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Secondary school was a battle of the fittest. Seven hours a day, 13 subjects per term, and only the strongest students geniuses made it to the top three positions in class. Do you remember these types of geniuses who always made the list.
The ones who don’t need to read
You can never stand a chance with these ones. All they had to do was sit in the class or watch educational shows like Cowbellpedia, and it was sorry to you and your four hours of reading time per day.
The ones who can solve the problems in their head
These ones excel at STEM subjects all on their own. While everyone is struggling to solve equations with their pen, paper and calculators, all they need is two minutes to provide answers from their head.
The miracle workers
They spend half the term away from school for some reason, but show up on exam days and still pass with flying colours.
The ones who’ll play with you and still pass
Sorry to you if you had them as your friends. They’ll spend the entire day before an exam, playing and shining teeth with you. When the results come in, you’ll find out nothing was ever really funny.
The candle burners
They might sleep through the day and act like that test everyone is preparing for means nothing, but best believe once everyone goes to bed, their eyes become shining torchlights, and sleep becomes non-existent.
The crammers
For these ones, the end justifies the means. As long as they retain the knowledge and use it when needed, they’re fine.
The jack of all trades
These ones don’t have a favourite subject. They excel at every and anything, including the STEM (S subjects people run away from.
Cowbellpedia is back on our screens bigger and better. Catch the next set of Cowbellpedia geniuses in their element every Saturday on Africa Magic Family at 4:30 p.m., NTA at 6:00 p.m. and TVC at 7:00 p.m.
I strongly believe that Koreans are Nigerians In a different font because a lot of our struggles look the same. They have a mandatory military service year, we’ve got NYSC. Their parents are strict, and so are Nigerian parents. But their secondary schools? Might as well be owned by a Nigerian. Here’s why.
1. Teachers be beating kids almost to death
Every Nigerian child that went to a Nigerian school probably heard a story or witnessed someone almost get beaten to death. In Korea, corporal punishment is technically prohibited. But K-dramas normalise it.
2. Intense bullying
In secondary school, you’re either the bullied, the bully or the protector of the bully. And Korean and Nigerian kids could win an award for being overall bests in bullying. Almost every high school K-drama protagonist has to deal with a terrible bully. In All of Us Are Dead for example, imagine your bully becoming a zombie.
In Nigeria, if the SS3 girls didn’t fight with SS2 girls in your school or JSS3 A AND JSS3 C didn’t hate each other’s guts, did you even school here? In Korea, the students in the best and worst classes always have beef with each other, but that’s just part of secondary school, I guess.
4. Seniors have way too much power over junior students
In Nigerian high schools, seniors low key have more power than teachers. It’s insane. In Korea, you dare not disrespect your sunbae if you don’t want to die because they’ll make your entire time in school a living hell.
5. Long-ass school days
The average Nigerian high school student spends eight hours in school as a day student, not counting after-school lessons. People in boarding school, counting afternoon and night prep, spend about 13-14 hours. Korean schoolers spend 12-16 hours in a classroom every day. This is why secondary school kids are scary. They wake up every day running on vibes.
After stressing kids out all week, some teachers would still have the audacity to drag them to school on Saturday for classes. Is that not wickedness? Nigerian and Korean kids need to band together and fight this nonsense!
7. Weird student ranking systems
Thankfully, Nigerian schools don’t have the weird type of ranking system Koreans have, where you’d know who’s number one in the entire school and who’s the last. But Nigerian kids can relate to the stigma of taking the last position or the fake friendships that come with being first.
If you don’t remember the names of at least seven of these secondary school hairstyles, you’re either a man, or you were on low-cut in secondary school.
This quiz will separate the people who really went to secondary school from the people who went for vibes. Can you guess the secondary school subjects from just three words?
Give it a try:
Questions
This is a question
You got #{score}/#{total}
Aaaaah! What is this score? Didn’t you attend secondary school?
You got #{score}/#{total}
You tried small. Only small.
You got #{score}/#{total}
Congratulations! You’re a smart person, your school fees didn’t waste.
Bullying is one of those things that seem to define the secondary school experience in Nigeria. If you went to a Nigerian secondary school, chances are high you’ve been bullied, bullied someone or witnessed someone being bullied.
We spoke to seven Nigerians about their experiences being bullied in secondary school.
Charles.
When I was younger, I was fat. Like not just chubby, I was fat in the sense that if I step into a room all my classmates or church friends or even adults would stare. I don’t think I went a day without being reminded I was fat. It was awful. Adults oh, children oh. Same thing. But the worst was in school. I would be on my own and people would push me to the ground and they’ll laugh. I would be like what did I ever do to you? And the worst part was that even the teachers seemed to all just dislike me so I found it hard to ever report to them. I think the worst was this thing that happened in JS3. I went to the toilet. My school had a row of toilets that was kind of disconnected but still close to the block of classrooms so sometimes you could smell if someone was using it. I went to use it. I had barely entered when a group descended on me. They said I was the reason the toilets were smelling. More people joined the group and they were laughing at me. I peed on myself. This was around 1 pm and my school closed by 3:15 pm. I had to wear those shorts till school closed. That thing did something to my mind. I don’t think I can ever truly get over it.
