₦airaland Forum

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This week’s What She Said is Modupe Ehirim, a 62-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about growing up in a close-knit family, choosing to marry rather than continue with her education in the UK and not knowing how to make friends until she was 50.

Let’s start from the beginning.
When I look back now, my parent’s relationship with the world and then with us formed a significant foundation for my life. My father lost his parents before he was 10, so he had to figure out life by himself. My mother’s parents left their hometown for Jos, so they were removed from their local culture. When my parents started a family in Lagos, they started a culture of their own.

What was the culture like?
In a nuclear family, you have to get on well because you only have your parents and siblings. I have four siblings, and if I reported any to my mum for offending me, she would hear me and my sibling out. She would show us how we both contributed to the problem.

I was encouraged to read. My mom would say books are good because if there’s anything you want to do, and you don’t know how to or can’t find somebody to show you how to, you’ll find it in a book. My parents also knew that they couldn’t give us what they didn’t have, so everytime we had an obstacle they didn’t have answers to, they told us to figure it out and come back with what we found to make further decisions.

Were there any downsides to this?
The only downside of being brought up so close-knit was that I didn’t know how to connect with people. So I didn’t have any close friends until I was about 50 years old.

What did you have?
Just people. In the 60s and 70s, I went to a primary school that was close to home in Surulere. Schools then were for the locality, so everybody in that school came from the area. It was so close-knit that, if you did something, the headmaster would call your name with the school loudspeaker and the community would scold you even before your parents did.

So what happened after primary school?
I was one of the first people to go to secondary school from Standard 4; it used to be up to Standard 6, which meant you spent 8 years in primary school. But the government wanted to see if six years of primary school education would hurt students, and I was one of the first set that tried it. I did the common entrance and passed, then I went to Queens School, Ibadan.

How did moving away from your home and community feel?
I’d never been with other people before in my life, but it helped that I came from the kind of home that I came from — though I missed home, I never forgot where I came from. I was overwhelmed by some of the things I saw.

Like what?
The first day I went into the dining hall, I was laughed at for not knowing how to use the cutlery. That made me feel bad. I looked at them and wondered what kind of people would treat someone that way. I was also much younger than my mates and very tall. Anytime we had an outing, we were always made to stand according to our height. By the time they counted, I almost always got left out.

Was any part of school good?
Oh yes. Everything else was good. School taught me to live with other people, and we learnt how to be responsible.

When it was time to go to university, as they dealt with most things in my life, my parents said, “Okay, you know what? We’re not knowledgeable in this area. Go find out how they’re doing it and then come tell us so we can look at it together and have a plan of action.” When I was filling my forms, I looked at the courses and looked at the subjects I liked. I didn’t like writing, I didn’t want history, bible knowledge, economics or any course that required you to write notes, but I loved maths and reading.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/what-she-said-i-almost-left-my-husband-because-he-was-an-unbeliever/

My sister died at 11.47 p.m. on Friday. I’m not sure what her last words were, but she must have probably called out for me, saying, “Mummy, don’t leave me.”

Mummy? I can tell that you’re a little confused. To understand why she used to call me mummy, we need to go back to the beginning.

***

4 years ago:
My sister was a vibrant, playful, four-year-old child. At least until the pain came. Young children in pain can’t fully express themselves with words because of their limited vocabulary. However, they show discomfort by either writhing in pain or becoming dull and withdrawn. In my sister’s case, it was the latter. She quickly became a shadow of herself; solemn and reclusive. Her withdrawal worsened so much that her dad, who’s actually my brother, had to beg me to take her to the hospital.

My first question was, “Where’s her mother?” to which he replied, “She abandoned me and ran off with another man.” — we’ll get to her uselessness later.

So, thus began our journey of doctors, syringes and repeated rounds of diagnostic tests.

***

Everyone who saw us at the hospital always asked: “Is she sick?” or “Is she visiting someone?” To which I smiled and responded, “She’s sick.” The next thing was for them to say: “How can a child this active and pain-free be sick. What’s wrong with her?” With a tight smile, I’d say: “Nephroblastoma“, pause, and add “a cancer of the kidneys.” The response would be a characteristic “Oh…”

Another question I always got was “Who’s she to you?” To which I’d reply, “my sister.” Since we were related by blood [her dad, my brother], I preferred calling her sister rather than my niece.

It took us six months before we got her diagnosis. In that period we had gone from one general hospital to another in Lagos before finally landing at the University of Ilorin Teaching Hospital. This change had required leaving my job in Lagos to take of her for six months in Ilorin. In that time frame, we experienced one major surgery, numerous rounds of chemotherapy, multiple blood transfusions, and various forms of brokeness.

Her dad would shuttle between Lagos and Ilorin and send money, grudgingly.

Her mother simply never showed up or called. The most effort she made was to send her sister to take a photo of the sick child.

My sister got tired of waiting for her mother to show up, and she started to say: “Iya Amirat [name of my sister’s immediate older sibling] didn’t come to see me, so she’s not my mummy. You’re my own mummy.”

This newfound bond made things tricky for me because she was always scared that I’d leave. She never let me out of her sight. She’d follow me if I had to go buy medicines, or even if I was going to the toilet. One time, she yanked off her drip because I was going to get medicine outside the hospital compound. She was definitely not letting her new mummy go so easily.

One thing that struck me about that period was that all the kids in the ward who had similar symptoms as my sister died. Some died while on admission, others, like my sister, died after a brief period of recovery. The doctors kept asking if we lived near a refuse or telecommunication mast or anything that might have predisposed her to the illness. To which I always answered, “No”. Then they’d scratch their head trying to figure out how best to help her.

The solution always came back to chemotherapy.

One round of treatment cost us ₦15,000. And she had to undergo treatment three times a week. This was minus treatment for some of the side effects of chemo, and minus the tests she had to take before starting chemo. Every treatment cycle involved her hair falling out, a bout of malaria, a lot of blood samples, and her dad complaining that he didn’t have money.

When her dad asked us to return to Lagos, I didn’t put up a fight. At that point, I was tired of his complaints and I was also tired from uprooting my life. That’s how we abandoned the treatment halfway to restart our lives in Lagos.

Things were going well until one year later when the illness returned. Before then, she had returned to her playful self. I had also been saving from my salary to finally attend University. Our fairy tale was shattered because the sickness came back with twice as much force. Her breathing was the first to struggle, then the pain came along.

Once again, we found ourselves back at the hospital from which we had run.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/life/i-paused-my-life-at-18-to-take-care-of-my-terminally-ill-sister/

The Bittersweet #Nairalife Of A Supply Chain Manager

In 2016, this subject made a difficult but necessary decision to move to Nigeria from the UK where she was born and raised. How long did it take her to find her feet in the country? About four years? What made all the difference? Linkedin.

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What’s your oldest memory of money?
That would be my pocket money when I was in primary school. It was about £2.5 every week. I was born and grew up in the UK. I don’t remember what I did with the money, but I knew to expect an allowance every week.

What was it like growing up in the UK?
I was taught independence very early on. By law, I was allowed to get a job at 16. So I always kind of knew that I would start making my own money at that age. I was motivated to get a job because I wanted to be able to buy all the things I couldn’t ask my parents for.

Haha. Do you remember your first job?
A weekend behind-the-counter job at an electronics store, and my pay was £4 per hour. At the end of each month, I was making around £400. That was good money for a 16-year-old. It also meant that I could make some of my own decisions and didn’t have to run everything by my parents. I did a couple of those kinds of jobs before I went to university.

What year was this?
2008. My parents wanted me to focus on my studies, and they put me on £250 per month. But I took a student loan from the government to pay my tuition.

Did you need to get it though?
I was trying to play it safe. My dad had just started a business and wasn’t working for a company at the time. His income wasn’t as regular. I didn’t want a situation where there was no money for tuition. A student loan promised stability. Interestingly, I don’t think my dad and I had that conversation. He’d relocated to Nigeria the previous year.

Anyway, I was getting about £4000 in student loans per term. My dad was paying rent, which was £1000. I definitely mismanaged money. After paying tuition, the rest of the money went into living large. I remember a time when my friend and I were buying hair attachments directly from Cambodia and spending like £1000 on weaves. Ask me where all of that hair is now?

Lmao. I have an idea what the answer to this question is.
I was always almost broke by the end of each term. But I could ask my parents, and they would happily send me £50-£100.

So after uni?
I graduated in 2012. I studied a finance-related course, and my dad wanted me to work in the finance industry. But I knew very early that I didn’t want to do that. When I was working those part-time retail jobs, I always thought that there must be a backend to everything that’s happening on the store floor. I did some research and found out that there’s a lot of different roles in retail. I had some experience, and I was like, “Okay, I’m going to work in the retail industry.”

I started actively job hunting in the summer of 2012. I applied to the big retailers in the UK and got so many rejection emails. Someone advised me to submit my CV to a recruitment agency. I did that, and they got back to me and went: “Your CV looks great. Can you start next week as contract staff at this retail company?” It was one of the biggest retailers in the UK. They had at least 3000 stores across the country at the time. Of course, I said yes. I started the job in September 2012.

What was your role and how much did it pay?
I was doing a lot of simple things — data entry and sending out orders to suppliers. £8.50 per hour and working for 36 hours a week. That was bringing in £1200 a month after tax. I liked the job and started asking questions about how to make it permanent. They had a graduate scheme for people who had left university. I applied for it, did the assessment, and I passed. By the end of that year, I’d moved from contract staff to permanent staff.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/naira-life/the-bittersweet-nairalife-of-a-supply-chain-manager/

The subject of today’s “A Week In The Life” is a medical house officer. House officers are freshly graduated doctors completing a one-year mandatory work program [called house job] for more hands-on experience. Our subject tells us about not getting enough sleep, being owed salaries and how the house job experience contributes to doctors leaving the country.

