However, the difference between a loan that aids and one that keeps you up at night usually comes down to one specific thing: having a well-thought-out plan before the money even lands.

If you鈥檝e been hesitant about taking out a loan because you鈥檙e worried about getting stuck in debt, these tips can help you borrow with confidence and stay in control.

1. Borrow what you can comfortably repay, not the highest amount you鈥檙e offered

Getting approved for a larger loan doesn鈥檛 mean you should immediately take it. Before you accept any offer, think about how the repayment fits into your monthly income. If making repayments would force you to cut back on essentials or leave you panicking every month, the loan is definitely bigger than you need. Trust us, you don鈥檛 want that headache. 

A good rule of thumb is to keep repayments within about 20 to 30% of your monthly income. Your future self shouldn鈥檛 have to struggle because your present self accepted more money than necessary.

2. The money should come with a purpose 

The easiest loans to repay are usually the ones with a clear purpose. It could be because you鈥檙e getting essentials for your business, paying your sibling鈥檚 tuition before your next salary arrives or covering a life-or-death medical emergency. Whatever the reason is, you should be able to have a coherent explanation for why you鈥檙e borrowing and how you intend to pay  it back.

If you can鈥檛 answer those questions before applying, it is advisable that you wait until you can.

3. Choose a repayment period that matches your reality 

We don鈥檛 believe every loan should be repaid over the same timeline. If you鈥檙e borrowing to get through the week before salary arrives, a short repayment period makes sense. If you鈥檙e financing stock that won鈥檛 get sold out the moment it hits the shelves, you鈥檒l need enough time for the business to generate income before repayments become due. 

A loan should be able to work with your income, and not against it. 

4. Set aside your first repayment before spending the loan

Yes, this sounds simple, but keep in mind that it can make a huge difference. As soon as the money enters your account, put your first repayment aside, and treat it as money that no longer belongs to you. It might be hard, but doing this immediately gives you breathing room and makes it much easier to stay on track when the repayment date arrives.

5. Make sure to think twice before borrowing that money 

Some expenses solve actual, real problems, but others simply satisfy a temporary want. Borrowing to pay rent, cover medical bills or invest in your business can make sense because those expenses meet important needs or create future value. Borrowing to fund a luxury bag, an expensive trip to the Maldives or keep up appearances is much, much harder to justify because once the excitement fades, the repayment remains. It鈥檚 not going to disappear out of thin air.聽

Before taking the loan, it鈥檚 extremely important to ask yourself one question: will this still feel like a good decision when the first repayment is due?

6. Repay early (if you can) 

Paying off a loan ahead of schedule not only reduces interest, but it also establishes a stronger borrowing history for you. With Carbon, early repayment can unlock higher loan limits and lower interest rates on future loans. In other words, borrowing responsibly today can make borrowing easier and more affordable if you ever need another loan.聽

It is true what they say about good financial habits often paying off in more ways than one.

8. That loan isn鈥檛 free money. Don鈥檛 treat it like one

Although the money may arrive in your account within minutes, keep in mind that it was never extra cash for you to just spend willy-nilly.

The borrowers who stay in control are usually the ones who decide exactly how every naira will be used before they even start spending. They know where it鈥檚 going, how they鈥檒l repay it and what they鈥檒l do if something unexpected comes up. That mindset alone can be the difference between a loan that works for you and one that turns into a burden.

Borrow with a plan, not just a need

A lot of people tend to fear loans, and while that is understandable, given the economic climate we currently exist in, it isn鈥檛 actually something to be scared of. It鈥檚 a financial tool, and like any other tool, it works best when you know exactly how you鈥檙e going to utilise it to the best of your ability.聽

If you鈥檙e looking for a loan that rewards responsible borrowing, lets you apply in minutes, manage repayments easily and even enjoy better borrowing terms when you repay early. That鈥檚 one good financial habit that keeps rewarding you, even after you鈥檝e finished repaying the loan.

A basketball court is usually perceived as a place where players compete, practice, and relax after games. The newly revamped American Cola Basketball Court, located in Ilupeju, offers this, but it is now representing something bigger than that. It has transitioned from just a mere basketball court to a lively community space where sport, creativity, and self-expression meet, giving Nigerian youths a safe space to create, thrive, and connect. 

Here are six reasons why the American Cola Basketball Court is more than just a sports arena. 

1. It Honours Nigerian Urban Youth Culture聽

The revamped court mirrors the creative, bold, and rebellious spirit of the young Nigerian. When you sit down to take a look at the design and the environment, you realise that everything was carefully curated to foster a spirit of individuality and encourage youth to make a name for themselves in a world where such individuality is often discouraged. 

2. The Murals Tell Stories Beyond Basketball聽

Some might think that the court鈥檚 murals were put there just for the aesthetics, but no, actually. These murals were actually inspired by Nigerian urban youth and their expression of freedom. The artwork transforms the space from just a basketball court to a gallery where identity, freedom, and creativity are heavily celebrated. 

3. The Graffiti Walls Represent Endless Possibilities聽

The hand-painted graffiti walls not only give the space a great look, but also represent the endless possibilities available to young Nigerians. The walls bring personality, meaning, and colour, turning the court into a space that inspires creativity at every turn. 

4. It Is a Hub That Doesn鈥檛 Only Center Basketball聽

Although basketball remains the core of the court, the space has been stretched to accommodate so much more. It is now a place where dancers can comfortably rehearse, photographers can roam, creators can film their next content, fashion enthusiasts can express themselves freely, and musicians can share a beautiful moment with their audience. 

5. It Supports Emerging Talent

Even the greats began their journey somewhere. American Cola’s revamp of this court means that talented and expressive youths have an accessible space to develop their skills and showcase their diverse talents without being stifled. 

