Mental health struggles are complex, and for many Nigerians, the country’s financial state worsens their mental health.Here are five Nigerians who suffered severe mental health crises due to financial pressure and the poor state of the economy, and what thankfully made them choose to stay.

鈥淒ead people don鈥檛 pay bills鈥� 鈥� Nafisa*, F, 26, Lagos. 

I鈥檝e always had financial anxiety. Even when I was steadily earning 鈧�200k/month, the state of the country would make me panic about how much I had and if it would be enough to keep me alive.

Then I lost my steady job earlier this year when the company I worked for pulled out of the country. So now I鈥檓 a freelance makeup artist, earning 鈧�100k-鈧�200k per job. Technically, I can potentially earn more now, but my income is unstable, and I only get one or two makeup jobs a month. So, the way I see it, I鈥檓 basically jobless.

I have to think about my 鈧�1.2 million/year rent, amongst other expenses. Because of this, I isolate myself, afraid that if I go out with friends, I鈥檓 wasting money.

 Sometimes, my anxiety gets so bad that I have depressive episodes and nervous breakdowns. I panic, wondering when I鈥檒l next get a makeup gig. I passively consider ending my life. After all, dead people don鈥檛 pay bills, right?

I鈥檓 still here because of my friends. They send me money sometimes and always encourage me. Plus, when I do get a gig, my anxiety temporarily goes away. 

鈥淏eing the man of the house is hard鈥� 鈥� Tobi*, M, 26, Abuja.

My father died of cancer two years ago. Even though we all saw it coming, the grief was overwhelming.

At his funeral, an aunt whispered to me, 鈥淵ou know you鈥檙e now the provider of the family?鈥� It was the first time I had a panic attack.

Even though my mum鈥檚 business is still bringing in a good amount of money, she鈥檚 getting old, and I worry every day about providing for her and my sisters. I earn well at 鈧�600k a month, and I still live at home, but the pressure to be the man of the house is crushing, especially because I鈥檓 still grieving my dad.

I鈥檝e considered ending my life a few times, just in passing, so I can escape the anxiety. But the thought of my little sisters living without me is even more terrifying, and I鈥檓 too scared to go through with it. 

鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to struggle for a life that feels pointless.鈥� 鈥� Ruth*, NB, 22, Lagos.

I left my oppressive parents鈥� house in 2025. They鈥檝e never been supportive and are the most closed-minded people I鈥檝e ever met. I was already considering suicide under their roof, so my options were either to kill myself, steal their money and leave, or run away and thug it out. I chose the last one.

I live alone now, and it鈥檚 difficult to provide for myself. The abuse I endured already made me suicidal, but now, I have times when I spiral really hard and get close to the act. The worst thing for me is struggling so hard for money just to live a pointless life and eventually die.

The main thing keeping me alive is spite. I want to prove to my parents that I鈥檓 better off without them and prove to life that I can do this. It also helps that I have god-tier friends.

鈥淓nding my life felt better than waiting for Nigeria to end it.鈥� 鈥�  Eni*, NB, 25, Lagos.

I moved out of my house earlier this year because my father was abusing me and trying to control my finances. The switch from being taken care of materially to barely being able to eat was terrifying.

At first, I felt very useless. It was hard to feel trapped in my own life, so much so that I could barely afford a crate of eggs. I thought ending my life was better than waiting for Nigeria to end it for me, and I was stuck in this headspace for at least three months.

I never thought of giving myself grace. I was doing my best, working multiple freelance gigs and living frugally, but I blamed my money struggles on not working hard enough, rather than the insane cost of living in Nigeria.

One day, I had to decide that I would not die simply because I didn鈥檛 have the financial freedom I had envisioned for myself as an adult. Also, I now know that life isn鈥檛 just happening to me; I have the power to shape my story. Plus, my friends have come through for me a lot.

鈥淪eeing my husband depressed made me depressed.鈥� 鈥�  Lola*, F, 30,  Ibadan.

In 2020, right after I got married, COVID made my husband lose his job. He was a businessman, but the lockdown made it difficult for him to transport goods and the like. As a teacher earning 鈧�210k/month, I wasn鈥檛 making enough to sustain us. It was a major hit to our finances. It didn鈥檛 help that we were in a lockdown and could do nothing but worry.

My husband became miserable. I鈥檇 never seen that man cry so much. I was always the emotional one, so having my rock break down that way broke me as well.

I would wake up, and my first thought would be to end my life so that my husband could have one less expense to worry about.

I knew these were bad thoughts, so my husband and I began praying every night. It helped to know God was still on the throne.

Eventually, the lockdown lifted, and my husband could continue his business as smoothly as before. I thank God for watching over us at that time.

If you need support, someone to talk to, or immediate help, these Nigerian mental health resources may help.

Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) 鈥� Youth-focused mental health support.

| Crisis support: +234 916 841 7413

Blueroomcare 鈥� Affordable online therapy.

| +234 901 667 9754

SURPIN 鈥� Suicide prevention & crisis intervention.

| 080 0078 7746

READ NEXT: 鈥淚 Wish I Had Done More鈥�: Nigerians On Losing Loved Ones To Mental Health Struggles

Waiting until school fees are due

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Not planning for rising education costs

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Allowing education funds to compete with other priorities

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Treating education planning like ordinary savings

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Leaving education planning too late

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In this story, Chioma recounts how Rachel quietly scammed her over the years, how she tried to take out a loan in Chioma鈥檚 name behind her back, and why 鈥� despite this being the worst betrayal Chioma had ever gone through 鈥� she still forgave Rachel in the end.

This is Chioma鈥檚 story, as told to Azara.

In 2023, the person I considered my closest friend tried to take a loan from my account behind my back.

You can鈥檛 imagine what it was like to have discovered that while studying for an important test.

