Tell me about your earliest memory of money
A specific memory isn’t coming to mind, but one thing is certain — I grew up in abject poverty, and I knew it. I’m the third of four kids. We lived in a mini flat where the room was storage for our clothes, and everyone slept on the living room floor.

I’m talking poor as per we didn’t go to school for a whole year because our parents couldn’t afford the fees. We couldn’t afford medical bills. We barely ate. It was normal for my mum to take us to hang around in church and pray until someone gave us money or food.

Our parents even taught us to lie that they weren’t around when the landlord came to ask for rent.

Omo
Because everyone was frustrated, there was constant emotional abuse from my parents on us. They also constantly fought over money. During one of their fights, there were threats of pouring acid one one another.

Thankfully, they got jobs the year I turned 10.

Did that change anything?
Yes. My mum got a job at the church as an administrative employee, and my dad joined the technical staff of a hospital.

In the space of five years, we moved out of the mini flat into our own house. My mum got a car as a giift from someone who was leaving the country and gave it to my dad, then bought her own car. We were eating multiple meals a day. But we were still being sent out of school for defaulting on fees.

Why?
My mum made more money than my dad from her salary and people giving her gifts, but she insisted she wouldn’t pay our fees. She contributed most to building the house and feeding us, so it was on my dad to pay the school fees for all four of us.

But at this point, my older brother was in a private university, so it was difficult for my dad. Every time I was sent out of school, I ‘d cook up a lie because my classmates couldn’t understand why my parents seemed well-to-do, but I was owing fees.

“My parents forgot to pay.”

“They’ve paid. I just forgot to bring the teller.”

You learn to lie a lot when you grow up poor.

When I turned 15, things got bad again.

Damn. How?
Both my parents stopped working.

First, my mum resigned because of office politics and people saying she was overly favoured by her boss. We lived on my dad’s salary for a while. And then, he lost his job.

My parents didn’t have any money kept anywhere because they used their salaries for those five years to build the house and send us to school. We had a house and cars but went hungry for days again. We eventually had to sell the cars to survive.

When I turned 16, in 2014, my parents couldn’t afford the ₦15k university fees. It’s not like they were trying to find it o. They straight up said I should sit at home and maybe learn computers for a year.

Is that what you did?
After many tears, they gathered money from family members, and I went to school.

In my first year, I was the broke roommate, and it was obvious. I wore trash clothes, never had money and hardly ate. In fact, a roommate pulled me aside one day and asked if everything was okay at home because other people in the room were asking why I was so haggard.

One four-day Muslim holiday, all my roommates went home, but I didn’t have any money, so I stayed back. When I say I didn’t have money, I mean I had just ₦100. I bought a bag of pure water on Thursday of the long weekend, and that’s all I had until Monday. I’d wake up, drink water, sit around in the room and go back to bed.

When a roommate came back on Monday morning, I was half dead. She had to rush to the shops to get a bottle of soft drink to pour into my mouth before buying me food.

Beginning of my second year, my parents were blunt: “You can’t keep calling us for money. You know the situation at home.” I had to start looking out for myself.

What did you do?
I helped people sell stuff, cooked for boys who had apartments and didn’t want to make their own food and ushered at birthday parties and offic events. I was making about ₦5k every week, so at least, I could eat. But I was also missing classes and tests because I had work to do. People thought I was unserious, but they didn’t get that I literally wouldn’t have anything to eat if I didn’t do those jobs. And it’s not like I was enjoying the jobs. Ushering is hell.

It is?
Don’t even let me start. Is it the standing for hours? Or the uncomfortable dresses? Or having to smile while people throw food at you, insult, threaten and sexually harass you? My eyes have seen shege.

Damn
Towards the end of my second year, I saw an ad for an internship at a PR company. I was a business administration student, but I didn’t mind doing social media marketing work. I just needed money, and this was going to pay ₦40k.

The day before the interview, I had zero money. I couldn’t call my parents because I knew how that was going to end, so I went for church fellowship and just hoped somehow someone would give me money.

Long story short, I didn’t get any money. Thankfully though, the interview was postponed at the last minute to the holiday period when I would be at home. At least there was a small chance I could get money from home.

One week before the interview, they called to say it was just a formality and I’d resume that day either way. Every day, I reminded my parents that I’d need money for transportation. They said, “God will provide”. On the day of the interview, they said, “We don’t have money.” I cried, rolled on the floor, begged; no money. I lost the job opportunity.

Wow
When I resumed for my third year, I packed everything I owned. I called home and told them I wasn’t returning until I made money.

They thought I was joking.

Year three was bad too. Because I was squatting in the hostel, I literally had to sleep outside many nights when the security guards didn’t let me in. One of those nights, I called my mum to tell her my situation, and her response was, “What should I do?”

I think it was on one of those nights I told myself I had to be rich in this life.

Read full story here: https://www.zikoko.com/money/naira-life/nairalife-this-marketing-babe-vowed-not-to-return-home-until-she-made-money/