Boluwatife Oni, Author at ��è��Ƶ!

Love Currency: “He Thinks Women Shouldn’t Work, but I Can Change Him”

Boluwatife Oni — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 07:49:27 +0000

The topic of how young Nigerians navigate romantic relationships with their earnings is a minefield of hot takes. In��Love Currency, we get into what relationships across income brackets look like in different cities.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship?��If yes,��.

How long have you been with your partner?

David and I started dating around the end of January, so we’ve been together for about five months.

How did you meet?

We met at my office in 2025. He’s a major supplier of electronic gadgets and occasionally does business with my boss. He started asking me out since the first time we met.

He was always telling me he liked me, asking for my number so we could “get to know each other” every time he came to our office. He’d also drop cash, sometimes up to ₦50k, for me and my two female colleagues to “do weekend.”

I didn’t take him seriously at first. Maybe it was because of how quickly he came on to me. I just assumed he was the kind of man who loved to chase women. The constant spending didn’t help either. It felt like he liked trying to impress women, and I was definitely not impressed.

What changed your mind?

After months of his pestering, my colleague noticed and convinced me to give him a chance. We went to the cinema, then went to his house after the movie, and he ordered food.

When the food came, he dished it out and served me. That seems like a small detail, but I thought it was sweet. I’ve dated men who expected me to cook for them the first time I visited, but David served me and did the dishes after. He didn’t allow me to lift a finger. I felt valued.

We talked regularly after that, and I enjoyed his company. He was also very intentional. He’d randomly order food to the office for me. One time, he sent me ₦5k airtime because, according to him, I wasn’t calling him enough and he always wanted to hear my voice. I’m not even sure exactly when we transitioned to dating. We just went from me doing shakara to constantly talking and then calling each other cute pet names.

So, what has five-ish months of dating been like?

It’s been really interesting. Being with David has helped me become a better version of myself. I used to be really quick to judge people and lose my temper, but he’s teaching me the importance of patience.

He’s also really generous. I used to be dependent on loan apps, because to be honest, a ₦120k salary in Lagos is nothing. But I can’t remember the last time I had to take a loan because he’s randomly sending me money. In a month, I get up to ₦100k from him. For someone like me, who struggles to ask their partner for money, it’s like living in a dream.

�ճ��is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.��Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.��.

Is it safe to assume you’re both transparent with your finances?

Well, he knows how much I earn because I told him — it came up when I was complaining to him about being broke — but I don’t have a clear sense of his finances. I know he clearly has money, but that’s about it. I don’t think that’s a big deal, though. I can’t be asking him how much he has or anything like that.

What kind of money conversations do you and David have?

It’s mostly him helping my life, haha. Though recently, we’ve been talking, more like arguing, about how an ideal marriage should run.

We were discussing a movie we saw together when David revealed that he doesn’t believe married women should work. I thought he was joking, but he was really serious about it, saying stuff like, “God forbid my wife will work for anyone.” And he didn’t even limit it to office work. Whether it’s running a business or working in an office, he said he doesn’t want either.

I don’t share the same sentiment. I can’t imagine not working and depending completely on my husband to buy ordinary pads. We had a long argument about it before I dropped it, so that peace could reign. I’ve brought the matter up a few more times since then, but he still stands firmly on his stance.

Did he say why he’s against married women working?

He gave several reasons which don’t make sense. He said women who work are more likely to cheat because they’re always meeting men. When I pointed out that he wouldn’t have met me if I weren’t working, he said I was proving his point. That what would stop other men from chasing me too? No matter how many times I said that a man chasing a woman doesn’t mean she’ll accept the advances, he refused to change his belief.

He also says he’s a traditional man who believes in providing for his woman. When I argued that taking care of a woman doesn’t mean she shouldn’t work, he was like, “How much is your salary sef? I can pay you double, What do you need work for?”

Another one of his claims is that working women don’t respect their husbands. I pointed out that I already respect him, but he painted a scenario of how wives use stress from work as an excuse not to want to cook or have sex with their husbands. It’s like every argument I bring, he’s ready with a counterargument.

Hmmm. Is his stance against work a deal-breaker for you?

I’d say it’s something I really want to change. I don’t want to marry someone who shares this belief because I know how important financial independence is for every woman. My aunt saw shege in her marriage because of this same issue. The only difference was that her husband wasn’t rich, but he still didn’t want her to work. I don’t want to suffer like that.

On the other hand, I love David. I think, with time, I can show him that he doesn’t need to worry about me changing or stressing him after marriage. So, it would be a deal-breaker for me if, after more time together, he still has this mindset. But I think I can change him.

I know that statement is problematic. Can someone really change a man? Sometimes I wonder if I should just cut my losses and move on from the relationship. But I think I should at least try, right? I’ll just need to be wise about it and try to gradually change his mindset.

All the best. How do dating expenses like dates and gifts work in your relationship?

David isn’t the going-on-dates type, and the gifts are mostly monetary. For Valentine’s Day, he bought me a wig and some clothes. I gifted him my presence, haha. Now that I think about it, I haven’t bought him a gift yet. I should do better.

Do you both have financial safety nets?

I only just started regularly saving last month. Right now, I have just ₦50k saved. I’m not sure if David has savings, but I expect he should.

What’s the ideal financial future you’d like for you and David?

I’d like for both of us to co-own a successful chain of businesses one day. Of course, I’d have to get him to agree to allowing me to work first for that to happen.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, .

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ:��My Mother-in-Law Is a Financial Burden, but I Can’t Admit It

#NairaLife: The Frugal Investor Who’s Making Sure She’s Never at Anyone’s Mercy Again

Boluwatife Oni — Mon, 29 Jun 2026 07:00:00 +0000

Every week,��è��Ƶ seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

What’s your earliest memory of money?

When I was in Primary 3 or 4, my sister proposed that we sell knitted purses. I knew how to knit; she didn’t. So the idea was that I would bring my skill, and she would bring the financial resources. After sales, we would split the profit.

I can’t remember how much she “invested,” but the materials wouldn’t have cost much. I knitted small purses, and we sold them to our friends for ₦30, ₦50, or ₦100, depending on the size.

We ran the business for about three to six months until people started buying on credit. They’d say, “I’ll buy now and pay when I collect snacks money from my mummy.” Then they’d pay ₦5 today and ₦10 tomorrow. The money was scattered, and we couldn’t keep track of it, so the business folded.

Do you remember what you did with the money?

I think we saved most of it. We didn’t do the business to survive; we just wanted the thrill of having our own money.

At the time, we were financially comfortable at home. My dad worked in Cotonou, where he made money from supplying baking flour to companies, while my mum coordinated ajo (daily savings contributions) for market people. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, but we weren’t struggling. At least, until things changed.

What happened?

You know how it goes: one bad business move or decision sends everything crashing down. My dad’s business collapsed. They tried to manage the situation for the first four or five years, so we kids didn’t really notice, but it became overwhelming.

The first shift was that my siblings and I had to change schools. By 2013, I had completed SS 2 in Lagos, but things were so tight that my parents couldn’t afford my WAEC fees. I was sent to live with my uncle in Abuja to finish secondary school. Nobody told me that I’d have to repeat a class, but I had to take SS 2 all over again.

How was Abuja?

It was a toxic environment. I grew up in a soft home where I wasn’t hit or unnecessarily shouted at. On the day I wrote my WAEC Mathematics exam, my uncle’s wife deliberately didn’t drive me to school until 11:30 a.m., even though the exam started at 9:30 a.m. I barely had time to write anything.

Unsurprisingly, I got an F9 in Maths. I didn’t even stay to write NECO; I just left and returned to Lagos in 2015. I ended up spending eight years in secondary school due to situations beyond my control. My mum still regrets making me go to Abuja to this day.

What did you meet when you returned to Lagos?

My parents had already made the hard decision to relocate back to our village in the East. It was just my younger sister and brother left in the house, wrapping up the final stages of the move.

My sister was working at an eatery in a car park to raise money. Eatery is even a stretch; the owner just sold food there. Anyway, I joined my sister immediately because we needed to survive.

What was the job like?

We would go into the car park in the morning to scout for customers, take their food orders, bring them their food, and do the accounting at the end of the day.

My daily pay was ₦500. My sister earned ₦1,000 a day because the owner had a past relationship with our mum and wanted to give back. We worked Monday to Saturday, and the eatery covered our breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We did that for about two months before joining our parents in the East.

What was the situation like back in the village?

Things actually picked up a bit after we joined our parents. My dad travelled to the North with his cousin for business, and my mum started a new trade.

Since I had to rewrite WAEC in 2016, I didn’t get university admission immediately. I opted for a polytechnic instead, starting my National Diploma (ND) in January 2017.

How were you surviving financially in school?

My parents handled my major expenses like rent and foodstuff, and I could always call home whenever I needed money.

Also, whenever I went home during school holidays, I supported them by working on the farm. I’m selectively lazy, but I knew if I didn’t help, there would be no foodstuff to take back to school. We also had fruit trees in our compound, and sometimes I’d pluck and sell the fruit to buyers for extra money.

I survived like that till I graduated from the polytechnic in November 2018.

What came next?

I returned to Lagos in April 2019. The plan was to do my one-year IT, then go back to school for my HND. But I couldn’t get a job; I only got offered salesgirl roles that paid ₦20k/month in Computer Village. My sister, with whom I was living, insisted I shouldn’t take anything less than ₦25k.

So, I stayed unemployed throughout 2019. I survived on random cash gifts from friends who would call to check on me and ask for my account number. My sister was also working, so I didn’t feel the full weight, but there’s really nothing like having your own income.

I get it. When did you finally get your own?

In January 2020, I got a job at a travel agency in Computer Village. It was an office-standard, Monday-to-Friday role. The base pay was ₦25k/month. I was just happy to leave the house. My job description was basically to open the office daily, keep the space tidy and route customer inquiries to my boss.

Then COVID hit, and the travel industry took a massive blow. People weren’t buying tickets or going anywhere. The first month of lockdown, I got a 50% salary cut. The second month, I was only paid 40%. By August, my boss told me to take the month off without pay while she figured out what to do with the business.

Did she bring you back?

Yes, at the end of August, she asked if I’d like to come to our Ikoyi office and learn graphic design so I could manage the company’s social media. I agreed.

She kept my official salary at ₦25k but started giving me an extra ₦20k mid-month, bringing it to ₦45k. Then, in January 2021, I started shuttling between the Ikoyi and Ikeja offices on the same ₦45k/month. I did that until I left in October 2022.

Looking back, I really suffered. I don’t know how I survived transport and bills in Lagos on ₦45k. Surprisingly, I was still able to save regularly from that income.

Really?

Even when I was earning ₦25k, I saved ₦5k every month. When my salary increased to ₦45k, I automated my savings and put away ₦2,500 every week.