An email notification popped up on my laptop mid-study, and I had to stop everything to see who had tried to steal 鈧�15k from a broke 20-year-old third-year student.

It wasn鈥檛 a random thief or a stranger. It was my friend, Rachel.

I met Rachel three years before that incident, and up until then, she was one of my favourite people in the entire world.

We met the way most people in university do: in class. To be honest, that鈥檚 how my main friend group formed. We all happened to sit beside each other, and we made each other laugh, Rachel more than the rest.

She was funny, and I liked funny people. But beyond that, she seemed generous. She was the only one of us living off campus at the time, and every morning she greeted us with homemade cupcakes鈥攕omething we couldn鈥檛 easily get in the hostel. I remember times when she offered to get me things or helped me with schoolwork, even when I didn鈥檛 ask. 

We became friends quickly. She was just so friendly and fit into our group. When she finally moved on campus a few months later and joined the same hostel my friends and I stayed in, we felt complete. 

But I would be lying if I said things were perfect. 

Rachel was struggling, or at least, that鈥檚 what she told us. She talked a lot about her abusive father and how part of that abuse was withholding money. She would spend days crying to us, saying he only gave her a 鈧�5k monthly allowance. She even showed me an alert that confirmed this once.

But then the story would shift depending on her mood. Sometimes, she would tell us he sent her 鈧�100k a week, or that he was a millionaire with two houses. I should have suspected something was wrong, but I brushed it off as her just getting excited and telling stories.

I also brushed off the fact that she often asked for money. It was usually small amounts;  鈧�2k to pay for snacks here, 鈧�3k to pay for her food there. She would follow anyone who was buying something, claim her card wasn鈥檛 working or that she hadn鈥檛 brought it, and then ask them to pay, promising to pay it back. She never did.

鈥淢y bank transfers aren鈥檛 working.鈥� She would lie if we asked for the money she owed. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 have network. I鈥檒l transfer later.鈥� She would promise, until 鈥渓ater鈥� became never.

 She once said she went to the bank, where they showed her a list of all the transfers she鈥檇 made that hadn鈥檛 worked, so she had to approve them there.

Those 鈥渁pproved transfers鈥� never went through.

We let it go because these weren’t big purchases, but looking back, maybe that emboldened her to do worse. 

Rachel once lied to a friend that she was selling jeans. This friend paid her 鈧�20,000, but Rachel never delivered the jeans. She borrowed 鈧�10,000 from another friend when they went to a movie and used it to pay for two tickets. Another time, she promised to get a friend a 鈧�5,000 dress for a birthday, but the day passed, and no dress arrived.

She also scammed school staff. She would buy things at our hostel shop on credit and lie to me that she had paid for them. But when I went to do my own shopping, the woman at the counter would beg me to talk to Rachel, saying she had even blocked her because she kept asking for her money.

There was always an excuse; either there was a transfer error, or her bank was terrible. It was never Rachel鈥檚 fault. 

Still, I believed her. She was good at using her alleged trauma to sway you, and at the time, I鈥檇 believed things simply didn鈥檛 work out for her. How was I supposed to keep asking for money from someone with an abusive father, or 鈥� as she鈥檇 once told us 鈥� someone with diabetes 鈥渋n the red zone鈥� who needed extra money to specialise her diet? In hindsight, I never saw her take medicine or actually change her eating habits.

I must have been naive because by 2023, animosity had spread through the friend group without my knowledge, and it all came to light over a hoodie.

A friend was having a birthday, and Rachel had volunteered to have a specialised hoodie made for her. Excitedly, we all sent Rachel between 鈧�2,000 and 鈧�3,000. Altogether, we gave Rachel about 鈧�15k to pay for this hoodie.

But weeks passed, and every time someone followed up, Rachel would get sad and say that the Instagram vendor had scammed her, that she was begging the woman to return the money, and that she didn鈥檛 know what to do.

Some of my friends got fed up and begged her to tell the truth, but Rachel stuck to her story.

Eventually, my friend鈥檚 birthday passed, and in anger, she messaged the Instagram vendor Rachel claimed had scammed her, but the confused seller said Rachel had inquired about buying a hoodie and then never followed up. She even took a screenshot of their chat, which proved she鈥檇 never been sent any money.

I didn鈥檛 know any of this was going on until my roommate sat me down that night and explained that Rachel was a thief and a liar.

Rachel? My Rachel? Who always seemed eager to help and opened up to everyone with so much ease? I believed my roommate, but still, still, I wanted to give grace. 

At this point, Rachel had gone home for the weekend, and the tension in our friend group had escalated to the point where people were blocking her. We needed a spokesperson to confront her, so I was assigned the duty.

At first, I tried to understand her, but Rachel maintained her innocence and claimed people were just not being nice.

Around this time, I got an email saying she鈥檇 been trying to take a loan from me.

Shock does not do justice to what I felt. I had a test to think about, all my friends were mad at her, and here I was, trying to be the voice of understanding. Yet, that girl was actively trying to steal from me.

I only found out because she had logged into her email on my laptop and didn鈥檛 log out. I saw that she鈥檇 tried to secure the 鈧�15k loan from my bank account, but it didn鈥檛 work because she didn鈥檛 know my PIN. 

Numbly, I packed up my laptop, left the library and walked to my hostel.

I showed my roommate the email, and everything fell apart.

When I texted Rachel to ask her about the loan, she pretended like she didn鈥檛 know what I was talking about. Only after I showed her the email did she start begging. She said she just needed money because people were angry at her for the other loans she had, and that it was the devil.

At the same time, another friend, who Rachel owed 鈧�20,000, was asking for her money. Rachel sent her a picture of an ATM stand, claiming she was trying to send the money. My friend thought the picture seemed fishy.

