It is frustrating to be Nigerian.

Nigeria makes you fixated on really stupid problems. I mean, I have seen enough rants and tweets from angry Nigerians venting about this and that, but you never truly realize how stupid and pointless those problems can be until you are at the receiving end of them. A well-planned weekend I scheduled for myself was turned upside down because of a sudden power outage at midnight on Sunday. I woke up from what was a sweet dream to a sweaty body and the silence of my air conditioner. I didn’t need to strain my ears to know that the silent hum of my AC had been replaced by the angry rumble of ‘brrrrhhhhh’ from my neighbor’s generator. It was as though the generator—well-known to any Nigerian—was also tired of constantly being called into service on what was probably meant to be a peaceful night.

To be Nigerian is to always be prepared for disappointment and the wreckage of plans. I could not salvage the chicken salad and akara I left in my fridge; by Sunday morning, the sweet aroma of fried beans had been replaced by a putrid stench that strongly reminded me of the open canal in Shomolu. I was on the verge of tears as I tossed the uneaten salad into the garbage bin along with the akara. There went my meal prep—my attempt to be cleaner and healthier in my meal choices.

To be Nigerian is to take abuse in stride. The way you shrug off the biting, spicy backhand from your grandmother as she admonishes you for some misdemeanor is the same way you have to accept Nigeria’s madness with a forced indifference. Because, really, what do you want to do before? Protest? Hahahaha. Even those who suffer worse than you will ask why you’re protesting.

Oh, is it just because they didn’t bring light and you couldn’t deliver on your assigned tasks?

Ehn, but do you know my baby almost died in the NICU because there hasn’t been power in the government-run hospital for almost three months? Do you know we had to use our own personal generators? For a government-run agency that my tax and your tax are meant to fund? So, how is your own worse than mine?

And what’s remarkable about this needless comparison is that it doesn’t always come from a place of gloating. It’s often meant to show camaraderie in pain and misery. You see, in Nigeria, it’s not enough for horrible things to happen to you; your neighbor must also share their own, often worse, fate with you as a form of empathy—not to prove who don suffer pass. I mean, sometimes we have those who revel in the amount of pain and subjugation they can endure, showing it off like an heirloom—pain and oppression passed down from the generation before them, who took pride in their mistreatment by the government.

To be Nigerian is to accept that it is going to be extra hard to compete with global talents. I have friends working in international tech firms who have to scramble for emergency fuel because NEPA failed them. Friends who are hot, tired, and disgruntled, standing in queues at petrol stations instead of focusing their mental energy on writing code. And you wonder why inventions barely start from here?

How I wan invent when Agbero don ruin my day by almost tossing me off a moving bus because he’s trying to hasten up?
How I wan invent when I spend a huge chunk of my salary on Band A electriticy that is actually Band Z?
How I wan compete with global talents when I barely have light to power my laptop?

How can I compete with global talents when my salary has not been reviewed, yet the cost of transportation and fuel has skyrocketed, and I have to allocate a large chunk of my salary to basic needs?

Even to do fine girl na problem. Skincare that used to range between 10-20k has now quadrupled. Imagine having to choose between looking like life is dealing with you and buying food. How will my skincare even work when I am hungry and barely eating? How that kain brain wan create a new global solution? Ehn?

To be Nigerian is to come to the deep, sad, and foreboding realization that your peers—those who are citizens of advanced countries or the ones who were fortunate and smart enough to jump off this high-speed bus of doom that is Nigeria—will reach major life milestones far ahead of you.

Just last week, one of my colleagues was talking about how he would have married, but since he isn’t earning enough and doesn’t have money, he’s putting that on hold. Now, imagine the number of beautiful relationships that have ended simply because the people involved were ready, but they couldn’t afford to be together.

In some parts of Nigeria, one can still manage with a cumulative monthly earning of 200k. Well, in the city where I’m from—Ilorin—you can squeeze through. But in Lagos? Even with a cumulative salary of 1 million per month, you will still struggle to get by. You will constantly be in survival mode. And no, that salary is not even enough to upgrade your life to one of comfort.

When yearly rent for a self-contained apartment in a not-so-central neighborhood is 900k, how do you want to do yourself? You would still have to resort to jumping buses if you don’t already have a car—or take outrageously priced Uber rides. Abi how do you want to buy car when 2008 Corolla is 9 million naira?

To be Nigerian is to constantly be angry, not knowing where the rage of emotions is coming from. Then you remember the papers that were due on Monday, which you couldn’t submit because the whole of Sunday, you had no power, and your generator went off at 5 pm. You waited for NEPA to restore electricity but fell asleep, only to wake up at 1 am on Monday morning from a fitful sleep—sweat sliding down your back into your bootyhole and inner crevices in a way that feels vulgarly invasive.

You had to choose between charging your phone or your baby fan. God forbid, they find your bloated and dead body in your room after you locked your windows to escape generator fumes from your neighbor. It’s either you have a fan blowing you, or you suffocate.

And then you carry that anger with you—unchecked, unresolved—onto the road. Then one Instagram skit maker shoves a microphone in your face and asks you between Benz and Lexus which one is the best.

WHO BE KWANSOGBU?!!!

To be Nigerian is to constantly be in survival mode. Ready to jump out of Danfo buses before they ruin your legs. To mentally calculate how much will be left if you choose ease over feeding.

To be Nigerian is to tell yourself “It is well” several times a day when absolutely nothing is well.

To be Nigerian is to know that 10k is 1k, and the moment it becomes 9,500, it will seem as though the rest of the money has mysteriously disappeared in ways you cannot explain.

To be Nigerian is to know that nothing is bereft of stress. Work is stress. Looking good is stress. Eating is stress. Going out to have fun is an even greater stress. Even fornication is stressful because—what’s with Uber fares and this crazy heat when NEPA decides to do what they do best? Throw everyone into a pit of darkness. Or how are you guys coping? Imagine conceiving from that type of coitus. It’s to birth another generation of frustrated Naija pikin wey get congenital anger issues.

Do you have light in your house at the moment? Or is Nigeria draining you in other ways? Let’s hear your rants below.