MONDAY:
The thing about being a house officer is that there’s no wake-up or sleep time — you need to be awake whenever the hospital calls you — continuously for one year. You have to find time in between work to get some sleep.

On a day like today where I managed to sleep before 12 a.m. and nobody called me through the night —which is rare — I wake up around 6 a.m. I pray for a bit. I check my phone to see if anyone from the hospital has called me, and I sigh in relief when I meet an empty screen.

I have my bath at 6:30 a.m., wear my clothes, and I’m off to the ward by 6:55 a.m. It takes me twenty minutes to get to the ward from the medical officers quarters, and I arrive at 7:15 a.m.

As the most junior doctor in the unit, I start my day by administering medications to all the patients — sometimes as many as 31 patients to one house officer — on the ward. In between, I have to clerk, document and ensure that no patient died over the night or is dying. I’m also somehow miraculously expected to do all these tasks before the “official” resumption time of 8 a.m.

On paper, ward rounds start at 8 a.m., but because nobody cares about the time of a house officer, the senior doctors stroll in whenever they want. Today, they arrive a few minutes to 9 a.m., and I’m put on secretary duty. My job during the round is to write down things like: “Patient seen.” “Carry out xx test.” “Patient doesn’t have money.”

After a while, I zone out.

It’s afternoon by the time we’re done with the rounds. It sucks, but I’ve been assigned one of the most ghetto tasks — mop ups. My bosses have left me to figure out how to run the tests the patients need. One patient needs an X-ray, another needs blood, and someone needs to see a specialist team.

My eyes are starting to turn, so I sneak off for lunch.

Post-Lunch: I ran some tests. Argued with a patient relative over buying of medications. Begged another patient’s relative to kindly run some tests. Survived.

It’s 6 p.m. when I finally catch a break. I can’t rest for long because it’s time to administer evening medications to the patients. It takes me an hour and thirty minutes. I leave the ward dragging my feet in search of dinner and maybe a shower or a nap. I’m barely at my quarters before I get a call from the Accident and Emergency unit— there’s a patient gasping for air. I grudgingly turn back. My long day is about to get even longer.

TUESDAY:
Theatre days are a whole new struggle. You have to go to the blood bank to “fight” for blood the night before major surgeries. Your job is to beg the scientist to keep at least two to three pints of blood for your patient. Then your Senior Registrar [SR] will call you at 4 a.m. to go to the blood bank and ensure that your patient’s blood is ready.

This is where it gets tricky.

You’ll hear either one of two things — your patient’s blood is ready or they gave out the blood overnight because of scarcity. If you hear the latter, that’s the beginning of your problems because your S.R is just going to shout at you for something that’s not your fault. If you’re lucky and you get blood, you move on to stage two, which is carrying the unit bag. This contains sutures and other equipment needed for surgery. If your village people are with you and you fall under the general surgery unit, your unit bag can be as heavy as a small adult.

I sincerely do not recommend.

The next step is to carry the bag to the theatre and prep your patient around 7 a.m. The surgery may not start until 10 – 11 a.m. and before it starts, it’s the house officers job to run around for whatever the patient needs or may be missing from the bag. During the surgery, your role is to run random errands like fetch heated normal saline or pass equipment.

Your role is to also get shouted at. Everybody shouts at you — from the porters to the nurses to your senior colleagues. The house officer is fair game for everyone’s frustrations.

After surgery, the house officer’s job consists of waiting in the recovery room to monitor the patient’s vitals every twenty minutes and relaying this information to your oga real-time. After about four hours, and if vitals are stable, you may then be either allowed to leave or ordered to wait until the patient is transferred to the ward. Unending problem everywhere.

I’ve come to a conclusion: house job is just one long year of similar stressful days repeated over and over again.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/hustle/everyone-shouts-at-you-an-exhausting-week-in-the-life-of-a-medical-house-officer/

The subject of this week’s What She Said is a 31-year-old Nigerian Muslim woman who got married at 23. She talks about realising she should have waited, getting a job years later and finally settling into her marriage.

How did it start?
I’d just finished my master’s, and I’d met a guy.

We had been talking for two years, and we were friends. One thing that keeps me going is that no one told me I had to get married, not even my parents. I wasn’t ready for it and didn’t know what I was getting into.

I should have been independent for a while. Looking back, I needed at least two years to figure out myself after my master’s. Getting a nice job, fending for myself would probably have taught me lessons I struggled with along the way.

So why did you get married?
For people like me, a lot of us were not educated on marriage, so it was an “if not, why not?” decision. What I thought would happen was, once I got married, I wouldn’t answer to my mum and dad anymore, I’d get a job, and life would just happen. I thought marriage was IT.

I got pregnant a month after I got married, and that did not help matters. I didn’t know what to expect. There’s no perfect partner, relationship or marriage, but there are some things that, if I was told to expect, would have made marriage easier for me. I tell people now that marriage can be sweet. For me, It was the foundation. It was not strong.

What are some things you’d have preferred you knew beforehand?
That marriage is a different ball game. I had so many responsibilities. There was someone expecting me to care for them, and I wasn’t even done caring for myself.

Tell me about the foundation.
Let me start from earlier. I had dated guys but there was always a religion barrier for me. I sort of knew that I could not take a Christian partner to my parents. There was also this cultural thing about wanting to marry from your tribe. Parents are more comfortable with that. When I dated a Muslim from Ibadan, no one told me to not marry him, but I was sure no one took our relationship seriously.

In my service year, I had an aunt who was introducing me to different guys, and she introduced my husband to me. When she sent his picture, I wasn’t impressed. We started chatting anyway, and I found him interesting. He made me laugh. We would chat and chat and chat. He was 31.

One day, a few months later, he said he going to Kwara State and I went, “Oh, I’m from Ilorin.” Then he mentioned it’s my family compound he was going to.

Knowing about his background made me more interested in him, and now, our families were involved. After that, he told me he wasn’t looking for a relationship; he was looking for a girl he could marry. I was like, finally, a Muslim guy from my town.

And then, marriage.
Yes. It’s possible if I had a year before getting pregnant, I would have gotten a job and we would have been able to live together without having to deal with hormones and stress and thinking.

If I could go back in time, I probably would have married someone who was like two years older than me. There were some conversations we’d have that used to annoy me. If I wanted to express myself, he’d think I’m arguing. He’d say, “Why are you arguing? I can be your brother; I can be your uncle.” And I’m like, “No, you can’t be. You’re my husband.”

Thankfully, we were friends, so even if we were fighting, we’d still check on each other.

Has this changed?
Yes. My marriage is good now because I said to myself, I’m not going to endure what I can enjoy. If I can’t enjoy it, I’d rather move on. There was a time where it felt like we were complete strangers. We were like housemates. Then it got to a certain point that I was like, “What am I doing?”

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/what-she-said-getting-a-job-saved-my-marriage/

1. Ore, 26, Lawyer
Salary: ₦480k

I earn more than my siblings and parents, and I try to send money home every month. Last year, this was between ₦50k and ₦100k. My other expenses were at a minimum — I was sharing an apartment and didn’t always eat out, so I saved a lot. The major thing I spent money on last year was my IQAS application, which cost about ₦80k.

However, things have changed. My family’s needs are increasing, and I’ve moved out to get my own apartment. There are also some additional expenses like visa application fees and registration fees for school — I got a scholarship, but it doesn’t cover these fees.

At the moment, I spend 30% of my income on rent, 20%-25% on family needs, and save 30%. My personal expenses take whatever is left.

I love my job and I know I’m privileged to earn this much in this country, but I don’t think I’m living a soft life. Beyond what I earn, it’s the ability to retain it. Also about having good savings and investments. I’m only managing now and not living a life of convenience. To get there, I’d need at least $2k monthly.

2. Uche, 28, Consultant
Salary: ₦450k

I work in a Big 4. My first salary was ₦150k, and it’s grown over the years to ₦450k. I live way below my means. I haven’t changed my car in forever or moved out to a new neighbourhood. The thing is, while a month’s salary can cover my annual rent, I spend a lot on my car because it’s kinda old.

However, I’m able to outsource more and eat out more often. But I’m not living a soft life. If I was spending everything I earn and not worrying about savings, investments, or black tax, then I’d be enjoying life. A few years ago, my family needed money to work on a capital-intensive project, and I took a ₦2m loan from a bank. I still pay ₦100k every month to offset that debt.

At the moment, a soft life for me means being able to afford a serviced apartment, fibre-optic internet, regular Sunday brunches, and vacation outside the country at least twice a year. I will need to earn at least ₦1m to afford that life.

3. Bambi, 28, Sales
Salary: >₦5.3m/year

I get my basic salary every month, which is ₦220k, but they pay me housing allowance in bulk once a year — ₦1.7m. Also, I get bonuses every quarter, and those are between ₦400k and ₦600k.