Sure enough, after a Google reverse image search, we discovered Rachel had gotten the picture from the internet.

Everyone was enraged. We created a group and a spreadsheet to tally up all the money she owed us. Aside from the snacks, the staff debt, and other scams we didn’t know about, Rachel owed us 鈧�65k.

I鈥檇 never been so hurt in my life, and I never felt more like a fool. How could I have been the last to see this happening?

The next day 鈥� the day before our test 鈥� 12 of us gathered Rachel in a classroom for what was meant to be a peaceful intervention. But as we started talking, we learnt that scamming wasn鈥檛 her only crime.

She lied about all of us. Sometimes, she would use one friend鈥檚 name to cover up a scam she committed against another.

One girl in particular, Hamzat*, wasn鈥檛 even part of our group, but Rachel went to complain to her that we were ganging up on her and wanted to hurt her. On the flip side, Rachel told us this same Hamzat had sex with strangers on her prayer mat and was trying to pimp her (Rachel) out to older men. 

When Hamzat saw us that day and confronted us, the truth came flying out, shattering the idea of a 鈥減eaceful鈥� intervention.

People were yelling and threatening Rachel. Hamzat nearly slapped her, and it got so bad that the school security had to separate us.

In the end, we told Rachel that she either repaid all she owed us or we would take the matter to student affairs.

To cut a long story short, she got her aunt to settle the loans. She tried to apologise, but by this point, everyone was fed up. Not only did she refuse to take full accountability, but she also went as far as telling curious strangers that 40 of us ganged up on her and beat her up.

My response to her apology text was that she was a bitch who would burn in hell.

The story spread throughout the school, and by the end of the school year, nearly everyone was aware of it. 

It was an odd rest of the school year. Most days, I woke up enraged, thinking of how Rachel had played in my face. On other days, I felt sad for her. How could she have fallen so low?

We all graduated and left school in 2024.

Today, I鈥檓 still friends with that friend group. I love them to bits, but I still felt a lot of anger toward Rachel that I needed to let go of. And so, sometime last year, I reached out to her.

I asked if she was okay, and I told her that I鈥檇 let go of what happened between us. Minutes later, she responded, saying she was sorry and wished she could’ve apologised in person.

Because of this, and because so much time had passed, I let it go. I do hope she鈥檚 okay and has worked through whatever issues she has.

Oh, and by the way, I did pass that test.

NEXT READ: I Was Nearly Scammed in Nigeria, but I Still Think the Country Is Extremely Efficient

In this story, Dr Anna talks about her Jamaican upbringing, being paid to do a six-year PhD, the three chaotic months she spent homeless in Lagos that nearly led to her being scammed, and why, even after experiencing 鈥渟hege鈥� in Nigeria, she still believes it is one of the most efficient places she’s ever lived.

This is Dr Anna’s story, as told to Azara.

鈥淭his place is chaotic.鈥�

That was my first thought when I arrived in Lagos, Nigeria, in September 2020.

But who can blame me? It was my first time moving to the country, and after 18 hours of travel and 10 suitcases in tow, I arrived with no visa and no clear idea where to go. After three hours spent sorting out my visa, I arrived at a hotel room that turned out to be too small for my luggage. 

How did I end up in Nigeria in the first place? For one, it wasn鈥檛 for a lack of options.

I was born and raised in New Kingston, which is basically Jamaica鈥檚 version of Lagos鈥檚 Victoria Island. My family was comfortably middle-class. We travelled on most holidays, I went to some of the best schools, and we lived in an apartment building with a big pool in the backyard.

By 2006, at the age of 17, I had earned a scholarship to attend Stanford University. It covered my tuition, room, and board, everything I needed to complete a bachelor’s with honours in Economics in 2010. 

Fast forward to 2011, I got a job as an economics researcher under a former prime minister of Jamaica. It paid around 2.5 million Jamaican dollars a year ($30,000) and was one of the best jobs I ever had. It gave me a sense of purpose.

By 2013, I wanted to continue my education, so I opted for a fully funded PhD from Northwestern University in the United States, where I studied Learning Sciences. The stipend was about $2,000/month, but because I was a competitive student, I negotiated it up to $2,500/month. I graduated in 2019.

When the offer to run a VC-funded foundation in Nigeria came up, I took it. I was ready for a new challenge and tired of America. I knew that social impact work in Nigeria, as complex as its society and economy are, would be a great training ground for the work I wanted to do in Jamaica later on. I knew the connection I made there would be important. 

My friends have described me as crazy before. They think I do things on a whim, and I don鈥檛 always have a plan. But I do. They may have some gaps, but my plans are solid. I believe the rest will figure itself out. 

Standing in the Lagos airport that day 鈥� September 14, 2020 鈥� to start a job as the Director of Impact and Research at a brand-new foundation, I was sure I had made the right decision. 

I spent two weeks living out of a hotel, and then the house hunting began. 

I hopped between Airbnbs for the three months I spent house-hunting. Some of these apartments were in areas that, in hindsight, I never should have been staying in. I stayed in apartments where the tap water ran yellow. It wasn鈥檛 safe at all. I think that was the first time I actually considered leaving Nigeria. 

The house-hunting was even worse. Every time I found a beautiful apartment, it would get scooped up before we could pay. And my desperation almost got me scammed. 

I wanted this beautiful, airy, open 3-bedroom apartment in a high-rise building. Come to find out, the agent recommended to me didn鈥檛 have the authority to represent the landlord. In fact, he was trying to collect 10% rather than the usual 5% agent fee. That should have been a red flag, but in my desperation, I overlooked it. 

I was 30 minutes away from transferring company money when, thankfully, someone in my office pointed out the deal鈥檚 sketchy nature, and I reluctantly let the apartment go. 