Nini.
I was bullied the first day I gained admission to secondary school. I was excited to gain admission at a young age. My mom packed me a big lunch box, my uniform was like a maternity gown and I was wearing this heavy ‘koko’ shoe. When I got to school, the assembly was in session so I just walked in and sat down. All of a sudden, a couple of seniors beside me started laughing and pointing. One of them said, “see this ugly girl, what is she wearing?” It got to the point that everyone caught on and all the seniors started laughing at me. It was horrible because it continued for days. I stopped taking food to school after the first week.
There are countless experiences like this too. I was called all sorts of names for no reason and it was horrible. One day, I went to school with a hoodie and the cap was on, to cover my bad haircut. In the middle of a joint class, someone yanked the hoodie off. Everyone started laughing and they hit my head. I was in tears but no one cared. Even the teacher burst into laughter. My head was red from the hitting and I felt so awful.
Eddie.
I was in a boarding school in Calabar. I had the senior students and my peers refer to me as a “faggot”. They said I walked and talked like a girl and some senior boys said they would soon “beat it out of me”. I used to be asked to walk from one end of the hostel to the other while they watched and if I didn’t “walk like a man”, I would get a hard slap on each side of my face. I got slapped several times every afternoon. Sometimes so bad that I would cry bitterly afterwards. I started hiding out in the classroom buildings after school hours, afraid to go to the hostels for afternoon siesta because I knew one of them would come and find me for their “exercise”. When siesta would be over and everyone came back out for afternoon prep, I would sneak back into the hostel and change my clothes and then head back out. This was a regular occurrence for months. I finally got beat up badly one day by a senior student that one side of my butt swelled up like a pumpkin. A teacher saw it and reported the case. After that, my parents moved me to a different boarding school.
Arxn.
I always wanted to go to the boarding house because it meant being away from my parents. My first week in secondary school, the bullying started, not from seniors but my mates. They would keep me out of “secret meetings” because I had a “big mouth”. I had never really hung out with girls before so this was a glaring experience, trying to see what I did wrong etc. Then the worst thing happened, two of the popular babes in my set asked me to escort them to class on a Saturday. I obliged because I thought I was making progress. We got there and met two popular boys who were also in our set and who they were crushing on. These girls set me up to be raped and assaulted. They pushed me into the classroom with the boys, who got a hold of me and started fondling me, everywhere. I almost ran mad, I was screaming for them to help me but they ignored me and started walking back to the hostel. The boys stopped because they didn’t understand what was happening. The girls told them that I wanted it.
Dee.
I changed schools in SS1 so I had to make new friends all over again. There was this girl, Kamila, that didn’t like me and went as far as telling me I should know my place and not step on her toes. She would see me passing and whisper something to her group of friends and they would immediately burst out laughing and pointing at me. That hurt.
One of the few friends I made was Amina, one day she lost the CDs that she borrowed from me and I got mad and stopped talking to her because she didn’t even bother to apologize. Next thing she did was tell everyone in our class that I was a prostitute and that I had AIDS. This girl went round all the classes (science, arts and commercial) to write on the boards that I was a prostitute lol. I would pass and someone would not so quietly say “ashawo” and everyone would start giggling. Or I would be talking to someone and Amina would come with “eww stop talking to her, she has AIDS” or “don’t touch her if you don’t want to catch AIDS.” That went on for over a year. Amina joined forces with Kamila to make my life miserable.
Ego.
I went to a Christian boarding school. I grew up super pampered, even more than my siblings so adjusting was hard for me and I think it made people hate me. I got bullied for everything. At a point, I was getting punished every Friday for fun. Seniors hated me so much, they got my mates to bully me too. They’d go as far as telling their guy friends to not associate with me. I was a super outcast with like only five friends in the whole school.
One time, a senior lined the popular girls from my hostel up and they all took turns insulting me unprovoked. I had an older sister and I was always afraid to tell her things because I was constantly getting threatened with beatings.
Nobody ever talks about what bullying does to you. I went from quiet and peaceful to angry and extremely violent. I didn’t know how to handle confrontation or anything I didn’t like without violence.
Florence.
When I was in year 7, I had these group of friends and there was this boy in Year 8 who was very popular and cute and he liked me. I didn’t know that one of the girls in this friend group had a crush on him and was pained that we were ‘together’. They were all Hausa so they would speak their language and I wouldn’t know they were insulting me the whole time I was with them. There was a day when another Hausa friend I had was listeneing in on their conversation and told me that they hand plans to ‘destroy’ me. So what these girls did is that they went to the bathroom which had maybe like 6/7 stalls. These girls wrote all over the stalls and walls of this bathroom that year 7-9s were using. They wrote stuff like ‘Florence* is a bitch’, “Florence* is a slut” and other berating things with a permanent marker. So obviously everybody saw it and they kept talking about it. A teacher saw it too and called me to talk to the headmistress. I told her that I knew who did it. The minute I called the main girl’s name, the woman told me she couldn’t do anything about it. I later found out that her dad was giving the school money for a new multipurpose hall. Anyways the woman made me go to the science lab to get ethanol to clean my own name from the bathroom walls. She said that since I didn’t have proof and it was my name, I’d have to clear it up. Ended up leaving the school after year 9 and they didn’t even bother changing the stall doors. So people who I didn’t even know knew that I was a slut and a bitch.