At one point, I noticed my account wouldn’t always have money on the exact day of the automated debit, meaning I was missing my targets. So I changed strategy: I’d count the number of Mondays in that month, multiply it by ₦2,500, and do a bulk manual transfer the moment my salary dropped. I saved ₦10k or ₦12,500 monthly for a full year.

I never missed my savings. Keep in mind that my sister and I were also splitting rent and utilities at home without any issues.

Were you saving towards a specific goal?

I just never wanted to be at anyone’s mercy again. I saw what dependency did to my parents, and I remembered being stuck in Abuja repeating a class.

I told myself that if I ever have a ₦500k emergency, it’s better that I have ₦300k down and look for ₦200k, rather than looking for the whole ₦500k from scratch. I just needed a financial backup.

Let’s get back to your job. You mentioned leaving in 2022

Yes. The job became toxic. My boss often acted as if paying salaries was a favour to her staff. There was no HMO or 13th month. At the end of the year, she’d give two people a half bag of rice to share and act like she had fed you for the whole year.

When I decided to resign and didn’t go to work that day, she sent a query suspending me for two weeks without pay. I just zeroed my mind that I wouldn’t get paid for that month, but she surprisingly sent 75% of my salary. I got a new job about a month later in December 2022. I still work there today.

What was the new job?

I work at an IT support company. I started as a sales and inventory officer on a ₦50k/month salary, plus random credit alerts from profit-sharing bonuses.

In September 2023, there was an opening for an accountant, and my boss just put me there. I don’t have a degree in accounting — my ND is in Public Admin — but I’m very good with figures. I learned the actual accounting processes on the job. The role change pushed my salary up to about ₦120k. It’s increased again since then, and I currently earn ₦200k/month.

You moved from ₦45k to ₦200k in about three years. How does that feel?

Well, it’s a big relief, but you know how money works. The more your income increases, the more your expenses widen, like your village people are using it against you.

For one, I went back to school. I’m currently in 300-level, self-funding my degree at the National Open University (NOUN). I also pay rent and occasionally send money to my younger siblings. Even though they earn more than I do now, they are still my younger siblings.

Because of this, my salary is not my only source of income. It can’t be. I’ve had my hands in several side hustles since I was earning ₦45k. Maybe that’s how I was even able to survive. But it’s great that I earn more now, so even in the months I can’t get extra, I can still manage.

Tell me about these side hustles

I do anything that brings money. Anywhere belle face na front o. For one, I book flight tickets. I started this while working at the travel company, making a little extra cash from independently helping some clients book tickets. Sometimes I can make as much as ₦60k on one ticket.

It’s not a regular income source, though. For instance, I’ve only done about four international tickets this year. There’s a particular middleman who brings requests to me, and from those deals alone, I’ve made roughly ₦200k to ₦250k this year.

Secondly, I do Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC) registrations for people. I also picked that up from work. I charge about ₦20k for business names and ₦40k for company registrations. CAC gigs have been slow this year; I’ve done only two.

Also, I do graphic design occasionally, and recently, I started a one-on-one investment consulting service. I’m very big on investments and regularly post about it on my WhatsApp status. People used to reach out for free tips, but this year, I stopped doing freebies. I now charge ₦10k.

There’s no particular window for how long the ₦10k lasts sha. Sometimes, when I’m bored, I tell them the ₦10k has expired, and they need to renew it. But I try to offer support for at least six months. I’ve had three paying clients this year. I also do other random things, like helping people source items for a quick fee. Anything really.

That’s a sizeable number of side hustles

My job gives me the freedom to run them. It’s why I’m not exactly eager to change jobs. My income from side hustles isn’t regular; sometimes they only come in when I really need extra cash, but they actually sustain my lifestyle. I don’t like dipping into my core salary or savings for enjoyment. So, I just use them to supplement until my next payday.

You mentioned being big on investments. What does your portfolio look like?

I have a very structured investment framework across stocks, equity funds and mutual funds. The heavy lifter is an informal investment with a woman in the East who runs an upscale gas business. My mum knows a lot of corporate savings and market investment people, so when I had a spare lump sum of ₦100k in October 2024 that I didn’t want to mix with my regular savings, she connected me to this woman.

The arrangement is a fixed 5% monthly return, and she holds the capital unless I give a one-month notice to liquidate. My ROI continues as long as my money is with her. I started with ₦100k and got ₦5k that first November. When I noticed she was paying promptly, I kept adding every extra bulk cash I made from my side businesses.

Right now, I have ₦1.1 million with her, which brings in ₦55k every single month. If I top it up to ₦1.2 million this month, my ROI becomes ₦60k next month.

I’m curious. Is there any legal structure around this? Like, if you ever need to prove your money is with her

No. There are no documents or anything like that. I don’t even know her in person. If I ran into her, I wouldn’t recognise her. All communication happens through my mum. I know it’s risky, but she has been consistent for almost two years.

I liquidated half of my investment with her last year, and she paid without issues. I just decided to continue because my ROI has been steady and the money is practically working for me. Last December, she even sent gifts and extra cash to my mum and me. As long as we’re both alive, aluta continua.

Also, the monthly ROI is what I put into my other investment channels. Once I get it, I spread it across my stocks and funds.

What do those portfolios look like now?

I have about ₦150k – ₦200k in stocks and close to ₦400k in mutual and equity funds. The stock market and equity funds took a massive dip recently, so everything is currently in the red. If we had this conversation two months ago, my portfolio would have been around ₦600k, excluding the gas business. But as a smart investor, I’m not panicking; we buy the dip. The only stable one is the mutual fund because the rates are fixed.

Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

This savings figure is separate from my investment portfolio. It’s strictly an emergency backup. Currently, I have ₦258,600 sitting there.

I don’t have a fixed amount for food or household bills because it really depends on my needs or how I split the bills with my sister. Right now, my sister isn’t around, so I don’t buy foodstuff in bulk. I just buy cooked meals or shawarma on the go.

How would you describe your relationship with money?

I’m incredibly tight with money. I’m unapologetically frugal because I refuse to ever be broke or at anyone’s mercy again.

I don’t spend on unnecessary things. I won’t upgrade my phone just because I feel like it; there must be a major reason, like the screen breaking four times or the upgrade directly increasing my chances of earning more money.

This year, I’m trying to be a little more open with spending on myself, but there’s still a limit I can allow. I’ll only spend randomly if someone gifts me money. Little money excites me. If you gift me ₦20k today, it’s a big deal because it means I don’t have to touch my own money. I read Naira Life stories of girls my age who have money in real estate, bonds, and gold, earning millions in dividends. That is my ultimate goal. If being heavily frugal is the price I have to pay to get there, I will pay it.

Do you think your attitude to money somewhat ties back to your family’s financial crash?

To an extent, yes. But it’s also just my innate personality. My younger siblings went through the same thing, but they are way more carefree with money. I am the family bank; if any of my siblings needs a ₦500k loan today, they come to me.

Right now, my siblings owe me no less than ₦700k. I don’t even like calculating it because it makes me angry at them for no reason. They pay back, but it’s always a cycle of paying half today and borrowing a new amount tomorrow.

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning monthly?

I don’t have a specific figure. If I say ₦100 million, my wants will just scale up to ₦500 million. I just want to be comfortable enough to afford my lifestyle. I’m planning a trip to Ghana for my 29th birthday this year, and it will cost at least ₦400k. I want to be able to execute that without blinking. If I want to visit Greece with my friends, I should be able to.

An average Nigerian is just one medical diagnosis away from being flat broke. If I get a tooth issue, I can pull money and fix it comfortably. But God forbid it’s a major illness like kidney failure, everything I have saved would barely cover the initial dialysis before I go broke. I don’t pressure myself over things I can’t control. If I die today, no problem, glory be to God, my siblings will just inherit my investments. Me sef no small.

What was the last thing you spent money on that made you genuinely happy?

I recently spent ₦58k on two gowns and a skirt from Shein. Old me would have taken that money to Iyana Ipaja or Yaba to buy a full bag of clothes. Shein may not be much for some people, but knowing I can deliberately transition my wardrobe to a higher quality on my own makes me feel like I’m handling this adulting thing well.

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

6. It’s a little above average because I can comfortably afford my day-to-day needs and the things that matter to me right now. I know I can do better, but I’ll leave it at a 6 for now.

What would make it a 10?

More money. Do I know how to get it? Probably. Am I ready to start chasing it right now? I don’t know yet.

I think I’m at the intermediate level of my financial journey. I’m definitely no longer a beginner because I have solid investment knowledge. I’m just right in the middle, building the basics before hitting the high points.

The main goal for now is to get my BSc next year, then kickstart my master’s degree by 2028. We fight our way upwards from there.

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

Find all the past Naira Life stories��here.

Subscribe to the newsletter here.

A Dress Mishap at 16 Inspired Oluwasewa Akinrimisi to Build a Global Fashion Brand

Boluwatife Oni — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 13:00:00 +0000

Oluwasewa Akinrimisi’s graduation ceremony in 2012 was supposed to be her announcement to the world. The day she finally shed her secondary school uniform for a beautiful dress.

She was so consumed by the excitement that she had sketched her dress’s design herself, completely unaware of the nightmare that awaited her.

Instead of a celebration, she remembers a heavy, suffocating exhaustion as she and her mother walked into store after store across Lagos, searching for a graduation dress that did not exist for a plus-size body.

“Every store we stepped into, we could not find something in my size,” Oluwasewa recalls, her voice carrying the memory of that disappointed 16-year-old girl. “My mum runs a business; she’s a very busy person. Eventually, she said, ‘If we don’t get it here, we have no choice.’ We had to go to Yaba to pick a bend-down-select dress.”

The dress they found was unflattering. Her mother tried to soften the blow with an old-school Nigerian parent hack: “Just put an abortion belt on it, wear very nice shoes, and you’ll feel better.”

Oluwasewa didn’t feel better. The sadness enveloped her beyond her graduation day, and she spent the next two weeks crying, spiralling so hard she failed her university entrance exam. But inside that heartbreak, she realised something.

“There was a mixture of the fact that this was a life-changing moment, and I also didn’t look good,” she says. “I just knew I never wanted to feel like that again.”

13 years later, Oluwasewa isn’t crying in fitting rooms anymore. At 29, she is the Founder and Creative Director of (derived from her name, Oluwasewasimilara), a bootstrapped, six-figure fashion brand operating out of a duplex in Lagos and serving clients worldwide.

This is the story of how a 16-year-old girl who failed an exam after a dress mishap left her heartbroken built a global empire by standing her ground, mastering systems, and refusing to dilute her identity.

Oluwasewa Akinrimisi. Source: Sewasimilara

The three-month apprentice

Shortly after the dress incident, Oluwasewa told her mother she wanted to learn tailoring. Her family immediately supported the idea. Her mother scouted a local tailor down the street and got Oluwasewa an apprenticeship. But back in 2012, no one thought fashion design was a viable career path for a young girl heading to university.

