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
Single Parents | Zikoko!
  • The #NairaLife of a 45-Year-Old Living Her Best Life Driving Cabs

    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.


    Nairalife #256 bio

    What’s your earliest memory of money?

    It has to be my mum paying me ₦10 – ₦20 weekly to work in her ice water nylon factory. Before pure water became a thing, there was ice water — cold water in clear nylons. We made those nylons in the factory, and I handled the cutter. 

    This was in the late 80s, and I was nine years old. ₦20 was the highest denomination, and I could buy Vip — a fruit drink — every day for five days and still have enough left to save in my kolo. Later, I’d give my mum what I’d saved to buy me Christmas clothes.

    Sometimes, I’d buy about 20 pieces of puff-puff and share with my brothers. I’m the only girl among five siblings, so I had a sense of responsibility towards them.

    Tell me more about your childhood

    My dad died when I was almost 10, and there was no financial support from my dad’s family, so I was raised by my mum. My mum was so hardworking. She’d supply her nylons to markets in neighbouring states and do everything else she could lay her hands on — she sold everything from clothes to fashion accessories at different points. She wasn’t the type to wait for handouts, and she instilled those values in me.

    She put me in charge of the house even before I was 9. A typical day in my life included waking up super early to sweep, do other house chores, and go to school or work at the factory if it was during the holidays. 

    My brothers also got to work. My mum would send them to farms to work and make money; she just wanted all her children to be as industrious as she was.

    How long did you work at the factory?

    About seven years. After finishing secondary school in 1995, my mum encouraged me to get a teaching job at a local private school, and my salary was ₦800/monthly. I barely got the salary because the school’s proprietress kept owing me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to stay there for long: I left for the polytechnic the following year.

    While I was in school, my mum supported me by sending me earrings and other fashion accessories to sell and use the money for what I needed. Sometimes, I’d send part of the money I made back to her to get more goods through buses — there was no online banking then. I did that till I finished my National Diploma in 1999.

    What happened after?

    I studied banking, so I started a one-year internship at a bank. My salary was ₦5k monthly. The following year, I became a contract staff at the same bank, and my salary increased to ₦19k/month. I was the only one among my siblings with a stable income, so I’d usually send money to my siblings who were still in school. 

    I tried to return to school too. I needed to further my education to progress in my banking career and become a permanent staff member. I paid around ₦3k to register at the Chartered Institute of Bankers in 2001. The way the institute worked, you could attend classes for about six months before taking the exams. There were two exam diets annually, but I couldn’t focus because of work. 

    So, whenever I missed an exam, I’d re-enroll and try to prepare for the next exams. That happened at least twice. I still hadn’t figured it out when marriage jumped at me. 

    What do you mean “jumped”?

    My husband and I were dating when I was at the institute. He’d regularly come to pick me up after classes. He was in a rush to get married, and somehow, I started rushing too. We got married in 2003. 

    I wish I hadn’t rushed because balancing school, career and the home was a struggle. I also supported the home financially because my husband didn’t make much. As a result, I abandoned the institute for a more flexible distance-learning university degree programme in 2004. 

    Was it any easier?

    It wasn’t. It took me seven years to complete the four-year degree; I kept deferring semesters due to pregnancies, child care — I have two children — and work. 

    I was also running an imported fabrics and jewellery business on the side. I’d go to Cotonou with about ₦300k and convert it to 1m CFA. The exchange rate was still good then. I’d sell my goods to my co-workers and use whatever I made to supplement my salary. It was from both incomes I paid my school fees and took care of the home.

    Was your husband contributing financially at all?

    He did, a little. But there’s one thing to know about men: once they know you have work that’s bringing you money, they’d just leave some things to you. They know you won’t leave your children to go hungry.

    It wasn’t an issue for me at first. I’ve worked all my life, and providing was just something I did. I didn’t see a need to ask for money for food or any other joint need. It was my mum who’d tell me to make sure I collected money for food and diapers so he’d feel a sense of responsibility.

    I eventually left the marriage in 2009 for reasons I don’t want to get into. It was also the same year my bank started having problems.

    What kind of problems?

    The kind banks don’t recover from and are forced to close down. I didn’t even get a chance to use the degree I worked so hard for, as I only graduated a year after I left the bank.

    By this time, my salary had increased over the years to ₦125k/month. The bank paid off the staff and officially closed in 2010. I got a ₦3m payout. 

    So sorry. But the ₦3m payout must have been a lifeline

    It was. I put everything into my fabrics business and even got a shop. Everything was fine in the beginning. 

    But the thing about running a business while you have a stable job is that you can use your salary as a capital source if your money is tied up somewhere because of credit buyers. I even took loans to run the business and pay back with my salary. All of this ended when I lost my job.

    I had a major setback in 2011 when some of my major debtors lost their jobs. They worked in a bank that also closed up, but we thought they’d get a settlement. The bank never paid them, and my debtors — all 16 of them — had no way of paying me the ₦1m+ they owed me. I didn’t even see them again.