The one just comes to class to read their note to you. They won’t explain shit. If anybody asks a question, they’ll immediately give it to the class as an assignment. No one knows if they don’t know shit or do know shit but just don’t give a shit. They give off “Aired. DFKM” vibes.
2) The Oversabi Teacher
This one will teach you so much shit They will ensure you buy 12 different textbooks for one subject. If you think having all these textbooks will save you from copying notes, you’re wrong. They will come to school on public holidays, days that there are strikes, and will even risk their lives during riots just so they can come to teach. They are the simultaenously the best and the worst.
3) The Teacher that just likes to beat people for no (and any) reason.
This asshole teacher comes from home with their own assortment of canes. They will find ANY reason to flog people. You will even catch them helping other teachers flog. They are masochists in disguise.
4) The Joker
This one will come to class and crack jokes instead of teaching. All they do is crack terrible jokes the whole time and the students have to sit there and laugh because not laughing means failure.
5) The Fashionista
This is that female teacher that comes to school everyday dressed like she just left the club. Short tight mini dresses/skirts, insanely high heeled shoes and the kind of insane makeup you only seen in Lady Gaga music videos.
6) The one that thinks she’s a fashionista but really isn’t.
This teacher tries too hard to be stylish but ends up serving homeless chic realness. Even her fellow teachers know her fashion sense is shit and laugh at her behind her back.
7) The Ashewo
That one teacher (male or female) who keeps trying to hook up with other teachers. If you walk into the staff room, you’ll most likely catch them saying wildly inappropriate stuff.
8) The Snitch
That teacher who (forgets that snitches get stitches and end up in ditches and) runs to the Principal’s office to report any small thing that happens.
9) The Storyteller
This one will keep interrupting the day’s lesson to tell the class a story about that time they lived in India or some other boring shit. The worst thing about this is that half the time, they’re lying.
10. The Ghost
This one NEVER comes to class throughout the term and is somehow be able to pull this off without the Principal finding out. Eventually they’ll emerge, 3 days before exams, and quietly tell the students the exam questions they’re going to set before vanishing again.
We’ve already had you prove that you grew up in a Nigerian home with a Nigerian mother. Now, we want to see if you attended a proper Nigerian secondary school. If you did, this quiz should be very easy for you.
It is break time in SS2C. Kunle goes out to buy Sausage while Charles buys biscuits. Well, you already know who the bigger boy is between the both of them, and, importantly, who pulls more chicks.
We round up foods that showed you were a big boy/girl in secondary school:
1. Sausage
Sausage was the GOAT. A chow fit for the biggest students atop the social strata.
2. Corn Flakes
You certainly couldn’t have been a big boy or girl without feeding on cornflakes. Never.
3. Samosa
God bless Samosa. AMEN.
4. Bread and Egg (Contraband)
Ah, bread and egg was for the most criminal elements in secondary school. If you ate it consistently, you are Kirikiri material.
5. Indomie and Egg (Contraband)
Another banned meal, considering that most students weren’t allowed to cook. If you actually made Indomie and egg as a student, you can survive Nigeria.
6. Spring rolls
Spring rolls was big boy/girl chow. End of.
7. Cabin Biscuit
Yktv. Pour into a bowl and add water, milk, sugar. Legendary.
8. Ghana Buns
Ah, I saved the best for last. By far the best buns I’ve tasted. If you didn’t have this in Secondary school, I’m sorry.
If you were among the “happening” boys and girls in secondary school, then you definitely used or knew someone who used at least 7 of the products in this quiz. These were gateway drugs to the expensive perfumes and fancy makeup lines we use today.
Whether you were actually a prefect or not, we know which role would have suited your personality. Take this quiz and we’ll let you know whether you were head prefect or social prefect material.
Everyone who attended secondary school in Nigeria probably has a bunch of great memories, but we are sure there are some terrible ones too. Here are 16 sentences that will remind you of how annoying secondary school could be sometimes.
1. “ALL STAND GREET!”
The pain you felt whenever that annoying teacher entered the class.
2. “What was the last thing I said?”
Why did they love stressing us?
3. “Everyone tear out a sheet of paper.”
You knew failure was around the corner.
4. “You have just 10 minutes more.”
You never understood how the time always flew by.
5. “PENS UP!”
The worst.
6. “Results are out.”
This sentence always put the fear of God in you.
7. “I’ll be calling out your scores.”
The whole class got to see your shame.
8. “All of you kneel down there.”
Getting dragged into group punishments that didn’t concern you.
9. “Everybody move out for prep.”
Why did this even exist?
10. “The principal is calling you.”
The scariest thing you could ever hear.
11. “LAST JUNIOR!”
The most triggering of all.
12. “When is your next free period?”
That teacher that always wanted to steal your free period.
13. “Just give me 5 minutes out of your break time.”
You now had to watch everyone else play outside.
14. “Come and collect it at the end of the term.”
What you heard whenever your contraband got seized.
15. “Everyone bring out your notes.”