My monthly running expenses are under ₦50k, and I spend less than 10% of my earnings on rent. My life is good. I eat when I want and take care of my parents. I’ve not been broke for a long time, and I always have at least ₦500k in emergency funds. But my income is just not enough for the life I want. The value of the naira keeps depreciating. To travel anywhere decent, you need at least ₦1m. Nothing I earn in this country will give me a soft life. There’s a constant fear that I’m one emergency away from poverty. I’m always praying that my parents don’t fall sick or I don’t get a terminal illness. Even if I earn ₦10m, I still won’t feel very secure.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/8-nigerians-talk-living-on-%e2%82%a6300000-%e2%82%a6500000-a-month/

For some women, marriage is a source of joy and I wanted to tell their stories too so I made a call for Nigerian women to share with me the best thing about being married. Here’s what six of them had to say:

Kikelomo, 25, married for four years
My husband and I talked about my career plans before we got married, and he has supported me through it since then. He works 15 hours a day so I can focus on going to school, and taking care of our child. I am almost done with school and should start working to relieve him of the financial burden but I have plans to go to medical school in a few years time. When I told him about it, all he said was, “Okay, we should start working on it”. He’s willing to work more hours so I can go to medical school again!

I love being married to him because he gets me and he’s a huge supporter. If I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t be able to achieve my career goals because I would want to focus on earning to take care of myself. What we have allows me to dream and plan my future. When I asked him why he’s so supportive and he said, “A lot of men are successful because their wife sacrificed something. If I have to sacrifice for you to be successful, I will always do it.”

Deborah, 28, married for three years
For me, it’s a lot of things. One of my favourites is when I get frustrated looking for something and he starts searching all the places I could have left it in. We have children and being married to their dad means that there’s someone who knew me before marriage, who knows me now and understands the difference.

Another thing is when I’m doing something and I see him out of the corner of my eye, shirtless. I’m like wow, I can’t believe I get to Bleep that till I die. The icing on the cake is that my ass can never pass his front without him spanking me.

Dimma, 25, married for three months
I have strong anti-patriarchal views and I love that he understands me. Sometimes, I wake up at 3 am to stare at him and think to myself “MAN! I won in this life o.” Having a partner whose life is positively intertwined with mine is God’s gift to me. He really is the one for me — the tick to my tock!

Ibinabo, 49, married for 13 years.
I love that I have my best friend to share the good, bad and ugly parts of my life with. I especially love our silence the most.

Samira, 52, married for 26 years
Being married for as long as I have been, I know that things can come to threaten the balance of a home but the love we have suppresses every other thing. I love that we support each other with parenting. He is the best thing that happened to me.

Jolie, 34, married for two years
Honestly, the best thing for me is being warm at night. Knowing that when I am cold, there’s someone to hold.

The subject of today’s “A Week In The Life” is Jimoh Adamu, a 27-year-old bus driver. Jimoh tells us about the inspiration behind the famous quotes on his bus, how the Lagos state Keke ban set him back, and his quest for a better life.

MONDAY:
I wake up before my alarm. I set it for 5 a.m., but I’m up at 4:30 a.m. today. I freshen up. It’s almost 6 a.m. by the time I’m ready to leave the house. I do some preliminary checks on my bus — oil level, water and tyres. When I’m done I set out for my park at Ikeja. I live in Agege, and because of the hold up around that side, it takes me one hour to get to Ikeja.

There’s no parking space for all the buses at the park, so we’re loading in three’s. It’s not my turn to load so I go to a side street to call Opebi passengers for sole. As I’m calling passengers, I’m also using one eye to look out for Taskforce, LASTMA, Police, and the biggest werey of them all — Anti one way. If anti one way catch you, you don die be that. Thankfully, there’s no wahala before my bus gets filled up. I lock my door, and I do one go-come trip from Ikeja to Opebi.

As I drive back to the park, I see that it’s finally my turn to load passengers. Before I can join the queue, one faragon van has chanced me. My bus is korope, so I try to avoid wahala with anyone. I ask the faragon driver why he entered my front like that and he starts to shout “sho ya werey” and other curses.

I take a deep breath.

I don’t say a word. Mostly because I can’t be exchanging words with anyone. If I say something and he punches me, that’s a mess up for me. I just remind myself that this work is temporary, and it will end one day. I tell the other driver to load his passengers while I find somewhere to wait.

I can’t wait for this week to end. I’m already dreaming of all the sleep I’ll sleep on Sunday.

TUESDAY:
Transport business is hard, and this hardness always makes me think about my life. I’m thinking of how I started my career by doing labourer work carrying pon pon. Then I went to my daddy’s business of selling building materials. During my time there, I had one girlfriend and during our play I impregnated her. That was a wake-up call that I couldn’t raise a family on the money from selling building materials. So I carried all my savings of ₦200,000, and I asked my mummy to help me get a used Keke Maruwa. After some time of hustling with the Keke, I bought a brand new one for ₦600,000.

Not long after I started paying bills and taking care of my family, the Lagos State Governor banned Keke. The six months it took me to get a buyer for my Keke was the worst period of my life because I was just watching my savings go down. I became so broke that my mummy — who is 70 years old — started feeding me. I felt terrible in that period because I went from feeding her to being fed by her.

My mummy was so sad that she went to find someone to give me Korope on hire purchase so I could start work. After I got the bus, I went back to my old keke route. I had not worked for long before Taskforce arrested me three times in two weeks. The first time they collected ₦18,500, the second-time they collected ₦15,000, the third time ₦20,000+

I was frustrated.

I had to take loans to pay taskforce, so I couldn’t pay the bus owner for two weeks. The owner wanted to collect his bus but my mum went to beg him and promised that it wouldn’t happen again. At that point, I was ready to return the bus but I told myself to never give up, and that was the first thing I wrote in front of the bus. My mum then told me to be careful on the road because she could no longer afford to repay loan or beg if I got arrested by the task force. She reminded me to consider that she was the one now feeding me.

I felt bad for forgetting about her sacrifice. In that mood, I wrote “If your parents count on you, don’t play the same game as those who count on their parents. Remember you left home to feed home.” When Kekes came back on the road and ruined all my money plans with the Korope, I felt hurt. That’s when I wrote “Turn that hurt into hustle. Turn that pain into paper.”

The first time I caught myself thinking about my hustle, I wrote on my bus “Hopefully one-day real change will come because I believe everything in life is temporary.”

Reading those words on this kind of low mood day has given me some ginger. I know I will make it. I must make it.

WEDNESDAY:
I love my wife. In my head, she’s still that girl from when I was selling building materials. My wife doesn’t stress me and she’s very understanding. She understands that I’m paying ₦30,000 per week to the owner of the bus so there’s usually nothing left for flexing. She doesn’t say buy me this or buy me that because we are managing.

Our major expenses are food for the house and my son’s school fees. I still can’t believe that my son is four years old already. As soon as he grows older I know that driving a bus will no longer be able to cater for my expenses. I know because I’m currently still struggling to pay rent and raise the balance of my child’s school fees.

On the road today I’m just looking for a helper. Someone that can introduce me to anything legal that’ll be providing better money for me. A job that I know that if I hustle I can at least pay rent, send my child to school, and still give my mum money. I’m tired of working from 6 a.m to 7 p.m six days a week. I’m tired of leaving the house early, coming back home late and not spending enough time with my family. I’m tired of adult life.

But if I don’t show up, who will help me?

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/hustle/remember-you-left-home-to-feed-home-a-week-in-the-life-of-a-bus-driver/

The subject of this story works with small businesses. But before this, he tried to build two businesses from the ground up. The first one landed him in debt. The second one ended with some more dire consequences: legal troubles and debt.

https://p3y6v9e6.stackpathcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/zikoko/2021/03/INSTAGRAM_bLANK-1024x1024.jpg

What’s your oldest memory of money?
When I was about to finish secondary school, my dad was laid off at his investment banking job. My mum was also a banker, but she had been laid off years earlier and had moved on to other things.

Do you remember how this changed things?
The driver was the first to go when my dad lost his job. My dad started saying things like, “Let’s find a bike to take you to school.” Then it became hard to afford rent. My parents were building a house already, and we moved in although a lot of work hadn’t been done. We slept on the floor for a while.

My dad never found another job, so it was all on my mum. And she managed it well because the lack wasn’t evident from the outside.

What was the first thing you ever did for money?
ASUU went on strike when I was in 100 level in 2009, and I returned home. Unfortunately, it was one of those long ones. After spending a couple months at home, I grew restless and wanted to do something. The house help had left, and my mum was looking to fill the position. I told her I’d do it, but we had to sign an agreement. I didn’t think she would take me seriously, but she asked me to draw up the terms. She was impressed with my proposition and agreed to pay me ₦10k every month for my work.

LMAO. You got paid for what most of us did for free?
Yup. After two months of doing this, they called off the strike. When I was returning to school, she added ₦20k to my ₦10k allowance and told me that was my salary for the months I worked for her. I was like, “Oh, I can make money from anything?”

In school, a final year student who was a friend needed money for his project. I decided to loan him ₦15k for a month at a 10% interest rate. I pitched it to him, and he agreed. He returned the money plus interest at the end of the month. I felt if I could do it for one person, I might as well do it for 10 people.

Another friend wanted to buy a phone. I loaned him ₦15k and jacked the interest to 15%. He also returned it on time. I decided to go all in. I turned my room into an office and started telling people that I operate a short-term loan business. Students always needed money, so the word started spreading.

Mad oh.
There was a challenge though.

What was that?
Answering the risk question. The chance of students defaulting on loans was very high. But I made everyone who wanted a loan submit the original copy of their school receipt, and I held on to it until they returned my money. My client base started to grow. Now I needed to figure out how to get more capital, so I started putting my monthly ₦10k allowance into the business. Omo, I drank garri ehn.

Haha. But it picked up?
Yes, more than I expected. My model was referral based, and I only dealt with people who were recommended by someone I knew and still had at least one year to spend in school. By 300 level, I’d built some structure and started paying myself ₦5k as salary every month.