A few weeks later, I finally found my current apartment. It was slightly over the 鈧�4 million – 鈧�4.5 million/year budget, but I was just glad to put house-hunting behind me. 

My problems didn鈥檛 end with housing.

Work was another kind of adjustment. I came from professional environments where I had been rewarded for being direct, asking difficult questions, and saying exactly what I thought. In Nigeria, I quickly learned that being right was not always enough. How you communicated mattered. Relationships mattered. Respect, hierarchy, and recognition often carried meanings I did not yet understand.

At first, I found some of this frustrating. I thought the quality of the work should speak for itself. But Nigeria taught me that work never exists outside of people, and people need to feel seen, respected, and included. I did not become less direct, but I became more discerning about when to speak, how to say what needed to be said, and what might be happening beneath the surface of a professional interaction.

By 2022, I was also becoming clearer about the kind of career and life I wanted. I did not want my future to depend entirely on one employer, one country, or one traditional career path. So I left the foundation and moved into fractional strategic consulting. I get to continue earning in USD while living in Lagos. 

Earning in a stronger currency while living in Nigeria gave me more room to save, experiment, and begin building a life with greater freedom.

And to this day, despite the mess of it all, Nigeria is still one of the most efficient places I鈥檝e ever lived. 

I know it鈥檚 surprising to say that, but “efficient” is really the best word to use. In Chicago, finding clothes was such a hassle, especially for thick-thighed women, but over here, I can have clothes made and sent to me in two days. Sellers follow up if I haven鈥檛 bought, and it鈥檚 all via text, from delivery to the door. The indifference from other countries is so glaring compared to Nigerian eagerness. 

And for a foreigner like me, who speaks English as I do, I get my Nigerian friends to help me negotiate costs. I have to. My accent adds another 鈧�50k in some cases.

Last year, I threw a birthday beach party in Ilashe, and the cost of renting a boat for 20 people was close to 鈧�1 million, so I went to a friend who knew people who rented boats and asked him for help. He negotiated it down to 鈧�320,000 for a 10-seater boat. And we used his boat to take the other 10 people. 

Domestic care is also incredible here. In Chicago, I cooked and cleaned for myself every day. But not here. I can afford to outsource cooking, cleaning, and walking my dog. It gives me so much more time to 鈥� work. 

And then there鈥檚 the food. In the States, food can be quite expensive, and in Jamaica, the prices are not that different if I鈥檓 eating where I really want to eat.  Lagos is a lot more affordable. Meals that cost about 鈧�20k here could cost roughly 鈧�30k – 鈧�40k back home. 

Nigeria isn鈥檛 perfect; I鈥檝e had to fire a cleaner for chronic lateness, and it’s still so jarring that a traffic light at a major intersection will sometimes just not work. Still, the speed of business and Nigeria鈥檚 affordability are unmatched. 

I know that earning in US dollars has made this life more accessible to me. It has allowed me to save more intentionally, invest in my ideas, and imagine possibilities that did not feel available earlier in my career.

I still want to experience more of the continent. My dream is to create satellite homes across Africa. Places with more beautiful places and people to work with. There is so much we can do as a black family, and by that I mean a Global Black family. Kingston will always be home, and Lagos has become another kind of home. I am grateful.

READ NEXT: #NairaLife: He Made Millions From Crypto and Invested It In a Cab Business. Then Everything Crashed

But one thing we never see talked about is how terrible our Nolly leads can be at making financial choices.

Here are some of your favorite Nollywood leads and the questionable financial decisions that set their lives off course.

Eniola Salami 鈥� King of Boys

Eniola鈥檚 (Sola Sobowale) rags-to-riches story is one of Nollywood鈥檚 greatest (ignoring her cr!minal activity, of course). But her downfall began when she used her wealth to bankroll a political ally, triggering government investigations that threatened her empire.

Efe Edewor 鈥�To Kill a Monkey

At first, Efe (William Benson) joined his friend鈥檚 crime syndicate to pull his family out of poverty. But once the money started flowing, he didn鈥檛 stop. Thanks to his greed, he eventually loses all the people he was fighting for in the first place.

Quam Omole 鈥� Quam鈥檚 Money

Quam (Falz) is a security guard turned overnight millionaire. In a too-good-to-be-true deal, Quam 鈥渋nvests鈥� 鈧�500 million, subsequently losing all his riches in what is, of course, a scam.

Andy 鈥� Sugar Rush

When the Sugar sisters stumble upon $800,000 that isn’t theirs, Sola’s boyfriend, Andy, decides the smartest move is to quietly steal some of the cash for himself rather than stick with the plan. The cost is high: his life.

Chief Beecroft 鈥� Chief Daddy

Chief Beecroft (Taiwo Obileye) was generous, but he was a terrible financial planner. Leaving behind a stupidly vague will, the chief leaves his dysfunctional family fighting over his massive wealth.

Zuri 鈥� The Smart Money Woman

Zuri (Osas Ighodaro) earns 鈧�600k/month. By Nigerian metrics, she is a high earner. However, her designer lifestyle massively outpaces her income, and soon she鈥檚 drowning in debt.

READ NEXT: The Most Expensive Gifts Nigerian Pastors Have Ever Received

From private jets to mansions, these six Nigerian mega-pastors have been recipients of mega gifts from those thankful for their divine service.

Bishop David Oyedepo – approx. 鈧�800m鈥撯偊1bn each 

For his 70th birthday in 2024, Bishop Oyedepo was gifted two brand new Rolls-Royce Cullinans by his 鈥渟piritual sons,鈥� including Bishop David Ibiyeomie and Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo.

Pastor Jerry Eze – approx. 鈧�500 million 

Just last month, Nigerian socialite Obi Cubana gifted his longtime friend and pastor, Jerry Eze, a 鈧�500 million mansion to celebrate the pastor鈥檚 44th birthday. 