You knew you were about to get flogged for an incomplete note.
16. “Go and wait for me in my staff room.”
That moment you got sent to the land of no return.
If you went to a Nigerian secondary school, then you should know every single item in this quiz. The real challenge here is remembering the brands responsible for them. Let’s see if you can get more than 7 right.
If you had a Nigerian parent, then you most likely had to deal with an annoying lesson teacher at some point in your life. Well, for the sake of nostalgia, we’ve compiled 13 hilarious things you’ll relate to if you ever had one.
If you went to a secondary school in Nigeria, then you probably know what a slum book is. Filled with mostly banal questions and a few nosy ones, it was the ultimate way to fish out your crushes and confirm who you real friends were.
1. When your friend doesn’t give you their slum book to fill.
Jesus, is this what it feels like to be betrayed?
2. When no one writes your name amongst finest in class.
So, I am ugly?
3. When someone’s slum book has too many questions.
Abeg, we’ve already done exam.
4. When you find out you’re not your best friend’s best friend.
So, the last few years have been a lie?
5. Girls designing their slum book page like:
Oshey artist.
6. When a teacher gets their hands on a slum book.
Hay God.
7. You, checking to see if your crush likes you too:
God, do it for your child.
8. When your crush writes “nil” instead of their phone number.
What are you forming?
9. When someone you don’t rate gives you their slum book to fill.
Who be this one?
10. “Books before boys because boys bring babies.”
Every girl wrote this.
11. You, trying to think of the perfect phrase to sign out with:
For everyone who went to secondary school in Nigeria, there are common annoying and borderline traumatic experiences that link us all together. So, we gathered 13 of them to see if they’d trigger some equally funny and unpleasant memories.
1. Losing these weeks to exams:
Your enemies have won.
2. When two seniors are giving you opposing instructions.
What is this stress?
3. “Tear out a sheet of paper.”
Excuse me?
4. When you see your name in the list of noisemakers with “X 6”.
Based on what?
5. “All stand greet.”
Here we go again.
6. The sound of this:
The worst sound ever.
7. “Last junior.”
Can’t be me.
8. These outfits:
Ugly nonsense.
9. “Everybody kneel down.”
Hay God!
10. “Don’t touch it or I’ll start again.”
The last thing you want to hear when they are flogging you.
11. When they finish flogging you and your friends start saying sorry.
Back in secondary school, people starved for months just so they could use their pocket money to buy stupid gifts (or stage elaborate gestures ) for their then significant others. Tell me. How did those relationships turn out? Do you even still remember their names?
You didn’t expect to be shamed when you opened this article, did you? Well, sit back, relax, and grab a snack because there’s more on the way. Here are 5 valentine’s day gifts you most likely gave or received in secondary school.
1) A Card
Full of mushy heartfelt and sincere wishes written by some poor child in a Chinese sweatshop. All you did was write your name at the end and hope that the sentiments expressed in the card were enough to get you to second base.
2) Flower
SAMSUNG CSC
Notice how I said “flower” and not “flowers?” That’s because they usually bought that single synthetic rose (you know the one) that smelled like camphor. Seriously, one strong sniff of those things was enough to instantly get you to Chernobyl-levels of cancer.
3) Perfume
Perfumes that were more water than fragrance and had the most insane packaging e.g. having the bottle be shaped like a woman striking a sexy pose and the cover be a giant flower, making the woman look like a distant relative of Toad from Super Mario.
4) Love-shaped picture frame.
The ones nobody could ever use because no photographer back in the day developed pictures that small.
5) Teddy Bear
They were hella cheap too so they always fell apart slowly over a couple of months like a poorly-built build-a-bear project. It was the thought that counted, though.
#ICYMI: We made a new show named Blind Date in which we sent a bunch of single people on an all-expense-paid date, interviewing them before and after they met. The first episode drops February 14 (Valentine’s Day) on our YouTube channel.
For many people, the start of a new school term was something to look forward to. The excitement to start a new class, the eagerness to use new textbooks, and of course, school also meant a lot of people got a long-ass break from being the grumpy in-house maid. And there was you who liked to add a week to your holidays. You didn’t feel the urgency others felt to return to school, you would be there for the remainder of the year, so what was the rush?
Now is the perfect time to remind you of everything you faced whenever you eventually decided to “show your face”.
The struggle to get a seat
Your mates had been moved to a new class, and the early birds seemed to have taken all the good spots. Your friends, who you had hoped would help you get a seat, sly you. It meant doom because you had to take wherever was available, which could be the one spot with a direct view of the teacher.
Your friends had moved on from you
The minds of children are fickle, and your first experiences of that were during your secondary school days. It turned out that the people you thought were your friends really couldn’t give two shits if you came back. It was one thing for them to have new seat partners, and another thing for them to have settled into a life without you in it.
There was a mountain of work to catch up on
Yes, this was a given. Nobody was going to wait for you before serious work started. It’d been only a week, but there were series of class works and assignments already. And of course, the hardest part of it all was the notes you had to copy. When you got to the senior class, this became even more of an inconvenience because, biology and economics.