Haha.
But I also knew it wouldn’t be sustainable in the long run, especially since I was running everything with my personal resources. I split the business into two and started funding students who had small businesses. I gave them working capital, and at the end of an agreed period of time, we split the profits.

How did it work out?
Great! Before the end of my third year, I had disbursed over ₦100k to people and small businesses. Because I was running two businesses, I brought in someone as my partner to monitor the small businesses and ensure that I got all my money back.

People were noticing what I was doing, and my clout shot through the roof. The rich kids on campus started hitting me up and going, “I have this ₦200k I’m not using. What can you do with it?” I started investing money for people and giving them their capital and returns at the end of the semester. I did that until I left uni in 2013.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/naira-life/the-nairalife-of-crippling-debt/

fati2001:
no pic

how we go take know the person!

Bilabong:
No pictures?

Abi na ghost move?

LOL. This was an anonymous interview.

We spoke to 29-year-old Isabelle on how their obsession with dead bodies helps them cope with the grief of losing their mother four years ago. Read their story below:

Before my mother died, she had been sick for a while. Nobody knew what exactly was wrong with her, but the doctors suspected cancer. One day, she just fell very ill and had to be admitted to the hospital. At first, it was nothing serious. She even called me one morning while she was at the hospital and her voice was clear. So I figured it was just something mild and the admission was precautionary.

The day she died, my sister was the one who called to tell me. When I saw her call, I just knew the worst had happened. The call was brief. My sister said, “Our mother is dead”. I didn’t say a word. She asked me if I heard what she said. I said “Yes”. Then the call ended.

The next day, I woke up, bathed and went to work. I still had not processed what had happened. I hadn’t told anybody. The day kept passing listlessly, but towards the end of the workday, my boss asked me what was wrong and why my demeanour seemed off. And that was the first time I told anyone my mother had died.

I couldn’t finish what I was saying because I burst into tears. I think saying it out loud pushed me over the edge and made me realize that it had actually happened.

Up until that point, nobody close to me had ever died. So I was not quite prepared for grief. And the fact that I didn’t know what killed her made me mad. It still does. How can someone die in a hospital and you can’t tell what killed her?

I need the closure desperately, but I know deep down I’m never getting it. When you’ve never experienced grief like that and you lose someone close to you, it is indescribably jarring. It leaves a huge mental scar. It has totally changed who I am and how the rest of my life will pan out. Added to the fact that I didn’t get to spend the last moments of her life with her makes it all worse. I was her favorite, and I wasn’t even there when she died. She never got to see me one last time or anything.

When I went to see her at the mortuary, she looked like she was sleeping. As though she could wake up if I reached out and touched her. This is when my curiosity about death started to become a coping mechanism. It began with the smell of the chemicals used for embalming corpses.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/life/after-my-mother-died-i-became-obsessed-with-dead-bodies/

Today’s subject on Abroad Life took a holiday trip to Dubai in 2019 and decided to move there to start her life in 2020. She was 19 years old. She talks about the decision to move and settling down in a new country during COVID.

First things first, when did you decide to move to the UAE?
I came to Dubai on holiday in April 2019. I was 18. When I returned to Nigeria, I thought, “I can leave Nigeria and move to Dubai. I like it there.” So I got on my laptop and searched for jobs in Dubai. When I eventually found one, the process started well, but it didn’t end well so I let it go.

You were going to move to a different country at 18?
Yes. My mum absolutely loved the idea. She’s not the typical Nigerian mother. I was born in Nigeria, but we moved to the UK for a short while. When we got back to Nigeria, I was in primary 5. In JSS 2, we realised my school was terrible and decided to switch schools. My mum thought, “Why don’t we homeschool you?” and that’s what happened. I was homeschooled by my mum until I took my GCE as an external student. By that time, I was 15.

A few months later, I realised I was interested in photography. My aunt got me a camera, and we decided I wasn’t going to university.

Wow. What did you do after secondary school?
I went fully into photography for the next three years. After some time, I needed a change because I wasn’t getting clients anymore. I also knew I wanted to leave Nigeria. I thought about going to the US but it’s hard to just move to the US. Dubai was a better choice.

When did you finally leave Nigeria?
I didn’t stop searching for jobs, and in 2020, I finally found one. I packed my bags, said goodbye and left Nigeria with the little money I had saved. Because I was sure I was going to get the job and my employer would sponsor my work visa, I got a one-month visit visa instead of a three-month visa. Bad idea. By the time I had the interview, the lady who was going to hire me started changing her words and talking about how she couldn’t hire me because they were going through some stuff and she couldn’t sponsor my visa. It was super scary because I was running out of time.

What happened next?
One of the other companies I reached out to invited me for an interview. They were a wedding photography company, and they asked me to edit a picture. On a normal day, it would have taken me about an hour to edit that picture, but at that interview, it took me six hours. When I left, I knew I wasn’t going to get the job. I cried on the bus home. It was then I started getting scared about my visa status. I was also getting really broke. I thought I would already be earning at that point. I remember texting my mum and she told me everything was going to be okay.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/citizen/i-moved-to-dubai-at-19-for-photography-abroad-life/

1.Only Nigerian Millennials Can Finish This Musicians Quiz
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-only-nigerian-millennials-can-finish-this-musicians-quiz/

2.What Type Of Nigerian Twitter User Are You?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-what-type-of-nigerian-twitter-user-are-you/

3.Can You Score 7/11 On This Primary School Science Quiz?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-can-you-score-7-11-on-this-primary-school-science-quiz/

4.How Rich Is Your Soulmate?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-how-rich-is-your-soulmate/

5.Are You Japa Material?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-are-you-japa-material/

6.What Type Of Football Fan Are You?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-what-type-of-football-fan-are-you/

7.How Much Is Your Soul Worth?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-how-much-is-your-soul-worth/

8.Which Nigerian Food Seasoning Are You?
https://www.zikoko.com/life/general/quiz-which-nigerian-food-seasoning-are-you/

9.How Much Of A Famzer Are You?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-how-much-of-a-famzer-are-you/

10.Are You Addicted To Your Phone?
https://www.zikoko.com/quizzes/quiz-are-you-addicted-to-your-phone/

Gifting is a large part of relationships. Birthday, Valentine’s, relationship anniversary and other special dates are sometimes marked with gifts. But what happens when the relationship ends and your ex wants back their ‘gifts’? For this article, I spoke to 7 Nigerians who have collected things back and who have had things gifts collected.

Nonso.
I collected my basketball jersey back from my ex after we broke up. I felt she didn’t deserve to be with anything with my name on it. She could keep every other thing I got her but the jersey.

Blessing.
I was dating this guy, we were both coursemates at the time. So, I got him some things for his birthday. I think the whole package totalled about N45k. After a while, he started misbehaving. Was acting all indifferent and very cold. Long story short, he asked for a break up soon after. I said no p, but I calculated all the things I got for him and asked him to give me back my money. He did, and I used the money to spoil another guy I was eyeing at the time.

Uche.
I dated this lady for about six months. One day I got tickets to a show in Abuja, a regular ticket because that was what I could afford. She got mad and told me that I see her as a cheap girl. I told her she doesn’t appreciate what I do for her because it cost me money to get those tickets. Right there, she started comparing me to her friend’s boyfriend. At that point I had my fill; I told her that if she does not want to be with me, then she should break up rather than compare me, an entrepreneur, to someone who worked in a financial institution. She said that will be better.

I thought she was joking. Next thing, she yanked my durag off my head and removed my wristwatch. Both were gifts she got me on my birthday. A Tom Ford wristwatch that cost about N100K, and the durag that was in season because of the BBNaija trend. She said she invested a lot in those gifts and didn’t want me to have anything that belongs to her.

Tolani.
So this guy gave me a hoodie as a birthday present while we were dating. When we broke up, he called me to bring the hoodie because it was the only ash one he had. I kuku returned it.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/life/7-nigerians-talk-about-collecting-things-back-from-their-ex/

The subject of this week’s What She Said is a 23-year-old Nigerian woman who was in a toxic relationship with a man who did all he could to keep her with him, including stalking and blackmailing her.

Where did you meet?
It was December 2019, and I was 22 while he was 27. He’s my neighbour — we live in the same street. My aunt had a shop just in front of my house, and he used to come to the shop a lot. I personally didn’t notice him until, one day, I caught him staring at me.

I was going to buy suya, and he followed me. He picked up his pace and caught up with me. There was some small talk, he paid for my suya and bought me extra for my family. We exchanged numbers and that was pretty much it for that night.

Do you live with your aunt?
I don’t live with my aunt. My dad converted our security post into a shop to support her. So I see her everyday because of the shop.

What happened after he paid for your suya?
I think he called. I’m not sure. But we eventually started talking.

He was actually in a relationship at the time. I had heard tales about his babe, how she used to break things and stab him. I don’t believe all that anymore. I think they both got a thrill out of whatever their situation was, but from the outside, the girl was painted as a blood-sucking demon.

He made it seem like he was stuck in a helpless situation with his babe and didn’t know what to do. Like a foolish woman, I went to play messiah, telling him he deserved better. I should have just kept quiet and gone my way, but that’s basically what got us talking.

When did he break up with his babe?
A month or two later. I’m not the smartest with matters of my heart. So when he started preaching love to me, even though I was just out of a failed relationship and out of therapy, I went with the flow.

However, I told him I couldn’t date him if he was still with his girlfriend. He ended things with her in a very immature and impulsive way. This caused drama because the babe became FBI and found out he broke up with her for me. She threatened to Bleep me up.