    Ah. Did they buy from you in bulk for their debt to be that high?

    My goods were pretty high-end. Before you buy one lace, an Italian bag or some expensive watches, the cost starts to pile up. 

    That particular incident affected my business badly. But my second name is jama-jama (hustler), and I somehow stuck through it for the next nine years.

    While running the business, I also learned about home design and decoration services in 2012. A friend introduced me to an interior designer who taught me the basics, and I started supplying bedsheets, picking curtains, and whatever furniture needs my clients had. 

    My first gig was in 2014. I procured curtains and a bar for the client’s home and made ₦80k in profit. I loved how the business didn’t require any capital. I’d just give my clients a quote, and they’d pay a percentage upfront and complete it after I delivered the job.

    How often did the home decor gigs come?

    Usually once every few months. But when they came, I’d take small loans from microfinance banks and travel to Aba to get materials.

    Why Aba?

    Fabrics were cheaper there, and I could save up to ₦500 per yard of fabric. That accumulated to a lot, considering I could buy up to 1000 yards of fabric depending on how big the job was. 

    I made an average of ₦200k – ₦500k from these gigs, and they supplemented whatever I made from the shop. But the shop itself wasn’t making sales. People could only look at expensive fabrics or fashion accessories after they had eaten na. So, I decided to close the shop in 2019. 

    What did you do next?

    I still sold my goods to some clients from home and occasionally got decoration gigs. Everything I made went into providing for my children and sending them to school. Of course, this forced me to live within my means. My family was also supportive and eager to step in when I needed help with the kids.

    My ex-husband supports the children in his own way. They keep in touch with him, and he sometimes sends them ₦30k once a year. What does that want to do in the life of an undergraduate student in school?

    Anyway, my search for a stable income led me to the transportation business in 2022, and I ended up as a cab driver on an e-hailing cab service.

    How did that happen?

    The initial plan was to give my car to someone to use as a taxi and remit money to me weekly. I took out a ₦200k loan from a microfinance bank to repair the car and paint it. I was supposed to repay the loan over five weeks.

    The agreement between me and the guy I found was that he would remit ₦25k every week, so I’d use the money to repay the loan I took. Then I could start making a profit after the loan had been paid off. I was the one to fix the car if it had any issues o. All he had to do was bring money weekly for as long as he drove my car. 

    But the guy kept giving excuses. It was by fire by force that he could even pay ₦80k in those five weeks.

    Wahala

    When I realised I was struggling to repay the microfinance loan, I collected my car back and told someone to help me register as a driver on the e-hailing app. My second child had just gotten admitted to study medicine, so it was all the more reason for me to double my hustle. How else would I afford the big big textbooks he’d inevitably start buying?

    That’s how I started o. I didn’t even know these drivers were making big money. I still drive the cab, and I don’t intend to stop soon. It’s better than all the jobs I’ve done. By the Grace of God, there’s no day I drive that I don’t make good money.

    How good is the money?

    When I first started, I made ₦30k – ₦40k daily on weekdays and ₦40k – ₦50k during the weekend. The e-hailing app takes a 25% fee on rides, but there is also a ₦9k – ₦10k bonus if you complete a certain number of rides per day. 

    I used to push myself to get those bonuses and work every day so I’d earn even more. But when I started having high blood pressure, I told myself, “Your children are still young. Better calm down.” 

    Now, I work four days a week. I still earn within the ₦40k range daily, but fuel takes about 30% – 40% of that. Then, after the app removes its commission too, what’s left of my profit is about 40%-50% of my total earnings. It’s still good money, even though car repairs and maintenance take a chunk of it. I don’t make as much as the men sha.

    Why’s that?

    They have the strength to do longer rides and ultimately make more money. I spoke to a male driver once, and he shared how he makes ₦50k – ₦100k on Sundays because he lives in Ikorodu and takes trips from there to Ajah.

    I’ve done a similar trip once when I was in Lekki and got an Ikorodu trip. That single trip paid ₦17k. Do only three trips like that in a day, and you’re easily making ₦50k+. 

    What’s a typical day in your life like?

    I start driving at 6:30 a.m. and close at 4 p.m. Sometimes, if the traffic is a lot by late afternoon, I take two hours off driving and then work till 8 p.m. Working as a cab driver allows me to determine my own work hours, but I still take it like I’m working for someone. I don’t just go home by 1 p.m. just because I want to.

    What would you say is the most difficult aspect of your job?

    It gets stressful sometimes. I also have to maintain the car regularly, but I see that as taking care of my office.

    I’ve heard stories about young female drivers being harassed, but I haven’t experienced it. Who wants to harass me at this age? I’ve not had any bad experiences with riders or fellow drivers. I believe respect is reciprocal. I always approach everyone calmly and respectfully, and they instinctively respond the same way. No one has been rude to me, and it’s because I’ve never been rude to anyone either. 