“Nobody saw it as a career,” Oluwasewa says. “They just thought, ‘Okay, maybe as you’re learning in school, you just have this extra handwork on the side.’”

But Oluwasewa wasn’t the typical apprentice. While traditional tailoring apprenticeships in Nigeria famously run for two to three gruelling years, Oluwasewa was out in three months.

“I had an eye for fashion and asked my boss a lot of questions. She could pick up the scissors, and I’d be like, ‘Why did you pick the scissors like that?’ At a point, she was frustrated by my many questions. But I was just so interested.”

By Christmas 2012, armed with three months of formal training, she transitioned to intense self-learning. When she entered the Federal University of Technology, Akure (FUTA) to study Statistics in 2014, her heart was already inside a sewing machine.

University brought unexpected challenges. Her mother’s business took a financial hit, forcing Oluwasewa to fend for herself. She went into survival mode. She tied gele, did makeup, styled hair, and sewed clothes. “Seven days a week, if you find somebody making money, I was there,” she laughs. “My major goal was just to eat. Not to have the best of anything; just to be able to eat.”

Her first real clients were secondary school girls preparing for a pageant. Remembering her own graduation trauma, she poured everything into making them feel beautiful. Subsequently, she began scouting girls at her university, transforming ordinary students into campus modelling stars through hair, makeup, and styling.

By her final year, while her classmates were preparing for corporate life, Oluwasewa looked at her full name, Oluwasewasimilara, which loosely translates to “The Lord has brought beauty into my life,” and realised her path was already written. Fashion wasn’t a side hustle; it was a calling. The Sewasimilara brand was born.

The Ikorodu bottleneck and the room that blew up

Finishing university meant returning home to Lagos, which brought a harsh geographical and socio-economic reality into her full view: She was living and operating out of Ikorodu.

In the Lagos fashion ecosystem, geography is destiny. To the elite clientele in the upscale areas like Lekki and Ikoyi, Ikorodu might as well be another country.

“I didn’t know there was such a big issue with Ikorodu versus the rest of Lagos,” Oluwasewa says. “People would see my clothes on social media and call me. They’d say, ‘Oh, but you’re in Ikorodu? That’s so far away.’ They always used that as a reason to beat the price down. The price was already low, but they wanted it lower because of the perception of where I was based.”

Undeterred, she woke up early, packed her custom-made dresses into bags, braved the chaotic Lagos BRT buses — almost losing her leg in a bus terminal stampede once — and took ferry rides to deliver pieces to Island influencers.

By 2019 and early 2020, her work was already yielding returns. She was building online momentum, making sample pieces from her mother’s bedroom.

Then, in the middle of the pandemic, she got her first big break: a massive government gig to produce 2,000 fabric face masks, which she executed with a designer friend. The contract brought her first major financial win of about ₦500,000. Her mother celebrated by making a victory meal of pounded yam.

But the high from this win was quickly followed by devastating lows. Shortly after the mask contract, tragedy struck twice in a single week.

“My niece accidentally threw fire into my workspace and burnt down half of the room,” she says quietly. “All my savings, my fabrics, gone. In the same week, my Instagram page got hacked.”

With her physical workspace in ashes and her digital storefront stolen, many would have thrown in the towel and looked for a 9-to-5 job. Her parents definitely dropped hints, asking when she was going to get a “serious” job. Oluwasewa stayed down for exactly two weeks.

“I didn’t have a second option. It was either this or nothing,” she says. She braced herself and decided to keep moving.

From runway losses to Vogue pages

Late 2020 brought another test. Oluwasewa entered a high-profile organised by WAW Soap. Beyond showcasing her designs, she wanted to make a statement. So, she demanded a plus-size model on her runway, forcing the organisers to hold special auditions.

Her collection featured that changed silhouette as the models walked. “It got the loudest reaction from the audience. Everybody was screaming,” she remembers. Yet, when the winners were announced, Sewasimilara didn’t make the cut.

“I left there feeling like, ‘You know what? I’m going to prove them wrong.’ It was the first time I ever got to say publicly that I am an inclusive fashion designer, and I stood my ground.”

The universe rewards those who stand their ground. In 2022, an international shoe designer based in Canada slid into Oluwasewa’s Instagram DMs to collaborate on a clothing collection. They signed a formal 50-50 contractual agreement, designed the collection together, and produced it entirely in Nigeria.

The collection walked international runways and, unexpectedly, got featured in Vogue.

Oluwasewa’s designs on a Vancouver runway.

“The whole experience was mind-blowing,” Oluwasewa says, the awe still fresh in her voice. “I went from not having money, from a brand people doubted because I was in Ikorodu, to getting a Vogue feature. At that point, my parents stopped asking me when I’d get a real job. It was obvious I already had one.”

Going fully global

If the Vogue feature brought prestige, 2024 brought explosive global scale.

Oluwasewa was navigating the suffocating crowds at Balogun Market in central Lagos when her phone buzzed. It was a DM from The Shade Room — an American media giant with over 28 million followers — asking for permission to post her work. She had designed a vibrant purple dress for a Nigerian content creator, and the internet had taken notice.

The purple dress. Source: Sewasimilara

“I was holding my phone in the middle of Balogun market. I thought I was blind. I thought it was a scam,” she laughs. “I turned the phone off, picked it up, and looked again. The Shade Room. Wow.”

When the post went live, the carousel triggered an avalanche of international orders. “People straight from The Shade Room DMs were reaching out. Our international clientele loved the purple dress.”

Today, Sewasimilara is no longer an Ikorodu business. It is a fully registered American company (as of 2025), removing the historic nightmare of cross-border payment structures that plague Nigerian creators.

“At the beginning, receiving payments from abroad was a real, serious issue,” she explains. “I had to diversify, using two or three trusted family friends abroad to collect money so no one person would hold onto my funds. Now, clients just put their cards in, pay, and they’re good to go.”

The currency of value

Now 29, running a six-figure dollar brand out of a duplex with a team of 12 full-time staff, Oluwasewa looks back at her 13-year journey with intense self-awareness.

Oluwasewa Akinrimisi. Source: Sewasimilara

She has completely unlearned the traditional Nigerian corporate mentality of hoarding cash or exploiting workers. Instead, she pours her profits directly back into her team. When her head tailor showed an interest in digital design, Sewasimilara paid for her digital illustration courses.

“People think of money as cash, but I think of it as value,” she says. “I don’t have a hoarding mentality. I would rather my team members get appropriate training that makes them better. That is a serious investment.”

More importantly, she has refused to dilute the African essence of her brand to appease Western markets. While other brands westernise their aesthetics to appeal globally, Sewasimilara leans heavily into its heritage. Her collection series, , celebrates deep Yoruba culture. Her logo intentionally retains raw Yoruba artistic markings.

“We are Yoruba. We are Nigerian. We are not attempting to look like African Americans or Germans,” she says defiantly. “And what we find is that our international clientele actually love the culture. We had a client travel from the United States to Lagos just to pick up a dress. We took her to the John Randle Centre, talked about history, and she connected deeply. Your story and your perspective are unique. You must carry your brand with its story.”

From crying over an ill-fitting thrift dress in Yaba to dressing global icons from a duplex workshop in Lagos, Oluwasewa’s advice to the next generation of African builders is simple:

“You have to 100% bet on yourself, because there will be days where that is the only thing that will carry you through. Build your systems around making your customer’s life seamless. Be authentic, and never apologize for the story that brought you here.”

NEXT READ: “I Make C$6,000 a Month as a Nigerian Photographer in Canada” — How I Turned My Hobby Into a Business

#NairaLife: He Once Lived on Exam Fraud. Now, He’s Trying to Clean Up His Act With Stocks

Boluwatife Oni — Mon, 22 Jun 2026 06:45:08 +0000

Every week,��è��Ƶ seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

What’s your earliest memory of money?

At the beginning of the term, my primary school would give us a long list of textbooks. The parents handled the book purchases, but my parents handed the responsibility to me when I was in primary two.

They’d give me money for the entire list so I could sort myself out. Not all the books were compulsory, and I got to choose which one I wanted to buy each time. My parents didn’t really care what I did. They believed I could handle it myself.

And you didn’t “chop” the money?

I mostly used it for the books. But since I didn’t buy all the books at once, I’d hold on to the money to see if the teachers would actually demand some books. If by the mid-term, the teachers hadn’t checked, that book money automatically became mine. But if they asked, I’d quickly bring out the saved cash and buy it.

I understood the power and value of money because of this book thing. I saw how teachers routinely chased students out of the classroom because their parents couldn’t afford the books. I was never chased out.

What was the financial situation at home like back then?

Looking back now with adult lenses, I realise we weren’t rich, but my parents were incredibly hard workers.

My mother was a trader, and my dad worked at the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPC). People will hear NNPC and assume we were swimming in oil money, but he wasn’t a high-ranking staff. He was more like a third-party consultant. Still, our family didn’t lack the basics. Our rent was never late, and I was never sent home from school. We didn’t own cars, but we were okay.

When did you start earning your own money?

Right after my JSS 3 exams in 2013 or 2014. I got a job at a local bakery. The pay was ₦500 per day.

Why did you take a job at that age?

My parents only provided the basics, such as food. Nobody was going to give me flexing money. Some of my peers went into block moulding, but I chose the bakery.

At the bakery, I wrapped bread, washed baking pans, and carried heavy logs of wood to the ovens. I didn’t work every day; the bakery didn’t open on Wednesdays and Sundays, and as a casual worker, I could show up to learn that there was no space for the day. So, I worked on and off for two months before resuming senior secondary school.

What did you do with your daily ₦500?

Honestly, a big chunk of the money went right back into treating my body. I always returned home from work with body pains from the heavy lifting.

I couldn’t even complain to my mum or anyone because they’d remind me that it was my decision to work there. So, I used my earnings to buy medications to patch myself up. The rest went to buying evening suya. Nothing meaningful came out of it.

Phew. Did you try anything else for money in secondary school?

Yes. In SS 2, I joined a voluntary youth organisation in church called the Royal Ambassadors of Nigeria. To fully participate, I needed to buy the uniform and pay for a ranking exercise. The uniform and sewing cost ₦9,000, and the exercise was ₦1,500, totalling ₦10,500.

When I asked my mum for the money, she said, “That thing is not your school, so I’m not paying for it.” I had to raise the money myself.

What did you do?

I hawked pure water after school hours and on Saturdays. I made about ₦700 – ₦800 in daily profit.

Every Saturday afternoon, after selling water, I’d head straight to our weekly Ambassadors meeting. Then I’d hand over my daily profit to the unit president, who kept my payment record. I did this for about five months until the ₦10,500 was fully paid up, and I got ranked. Today, I use that experience to mentor younger boys whose parents refuse to support their extracurricular goals.

