challenging me and sending things my way, and I finally feel like I’m on an upward trajectory.
What do you see when you think about your financial future?
I wrote that I’d like to be earning ₦800k monthly in two years, but I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I also don’t know if I’m selling myself short or being too ambitious. Right now, I’m just happy to get through the year.
But how much would be great right now?
₦300k. Half of the house rent, my siblings’ fees and food. My mother hasn’t been doing anything for a while. Ever since the border closure, she’s been rootless.
Rootless. That’s heavy.
She’s extremely tired.
What’s something you want but can’t afford?
I tend not to dream of things I can’t afford, but I’d like a new phone. I love taking random pictures of things, and I haven’t been able to because of my shitty phone camera.
What’s something you wish you could be better at?
I wish I’d wake up one day, be effortlessly smart and good at writing code, prose and scripts. I want to enter writing competitions and win. If I have time, I can learn anything and be good at it. I believe I can do anything with constant practise.
I also wish I’d step into a room and people would just feel the insane urge to dash me money.
How would you rate your happiness levels, on a scale of 1-10?
Oh wow. 4. I’d like to relax and not have to worry about daily bread. I’d also like my own space.
It’s like everyone I grew up with is tired of fighting or trying to keep up. So it’s either live one day at a time, hope for marriage or just wait. And it’s easy to assume the world hates you. I feel that way all the time. No money, no connections and well, you have to get everything yourself. Phone, laptop, slippers.
It’s exhausting, but I don’t like staying down.
Upon the request of readers, we’re adding a payment link here, in case you’d like to send her some love and light. Updates will be shared in the next Nairalife newsletter.