    [ad][/ad]

    What do the next few years look like for you?

    I’m still enjoying driving my cab. It’s a ready-made market. I don’t need to wake up and start looking for passengers. All I do is open my app, and they come. 

    I’ll look into returning to business when my children graduate from uni in 3-4 years so I can rest a bit. I might go back to fabrics or discuss with my children and find something else. But even if I have a shop, I’d still like to drive my cab three times a week.

    I also have monthly pension payments from my time at the bank to look forward to. It’ll start coming in when I’m 50. It might not even be up to ₦100k, but it’ll be something.

    What are your monthly expenses like?

    To be honest, I can’t explain it. It’s just God, because how do I explain that I don’t have money in my account and I still buy ₦20k fuel daily?

    But I make sure I meet up with my ajo contribution monthly. I contribute ₦50k every Sunday, and then ₦100k on the last Sunday of the month, bringing it to ₦300k monthly. When I collect the ajo, I transfer it to an account I don’t touch. It’s that money I use to sort out rent, school and hostel fees for my children, and anything else that comes up.

    I have about ₦200k stashed somewhere as emergency savings for urgent repairs I need to do on my car. My car is my major expense. In 2023, I spent up to ₦1m fixing and maintaining it. Just last week, I spent ₦73k on tokunbo tyres and plugs.

    What’s something you want right now but can’t afford?

    I need a new car. My car is about seven years old and takes all my money with repairs. I’d like to buy a 2010 Toyota Corolla, but it costs ₦7m. I can’t afford that. 

    How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?

    7. I don’t have everything I want, but I have what I need to provide a good life for myself and my children. God has been faithful. We don’t go hungry, and God just has a way of covering our secrets.


    If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

  • I Was Married Three Years Before My Husband Knew I Had Kids

    At 20, Mirabel* had made a string of bad decisions and found herself a single mother of two boys. Due to a fear of being judged, she hid her kids from her husband for three years. She talks about eventually telling him the truth, almost losing her marriage and learning how to mother her children after staying away for over a decade.

    This is Mirabel’s story, as told to Boluwatife

    Image: Pexels

    I know what it sounds like. I didn’t think I was capable of that level of deception, but push came to shove, and I chose myself. 

    Thankfully, I can look back now and smile.

    I had a rough childhood. I grew up in Mushin in the early 90s and was raised by a single mother. Up until her death in 2020, she claimed my father was dead. I suspect she didn’t really know where he was. 

    Dead people have grave sites, right? I learnt quickly to stop digging into my paternity. She wouldn’t say anything, and I had no choice but to let it go. 

    I was my mother’s only child and was mostly alone after school when she had to hustle for us to survive. My mum took on as many odd jobs as possible — from cleaning and washing to selling food at canteens. During the weekends, I’d join her to work wherever she was working that week. 

    When I finished secondary school in 2006, I knew we couldn’t afford university, so I put my efforts into hustling. 

    I got my first job as a salesgirl in an electronic store when I was 17. Not long after, I entered a rebellious phase. Most nights, I didn’t go home to the one-room apartment I shared with my mother, choosing to stay with friends instead. She didn’t bother too much about me. It was Mushin; everyone was pretty wild. Now, I wish she did.

    Around this time, I met my baby daddy, Kunle*. He owned an electronic store in the same market. And I started dating him, moving in with him almost immediately without my mother’s knowledge.

    Three months into our relationship, I was pregnant. Now my mother needed to know. He went with his brother to tell my mother he wanted to marry me. My mother couldn’t do anything because I was already independent and was now pregnant. There was no “marriage”. I just kept living with him till I had my son.

    And that’s when the trouble started.

    I couldn’t work anymore because I had to take care of my son, so Kunle took care of all our expenses. But he soon got frustrated — I’m not sure why — and started acting out and beating me at night. 

    My mother got wind of his abuse and made me return to our one-room with my son, so Kunle wouldn’t beat me to death. We stayed with her for about a year before she started grumbling about feeding and clothing us. I really don’t blame her. It was tough managing herself already without worrying about two extra mouths.

    By my son’s first birthday, my relationship with my mum was getting strained. I was open to other possibilities. So I listened to Kunle when he came back to beg me to return home with him. I figured he’d had enough time to change. Besides, I badly needed to leave my mum’s place. 

    I moved back in with Kunle in 2008 and was pregnant again within six months. When I was close to delivery, Kunle suggested I move back in with my mum to have my child so I’d have someone to take care of me, promising to send money regularly. I listened to him and went back to my mum’s. 

    Do you know this man sent money only once and then disappeared? He must have planned it for some time — I went to look for him at his shop some weeks after I had my second son and was told he’d packed out. I haven’t seen him since that time.

    There I was, a single mother of two at 20 years old. I wanted to die.


    RECOMMENDED: I Had an Abortion All by Myself at 16


    For weeks, I was in shock. I thought my life was over. My mum noticed I was battling depression and surprisingly stepped up. She encouraged me to focus on doing something with my life. She didn’t want me to continue the cycle she was in.