The next time the “spirit of hustle” returned was when I was in SS 3. I was supposed to be preparing for WAEC or NECO, but based on my calculations, I predicted that year’s WAEC results might be bad.

Wait. How?

I noticed that if the WAEC results for a year were good, the following year’s would be bad. It looked like that year’s WAEC might be bad, so to avoid wasting money, I suggested to my parents that they either pay for just NECO or for both exams.

NECO was more expensive than WAEC, which was only ₦7k in 2017. My parents were like, “We don’t have more than ₦7k. It’s either you register for WAEC or go and look for the NECO balance.”

Other people would have gotten frustrated. Me, I just smiled. I stopped going to school regularly to read my books at home instead. I used the free time to look for a job.

What did you find?

A job packaging nylon sheets at a cellophane factory for ₦12k/month. I worked there for a few months to cover part of the NECO registration fee, which ended up costing over ₦60k in total, including school logistics.

When I needed more money to cover the costs, someone connected me with an aluminium and glass company. The salary there was ₦15k/month. But there was a catch; the owner asked if I was still a student. Everyone assumed I had graduated, and if I told her the truth, she wouldn’t hire me because the workload required full-time commitment. I lied and said I was done with school, even though I still had NECO exams to write.

How did you manage work and your exams?

It was chaotic. On exam days, I’d pretend I was terribly sick and rush out of work. Balancing it was so hard that I actually missed my economics paper completely and got an ‘absent’ in my results. I still passed the general requirements sha.

The work itself was stressful. I cut the aluminium, managed banking deposits because they trusted me, and travelled alone to Warri and Onitsha to source materials. My salary eventually increased to ₦20k, but transportation costs ate up most of it. To save money, I would trek for hours every single morning from my house to the workshop. I worked there from June until September 2018, when I moved to Warri, which wasn’t far from home.

What was the plan?

I hoped to secure a job with my O-Level results and start my life. I squatted with friends and relatives in Warri, since I couldn’t afford accommodation.

Thankfully, soon after I arrived, I found an open security guard position at a private school. The ₦18k/month salary was small, but I took it because it was a Monday-to-Friday gig, which meant my Saturdays were free for my Royal Ambassadors meetings.

A few weeks into the job, the school’s owner noticed my competence and computer literacy. She pulled me away from the gate and put me in her office as the school secretary. I stopped wearing the security uniform, even though I was still doing both jobs — I monitored the school gate from the office window.

Did she increase your salary for the double role?

No. She pleaded that the school was small and couldn’t afford an increase. I accepted because I was running an event-planning hustle on weekends. I was highly active in the entertainment scene in Warri and other neighbouring towns. I did everything from promoting clubs and handling stage management to working as a DJ assistant and selling tickets for music concerts and festivals.

I was incredibly good at convincing people. I could talk a group looking for a table of four into upgrading to a table of six on the spot. My pay wasn’t stable since my work depended on what service was needed, but a typical event weekend brought me between ₦5k and ₦10k.

How long did you stay at the school?

About three years. I was there from September 2018 until 2021. By January 2019, the school’s student population had dropped drastically, and the owner called a meeting to lay off staff. Some of us agreed to take a pay cut instead of losing our jobs, so my salary dropped to ₦15k.

During school holidays, when there was no work to do, the owner would arrange for me to work at her husband’s hotel so I could earn something. It wasn’t until after the COVID-19 lockdown that she returned my salary to ₦18k.

By 2021, I looked around and realised all my friends were already in higher institutions. Even though I was making money from events, I told myself, “If I don’t go to school now, I will lose interest forever.” So, I resigned and got admission to a polytechnic in a different town.

How did you fund your education?

I’m not proud of this part of my story.

When I first arrived at school, my accommodation plans fell through, and the place I ended up staying was so far that my daily commute cost could pay a student’s monthly rent in town.

Also, I was too far from Warri to continue my event planning side hustle, and I knew my savings would run out quickly. Out of desperation, I approached two lecturers to offer my services as an office assistant in exchange for small money, but they both rejected me. I was heartbroken, but I couldn’t wallow in it for too long. Instantly, I started looking for other options.

I noticed that some students were either too lazy or busy to complete assignments or school registrations, so I seized the opportunity to do them for a little change here and there. One day, while helping someone process their documents in an administrative office, I met a guy who had been hearing about my academic performance. He tested my intelligence right there, saw what I was capable of, and introduced me to exam impersonation.

As in, writing exams for other people?

Yes. It started small with continuous assessment tests. He’d pay me between ₦2k and ₦4k per test. Then the main semester exams arrived, and the first one was a computer-based exam. The guy who brought me in didn’t trust me with a major exam, but his main guy, who was supposed to write the exam on behalf of others, disappointed him on the morning of a 7 a.m. paper.

So he gave me the login details for three students. I walked into the hall, logged into the first portal and completed the exam. Then I logged into the second, cleared it, and did the third. Nobody suspected a thing because I have a very calm, gentle face. When I walked out, ₦100k was credited to my account instantly.

Interesting

That single morning changed everything. From that moment on, a large portion of my polytechnic tuition and rent was paid entirely with money from impersonation. I’m not proud of it, but the money kept me going. Every semester, I was guaranteed at least ₦200k from exam runs.

Eventually, it grew into a full operation. Because I didn’t like seeing intelligent, broke students struggling, I started outsourcing the jobs. Clients would bring jobs, and I’d hire brilliant students who needed cash, pay them excellently well — sometimes ₦10k just to sit beside me and copy answers — and ensure everyone was taken care of.

Then, in 2023, around the tail end of my National Diploma (ND) program, I decided to stop the impersonation.

Why?

People started to know me at school, including some from my hometown. I didn’t want to destroy my reputation at home, so I deliberately began to pull away and transitioned to running legitimate online tutorials for students. I was also predicting exam questions based on the lecturer’s patterns. It didn’t pay real money, though. I mostly just got “Thank you, boss” as appreciation.

But I still needed money, so while writing my final exams, I deliberately failed a course to remain in school for one month of remedial work. The way these exam impersonations work, it’s less risky if you actually have a reason to be in the exam hall. I made about ₦80k during that period before I finally left school in August 2023.

What came next?

I immediately got a job as a hotel supervisor and storekeeper for ₦70k/month. The money was quite low compared to what I made from impersonation, but it came with a clear conscience and free accommodation.

A few months later, my salary climbed to ₦75k. It kept increasing little by little until the final increment to ₦90k in May 2025. I had to leave the job in July 2025 because of problems in the town: cult violence, armed robbery and insecurity. So, I packed up and returned to Warri. I’ve been here since.

What do you do now?

I work as a clerk/representative for a brewery. The brewery partners with local entrepreneurs who have land to run a bar. The brand builds the bar for them and, in exchange, takes 20% of total revenue. My job is to sit at the bar and ensure every single drink sold passes through our POS machines so the brand’s 20% cut is accurately recorded.

I earn ₦180k/month. The job also comes with optional accommodation at the lounge if I work too late. I don’t live there permanently, though.

What kind of lifestyle does your income afford you?

It’s definitely not a luxurious one because I operate a very strict, aggressive financial plan. In fact, I would say I’m living an investor’s lifestyle. I share an apartment with a friend, and we split the ₦15k monthly rent equally. I still contribute to utilities and food, but most of my income goes into investments.

Let’s break that down for a typical month

I look at that ₦80k as a gift to my future self. Even if I have to starve or squeeze through the month, that ₦80k investment is non-negotiable. Sometimes I look back on 2021/2022 and wish I had known about investments when the exam money was flowing in. I would have been unstoppable.

What exactly do you invest in?

Stocks. I’ve been learning about the stock exchange for a few years now, and my job now gives me some room to practice what I’ve been learning. I started buying shares heavily in April 2026. My investment philosophy is strictly long-term. My logic is that nothing that cost ₦100 in 2014 is less than ₦1,500 today. The price of things must definitely increase, so it’s better to buy now and let the value grow for me.

Currently, I have about ₦222,000 actively locked in stocks. I have shares in the brewery I work for and some banks. I also buy shares in consumer goods companies because I remember my dad buying their products years ago, and they are still standing strong. I avoid Nigerian insurance companies because I’m not sure the system here works. If I ever buy insurance stocks, it will be in the US market.

How would you describe your relationship with money?

It’s highly risky because I really hate money sitting idle. I cannot have cash sitting in a bank account. Money must always have an active purpose. If it doesn’t have a purpose, it will be wasted.

People around me sometimes complain, saying, “You are a grown man, how can you say you don’t have up to ₦20k on you?” They easily forget that a few days prior, when the cash was there, I completely settled all household and family emergencies. Once those are sorted, the rest goes straight into my stock portfolio. I don’t care who falls sick or complains after that. My investment portfolio comes first.

Out of curiosity, do you have a net worth goal?

₦100 billion.

Billion?

Yes. The day I hit ₦100 billion worth of assets, I will pause and set a new goal. I don’t attach timelines to my goals because I don’t believe in putting unnecessary pressure on myself. I will chase this number until the day I drop into my grave.

My ultimate vision is real estate. I want to acquire land and build houses in every student area or around higher institutions across the country. My strategy is to crash student rent prices so low that other landlords will have no choice but to drop their prices or sell their properties to me. High student housing costs are a major reason students are driven to cybercrime and fraud just to keep a roof over their heads. If I can fix housing, I can reduce student crime.

Is there anything you want right now but cannot afford?

Two things. I want a Toyota Tundra for easy mobility. I recently saw one that cost about ₦120 million. Secondly, I want to go back to school to study Law. Based on my breakdown, ₦20 million will comfortably fund my legal education to graduation.

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

A solid 9. The only reason it’s not a 10 is because of that hunger for more. But it’s a 9 because my 2018 self would look at me today and be incredibly proud. I have stable earnings, a roof over my head, and I can officially call myself a corporate shareholder in multiple institutions.

Also, I’d like to add something.

Shoot

To anyone who finds themselves in a desperate corner like I was during my campus days: if you must do something questionable to survive, never be proud of it. If you let greed keep you doing illegal stuff because the money is sweet, you will eventually get caught.

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

Find all the past Naira Life stories��here.

Subscribe to the newsletter here.

7 Nigerian Men Share the Cost of Being the “Man of the House”

Boluwatife Oni — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 12:14:51 +0000

Nobody prepares you for the moment your parents become your dependents. For many Nigerian men, becoming the “man of the house” means paying rent, funding siblings, covering emergencies and carrying entire households before they’ve had a chance to build their own lives.

For Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, we spoke to seven men about the financial and mental cost of being everyone’s safety net.