But none of this mattered because you were the
flyest
New term, new school bags, uniforms, and shoes. The others got the same new things, but theirs didn’t count as new anymore. Yours were the newest and you couldn’t be caught un-fresh. The tardiness may be a thing your teachers hated, but your drip was forever.
To get a better understanding of Nigerian life, we started a series called ‘Compatriots’, detailing the everyday life of the average Nigerian. As a bi-weekly column, a new installment will drop every other Tuesday of the month, exploring some other aspect of the Nigerian landscape.
In this article, we had a peephole view into the life of a Nigerian whose primary and secondary schooling experiences were marred by the simple fact that he was from a sphere of life entirely different from that of his peers.
My formative years were spent navigating life in primary and secondary schools, filled with the children of parents whose combined incomes could easily fund the running of a small country.
As the child of parents whose determination to provide the fineries of life was marred only by a glaring financial incapacity to do so, this afforded me a double education of sorts. On one hand, I grasped the rudiments of arithmetic, civics and the like. And on the other — I was made privy to a very, very practical approach on just how class-systems worked.
I had easily one of the best purely educational experiences money could buy, and I say this not in an overly sentimental ‘I love my school’ kind of way. My primary school, with its adjoining secondary institution, surely cracks any list recognising top academic performers in Lagos State, or maybe even Nigeria (but this might be the sentiment creeping in). Its (needless) nationally exclusionary syllabus boasted a mix of British and American curricula, or something of the sort – which made it a fly trap for the children of CEOs, bank executives, Consul Officers and other officials whose hyphenated positions only served to underscore the importance of their roles.
Equally enamoured by the prospect of a school that promised international learning at your back door, was my mother. Now, by no contortion of reality was she in the same league as CEOs and bank execs. Throughout the duration of my elementary and secondary schooling, she served as a cleaner in an incredibly ornate high-rise apartment complex within the vicinity of my schools. From there, she would make, what I I can only imagine was a constantly harrowing daily trip, past manicured lawns and fortified estate gates, to our sparsely furnished home in one of the lesser known shanties of Lagos State.
Perhaps this spurred the determination that her last child have a fighting chance at a better life. Resolute, she sourced for support for my education in the multi-levelled complex which she cleaned. Finding and spreading sponsors across its many floors like confetti. Thus began my journey as a shanty boy, rubbing shoulders with the spawn of the high and mighty of society.
Having a chance to look back at it, it’s a bit of a marvel how children, yet to fully comprehend the notions of good and evil, or even the three-times table, can so unreservedly grasp the concept of shame without any outside assistance.
I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact moment I knew for a fact, that there was something that made me distinct from my peers. But it was always the little things that set me off.
It was in the way my mates in primary school appeared pristine to class every morning, not a hair out of place, or a sweat broken, during their commute from air-conditioned home to air-conditioned chauffeur-driven car, straight into the school premises. I, on the other hand, was sure to make an appearance, a little slick with sweat, shirt most likely untucked, with socks just begging to tell the tale of how my 13-minute (unaccompanied) walk to school, made friends of the dirt and sand along the way.
It was noticing, in Year 4, during that great stationery transition — how my Bic pen, with paper rolled into the tube proudly announcing your name, surname and class, differed greatly from that of my peers. Whose fountain, ballpoint and fluffy-headed gel pens added an extra flourish to writing, that the stain-happy Bic pen, just couldn’t.
It was even in the timbre of their voices. These children, who barely scratched the surface of adolescence, had a certainty of self and a rapport with teachers, I can only imagine was lubricated by being surrounded by, and giving direction to, armies of domestic staff. Whereas they had no reservations letting the teacher know where they had trailed off, or asking to have a missed point repeated; I was resolutely mute. Almost looking for permission to exist within the classroom.
It was listening in on conversations that centred round children programmes only available on satellite televisions and feeling like my peers were speaking in another language. One which needed an Ikoyi- club membership and a minimum two-person domestic staff to understand.
But sometimes, it was in the big things.
Like a teacher laughingly requesting that I put my hands down, after instructing that all last-born children in class raise their hands during an exercise. My kind of ‘last born’ wasn’t the sort being referred to.
Or having to feign disinterest for the umpteenth time, in school excursions that might as well have required pounds of flesh in payment.
The very many humiliating instances of being pulled out of class to answer for late fee payments. There was being invited to the homes of my peers for birthday celebrations and feeling like I had taken a left from earth and somehow landed in The Emerald City. Houses with corridors big enough to envelop the entirety of my home, that included dogs held as voluntary inhabitants, and not resilient strays you had to shoo away for picking your home as a marked spot.
It was being relegated to the service quarters in the apartment complex where my mother cleaned, while my peers (who lived in the flats), freely traipsed about the community.
It was always managing to stick out somehow in class photographs, no matter how much I laundered my uniform the day before.
It was a perpetual inability to fit in.
By secondary school, when adolescence multiplied self-awareness and embarrassment to the Nth degree, I had learned to reserve the whole truth when asked about my mother’s profession. Substituting her role as cleaner, for the more non-committal ‘worker’ in the buildings. An act for whose memory still makes me recoil.
Resumption weeks came to be dreaded. When stories of those who travelled abroad and had international hang-outs were freely swapped. Somehow, I knew my tales of transforming Lagos’ beaches into second homes with my friends, wouldn’t quite have made the cut.