    With her watching the kids, I enrolled into a polytechnic in 2010. It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. I’d shuttle between school and use any available time to do anything I could to make money. I started doing hair and selling cheap data to support my fees and send money home to my mother since I mostly lived in school.

    God must’ve decided to show me mercy because one of my fellow students, also a hair client, carried my matter on her head. She didn’t know about my struggles or my kids — no one knew — but she noticed I was always hustling and would disturb me to follow her to the school fellowship.

    I eventually did one day in my second year, and my life changed. I gave my life to Christ and became fairly active in the fellowship. They had something called “indigene support”, which was financial support for struggling students, and I got the allowance with the help of my client-turned-friend. It was a lifeline and helped pay part of my tuition for the rest of the time I was in school.

    I also met the man I’d marry, George*,  at the fellowship. He was a senior friend of the fellowship — he graduated years before and only came to worship with us occasionally. I don’t know what he saw in me, but we became close friends in my final year. He even followed me to my mum’s house once. There, he met my kids but just assumed they were my siblings. It didn’t help that my kids weren’t used to me — I was hardly around — They knew I was their mum, but they called me Mimi, as my mother did, and called my mother, mummy. I didn’t see a reason to explain to George because I didn’t think it was important. Frankly, I just didn’t want to be judged.

    George was so good to me. So when he eventually told me of his feelings after I graduated in 2015, I was too scared to tell him the truth. I thought he’d run the other way, and I didn’t want to lose the only good thing that’d happened to me in a long time. I told my mother, and she also suggested keeping it to myself, since the children wouldn’t live with me.


    ALSO READ: My Mother Never Loved Me


    We got married that same year but didn’t have children immediately. George wasn’t worried about it, and never pressured me. But three years in, I started getting worried and made him visit the doctor with me. Maybe I shouldn’t have. 

    One of the first questions the doctor asked us was if I’d ever been pregnant. 

    I froze. 

    George didn’t notice and immediately answered no, but my conscience kept pricking me. It felt like God was telling me it was time to tell my husband the truth. I struggled with it for about a week before I mustered the courage to do it.

    I spoke to our pastor and his wife and told them about it. Then they called him to set up a meeting at our house. My husband thought they wanted to pray for us. 

    Soon as they arrived on the day we set, I went on my knees before my husband. He was extremely confused, but our pastor explained what I’d told him. I’d never seen my husband so disappointed. I was expecting anger, but nothing could have prepared me for the heartbreak I saw in his eyes. He didn’t utter a word for about an hour. Then he told me to stand up and that he’d forgiven me. I was shocked. Our pastor prayed for us and left.

    It wasn’t over, though. He didn’t talk to me or say anything about the revelation for weeks after that meeting. We greeted each other, ate together and slept on the same bed, but the tension was so thick I could touch it. 

    I begged and begged, but he said he needed time to process it. I could literally see my marriage falling apart, so I fasted and prayed like never before.

    One day, I knelt to beg him again, and this one did it. I eventually broke through to him. It was a long healing process, but I’m thankful we overcame it. He made sure we became closer with my sons and even insisted they move in with us when my mother died two years later in 2020. It was when they moved in I realised that they thought my husband didn’t want them around and made me abandon them with their grandmother.

    I’m still learning how to be a mother to them — I was practically absent for more than a decade of their lives — but George treats them like his own. I don’t know why I ever thought he wouldn’t accept them. He’s become closer to them than I might ever be, which warms my heart daily. Recently, I’ve started working with Christian single mothers to encourage them and share my testimony. Your life isn’t over simply because you made a mistake. 

    If I could have a happy ending regardless of my countless mistakes, you can too.


    *Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.


    GET TICKETS TO HERtitude 2023

    NEXT READ: My Husband Woke Up One Day and Decided to Join Politics

  • The #NairaLife Of A Project Manager Whose Investment Choice Is Artworks.

    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.

    Let’s start with the old memory of you that has money in it. 

    That will be my pocket money. I’m sure I was in JSS 1. My mum would give me ₦50 to school and tell me to bring back ₦30 change. Then whenever my dad was around, my dad would give me ₦100 and say, go and enjoy yourself. 

    This sounds familiar. 

    The problem with the ₦50 is that in my school, I could either buy a snack or a drink, never both. I also had to worry about boarding students who’d come ask me for money — I was a day student at the time. 

    There was one bully who even took my ₦30 change one time. When I got home, I got a serious beating. 

    Eishhh. Sorry. What was money like growing up though? 

    Hmm, money was a bit hard. My dad worked with the government — the security side of things — so he was hardly around. Funny thing is, I always thought there was money, haha. There was a time he travelled and didn’t come back for a really long time. 

    Woah. 