Bishop Tom Samson 鈥� approx. 鈧�132.8 million 

In 2016, Bishop Samson was gifted a 2014 Rolls-Royce Phantom for his 50th birthday by his organising committee and congregation. 

Pastor Ayo Oritsejafor 鈥� approx. 鈧�769.3 million 

In 2012, pastor Oritsejafor was presented with a pre-owned Bombardier Challenger 601 private jet for his birthday. The money for the gift was crowd-funded by his congregation.聽

Pastor Biodun Fatoyinbo 鈥� approx. 鈧�1.5 billion 

In 2025, pastor Fatoyinbo celebrated his 50th birthday and received a Rolls-Royce from his 鈥渟piritual sons.鈥� The pastor called this gift a consequence of his own gift-giving.聽

Pastor David Ibiyeomie 鈥� 鈥渕illions of naira鈥� 

In 2021, Pastor Ibiyeomie revealed that Pastor Komaiya gifted him 12 cars in 12 months and a luxury wristwatch. Ibiyeomie said they were worth millions of naira.聽

READ NEXT: Love Currency: 鈥淚 Blamed Him for My Failed Japa Plans, and Nearly Ruined Our Marriage鈥�

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

How long have you been with your partner?

Tayo and I have been married for a little over four years. But we鈥檝e known each other a long time. We actually met and were in each other鈥檚 circles for about eight years before we got married.

Aw, cute. How did you meet? 

We met on Instagram. I was still in medical school and had posted a poem on my story. Tayo commented on it, then he put me in a group with fellow poets. We weren鈥檛 close in the beginning; I was getting to know other people in the group, just like him. It took about two to three years of being acquaintances before we actually started talking properly, sometime around 2015/2016.

And was that when the love bloomed?

Ha! No. We were still friends, and barely friends even. We’d connect, gist for a bit, forget each other, then reconnect. I schooled outside Lagos, so we didn鈥檛 even see each other physically for a long time. There was even a point in 2020 when we were supposed to meet, but it just didn’t work out. 

Then, in 2021, while I was rounding up medical school, we started talking again properly. We naturally started dating and got married in six months. This was 2022, some months after I graduated from medical school.

Six months?

When you know, you know. I was drawn to his entrepreneurial spirit. He’s from a humble background, and from his student days, he’d already built multiple streams of income for himself: video editing, Photoshop, writing, and poetry. It felt like he acquired a new skill every time I blinked. I liked his ambition.

He’s also just a reliable person. Looking at what he built for himself despite growing up poor, I believed he could give me a secure future. Whatever happened, our family wouldn’t suffer because he’d find a way to take care of us.

He’s published books, done skits, and is always looking out for opportunities. Even before hustle culture was as serious as it is now, he was on top of everything. All this plus our shared love for writing? Of course, I married him.

Before we get to marriage, let鈥檚 talk about how you both navigated money in the dating days.

Very openly, actually. I always knew about gigs he landed, even if I didn鈥檛 know how much money they brought in, so I had a general sense of what he was working on. 

He took me out often and paid for dates since I’d just left school and wasn’t earning yet. He’d also come over to my place sometimes 鈥� I lived with my parents then 鈥� and I’d cook, make sure there was food and drinks. 

I don鈥檛 know how to ask for things, so it was nice to be given gifts unprompted. The only Valentine’s Day we spent together before getting married, he got me a teddy bear and flowers. I’d never received a Valentine’s gift before that.

Did this extend into your marriage? 

100%. He believes in full transparency and splitting expenses, always saying, 鈥淥ur money is our money.鈥� I share the same belief, and I like our dynamic. We both just sort whatever needs to be taken care of.

Walk me through how you split expenses now.

Tayo handles rent, mostly. He handles our daughter’s school fees, though I chip in sometimes. He takes care of electricity, fuel for the car and generator, and mostly buys the cooking gas. When we go out, at least once a month, it’s roughly a 60/40 split between us, with him chipping in 60%. 

I’m the one who plans and buys food and household stuff, partly because he was a bachelor who lived on ordering food out, so grocery planning was never his instinct. He also sends money for food and randomly sends me gift money, with descriptions like, “For yourself, not the house.”

He also supports my dreams. We both wanted to move to the UK, and we planned to go together. However, that didn鈥檛 work out.

Tell me about that.

I’ve wanted to practise abroad as a doctor since medical school. I took the IELTS in 2022, shortly after we got married, and it cost me 鈧�85k. Then, in 2023, I wrote my 鈥� the first step to practising in the UK. That one cost me 鈧�225k. Tayo supported me through the process. In fact, he reimbursed me 鈧�50k for the IELTS.

I planned to write PLAB 2 (the second phase of the exam) in 2026, as the UK required candidates to pass the second phase within three years of PLAB 1, or the first result would expire. However, in May 2025, I found out the medical council had cut the timeline down to two years. That meant I had less than six months to write an exam that would cost almost 鈧�5 million, including the cost of travel to the UK.

That鈥檚 a lot of money.

Money we didn鈥檛 have. I was earning 鈧�350k/month at the time, and Tayo was earning about 鈧�600k/month from his freelance work, so I thought we could save for the exam that was in 2026. 

But around the time I learned about the revised timeline, our income took a big hit. My husband鈥檚 freelance gigs dried up, and he lost a few other long-term clients at the same time. His income dipped lower than mine, to about 鈧�300k/month. Additionally, our car broke down, so Tayo took out a 鈧�1.5 million loan to fix it. We鈥檙e still repaying it. 

I considered taking out a loan to cover the exam and travel costs, but Tayo was against it.

Did he share why?