My battles with esteem raged on during those years. Mornings, afternoons and evenings were hard. On several occasions, I fantasised about transferring to the public schools my neighbours in our shanty community attended. Where group walks to school wouldn’t be viewed as odd. Where no one would hide a snigger, while pointing out the fact that I had outgrown the uniform I honestly considered a better fit from the only other ill-fitting unit at home. Neither of which could be replaced for obvious financial reasons.
A school where I wouldn’t have to smile through students expressing fake-worry at the additional letters my ‘designer’ footwear sported, when kitting up for recreational activities in school.
But watching me, you would never have guessed.
To the outside observer, I was a spunky teen in class. Quick with retorts to anything that bordered on absolute disrespect to myself or my family’s station in life. Admirable athletic ability and some intelligence, or enough intelligence that it didn’t pose additional ammo for my already blood-thirsty colleagues. When in reality, I was constantly riddled with self-doubt, anxiety and shame.
This is not to say I had nothing but a nightmarish experience in school. For all the bad, it was almost completely countered by the lifelong relationships I forged with classmates who didn’t consider status in life, a caveat for fostering friendships. I’d also be remiss to ignore the great educational impact the school had in my life, while simultaneously exposing me to students whose ways of life, travels and experiences broadened any knowledge I could probably have hoped to gain, relating only with my ilk.
But was I glad to finally see the back of it, to attend a more socially-representative university? You can not imagine the relief.
*Locations and specific experiences have been tweaked to protect the identity of the narrator.
If you’ve been reading this every Monday, you know the drill at this point. If you haven’t, now you know that Zikoko talks to anonymous people every week about their relationship with the Naira.
Sometimes, it will be boujee, other times, it will be struggle-ish. But all the time–it’ll be revealing.
What you should know about the guy in this story: He’s a 23-year-old Youth Corps member working at a decent place of primary assignment in Lagos.
When was the first time you made money?
I was in SS1, and a day student too, so I used to sell noodles. This is how it worked; boarding students were getting served horrible food, so selling a better alternative to them meant an instant hit.
I’d wake up early – like 5am – prepare the noodles based on orders I’d received. Then take everything to school. I was fulfilling a real need, so it wasn’t hard to charge them ₦500 per plate.
In SS2, PTDF – that Petroleum Technology Development Fund thing – they donated computers to my school, about 100 of them. Bu you know what was crazy? The school wasn’t allowing us use them, something about us not being tech-savvy or so we don’t spoil them. They literally just locked them up like they were furniture.
So imagine that one day, we’re all just chilling in the hostel, me and my friends, and someone just said, “what if we took these parts of the computers from the lab, you know, the ones easy to replace. And then we sold them?”
And that’s how we started, we managed to get the key from the prefect in charge of where the computers were kept, then we’d sneak in, take a couple of things, a hard drive here, a mouse there, etc. Then we’d sell them at the side of town where everyone went for the computer parts and Tokunbo phones. There were about four of us, but any time we sold anything we used to get over ₦30k, then we’d split it.
In typical fashion, the others boys found out in the hostel, and it became an absolute mess. They were moving entire computer monitors and stuff.
That is absolutely crazy.
You know what was even crazier? The school had external visitors, and in typical fashion, they wanted to “show off the computers to being used to prepare for our digital future.” A madness. Then they just opened the lab, and bam, missing computers here and there.
We never got found out.
What would have happened if they caught you guys?
Expulsion, most likely. There was always the fear of getting caught, but the money kinda balanced out that fear. That time, I’d just jump the school fence and go deposit it in my Kiddies Bank Account – I already had a bank account then.
How old were you?
16 – a proper Juvenile Delinquent.
Anyway, it was a mostly dry patch after that. I tried out buying and selling stuff, like clothes. That’s when I realised that this version of buying and selling, where I didn’t create the product, sucked.
I started writing, and learning graphics, and getting paid to do them, but the gigs were far too few and far in between for it to be called a real gig.
Then my allowance from home got sparser and sparser – my folks were having money struggles – and I had to do something about it. So I had this friend who was cashing out like mad selling weed – Loud specifically.
I invested ₦35k that should get you a quarter ounce, and you know how much I got back in 2 weeks? ₦50k – that’s a 43% return on investment. I threw more money in, and that’s how I survived my final year in school, mostly feeding off dividends.
You were trafficking drugs?
Basically. I mean, I dunno what the constitution says about that, but I know if you get caught, you’re going to pay.
I wasn’t directly in contact with any clientele, because I really was just an investor, but the market was mostly working class people and anyone who could pay. Students couldn’t afford to pay ₦5k for a bag.
When I was leaving school, I exited at ₦200k. But in total, I think I made up to half a million in like 11 months. The money never came in chunks, except for when I exited.
Then post-school, I reconnected with a previously distant relative, who kind of stepped up, and the random cash boosts were helpful. But it wasn’t consistent, and you don’t want to depend on that kind of money.
What was your solution?
Finding multiple streams of income. I even tried to secure posting to some company that was willing to pay ₦80k, but it didn’t work out.