    My mum’s a doctor. She had to sell her stuff, starting with her car, and then she started a bunch of businesses to support the family. My mum had a salon, a tailoring shop and a business centre. She did her best to make us comfortable, but there were six children , and there’s only so much you can do. 

    When I got to uni — a private university — paying things like school fees was still a struggle. 

    When did you get into uni? 

    2003. I knew how to draw, so I started making art for money.

    Like, actual art? 

    Yep. I was making portraits and all. Itwasn’t much, but at least I didn’t have to ask for pocket money. 

    How would you say people were receiving your work, generally? 

    Ah well, there was some sort of showcase in school then. I showed up with everything I had, and I sold up to ₦100k worth of stuff that day. Big money at the time, hahaha. 

    What a wow. 

    Around that time, I was just learning everything I could. I learnt graphic design, basic web development and calligraphy. Any skill I had to make money. I even wrote letters for people with the calligraphy I learned. Then I started organising events to make more money. I think this whole experience shaped me because I’ve been independent for as long as I can remember. It also pushed my siblings too as they grew older. 

    It looks like heavy sacrifices were made. 

    I had things I really cared about doing but couldn’t because I have siblings, and I’m the oldest. By the time I left uni and started working, I was either saving for my events or saving for school fees. It pissed me off back then, but it had to be done. 

    I’m really curious about your dad, and the long absence. 

    At first, I thought it was just work, but he was absent for a long long while. He disappeared in 2012, and by 2014, I had to go look for him. When I eventually found him, he’d met a woman and gotten married. At some point in all of this, he had dementia. 

    Woah. 

    So, I have a step sister somewhere. Anyway, back to me. My first job was in 2009. It was at an events management company. I think my salary was 80k, and I remember this because there was one time I had to drop my entire salary to pay for a sibling’s school fees. I remember saying to myself that I didn’t want to have six children. The struggle to take care of them. Ah. 

    How did you survive? 

    Lucky me, I had a good boyfriend at the time. So for all the times I dropped my salary, he was always there to support me. He kept me going. Now, about my dad…

    About your dad.

    Thing is, he’d always been my hero. The strange thing is that my dad wanted us to get the best education, except he wasn’t there to pay for the good schools. I mean, he paid the first school fees for my education at a private university. But it was my mum that paid for the rest. There was one time I’d reached out to him for money, and he’d say, “Oh, I’ve sent it.” We didn’t have ATMs in school then, so you had to go through so much trouble to get to a bank. 

    I’d get to the bank and meet an empty account. Then I’d sit on the stairs of the bank and just cry. It happened so many times that I stopped going to the bank altogether. 

    Walk me through your job history over the past decade. 

    In one breath: I started at an events management company in 2009, earning ₦80k. One year later, I was earning ₦100k. Then I moved to an energy company in 2011 that paid ₦120k. The following year, I was at another company for ₦150k. 

    In all that time, I was doing corporate stationary for companies, and the average package was giving me up to 250k. I was helping people plan events and getting paid for that too. 

    By 2013, I worked for an international NGO as a project manager, and that paid me 400k. Then in 2015, pregnancy. That was tough. 

    How did you cope?  

    I wasn’t really active or going anywhere. My only support system was my mum and siblings. I couldn’t use my usual hospital because I couldn’t afford it at the time. It was crazy. My child’s dad asked me to choose between being with him or having a baby.

    Ehn? 

    If someone has to tell you to choose, there’s no point. So I chose the baby. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases, mostly for christmas and on birthdays. Anyway, I had two million in savings. When I moved back home to be with my family, I burned through all of it. We had bank issues at the time: my dad was defaulting on a loan and the house was collateral. We didn’t lose the house, but lawyers cost money. Maintaining the house cost money. Antenatal cost money. When I had my baby, I had to switch to baby food because I wasn’t producing enough milk — I was depressed. I didn’t get a job until seven months after I had my baby in 2016. 

    Getting a job post pregnancy helped a lot with stability. I work at a Media and Production company, and I’m still a Project Manager. Outside my 9-5, I’m juggling a few things, consulting for events and some talent management, and also selling gift items. I try to keep multiple streams of income. 

    I wonder how these experiences have shaped your overall perspective on money. 

    They say money doesn’t guarantee happiness. Omo, it’s a very good start. It brings a much needed kind of peace and when my people are happy, I am happy.

    Owning it is not a measurement of success for me, so I give as much as I can. 

    I’ve noticed that we can’t all make money the same way, so I focused on what I loved and spread it. 

    I don’t necessarily see millions in my account every month because the money I make goes out almost immediately. I don’t count my savings. In my head, it’s already paying for something lol. I just make sure I can take care of the things that matter and live each day.

    What’s your guilty pleasure?

    When I’m in a bad mood or having an emotional rollercoaster, I go restaurant hopping or buy myself a dress to feel better even if it means using up all the money I’ve just made. 

    This life na one. Let’s look into the rest of your expenses. 

    What’s something you wish you were better at?

    Documenting my finances and knowing what to invest in. 

