Low Quality Problems Are Ruining Me
I am not shameless enough for my account balance
It is 5 am, and I am sitting on my bunk bed watching lights from a billboard on Falomo Bridge illuminate my countenance. In that brief sphere of light, if you squint your eyes, you can see my baby brother’s towel, a pile of clothes, my half used powerbank, and Edidiong’s electric fan.
I am writing my monthly letter to my future self on Futureme when my phone begins to spasm. Frustrated, I do the usual hard reset. Each time takes longer, and although I pride myself on being reasonable and patient, I am exhausted from having to adjust to small inconveniences that I wouldn't think of if I were richer.
What to eat. What to wear (truly, not the Twitter version). How to pay a tailor to make a dress for an event I can’t miss. How to change my phone. Get a new laptop. Pay rent. Cover Master's application fees. Transport. Data. Sew these slippers. Fix this dress. Penetrating heat. Uncomfortable living conditions. The pain of having enough, yet somehow not enough.
Often, I can eat today. I can’t change my phone. But both are important. And every day becomes a matter of figuring things out by priority.
I’ve gone from twisting phone or laptop cords into odd shapes just to get a charge to holding my phone at a specific angle for power. You start telling yourself: don’t let it get too low, don’t let it charge too much, don’t forget this or that. Your mind becomes filled with caution around things that were designed to make your life easier. Have you seen people using rubber bands to keep their phones from falling apart?
Just the other day, I tweeted that one of my dreams was to start a bursary fund for writers and creatives to apply for workshops, MFA programs, and contests. I didn’t mean covering the full Master’s fee. I meant things like the £75 contest entry fee. The ₦30,000 for that workshop. The $100 application fee before you begin an MFA. That tweet came from a painful moment. I’d seen a one-day workshop I wanted to attend this June, and it wasn’t that I couldn’t pay the money, it was that I had too much on my plate to make it even a top-ten priority. I’m printing my own logbook, for goodness’ sake. I started to ask myself questions like: is this workshop really necessary?, I will still meet this person one way or the other, we are all heading to the top. It made me think about how at the university, when I visited friends and they offered me food with egg(not this economy version) because that is what they could afford, we would crack jokes about eggs being a full chicken.
This week, I was on a call with close friends giving updates on life. One friend shared how she had to return her work laptop after resigning. Her personal phone dies quickly, thanks to unstable electricity in Nigeria. I was heartbroken. I wanted to ask for her account number. I wanted to buy her a new phone, a laptop, everything, because she, like most people I know, truly has value and because it’s "nothing," but it’s also everything.
I have always tried to decenter money, to not chase it as desperately. No, I will not drop my account number on the TL. No, I don’t want to create strategically for impressions. No, I will not apply for a giveaway if it doesn’t involve books or grants for my career. No, I will not dance on TikTok for views. No, I will ask you if you are sure before you send me that money or buy me that thing… But like a new friend lamented during our conversation on building generational wealth, I am not shameless enough for my account balance and as much as it pains me to admit, there is a certain shamelessness you must possess about your dreams. Guys, if you see me dancing on TikTok, just like and pass.
Edidiong said, “The problem isn’t that we can’t make the money. It’s that we can’t make it at once now.” She’s right. I could save for it, but would the thing I’m saving to replace even last long enough to justify the wait? Does the thing know I am saving for it? How long do I have to endure these small inconveniences?
Not to sound like a downer, but I wonder: do people like Temi Otedola ever feel this way? Is there a rich-people version of these inconveniences? People say it’s being overwhelmed by too many options. Maybe. But I’d truly like to know. I want to get there soon and come and write about it.
Charles once teased me about writing about danfo buses. I told him it’s because Danfo is my current reality. I am writing about what I am living. And it’s important to me to document these things, because I am going to make it. And before I start writing about private jets or watching orchestras in London, I want it known that I too was fluent in “ọ́n bó lẹ̀ o.” I didn’t come out of nowhere.
The idea of being ashamed of where I am or where I came from is ridiculous. Truthfully, it hasn’t always been. Classism has pressed me many times. But I’m learning to take pride—not just in where I’m going, but in who I am, and why I do what I do.
And that has made all the difference.
My mama has a new story out, and like scriptwriting and loving me, she does prose amazingly well. Read here.
I particularly like Zikoko Naira's life stories. Read here.
I watched The Party on Netflix, and guys! People dey oh! The acting was good, and I loved the actors, and the new faces thrilled me. I am such a crime film babe, so, apart from personal observations, I had a good time.
I have been listening to gospel songs, ki oluwa saanu! Mo need lati ma wo private jet, kin ma lo fun holiday ni Bali abi kin charge phones mi ni Mexico. I am old enough nau!
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