For context, the babe was also close to my aunt. She felt my aunt pimped me out to him, even though my aunt really didn’t have anything to do with the relationship. She just gave me a few pats on my back.

I don’t know what he went to promise her, but she eventually cooled off.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/what-she-said-how-my-boyfriend-became-my-stalker/

In mainstream media, when people talk about exes, they are usually referring to the worst one. In a bid to balance that, we asked 7 Nigerian women to tell us about their favourite ex.

Abigail, 34
Let’s call her M. She was everything I wanted in a partner — honest, loving, ambitious, beautiful and smart. We dated for over three years and it was the best time of my life. We loved each other deeply. We even had plans to leave Nigeria, get married and start a family. Our friends called us their couple goals.

But life happened. I lost my dad and I don’t do grief well. I shut down – mentally and emotionally. I started acting out and stopped communicating my needs to her. She tried her best to understand but I guess, at some point, it became too much for her to handle, so she broke up with me. She set the standard for everyone I dated after her. It’s been 11 years since then and no other woman has come close. Because of this, I stopped dating women and went back into the closet.

Annabelle, 27
My relationship with my ex was amazing. This guy worshipped the ground I walked on. He always bought me gifts and cooked me food. He had my pictures around his house. I met his family and he met mine. One day we were arguing and he said, “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m getting married next month.”

Rese, 18
The last relationship I was in was my first serious relationship. It was also my ex’s first so we didn’t have enough dating experience. Everything went well until the end. I feel like I’m the reason we broke up but maybe that’s just my need to blame myself for everything. We both sucked at communication. Initially, I would tell her the things she did that annoyed me but she would do it again within two days. Towards the end, instead of talking to her about it, I would hold it in my mind and resentment started to build. It wasn’t the best decision because I snapped. I told her she was useless and ended a call we were on. We didn’t speak for seven months after that.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/7-nigerian-women-talk-about-their-best-ex/

Here's what the women said: https://www.nairaland.com/6410869/5-nigerian-women-share-why

Marriage is a big deal, no doubt. A few months ago, we spoke to a few Nigerian women who regret making the decision to commit their lives to one partner. We spoke with a few Nigerian men about the same issue. Here’s what they had to say.

1. Zayn
I didn’t envisage that getting married would have me spending this much money. I’ve been married for over four years now, and from my ₦720k salary, I spend over ₦100k every single week taking care of both my nuclear family and my wife’s nuclear family. I can’t even begin to tell you how unhappy all of that makes me.

2. David
I’ve been married for less than two years, but I’m constantly looking for ways out of this marriage. My wife is never happy with me. We never even have any meaningful conversations unless I’m about to do something for her.

I’ve tried coping with the lack of affection for almost two years now, but it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon. It also doesn’t help that she exhibits extremely poor physical hygiene; that makes it two things I’m struggling to cope with. If I had my way out of the marriage this minute, I’d take that chance.

3. Korede
I hate my wife. She makes me want to throw up. I hate how her vagina feels and I hate that she even looks at me. The only thing I like about our union is the kids. They look like me. Before we got married, she used to treat me like shit, but I assumed that after we got married, everything would change.

She was beautiful, so I just thought it’s that thing beautiful women do. The biggest mistake of my life was marrying her because she perceived the fact that I stuck with her, even when she treated me like shit, as desperation. Now, I want to step out one day and just disappear forever and start a new life, but I can’t do it because I don’t want to lose my kids. So, I guess I’m staying.

4. Chinedu
I got married at 27, but I feel like I was not thinking about myself and my future when I did it. I got married because it seemed like the right thing to do after being with my high school sweetheart for almost 10 years.

Now that we live together, everything appears normal but deep down there are so many character traits she has that I wish I could change. Maybe those character traits are not enough ground for a divorce, but they’re enough to reassess the whole essence of our marriage.

Another thing that makes me regret getting married is money. I’d totally be a baller if I had all my income to myself. But I have to share. At the end of the day though, my kids make it all worth it.

5. Mo
My wife and I have been separated for almost two years now. We dated for about five years before we got married, and at the beginning of our marriage, things went pretty well. When we started having our normal couple fights, I thought things were going to blow over, but they only got worse. The major source of my wife’s issues is her mum. My wife doesn’t have friends; the only person she’s close with is her mum. Her mum started giving her all sorts of terrible advice that only made things worse. The quarrels continued and then she started sleeping around.

Recently, she made me pay for couple’s counselling just so we can get things working for our child. Shortly before we were meant to have our first counselling session, I found out she was hopping around hotels in Lagos with a man married with three kids. I even foolishly called the guy and told him to back off my family. On the morning of our counselling session, I was at her house as early as 6:50 a.m. to pick her up. The other guy was there too. I lost my cool, and we somehow ended up at a police station where I had to sign an undertaking not to move near her or our child again — a restraining order. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I can’t see my child. In all of this, her mum champions her on and fully and openly supports everything she does, even the sleeping around.

Before all of this, I tried to get her a car. We went to a car dealership together and I told her to pick a car but she said she wanted the cash equivalent of whatever car she picked. But it’s not as if she had any plans to stay. She was just trying to extort me.

The only thing that keeps me going is the fact that I have a child with her.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/man/9-nigerian-men-share-why-they-regret-getting-married/

6 Nigerian women share their experiences trying to rent a space in Nigeria and how this age-long discrimination based on gender continues to work against them.

Kenny, 23
In June last year, I was house hunting around Ogun state for my NYSC. It was around the rural side of Ogun state so the houses are owned by old landlords. This landlord asked whether I’d be living alone? I said yes. He said he doesn’t rent his house to single women because they tend to invite different types of men to the house and he doesn’t want that. I mean single men do this too but I guess it’s not a problem for him. Even though I told him I was only staying for a year for my NYSC and not for a long time I still had to bring in my dad to sign as my guarantor before he rented the apartment out to me. That’s so misogynistic of the man but I guess that’s what being a single woman in Nigeria can do to you.

Jennifer, 28
When I moved to Imo state in 2019, I saw hell and heaven just because I was looking for a place to live. Landowners were always concerned that I was unmarried and they would often refuse to rent to me because of that. I had to stay in a room without a kitchen where I was sharing a toilet with almost five persons all because I was single. Last year, I was able to finally get a proper apartment that I like only because I involved a male colleague of mine who had to act as my boyfriend. This experience is so outdated because I can’t see how I will have the money to pay for what I want but can’t get it just because I’m single. I really hope people change this mentality because it’s exhausting. The funny thing is that the house owner lives abroad and doesn’t care about my single status but the caretaker made it an issue. The caretaker never gave me hope that I will get the house until this male colleague came into the picture. Now, he – the caretaker – knows the guy is not my boyfriend but can’t do anything about it because he says I’m one of his best tenants.

Ifeoma, 28
I’ve had a handful of experiences because I move a lot. My parents almost always have to be very present throughout the process. Even at that I’ve experienced push back when the landlord or agent realises I will be moving in without them. The experience that sticks out the most for me was the first time I was house hunting by myself in Abuja. I found a place I really liked and informed the agent I wanted to close on the house immediately. I filled the necessary forms and did an interview with the facility manager. I was waiting to receive payment details but they were always posting me. After a lot of pressure from me, the agent finally told me the Landlord has refused to rent to a woman because he didn’t want prostitutes in his property. Landlords will rent houses to Yahoo boys no questions asked but start doing 21 questions when a woman wants to rent and it’s very upsetting. In my current living situation, they had to reassure the owner I’m not a prostitute and send pictures to prove I’m responsible. I don’t even know what that means.

Simi, 29
So I live in my family house in Banana Island. I came from the U.K. to Lagos in February last year. I came with my son. Neither one of us has ever lived in Nigeria but I was ready to live on my own. So I started looking. The first issue was some agents wouldn’t even take me for viewings in ‘affluent’ areas once I said I was single. I got about 16 rejections, it was so upsetting. Then one day I saw a lovely place in Lekki phase 1 that was exactly what I was looking for in a house. I was given the offer letter and I made the payment which was in millions. I was even ready to pay half of the second year then I get a call asking me for another year’s rent to be paid immediately or we can’t go ahead. I was like huh? I can’t afford that. Where am I to get that kind of money from in less than 24hrs. Anyway, the agent called me and explained what had happened. Apparently, the landlord didn’t know anything about me until they sent the contract to him and he realised I wasn’t married. He was ‘concerned’ that I wouldn’t keep up with payments and that I would ‘wreck the property with sex parties’. Within hours and before I could even come back and say ok let me pay, they sent my money back. I was so upset. I cried. My experience here as a single mum has been horrific. So after that experience, I use either my male cousin or my cousin’s husband. So they call the agents and I go and view them as their ‘wife’. Although I think I may have just found the place I want to move to and I think they’re quite forward-thinking. They asked me if I was married and I accidentally said no and they didn’t seem bothered so fingers crossed.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/citizen/what-its-like-to-rent-in-nigeria-as-a-nigerian-woman/

The guy in this story has two things going on for him: developing new skills and taking a leap of faith. The ultimate gamechanger for him, though, is a tech hub he joined at uni and a DM he got in 2020.

https://p3y6v9e6.stackpathcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/zikoko/2021/02/INSTAGRAM_bLANK-6-1024x1024.jpg

What is your oldest memory of money?
My dad always did this thing for me and my siblings when we were growing up: at the end of each term, he would drive us with his motorcycle to a restaurant in the town we lived in to flex us. We would order yoghurt and meat pie, sometimes we threw ice cream into the mix. At other times, he would drive us to the zoo.