    Do you have any investments currently? 

    I invest in art. You find established artists that have work spanning 20 years or works that have been to auction houses. If you buy from auctions, you then throw them back into auction houses in a few years. It would have increased in value. 

    There are some works now that, sadly, — when the artist passes away, the value increases. It’s safer to have art in your house than to have jewelry. You could literally have a painting on a wall, valued at a million dollars, and no one would know. 

    So, I just collect and keep. My oldest piece I collected was from seven years ago. My current private collection can’t be worth less than ₦5 million. 

    Some people just love art, not because of the value, but because of how it makes them feel. I’m keeping my own collection for my child. 

    Fascinating. Away from art, what’s a small purchase you made recently that significantly increased the quality of your life? 

    A microwave. I’m a workaholic and the microwave solves a lot of my problems. It warms my food, pops my corn, heats up drinks. 

    It pretty much makes my life warmer. 

    I felt that. 

    Haha! I can’t function without food or coffee, and it warms both. It can even make noodles. It’s very functional.

    When was the last time you felt really broke? 

    Broke-broke? Last year. We had a family incident that made us technically empty our bank accounts. I had to put a halt to my routine, hitch rides with my neighbour to work, cook from home and more. Then I had to work twice as hard to recoup and pay off loans for a few months.

    I think the moment for me was seeing my account balance at the final ₦4k, and knowing I had no money elsewhere. That used to be my Uber budget for a day, but I had to stretch it for a week. 

    On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness? 

    I’d say 6 sha. I remember when I used to sit and cry because I needed ₦500 to eat. Concoction rice with palm oil and Iru. I told myself I’d never ever put myself in a situation where I’d have to beg or cry. I’ve come a long way since then, but you’ll always want more regardless of what you have, especially if there are important things you need to do for yourself. 

    Random question. What’s that your ₦30 bully up to these days? 

    Oh, in 2019, she reached out randomly and invited me to her wedding. 

    Ah, how was it? 

    I didn’t go. 


    Click on the photo!
  • #NairaLife: “The Money Is Great, But The Job Is Boring”

    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.

    Tell me about your oldest memory of money.

    Hmm, I didn’t acknowledge the existence of money till I was in secondary school. Prior to that, whatever I needed was always provided. I’m not saying that this changed in secondary school, but there was a stark difference between what my mates had and what I had. When I got into secondary school, my mom started giving us money to spend during lunch break. ₦20. That could buy snacks, and that supplemented the food we took to school. I finished secondary in 2009, by the way. 

    What’s the first thing you ever did for money? 

    That’d be teaching at a JAMB lesson on Fridays and Saturdays. I was earning like ₦2k per class. I spent the rest of my weekdays interning at a Digital Agency. The agency didn’t pay though, but I needed the experience. I was in 300-level at the time. The only money I got there was when they gave me ₦20k after three months for being exceptional. I was so proud of the money, but what did I do with it? I gave everything to my mother, not that she needed it though. 

    NYSC was a gap year. I collected my ₦19,800, living stress-free. I graduated top of my class and garnered experience from internships, so I was just going with the flow. 

    Where I served, they paid us an accrued ₦5k/month allowance, which was paid at the end of the year. I also lived with a local politician who paid us ₦5k/month as an allowance. Ahhh, it was also election season. Come and see moneyyyy. ₦20k here, ₦25k there. NYSC also paid us to serve as polling officers. 

    Some corpers made up to ₦200k separate from the money NYSC paid them. Anyway, in 2016, about one month after my NYSC, I got a job. 

    Neat. How was it for the rest of your classmates? 

    Not many of us got jobs immediately. Very few, in fact. I would like to chalk it up to a good result, some work experience and being able to do some things to stand out, but it wasn’t that.

    So, maybe it’s good fate. When I came back from NYSC, my mum was telling everyone that her daughter had finished NYSC. A family friend of ours said her office was hiring a customer service person, and I jumped on it. I remember calling my mum to ask if the offer was good. The money was about 70k/month. They were deducting 4k for pensions and tax that they never paid. 

    Ah, that.

    Anyway, a year and a few months after — there was a promotion in between — I moved to another job. Towards the end of 2017. The new company was for a client support role in a startup. 

    How has your salary grown over the years? 

    My first salary was 230k, and I wanted to go crazy. 

    Hahaha. 

    After my probation, which lasted less than six months, it got increased to 260k — this was in 2018. By 2019, after a salary review, my net income became 330k. I’ve been on that since, plus other benefits. I get a transport allowance separate from my salary, about 30k, and airtime bonus. We should be getting hardship allowance though because the thing hard. 

    Tell me about the hardship part. 

    I don’t think I slept much in the first year. Anxiety attacks came whenever my phone started ringing or some particular numbers called. Kasala don burst be that! Also, a desk job leaves you sitting too much, add the fast pace, and you start to look for coping mechanisms. Mine was food. 