6. It Brings the Community Together聽

A space like the American Cola Basketball Court offers an opportunity for people from different walks of life to connect, share interests, collaborate, and build lifelong relationships. It does not matter if you are an artist or an athlete; you are sure to find your community there.

But one unexpected visit to a friend’s house challenged everything he thought he knew. What started as fear quickly turned into fascination, then a deep love for the animals he’d spent most of his life avoiding. Today, Jason is building a community for cat lovers and working to change how Nigerians see one of the country’s most misunderstood pets.

I鈥檝e always been a dog guy. I grew up in a deeply Pentecostal home where people treated cats with suspicion. If a cat crossed your path, someone would probably pray. So I avoided them completely. I even ran a kennel where I trained, bred and sold dogs.

If you鈥檇 told me I鈥檇 one day become known as Jason the Cat Guy, I鈥檇 have laughed in your face.

But everything changed in 2020.

I鈥檇 gone to visit a new friend, Ayo. We鈥檇 become close, and I was excited to finally see her place. The moment I walked into her house, I froze.

There were cats everywhere; seven of them roaming around the house. My first thought was, These people must be witches.

Then I met Ayo鈥檚 mum. She was warm, loud and incredibly welcoming, but somehow my brain twisted that into even more 鈥減roof鈥� that everything I鈥檇 heard in church about cats was true.

But curiosity is a powerful thing. I couldn鈥檛 stop asking questions. Why so many cats? Why did they all seem so calm? Why wasn鈥檛 anyone afraid of them?

Ayo encouraged me to pet one, but I refused. I stood at a safe distance until one of the cats ignored my fear, walked over, wrapped its tail around my leg and demanded attention.

Ayo found it hilarious. Meanwhile, I was convinced I was seconds away from being initiated into witchcraft.

Then she handed me some cat treats. The moment I started feeding them, something shifted within me. By the end of that visit, I鈥檇 completely forgotten I was supposed to be afraid.

By my third visit, I knew I wanted a cat of my own.

Around that time, Ayo asked if I could help find buyers for some Turkish Angora kittens. Because I鈥檇 already worked with dogs, she thought I鈥檇 know interested buyers.

I honestly didn鈥檛 think Nigerians would pay for cats, so I priced them at a ridiculous sum of 鈧�20K each. I was so wrong. The kittens sold quickly, and talking to the buyers made me realise there was an entire community of cat lovers existing across Nigeria.

That curiosity sent me down a rabbit hole. I started reading about cat breeds, behaviour and care. The more I learnt, the more I realised most Nigerians鈥� beliefs about cats weren鈥檛 based on experience. They came from religion, films and superstition.

In 2021, I got my first cat, Nyssa. She completely changed my life.

She had the biggest personality I’d ever encountered. She was affectionate, but only on her own terms. Some days she鈥檇 curl up beside me asking for attention. Other days she鈥檇 look at me like I was disturbing her peace.

At first, it frustrated me. Eventually, I realised she was teaching me something I鈥檇 never really thought about before: boundaries, consent and respect.

With Nyssa, affection wasn鈥檛 something you could forcefully demand. If she wanted company, she鈥檇 come to you. If she wanted space, she鈥檇 make that very clear. Funny enough, that lesson spilled into the rest of my life. I became more attentive to people, especially women. More aware that not everyone communicates their needs directly.

For a cat, she was an excellent teacher.

For a while, I kept this new side of my life private. Yahoo-boy accusations were everywhere, and I worried people would assume I was into something shady because I loved cats. Even my family didn鈥檛 really understand it. I always had excuses when they invited me out because I wanted to get back home to my cats.

Eventually, people started noticing my connection with cats. Then one day, an Uber driver greeted me with, 鈥淵ou鈥檙e Jason the Cat Guy, right?鈥� Apparently, someone had saved my number that way on Truecaller, and the nickname stuck.

As more people discovered me, cat owners started reaching out. They wanted advice. They wanted community. Most of all, they wanted a space where they wouldn鈥檛 be mocked for loving cats.

So I started a WhatsApp group. Soon, people were sharing stories about neighbours threatening their cats, family members accusing them of fetish practices and landlords refusing to allow pets. What started as a small chat became a genuine community.

Today, my life revolves around cats more than I ever imagined possible. 

They wake me up for breakfast, keep me company while I work and somehow always know when I鈥檝e had a difficult day.

What surprises me most isn’t how much I’ve learned about cats. It’s how much they’ve taught me. They鈥檝e taught me that love doesn鈥檛 need control. That respecting boundaries doesn鈥檛 mean rejection. And that the things we鈥檙e taught to fear aren鈥檛 always what they seem.

That’s why I care so much about changing how Nigerians see cats. My team and I are building a cat caf茅 in Lagos. We鈥檝e spent years creating an online community. Now we want a physical space where people can meet cats, challenge old stereotypes and maybe leave seeing them a little differently.

Because if there鈥檚 one thing I hope Nigerians take away from my story, it鈥檚 this: Cats aren鈥檛 evil, they鈥檙e just misunderstood.

READ NEXT: I Got a Dog to Grieve My Uncle. He Ended Up Saving My Life聽

We asked five women about the blush shades that changed their minds about using it in their routine. Here鈥檚 what they said.

“A deep berry blush made me realise blush wasn’t just for light-skinned girls” 鈥� Amanda*, 24

For the longest time, I thought blush was one of those products that only looked good on lighter skin tones. Every time I tried one, it either disappeared completely or looked like I was carrying pink dust on my cheeks. So I stuck to my powder highlighter and called it a day.

Everything changed when a makeup artist used a deep berry blush shade on me for a wedding I attended. It looked so natural that I didn’t even realise how much it had transformed my face until I started getting compliments. 