What did your dad do for a living?
He ran a computer business centre with my mum. At first, all they did was type and print documents for people. But it grew into a printing press. I should add that my dad has done everything — he used to be a barber and then an electrician. He still runs these businesses to date.

What was life like, though, growing up?
The family was never hungry. We could be broke, but food was always on the table. For me, though, my childhood was tough. My dad made sure of that. I was the first child, so he thought I needed to be raised with an iron fist. I spent most of my childhood learning how to be a man. My dad always bragged about how he was an employer at 18, so it was like I was competing against him.

I would wake up at 6 am, say the morning prayers, go to school. There were extra classes after school, and then I would head to the shop to handle the business. I started helping around with the smaller tasks, but as I grew, my responsibilities also grew. I think I started managing all aspects of the business when I was 16.

What was it like handing the family business at that age?
My job was to make sure everything ran smoothly: the computers, printers and generators. I also did the books and made sure the numbers were right. I was paid ₦5k per month, although the money didn’t come to me. It went to a trust fund my parents kept. Subsequently, my salary was increased to ₦7k, then 10k, then ₦15k.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/naira-life/the-remarkable-nairalife-of-a-design-rebel/

Mezie*, 32, and Oge*, 31, went from friends to lovers to friends who occasionally have sex. For today’s Love Life, they talk about being life partners even though they know they can never get back together.

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What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Mezie: It was at the national finals of a university competition. I was waiting to take the elevator in the hotel lobby, and when the doors opened, I saw her with her teammates. I noticed her because of her striking striped pants.

Oge: This was in 2009. I was repping my school, and he was repping his. A couple of us were going to get drinks at the end of the first day, and we somehow ended up in his room. According to him, I jumped on his bed and said, “Hi! How are you?”

I don’t remember doing that, but I don’t have an earlier memory, so let’s go with that.


What were your first impressions?
Oge: I can’t say he formed an impression that stuck at the competition, but we got to be Facebook friends after, and we just did not stop chatting. He is so intelligent, so we talked about everything, from philosophy to Igbo culture.

Mezie: Wow. Oge, so you’re saying when my team was beating yours, you weren’t looking at me? This was even before you came to my room. You were literally cutting me eye. Anyway, let’s leave that story.

For my first impression, I thought she was a bit too much. She was fun and bubbly, but it felt like she was trying to be the centre of attention. Then there was this other guy she was all over.

Oge: What? I wasn’t cutting you eyes, I was cutting eyes at the other Mezie — the one that looks like you. Then when I was looking for him on Facebook, I friended you instead. By the time I realised it was the wrong Mezie, we were already cool.

Mezie: Wow. This is the first time I’m hearing this. This interview is already bringing out the truth.


LMAO. Oops. So, when were feelings caught?
Oge: Somewhere in the middle of our Facebook conversations. I think people knew that we liked each other before we admitted it to ourselves. I was always commenting on his page, and he’d do the same.

Mezie: She used to comment on everything I did on Facebook, and that’s how I figured she liked me. I already knew that I liked her, but I didn’t know how to handle romantic situations at the time.

Oge: He still doesn’t.

Mezie: Ouch.


Who admitted to having feelings first?
Oge: He is going to say it’s him, but it’s a lie. It was around 2011. He moved to the north for NYSC, and I went to visit him. We made out a lot when I got there. As far as I’m concerned, that was me going, “Yo! I’m willing to risk my life just to see you.”

After that, he sent me an email that went, “I love you, and I hope it terrifies you as much as it terrifies me.”

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/life/love-life/love-life-were-no-longer-together-but-were-life-partners/

afelica:
nice story... her resilience is

Indeed!

In choosing a partner to date or marry, most people do not often consider food compatibility as much as they should. The stories these 8 people told me about food issues in their relationship are a mix of hilarious and ‘oh dear’, but after writing and reading, it made me think about the importance of knowing and understanding your partner’s food preferences.

Tunji
I like my yam thinly sliced while my girlfriend likes big chunks. And this, yam slices, was what caused our fight. She had a fit about it. She said it was an indication of how I don’t listen to her. How I don’t care. I apologized and started to cut my yams differently.

We broke up two years later. There were many reasons, but at the core of it was that one partner was less attentive.

Sarah.
My boyfriend is always undecided when it comes to food. The first time I asked him what he wanted to eat, his response was “I don’t know o, the men in my family have this thing where we’re always indecisive when it comes to picking food.”

I was silent for a few seconds. In my mind, I thought, “As per generational curse or?” Because frankly, I didn’t understand. The next thing he said was, “So what are we going to eat like this?”

I have learned to stop asking him that question.

Dolapo.
I love locust beans (iru). It’s what I grew up eating; my best stew is one that contains a lot of it. My boyfriend doesn’t like it. He loves beans, I don’t. The first time I cooked stew, he made a comment. “You eat a lot of iru oh.” I laughed, brushed it off as a normal compliment. But for the two days that we had the stew, I saw that he was forcing himself to eat it. Later, when we made a food timetable, he found a way to include beans into everything while locust beans was dropped. For the first 2/3 months, I had to manage the beans. He’d cook it, and I would eat very little with a lot of garri. He never noticed. I had to let go of iru even though it was something I love a lot. I only used it in okro, which was something we cooked once in a while. I picked up eating beans which was something I do not care so much for.

And there was the issue of my not eating much. Although I love to cook, so much that I even offer to cook for people, I don’t eat much. Sometimes, I eat once a day, and sometimes I can even forget to eat. I find it very stressful that we humans have to get our energy from eating. The result of this is that I find it hard to make food decisions. I can spend close to three hours trying to decide what to eat.

And now here’s the problem: I have ulcer, and I weigh about 50kg, so he always wanted me to eat three square meals even though I did not want to. He’d ask me what I wanted to eat and I would take a long time to decide. Or I could decide and then change my mind five minutes later. I eventually told him that putting the responsibility of deciding what to eat on me was a difficult situation to put me in.

We lived together for seven months before we broke up. There were a lot of reasons, but my indecisiveness about food and my refusal to eat was a large part of the problem.

Chidera.
We went out on a date to a place I’d never been. He’d been there lots of times, enough times to know what slaps on their menu and what didn’t. So, I asked him to order, and he settled for spaghetti Bolognese for the both of us. Now, here’s the problem: I’m the kind of girl who can have a full plate of food in front of me but would rather eat yours. It’s a love language.

When our spaghetti Bolognese was brought, I put my fork in his bowl and tried to eat from it, and he got so angry. I honestly couldn’t figure out why. That was not the first time I would be eating his food even though I had mine, so why was this one different?

You know what he did next? He pushed his food toward me and said I had to eat both. And I was like, What? I told him I couldn’t eat it, so he just left the bowl in front of him. He didn’t touch it until I finished eating mine. It was such an awkward, quiet date.

I tried to kiss him when we got home, but he said he’s still mad at me. And so, me too, I told him I still don’t understand the problem because it wasn’t the first time I would be eating his food. Here’s what he said: “All the other times you ate my food, we weren’t eating the same thing. I have a problem with the fact that we had the same plate of food and you still decided to eat mine. And not just anywhere, but in public.”

I never touched his food after that. And it’s very painful, because how do I show love?

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/chopist/8-nigerians-talk-about-food-issues-in-their-relationship/

This Abroad Life will leave you speechless. Today’s subject woke up one day and had to suddenly move to the USA. She talks about surviving on almost nothing, avoiding an arranged marriage, becoming a citizen and family drama.

Let’s start from the beginning. When did you move to the USA?
I moved here in 2009 for school. But that’s not the real beginning.

I’m listening.
You know those children that always got good grades and did everything right? That was me. My dad and my mum were separated and I lived with my mum. We didn’t have much money, so my dad was meant to be in charge of paying my fees. When I graduated from secondary school in 2004, I immediately applied to go to Babcock. I passed the Babcock exams and needed to pay an acceptance fee. When I told my dad, he gave excuses until Babcock deferred my admission to the next year because I couldn’t pay on time. In that same period, he bought a new Benz. There was a new woman in his life and he was being flashy.

Ouch.
I was hurt. My mum still jokes about how miserable I was and how I stayed in bed all day, crying myself to sleep. I decided I wasn’t going to depend on anybody for money again, so I went out and found a job at an events planning agency. I was 16, and the job paid ₦20,000. A lot of that money was going to transportation and feeding, and I was really stressed, so I quit.

The next year, I thought my dad was finally going to pay the fees — he said he was going to. This time, he just ghosted us. And so, I had to stay at home for another year. I got a job as a sales manager at a store in VGC and that’s what I did for the next year or so.

That’s tough.
I retreated and lost a lot of my esteem. The people I finished secondary school with were in their second and third years. I only kept in touch with about two of them because I was embarrassed the rest of them would laugh at me.

It was during my sales manager job that my mum’s mum called me one day and suggested I take the SATs. It was funny. I couldn’t afford Babcock. How did she want me to study abroad?

I took the test, got good grades, applied for scholarships and got them. I didn’t spend a penny for that entire process. Someone paid for the test, and someone gave me free books to study.

Then I got rejected for my visa two times. I had to defer my admissions from fall semester to spring semester and back to fall semester again just to make sure I didn’t lose them.

Wow.
If I was doing all of this on my own, I would have given up. But my mum is a very religious person; she kept saying stuff like, “God said you will go to America. Believe it.” On my third visa interview, she followed me to the embassy and stood outside. My situation hadn’t changed, so I was sure I wasn’t going to get the visa. The guy on my line had rejected everyone before me, but somehow he gave me the visa. When I went out and told my mum, she started rolling on the floor in the Lagos embassy. I wanted to enter the ground.