    Even though I had standard working hours, the work always went home with me. It got worse when we started working from home. Now, I’m trying to draw the line by not working outside my hours, resting, fighting off the guilt for resting. It’s working, and my health has improved. I need to be alive to eat my money, please. 

    Talking about eating your money, what eats yours? 

    Food. I might see things and give myself a reason not to buy them. But one food picture on Instagram, and kia kia, I’m ordering. 

    Okay, how about we break down your monthly expenses? 

    This is my most dreaded question because I’m not responsible with money at all. All I do is spend it. Is that not what money is for? 

    Hahaha. Let’s break it down. 

    I never finish the “rest” before the month ends sha, except those few months where I’m dashing people money or going out a lot.

    What’s your largest expense? 

    Rent, ₦200k a year. The gag is that I still live like a student. Early 2017, I started my Masters, moved to a hostel, and I haven’t looked back since. I’ll move out in 2021 though. My current space is a self-con, but I want to move to a mini-flat or two-bedroom apartment. 

    Looking at where your career is, how much do you feel like you should be earning?

    I don’t care much for the money. The money is great o, but I want to do something else. I’m extremely bored. It’s so routine now that I can do it in my sleep, although it does get interesting from time to time. 

    I want to do something that makes me giddy again. I’m that person. I need to derive joy from my work, and I don’t anymore. I’m ready to move. 

    Do you know what you want to do yet?

    After you’ve lived a life where moves fall into your lap, it becomes hard to figure things out. So I don’t think of your question in those terms. But I know I want to tell stories. 

    What’s something you want right now but can’t afford?

     A car for my mum. I can probably afford it, but it’d be extravagant.

    Sounds like a decent savings chest. 

    Hmm, is it really large enough? I have only about ₦2 million saved, plus small change here and there. I want to learn how to invest money. Truth is, I don’t even know how to spend money. Every month I’ll say I start my excel sheet, but I never start it. 

    What’s something you paid for recently that significantly improved the quality of your life?

    It’s definitely my meds. They come down to like  ₦8k a month. 

    What’s your greatest financial regret? 

    That I don’t have shares in Paystack. 

    Hahahaha. 

    I need to learn about investing. 

    What’s the most annoying expense that you have to pay for? 

    Skincare products. Ahhhhh. I started in 2020 during the lockdown, and I’ve spent about 100k on skincare products alone. I’m not going to count these other things as petty, but I’ll just go on to mention them. Self-care for me is making my hair, waxing, acrylic, pedicures. Gosh, I need a glucose guardian. I’m tired of being my own glucose guardian. 

    On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your financial happiness?

    6. I could be richer. I’m poor right now though I’m far from suffering. I need to be able to spend money without thinking about what else it could have gone to. 

    Is there something you wanted me to ask you but I didn’t? Something you’re itching to explore? 

    My attitude to money. I also want to tell you about how my mum beat my sisters and me for saving money when we were in secondary school. 

    Wait, what? 

    We just wanted to save. It was cool then, having kolo. We were putting money together till a later date when everyone could share it and do whatever they wanted with it. My aunt found the stash and reported us to our mum. She went berserk. 

    Ah. 

    I’ve repressed this memory so much. I don’t know why she went crazy. She encouraged my brothers to save when they were about our age though. There was a huge disparity between how we (girls) were raised and how the boys were raised in my house. It took my dad dying to shift perspectives. 

    Sorry about your loss. What did this disparity look like? 

    It’s evident in the way the youngest approaches stuff. He can ask for money without thinking twice about it. He actively saves for what he wants. I dunno if I can chalk it up to being Gen Z or the attitude of my mom towards money around him. 

    For the longest time after that, I didn’t know how to save. Money was meant for spending. The first time I actively saved was NYSC. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have pressing needs like that. 

    I’m realising that I’ve lived life so sheltered. How bad can things get? I don’t know. I’ve always had the basics and more.

    Interesting. 

    I don’t have the best relationship with money. I shy away from discussing it. I give it out often and had to learn to start saying no. I feel guilty for having it. I feel bad for not having more of it sometimes. 

    What doesn’t a healthy relationship with money mean to you? 

    I don’t even want to be billionaire rich. I just want to be comfortable enough to take care of myself and the people around me. Just like I grew up. My parents were not the richest but they gave me everything I needed. My mum still does. Not the extras, just all I needed and some.

    Quick one before we round up, how did your dad passing away affect finances? 

    First, his death was sudden. He was there, then he wasn’t. About insurance, I’m not sure she claimed it, if he had any. I’m not even sure she claimed the money in his bank account  

    We had to make a couple of changes. First, we renovated our house, and took on new tenants. We sold some things, and bought others. My mum had to cut off the extended family she was supporting to focus on the nuclear family. The burden rested solely on her. A lot of things changed sha, I know I wouldn’t still be in Nigeria if he didn’t pass away for example. 

    But you know how shit goes. It happens.