He wanted us to try to raise the money ourselves first rather than go into debt, especially because his income was now unstable. We had a family friend who wrote the same exam in 2024 and still hadn’t landed a job in the UK after two years of trying. He didn’t want us in a position where we’d have to repay millions of naira for an exam that might not even lead anywhere for a long time. It felt like too big a risk.

Was the attempt to raise money successful? 

No. I couldn鈥檛 meet the deadline. And it wasn’t just that exam; everything else ended as well. My IELTS expired around the same time, and my international passport expired too. Everything I’d worked toward since medical school seemed to collapse in the same few months.

I鈥檓 so sorry. That must have hurt.

It was one of the worst things that had ever happened to me. I felt like I was watching years of planning go up in flames. This had been my dream for years, and because of one exam, it was suddenly out of reach. 

I understood Tayo鈥檚 point of view, but I was so hurt and very angry at him.

How did this affect your relationship?

It was a really low point in our marriage. That was the only period we鈥檇 ever had actual quarrels over money in the entire relationship. We argued constantly. It was bad. Not to mention that, at some point, we became close to a one-income household, since his gigs had dried up so much. We had to cut down expenses and live on a tight budget. To make ends meet, I stopped saving and fired my housekeeper. Only when the stress got me admitted to the hospital 3 months later did I hire another housekeeper. It was a genuinely tough stretch.

We also communicate differently. I’m the kind of person who broods and overthinks. I need to sit with things alone and cry before I can talk about them. My husband is the opposite. He wants to talk things through right away, because he feels like unspoken things spill into everything else.

So when I finally tried to communicate how hurt I was, I think it came across as me blaming him for not letting me take the loan. And even though I knew, logically, that it wasn’t his fault, because the money genuinely wasn’t there, in that moment, I felt like he hadn’t shown up for me when I needed him most.

Looking back, I think I really hurt him. He would kiss my forehead and try to comfort me when he saw me crying, and beg me, saying, 鈥淚f I had the money, don鈥檛 you think I would have paid for the exam?鈥� But it didn鈥檛 really change how I felt.

That鈥檚 rough. Did you guys get out of this rut?

We were in this weird space for about five months 鈥� starting in March. Eventually, I had to ask myself what else was possible if the UK didn’t happen. In August, I wrote my primaries, a local exam pathway into residency in Nigeria, and passed. It gave me a flicker of hope that I could still have the life I want.

I also had to look at the situation through his eyes: he wanted to help, the intention was always there, but the money just wasn’t coming. Once I stopped centring the UK as the only outcome, I stopped blaming him for it.

He also helped by reminding me of every other way he’d shown up before: paying for study materials, driving me across the country to sort out my passport, and being there through every previous exam. I understood that I鈥檇 forgotten how wonderful he is. 

When you’re in the middle of a hard moment, you forget all the good things from the past.

I鈥檓 glad you guys are back in a good place. Is the UK still your plan?

No. Beyond the money, the UK has also tightened its rules. A new law now prioritises UK graduates for jobs, and residency spots have become much harder to get for international doctors. Starting the whole exam process over again just doesn’t make sense anymore.

So, what’s the plan now? 

Canada. Getting into Canada as a doctor through PR is pretty easy. It鈥檚 when you land that things get harder with multiple exams. It’s less certain than the UK path was, but it now makes sense to both of us. Tayo is on board.

How do you feel about your relationship today? 

We’ve been through good years and hard ones, but we’ve come out closer for it. There’s always been transparency between us, but we’ve had to learn to be even more transparent and understand each other鈥檚 communication styles. 

I don’t know what the future holds, but right now, I know he’s my person. Whether japa works or not, I know Tayo is my future. 

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

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

READ NEXT: 8 Ways University Students Can Get Career-Ready Before Graduation

But to get to the job or career of your dreams, you don鈥檛 need to wait until you鈥檙e handed your diploma. Here are eight things you can do ahead of graduation to strengthen your place in the corporate world. 

Don’t Wait Until Your Final Year

It鈥檚 natural for students to only realise they鈥檙e transitioning into the workforce when they鈥檙e about to graduate, but your CV will look much stronger if you start working toward your career goals right from the jump.

Build Proof Alongside Your CV

Doing internships and part-time jobs to put experience on your CV is great, but companies look for talent alongside experience. Create projects. Write articles. Design things. Build a portfolio that can stand for you after graduating.

Get Really Good At ONE Thing

If you master a high-income skill in the years it takes you to complete your course, you leave school with an advantage that even working-class people don鈥檛 yet have. It makes you a prime canditate for companies.

Network. Network. Network!!!

It鈥檚 common advice, but it鈥檚 also necessary.

You never know who you could meet who could lead you to the next glittering opportunity. Go to those school fairs. Send out those cold pitches. You might get noticed.

Create An Online Presence

People can only know your greatness when you display it. Start with a LinkedIn profile, and optimise it with your experiences, even the smallest ones.

Follow Experts in Your Field

To know where you鈥檙e going, it鈥檚 important you know who鈥檚 already there. Watch out for people who are at the top of your desired field, and study the steps they took to get there.

Learn How to Get Rejected

Apply for opportunities you don鈥檛 think you鈥檙e 100% qualified for. Reach out to employers even if you don鈥檛 think they鈥檒l answer. Take as many long shots as you can, knowing that half the success is the fact that you even tried.

Your Degree Isn鈥檛 You

This doesn鈥檛 mean your degree is useless, but in the corporate world, you need to be more than what you鈥檙e studying. Explore what you want to do with your life now while the stakes are lower.

READ NEXT: #NairaLife: She Knows Her Family Cheats Her, but She Can鈥檛 Say No to Black Tax

In this story, Amelia shares what it was like growing up with a woman who provided for her but treated her as less than her own children, how she secretly started earning money at university, and why she presents herself as broke to the woman who raised her.