Currently, money just comes from NYSC and my place of primary assignment. I’m trying to figure shit out while trying not to get screwed over with the law or something.
How much do you get in a month currently?
I get up to 55k now every month – enough for a few Uber trips, transport and food.
What’s the most interesting NYSC season has taught you about money?
Everybody lies about money. Parents lie about money. Friends lie about money. NYSC people lie about money – a corper told me he was getting ₦100k. It’s not impossible to earn that, but I found out that it was a lie. Like, he had no reason to lie, yet he did. Guys at work will never tell you how much they earn. Also, everyone seems to be living beyond their means.
Looking at your skillset, how much do you feel like you should be earning right now?
I feel like I should be earning between 100 and ₦150k. But getting good money right now, that would be about ₦3 million a year. Still, this number will not help me pay rent where I’d like to live. I won’t be able to consistently handle family emergencies when they come up, because they will come up.
What’s your unpopular opinion about money?
Money is amoral. I understand the importance of money – don’t get me wrong – but people try to moralise money. Like, this is how you should earn etc, and I don’t get it. As long as I’m not hurting anybody, I don’t see a problem with the method.
It’s why I never dabbled into Internet fraud – I was surrounded by it in school – but you literally had to take money from someone who wasn’t willing to give you by manipulation. That’s fraud.
Also, I now realise that money really is the biggest motivator. If you pay people, they just tend to act right.
How much do you imagine you’ll be earning in like 5 years?
I was on Complex.com the other day and they pay about $2,500 monthly to their writers. So if I’m earning that, using today’s estimates, I’ll say I’ve done pretty well with the piece-of-shit degree that means nothing to me.
Forget the 5-year question, where do you imagine you’ll be financially in 30 years.
30 years might be too much for me, my imagination tends to run wild. But 10 years, I feel like I would have figured out a lot of it, not all of it. Wherever I’m at, I’m just going to try to be content. Because it’s not about how much you earn, but how happy you are with it – or some shit like that.
If you can’t think about 30 years now, then you clearly haven’t thought about a pension.
Nope. I’ve never really seen myself as someone that would need a pension. I just feel like if in 30 years, I can’t afford the life I need, maybe I didn’t do life right.
What’s something you really want right now but can’t afford?
A very long list of tech that keeps getting longer. Mainly a good Mac, a Sony mirrorless camera, GoPros, etc.
What’s the last you paid for that required serious planning?
A website. Setting it up cost me roughly ₦50k.
What about the most annoying miscellaneous you’ve had to pay for?
Apple Music. Paying for music. Like, I miss 2006. You download music now and everybody thinks you’re archaic. But that’s just the way things are now.
Do you have an emergency plan for when you fall sick and –
– I’m fucked. That’s probably why I never fall sick. Life is very much in limbo right now. But I’m working on plans to prepare an emergency fund. Maybe in a small buying and selling-ish business.
Do you feel like NYSC is a financial hindrance for you or…?
Not really. I needed time off. I was burned out after University. Even if there was no NYSC, I might have had a gap year or something. I just needed a break from chasing and all of that.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t even get a job, but then I can’t complain. I have job experience – valuable business development experience.
NYSC is ending in less than a year, what’s the money thing looking like?
I’ve not even really planned everything to the letter, to be honest. But the best case scenario is that I get retained at my current place of primary assignment. That might give me up to 150k for a starting salary. Do that for a year or two, then I go back to school to get another degree.
The goal is to attempt to grow my income enough to cater for two people at the minimum. Not because I intend to become the sole provider or anything, but as a personal target. I just want to be able to help out. I’ll consider it a successful three years if I can go to school and juggle work.
Worst case scenario, none of this happens, and I end up looking for a job. Or find a small gig, while doing stuff I truly give a shit about on my own time.
Despite all of this, how would you rate your happiness levels?
I’ve never really been the happiest person. But I’m alive sha, I don’t worry a lot.
I’m trying to enjoy the impermanence of my situation, and not think too much about it.
Check back every Monday at 9 am (WAT) for a peek into the Naira Life of everyday people.
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No matter what part of Nigeria you went to boarding school, we are pretty sure your dining hall served at least half of these meals.
Yam and Eggs
Yam and eggs were usually served on Saturday or Sunday morning. Remember how sharing the egg used to cause fight? Or how the bowl or cooler would be half filled with eggs and half filled with oil? Then they’ll now serve it with one large slice of yam.
Garri and moin moin
If you didn’t carry extra sugar for your garri from your dorm then you weren’t ready for life. And why was the moin-moin always so small? Did anybody else steal extra moin-moin to go and eat in their dorms later?
Jollof rice and chicken.
Jollof rice and chicken was usually served on Sunday afternoons. Remember how they used to only serve the most miserable parts of the chicken then when there is a special occasion like school anniversary the chicken will miraculously become bigger and spicier. Some schools had Jollof rice and meat instead, then chicken for the special occasions.
Spaghetti and fish stew or noodles
Why did anyone ever think it was a good idea to serve spaghetti or noodles in Nigerian boarding schools? If you went for your meal early and got lucky then it’ll be hot and nice but most of the time the spaghetti or noodles will be cold and clumped together. When it’s not garri cake.