**“I became the ‘man of the house’ at 19” — Jamal*, 29**

I was 19 when my dad went to prison for workplace fraud. The shock contributed to my mum’s stroke, which left her unable to walk properly. As the first of five children, everyone looked to me to provide.

I was in 200 level, but I had to start random hustles to make sure we survived. At one point, I worked in a poultry farm during the day and did security work at night. While my classmates were talking about girlfriends, I was calculating the cost of school fees and my mum’s blood pressure meds. My dad was released two years ago, but I’m still the breadwinner.

**“I’ve inherited my dad’s responsibilities” — Jeremiah*, 26**

My dad sort of handed over the “provider” baton to me after I passed out from NYSC. This is mostly my fault. My first job was remote and paid in dollars, and I excitedly told my dad about it. More foolishly, I gave him half of my first salary (about ₦500k) as a gesture of appreciation for funding my life up to that point.

That’s how the billing started.

He started expecting an allowance every month. He’d ask me, “They haven’t paid you?” when I delayed sending him money.

Now, whenever my siblings ask him for money, he sends them to me. Last year, I paid our ₦1.8 million house rent. It was supposed to be a loan, but he hasn’t repaid me yet. It’s exhausting because I should be planning for my future, but I’m inheriting bills.

**“40% of my salary goes to black tax” — Ben*, 28**

In 2021, my parents invested almost everything into a business partnership with a family friend. The friend disappeared with the money. The stress nearly destroyed my parents. It completely destroyed their finances.

I was a 23-year-old final-year university student when the whole thing happened. My plan to pursue a master’s abroad immediately went down the drain. Instead, I focused on getting a job as soon as possible to support my home. It’s been five years, and now, 40% of my salary goes to my parents and younger sister.

**“I’m not the firstborn, but since I’m a man, there are expectations” — Kingsley*, 29**

My phone notifications are my biggest source of anxiety. Since my dad retired from the police force six years ago, every call from home has either been about hospital bills, rent or a family emergency.

It’s wild because I’m not even the firstborn. I have an older sister, but as a man, the expectations just fell on me. Two years ago, I tried a thing where I said no to every request and stubbornly refused to send money, but my mum called me crying that they hadn’t eaten for days. I had to start sending money again.

These days, I try to keep it to a ₦80k monthly allowance for my parents and lock up whenever new requests come in. Sometimes, though, emergencies come, and my strategy to limit my black tax fails.

**“I provide for my sister and her baby” — Mike*, 27**

I lost my dad when I was 4, so I’ve been hustling for as long as I can remember to supplement whatever money my mum manages to give me. Once I started earning a reasonable income at 20, I naturally took on most of the household bills.

Recently, my financial responsibilities have increased. My younger sister, who had a baby, isn’t on good terms with the baby’s daddy. So, she and the baby now live with my mum and me. I’m spending a fortune on diapers, baby food and clothes. I don’t really mind because it’s my sister. However, I sometimes can’t help thinking about the fact that I earn ₦1.5 million/month and have zero savings.

**“I can’t wait to have the final say on my own money” — Caleb*, 22**

I’m my parents’ retirement plan. They don’t say it outright, but it’s obvious in the way they plan my money for me. My dad says things like “when your salary comes, help us with X amount so we can do so and so,” or “Let’s try to pay for XX by month’s end.”

I can’t object because I work with a family friend, and everyone knows how much I earn. I can’t wait to leave this house and get another job so I can have the final say on what to do with my own money.

**“It’s hard, but I’m glad I can support my family” — Nonso*, 35**

I’ve been the breadwinner since I was 18 after my dad left our family in Nigeria to marry another woman abroad.

I did several odd jobs for years to keep my sisters in uni and support my mum’s petty trading income. I never went to uni myself, but I now run a successful business and still support my family. It gets hard at times, especially when I think about the fact that I can’t spend anyhow because of the people depending on me. But I know my sisters see my sacrifices and are incredibly grateful to me.

The oldest one changed my car tyres a few months ago and comes to my place randomly to cook for me. I have a wonderful family, and I’m glad I can support them.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: “She Secretly Used My Card” — 8 Nigerian Men Share Their Most Financially Demanding Relationships

How Jollof Became Nigeria’s Most Powerful Cultural Language

Boluwatife Oni — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 11:28:32 +0000

There is an unspoken rule in every Nigerian gathering or party: the success of the event rests entirely on the quality of the Jollof rice. You could have the most expensive decor or the most entertaining live band, but if the Jollof is mid, or worse, absent, the vibe is ruined.

But why does a plate of tomato-based rice carry so much weight? How did a recipe born out of West African history become our most powerful cultural language, an international symbol of pride, and the ultimate unifier in a country of over 250 ethnic groups?

To understand this is to know that, in Nigeria, Jollof is much more than just food; it is also an identity and the ultimate expression of a good time.

In a country of many differences, Jollof is common ground

Nigeria is a complex mix of different languages and subcultures. Yet, across every regional divide, Jollof rice remains the undisputed common ground. Whether you are in Lagos, Abuja, or Port Harcourt, Jollof is the equaliser. It bridges generation gaps and turns strangers into friends. It is our collective love language; a dish that demands you sit down and connect.

Much like Afrobeats and Nigerian fashion, Nigerian Jollof has also gone global. It’s fiercely debated on the internet and featured on high-end restaurant menus from London to New York. Because of this massive cultural weight, it has naturally become a muse for Nigeria’s creative pioneers, merging seamlessly with music and visual art.

Think of the musical evolution of a global icon like Adekunle Gold, whose Fuji-inspired sound bridges tradition and modern pop. Or the legendary artist Victor Ehikhamenor, whose bold, royal-inspired art brings heritage into contemporary spaces.

When you mix good Jollof, great music, and bold art, you get an elevated experience that speaks to everyone who loves a good time.

For the culture: The ultimate fusion of taste, sound, and style

This exciting intersection of food, lifestyle, and creativity is exactly what is taking over the country this season. is back, bigger, bolder, and tastier than ever.��

Under this year’s theme, “For the Culture,” Knorr is bringing food, music, and art together under one roof.

Running from the 20th of June to the 19th of July 2026, the festival is bringing an immersive cultural experience to Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt. It is a space where Jollof becomes our common language, Adekunle Gold’s modern-heritage sounds provide the rhythm, and African art surrounds it all with beautiful installations and limited-edition merchandise.

The nationwide movement is drawing in some of the country’s most prominent culture shifters, lifestyle icons, and culinary masters. Personalities like Tobi Bakre, Taymesan, Nancy Umeh, and Kaylah Oniwo, alongside beloved culinary creators such as Chef Fregz, Chef T (Diary of a Kitchen Lover), Chef Cupid, and Chef Zeelicious, are partnering to champion this new wave of food storytelling.

The journey, which kicked off with an exclusive listening party and the unveiling of Ehikhamenor’s Black Muse sculpture park in Benin last year, is now turning into massive pop-ups. Attendees at the Lagos edition will even experience a live performance by Adekunle Gold, bringing this fusion of taste, sound, and style full circle in a way that feels unmistakably Nigerian.

Ultimately, Jollof proves that the things that connect us are far more powerful than the things that divide us. Through Knorr Jollof Fest, is reminding us that our culture is bold, timeless, and best experienced together — accompanied, of course, by a perfectly seasoned plate of Nigeria’s favourite dish.

Love Currency: “My Mother-in-Law Is a Financial Burden, but I Can’t Admit It”

Boluwatife Oni — Tue, 16 Jun 2026 07:59:08 +0000

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship?��If yes,��.

How long have you been with your partner?

My wife, Phoebe, and I have been married for five years. We courted for a year before we got married.

How did you meet?

My pastor matchmade us in 2020. I’d just come out of a long-term relationship that ended in heartbreak, and my pastor noticed I was getting depressed. So, he was like, “You need to move on. I have the perfect woman for you.”

Pheobe was his wife’s mentee. My pastor shared her number, and we got talking. True to his words, she was the perfect woman. She was warm, outgoing, and we shared similar values. We knew the purpose of the matchmaking was to get married, so once we clicked, we just started planning the wedding.

It took a year because we had to attend marriage counselling for six months and court for another six — we don’t call it dating in my church — to know each other better. Our families and church helped fund our wedding, which was really helpful.

Would you say you were both financially prepared to get married?

Can one really be completely financially ready? From our income perspective, it could definitely have been better.

I had an office manager job that paid me ₦150k/month, and Phoebe’s teaching job paid ₦80k. Both salaries combined weren’t ideal for building a home, but we believed in starting small and taking one step at a time.

Also, we agreed that it would be all-hands-on-deck. We were open with each other about our finances, and the idea was we’d operate a 100-100 system. My money is our money, and so is her money. As long as there was a need, either of us could take it up if we had the money to sort it out.

Was it like a joint account system?

Oh no. Each person’s money stays in their own account. I don’t really believe in joint accounts or putting all the money in one person’s account because it can intentionally give one person power over the other.

You have to start explaining what you’re using your money for, and you can’t even spend your own money freely without someone keeping an eye on it. It works for some people, but I don’t think it’s healthy.

I see your point

Our own system is different. We know each other’s income and handle expenses as they come. If my wife gets paid now, she can buy food for the home without asking me. If her salary runs out, she tells me, and I send her money for food.

Or if my salary runs out first after taking care of things for the house, she starts “loaning” me money for transport. I typically don’t pay back, and she doesn’t expect me to. Even if I pay her back and become broke again, she’s still the one I’ll run back to. We’ve been running this system for five years now, and it’s been working for us.

What do your finances look like these days?

I earn ₦380k/month now, and my wife earns about ₦150k in total from teaching and organising after-school tutorials.

We earn more now, but things are tougher than when we first got married because we now have two children, and my wife’s mother moved in with us five months ago.

Oh. Why did she move in?

She used to live with my wife’s elder brother until he moved out of the country, and my wife didn’t want her to return to the village alone. I understand her reasons, but having my mother-in-law here has only made our financial struggles worse.

Before, we could manage our finances so that my wife’s salary covered our feeding and her transportation to work. Mine covered rent, transportation, and other household expenses. Now, barely one week after my wife gets paid, she starts asking me for food money because she’s spent all her salary.

Since my mother-in-law came, our food expenses have tripled. She has certain health conditions and can only eat certain foods, such as fish and vegetables, without seasoning. Most of the time, my wife has to cook two separate meals so Mama can eat. That’s not sustainable, and I’m tired of complaining. Whenever I complain about her money running out too quickly, my wife makes it seem like I don’t want her mother around.

To be fair to her, my wife tries her best to manage the added expenses, but it’s still a lot for us. The only solution would be for my mother-in-law to leave. She’s a financial burden, and my wife knows it, which is why she interprets my complaints as an attempt to send her away.