This is Amelia鈥檚 story, as told to Azara

When I was two years old, my mother got sick and died.

I don鈥檛 know or remember much about her. What I do know is that, according to the natural order of things, my father should have taken responsibility for caring for my siblings and me.

But that didn鈥檛 happen, at least not in any stable, loving way. He was flaky with our care 鈥� barely feeding us, barely talking to us or checking up on us. He brought his pregnant side-chick to our house, but she was as ignorant of our needs as he was. 

His neglect must have been glaring because by the time I was three, the situation caught the attention of my mother鈥檚 sister.

She begged my father to do more for us, but he refused, seemingly done with anything that had to do with my mother. 

At first, my aunt tried to leave the matter alone, but she had to intervene again when my sister died less than two years after my mother. She had been sick, and I can鈥檛 tell for sure if my father鈥檚 neglect had worsened her illness and caused her death, but my aunt didn鈥檛 plan to risk finding out.

I was four when my siblings and I moved in with my aunt. My father had no problem letting us go. He never tried to keep in touch or come back for us. But that was fine, because my Aunty was there.

My two siblings were much older than me 鈥� 13 and 17 years older鈥� and they left a few years after we arrived at my aunt鈥檚 place, so they never became her children per se. I was the one she called daughter. 

She fed, clothed and gave me a family; her own biological children became my siblings, and she became my mother.

But while I finally felt safe and loved, our arrangement was far from perfect.

My aunt had an issue with spending money. It affected all of us, but it was worse with me. When I was seven, I broke a small thing in our house. I don鈥檛 even remember what it was, but all I know is that it did not warrant the tongue-lashing my aunt doled out.

鈥淗ave you ever made one naira for me in your life?鈥� she yelled, which I found odd since I was just seven. But little did I know that reaction was tame compared to what I鈥檇 come to experience.

Whenever I asked her for anything that wasn’t a necessity, she angrily said, 鈥淒o you know how much I鈥檓 spending on you?鈥� She made it a point of duty to remind me that I was an unplanned expense to her. 

In her angrier moments, she would remind me I wasn鈥檛 even her daughter. 

鈥淵ou think it鈥檚 easy to cater for somebody that’s not their biological child?鈥� She regularly yelled if I asked her for treats. 鈥淓ven people who have biological children are looking for someone who will help them take care of their children, and you鈥檙e here, you鈥檙e getting everything from me.鈥�

She defended these actions on the grounds of her religion. When she felt I was asking for too much, she yelled that I was trying to be like the children of the world and that God didn鈥檛 support waste.

By 2019, at the age of 14, I understood asking her for things was a waste of breath. Instead, I decided to refocus that energy on making my own money.

As a child, my options were limited, but that never stopped me. I would write love letters for classmates during Valentine’s Day and charge 鈧�400 per letter. I made roughly 鈧�3,000 from it in 2019, and although it could barely buy me two loaves of bread, holding my own cash awoke something in me.

That was my money. Not something I鈥檇 had to beg for and get insulted for; Mine.

Then, when I was 17, I made 鈧�15k from writing for an international magazine. My cousin had gotten the opportunity, asked for my help, and given me a share of her earnings. Before I could even take in the win, my aunt struck again.

I had tried to deposit the money into an account I鈥檇 opened with a friend鈥檚 help, but my aunt found out and became livid. She claimed I鈥檇 opened the account because I wanted people to send me money; that I planned to use the money to do immoral things. She then added that only greed and immorality could cause me to do such a thing, reminding me that God called us to be humble.

So, for a while, I paused my money-making attempts.

Then, in 2023, I was admitted to the university. I wish I could say my aunt鈥檚 behaviour got better, but if anything, her madness became clearer to me the moment I went to school. 

 She would send me to school with only a 鈧�15k allowance for a month. I might have even managed that if the provisions she bought me were enough. She would give me 8 sachets of tomato paste, a small bag of garri, and a small bag of rice. That was it. 

If I showed any sign of discomfort, she would start with her speeches about discontentment and how God doesn鈥檛 want me to waste. She would also add that God would provide, and if he hadn鈥檛 yet, I needed to wait patiently.

I didn鈥檛 agree with that, so I took matters into my own hands.

Since I had had some success with writing before, I started taking courses in creative fields: creative writing, social media management, digital marketing, proofreading, and anything that caught my eye.

Within a year of being in university, I started scoring clients and making money. Some times, I made 鈧�10k/week, other times, 鈧�50k/month. Last year [2025], I even made 鈧�300k in one month.

That money? Revolutionary! I didn鈥檛 think I could have so much money in one go. I haven鈥檛 made as much since then, but I鈥檝e been making enough fluctuating income to upgrade my lifestyle.

For instance, I bought a 鈧�350k laptop in 2025 all by myself. I can now afford to do my hair with attachments 鈥� something my aunt never let me do 鈥� and buy whatever I like, from trinkets to clothes and food.

But even now, my aunt is still my biggest roadblock.

I鈥檝e hidden all my earnings from her, and part of that is hiding my lifestyle. I鈥檓 one person in school, then a different person at home.

She has never seen my new laptop and still believes I鈥檓 using the problematic hand-me-down that barely comes on. Before I leave school, I loosen my hair to make sure she doesn鈥檛 see it, and even at home, I still ask her for 鈧�5k for a hairstyle that uses wool; then I鈥檒l add my own money to make it better.

I鈥檓 living a double life, but really, what is double about my life? I鈥檓 not doing anything crazy; I鈥檓 just finally able to take care of myself. I鈥檓 worried that if she finds out, she鈥檒l stop giving me money, or worse, make me stop working.