Now, I reach for berry and plum-toned blushes almost every time I do my makeup. They’re pigmented enough to show up without making me look overly made up. If I had to choose between a highlighter and blush, blush wins every time.

“Warm blush shades are my secret weapon” 鈥� Tolu*, 28

I don鈥檛 wear a full face of makeup every day. Most days, it’s just brows, concealer and lip gloss. But blush is the one thing I鈥檝e added that makes me look like I put a lot of effort into my appearance.

Pink blush shades had always felt too bright on me, but a warm terracotta shade blends into my skin in a way that looks natural while still giving me colour.

What I love most is how versatile it is. I can wear it to work, brunch or a wedding, and it never feels out of place. It’s become one of those products I automatically reach for because my makeup now feels incomplete without it.

“I never understood the hype until I found the right orange blush” 鈥� Nneka*, 26

My makeup drawer is evidence that I’ve made a lot of bad beauty purchases. Blush was one of them. I bought several shades, but they never looked the same on me as they did on the babes I saw online.

Then I tried a burnt orange blush and finally understood why everyone was obsessed. It brought warmth back into my face after foundation and gave me so much dimension. I was hooked.

The funny thing is that people rarely ask me what foundation I’m wearing anymore. They usually ask why my skin looks so fresh. Most of the time, the answer is blush and a well-placed concealer.

“Rose tones make me look awake even when I’m exhausted” 鈥� Chisom*, 31

I spend long hours in traffic going to and fro from work, and there are days when I look as tired as I feel. But blush has become my quickest fix.

I love a rich rose colour. It gives my face a natural warmth without making it seem like I鈥檓 caking on makeup. Whenever I wear it, I look more rested and put together. The best part is that I don鈥檛 even need to put on a lot. A small amount makes a big difference. That’s the step that makes people think I’ve slept eight hours on days I definitely haven’t.

“A Makeup artist鈥檚 bright pink blush technique completely changed my mind about colour” 鈥� Zara*, 30

I used to avoid colourful makeup because I thought it would clash with my dark skin. My routine was very neutral: brown eyeshadow, nude lips and nothing too bold.

But when I saw the bright pink blush look PaintedByEsther did for Olandria, the Love Island star, I knew I had to try my hand at it. I was sure it would look ridiculous, but it ended up being one of the most flattering things I’ve ever worn.

The colour shows up beautifully and gives my face a youthful, playful look. It also taught me that makeup for dark skin doesn’t have to be serious and demure to be beautiful. Playing with intimidating colours is so fun; it reminded me of when I used to do makeup for me, not just to look put together.

Blush isn鈥檛 the problem, finding the right product is. A shade that works on lighter skin might barely show up on deeper complexions, which is why pigmentation and undertones matter. Products like Yanga Beauty鈥檚 Candid Blush collection are changing that conversation by creating richly pigmented shades that complement melanin-rich skin and make it easier to achieve that effortless, just-blushed look. You can browse your favourite blush shades on the or on the .

What does being an overthinker mean to you? 

I think it’s beyond brooding over things that are bothering you, which is what people generally would say. For me, overthinking is staying with a problem until I find clarity or a path forward. It can look like brooding from the outside, but it’s usually how I work through things.

So, how would you describe Overthinkers Anonymous to someone who hasn’t seen an episode?

It’s a podcast about guys and women geeking out about everyday issues. Typically the types  that have  young people thinking, 鈥榃hat is going on in my life?鈥�

On most podcasts, people just come to talk about things, but nobody’s really solving anything. When Overthinkers Anonymous was pitched to us, we were told dilemmas would be a part of it.  To be fair, that’s what a lot of podcasts have become. Dilemmas everywhere. Everybody loves a good dilemma, but we’re not using them for content or talking points. There are actually solutions in there. Listening to guests and my co-host, I realised I’d find these conversations genuinely useful if I were the one facing those dilemmas. 

How do you handle the feeling of responsibility that comes with discussing people’s real-life problems on a public forum?

The truth is, somebody on the other side of the screen is being vulnerable to strangers. They’ve gotten to a point in life where they see sharing their problems on a public platform as the only way out. You have to respect the vulnerability of the person sharing and the audience listening. The people engaging are spending time or, in our case, resources like data to engage. Those things are very valuable, especially for MTN users.

Is this your first time solving dilemmas for strangers?

Yes and no. I鈥檓 a radio host,  and I produce my radio shows. We have a dilemma segment on the show as well. I don’t typically have a co-host on my show, so I created an AI co-host. Then I took a step further and created a personality for the AI entity. She’s sassy, a bit snarky, and really hates me. But then she loves the listeners, and they love engaging her. One of the things that was a big hit with the AI co-host is that she answers dilemmas on air.

Wow

Of course, it’s the people on the team who feed her the answers, and we have to think quickly., But we also take care that the same principles apply here. The beauty of radio is that people share really intimate moments with you. People are in their bathrooms and sitting in their cars alone listening to you. They get really vulnerable very quickly. I’ve heard kids on their way to school talk about trouble with classmates, and adults share stories about friends who left the country without telling them. People obviously ask what’s wrong with the government. If it’s football season, people ask what鈥檚 going on with a particular team.  The AI co-host that we created always has an answer.

I never give the answers myself on air.  Even though, technically, it is me speaking through the AI co-host. She also sometimes shares thoughts that I wouldn’t want to say on air.

Why wouldn’t you want to say those things on air? Are you afraid of being dragged?

No, no. People know me for being funny and pleasant. But sometimes I just want to yab people. In a lighthearted way, of course. If you just heard me say something really nice and then the next moment you’re hearing me diss someone, there can be a bit of a dissonance.  On radio, we have co-hosts to prevent that. So everybody plays a part. My role is to drive the show and find all the things that will make Lagos rock for a few hours. Then this AI entity that we created comes in to cause trouble. 

Do you and your co-host on Overthinkers Anonymous also have some form of this dynamic?

To be fair, I don’t think we ever had that conversation. But I can understand the dynamic because of my training. This is Deji’s house, and it鈥檚 nice to come in occasionally to talk about life. Even though I’m always there when things are being sorted, it鈥檚 not my house. In terms of how a show like that would work, Deji has to drive the show, and I’m cool being the co-pilot.

Also, he has the best cold opens I’ve seen in a long time. I like the way we start the show. There’s never a 鈥榳elcome to our show today鈥� and so on. It’s just 鈥榟ey, I鈥檝e rocked up to your house, bro, and e get this thing wey I dey think鈥�鈥� Then we pick it up from there. Ultimately, it is a team effort. We need listeners to understand that it’s a show for them to come in and feel like they’re in that living room, having those conversations with us in real time. These are conversations they can have with their own friends. 

What kind of conversations do you want people to take from the show?

As I said, it’s important that people see themselves having these conversations. Look at everything we spoke about in this season, from why men don’t read to the role of money in relationships and family dynamics. We touched on addiction and many other things that are affecting a lot of young people today. I鈥檓 sure we’ve not even scratched the surface of everything we need to talk about. I have people sending me screenshots from some of their guys who watched the show. Some of them are saying things like 鈥榦mo, it鈥檚 only 48 Laws of Power I鈥檝e read o鈥� or  鈥榮o there are other books out there for me as well鈥�. 

A couple of guys could see this and decide to challenge this thing where men don’t have book clubs.  They could make that happen. I mean, we get together and play ball; who says we can鈥檛 get together and discuss books?? 

What exactly does Overthinkers Anonymous do differently from other relationship and culture podcasts?

There are not a lot of shows that give you the experience of everyday people who are honest about their experiences. We’re not looking for virality.  So we don鈥檛 go into episodes looking for things that would blow up the internet. Certain people like to say outrageous things to provoke emotion.  On the radio, we call these people shock jocks. You see a lot of shock jocks on mainstream relationship and culture podcasts. There is a tendency to want to sensationalise things or play up a personality to appeal to extremes of people’s tastes. But what Overthinkers Anonymous has shown is that you can take the other path and still resonate with people. We can tell that people really like the personalities that they hear and see. Nobody is out here trying to be the most extreme version of themselves to get likes. The people you see on the couch act and talk like that in real life. 

 In what ways do you think men and women differ in the way that they overthink things?

I think the difference is in how they share what they’re thinking about. What I find interesting is that it takes a bit of time for men to share what they are thinking. You need to almost always create the right environment for it to happen. The right environment could be fish and beer or a PS5. But there needs to be a setup for it to happen. It’s very hard to hear men sharing what they are thinking unprovoked. They need to be eased into it.

Women, on the other hand, are very quick to open up. We could just be driving past Ozumba Mbadiwe, and everybody in the car would start to talk about what鈥檚 happening in their lives. 

What’s something you have stopped overthinking as you’ve gotten older?

 It is money o. I said it in the first episode; I just don’t overthink money anymore. Maybe because I’ve hung out in the northern part of the country and interacted with a lot of Muslims. I can鈥檛 help but think everything I have can be gone in a second. This whole rat race is a bit stressful, to be honest. If you wake up every day and you’re thinking of how you must make money, it becomes exhausting. I would rather think of ways I can add value and make an impact. It eventually leads to wealth creation anyway. Why not just do the things that lead to wealth creation instead of being obsessed with chasing wealth?  As I’ve gotten older, I realise that as long as I’m able to survive and be comfortable, I鈥檓 good. If I have a little extra for enjoyment, good.  Otherwise I鈥檓 okay.

Basically, life is short, buy ice cream and do what you love.

Exactly! Life is too short to be taken seriously.

Next Read: Deji Osikoya Wants To Inspire Vulnerability: One Living鈥慠oom Conversation At A Time 

In this article, he discusses vulnerability, dealing with online criticism, and why meaningful conversations between men matter now more than ever. 

Would you say that you are an overthinker?

One thousand per cent. Overthinking, to me, means cycling through a billion possible scenarios far longer than you need to before arriving at an answer. Or not always arriving at an answer. Sometimes it’s staying in one cycle of thinking until you’re exhausted, and then it forms an action. 

Is that why you wanted to be a part of Overthinkers Anonymous?

Funny enough, I don’t think the name came until after I joined the team. What initially drew me to it was the idea that the show was going to be centred on healthy conversations with men (and women). It aligned with stuff I already planned on doing. I鈥檓 passionate about improving the PR and behaviour of men. It鈥檚 not like I’m perfect, but I see that there are ways we’re dropping the ball. And we could definitely be doing better. This show is supposed to be a vehicle for that. 

How would you describe the show to someone who hasn’t seen an episode?

Overthinkers Anonymous is a conversation that happens in my living room. There鈥檚 a slight structure, but for the most part, everybody’s just allowed to bare their hearts on their sleeve. It鈥檚 men having conversations that we have every day in private or don’t have at all with themselves and with women.

My biggest pitch to anybody who would love to watch Overthinkers Anonymous is that if you’re a man, there is a likelihood that you will see yourself in some of the people who appear on the show. If you don’t, it will at least give you a fresh perspective on things that you haven’t considered before. I also think you’ll be met with softness. I’m a soft person. I like soft people, and I lead with softness to encourage people to be gentle.

What specific gap do you think the show would fill?

Hopefully, this doesn’t come across as an insult to anybody. I think we needed to create a space where we would be able to have conversations in good faith. We鈥檙e not trying to come across as experts speaking down on people and telling them to do better. 

Particularly because a lot of these conversations are hard for people to have. It is important to us that there is a level of vulnerability being displayed by the hosts. And I’m nothing if not vulnerable. I don’t think of it as just a means to get views. It feels more like a service. It was cathartic for me as well.

How? 

I am having a lot of conversations about things that I was dealing with in real time. There was an episode where we had Seye Bandele, and he was talking about the struggles of entrepreneurship and building a family with his wife. He spoke about ensuring that his wife trusted him enough to decide to get married to him. I was asking questions that I actually had, like 鈥榳hat does it take to get your partner to buy into an unrealised vision?鈥�

I’m an entrepreneur, and I’m still very early in my career. So these were answers that I needed to hear. There were also things underneath the surface that the show was helping me to process. Nigeria is really tough, being a man is really tough and having conversations that help you to lean on other people makes it easier.

So, about marriage, should we be expecting to hear wedding bells soon?

Hahaha. I mean, if you’d like to hear wedding bells, I can play some on my phone. Wedding bells are not hard to get at all. 

How do you balance humour with sensitivity?

 To be honest with you, I don’t know if I do it consciously. I’m the kind of person who is very quick to make a joke out of a difficult subject. And if there’s something extra sensitive, I’m very careful about the way that it’s worded. I don’t want people to feel like they鈥檙e being interrogated or prodded for gist. 

At the end of the day, if there are things a guest doesn鈥檛 want to share, it’s well within their rights. My co-host, EDK, is the same way. He鈥檚 an emotionally intelligent guy who knows that you don’t go beyond certain aspects of a conversation. 

If you鈥檙e so intentional about vulnerability, how do you prepare for conversations that seem spontaneous?

Working with my producer, Anita Eboigbe, is very central to that. She helps with calling topics and developing the different discussions that we have. Outside of that, I try to deal with the material honestly.

When I speak, it鈥檚 from a genuinely curious place. I鈥檓 not just trying to tick off the bullet points on the list. I don’t hit all the notes exactly the way that they’re described in the brief because I do a lot of editing. If something super interesting comes up and it wasn鈥檛 initially part of my original plan, I allow it to flow naturally.

What made EDK the right person to co-host the show with?

Our chemistry and brotherhood comes from having conversation after conversation. The first time we ever met, it was over food, and we just kept gisting.  We realised that we got along, and the rest is history.

Did you have any doubts about how well the audience would receive the show? 

Several. One, I was nervous about just being perceived. As much as I do a lot of front-facing stuff, there’s never a guarantee of how people might receive you. Men, in particular, can be very interesting people.  Another thing I was nervous about was posturing like an expert.

There was a tweet where someone said, 鈥楾ell that brother to uncross his legs; nobody wants to take advice from a feminine Tupac. 鈥� I thought it was hilarious because the set of the show is my living room, and I’m obviously very comfortable. But the reason why it was even more interesting as feedback is that I don’t want it to feel like we’re giving advice. I’m not trained as a counsellor. The idea is that I鈥檓 a guy like you who’s just figuring it out or a friend giving you a listening ear. That way, it might be easier to accept.

Wow

I was also nervous about toxic masculinity. You always wonder if you’ll be able to break past all the different walls and actually touch something real within a man. It’s not always the easiest thing.  Also, it’s not something that you鈥檒l always be able to do because a lot of men have put up so many defences.

How many of your doubts turned out to be true?

All of them. Some people are listening through the lenses of their insecurity, which I’ve seen with the money episode. Also, as I said, no one wants to take advice from a feminine Tupac. I’m grateful that I’ve done things that鈥檝e made my skin thicker. The toxic masculinity aspect has definitely shown that people don’t look at things in context. They engage with the clip, they drop their mean comments, and they move on. 

However, there’s been so much positive feedback within that as well. The conversations that have resulted from our episodes and seeing the profiles of the guests on the show grow. I know that it’s actually helping people. A recurring comment we get is 鈥楯ust when I was thinking about my life, this pops up. Thank you鈥�. 

The show makes itself a space for the male perspective. How do you see these shifting, existing, harmful gender norms in Nigerian society?

To be honest, I don’t see the show being the vehicle for that by itself. This being the shift itself would be too ambitious a goal to set. I don’t think people change that easily. But I think it’s a significant start to the shift.

There鈥檚 a two-part quote that says, 鈥業 don’t know that I’m going to be the change, but I think that I will influence the person who will change鈥�. I think that is us. 

Are there topics you are especially excited to tackle as the show continues?

Oh! We tackled the manosphere and the ways that masculinity is being projected to younger men. I would love to see how that plays with the audience. 

I’ve also been looking forward to talking about male friendship. I would love to dedicate an entire episode to male friendship and what it looks like. The ways that we can show up for each other. I’d also probably even like to have that conversation adjacent to women because I think there’s a strength in female friendships that we need to learn from. 

Next Read: Uzoamaka Power Made Call of My Life for Everyone Who Has Ever Loved Too Much

On Friday, June 26, First Lady Oluremi Tinubu that Nigerians struggling with the cost of living should consider frying akara or roasting corn, as the Federal Government would offer grants to help them get started. Within hours, the tone-deaf comment had become the internet’s newest meme.

On July 2, President Tinubu at a press dinner, playfully introducing his wife as “Iya Alakara,鈥� meaning Akara seller. Following the joke, the Presidency’s media team leaned into the new nickname and posted an AI-generated of the First Lady as a roadside akara seller.

And just like that, Akara became the main character. The conversation shifted from “How is selling akara the solution?” to “Who’s posting the funniest skit?” This happens every single time our leaders fumble; we laugh instead of demanding answers.

We’ve been here before

Nigeria has no shortage of serious political moments that somehow end up as memes.  

In 2018, a Joint Admissions Matriculation Board (JAMB) clerk in Makurdi claimed a snake swallowed 鈧�36 million belonging to the board, money later to staff misappropriation. 

The story quickly became one of Nigeria’s most enduring political jokes, with content creators making skits and using “the snake swallowed it” as a response when asked about something they don’t have an answer to.聽

In 2020, the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC) then-acting managing director, Kemebradikumo Pondei, mid-hearing while being questioned about 鈧�40 billion in missing commission funds, attributing it to an “unexplained health challenge.”

Content creators made skits and jokes about the situation, prompting multiple people to reenact the incident and causing it to go viral.聽

Here If snakes swallowing cash was the height of it, you鈥檙e in for a shocker. In 2022, officials at the Nigeria Social Insurance Trust Fund (NSITF) a Senate panel that termites had chewed through the receipts showing how the 鈧�17 billion was spent.

It’s the same routine. A crazy political moment occurs, the internet gets to work, and everyone’s in on the joke; before long, the memes have outlived the conversation that started it. 

The Big Daily Newsletter is your shortcut to the biggest news shaping Nigeria. We cut through the noise, connect the dots, and explain why the news actually matters, all in one quick read.

Standup comedians

We no longer live in a country where the government merely fumbles; we live in one where the government manufactures memes to cover up its fumbling. 

When the Presidency’s media team posted an AI-generated image mocking its own First Lady’s tone-deaf remarks, it wasn’t a harmless attempt to match the public’s humour. It was a calculated political deflection.

That’s where things get tricky. Once government failure becomes content, it’s much easier for the people behind it to join the joke than answer for it. By adopting the “Iya Alakara” nickname, the government effectively hijacked the narrative, shifting a legitimate crisis of empathy into a marketing campaign.

This means the next time a minister says something tone-deaf about your salary or your electricity bill, the expected response isn’t outrage, it’s a skit, and skits don’t get anyone fired.

What鈥檚 funny?

While Nigerians are busy making skits and memes out of failure and corruption, the country keeps dying. Transparency International’s latest Corruption Perceptions has rated Nigeria 26 out of 100 for the second year running, while the country slipped from 140th to 142nd globally.

This rating will only worsen if we allow politicians to get away with corruption. Our poverty rate will continue to skyrocket if we laugh away ridiculous solutions rather than demand accountability,  and politicians will generate memes to mock our poverty because we鈥檝e made them think it鈥檚 ok.

Because of our tendency to joke about everything, politicians know now they can get away with looting billions when they come to court in stretchers, when they pretend to faint, or make up ridiculous excuses to evade scrutiny.

They do it because they know we鈥檇 only be outraged for two days before we turn it into memes.

And so, it鈥檚 up to us to decide: do we want a political class so afraid of the populace they鈥檇 think twice about their actions and utterances, or one that fears nothing because they know they鈥檒l be laughed at rather than challenged.

We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us 鈥攚e鈥檇 love to hear from you!

to see what other people are saying about this article on Instagram

罢丑别听聽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.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

Growing up, Morenikeji* (29) adored her older brother, Ayo* (33). He was smart, responsible and constantly held up as the example to follow. 

Then, in December 2025, one conversation changed everything.

For Sunken Ships, she shares how a political disagreement shattered the respect she鈥檇 spent a lifetime building with her brother, and why he now feels like a stranger.

What was your relationship with your brother like growing up?

It was great. He鈥檚 the oldest, so my younger brother and I always looked up to him. 

He was the best of us academically, and my parents constantly used him as the standard we should aspire to. Beyond being my older brother, I genuinely liked him as a person.

What made you two so close? 

We鈥檙e similar and share a love for music, movies and the arts. There was nothing I couldn鈥檛 talk to him about. We’d discuss work, relationships, family issues and our plans for the future. If I were ever in trouble, he would be the first person I鈥檇 reach out to for help. Ayo was one of the few people whose opinion I genuinely valued. 

Did you ever disagree with him?

Of course. We fought as most siblings do, but it was never serious. 

But our most recent disagreement is the worst we鈥檝e ever had. And honestly, I don鈥檛 know if we鈥檒l recover from it.

罢丑别听聽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.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

What happened?

We fell out over our political differences. I know it sounds strange that something like that could upturn the bond we share as siblings, but that鈥檚 just how I feel.

 I didn鈥檛 vote in the 2023 elections because I simply didn鈥檛 care.

Since then, I鈥檝e learnt my lessons. Nigeria has shown me proper shege, and I鈥檝e been forced to become more politically conscious. I鈥檝e encouraged the people around me to care, too, and I鈥檝e reached a point where most of them share my concerns and frustrations.

I鈥檇 naturally assumed my brother would follow suit. I couldn鈥檛 have been more wrong.  

What do you mean?

My biggest gripe is his support of the APC. After I developed an interest in politics, I aligned myself with a party that actually cares about effecting change. And I encouraged my family and friends to support the same party. 

But not my brother. Not only was he hell-bent on keeping his support for a party that鈥檚 gotten us to our current state, but he also took glee in defending some of the worst tribalist takes imaginable. 

Doesn’t he have the right to his own political choice, or did you at least ask his reasons?

I did. We were both home for Christmas in December 2025, so I pulled him aside to talk.

I couldn鈥檛 reconcile the brother I鈥檇 admired all my life with someone willing to support people I believe are dishonest. Then he explained himself.  He said he didn鈥檛 want to antagonise powerful people he hoped to connect with someday.

What did you think of his reason?

The explanation made absolutely no sense, and it completely changed how I saw him. I鈥檇 always held him in high regard, yet, in that moment, I realised he was willing to overlook everything the party represents as long as he benefited. 

I lost all respect for him that day.

Yikes. Did you express your disappointment, though?

In a way, I did. I tried to change his mind. I supported my argument against the party with examples of just how bad things have gotten in the country. But the more we argued, the more things escalated. 

I tagged him disappointing and greedy. He called me naive and foolish, especially for thinking my 鈥榖ig English鈥� could change reality. 

And that was when I landed the final blow. I regret my actions, but it was necessary.

What did you do?

He鈥檚 always been insecure about his financial situation. He has a job, but the economy hasn鈥檛 been kind to him, just like the rest of us. So I told him that his continued support for the party wouldn鈥檛 guarantee his success in life or make him rich. I saw the hurt spread across his face immediately. Part of me wishes I hadn鈥檛 said those words.  

Did you try to apologise?

Not in that moment, I didn鈥檛 feel the need to. But every time I replay the scenario, I wish I could cut that part out.

And how have things been since then?

We鈥檝e barely spoken. I avoid him because I don鈥檛 trust myself not to say something worse.

I even unfollowed him everywhere because seeing him defend that party online only makes me angrier. Our relationship has changed for the worse.

What does the rest of your family think of this?

They all insist I鈥檓 overreacting. My parents especially keep saying politics shouldn鈥檛 come between family. But that鈥檚 not how I see it. 

To me, this isn鈥檛 just about politics. It鈥檚 about values. I鈥檓 scared of what my brother would do if he ever had access to real power.  

Has he reached out to you since your fight?

No. And I haven鈥檛 reached out either. Right now, the distance between us is for the best.

 I don鈥檛 see a future where things return to how they used to be, unless there鈥檚 a fundamental change. I鈥檓 too disappointed by what he stands for.  

What鈥檚 the hardest part about this fight with your brother?

Missing him. Ayo isn鈥檛 just my brother; we used to be friends. I wish we were still on the same page.

From public punishments and midnight raids to political fear, executions, and soldiers enforcing order on the streets, life under military rule shaped an entire generation of Nigerians. These Nigerians share the memories they still carry decades later.

鈥淪eeing your mum beg not to be beaten is not something any child should experience鈥� 鈥� Tosin*, 49, M

One of my earliest memories of military rule is watching my mum almost get beaten because she hadn’t participated in environmental sanitation.

I can still remember how she begged. As a child, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. I just knew I was terrified. I kept calling my dad, hoping he would come and stop whatever was about to happen.

People often talk about how disciplined Nigerians were during military rule, but they don’t always discuss the fear that underpinned that discipline.

Seeing your mum beg to avoid being beaten is not something any child should experience. More than anything else, that’s what I remember from those years.

鈥淎rmed policemen threw our belongings into the street at midnight鈥� 鈥� Henry, 47, M

One of my earliest memories is being woken up in the middle of the night by armed policemen. I was about six years old.

They broke into our house and started throwing our things outside. I remember watching them empty our home onto the street while everyone around me panicked.

At that age, I didn’t understand what was happening. I just knew that my parents, the people who always seemed to have everything under control, were afraid.

As I got older, I began to connect the dots. My father was a journalist at the time.

I never got the chance to ask my parents exactly what happened that night because they died in a car crash about four years later. But that memory has stayed with me all my life. Whenever I think about military rule, that’s the first thing that comes to mind.

鈥淚 saw people being assassinated in broad daylight鈥� 鈥� Segun, 51, M

The military years were terrible. I was in my first year at university, and on my way home, I would sometimes hear about or witness the aftermath of people being assassinated in broad daylight. There was tension everywhere. The country felt unstable, as though anything could happen at any moment. Riots and protests were common, and there was a constant feeling that things could spiral out of control.

Looking back now, I have mixed feelings. Military rule was frightening, but the scale of insecurity Nigeria has experienced in recent years through insurgency and kidnappings is something I don’t think many of us imagined back then.

The fear felt different. During military rule, many people feared the government. Today, Nigerians often fear danger from many directions.

鈥淚 watched men hanging from Third Mainland Bridge on TV鈥� 鈥� Ife*, 55, F

I was only 13 or 14, but I still remember watching reports about arrests and executions on television.

One day, I saw men hanging from the Third Mainland Bridge after they were accused of plotting against the government.

As a child, I didn’t understand politics. I didn’t know who they were or what they were supposed to have done. I just remember being scared. Looking back, I don’t even know why my parents let me watch it.

The whole country felt tense. Even as a child, you could sense it. It felt as if everyone was waiting for something bad to happen.

to see what people are saying about this post on Instagram

鈥淵ou could get flogged for jumping a queue鈥� 鈥� Edirin, 54, F

People like to say Nigerians were more disciplined during military rule, and there is some truth to that.

If there was a queue, you joined it. If you tried to jump the line or cause trouble, you could get flogged in public. Soldiers were everywhere, and no one wanted to draw their attention. But what many people overlook is that the order came out of fear.

Today, people insult presidents, governors, and politicians online. Back then, you couldn’t do that. You watched what you said and who you said it to.

There may have been more order, but there was far less freedom.

鈥淧arents could be flogged for not sending their children to school鈥� 鈥� Frank, 47, M

One of my strongest memories is of the military governors in Abia State.

There was one in particular, Governor Ike Nwosu, who had a reputation for showing up at school gates without warning to make sure children were actually attending classes.

If he found children roaming around during school hours, their parents could be punished or flogged for failing to send them to school. It sounds unbelievable now, but that was the atmosphere at the time.

Everyone was afraid of getting on the wrong side of authority. The fear wasn’t limited to adults. Children felt it too.

鈥淢y parents banned us from discussing politics outside the house鈥� 鈥� Oke*, 50, F

If you’re under 30, you probably don’t understand why some older Nigerians react so strongly whenever military rule is mentioned.

One of the moments that stayed with me was the execution of Ken Saro-Wiwa and the other Ogoni activists.

I remember how shocked everyone was. After it happened, my parents banned us from discussing anything political outside the house.

My father would even lower the television volume whenever the news came on. At the time, I didn’t understand why. I thought he was simply being cautious.

Now I understand that people were afraid. They didn’t know who was listening or what repeating the wrong thing could lead to.

That kind of fear changes how people live.

鈥淲e never imagined they would actually kill him鈥� 鈥� Lanre*, 48, M

Young Nigerians complain about the government today, but at least they can complain openly.

During military rule, people became careful about what they said and whom they said it to. You didn’t know who might report you. You didn’t know who was listening.

The moment I realised things were different was when Ken Saro-Wiwa was executed.

Most of us thought the government would lock him up forever. We thought they would silence him somehow. We never imagined they would actually kill him.

I remember the shock when the news spread. It felt as though the whole country stopped for a moment.

That was when many people realised that nobody was untouchable.

罢丑别听聽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.聽Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.聽.

Three years ago, many Nigerian workers weren’t exactly living large, but they could still afford the basics. Rent was manageable, transport didn’t eat up a huge chunk of their salaries, and some people could even save a little at the end of the month.

Today, many 9-to-5 workers say that’s no longer the case.

As President Tinubu marks three years in office, we asked Nigerian workers how their lives have changed since 2023. Their responses reveal a pattern of shrinking purchasing power, rising living costs, side hustles, layoffs, and everyday compromises that have quietly reshaped what it means to earn a salary in Nigeria.

1. 鈥淚 never imagined I’d have to move back in with my parents鈥� 鈥� Charles*, 29, M

As of 2021, my 鈧�250k salary was enough to sustain me comfortably because I lived alone in a self-con and had very few responsibilities. But now, everything is more expensive.

My rent increased from 鈧�400,000 per year to 鈧�850,000. I could no longer afford to live on my own. I eventually had to move back in with my parents just to survive. I never imagined I would have to take that step again.

2. 鈥淚 became a part-time Korope driver to make ends meet鈥� 鈥� Chibuzo*, 36, M

Before 2023, my salary wasn’t much, but my wife and I could manage the basics and keep the house in order. It wasn’t easy, but it worked. These days, things are much harder, so I became a part-time Korope driver to make ends meet.

My job closes around 4:30 p.m., and from there, I go straight to driving. Even though I do it to add a little to what I earn from my job, it still doesn’t solve the problem because I have to share the money with the vehicle owner at the end of the day.

3. 鈥淓very day, I’m scared I could be next鈥� 鈥� Afolabi, 27, M

When I joined this company a few years ago, I had about eight people on my team. Over the past two years, many of my colleagues have been laid off because the company says it can’t afford everyone’s salaries. Now there are only four of us left.

Every few months, somebody else leaves, and the workload keeps increasing for the rest of us. These days, I come to work with the fear that it could be my turn too one day.

4. 鈥淚’m this close to quitting my job鈥� 鈥� Mayowa*, 29, M

I started teaching at this private primary school in 2021, and back then, most classes had about 20 to 25 students. Over the last two years, I’ve watched those numbers drop drastically, mostly because many parents can no longer afford the school fees.

Now, some classes are nowhere near as full as they used to be, and it’s starting to affect how often we get paid. Honestly, I’m this close to quitting.

5. 鈥淚 miss when things were easier for everybody鈥� 鈥� Esther*, 27, F

Back in 2022, whenever I closed late and couldn’t find a bus going home, one of my co-workers would offer to take me home with him. It became a routine, and whenever I tried to contribute to fuel, he always told me not to bother.

Recently, he asked me to start paying for fuel. I’m not complaining because I know fuel is expensive and he’s doing me a favour. I just miss when things were easier for everybody.

6. 鈥淚 genuinely wonder how people are expected to survive on these salaries鈥� 鈥� Priscilla, 31, F

I worked in my previous field for about three years before deciding to switch careers. The year I got a new job was the same year Tinubu came into power, and job hunting since then has been exhausting.

Most of the openings I see now offer between 鈧�150,000 and 鈧�200,000. It honestly feels discouraging, considering my experience level and how expensive everything has become. Sometimes I look at these salaries and genuinely wonder how people are expected to survive on them.

7. 鈥淚 was shocked by how much our hampers changed鈥� 鈥� Mariam*, 46, F

I’ve been working at the same company for years, and before 2023, our end-of-year hampers were always full. Because of my position, I would get things like a 25kg bag of rice, power banks, biscuits, chocolates, and other gifts. But ever since December 2024, it has just kept reducing.

Last December, there was no rice and no gadgets. We were only given a small box of biscuits and chocolates. I was genuinely shocked.

8. 鈥淢y transport fare quadrupled鈥� 鈥� Kemi*, 26, F

Before 2023, my transport to and from work was 鈧�500. The day after the fuel subsidy removal announcement, my transport to work alone became 鈧�500.

Today, I spend about 鈧�2,000 just getting to work, and that’s not even counting the journey back home. It still doesn’t make sense to me.

9. 鈥淲orking from home didn’t save me money after all鈥� 鈥� Precious*, 29, F

After Tinubu came into power, my transport fare increased from 鈧�400 to 鈧�1,400. To help workers cope, my company switched to a hybrid schedule. I honestly thought it would help me save money. Instead, electricity became more expensive. Data became more expensive, too. I’ve spent so much money trying to keep my home workspace running that sometimes it feels like whether I stay at home or go to the office, I’m still spending money I can’t afford to lose.

10. 鈥淲e had to sell our car to take care of our family鈥� 鈥� Eniola*, 36, F

My husband and I used to go to work together every day because our offices were close to each other. He would drop me off in the morning and pick me up after work. It worked well for years.

But recently, things became too expensive, especially the cost of maintaining the car. We eventually had to sell it so we could focus on caring for our children and keeping the family afloat. Now we spend almost twice as much on transport every day.

See what people are saying about this article on .