Technically, that’s true. I want her to leave, but I’ve been holding back from saying it to keep the peace. Admitting that would be like signing away my peace of mind. For years to come, she’ll keep referring to the time when I “sent her mother away”.

Hmm. So, how do you intend to handle the situation?

I’ve repeatedly suggested to my wife that we ask her brother to send us some money each month to take care of her mother, but she’s against it for a couple of reasons.

One, her brother just recently relocated, and she thinks it would be unfair to start asking for money before they get settled. Two, it’s her mum, and she wants to be able to take care of her. Again, I understand that, but how can we do that when we don’t have money? I’m trying to be as patient and understanding as I can to avoid a major disagreement, but it gets to a limit. We’ve been having regular quarrels about it.

I’ve told my wife she has until September to discuss with her brother and settle on a living arrangement or allowance for her mother. Our first child will start school in September. If she doesn’t discuss the situation with her brother, I’ll call him myself and tell him what’s happening here. I can’t keep shouldering extra responsibility.

With all the financial responsibilities, is there any space in your budget for relationship expenses like dates and gifts?

With which money? I can’t remember the last time we went on a date or bought each other gifts. We didn’t even take those seriously before. Now, we’re just trying to survive.

You mentioned saving for rent earlier. Is there any other safety net?

It’s mostly just rent. I save ₦65k monthly for that. My wife makes a ₦15k monthly ajo contribution at her place of work, and we usually use that to get something we need for the house or to repay any loan we’ve taken to cover expenses.

We take loans from friends almost every month to sort out one unforeseen circumstance or another. In April, for instance, my son fell ill, and we had to borrow ₦100k for the medical expenses.

What’s the ideal financial future you’d like for you and Phoebe?

We both need better jobs. What we earn today is practically nothing. If we both earn at least ₦500k, I’m sure our future will be much better.

Interested in talking about how money moves in your relationship? If yes, .

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Introduced Her to a Lifestyle I Can No Longer Maintain

#NairaLife: The 25-Year-Old Business Owner Who’s Trying to Recover From Past Financial Mistakes

Boluwatife Oni — Mon, 15 Jun 2026 06:55:06 +0000

Every week,��è��Ƶ seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

What’s your earliest memory of money?

When I was in JSS 2, I desperately wanted this trendy purse that all my friends were bringing to school. It cost ₦2,500. I asked my mum to buy it for me, but she refused. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford it; she just didn’t think a purse was necessary.

Instead of trying to convince her, I decided to find a way to get the purse myself.

What did you do?

I asked my sister for ₦200, and used it to buy powdered drink flavours and small nylon bags. I mixed them with water to make what we called “Tasty Time” ice drinks, and packed them into our home freezer.

Then I sold them to neighbourhood kids for about ₦20 or ₦50 each. Within a week or two, the word spread, and kids would flock to my house after school to buy them. I made enough to save up ₦2,500 and bought the purse myself.

How did your mum react?

She was so surprised. She didn’t realise I wanted the purse that badly, and she definitely didn’t expect me to pull off a business like that. She was incredibly proud of my resourcefulness.

What was the financial situation at home back then?

My parents separated when I was about a year old, so I grew up with just my mum and my sister. My mum was a civil servant, but she also ran two businesses on the side, including travelling across Nigerian states and Dubai to buy clothes to resell.

We were a very comfortable, average family. She paid for private school for my sister and me, and food was never an issue. We even had house helps.

Did you try anything else for money in secondary school after the ice drink venture?

I can’t remember doing much else until after secondary school. I graduated in 2017 but didn’t get admission into the university until late 2019.

During the waiting period, I decided to train to be a makeup artist. I had done a bit of modelling and always loved how makeup artists transformed my face, so I asked my mum to pay for a training course. She paid around ₦30,000 for a three-month programme.

During the training, I got really close to my boss, and she made me her personal assistant. I ended up staying at the shop way past my training period. We’d work together, and sometimes I’d handle clients at the shop or do home services.

Were you making money from that?

Yes, I made between ₦3,000 and ₦5,000 per appointment doing makeup and tying gele. The appointments weren’t frequent, usually once weekly or three times every two weeks, but the money was something. My boss also randomly gave me pocket money.

Around that same time, my aunt noticed that the makeup shop was in a busy market area, with lots of women coming in, so she suggested I start selling women’s accessories. My mum gave me the capital — I can’t remember how much — and my aunt took me to the market to buy slippers, sandals, earrings, and rings.

I’d buy earrings for ₦200 or ₦250 and resell them for ₦1,000 or ₦1,500. It was highly profitable. I sold to my colleagues at the shop, clients, and friends. I also sold to family members whenever I visited them for holidays.

I used the money I made to buy new makeup, clothes, and general supplies to prepare for university when I eventually gained admission in 2019.

Did you continue the business at uni?

Only in my first semester. The friends I made in school weren’t business-oriented at all, and without that shared energy, the ginger to continue disappeared.

For the rest of my time in uni, I didn’t do a single thing for money and lived on the ₦20k monthly allowance my mum sent me for food. I called home for other expenses, like textbooks and handouts. I also always took provisions and foodstuff back to school whenever I visited home.

So I guess your pocket money was more than enough for survival

Yeah. It also helped that my roommates and I shared foodstuff and cooked together. Whenever anyone had money, we sort of spent it together.

Also, I had boyfriends who regularly gave me money. I hardly ever cooked because someone was always buying me food or junk. So, I didn’t really have a major need for money in school.

How about after graduation?

I graduated in 2023 and went for NYSC the following year. My Place of Primary Assignment (PPA) was a loan company that paid me ₦35k/month, in addition to NYSC’s ₦33k allawee.

The job wasn’t convenient for me, though. I had to stay at my mum’s friend’s because it was closer to the office, but transportation alone was eating up a massive chunk of my earnings. The company’s culture also didn’t align with me. I worked for just about six months and ghosted them for the rest of my service year.

What did you do after NYSC?

I passed out of service in 2025 and tried applying for jobs, but the options I saw paid too little. They were offering between ₦100k and ₦150k/month. I didn’t want to stress myself at a corporate job for that little money.

I decided to focus my energy on running a business instead. I restarted my clothing business, selling basic tops and women’s clothes on Instagram and TikTok. In July 2025, right before Girlfriend’s Day on August 1st, I came up with the idea of making “basic top bouquets.” They were gift bouquets made out of folded female tops and boxes. I hadn’t seen anyone do it online, so I partnered with a friend who does decorations. We rented a hotel room, shot a creative video, and posted it on TikTok.

The video went viral and got almost 400k views. Orders started flying in from guys who wanted to surprise their girlfriends. In that single week leading up to August 1st, I made over ₦600k.

Whoosh! Sounds like a big win

It should have been, but it didn’t feel like it because of a financial crisis happening in the background. I was heavily drowning in debt.

What happened?

My dad passed away in 2021 when I was in 200 level. He was a civil servant. Since I’m his only child, the responsibility fell to me to handle the documentation we needed to process his pension and insurance benefits, which are worth about ₦3 million.

The nightmare started when I went to his office in 2024. For about a year and a half after his death, we couldn’t find his phone or ATM card. It turns out that a woman he was dating before his death had stolen them. My dad lost his sight as he grew older, so she had access to everything.

When he died, she didn’t report it to his workplace, so the government kept paying his salary for over a year, and she was secretly withdrawing and spending the money. They eventually found out and stopped the payments. I didn’t even know that was happening — it was when I tried to process the pension that his office demanded we refund the overpaid salaries (about ₦600k) before they would release his pension clearance.

We tried to take the issue to court, but the woman vanished. Meanwhile, my mum had fallen severely ill with a chronic leg condition. She hasn’t been able to walk or go to work for two years now, so our finances were completely drained by her hospital runs and expensive medications.

I couldn’t ask my mum for the money, so I took it upon myself to fix it. I turned to loan apps.

Oh no. How bad did it get?

I took a ₦600k loan to pay off the government, fully expecting my dad’s pension to be released in a month or two, so I could pay it back. But the back and forth dragged on.

Because I didn’t have a stable salary, I couldn’t meet the payment deadlines, and the interest rates compounded aggressively. To avoid being harassed, I started taking loans from other apps to pay off the old ones. It became a vicious cycle. My debt ballooned from ₦600k to ₦1.2 million.

Every single kobo I made from my clothing business and my viral bouquet launch went directly into paying off those apps. I had zero savings. I couldn’t even eat properly because any money that touched my hand immediately went to a loan app. I was living in constant terror.

How did you get out of it?

I started dating my current boyfriend in 2024. At first, I was too ashamed to tell him. But by late 2025, he had noticed something was wrong. One day, he randomly asked me, “Are you owing anyone money?” To this day, he hasn’t told me how he found out.

I had to come clean. By then, I had managed to pay off ₦400k from my business profits, leaving a balance of ₦800k. My boyfriend gave me the balance, and that was how I finally cleared my debt in November 2025. I haven’t touched a loan app since then.

That must have been a huge relief. Where do things stand with your dad’s pension now?

We are still processing it. Just last month, I was asked to submit his obituary and some other documents for verification. Every time I visit their office, the officials come up with a new excuse. Today, they’ll say a letter is missing in a name. Tomorrow, they’ll ask for a new affidavit. It’s exhausting, but I’m pushing.

What does your monthly income look like today?

My clothing and bouquet business brings me about ₦200k monthly. Some months are higher, some are lower. Then my boyfriend gives me a monthly allowance of another ₦200k. That’s usually ₦100k to ₦150k for my hair and maintenance, plus some extra money in between. So on average, my monthly income is ₦400k.

That said, I’m still aggressively job hunting. I recently paid ₦5,000 to join two Telegram channels that post job updates. I apply to four or five jobs every single day, specifically looking for remote customer service or administrative assistant roles. I want a steady, predictable salary of at least ₦500k that allows me to work from home, run my business, and occasionally take on makeup clients. I’ve had a few interviews this month, and I’m hoping something clicks soon.

Rooting for you. Let’s break down your monthly expenses

To be honest, my personal living expenses are really minimal. I don’t spend any money on food because I still live with my mum, and she handles food expenses.

Also, whenever I visit my boyfriend, we eat out, or he handles food. In a month, I probably spend an average of ₦300k on data, personal maintenance, outings with friends, some savings, and maybe restocking once in a while.

You mentioned savings. How’s that going?

I think the trauma of being in debt and watching my mum’s illness drain our family’s finances has made me really scared of being broke. I never want to be caught unprepared by an emergency or be in a situation where I don’t have money.

Right now, I have a strict savings plan. I save ₦2,000 daily and have another ₦50k locked monthly in a separate account. Whenever money enters my hand, I try to save something out of it. Since I started this in January, I’ve managed to save ₦850k. My goal is to hit ₦5 million by the end of the year.

I really regret only starting to take savings and money seriously this year. I should have started earlier and would be in a better financial position by now.

What do you think you could have done differently?

I should have been more business-oriented in school. If I had built my makeup client base and consistently run my clothing business while in school, I would be so far ahead by now.

Uni is the easiest place to find a loyal customer base. Instead, I chose to cruise and enjoy myself with my friends because I was getting money from home. I really think that was my biggest mistake. Now, I have to fight for customers on social media. My boyfriend is very business-minded, though, and he keeps pushing me to record videos and stay consistent. So, I guess I’m on the right path.

What are your plans for the business moving forward?

I’m currently rebranding. I want to move away from modelling the clothes myself, so I plan to invest in mannequins. I’m also in the process of getting a proper studio backdrop or wallpaper for pictures, hangers and signage so I can start restocking and selling in much larger quantities.

Is there anything you want right now but can’t afford?

Probably new mannequins and a studio light for my business, new makeup products because they’re so expensive, and a pair of real gold earrings or a gold necklace.

The gold is mostly to keep as an investment/backup plan. Gold appreciates, so I can sell it if I need to.

How about the last thing you spent money on that made you genuinely happy?

Last month, I spent about ₦150k to buy six new pieces of clothing for myself. That was nice.

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

5. I’m definitely not where I want to be yet, but I’m trying my best. If I can land the remote job I’m currently interviewing for, which pays ₦500k monthly, and combine it with my business income, that number will shoot up to a 10. I’d be really happy.

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

Find all the past Naira Life stories��here.

Subscribe to the newsletter here.

#NairaLife: The 36-Year-Old Chasing a Million-Dollar Dream From a ₦500k/Month Law Practice

Boluwatife Oni — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 06:55:37 +0000

Every week,��è��Ƶ seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.

What’s your earliest memory of money?

I attended a primary school that forbade students from buying snacks during break time. My parents would give my siblings and me money to buy our snacks before getting to the school gate. I also often got money gifts from relatives and family friends during festive seasons.

I don’t think I ever thought about money seriously until one time in primary school, when I noticed other students were being chased out of school for non-payment of fees.

I couldn’t relate to that because my family had money. I never got chased out, but that’s when I realised money was actually important for things like paying school fees.

Tell me more about your family’s financial situation

My dad was a successful businessman. My mum was a trader whose income contributed very little to the family’s upkeep because my dad’s income covered everything.

We lived in our own story building, and we had tenants. I went to one of the best schools in my state, and we had a driver who took us to and from school. I had everything I needed, really. I can’t remember wanting something and not getting it.

When was the first time you did something to earn money?

Back in secondary school, around JS 3 or SS 1, I helped my physical education teacher sell buns to other students. He didn’t force me to do it; I genuinely enjoyed doing it. The hustle only lasted a term, though, because the school authorities found out and shut it down.

So you didn’t actually do it for money

I honestly didn’t need money for anything. And I didn’t try anything else in secondary school.

I graduated in July 2007. By November of that same year, I was already in a private university studying law. After I wrote JAMB, my dad didn’t want to risk me wasting a year at home because getting public university admission for law is notoriously difficult if you don’t hit the exact cut-off mark, so he just paid for a private university.

What were your finances like in uni?

I received a consistent ₦10k/month pocket money from home the entire time I was there, and it was enough to keep me reasonably comfortable. My parents paid for my major needs directly, so the ₦10k was just for toiletries and minor things. If it finished before the month ended, I’d call home to top up.

I also sold some stuff in uni for a little extra money at some point, but it wasn’t a major entrepreneurial effort, and I honestly can’t remember what it was. I survived on my pocket money 95% of the time.

How about after uni?

I graduated in 2013. I had an extra year because of an issue with a lecturer. After graduating, I stayed home for about a year before getting into law school in 2014. My parents covered 100% of my financial needs throughout law school.

NYSC came next in 2015. I was initially posted to a State Ministry of Justice, but we were doing absolutely nothing there. Out of frustration, I walked into a private law firm and asked to join them. Because I wasn’t officially posted there by the government, they didn’t pay me a salary. They were essentially doing me a favour by letting me stay.

However, whenever I accompanied one of the firm’s lawyers or they sent me on an errand to court, they would give me a stipend of ₦2k to ₦5k. Sometimes, they’d buy me lunch too. The state government also paid corpers a monthly stipend of ₦5k, though it was highly irregular. That was in addition to the federal allawee, which was ₦19,800 back then.

The most money I made during my service year beyond allawee was from a land sale. I served in a Northern town where a neighbour bought a piece of land for ₦100k. I stepped in as his lawyer to draft the land agreement, deed of assignment, and power of attorney. I charged him a 10% professional fee.

It was the very first time I charged for my legal skills. I only made ₦10k, but it felt great.

What came after NYSC?

I moved to another Northern town on the border of Abuja and joined another law firm in the city.

Again, there was no base salary, but I was entitled to appearance fees for every single matter I handled in court, even if I went with my boss. The fees ranged from ₦3k to ₦10k. Because I wasn’t earning a salary, I was always eager to go to court. I was a newbie and desperately wanted to learn. The firm was quite busy because my boss was an established lawyer with a solid client base, so I went to court three to four times a week.

How long were you at this job?

A year. I left in December 2017. I wanted to move from the outskirts into Abuja proper because my younger sister had moved there for a job. So, during a case I was handling, I approached the opposing counsel and asked if his firm needed a lawyer. He told me to come to his office for an interview, asked me a series of questions and hired me. I started working there in January 2018.

I pooled funds with my sister to pay for an apartment, and our dad also helped. I think the rent back then was ₦250k. My dad gave us ₦100k. He continued supporting the rent payment for the next few years, but his support ended at rent. No monthly allowance, and I didn’t expect that.

Did this job come with a salary?

Yes. It started at ₦30k/month. It increased from ₦30k to ₦32k in late 2018, then to ₦35k around 2019 or 2020, and finally, to ₦40k in May 2021. I also received appearance fees for office cases, ranging from ₦3k to ₦10k.

The biggest game-changer was that my boss encouraged me to run my private legal practice alongside my office work. 2018 was the year I truly started earning freelance money from law.

How did you find private clients as a young lawyer?

Purely through referrals.

In our profession, we aren’t allowed to advertise. It’s not like now, when social media is opening things up. Back then, it was strictly about delivery. If I handled a matter for a client, and they were satisfied with the job, they would refer their friends and family to me.

My income from private practice fluctuated a lot, though. Some months, it was ₦80k. Other months, it was over ₦100,000. On a few good occasions, it crossed ₦200k.

And how were things going at the firm?

There was a persistent issue with office expenses. I would frequently use my personal funds to cover upfront office expenses with the promise of reimbursement. But when I submitted my bills, it would turn into a long talk. My boss would claim he had already given me money for things he hadn’t actually paid for.

When I looked at the situation, the ₦40k salary wasn’t even covering my basic transportation and living expenses. I was essentially paying to work, and the trust was gone. I resigned in October 2021.

What did you do next?

I had already registered my own law firm in 2020, so the plan was to stay in private practice. But I briefly joined a friend’s law firm in January 2022.

They paid me about ₦50k monthly, but there was absolutely nothing to do there. I would go to the office, sit down alone, and face an empty desk. I didn’t want just to collect a salary for doing nothing, so I resigned in March 2022.

Since then, I’ve been on my own.

What has your income been like since going solo?

It is wildly unstable. These days, my monthly income typically ranges between ₦300k and ₦500k. But there are months I make like ₦200k, and months I make as high as ₦600k or ₦800k, or even over ₦1 million.

95% of this income still comes from referrals and existing clients. I’ve probably only mentioned my work in my WhatsApp status about five times.

Do you ever experience zero-income months?

A dry spell is rare, but it happens. This January (2026) was rough. I didn’t make up to ₦100k, which has never happened before. Thankfully, things picked up in February. There’s almost always something coming in.

What kind of lifestyle does your income afford?

₦100k often feels like ₦10k. I live in a wealthy area of Abuja, so my income only covers the basics: food, toiletries, and utilities.

I mostly work from home, making phone calls and drafting documents, so I save on daily commuting. But solo practice means my savings are irregular. I can go a week without making anything substantial, and when a big chunk of money finally enters my hand, I end up spending it to cover the backlogged expenses I deferred during the dry days.

I’m comfortable enough to eat and buy clothes occasionally, but I can’t hang out or have a social life. If I want anything extraordinary, I have to meticulously plan and save toward it.

How do you handle expenses like rent? Do you still share with your sister?

My sister relocated out of the country in 2018, so I’ve been paying 100% of the rent on my own. A friend moved in with me some months ago. She just got a job late last month, but for now, I am the breadwinner covering all our feeding, electricity, and household expenses.

My biggest saving grace is my landlord. He is an incredibly considerate person. He only increased my rent slightly for the first time last year. Right now, I pay ₦500k/year for a self-contained apartment in a secure, gated estate. To put that in perspective, other old tenants in my estate pay nothing less than ₦800k, and new tenants moving in are paying ₦1.4 million. I am incredibly lucky.

Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

What does your savings portfolio look like?

I have about $300+ in US stocks. The value of the naira can drop at any time, so saving in a stable currency is the logical option for me. I’d love to diversify into money market funds and bonds, but I don’t have sufficient capital for that yet. I bought a piece of land in 2023 for ₦1.2 million, which literally used up all my savings at the time.

The beautiful and terrifying thing about law is its unpredictable nature. You could have zero naira in your account today, and tomorrow a single brief turns you into a multi-millionaire. I’m optimistic about hitting that net worth soon. In fact, I have a strong conviction that I’ll be wealthy. When that time comes, I’ll invest heavily in real estate and expansion.

Where does this strong conviction come from?

A quiet, persistent voice inside me tells me I am going to be incredibly wealthy. I don’t necessarily mean having billions in dollars, but at least millions. The kind of wealth where I can fly first class, go on luxury vacations, and fund major charity projects without blinking or losing sleep.

To prepare for that, I constantly invest in my academic upgrades and certifications because you never know where an opportunity will come from. I also rely heavily on my soft skills. I am excellent at maintaining relationships. I have friendships that have lasted over 20 years. People buy into who you are before they do business with you. I believe I have what it takes to become a multi-millionaire.

Do you see this wealth coming entirely from your law practice?

It will be a mix of law, strategic investments, and business. Law itself is a business, though many lawyers don’t treat it that way. I have a strong inclination toward entrepreneurship. I can’t pinpoint the exact industry yet because I have a lot of ideas floating around, but I know I will run a highly successful business in the near future.

I don’t plan to return to paid employment. The only exception I’d make is a short-term advisory contract, like three to six months, or a year at most. But permanent employment? I’m completely done with it.

How would you describe your relationship with money?

I’d say I have a good relationship with money. I’m not where I need to be financially, but I understand that money is just a tool to get the good things in life. So, I treat it that way. I don’t have a lot of it right now, but I always channel it to the right use, and I don’t regret any expense.