Akara and ogi
Immediately after having this on Saturday or Sunday morning if you didn’t take a long nap then you are not a human being. The days the ogi was watery were the worst.
White rice and stew
This was every boarding school’s favourite weekday lunch. If it wasn’t white rice, stew and meat then it was white rice, stew and fish.
Eba and egusi
The eba will now be stone cold and the egusi will be watery. If you didn’t get served egusi you got served some kind of strange vegetable soup.
Bread and stew
Remember how the stew was supposed to be fish stew but you won’t see any fish you’d only be tasting the fish in the stew. If you were lucky you’ll see one small chunk of fish.
Yam porridge
I don’t know why they used to bother to call it porridge, it was just yam and palm oil garnished with very little vegetable. At least we hope it was vegetable they were using.
Bread and eggs
The bread and egg struggle was too real if you were unlucky you’ll only get the oil at the bottom of the bowl instead of egg. Sometimes instead of fried egg, they’d serve one cold boiled egg.
We know the food struggle was real but who else misses boarding school?
Whether it’s bathing in the cold, bathing with just a bowl of water or bathing with just five minutes left before the hostel gate is closed, boarding school has taught us to live life on the fast side. So you know that harmattan showers ain’t got nothing on you, you can have your bath and rush out the house if you ever find yourself running late, and if your landlord thinks he can suffer you by locking the well and hiding the key, he’s got another thing coming, a satchet or two of pure water will be just enough to do the job.
2. How to dress even when under duress.
When there’s only two seconds left on the clock and you have to put on your underwear, slip on your school uniform, wear your socks and your shoes, and maybe even toss on a beret, boarding school has taught us that speed and agility are qualities that don’t only belong to the cheetah. So that when you find yourself running late for work, there’s no fear of showing up in the office wearing bathroom slippers for shoes.
3. How to think on your feet.
When a senior student suddenly appears in front of you and is about to send you on an errand, you have a split second to think of an excuse or risk being the J-girl messenger of the day. The ability to come up with an elaborate excuse like this, “I’m sorry Senior, I have a drug in the sickbay that I have to take every 30 minutes in front of the nurses”, will save you in many future on-the-spot moments like when you have a presentation at work, or even trying to convince a lover that you didn’t do something you both know you did but which you would very much like to get off the hook for.
4. How to be resourceful with little in order to get much.
When it’s nearing the end of the term and provisions are scarce, the “soak and travel” method of drinking garri is one example of how boarding school taught us to be careful with little so that we can get much. And this is one skill that will definitely serve well at moments when the adulting life hits hard but the pride is too much to ask anyone for help.
5. How to eat quickly so no one can join you.
In the dinning hall, there’s barely any time to eat your food. You alternate between eating standing or walking, and there’s no time to chat or take occasionally sips of water, not to talk of even read a book. This is a very important skill for life, especially when dealing with those kinds of people who actually bring a spoon when you out of courtesy tell them, “come and eat”. Ain’t nobody got time for a ration-stealer, so you cut them short. Finish the food so they can’t find anything to eat on the plate.
6. How to drink water without ever having to put your lips to the mouth of the bottle.
It’s slightly tricky and it might take some time, but eventually every boarder gets the hang of it. Tilt your head back, lift the bottle, angle it parallel to the lips, open the mouth – stylishly, not too wide like an idiot – and then pour. The key is to bring the bottle to you not your lips to the bottle. There are several benefits of this skill, and all of them revolve around it being healthy. No more shared saliva, no fear of backwash, no risk of contracting mouth diseases, if ever a life skill was needed, it’s definitely this!
7. How to tell a story and tell it well.
Much of your time in boarding school, apart of the time spent in class, running errands for seniors or serving various punishments, is also usually spent engaging in spirited conversations with classmates. A lot of gist and stories gets passed round. This is typically when the myths of the various things haunting the hostel comes out, and the people who tell these tales do so in the most captivating and enthralling way. A necessary life skill when you have to make small talk at a dinner party or gathering of otherwise boring colleagues from work. You become the life of the party, and because of the exciting stories you tell, everyone will know your name, including your boss!
8. How to pinch, manage and save for the rainy – and sometimes harmattan – day.
When you have to find a way to manage with just one pair of uniforms or housewear after all the others have been stolen from the clothes line, washing and towel-drying it so you can have something to wear the next day, you develop the ability to manage and style your one good pair of work pants in such a way that even your boss will start to wonder where you get the time to go and shop.
9. How to use the toilet without using the toilet.
When it comes to using the toilet in boarding school, it’s all about the arch. Whether it’s with a traditional toilet, a pit latrine or just yourself, a piece of paper, and the side of JSS1 block, you have to be quick, precise and careful with the arch. This is so that you make no mistake by either catching a toilet disease or tossing your “package” the wrong way when you’re done. The key is to be able to do your business as quickly and discreetly as possible. And just like being able to drink water without putting your lips to the mouth of the bottle, this life skill will definitely save you, especially when you find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere with a broken down car and a desire to relieve yourself, or when you get mobilized and sent to an NYSC orientation camp that has more bushes than it has toilets.
If you feel these life skills are the truth, here’s more boarding school truth for you:
