As Told To Boluwatife

In 2017, I thought I had cracked the code to financial security. I was wrong.

I was 34 and naively believed I was on the right path to partial retirement by 40. I鈥檇 been extremely disciplined with my finances for years. I didn鈥檛 have an expensive lifestyle or spend money without carefully considering each expense.听

My wife is also frugal, so it was easy for both of us to plan our expenses and live on the barest minimum. We mostly lived on her income while I saved mine. We had one goal in mind: to save enough to make a big investment that would secure our future.

By mid-2017, I had about 鈧�30 million saved. To me, there was only one smart thing to do with that kind of money: build a house and rent it out. I figured that in six years, I could afford to take a break from work and live on my rental income. 

Although I worked in a federal ministry parastatal, I made most of my money from my farming and mini-exportation side hustles. With steady income from rent, I could step back from juggling multiple things at once and keep my civil service job, which wasn鈥檛 as time-consuming.

I already owned land from an earlier investment when my wife and I got married, so we decided to use the entire 鈧�30 million to build a four-flat house on it.

Looking back now, I didn鈥檛 think deeply about it. I didn鈥檛 run the numbers, consider maintenance costs, or account for evil tenants. I was part of the school of thought that believed nothing could ever go wrong with investing in real estate. 

My entire reasoning was that people would always need somewhere to live. Even if everything else failed, my house would still be there, bringing in passive income.

I finished building the house in a year 鈥� I must鈥檝e spent another 鈧�8 million in unexpected expenses. In 2018, my first set of tenants moved in. I honestly felt like I had arrived.

At first, everything seemed fine. They paid their rent, and I relaxed into the idea that I had made the best decision of my life.

Then, small issues started. One tenant brought in an electrician who did what I can only describe as magic while trying to connect her generator to her flat. When she turned on the generator, it blew some connections in the next tenant鈥檚 flat, so I had to redo the wiring. 

Another tenant was always fighting with his wife and disturbing the entire compound. Someone else was leaving the pumping machine on, letting water spill聽out of the tank for hours. Almost every week, a tenant would call me to settle one issue or another.听

I handled all this alone because I didn鈥檛 have a caretaker. I鈥檇 planned to pull in a distant relative to serve that function, but he insisted he鈥檇 only do it if he lived in one of the flats. It was an expensive option because it meant I鈥檇 have to forfeit rent. I rented the flats for between 鈧�650k – 鈧�750k/year. It wasn鈥檛 small money at all.

So, I managed the house and tenants myself. It was stressful, but I told myself it came with being a landlord. What I didn鈥檛 realise was that this was just the beginning.

Over the next few years, I experienced every type of tenant problem you can imagine. I had people damage the property and refuse to fix it, rent delays and even someone subletting a flat without telling me. Instead of passive income, the house became a full-time headache.

The money wasn鈥檛 even impressive. After expenses and repairs, what I earned yearly didn鈥檛 make up for the stress or the initial 鈧�38 million investment. Still, I held on. I kept telling myself it was an asset that would bring long-term benefits.

Then I met Joel*, the tenant who almost got me into real trouble.

Joel moved in around 2021. At first, he seemed responsible. He was married, but his family lived in a different state. Work brought him to the area, so he often stayed alone. His wife and kids only came during some weekends and long holidays. He seemed unproblematic, polite even.

But everything changed when his rent expired. The excuses started. 

鈥淚鈥檓 working on it.鈥�

鈥淚 need more time to gather the money.鈥�

I tried to be understanding because he seemed like a reasonable person.

However, after three months of back-and-forth, I got tired and asked him to move out if he didn鈥檛 have the money. That鈥檚 when I began to see Joel鈥檚 true colours. This man told me to my face that I couldn鈥檛 send him out. I needed to serve him a legal six-month quit notice because he was a yearly tenant and couldn鈥檛 just leave.

It turned into a whole situation. When persuasion didn鈥檛 work, I resorted to threats, but he refused to budge. He insisted he needed a legal notice and an additional six months to 鈥減repare鈥� to leave. 

When I eventually got a lawyer involved, Joel started avoiding the house so the lawyer couldn鈥檛 serve him the notice. This went on for another month before he eventually received the quit notice.

Even after that, this man refused to pay. My lawyer explained to me that Joel was still supposed to pay me the six months鈥� rent during the notice period. But of course, he didn鈥檛 pay anything. 

Six months elapsed, but Joel still didn鈥檛 leave. My lawyer suggested taking him to court, but it felt like a complicated process. The court would take weeks, and I鈥檇 still spend money. What right did this tenant have to make me go through all of that on top of my own house? I felt cheated and disrespected.

So, one day, I snapped.

I went to the house with some area boys and forced him out. We removed his belongings from the apartment and threw them outside. To me, it felt justified. He had overstayed, refused to pay, and ignored multiple warnings.

I didn鈥檛 think about the legal consequences. A few hours later, Joel returned with police men. The officers said I鈥檇 done 鈥渦nlawful eviction鈥� and destroyed Joel鈥檚 property. 

I couldn鈥檛 believe it. I had spent 鈧�38 million building that house, and now I was the one in trouble because of it. I spent three nights in jail and paid bail of 鈧�150k before I was released.

After that, I had to go back to the court I had tried to avoid. Joel claimed I unlawfully evicted him, and it took four more months of court visits and plenty of explanations. I spent close to 鈧�500k in lawyer fees. 

In the end, Joel stopped appearing in court and quietly packed out on his own towards the end of 2023. When I learnt he鈥檇 left, I actually did thanksgiving in church. The experience was so traumatic. I still send curses his way whenever I randomly hear or see the name 鈥淛oel.鈥�

I honestly regret investing everything in that house. If I had diversified my investments, I could have built something that didn鈥檛 depend on managing human behaviour every single day and would have made significantly more money.

It鈥檚 not like owning a house is bad; I just did it with the wrong intention. I thought it would bring me easy money and let me stop worrying about needing to work. But almost 10 years later, I鈥檓 not even close to retirement. 

The house is still there. I鈥檓 more careful with tenants these days, and I still make some money from rent. But my mindset has changed. It鈥檒l never be the stress-free investment I’d hoped for. In fact, it鈥檚 been the most stressful financial decision of my life. I often wish I could turn back time and make better choices, but I can鈥檛. I only have to look ahead and focus on what else I can do. 

The only small positive note is that the house is a legacy I can pass down to my children. I鈥檓 grateful for that.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Raised 鈧�8 Million to Japa. I Was Deported the Next Day

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As Told To Boluwatife

Seven years have passed since my unfortunate attempt to leave Nigeria for a better life in a different country. Yet, I still struggle to talk about my experience. I鈥檓 not sure I鈥檒l ever recover from the embarrassment and pain I suffered.

In 2019, I was 31 and convinced that escaping Nigeria was the only way to move my life forward. I was tired of my office job at a mid-sized logistics company in Lagos, and even more frustrated by the quality of life I could afford on my 鈧�60k salary. 

I lived in a tiny self-contained apartment and couldn鈥檛 do anything besides go to the office and church every week. I couldn鈥檛 even dream about getting married or owning a car. 

Meanwhile, everywhere I turned, someone was preparing to relocate or had already relocated. A former secondary school classmate moved to Germany and began posting pictures of snowy streets in our alumni WhatsApp group chat. A cousin left for the UK and started sending videos of his new apartment. Even someone from my office was talking about their plans to leave.

Everyone in my life was moving forward while I was stuck in one position. So, naturally, I started thinking about relocating too. Unfortunately, I had no money to fund any japa dream.

A colleague at work introduced me to a travel agent who explained a pathway that involved entering an Asian country with a short-term visa and arranging longer-term options after arrival. He spoke with confidence and gave examples of people who had successfully travelled the same route. 

It sounded like a great plan, but he also quoted 鈧�15 million for the entire process 鈥� including visa processing, flight cost, accommodation arrangement and settlement support. The cost was too much for me to even imagine, let alone have somewhere. 

Still, once the idea entered my head, I couldn鈥檛 let it go. For weeks, I thought only about how to raise the money and japa. It got to a point where I regularly daydreamed about finding dollars on the floor or someone mistakenly sending 鈧�15 million to my account. 

I also started researching the japa process on my own. I realised I wouldn鈥檛 need up to 鈧�15 million if I did everything myself without a travel agent. Based on my findings, I estimated 鈧�10 million would finish the process, and I鈥檇 still have extra to hold for the first few months after I arrived in the new country. 

So, I decided to start small and raise the money slowly. I convinced myself I鈥檇 somehow raise 鈧�10 million.

First, I liquidated my entire life savings of about 鈧�700k to start the visa application process. Next, I sold my late father鈥檚 acres of land in the village for 鈧�3 million. That move caused some issues between me and some extended family members. They argued I shouldn鈥檛 have made that move without their approval, but I didn鈥檛 really care what they thought. My only focus was on leaving the country.

And it seemed like things were working out in my favour. I got a six-month visa on my first try and still had an extra 鈧�2 million in my account. I only needed to raise about 鈧�6 million more to reach the 鈧�8 million I estimated for flight costs, accommodation and settlement budget. 

For accommodation, my colleague had linked me up with someone living in the country I was planning to travel to, and he鈥檇 promised to help me get a place. I just needed to send 鈧�3 million to him. 

For the next five months, I tried everything to raise 鈧�8 million. 

I started by taking loans. At first, it was from people close to me: my elder brother, two cousins, and a church member who ran a small cooperative. When that money finished, I started asking friends. Then friends of friends, and even people in my office. Before long, I had borrowed money from more than 12 people.

I told everyone the same thing: once I settled in Asia, I would start paying back immediately. Everybody believed me because at that time, it felt like moving abroad was a shortcut to success. Once you entered, your life automatically changed.

When the loans didn鈥檛 fetch me the money I needed, I started selling my things. My TV, generator, wardrobe and even my bed. At some point, I was sleeping on top of my clothes on the floor. I convinced myself I would eventually need to sell everything off when I was travelling anyway.

As my visa expiry date drew near and I saw no sign of raising the full amount I needed, I grew even more desperate. I decided to sublet my apartment without my landlord鈥檚 knowledge. I collected 鈧�1 million for two years’ rent from a former schoolmate鈥檚 brother and told him to lie to the landlord that he was my brother who had come to stay with me from the village. 

After all my fundraising efforts, I was only able to raise an additional 鈧�4 million, bringing my account balance to 鈧�6 million. By then, I had only one week left on my visa. 

The delay had also made it impossible for me to buy plane tickets in advance at a lower price. I eventually spent 鈧�2.8 million on tickets. After I sent the 鈧�3 million to the guy who had promised to help me with accommodation, I had just 鈧�200k left. Still, I believed I could easily find work when I arrived in the new country.

I travelled with that belief. I remember my excitement that day. My siblings took me to the airport, and we took countless pictures and videos. My mum even called and sent several prayers over the phone. Everyone was happy for me. 

On the plane, I was lucky enough to sit in a window seat and took even more pictures. I kept telling myself, 鈥淢y life is about to start.鈥�

I didn鈥檛 know it had already ended.

After two layovers, I finally arrived at my destination. At immigration, the officer stared at my passport for a long time. Then he started asking several questions about the duration of my visit and how much money I had. 

Remember, I only had a few days left on my visa. Well, I told him I was there on a short two-day vacation to tour the country. I couldn鈥檛 tell him I didn’t plan to return. 

Now that I think about it, my 鈥渧acation鈥� story was too foolish. Who would鈥檝e believed I was only there for two days when I travelled with three big bags?

The immigration officer called another officer, and the two spoke for a long time in a language I didn鈥檛 understand. Then they took me into a room and started asking me detailed questions. At some point, they even asked if I had paid someone to help me disappear after entry.

I kept insisting I was just visiting. But they didn鈥檛 believe me. I spent that night in an airport detention room with three strangers. Nobody explained anything or told me what would happen next.

The next morning, the immigration officers handed me a document and said I would be returned to Nigeria immediately. They said my visa timeline was suspicious and they鈥檇 prefer to remove me from the country before any overstay occurred.

Just like that, within 24 hours of 鈥渞elocating,鈥� I found myself on a plane heading back to Nigeria. It felt like a very bad dream. I didn鈥檛 even know whether to cry or laugh. Everything happened so fast. 

The reality of my situation hit me fully when I landed in Lagos. I had no home and nothing to my name. I鈥檇 sold everything and taken multiple loans to raise 鈧�8 million to travel. 

Now, I was back to square one and even worse off than before, owing almost 鈧�3 million with no hope of how to pay it back.

For the first few weeks, I couldn鈥檛 face anybody. When relatives called for updates on my trip, I had to tell them the truth. News of my deportation travelled fast, and creditors started calling to ask when I would start repaying their money. I stopped picking up calls and eventually had to switch the phone off completely.

I initially hid in my brother鈥檚 house, but when the shame became too much, I ran to my village. The people there also knew about my failed relocation, but at least they wouldn鈥檛 come to me every day to ask about Asia. Even in the village, gossip from Lagos got to my ears. How most people thought I had run away with their money, and were cursing and mocking me. 

It was a shameful period for me. I kept imagining how everyone expected me to be doing well abroad, but I was back with absolutely nothing. I had never heard of someone who spent less than 24 hours in a country before deportation. I wanted to die. I even tried to commit suicide twice, but my relatives rescued me. 

Seven years later, I鈥檓 slowly rebuilding my life. I returned to Lagos last year after spending the last few years working with a cousin who runs a small building materials shop. 

I鈥檝e managed to repay some of the people I owed. Most of them eventually forgave my debt. I also have a better job now. My pay is still not much, but I鈥檓 surviving.

The trauma of this experience still hasn鈥檛 left me. I have nightmares about it from time to time. In my dreams, I鈥檓 coming down from a plane, and big, muscled men suddenly rush at me and push me back inside. Sometimes, I wake up crying.

Now, whenever people around me start talking about japa plans, I just keep quiet. I can鈥檛 go through that suffering again. 

I know Nigeria is even worse now, and I still want a better life. But for now, I鈥檒l try my best to find that life here. 

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Spent 鈧�15m Relocating to China With My Wife. I Often Regret It

As Told To Boluwatife

In late 2021, I was a 200-level student just coming out of the pandemic lockdown. My financial situation was manageable; a polite way of saying I was at the bottom of my family鈥檚 very long list of priorities. 

I come from a family with 11 children. My dad did his best to make sure all of us had an education 鈥� we even went to private schools 鈥�  but after fees were paid, there was nothing left for an allowance. I survived uni by taking random 鈧�10k -鈧�30k freelance writing or social media gigs.

Then, a friend of a friend introduced me to a DAO (Decentralised Autonomous Organisation), which is essentially a blockchain-based community.

I started as a social media intern, earning $300 a month. Within a month, I was promoted to team member and also joined their ambassadorship programme. Ambassadors used platforms like Discord to find and pitch our services to other decentralised organisations and startups.

My pay jumped to $700. But the real money came from the quarterly bonuses. We were building infrastructure for other crypto companies and had goals to hit. When we hit those goals, we got payouts every three months. 

I made my first million easily. My first two payouts were 鈧�700k each. Soon, I was seeing bonuses between $2,000 and $5,000 every quarter. I was a 20-year-old student pulling in millions of naira. 

I adopted a new lifestyle

When you go from managing to having everything, your brain does something funny. It convinces you the tap will never run dry. And it wasn鈥檛 just me. 

My girlfriend and some friends worked at the same company, and the new inflow changed how we thought about money. We started making questionable financial decisions.

I completely overhauled my life. I lived like a king. First, I paid two years’ rent upfront for a new apartment. I gave my old laptop to my brother and splurged 鈧�350k on a new one. Then I changed my entire wardrobe. 

Also, my girlfriend, my friends, and I bought enough food and supplies to last six months. We bought a fridge, a freezer, and furniture.

I became the family bank. I started receiving payouts from the company in November. By December, I made sure I spent a lot of money to make Christmas special for my family. Beyond that, I was gifting money like nobody鈥檚 business. I sent money to whoever asked me for it. It was crazy.

Next, the partying started. I didn鈥檛 really want to party all the time, but the thing about being in a friend group is that you can鈥檛 just back out of something everyone else is doing. I had fun sometimes, but most of the time I felt iffy about partying. 

Every time I tried to convince my friends to sit out a party, they鈥檇 be like, 鈥淟et鈥檚 do it.鈥� In the end, I鈥檇 think, 鈥淲hat the hell? I might as well.鈥�

While I was being unnecessarily generous and partying regularly, my girlfriend鈥檚 income (which was more than mine) mostly went into dealing with black tax. We lived together, and I knew she was constantly sending money to her parents and feeding her household. To cope with the stress, she bought things on impulse. Every day, delivery riders were at our door to bring clothes she didn’t need.

The 60% mistake

My life wasn鈥檛 just a big blur of spending sprees. I also tried to make what I believed were sensible financial decisions.

Instead of saving, I thought it was better to invest. All my friends were experts in Web3 and cryptocurrency, so I followed their advice and invested in crypto.

I put 60% of everything I earned back into crypto 鈥� Ethereum, my company’s token, and a few other promising coins. I thought I was being smart. 

But 2022 arrived, and the hit. Everywhere turned red, but I kept hoping the value of my assets 鈥� about $8k in total 鈥� would go back up. At the same time, infighting started at the company. Everyone wanted to be at the top of the food chain for the biggest bonus allocations. The toxic energy at work bled into our friend group. We went from supporting each other to competing.

By August 2022, the company collapsed.

I didn鈥檛 know how to stop spending

You鈥檇 expect that I鈥檇 adjust when the money stopped flowing in, right? Unfortunately, my girlfriend and I had gotten so used to a lifestyle, and we didn鈥檛 know how to pump the brakes.

I got another job earning $150/month at a startup almost immediately, but it was a drop in the ocean. My girlfriend started taking out loans to maintain our lifestyle. We fell into a classic debt trap: we鈥檇 borrow money to survive the month, get paid, use half the pay to settle debt, and then run out of money by the middle of the next month. The cycle repeated until there was nothing left to borrow.

Maybe things would鈥檝e been better if we鈥檇 managed the limited resources we had better. My girlfriend was still impulse buying and taking on family responsibilities. I can鈥檛 put the full blame on her, though. I should鈥檝e also tried to regulate our spending.

I eventually had to sell my crypto investments. I sold them for less than half of what I bought them for to clear our debts.

By November, everything was gone. My relationship ended, and my friend group fell apart. I also lost the new job because the startup didn鈥檛 even have an official operating license. 

I had to leave the apartment and move back into a school hostel 鈥� an eight-man room packed with 30 people. Imagine going from living under 24/7 AC to that kind of room. I couldn鈥檛 handle it and kept falling sick. Eventually, I ran away from the hostel to squat with a friend. 

Starting over

I spent 2023 and 2024 rebuilding. I took a PR internship that paid 鈧�40k, then moved up to 鈧�100k after about a year. I also took on a social media gig for a Web3 company for 鈧�150k. I was hungry sometimes, and I often had to do the one thing I didn鈥檛 really want to do: ask my parents for an allowance. They were surprised since I never ask, but they tried their best to send me money

Today, I鈥檓 24 and serving NYSC. I don’t have a high-paying job right now, and I don’t have any investments yet. But I have something I didn’t have at 20: Sense.

I realised that my friends and I failed because we didn’t have anyone older to guide us. We were just a bunch of 20-year-olds with too much money and zero financial literacy.

My plan for the next time the millions come? No more 60% crypto bets. I鈥檒l put 10% in ETFs and stocks. I鈥檒l also look into real estate, something tangible that won’t disappear when something goes wrong.

I鈥檒l prioritise financial stability over splurging. I have a passion for music that I鈥檇 like to explore, but I know I need a financial foundation first.

I don’t regret it, though. I must have made over 鈧�10 million in the year I worked at the DAO. So, I guess I made a 鈧�10 million sacrifice to learn how money actually works. I鈥檓 a lot less naive now. If I made all that money once, it can happen again. This time, I鈥檒l be ready to keep it.

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Saved 鈧�4m at 19 and Achieved All My Dreams. Still, I Feel Behind

As Told To Boluwatife

Growing up, I never knew what money trouble meant. I attended an expensive private school and lived a comfortable life. That changed in JSS 2 when my dad passed away.

The cracks appeared. He hadn鈥檛 left money behind for us, and my mum had to step in and do it alone. By JSS 3, I was moved to a different school. I hated the change and struggled with being limited to what my mum could afford. I developed a fierce need for my own money.

I started selling everything. I sold bracelets in school. On Sundays, I鈥檇 pack snacks and drinks into my mum鈥檚 car and sell them to church members. 

At university, a friend told me, “Abby, you鈥檙e a great writer. Do you know you can make money from this?” That was my entry into the gig economy. 

I started at a writing agency for 鈧�1 per word. Then, it went up to 鈧�1.5. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. Eventually, I realised writing gigs weren’t frequent enough, so I looked for a real job.

In 2023, during my second year, I got a job as a customer service rep for a media company, earning 鈧�40k/month. Six months later, they asked for a volunteer to manage their social media. I had experience writing YouTube scripts and content writing, so I told them to sign me up. 

By then, my customer service salary had increased to 鈧�65k. When I took on the additional social media role, the figure jumped to 鈧�105k/month.

At this point, I鈥檇 stopped going to classes. I just stayed in my hostel and worked. It didn鈥檛 matter because I鈥檓 an avid reader; I鈥檇 read my school material at the end of the day and still pull good grades.

In early 2025, I added Upwork to the mix, writing YouTube scripts. I was making at least 鈧�200k/month from Upwork alone. In the same year, I transitioned completely from customer service to the marketing manager role for the media company, and my salary dropped to 鈧�100k.

2025 was also the year I made my first million. It didn鈥檛 come from one big payday, though. I made it by being an avid, almost obsessive, saver. I never left my hostel or spent money on clothes, so I channelled my earnings into savings. 

I saved every single penny from Upwork. Sometimes I鈥檇 make $100, sometimes $300, and I didn鈥檛 spend anything. My initial goal was to save enough to buy a laptop. By the end of the year, I had saved almost 鈧�4 million.

I spent most of it fulfilling my 18-year-old dreams. I moved out of the hostel and rented an apartment for 鈧�800k, furnishing it with another 鈧�1m. Then, I bought a second-hand laptop for 鈧�300k and a phone for 鈧�500k 鈥� though I got scammed and had to spend more to swap it. The rest, about 鈧�1 million, went into savings and investments.

I鈥檓 obsessed with investing. I bought some of in 2021, and the value has skyrocketed 鈥� I’ve gotten over 100% returns. I have a few stocks, but my preferred investment instruments are mutual funds, ETFs and some crypto.听

Currently, I have three jobs: the marketing manager role (鈧�100k), a new internship I just got (鈧�101k), and a community engagement gig (鈧�30k). I don’t even spend the 鈧�30k; I split it between my ETFs and mutual funds.

My portfolio currently sits at about 鈧�600k in liquid savings and 鈧�400k in investments, though crypto volatility recently reduced the latter slightly to about 鈧�350k. I use mutual funds because they feel safe, and ETFs for the long term. I even got the apartment just because I鈥檒l soon graduate and wanted a one-year break from the pressure of family and post-grad life.

I鈥檝e ticked all these boxes, but I still don鈥檛 feel like I鈥檓 doing enough. I don鈥檛 believe I鈥檝e made it.

When I was 18, the pinnacle of success was 鈧�100k a month and an apartment. I got those things, and suddenly, they felt small. The goal posts have moved. Now, I鈥檓 20 and depressed. I feel like I need to be earning 鈧�1 million a month to feel safe. 

One of my jobs, the internship, is at a marketing agency, and I鈥檓 hoping to get retained or find a foreign company that pays better. But I have major imposter syndrome. I鈥檓 constantly scared my superiors will realise I don鈥檛 know as much as they think I do.

My next goal is to hit that 鈧�1m monthly income by the end of this year. And for once, I want to actually spend money on myself. I鈥檝e been working since I was 15, and every naira has been tied to a goal. 

People say money is just a tool, but when you鈥檝e been on both ends of the stick, you know that money can be a saviour. If there were a church for money, I鈥檇 worship there. I know exactly what it can do for a person, and I never want to be without that power again. 

I鈥檓 turning 21 soon, and I鈥檓 frustrated because I鈥檓 not where I want to be at this age. I haven’t even travelled. I鈥檝e been making money for five years, and I鈥檝e never just spent on a whim.

I鈥檝e achieved my 18-year-old dreams, but now, I鈥檓 just looking for the next finish line. I just want to hit that 鈧�1m/month mark so I can finally chill and stop running for a second. Maybe even take an international trip. I鈥檒l probably want more money when I hit 鈧�1m, but let me get there first. 

*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Gave Up My Career for My Husband. Now, I鈥檓 40 and Starting Over

He shares how he navigated the world of social media growth, his transition into high finance, and the exact mathematical strategy he鈥檚 using to reach 10 figures by his 30th birthday.

As Told To Boluwatife

The Early Hustle: Selling Clout from a Dorm Room

I was 15 when I stumbled into the right WhatsApp groups. Back then, I was active on Twitter and found my way into these closely knit circles with top influencers. I struck up a friendship with a guy who managed a B-list artist. Because I had free time, I鈥檇 help him with small admin tasks, like contacting people and managing PR group chats. I was basically a digital errand boy for free.

This relationship taught me how valuable social media popularity was. People were crazy about amassing followers, and I realised I could make money from it without being famous myself.

My manager friend put me on. He taught me the strategy behind social media growth: how to engineer organic and inorganic follower growth.

I did that by partnering with a friend who brought in clients 鈥� influencers and other people who wanted to grow their accounts 鈥� while I provided the technical know-how. I found a team of Vietnamese suppliers who could generate dormant and bot Instagram accounts and followers in bulk. I鈥檇 buy them in units, let’s say 500 or 1,000 followers per unit, and ship them out to the influencers.

By the time I was 17 and in 100 level, we were selling up to 100 units a week. We鈥檇 sell a unit for about 鈧�4,000, take out the cost of paying the Vietnamese guys, and split the profit 60/40. I was netting 鈧�140k a week. In a month, I was making over 鈧�500k in net profit. 

That鈥檚 how I hit my first million.

Managing the Windfall

Making that much money wasn鈥檛 entirely new to me because I grew up privileged, but it did fuel a bad habit: gambling. Having so much free time and “easy” money led me to sports betting. At one point, 30% of my income was just going into gambling.

The wake-up call to quit gambling came one evening in 2022. I was broke, and when I looked at my bank statement, I saw that all my money had gone to bets. I knew I was ruining my life and needed to do something better.

I turned to my father, a finance professional, and asked him to introduce me to a friend who ran a microlending business. I鈥檇 seen their financials and wanted in on the profits. This friend鈥檚 primary customers were traders on Lagos Island. These traders often bought and sold goods in large quantities and always needed cash. 

The risk of lending was high because they might not repay the money, but if they did, I could make far more money. I took the risk and gave 鈧�1 million to one trader. She de-risked it and spread it across 10 traders at 鈧�100k each. Then she got it back in instalments and paid me 鈧�28,000 every single Sunday for an entire year. That was a 50% upside. It taught me that regardless of how much you gamble, you need a consistent cash flow that hits your bank account like clockwork.

The Transition: From Clout to Private Equity

By late 2024, the Instagram business had become unprofitable. The platform鈥檚 security measures tightened, and they began banning bot accounts. Also, I bought the accounts and followers with dollars, and when the exchange rate spiked, it became too expensive to buy accounts that might get banned.

Plus, I had just graduated. It was time to face the real world. Two weeks after leaving uni, I moved into Investment Banking.

I started as an “intern”, but it was a real job at a . Several people had resigned when I joined, and I had to quickly get acclimatised with how investment banking worked in Nigeria. I worked long hours, often staying at work late into the night.

My pay started at 鈧�70k/month, then jumped to 鈧�150k three months later when I started my NYSC. After my service year, my role became 鈥済raduate trainee鈥�, bumping my pay to 鈧�320k.

I worked there for two years, and recently switched jobs. I now work in Private Equity (PE). Salaries at PE firms are usually higher than at Investment Banks (IB). This is because while IB earns fees on deals, PEs earn more from carried interest and management fees on the fund raised (even if they haven鈥檛 invested the money yet). 

Plus, in the Nigerian market, most deals are capital market transactions (such as and ). There are multiple IBs offering the same services and hustling for the same pie. PEs have an edge.

Also, moving to Private Equity, my job band jumped to Senior Associate, which was higher than my Analyst band at the IB. My base pay is 鈧�45 million per annum. That鈥檚 roughly 鈧�2.5 million monthly, plus other allowances.

In Private Equity, we “eat what we kill.” I work on infrastructure assets 鈥� think of guys like Dangote wanting to build a refinery. If I buy an asset that does well and close the right deals, I鈥檒l earn huge bonuses from the income the firm generates from those deals. Since I鈥檓 just starting, I鈥檒l probably make between 鈧�10m and 鈧�20m in bonuses by the end of the year. 

However, at the rate I鈥檓 going, I project I will start making the big bucks in two years; at least 鈧�70 million in yearly bonuses.

The Strategy: How I鈥檓 Hitting 鈧�1 Billion by 30

I鈥檒l turn 30 in nine years. The math for a billion is doable, but it requires discipline and aggressive planning. 

Here is the breakdown:

1. High Savings Rate: I spend very little and don鈥檛 plan to get married before 30, so there aren鈥檛 many things coming to take my money away. I can comfortably live on about 鈧�12m 鈥� 鈧�18m a year and save about 60% of my total income.
2. Fixed Income: My investment strategy is pretty simple: fixed income and equity. When rates are high (above 23%), I lock money away in fixed income. Because of my background in investment banking, I know where to get higher (and riskier) rates that aren’t available to the general public, like private notes or asset-backed facilities, sometimes at up to 25% tax-free interest.
3. The Equities Gospel: I don’t trade crypto anymore because I lost everything (about $3k when I was making money from Instagram) when . I learned my lesson.听

Now, I watch the stock market. I pay attention to volumes. If I see a dormant stock suddenly start moving, I know someone big is buying. I call my more investment-savvy mentors to confirm, and I follow the money. Higher risks come with higher returns, and I can make a 40% upside (and more) from making the right plays.

4. Compounding Bonuses: If I earn 鈧�70m in bonuses for the next nine years, that鈥檚 鈧�630m. When you add my salary, my high savings rate, and the 40% upside from aggressive equity plays, the path to 鈧�1 billion is clear.听

Even if my bonus projection doesn鈥檛 work out how I envision it, my current 鈧�45 million income won鈥檛 stay static. If I get a promotion in a year or two, I鈥檒l move to 鈧�75m. I could also move jobs and double my income.

Of course, these are all projections. A COVID 2.0 can come and set the world back. I could lose my job and need to start afresh. I could also wake up with the desire to secure a Master鈥檚 Degree. Still, with all that, I should walk away with about 鈧�200 million.

Future Plans: Hard Assets

Interestingly, I haven鈥檛 thought about what I鈥檒l do when I hit a billion. I don鈥檛 think anything will change. I鈥檒l still work for people who have money to buy assets, and maybe earn enough to buy one for myself and run it.

By 40, I want to own hard assets. If it鈥檚 not a marginal field, it will be a power plant. I鈥檓 not the guy who takes things from zero to one, but I take them from 10 to 100. I know how to build the models, raise the capital, and operate the business.

People often say I鈥檓 “too young” when I walk into rooms, but I don’t let that stop me. I don’t spend money lavishly. I鈥檓 disconnected from the typical social pressure to spend. My only goal is to keep the structures lean and the numbers working.

Adeniyi鈥檚 Actionable Steps for Wealth Building:

• Don’t do it alone: My biggest asset isn’t my salary; it’s my friends in the market and my mentors who tell me when I’m messing up. Join professional circles where people talk about why the market is moving, not just that it鈥檚 moving.
• Arbitrage your time: Use your free time to find a digital niche or side hustle. Use the capital from your side hustle to fund your education or certifications to enter a high-ceiling industry.
• Protect against inflation: Use as a buffer, but use for actual growth.
• Know your math: I track my portfolio on a laptop and run simulations. If you don’t know your numbers, you don’t have a strategy. You cannot grow what you don’t measure. Use a spreadsheet to track every naira that enters and exits, and project your growth based on different interest rate scenarios.

*Subject鈥檚 name has been changed for anonymity.

ALSO READ: How I Built a 7-Figure Income Source While Still in University

聽for relatable stories and actionable insights to help you make the most out of your money.

As Told To Boluwatife

The possibility of relocating to China first began taking root in my mind in late 2023.

The idea came from Clara*, a friend I met in 2016 at my NGO job. We鈥檇 remained close even after we both left the NGO. That year, I learnt she鈥檇 gotten married and moved to China to study. Clara sold me the dream. She talked about scholarships, monthly stipends for international students, and China’s status as the world’s manufacturing hub.听

“You鈥檙e literally studying for free and the stipends will cover your living expenses. You can also do business on the side,” she said. “You won’t even want to come back.”

I was doing okay for myself in Nigeria. I was an outlet manager for an oil and gas company. My salary was between 鈧�500k and 鈧�700k a month, depending on allowances. I had a car and lived in a good house. My life was stable. 

Still, I knew better than to imagine my future was secure in Nigeria. With all the ways Nigeria can happen to a person, it鈥檚 almost impossible not to look elsewhere. 

So, I bought the China dream. I sold the idea to my wife, and we started the process in 2024.

The Money Just Kept Piling Up

The first mistake I made was not researching enough before jumping headlong into the japa plan.

I didn’t have a budget because I didn’t know what I was getting into. All I knew was that my wife and I needed to secure graduate school admission to relocate. Clara would plug us to an agent, and everything would go smoothly.

It didn鈥檛 exactly happen like that.

The agency fees and application costs came in bits. “Pay this for the agency,” “Pay that for the school.” Because it didn’t come in a single lump sum, I didn’t realise how deep I was going until I was already neck-deep.

We paid about 鈧�3 million in agency fees and application costs. We had to apply to several schools to make sure my wife and I could attend the same university. A lot of time also went into trying to get the best scholarship offer available. 

In China, they have what you call 鈥淭ype A鈥� and 鈥淭ype B鈥� scholarships. The provisions of each scholarship differ by school, but they mostly offer full tuition, accommodation, and stipends. The typical difference between the types is the amount of monthly stipends they offer. 

鈥淭ype A鈥� students received a monthly stipend of up to 2000 RMB (about 鈧�450k). 鈥淭ype B鈥� stipends were usually around 1000 RMB. Unfortunately, my wife and I got the 鈥淭ype B鈥� scholarship.

Still, Clara encouraged us to keep our minds open and continue with the process. Next came visa processing and document authentication, which took another 鈧�1 million. 

Even after admission and visas were sorted, we faced another delay and additional expense due to a name error on my documents. We couldn’t book flights early, and ended up paying almost 鈧�4 million for tickets. 

By the time we landed in China in September 2025, I had drained my savings. The whole process cost me roughly 鈧�15 million. This includes the 鈧�2 million cash we arrived in China with as an emergency fund.

The Reality Check

The perfect life we were promised hit a wall the moment we arrived.

First, the scholarship stipend wasn’t what we expected. Instead of the 1000 RMB we were promised, we learnt we鈥檇 only get 500 RMB. As if that wasn鈥檛 enough, Clara had told us that, in addition to the monthly stipend, our supervisors would also pay us an allowance for studying with them. 

So, we calculated that we鈥檇 get at least 500 RMB from our supervisors, bringing our total stipends to 1500 RMB each. We estimated that it would be enough to live comfortably, save and even send money home.

However, we got there and learnt that supervisors only paid medical students and laboratory research assistants. We were studying tourism management, so no money for us. We had to find a way to live on a 500 RMB monthly stipend.

Unfortunately, the 鈥渕onthly鈥� stipend didn鈥檛 come monthly. They didn鈥檛 pay us for the first three months. They have this centralised system where if one person in the whole international student group hasn’t finished their bank registration and other documentation, nobody gets paid.

During the admission acceptance process, we paid a refundable commitment fee of 2400 RMB per person. We鈥檇 been told we鈥檇 get the money back as soon as we resumed. But we didn鈥檛. The money only came after three months, when we eventually got our first stipend.

That meant we had to stretch the 鈧�2 million we brought with us to China to the limit for the first three months. It wasn鈥檛 even up to 鈧�2 million because we spent about 鈧�1.2 million on medicals and residence permits upon arrival. 

Those first three months were tough. In addition to suddenly accepting that our financial projections had changed, we incurred a few unnecessary expenses because we were newbies. We initially took several taxi rides because we didn鈥檛 know how much cheaper buses were. 

The Chinese are also very smart people. Once they noticed we didn鈥檛 know the language and relied on Google Translate, they overcharged us for things like meals and SIM cards.

Another shocker has been the housing. Clara gets to stay with her husband and their baby. However, my school is different. I think it鈥檚 because they just started their own international student program. Even though we are a married couple, the school put us in separate dorms. 

So, during the day, my wife comes to my room, we cook together in the common kitchen, we eat, and then at night she returns to her own room. I鈥檓 a married man, but I鈥檓 sleeping in a bunk bed with four other men. I can鈥檛 afford to get an apartment because we aren’t allowed to work on a student visa. If they catch you, it could result in deportation.

It鈥檚 interesting how I expected that I鈥檇 be sending money home regularly. Instead, I was the one getting support from home for the first few months after I arrived. Things are a little better now. At least we鈥檝e gotten the stipend. 

The only small problem is that they paid six months’ worth of stipends at once. So, instead of monthly, they pay every six months. We鈥檝e had to live very frugally because if the stipend finishes before the next one comes in, we鈥檇 have to be fully dependent on support from home. Thankfully, we brought a lot of foodstuff from Nigeria, so that鈥檚 helping a bit.

When I think about all these things, I regret leaving everything and spending so much to come here. I call Clara almost every week to share my frustrations. I know she didn鈥檛 plan to intentionally give me wrong information. She was just acting on what she knew; I should have done my own thorough research. 

To be fair, I sometimes have some 鈥淭hank God for China鈥� moments. 

My wife needed surgery a few weeks ago, and our student health insurance covered the entire cost. The hospital treated her so well, like an egg. I compared the cost of the surgery in Nigeria, and it would have cost 鈧�2.5 million. Plus, she wouldn鈥檛 have gotten that level of care.

It鈥檚 not just the hospital. I don鈥檛 fear for my life here. I recently heard about someone killing a whole family over inheritance in Kano. Here, I鈥檝e never even seen a gun. My lecturer, a doctor, said she has never seen a real gun in her life except in movies. I can walk outside at 2:00 a.m. to buy something, and I don鈥檛 even look behind me. The data is unlimited and cheap. The light doesn’t go off.

What鈥檚 Next?

Right now, I鈥檓 still moving between regret and resignation. One day, I鈥檓 happy to be here; the next, I鈥檓 regretting my life choices. I鈥檝e been here for four months. I know how much I would鈥檝e made back in Nigeria. Instead, I鈥檓 living from hand to mouth, trying to survive. 

Thankfully, I still manage to send 鈧�30k home every month to my mum and my junior siblings, because I have to keep my word. Still, this wasn鈥檛 the life I hoped for.

The plan now is to find a way into business. I鈥檓 sending out quotations to people who want to buy things from China. If that clicks and I start making a profit, I鈥檒l stay, maybe do a PhD to extend my visa, and find a way to move out of this dorm so I can live with my wife properly. If that doesn鈥檛 work, we鈥檒l have to carry ourselves back to Nigeria.

China is full of opportunities, and I know there鈥檚 a chance I will make it here. I just have a lot of mixed feelings. I wouldn鈥檛 discourage anyone from coming here, just make sure you know the real cost. Arm yourself with the right information, and be prepared for anything.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: I Spent 鈧�20m Trying To Save My Dad. He Still Died

For years, taxation in Nigeria has beend. It was a complex maze of overlapping laws and rules that were difficult to interpret, even for those who wanted to comply. Most Nigerians experienced it simply as deductions from their salary, VAT on everyday purchases, or something they hoped to avoid altogether.

The government promises the new tax laws will change that. According to policymakers, the reforms are designed to reduce the burden on low-income earners and small businesses, simplify compliance, and use technology to improve enforcement, particularly among high-income earners and large companies.

So, what actually changed? And what does it mean for your money?

The Reset: What Changed in Plain Terms

Previously, Nigeria鈥檚 tax system was , each targeting a specific type of taxpayer. The outcome was a complex system that was difficult to navigate and easy to exploit.

The 2026 reforms consolidate much of this framework into two central laws, with a few targeted changes to clarify provisions and streamline enforcement:

• The Nigeria Tax Act (NTA): This outlines what is taxed and the corresponding amount.
  
• The Nigeria Tax Administration Act (NTAA): This governs the collection, monitoring, and enforcement of taxes.
  

The intent is straightforward: 

1. Simplify the rules.
2.  Reduce pressure on lower-income Nigerians
3.  Close the gaps that allowed significant income to remain untaxed.

At its core, the Nigeria Tax Act 2025 is designed to standardise how taxes are administered, reduce confusion, and improve collection efficiency, rather than introducing entirely new taxes.

How Tax Is Actually Paid in Nigeria

Nigeria uses a self-assessment system; however, not everyone pays their taxes the same way.

• Salaried employees: Your employer handles everything through the Pay-As-You-Earn (PAYE) system. They calculate, deduct, and remit your tax before your salary hits your account. Your main job is to check that deductions are correct.
  
• Self-employed or business owners: You are responsible for declaring income, calculating tax, and paying it directly. The government relies on your declaration, supported by bank and identity data.
  

Think of it like this: PAYE is automatic; self-assessment is trust-but-verify.

What The New Laws Mean for Salaries and Personal Income

If you earn a salary, freelance, or make money from multiple income streams, this is where the impact is most direct.

1. The 鈧�800,000 Exemption

Under the new law, anyone earning 鈧�800,000 or less per year is exempt from personal income tax. This also applies to Minimum wage earners.

This means:

• No PAYE deductions
  
• No personal income tax liability

For low-income earners who previously saw small but painful deductions from already tight salaries, this is a meaningful change.

2. Rent Relief (Applies to All Income Earners)

The 2026 tax laws introduce a rent relief that applies to all income earners. Under this provision, you can deduct 20% of your annual rent from your taxable income, capped at 鈧�500,000. This means that even if 20% of your rent is higher than 鈧�500,000, the maximum amount the tax authority will allow you to deduct is 鈧�500,000.

If you鈥檙e a salaried employee, your employer will factor this deduction into your monthly PAYE calculation, reducing the tax withheld from your salary.

 If you鈥檙e self-employed or running a business, you subtract the relief from your total income when calculating what you owe. In either case, it simply lowers the amount of tax you are required to pay, leaving more in your annual take-home pay.

Why this matters: Rent is one of the biggest expenses for most Nigerians. By reducing the portion of your income that is taxed, this relief lowers your final tax bill, even if your salary itself hasn鈥檛 changed.

To benefit from this deduction, you must be able to prove your rent payments. In practice, this means providing a rent receipt. For salaried employees, this may involve submitting the receipt to your employer so the relief can be factored into PAYE calculations and forwarded to the tax authority.

3. Higher Earners Pay More

The new system is explicitly progressive, so the more you earn, the higher the rate applied to your top income. The highest tax rate is now 25%, which only applies to individuals earning over 鈧�50 million per year.

In simple terms:

• Low earners pay nothing
  
• All Income earners benefit from reliefs
  
• High earners contribute a higher share
  

Progressive Tax Rates for Individuals

How to read it: Each bracket applies only to the portion of your income that falls within it, not your entire salary. For example, if you earn 鈧�12 million annually, the first 鈧�800,000 is tax-free, the next 鈧�2.2 million is taxed at 15%, and the remaining 鈧�9 million is taxed at 18%.

Who Gets the 鈧�100 Million Business Exemption

This is one of the most misunderstood aspects of the reform, primarily because the terms 鈥渂usiness鈥� and 鈥渃ompany鈥� have distinct meanings under Nigerian tax law.

Here鈥檚 how it works:

Who qualifies for the 鈧�100 million exemption under the 2026 framework

• registered with the Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC).
  
• If an incorporated company鈥檚 annual turnover is below 鈧�100 million, it is classified as a small company.
  
• Small companies are exempt from Company Income Tax (CIT).
  

Who does not qualify

• Business names, even if registered with CAC.
  
• Freelancers, consultants, and side hustles.
  
• Sole proprietors and self-employed individuals.
  

These categories are not taxed under Company Income Tax (CIT). Instead, their income is taxed under personal income tax, which means the 鈧�100 million exemption does not apply to them. 

It is important to note that the exemption applies to company income tax, not all business income. The company might still be liable for otheror taxes on income that don鈥檛 fall under CIT.

Even exempt companies must register with the tax authority, file annual returns and maintain basic records. Failing to file, even when no tax is due, can still attract penalties. Exemption only reduces the tax payable; it does not exempt you from your obligation to remain visible in the tax system. 

What Medium & Large Companies Now Pay

Companies with annual turnover above 鈧�100 million are subject to tax under the 2026 reforms. Medium and large companies must pay two main taxes on profits: Company Income Tax (CIT) at a rate of 30% and a Development Levy at 4%, resulting in a total tax burden of approximately 34% of their profits.

Note: Companies in the oil and gas sector follow a separate tax system, which includes taxes such as the Hydrocarbon Tax (see Section 72 of the Nigerian Tax Act).

The takeaway: Cross the 鈧�100 million revenue line, and you jump straight from 0% tax to about 34% on profits. There鈥檚 no middle ground.

Minimum Tax for Very Large Companies

For extremely large companies, the law sets a minimum effective tax rate, which applies to:

• Companies in a Multinational Entity group with a total group turnover of at least 拢750 million (or equivalent), and
  
• Any company with an aggregate turnover of 鈧�50 billion or more in the financial year.

These companies are required to pay at least 15% of their profits in tax. For example, if a company earns 鈧�50 billion in a year, 15% of that is 鈧�7.5 billion. Even if their normal tax calculations would result in less, they must top up their payment to reach 鈧�7.5 billion, ensuring the government collects a minimum share.

Bank Access, BVN, and Surveillance Fears: What the Taxman Can Really Do

One of the biggest worries about the 2026 tax laws is whether the government can indiscriminately  access or debit your bank account. Here鈥檚 what you need to know:

• More visibility, not control: Tax registration now relies on BVN and NIN, linking your identity to financial activity. Banks must report transaction data more transparently to the Nigeria Revenue Service (NRS).
  
• No arbitrary debits: Tax authorities cannot automatically withdraw money. Any enforcement must follow due process, including assessments, notices, and the right to respond.
  
• Self-assessment still applies:
  
  • Independent earners and business owners declare their income, calculate tax owed, and pay it.
    
  • If spending or transactions significantly exceed declared income, the tax authority may query you, but legal procedures must be followed.
    

For salaried employees:

• Employers still calculate, deduct, and remit PAYE before salaries are paid.
  
• Employees must also file an annual tax return declaring all income, even if PAYE has been handled by their employer. This usually involves:
  
  • Gathering all income information: salary slips, allowances, bonuses, and side income.
    
  • Using the tax authority鈥檚 online portal (e-filing with your TIN).
    
  • Declaring all income, including amounts already reported via PAYE.
    
  • Submitting the return to ensure your records are accurate and compliant.
    
  • Keeping receipts, payslips, and correspondence for a few years in case of queries.
    

Filing is primarily a confirmation process; you usually won鈥檛 owe extra if your employer has already deducted correctly, but it ensures your Tax Identification Number (TIN) record is accurate and protects you legally.

• Transaction notes don鈥檛 matter: Words like 鈥渇ood money鈥� or 鈥渦rgent鈥� don鈥檛 affect tax liability. Authorities focus on patterns, volume, and frequency.
  
• Record-keeping is crucial: Maintain clear documentation of all personal and business transactions to avoid misclassification of funds.

What to Do Now

• Get a Tax ID (TIN): It鈥檚 increasingly required for banking and formal transactions. You can apply and get one online in just a few taps through your state鈥檚 tax portal. Once approved, your TIN links your identity to the tax system and keeps your records up to date.

• Separate personal and business finances, especially if you run a small business.
  
• Check your payslip: If you earn under 鈧�800,000 annually and still see PAYE deductions, something is wrong.
  
• Use available reliefs: Rent relief only works if it鈥檚 properly declared.
  

Nigerians who have not been tax-compliant in previous years may feel the impact of the reforms more sharply, as the new enforcement systems rely on clearer records and structured filings.

The Bottom Line

The 2026 tax reforms are not perfect, but their direction is clear: reduce pressure on low-income earners, simplify compliance for small businesses, and tighten oversight where the money is.

For most Nigerians trying to earn, save, and build stability, the system is, on paper, more favourable than before. But it rewards transparency and organisation, not avoidance.

The days of being entirely invisible to the tax system are fading. Whether that becomes a burden or a benefit depends largely on how well you understand the rules and how prepared you are to work within them.

Note: This article has been reviewed for accuracy by tax lawyers and tax consultants.

Read Next: Nigeria鈥檚 Digital Debt Trap: The Human Cost of Loan Apps and Instant Credit

 for relatable stories and actionable insights to help you make the most out of your money.

Tunde*, 29, had lived in the UK for barely three months when the requests started pouring in. 

It was 2023, and his move on a Global Talent Visa had wiped out 90% of his savings. But the proof his friends and family members needed to believe he now had disposable income was the social media pictures announcing his relocation.

鈥淚 didn鈥檛 even have a job in the UK yet,鈥� he recalls. 鈥淚 was still working remotely with the company I left in Nigeria, earning naira and trying to survive as I job-hunted. But how many people could I explain that to? Everyone thought I鈥檇 made it.鈥� 

Every week, Tunde received WhatsApp messages and Twitter DMs from people asking for financial help and immigration assistance. 鈥淎 cousin I hadn鈥檛 spoken to in years asked me to connect her with an agent who could help her secure a visa,鈥� he says. 鈥淲hen I told her I didn鈥檛 use one, and she could find the information online, she said, 鈥楯ust say you don鈥檛 want to help me.鈥欌��

Tunde鈥檚 breaking point came in August 2023 when he woke up to 15 missed calls on WhatsApp from his uncle at 2 a.m. Fearing something had happened, he rang his uncle back, only to find out he was calling to ask for money. His son was getting married, and he wanted Tunde to help with 鈧�200k. 

鈥淗e said it was just about 拢200, so I should be able to afford it,鈥� Tunde laughs dryly. 鈥淭his man didn鈥檛 even know how I got to the UK and how I was surviving. He just heard I was abroad and called to bill me.鈥� 

When Tunde refused to send him money, his uncle tried to guilt-trip him, saying he didn鈥檛 understand the importance of family. He also reminded Tunde that he鈥檇 bought his diapers when he was a baby. 

After that incident, Tunde turned off his read receipts on WhatsApp, blocked most of his extended family and locked his Twitter DMs. It鈥檚 been two years since, and while he鈥檚 in a better financial situation now, he still desperately avoids what he calls the 鈥淣igerian entitlement鈥� to other people鈥檚 money. 

鈥淥nce you start helping out, you can never stop. If you do, you become the devil in their eyes. I鈥檓 the black sheep of the family now, but I prefer to be hated than to let anyone suck me dry.鈥�

Tunde鈥檚 situation is one that many Nigerians, both at home and abroad, find relatable. Whether you鈥檙e landing your first job, announcing a promotion or quietly buying a new car, expectation comes knocking the moment you look like you can give.

In Nigeria, generosity is often expected. Once an individual 鈥渂lows鈥� (slang meaning an improved financial status), they鈥檒l most likely become a walking emergency fund. Cousin鈥檚 rent, friend鈥檚 wedding, mother鈥檚 church donation, neighbour鈥檚 medical bill 鈥� everyone looks to the person for help when needs arise. 

However, behind the 鈥渦rgent 鈧�2k鈥� jokes lies something deeper. In a country where social systems barely function, people have become each other鈥檚 safety nets. When healthcare, education, and employment fail, help from others becomes the only form of welfare Nigerians fall back on.

It鈥檚 no coincidence that Nigeria remains one of the top remittance-receiving countries in the world. In 2024, Nigerians abroad , according to remittance data from the World Bank. This figure marked the highest level in five years, with a notable year-on-year increase of 8.9%. In July 2024 alone, , a 130% increase from July 2023.听

While Olayemi Cardoso, Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), attributes these figures to economic reforms and new CBN policies that encourage more Nigerians in the diaspora to choose formal channels for remitting funds, it鈥檚 also an indication that many Nigerian residents depend on the for survival money.

Following a , Nigeria鈥檚 headline inflation appears to be decreasing on paper (down to 16.05% in October 2025), but and remain largely underrepresented.

The inference is simple: With many Nigerians out of jobs or underemployed, and battling with the steep cost of living, success signals ripple out. When someone starts earning well or receives a windfall, they become an entire community鈥檚 safety net. More often than not, this knits support and expectation so tightly that boundaries become blurred.

Temi, a 28-year-old product designer in Lagos, calls her family group chat 鈥渁 monthly GoFundMe.鈥�

鈥淢y parents are retired, and my two younger siblings are in university. Every other month, there鈥檚 a new emergency: rent, medical bills their HMO plans don鈥檛 cover, pocket money and school needs. If I say I can鈥檛 help this time, they鈥檒l remind me of my recent purchases or travels. Suddenly, my personal choices are public considerations.鈥�

This communal culture is in action in many Nigerian low-income households. When one child rises, they rise for many. Over time, it becomes less of a choice and more of an obligation.

Yet the pressure isn鈥檛 purely financial. It鈥檚 also emotional: the guilt of success and the worry that refusal becomes a betrayal. 

鈥淚 can鈥檛 be earning over 鈧�1 million monthly and leave my family to suffer. It鈥檚 unnatural,鈥� Temi says. 鈥淢y parents took multiple loans to send me to a private university and set me up for the success I enjoy today. My elder brother even had to drop out so I could stay in school. Yes, I often feel overwhelmed with responsibilities and feel like they鈥檙e too demanding, but there鈥檚 no one else who鈥檒l come to their rescue if I don鈥檛.鈥� 

Even though Temi’s income places her in the , she has almost no savings or a wealth management portfolio due to the expectation of 鈥溾�� and the entitlement that comes with the Nigerian culture of communal success, where money flows upward and sideways before it flows inward.

But when the flow becomes a flood, resentment begins to build quietly under the surface. This phenomenon isn鈥檛 limited to family expectations; it also leaks into friendships and relationships. 

Chika*, 31, has been close friends with her two friends for 12 years, but over the last two years, she鈥檚 noticed a difference in their dynamic. The switch began after she changed jobs and got a 300% pay increase, a move that made her the highest earner in the friend group.

鈥淚 began to notice that my friends expected more from me,鈥� Chika says. 鈥淲e used to pool funds together for group outings and staycations, but now they tell me, 鈥榊ou be rich madam na. Pay for us.鈥欌��

Chika insists she doesn鈥檛 mind spoiling her friends; the problem is that it has now become a constant expectation for her to handle the bills. Once, she joked about spending all her money on her friends, and one of them accused her of being stingy. 

The switch from choice to responsibility is subtle. What started as mutual support turns into expectation. And sometimes, introducing boundaries or resistance can sour relationships.

For Chika, resisting this obligation has meant reducing contact [with her friends]. 鈥淲hen I complained, my friend said, 鈥楬ow much are you spending? Is it not just our once-in-a-while outings?鈥� That hurt because it鈥檚 not like they鈥檙e broke. I鈥檓 unmarried; they have husbands who also support them financially. It doesn鈥檛 make sense for me to do everything because I earn more. I still love my friends and I know they don鈥檛 necessarily mean me harm, but the cost is making me avoid group outings these days.鈥�

While people with friends like Chika can introduce distance to limit financial expectations, it鈥檚 a different play in romantic relationships, where money and love seem to be inextricably entangled. 

In the realm of Nigerian relationships, the message is loud: if you love me, you鈥檒l support me financially.

Kemi, 27, once dated a man who got upset when she refused to invest in his business. 鈥淗e said if I believed in him, I鈥檇 show it with money. I was like, sir, I’m your girlfriend, not your bank.鈥�

Here again, the expectation is collective success: your partner鈥檚 dream becomes your reality. These aren鈥檛 isolated incidents; they鈥檙e reflections of a society where economic hardship has blurred the lines between emotional and financial roles. When survival is a love language, money becomes a form of affection and a means of validation.

When entitlement doesn鈥檛 come in the form of familial or romantic expectations, it shines in the heavy influence of religion.

In Nigeria, blessings are often tied to giving, and giving is connected to being 鈥渁 good person.鈥� The scriptures come out quickly when someone needs help: 鈥淕od loves a cheerful giver.鈥� 鈥淵our reward is in heaven.鈥�

Adewale, 33, says a random church member once sent him a WhatsApp message that read like a sermon outline, complete with Bible verses about generosity, all because he said he couldn鈥檛 loan him 鈧�500k to start a business.

鈥淚t was like he was trying to guilt-trip me with Jesus,鈥� he laughs. 鈥淎s if refusing to give meant I didn鈥檛 fear God.鈥�

Religious communities often operate like extended families. If you鈥檙e 鈥渄oing well,鈥� you鈥檙e expected to support church projects, mosque renovations, welfare programs, and allow yourself to be in a position to be someone鈥檚 鈥渉elper鈥�, sometimes at the expense of your own financial stability. 

Your prosperity isn鈥檛 just yours; it鈥檚 seen as evidence of God鈥檚 goodness to the collective. So, when you say 鈥淚 can鈥檛,鈥� what people hear is 鈥淚 won鈥檛 let God use me.鈥�

Angel Yinkore, Consultant Psychotherapist at , says entitlement is a universal human trait, amplified by Nigeria’s communal society and high poverty rates. While it exists differently in the different socio-economic classes, it鈥檚 more prevalent and normalised in the approximately 139 million Nigerians who live in poverty.听

鈥淲hen a low-income family rallies to send one child to school, and that child makes it out of the hood, they鈥檙e expected to lift everyone else out of poverty or at least provide for their parents and siblings. It鈥檚 like a long-term investment.鈥�

This expectation can also transcend family lines. 鈥淏ecause Nigerian societies are more communal than individualistic, everyone in a community feels like a stakeholder in a child鈥檚 life,鈥� Angel explains. 鈥淪o, they expect to share in whatever success the child attains. The more successful a person is, the wider the net of people who feel entitled to their success. 

A multinational company could announce you as its CEO today, and people from your parents鈥� village who have never met you will go, 鈥楾hat鈥檚 our child,鈥� as though they had anything to do with it.鈥�

Angel clarifies that entitlement in itself isn鈥檛 always a problem. It鈥檚 what comes after it. 鈥淣igerians can share in the success of an athlete who represents the country internationally and wins awards. We feel a sense of pride and some connection to that success. However, sometimes, as in the case of the black tax, it doesn鈥檛 end with feeling connected to the person. Entitlement then comes with manipulation and threats; an obligation to share your resources.鈥�

Angel emphasises that addressing poverty in the country is crucial to solving the wave of this phenomenon, as people feel entitled due to financial instability and the pressure of staying afloat. 

鈥淲e have to look at it as a systemic thing. People are poor. You can鈥檛 expect someone living on 鈧�500, then their brother wins the lottery, and you tell them not to feel entitled to help.鈥�

As it is in all things, balance is key to navigating the Nigerian sense of entitlement. 

Tunde is adamant about creating boundaries, but he helps when he can. 鈥淚 call it structured generosity,鈥� he jokes. 鈥淚 budget what I can give close family members every other month, and I鈥檓 done once I hit that limit. I know people still call me stingy, but I鈥檓 not doing this to be liked. I know some people actually need help, and I do what I can. Nothing more.鈥�

Finance manager Seyi A. agrees. 鈥淗elp, but don鈥檛 self-destruct. You can鈥檛 pour from an empty account. You鈥檙e not the government. The best help is sustainable help. Give what doesn鈥檛 deplete your finances.鈥�

Sustainable help doesn鈥檛 always have to be cash. It could be connecting someone to a job, sharing information, offering mentorship, or even emotional support.

The nuance is that you鈥檙e still generous, but you also take care to watch out for your survival. In a country where inflation is a significant concern, and many live without financial buffers, the expectation that one person will carry the burden of many is unfair. Because if everybody owes everybody, no one truly rests.

And in a country where help is both a virtue and a burden, learning when to stop giving might just be the kindest thing we do for ourselves and for each other.

Perhaps the new lens is this: generosity remains a virtue, but entitlement should not be the default.

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.

for relatable stories and actionable insights to help you make the most out of your money.

In this story, Folake recounts how losing her financial independence and her husband鈥檚 spending habits pushed their relationship to the brink, and how separating their finances became the unexpected solution that saved their marriage.

As Told To Boluwatife

The worst fight of my marriage happened a few days after our first anniversary, and it was because of money. 

My husband, Diran, had taken 鈧�200k out of our joint account without telling me. He didn鈥檛 do it for any sinister reason; we both had access to the account and could withdraw money at will. Our one rule was to inform the other of the transaction and what we planned to use the money for. 

Or at least, I tried to do that.

Diran wasn鈥檛 the best communicator and often struggled to share what he spent money on. Most of the time, a debit alert was how I鈥檇 be notified about the transaction. Then I鈥檇 have to ask him before he鈥檇 remember spending an amount of money. It was slightly annoying to only hear he spent our money after the fact, but I absorbed my annoyance and tried to ignore his habit. Until the day I couldn鈥檛 anymore.

When I saw that 鈧�200k debit alert, I literally felt intense anger well up inside me. It wasn鈥檛 the random 鈧�20k or 鈧�40k he could spend and come and explain to me later. 鈧�200k wasn鈥檛 small money, and I was really angry that he鈥檇 spent that amount of money without consulting me first.听

For context, this was 2019, and our combined salaries totalled approximately 鈧�550k. 鈧�200k was close to half our salaries, so it was not a negligible amount of money at all.

I was angry, but I didn鈥檛 plan to shout or make a big deal out of it. I thought I just needed to calmly explain why that kind of behaviour was unacceptable, and we鈥檇 work things out. But Diran worsened things the moment he opened his mouth.

He told me a mutual friend, who had suddenly become homeless, needed an urgent loan and would pay back in instalments over six months.

But as he spoke, I felt something snap inside me. It wasn鈥檛 the money itself; it was the betrayal and the lack of consideration. 

I knew the person involved and would鈥檝e probably agreed to the loan because of the seriousness of the situation, but I couldn鈥檛 believe he鈥檇 make such a decision without speaking to me about it first. 

Before I knew it, we were screaming over each other. He argued that the need had come urgently and that he planned to tell me about it the moment he returned home, but that wasn鈥檛 good enough for me. What happened to calling me? 

Then he said I was micromanaging him. I said he was irresponsible. He said I didn鈥檛 trust his judgment. I said I didn鈥檛 trust our joint approach to finances, which felt like only one person made the major decisions. 

We argued for hours. At the end, he stormed out of the room, and we slept in separate rooms for the first time in our marriage. I cried into my pillow for hours that night. Maybe I was being dramatic, but I really felt like our marriage was ending. 

We鈥檇 dated for three years before marriage, and had never fought like that or raised our voices at each other before. That night felt different, like our union as I knew it was ending. After crying my eyes out, I came to a realisation: the joint account arrangement was killing us, and we had to end it. 

Interestingly, we didn鈥檛 enter our marriage blindly. Before the wedding, we promised each other transparency. We thought sharing everything, including money, was the mature thing to do. 

I grew up watching my mum depend entirely on my dad financially, and I never wanted to be in that situation. But when our premarital counsellor at church talked about 鈥渙neness鈥� and 鈥渇inancial unity,鈥� it sounded noble and romantic. So we agreed to merge our salaries: 80% from both of us into a joint account, which we both had access to, and 20% left as personal money for data and transportation for work.

The thinking was that we鈥檇 use the 80% to cover our joint living expenses: food, rent, utilities and leave extra money for joint projects like a car in the future or real estate investments. 

Our joint arrangement worked for the first few months. Diran and I didn鈥檛 have strict 鈥済ender roles,鈥� so a lot of the time, he handled market runs and cooking, and buying whatever we needed at home. 

Since 20% wasn鈥檛 much, we usually ran out of personal money by the middle of the month, so we also used money from the joint account for transportation and personal needs, such as clothes, maintenance, and basically anything we needed. 

I started noticing cracks in our arrangement as we approached the eight-month mark. 

Diran isn鈥檛 a prudent spender, so there were things he bought that I thought were unnecessary. On top of that, he rarely communicated with me before spending money. I didn鈥檛 like it, but I said nothing to avoid him feeling like I was pocketwatching because my money was involved.

Additionally, I began to feel limited in what I could spend money on. One time, I wanted to buy myself a pair of shoes I saw online. At 鈧�56k, they were quite pricey, but I thought they were worth it. And I deserved it; I was always the one watching the budget and trying to make careful expenses. But when I made the purchase from the joint account, Diran looked at the alert and said, 鈥淎h babe, this month is tight o. You couldn鈥檛 wait?鈥�

It was as if someone had pressed on a childhood bruise.

I had spent years trying to escape the image of my mother asking my father for permission to buy anything. That was the moment I realised how easy it is for love to become dependence without even noticing.

The whole thing started eating at me. I couldn鈥檛 ignore the fact that I was tightening my own spending while he was spending as he liked without bothering to check in with me. 

I didn鈥檛 say anything out loud, and 鈥� looking back, I should have complained earlier 鈥� resentment slowly grew in my mind. Since I had access to the joint account transactions, I couldn鈥檛 even escape the reminders. Every debit alert felt personal.听

The night he gave out 鈧�200k without a heads up broke whatever thin thread was left. It was like, why couldn鈥檛 I spend 鈧�56k without discussion, but he could make a move like that?

We gave each other the silent treatment for a week after the fight. I even made a show of packing my bags to leave until he sat me down and said, 鈥淲e can鈥檛 continue like this. Please, let鈥檚 talk.鈥� So, we did, and finally admitted the truth to ourselves: a joint account wasn鈥檛 for us. It could work for other people, but ours magnified every financial difference between us.

We decided to restructure everything, and I must admit, we got the idea from some Christian marriage sermons we watched online during this period. 

Instead of pooling the majority of our money in the joint account, we only sent savings there 鈥� between 15% to 20% 鈥� for future joint projects. Then we agreed to commit 50% of our salaries (still in our personal accounts) to living expenses. We created an Excel tracker and assigned budgets for each item. 

When either of us bought anything from our 50%, we noted it there. That way, we didn鈥檛 have to do the 鈥淲hat did you spend money on鈥� conversation; we could just see it there. The remaining 30% – 35% of our salaries was personal money, and we didn鈥檛 need to police what we spent that on. Of course, personal money sometimes had to come back to the home when the need arose. When that happened, we communicated and settled it.

It sounds like a small change, but it saved our marriage. We still use a similar approach today, though my husband contributes more now since he has a better-paying job and we have children. 

I鈥檒l always preach the gospel of separate accounts. I enjoy financial independence, and he鈥檚 happy doing his own thing. We come together when we need to and talk about money without tension. In fact, our marriage is the healthiest it has ever been.

At the end of the day, keeping our money separate turned out to be the most united decision we ever made.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: My Boyfriend Threw Me Out. It Forced Me to Learn Financial Discipline

Deji* (29) and Teni* (27) have been together for three years and plan to tie the knot next year. In preparation for their wedding, they’ve been jointly saving for about two years. Recently, Deji invested a bulk of their savings into a bad deal without Teni鈥檚 knowledge. While he’s ready to bear the loss, Teni isn’t as forgiving. Now he’s stuck wondering if he has doomed their relationship.

When you鈥檙e done reading, you鈥檒l get to decide: Did he fuck up or not?

This is Deji鈥檚 Dilemma, As Told To Boluwatife

The past three years have been the most peaceful and happy I鈥檝e been in my life. But I may have just done something to change that.

I met Teni* at a friend鈥檚 wedding in 2022, an event I almost didn鈥檛 attend. I鈥檇 debated sleeping away my exhaustion from work over spending my precious weekend at yet another social gathering. I鈥檓 glad I eventually decided to attend.

Teni and I shared a table at the wedding. I remember stealing glances at the beautiful lady beside me, wondering how to start up a conversation with her. My opportunity came when the ushers served food, and we both reached for the only plate of amala on the tray. 

I gestured for her to take the food, and when she did, I joked that she鈥檇 have to repay me with pounded yam. She laughed 鈥� this soft, musical sound 鈥� and that was it. I was gone.

We talked the entire afternoon, and I asked for her number. By the time we went on our first date a week later, it felt like we had known each other for years. 

Everything with her was easy. Natural. Teni challenged me, supported me, and filled my life with a kind of peace I didn鈥檛 even know I needed. Early this year, I proposed at the same restaurant where we had our first date. It was perfect.

Even before our engagement, we鈥檝e been preparing for the life we want to build together. We always knew that we鈥檇 most likely get married in 2026. Since December 2023, we鈥檝e been saving jointly for the wedding and our future home 鈥� both of us contributing at least 30% of our monthly income. 

We didn鈥檛 have a savings goal; the plan was to set aside some money so we wouldn鈥檛 have to raise money again when the time came.

Teni is a freelancer and experiences periods of high income flow, so she sometimes contributed more than 30%. For me, I already had plenty of living expenses and family responsibilities on my 鈧�650k salary, so I maintained my 30%. 

We had a system that worked: I already had a mutual fund account, so we directed our savings there due to the high returns (between 18% and 20% per annum). We鈥檇 started active wedding planning right after I proposed, so we finally drew up a budget of 鈧�10m. We already had close to 鈧�5m saved, so it was a matter of raising the rest. 

Teni handled the organisation, tracking how much we had and what we still needed, while I managed the vendors and coordinated plans. We made a great team.

Everything changed two months ago.

A friend told me about an importation business opportunity. The idea was to pool money to import gadgets, household decor, and fashion accessories from countries like China and sell them to wholesalers for a profit in Nigeria. 

He swore it was legit. He told me he鈥檇 personally invested in it and showed me testimonials. I didn’t have to do the actual groundwork. I just needed to provide the capital, and I would practically make almost double my investment in a few months. It seemed like a genuine opportunity.

I kept thinking about how much it would help with the wedding, how proud Teni would be if I suddenly eased our financial burden and had more than enough left to start our family together. It felt like a chance to be a hero.

So, without telling her, I took out 鈧�3m from our joint savings and put it into it.

The plan was to surprise her when the returns came in. I imagined telling her how I鈥檇 proactively invested our money and made double back. It was supposed to be a good thing.

But the whole thing collapsed.

My 鈥渇riend鈥� disappeared. When I traced him down to his family’s house, I learnt he did the same thing to a few other people to raise money to relocate out of the country. The business itself was real; he just used it as an opportunity to steal.

Telling Teni was the hardest thing I鈥檝e done in my life. She thought I was joking at first. She was furious when she eventually realised I was serious, accusing me of 鈥済ambling with our future behind my back.鈥�

I tried to explain. I told her it was meant to be a surprise, that I was thinking of us. I even swore to raise the 鈧�3m back somehow and pay back every kobo. I honestly didn鈥檛 think it was a big deal. 

Granted, my friend had scammed me, but it wasn鈥檛 because I misjudged a business opportunity. It was the person involved who turned out to be a snake. If all had gone well, she鈥檇 most likely be happy I took the initiative. 

Besides, the wedding was still months away, and I could recover the money before then, even if it meant saving every naira of my salary.

But Teni said it wasn鈥檛 about the money. It was about trust.

For weeks now, she鈥檚 been cold and distant. She says she鈥檚 wondering if this should be a deal breaker; whether she can marry someone who would make a major decision about their shared life without even talking to her. 

I keep telling her she鈥檚 overreacting. I didn鈥檛 cheat or lie for selfish reasons, and I didn鈥檛 do anything to hurt her on purpose. But every time I say that, she just sighs like she鈥檚 tired of explaining something I refuse to understand.

And maybe I truly don鈥檛 understand. To me, it still feels like a mistake I can fix if she鈥檒l just give me a chance. But to her, it feels like a betrayal.

She hardly calls me these days, and I feel stuck in a loop. I鈥檝e sent apologies after apologies, but a part of me feels she鈥檚 dragging this too much. Still, another part of me worries that she may have already made up her mind, and I might lose her. I鈥檓 not sure what I can do at this point.

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity. 

NEXT READ: I Went From Broke to a Net Worth of Over 鈧�30m in 5 Years. Here鈥檚 How I Did It