  • Thank God We Don’t Look Like What We’ve Been Through

    We want to know how young people become adults. The question we ask is “What’s your coming of age story?” Every Thursday, we’ll bring you the story one young Nigerian’s journey to adulthood and how it shaped them, in their own words.

    The woman in this story has a contagious energy. She’s 20 and figuring out life after university. Youth service is next but she doesn’t need a government program to acknowledge the work she’s put in for herself and those she loves. Adulting, for her, is blossoming against any odds.


    My mother used to say, ‘Just you wait, my girl, women will run this world.’ She’d mention powerful women who were kicking ass and taking names. Her favourite was Margaret Thatcher who she said I should aspire to: no-nonsense, practical, direct.

    I grew up as the fourth of five very playful children. My siblings were my best friends and Margaret Thatcher wasn’t anyone’s priority. We played different games: ice and water, policeman and thief etc. If it was cheesy, we were playing it.

    One of my earliest memories is laughing as my sisters and I tried to catch my brother who was playing Rambo, complete with the mandatory wrapper as a cape. I guess one reason we were close is that we didn’t really have anyone else to play with. There were only two houses on our street and we were separated from our neighbours by a huge barbed wire fence that is still taller than me.

    In 2005, when I was 6, we moved houses and changed schools. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by people including children my age who were not brought up in a strict Catholic household like ours. I heard Pidgin English for the first time and got teased for how good my English was. This new environment was foreign to me and like a hermit, I retreated. I found new friends in books. Book friends didn’t call you ‘skeleton’ or ‘orobo’ when you finally gained a little weight. If you can think of a story idea, I’ve probably read about it in some variation. 

    As a child, I admired my mother a lot. She might have shown me heroes in suits and positions of power, but if I ever looked up to anyone, it was her. She had to drop out of school because she got pregnant with my brother, and gave birth to all of us with only two years separating each one. She went back to school before she gave birth to my younger sister, and she joked that because she was pregnant, she couldn’t sleep, so she had to read. She gave birth to her days after her last exam paper. 

    Growing up, I didn’t have a master plan. I don’t imagine a lot of 10-year-olds do. Life was good and our finances were okay as far as my younger self knew. I was doing reasonably well in school too. I wanted to become a nurse, mainly because I was a bit sickly as a child and had been at the mercy of too many nurses to not be influenced in some way. Well, that all went down the drain.

    In 2010, my mother died, exactly a week after my 11th birthday. It had been a big deal, and till date, I feel guilty for being so happy just before the tragedy. I was with her in the hospital for a week before she died. I was the only one she took. She told me I was the strongest of us all; I still don’t know about that. The day before she died was a Sunday and I remember praying for her to just see the end of the next day. Call it childish, but somehow I believed that everything would be fine if she just made it to the end of Monday. I went to sleep on Sunday night and was shaken up to be told that she had died in the night.

    I grew up real quick. My dad lost his job and we were forced to live off his paltry severance pay for a while. Without my mum’s income to support, finances became a problem. Money became my primary motivation as it did for my siblings. I’ve promised myself that I will never struggle as hard as we did those years. We struggled and then gradually, silver linings showed.

    My brother and sister got into university and won scholarships. This took a lot of weight off everyone in the house. When I got into university in 2014, I knew I had to get one too.  I did and the next challenge was putting my head into my books so I could maintain my grades and keep the scholarship. I don’t like asking for money, and I can’t even imagine how life would have been like without that scholarship.

    Getting into school didn’t mean I was absolved of any money-making responsibilities. The first job I had was teaching biology and chemistry to secondary school students to prepare them for WAEC. This was in 2014. I remember that feeling of having my own hard earned money, not given, not loaned. It was a heady feeling.

    Now, I contribute substantially to housekeeping. I’m always happy when I do, and I’ll do everything in my power to ensure we never go back to the way things were. I send my younger sister money every other week. She’s living my dream and I’m proud of her. I want her to experience all the university thrills I never did because I was worried about money. She has it all, and she will have more if I have anything to say about it.

    Finishing university this year was a big deal for me. I’m 20 and everyone says I have my whole life ahead of me. Sometimes, it feels like so much has already happened. I know this is a new phase but the same old needs persist. 

    Adulting to me now means “Saving, investing and never running out of money.” I’m working on all three. On the more-human, less-mercenary side of life, my biggest inspiration is my older brother. For a while before we found our bearings, he had to shoulder the responsibility of  five of us, and yet he is so kind. He is my lesson: You don’t always have to be a reflection of the circumstances that raised you. When I finally complete this growing up thing, I want to be like him, wise and with an unending capacity for kindness.

    The world is mine for the taking, I know it. Now more than ever, women are demanding credit for the work they do. I’m benefiting from the hard work women of all ages did to make sure they are recognized. I don’t take this for granted. Would my mother be proud of me? God, I hope so. I know I’ve been slacking. It’s easier that way, coasting and being comfortable. She always said to put in my best and strive for excellence. I’ll do better.