 I had to change my course in my third year because I was having school issues, so I started university all over again, and I鈥檓 now in my second year. If she knows I鈥檓 working multiple jobs, I have no doubt she鈥檒l tell me they鈥檙e distracting me from school and will never stop holding it over my head.

I don鈥檛 know if she suspects I鈥檓 making money, but she once came close to finding out how much money I have when she asked me to put her number on my card so she could see my transactions. I almost died from panic that day. Luckily for me, another aunt can already see my transactions on that card, so I just lied that it could only be one person who sees my transactions at a time.

I鈥檓 now working on content writing, and things are looking up. My income still isn鈥檛 stable, but it’s more stable than what my aunt has given me over the years.

I plan to keep building my skills, keep working, build savings, and move out the moment I鈥檓 done with university, but I know I have to lock in. I鈥檓 already dreading how my aunt will try to manipulate me into staying at home with her instead of getting my own place.

At the end of the day, I still love her. I know without her, I would have had no fighting chance at this life. Plus, maybe her manipulation worked after all, because a part of me can鈥檛 shake the feeling I鈥檓 in debt to her.

But this is my life, and her archaic beliefs will not steal any more of it away from me. 

READ NEXT: These Nigerians Relied on Uber for Work. What Now?

On September 2nd 2026, Uber in Nigeria as part of a global restructuring scheme. Their sudden disappearance has certainly left its mark. More than anything, it had us wondering what this means for drivers who depended financially on their Uber earnings.聽

Now, we know.

Here are five Nigerian Uber drivers and what this loss means to them.

鈥淚 no longer have income for my savings鈥� 鈥� James*, M, 40

I drove with Uber for two years. It was a way for me to make extra income, in addition to my small tailoring business. I mostly drove on weekends and usually earned an extra 鈧�10,000 each weekend. That money went toward my savings and helped me sort out family needs.

When I saw the departure announcement, I thought it was a joke. It was my friend who called me to tell me it was true. 

It鈥檚 a hit to my savings for sure. I now have to look for an additional source of income. My best option now is to start Bolt or InDrive, but I鈥檓 not sure it鈥檚 worth the risk. What if they decide to leave, too?

鈥淚 left engineering to be an Uber driver.鈥� 鈥� Rotimi*, M, 43.

Uber had been my main source of income when I joined the platform 11 years ago. In fact, it paid me 3x more than my 鈧�170k/month engineering job. I had to leave the job to focus on Uber. 

However, as the years went by and their international standards dropped 鈥� they stopped properly screening their drivers and refused to increase the fare when fuel prices rose 鈥� my earnings also dropped. I had to start driving on Bolt and InDrive in 2019 to supplement my earnings. More recently, I added poultry farming to the mix to earn more.

So, when Uber left, I wasn鈥檛 earning anything substantial there anymore. While I鈥檓 sad that something I鈥檝e invested so much effort in has left the country, I saw it coming from a mile away. They dropped their standards and chose a dirty game. It isn鈥檛 a major loss to me. 

鈥淚鈥檝e done over 11,000 trips with them.鈥� 鈥� Ladi*, M, 48. 

I first joined Uber in 2016, less than two years after they came to Nigeria, and back then, everything was wonderful. They did background checks on all the drivers, and you had to be properly dressed to drive. I could earn 鈧�30,000 in just 8 hours of driving a day, and I wouldn鈥檛 spend more than 鈧�5,000 on fuel.

However, when the poor standards set by competing ride-hailing apps became the norm, everything fell apart. I left Uber in 2018 but eventually rejoined in 2019. By then, Uber was a mess, and I was barely earning up to 鈧�30,000 a week. It went from being my main job to my side hustle.

Still, I鈥檝e been there for a decade and have completed over 11,000 trips. I may not be losing significant income, but it has been such a big part of my life for so long, and I鈥檓 so pained that they鈥檙e leaving. I鈥檓 not cutting down on anything per se, but having a little extra money never hurts.

鈥淚t was already going downhill.鈥� 鈥� Godswill*, M, 37. 

I drove with Uber for over three years, but by the time I joined, the company was already in a bad state. Uber allowed anyone to drive, even people who couldn鈥檛 speak English or read a map. They favoured passengers even when they were rude to us drivers, not to mention the rising cost of fuel, while Uber鈥檚 fares stayed the same. I can drive for 12 hours, make 鈧�50,000, but then lose more than half of it to app commission and maintenance.

Because of this, most of us switch between Uber, Bolt, and inDrive, but even with their declining standards, Uber was the best of all three.

I鈥檓 still very shocked that a major company like Uber can leave so many of us stranded. All the money I make to take care of my family comes from my Uber, Bolt, and inDrive money. With Uber gone, I鈥檓 worried things will get harder for us, especially now that there are rumours that the other apps will exploit this issue to increase their charges. Hopefully, a better alternative will come up soon. 

鈥淚 owe them money, so I鈥檓 conflicted.鈥� 鈥� Yakubu*, M, 28.

I drove with Uber for 3 years, and the journey wasn’t smooth at all. Instead of paying me, I鈥檓 usually in a lot of debt because I do a lot of cash trips, and instead of paying my commission to Uber, I spend the money on maintenance. I鈥檝e put most of my focus on inDrive in recent days because the commission the app takes isn鈥檛 as high as Uber鈥檚.

When Uber announced their departure, I was actively paying back my 鈧�23k commission debt to the company. It was so frustrating; any money I made from my card trips (trips where the app automatically charges the rider) went straight to paying my debt. 

Now that Uber is gone, I feel a little relieved. In an email they sent us, they even promised to send us one final goodbye allowance. I don鈥檛 know if I鈥檓 entitled to it or if that鈥檚 when they鈥檒l try to handle my debt, but for now, I鈥檓 relaxed. It鈥檚 a small loss compared to what I鈥檓 earning from InDrive.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

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