Is there an ideal amount you think you should be earning monthly?

Nothing less than ₦2 million. Even that figure should be in a bad month. It should be ₦2 million and above.

How about something you want right now but can’t afford?

A lot of things. I can’t casually buy a new car right now. I can’t afford a luxury vacation outside the country. But I know these things won’t be a problem for me in the near future.

I’m curious: How has the shift from growing up rich to grinding on your own affected you?

My dad was rich, but I wouldn’t say I was rich personally. They never gave me a ton of money; I just had enough to get by.

Looking back at where my parents were at my age, my dad had already built houses, my mum already had kids, and they were very comfortable. Looking at where I am now, it’s not something that makes me feel great, but I try not to dwell on it. I have a functioning practice, and I am putting in the work.

Do you still have a safety net at home?

Yes, and I am deeply grateful for it. When I had that terrible dry spell in January and made less than ₦100k, my family completely stepped in and carried me.

Right now, I want to upgrade my phone to a higher Samsung model. My brother in the UK is covering a significant fraction of the cost and bringing it home for me next month. My sister takes care of my clothes and toiletries. Earlier this year, my dad actually asked me if I wanted to relocate abroad, and if I had said yes, he would have funded 80% of it.

Why did you turn down the offer to relocate?

I don’t see myself living abroad permanently. I want to explore the world, but Nigeria is a beautiful place to live if you have money. Abuja is an incredible city if your finances are right.

As a lawyer, moving abroad means starting my career at the very bottom of the ladder. I don’t have the energy for that struggle again. I’d rather build my practice here, take on foreign gigs when they come, do short-term studies abroad, and come back. When the major money comes, I can just acquire citizenship by investment and travel effortlessly without the trauma of starting over from rock bottom.

How often do you lean on this safety net?

Hardly ever. I am fiercely independent, and my siblings know me for that. Since 2021, I have not asked my dad for a single kobo. Instead, I give him gifts during festive periods and on his birthdays, and I send my mum a stipend. I pride myself on standing on my own feet.

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

5. I don’t have to beg anybody to eat. My income covers my food, clothing, and shelter. I can afford the basics of life without compromising my dignity, and that’s something I am deeply grateful for.

What would make that number a 10?

Earning millions every single month. When I reach a point where I am bringing in ₦2 million, ₦5 million, or ₦10 million monthly, then it becomes a 10. At that level, everything I’ve been longing to do for myself and others will happen effortlessly.

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

Find all the past Naira Life stories��here.

Subscribe to the newsletter here.

“She Secretly Used My Card” — 8 Nigerian Men Share Their Most Financially Demanding Relationships

Boluwatife Oni — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 12:03:41 +0000

Love may not cost a thing, but dating certainly does. From the girlfriends who treated their partners’ salaries like joint accounts to those who brought endless financial emergencies, these eight Nigerian men share the most financially demanding relationships they’ve ever been in, and the expensive lessons they learned from them.

**“She used my card without telling me” — Ray*, 29**

An ex-girlfriend secretly used my debit card details for months. I’d given it to her to pay for a subscription and forgot about it. Because of the nature of my work, I’m constantly getting bank alerts, so I don’t really pay attention to debits below ₦20k.

One day, while trying to trace a transaction, I noticed a consistent ₦10k debit that amounted to about ₦700k. Believing my card had been compromised, I told my babe what I noticed, and she said, “Oh. I made those purchases.” When I asked why she’d do that without telling me, she looked confused and asked, “But isn’t your money our money?”

We had been dating for five months.

**“She wanted me to spend ₦300k on her birthday” — Ibrahim*, 26**

My last relationship was with a girl who claimed her love language was “receiving gifts and money.” At first, I gave her gifts and sent her the random ₦5k once in a while, as is my habit when I love someone. However, she began measuring my love solely by money. If I sent her ₦5k this week, and sent nothing the following week, she’d say she wasn’t feeling loved.

The moment I knew I was done was when she sent me a PDF list of things she wanted for her birthday. It was a full list with prices and links to Instagram vendor pages. The total was over ₦300k. That’s the same amount I pay for rent.

**“I dated an ‘upcoming baddie’” — Ayo*, 25**

When I was a stupid 19-year-old undergraduate, I dated an upcoming baddie whose role models were Instagram big girls. She kept trying to imitate their lifestyles, and I suffered for it. Every outing we went on had to be an “aesthetic place.” I even scammed my dad of ₦100k to celebrate Valentine’s Day at a hotel because of that girl.

We eventually broke up after she found an actual rich kid who didn’t have to scam his parents to give her the lifestyle she wanted. Wherever you are, Chioma*, my God will judge you.

**“She was a student” — Chinedu*, 31**

I dated someone who was still in university while I had a full-time job. Because I was earning a salary, most expenses automatically became my responsibility. From handout costs to food and data needs, I was somehow involved in everything.

We dated for two years, and I spent at least ₦15k every week helping her with one thing or another. When she graduated, I gave her ₦50k for her photoshoot. We eventually drifted apart after her uncle sponsored her to join his family abroad.

Looking back, I spent more money in that relationship than I was actually comfortable with.

**“She was constantly starting businesses” — Gbenga*, 34**

My most financially demanding relationship was with a woman who constantly started businesses. Every two or three months, she’d tell me about a new idea that was guaranteed to “change her life,” and I’d try my best to be a supportive boyfriend.

We dated for two years, and I financially supported six businesses during that time. She tried everything from perfumes to thrifting to skincare. None survived longer than four months. I still have cartons of unsold detox tea in my house from one of her failed businesses.

**“She was constantly billing me” — Mike*, 31**

My last serious girlfriend used to literally spend my salary with me. Once I got paid, she’d suddenly remember she needed money to do her hair or sort out some emergency that always appeared from nowhere.

One month, I decided to lie. I claimed that my salary was delayed and that I was broke. She showed up at my house with food because, according to her, she wanted to console me so I wouldn’t think about money too much. The moment she realised I’d actually been paid, she asked me for ₦100k before leaving the next morning. I gave it to her.

**“Her family problems were too much” — Paul*, 28**

My ex-girlfriend wasn’t actually the problem. It was her family. She had a sickle cell sibling, and her retired dad had suffered a stroke and couldn’t walk properly. Every few weeks, there always seemed to be a crisis that needed financial assistance.

I really loved her, so I tried to stick around for the first few months and help when I could. But after I took out a ₦250k loan to help her with a hospital bill, I realised I couldn’t continue like that for the rest of my life. I didn’t even break up with her. I just ghosted her. How do you tell someone you don’t want to date again because of her family’s problems?

**“She was like a monitoring spirit” — Dele*, 27**

The reason I can’t cohabit with a woman again is because of Mary*, the last girlfriend who lived with me. That girl drained me. She was like a monitoring spirit; she knew the second money entered my account and always made sure I spent it on her.

Before we started living together, I used to save ₦100k monthly. When she moved in, I couldn’t save again. It got to a point where I’d “borrow” money from her to give her. Like she could ask me for money for hair, if I didn’t have it, she’d offer to use her own money and then disturb me to pay her back. We lived together for a year, and that was the brokest I’ve ever been.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: “₦700k Vanished From My Account” — Nigerians Share Their Most Traumatic Money Experiences

Boluwatife Oni, Author at ��è��Ƶ!

Love Currency: “He Thinks Women Shouldn’t Work, but I Can Change Him”

How long have you been with your partner?

How did you meet?

What changed your mind?

So, what has five-ish months of dating been like?

Is it safe to assume you’re both transparent with your finances?

What kind of money conversations do you and David have?

Did he say why he’s against married women working?

Hmmm. Is his stance against work a deal-breaker for you?

All the best. How do dating expenses like dates and gifts work in your relationship?

Do you both have financial safety nets?

What’s the ideal financial future you’d like for you and David?

Get More ��è��Ƶ Goodness in Your Mail

#NairaLife: The Frugal Investor Who’s Making Sure She’s Never at Anyone’s Mercy Again

What’s your earliest memory of money?

Do you remember what you did with the money?

What happened?

How was Abuja?

What did you meet when you returned to Lagos?

What was the job like?

What was the situation like back in the village?

How were you surviving financially in school?

What came next?

I get it. When did you finally get your own?

Did she bring you back?

Really?

Were you saving towards a specific goal?

Let’s get back to your job. You mentioned leaving in 2022

What was the new job?

You moved from ₦45k to ₦200k in about three years. How does that feel?

Tell me about these side hustles

That’s a sizeable number of side hustles

You mentioned being big on investments. What does your portfolio look like?

I’m curious. Is there any legal structure around this? Like, if you ever need to prove your money is with her

What do those portfolios look like now?

Let’s break down your typical monthly expenses

How would you describe your relationship with money?

Do you think your attitude to money somewhat ties back to your family’s financial crash?

Is there an ideal amount of money you think you should be earning monthly?

What was the last thing you spent money on that made you genuinely happy?

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

What would make it a 10?

Get More ��è��Ƶ Goodness in Your Mail

A Dress Mishap at 16 Inspired Oluwasewa Akinrimisi to Build a Global Fashion Brand

The three-month apprentice

The Ikorodu bottleneck and the room that blew up

From runway losses to Vogue pages

Going fully global

The currency of value

Get More ��è��Ƶ Goodness in Your Mail

#NairaLife: He Once Lived on Exam Fraud. Now, He’s Trying to Clean Up His Act With Stocks

What’s your earliest memory of money?

And you didn’t “chop” the money?

What was the financial situation at home like back then?

When did you start earning your own money?

Why did you take a job at that age?

What did you do with your daily ₦500?

Phew. Did you try anything else for money in secondary school?

What did you do?

Wait. How?

What did you find?

How did you manage work and your exams?

What was the plan?

Did she increase your salary for the double role?

Get More ��è��Ƶ Goodness in Your Mail

How long did you stay at the school?

How did you fund your education?

As in, writing exams for other people?

Interesting

Why?

What came next?

What do you do now?

What kind of lifestyle does your income afford you?

Let’s break that down for a typical month

What exactly do you invest in?

How would you describe your relationship with money?

Out of curiosity, do you have a net worth goal?

Billion?

Is there anything you want right now but cannot afford?

**“I became the ‘man of the house’ at 19” — Jamal*, 29**

**“I’ve inherited my dad’s responsibilities” — Jeremiah*, 26**

**“40% of my salary goes to black tax” — Ben*, 28**

**“I’m not the firstborn, but since I’m a man, there are expectations” — Kingsley*, 29**

**“I provide for my sister and her baby” — Mike*, 27**

**“I can’t wait to have the final say on my own money” — Caleb*, 22**

**“It’s hard, but I’m glad I can support my family” — Nonso*, 35**