Hahaha. What happened next?
I decided to go to Lagos State University. I got in to study public administration and I was waiting to resume. I’d gotten the American visa, but it’s not as if we had money for the cost of living in the US or even a plane ticket. I had some money saved from my job. At least if I didn’t go to Babcock, I’d be a big girl in LASU.

Then my mum got a call from the United States one day. It was from a cousin she hadn’t spoken to in over 10 years. Let’s call her Aunty Bisi. Aunty Bisi said God laid it in her heart to bring one of my mum’s children to the US. She said she was willing to sponsor my visa and work through the entire process with us. When my mum told her I already had a visa and a college admission, she said, “Oh, so your child is coming to America but you didn’t tell me.” My mum told her I was going to LASU instead because we couldn’t afford America, they exchanged a few more pleasantries, and the call ended.

A few hours later, Aunty Bisi called again with one instruction: to get me to the airport as soon as possible, because my flight was leaving that night.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/citizen/i-went-from-earning-%E2%82%A620000-to-200000-abroad-life/

For many Nigerians, therapy is expensive and hard to access. This is because Nigeria suffers from treating mental health issues as exotic cultural concepts that don’t deserve to be paid more attention to or sufficiently invested in.

However, for some Nigerians, therapy has offered an alternate path to healing, but because bad things always happen, their experiences with therapy haven’t always been rosy. Below, five Nigerians share the worst therapy experiences they have gone through.

Celine, 24.
In 2018, during my service year, I had a meltdown in my office and a colleague of mine recommended I see another staff member who studied psychology and would often offer his services as a therapist to his coworkers. I went to see him that day, determined not to open up to him but he was so charming and kind that I eventually did. We bonded quickly and were always texting each other. About 3 months into our daily sessions where I would go to his office and we would talk, I went just before we closed and he offered to drop me at my destination. We talked all the way there and as soon as he parked, he held my hand and I quickly pulled away. He then said and I’ll never forget “why are you afraid of people being attracted to you?”, I couldn’t respond because I was freaked out so I got out of the car. He later apologized for the incident then went on to tell me how he felt about me over the weeks that followed. I was initially confused as to whether I should reciprocate his feelings because he was one of the few people who at that point in my life listened to me and cared about me so I didn’t want to lose him. I eventually told him I felt the same and we began seeing each other casually. I felt so guilty because he was married with kids but he would go on and on about how he was unhappy with his life and would leave his family if he could. This made me feel bad for him and so I stayed until one day in 2019 when I couldn’t take the guilt any longer. We had only kissed once by that time and I didn’t want it to go further. He left me a lot for a while then he popped back into my life at the beginning of 2020 with the guise of caring about my well-being and wanting to give me a present for my birthday. He gave me my present and asked that we hang out sometime. His gift was quite generous and I really thought he just wanted us to sit and talk. Long story short, he booked us a hotel room, we had sex, it was horrible and I felt so bad.

Emma, 23.
The first therapist I met with was supposed to administer a personality test and in one of the forms, I stated that I am a lesbian. The therapist went into this long lecture about how he’s not invalidating my identity, but he has noticed that children who grow up without a good father figure or who grew up in abusive households usually turn out gay and he’s not saying that that’s the reason for me but that’s what studies show and my history that I shared with him is showing that I also went through the same kind of things growing up and that’s why I’m a lesbian. I managed to survive that part and I went to see the second therapist whose only job was to give me my meds and ask if I’m okay. He asked if I had a boyfriend and I said I had a girlfriend. He then asked who the man in my relationship is. I told him there was no man since we’re both women then he proceeded to ask how I and my girlfriend have sex. I really just wanted to punch him in the face at that point. As if all of that wasn’t enough, at my last appointment at the Federal Neuropsychiatric Hospital, the therapist (a different one) asked who the man in my relationship is and kept insisting that there’s a man. Later on, he asked if I had ever thought of changing my sexuality (the first therapist asked this as well) and told me that we’ll talk about how to stop being gay in my next appointment. So basically conversion therapy. I don’t think I’m going back there.

Crystal, 22
The therapist was a psychologist and a psychiatrist at a public hospital. During my sessions, he disregarded an important fact that I had mania episodes. They were not often but were important in my story. We had three sessions and in that period, he touched me inappropriately twice. It was a kind of touch where you’re not sure if he crossed the line or if you’re just overreacting. It was definitely unprofessional and made me really uncomfortable. I decided to try a popular mental health NGO, that too was a total waste of time. The person I spoke with made me feel t like I was just stressing him. At some point, I had to pretend I was okay so it could end.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/life/general/4-nigerians-share-their-worst-therapy-experiences/

CookingPot:
Mine happened like this. I got the text message in the middle of the night around 2 am that I had been shortlisted for an interview
The message read thus

Congratulations, Application approved
Rc Con invite you for a CHAT with the MD on Saturday 13/11/20 by 10am, at


Had to travel from my town to another state after borrowing money for the trip and planning to give a testimony how I ended have a good job.

Omo ashey naa GNLD modification/Neo life.
I felt like slapping myself when I realized I should have searched for the information on Nairaland first before going to the park

Na wa o

The subject of this week’s What She Said is Karo Omu, a 29-year-old Nigerian woman and mother. She talks about almost having a miscarriage when she was five weeks pregnant, liking her daughter and the importance of giving women enough information about reproductive health.

Did you always know you wanted to have a child?
Yeah, but I don’t think I did consciously. I think when you’re a young girl, it’s normal to think that you would go on to start a family. I always thought I wanted many children, but I didn’t think about how I’d end up having them. I am from a big and close-knit family, so I wanted a big family too.

What was growing up like?
I have four sisters and a brother. My brother is the last child, so maybe my mum favoured him a little, but my dad was really big on his daughters. In our house, being a girl or a boy wasn’t that different. My mum had nine siblings; eight girls and one boy. Her mum really wanted a boy, and I think my mum was conscious of this — having a boy. My dad on the other hand came from a family with many girls and boys and was more progressive, so he didn’t seem to care.

So what was your pregnancy experience like?
I think before our generation, pregnancy seemed like a normal thing: you’d get pregnant and have a child. Nobody spent time speaking about the journey; instead, they talked about the labour. I found out really early about my pregnancy — in about the 2nd or 3rd week. I had two near miscarriages. I took a trip when I was five weeks pregnant, and on the flight, I noticed I was bleeding. I didn’t know flying wasn’t good for someone who was newly pregnant. As soon as I landed, I was taken to the airport clinic. I remember someone saying, “She’s in her first trimester, this happens all the time. It’s just tissue. If it’ll stay, it’ll stay.”

Wow.
I was like, what the hell is happening? I went back home in Nigeria and had a similar experience. I went to the hospital and the doctor did a test and told me that my body didn’t recognise I was pregnant, so it wasn’t producing hormones to take care of the baby growing inside me. I had to start taking hormone injections; I had never heard anybody speak about this. I couldn’t fly till I was past my first trimester.

The rest of my pregnancy was uneventful. But because of the anxiety I developed in my first trimester, I was always worried; I would wake up every day to see if my baby was moving. It got so crazy, I bought a heart monitor to listen to her heartbeat. That was something I wasn’t prepared for. When we talk about how people don’t talk about pregnancy, it’s mostly because everybody’s experience is so different that there’s almost nothing to go by.

Fair enough.
Yeah. I didn’t have a physically tough pregnancy, but it was mentally tough for me as I was in a different city by myself, with only my husband. It was really lonely not having my extended family around. My baby was overdue for over two weeks, and my mum was like, this has never happened in our family, it’s crazy. My pregnancy journey was long, enjoyable, beautiful, but I was mostly tired of being pregnant.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/what-she-said-motherhood-gets-so-overwhelming-it-becomes-your-identity/

Nigeria has an unemployment problem. According to a report published by the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria’s unemployment rate was 27% in Q2 2020. This is the perfect situation for the rise of job scams, which a lot of people have actually fallen victim to. I thought it might be good to find some Nigerians who have been to fake job interviews and talk to them about their experiences. A couple of people reached out to share their stories, and this is how it went.

Oluwaseun
In 2019, I got a DM on Instagram from a company, informing me that they had some open vacancies. I applied for the role of supervisor and sent in my CV. A few hours later, I got another DM and a text message from their representative, inviting me to an interview at an office in Ilupeju. I did little research and realised that a recruiting firm had an office there, so I thought it was legit.

I lied at work and took a day off. When I got there, I met four other people who had arrived before me. Before 10 am, the number had risen to 30. They took us in batches to their conference room to write an aptitude test. I guess I passed because I was directed to another room for the oral interview. My interviewer took interest immediately she saw my phone and MacBook. At the end of the interview, she told me to expect a call or text from them soon.

A few hours later, I got another text asking me to come in the following day. This time, they planted one of their people in the room where the candidates were. But everything he said was too good to be true. My suspicions were heightened when I met the director. First, her spoken English was off. Then, she asked for a ₦50k commitment fee.
The woman who showed interest in me the previous day was on my case to drop something, so I dropped ₦5k. They asked for a photocopy of my international passport and 2 passport photographs.

The next message I got from them told me that I’d been selected for the job, and the salary package was ₦400k per month. The text also stated that induction was the next step, and it included an address to a hotel in Ikeja. Something was off about the whole thing, so I searched for the woman’s name and their office address on Nairaland. The address was used by at least 20 fake companies. I realised that I’d been hoodwinked.

