Buzzer Coin$0.00$BUZZER
Search
invsylvajunior

Oziegbe Ehebha

invsylvajunior
15
Uploads
142
Followers
18
Following
Newbie
Newbie•0 minutes•0,14 Karma
Arrow Right
Posts Comments Reels Blogs Threads Tags
invsylvajunior
invsylvajunior

2 months ago

One of the biggest scams nobody prepared us for is adulthood in Nigeria. Growing up, many of us thought being an adult meant freedom, enjoyment, and doing whatever we liked without anybody controlling us. It looked sweet from the outside. You imagined yourself making your own decisions, buying whatever you wanted, sleeping whenever you liked, and finally escaping all those house rules. Nobody sat us down to explain that adulthood in Nigeria is mostly just paying for things you didn’t know people paid for, while acting like you’re okay. As a child, life looked simple. Food appeared. Electricity was something you used without thinking twice. Water came and went without you calculating how much it cost. Data was not your problem. Rent was a word adults argued about, not something that could disturb your sleep. Fuel was just fuel. You didn’t know that one day your whole peace of mind would depend on whether your account balance could survive the week. Then adulthood comes and introduces itself like a debt collector. Suddenly you are paying for transport. You are paying for food. You are paying for electricity. You are paying for data. You are paying for fuel. You are paying for “small small” things that somehow add up to a very big problem. And just when you think you’ve handled the important expenses, one new emergency rises from nowhere like a surprise villain. Your slippers spoil. Your charger stops working. Your gas finishes. Your friend is doing birthday contribution. Somebody in the family has “urgent need.” Your bank app is misbehaving. Your landlord is sending messages that sound like threats disguised as reminders. The funniest part is how adulthood does not even allow you to suffer in peace. You can be broke and still be expected to look responsible. Nobody cares that your account is fighting for survival. Bills will still come with confidence. Your phone network will still remove data like they’re harvesting crops. The fuel in your generator will finish at the exact moment the heat is trying to kill you. The transport fare you used last week will suddenly increase because “everything has gone up.” Even your appetite seems to know when your account is low and starts craving the most expensive food. Adulthood in Nigeria is also about pretending you are managing when in reality you are doing calculations every hour. You enter a supermarket and suddenly discover you have become a financial analyst. You pick something, check the price, put it back, walk around, come back to it, and finally leave without it. Not because you don’t want it, but because your account balance and your responsibilities are already in a toxic relationship. And let’s talk about the emotional stress of “urgent 2k.” There is always somebody, somewhere, with an urgent need. It may be transport. It may be food. It may be “I’ll send it back tomorrow.” The problem is that tomorrow in Nigeria is a spiritual concept. Once that money leaves your account, it may never return again. Yet adulthood somehow expects you to be generous, wise, responsible, and financially stable at the same time. Another thing nobody tells you is that adulthood can make you miss nonsense. You start missing the days when your biggest problem was whether NEPA took light during your favorite TV show. Now you’re the one buying the fuel, paying the bills, and praying your generator doesn’t develop one mysterious fault that will require “just 15k to fix.” You even begin to understand why older people used to sigh before answering simple questions. That sigh was not rudeness. It was the sound of responsibility choking them. The truth is, adulthood in Nigeria is not for the weak. It requires prayer, patience, discipline, humor, and the ability to laugh at pain before pain laughs at you. It teaches you that there is always one more expense waiting behind the corner. It teaches you that “I’m just managing” is not a statement; it is a lifestyle. It teaches you that financial peace is one of the sweetest things a human being can experience. But somehow, in the middle of all the stress, there is something funny and unifying about it too. Almost every Nigerian adult understands the silent pain of checking your account balance before making a decision. Almost everybody knows what it means to postpone enjoyment because responsibilities are lined up like a queue. We laugh about it because if we don’t laugh, the pressure itself can turn into another bill. So yes, adulthood in Nigeria is basically a subscription service. Every month, every week, and sometimes every single day, there is something waiting to collect money from you. And the funniest part is that nobody asked whether you wanted to subscribe. Life just clicked “auto-renew” on your behalf. If adulthood in Nigeria has humbled you before, then you already know the truth: survival itself deserves salary.
0
GENERAL

In Nigeria, Adulthood Is Basically a Subscription Service

4 minutes read Continue read
Like icon
5
Comments icon
Shares icon