I decided to go to the bogus induction, so I took another day off at work, although my boss was irritated. When I got to the hotel, they asked us to order for Chapman, and I did.

I knew my money was gone, so I wasn’t shy to order food. By the time I left, I’d ordered three more glasses of Chapman and Chinese rice — everything was up to ₦20k. When they asked me to balance up my commitment fee, I told them I would need to use the ATM outside to withdraw the money and they sent a lady to go with me. I used an ATM card that had expired, and when it didn’t work, I told the lady that I would have to go into the bank. I had already ordered a ride, and I texted the driver to wait for me two buildings away from the hotel. Immediately I crossed to where my ride was, I got in told the driver to drive off.

Bridget
It was 2018, and I’d just finished my service year. I got a text message to interview for a job I didn’t remember applying to. I thought I had nothing to lose, so on the day of the interview, I dressed up in my Sunday best and hopped on a bus. The location of the interview was Onipanu in Lagos, and it took ages to get to the venue. When I finally did, I met about 10 staff members waiting at the place to welcome us. I thought that was weird. I was directed to the interview room and met a couple of applicants there too.

Shortly after I arrived, the rigmarole started. First, we were given a test. Then they introduced the members of staff at the company and their successful boss. Alarm bells started ringing in my head and I realised that it was a job scam. Their boss noticed how uninterested I was and made a snide comment about Doubting Thomases. Anyway, they asked us to pay ₦20k to register with their company and stuff, and they asked whoever didn’t believe them to leave.

Five people, including me, made a room to leave. The boss stopped me and asked for the price of my phone and said I could have used the money to start a business. That did not stop me, but they weren’t ready to give up either. They sent someone to call me back. WhenI got back inside, they tried to convince me in their shitty office that they were legit and I was going to make lots of money. My patience had run out, and I insulted all of them before I ran out. I noticed that the boss was following me, so I walked faster to meet up with the people I left with earlier.

That was the last time something like this happened to me. I know how to spot fake interviews now.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/money/5-nigerians-talk-about-their-fake-job-interview-experiences/

Being a first daughter in African homes is a different kind of pressure, responsibility and work. These twenty African women share what being a first daughter is like.

Anna, 22
From a young age, I was expected to take care of my siblings while receiving no care or attention from my parents at all. I was raised by help, uncles, and aunties which basically allowed them to molest me as a child. I was not protected or even considered by my parents, and when they were around they would punish me for the simplest of things. Even to this day, I get berated and emotionally abused for little things like not cooking. My brothers however get gentle treatment for stealing and committing fraud. There has been an inequality in patience, punishment, and love when it came to me and my brothers. That’s why as an adult I have started to neglect my parents and my brothers as they neglected me as a child. I make good money, but I don’t share and I don’t do anything for them because they never did anything for me.

Amaka, 31
Growing up as the first daughter and first child in my home is hard. I have to be the perfect example to my 4 younger siblings, and it’s exhausting. My dad is retired, my mom is a full-time housewife, and my younger siblings are in school. I earn so little, yet, I’m required to give up at least 60% of my salary to my family. I recently stopped giving my salary to my parents because I realised I have a life, and I should take care of myself first. I do not know if this is the biggest mistake I have made because my mom has not given me a breathing space ever since, and my siblings do not talk to me, especially my younger brother. They feel I earn so much, even though they know my current salary is N89,000 monthly. Sometimes, I just want to run away and never come back. My immediate younger brother and sister are in relationships, and my mom never fails to let me know this. She used to say that maybe I have a spiritual problem. I wish I was living far away from my family, but house rent in Lagos isn’t something I can afford. I Had surgery recently and had to reach out to a close friend to help sort my hospital bills. It’s not like my dad couldn’t pay, but he simply refused because I’m the first daughter and should be able to navigate through life on my own. He kept asking what I use my savings for, but I don’t even have savings in my life at the moment. I took a loan last year and I’m still trying to pay it off.

Beth, 19
My parents were horribly strict when I was growing up. I barely went out and did not go to any big parties or raves. They always forced me to go to church as early as them and also be involved in church activities. They freaked out at everything I did wrong, from the small things to the big things like liking a boy to talking to guys. They were very controlling, always wanting to know where I was, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with. They would ask for my friends’ full names and numbers as well as their parents before ever letting me out of the house. Now life is different because I fought them. I hated them for a long time, so once I left the country I just stopped talking to them all together and they hated that. I was very distant and hated being called by them.

Hafiza, 25
I remember as early as possible, anything I did my parents would remind me my younger sisters are watching so I had to be on my best behaviour. My upbringing was pretty strict compared to my younger ones. There are things that they’ll do that I’ll be scared to even try. Now everything I do in life I hear my dad’s voice in my head saying “you’re setting an example for your younger ones”. I’m trying to break from the fear, and am currently like 30% a rebel.

Yinka, 19
In a way, I’m jealous of my younger sister. She’s not under as much pressure as I am. She’s free to wear what she wants, talk to who she likes, and study what she wants. I didn’t have that luxury. I didn’t get a phone until I was in SS3 because they didn’t want me ‘distracted’. My sister on the other hand has learnt to demand her things. She’s getting an allowance when I was too scared to ask for money at her age. I’m learning assertiveness from her.

Cynthia, 21
Some days are easy, some days are hard. I’m not just the first daughter, I’m also the firstborn. I have 5 younger siblings under me so there’s a lot of pressure. Everyone is looking up to me and sometimes I wish I was born last. There are so many things that don’t come naturally to me, but everyone expects me to do it. I’m an excellent cook, but I don’t love cooking. In fact, I hate the kitchen. My parents always try to remind me that as a woman, I should always be there, but that’s not me. These people also expect me to get a Masters degree and a Ph.D. I will complete my Bsc and maybe get a Masters, but not a Ph.D. Everybody wants me to graduate fast so I can get a job and start taking part in the bills. Some days, I just don’t care about all these and do the things I want to do. After all, I won’t be with them forever.

Samantha, 24
Life as a first daughter means you are an experiment. Every day you’re reminded of what and what not to do because of the “husband’s house”. My siblings can get away with making grave mistakes but I make smaller ones and my head is almost cut off. You’re extra responsible for the younger ones because you’re constantly reminded that you’re going to be their parent when your parents are gone. I love my family members to death, but I could do with a lot less stress.

Evelyn, 25
Being a first daughter means being a third parent to your siblings, whether you want it or not. If your parents work full time, you become their caregiver as well. I have 5 brothers all still under 13, and though I love them and would do anything for them, it feels like I spent my entire life taking care of kids. I’ve been a babysitter, nanny, cook, cleaner, and everything in between. I’m now convinced I do not want kids, as I’ve done my fair share of child-raising and have none left in me. My parents think it’s your duty, that since they took care of me I should take care of my siblings.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/20-african-women-share-what-life-as-a-first-daughter-is-like/

As told to Zikoko

Meeting my ex-husband, Tosin* was the most random thing.

It was 2008. He called my line and opened with, “Hi! Can I get to know you?” I asked how he got my number, but he couldn’t give me an answer, so I ended the call. He kept calling. Sometimes I would pick, and we would do the same dance — “How did you get my number?” “I don’t remember.” “Goodbye.” This went on for weeks.

One day, I was on leave and bored at home, so when he called, I didn’t hang up. We had a long conversation. We discovered we are from the same state and I went to secondary school with his siblings. That got me curious. I wanted to meet him.

I suggested we go out for drinks, but he said he wanted to come to my house instead. I refused and insisted on a public place. When he saw me, the first thing he said was, “I don’t like how your hair is uncovered as my future wife.”

I don’t remember what my response was, but I know we didn’t have drinks that day anymore. We had drinks two days later.

Some days later, I was at home when Tosin called that his mum would like to talk to me. I spoke to her, and shortly after, she sent me some gifts. I didn’t think much of it. One day, my dad asked when I was bringing my husband home. I said I didn’t know when, but I was talking to someone.

When I told him about Tosin, it turned out he and my mum already knew his family. My dad said I should invite him to the house. I did, and we had lunch with my dad. They talked. I was indifferent about the whole thing.

My leave ended and I went back to work, which was out of town. After a few weeks, I called my mum and there were drumming sounds in the background. I asked what was going on, and she said, “Your husband’s people came.” I was like, “Which husband? I never introduced anybody to you as my husband.” My dad said, “You shouldn’t have invited him for lunch if you didn’t want to marry him. They came with a letter, and we have responded. The next thing is to agree on a date for the solemnisation.”

I was 22 at the time. I had never actively thought about marriage before then, but I knew it was expected of me. It didn’t seem like a bad idea if it would get my parents off my back and possibly make them happy.

But you see, marriage was nothing like I expected it to be. First of all, I lost my freedom. I used to wear tiny dresses and skirts, but when I got married, I had to cover my hair. Even though I am a Muslim, I hated that shit. I loved travelling, but marriage meant I had to take permission for my trips. Sometimes, he would make me feel bad for even going at all. I had to give up everything that made me myself to be acceptable to everyone — my partner, my parents, my in-laws.

I think I was too young. Tosin was six years older than me. I didn’t centre my needs in making the decision to be married. If I had, I would have chosen better. Before I knew it, kids started coming into the equation. The first child was born in the first year, the second child was born in the third year and in the seventh year, we adopted the third. I think the kids made the ten years we spent married bearable. Tosin and I had nothing in common, but we were able to bond over caring for the children.

Continue: https://www.zikoko.com/her/i-got-pressured-into-a-marriage-that-stole-10-years-of-my-life/