How to survive with only 20,500 Naira

This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song “All The Wild Horses” by Ray LaMontagne - https://open.spotify.com/track/2R21QbqvPlhGJI749uEBTf?si=cd53a4a036ff4b9a

It’s on the day you got the alert. First, you tell yourself that you’ve got this. There are people worse off than you, and they seem pretty happy, so you’ve got this! Believe in yourself. But don’t check your account balance. Don’t make the mistake of even eyeing that shoe you promised yourself at the end of last month that you’d get this month’s end —do what every sane person would: push it to the month after.

Smile as often as you can. Not because you’re happy but because you know your tears wouldn’t move anyone. You’re an adult. You’re supposed to have your shit together. Adults don’t run and cry whenever they go broke. No, they find a side-hustle and start a business, and then write a LinkedIn post about it so they can stunt on others and pretend like their life is perfect. You’re an adult. Suck it up. You’re broke but not broken —even though you don’t know the difference.

But it doesn’t matter. What matters is this: you were paid two days before. You got the alert. It read 300,500 Naira. You smiled. You sent that babe a few jokes via chat. You promised her you’d take her out to the movies. She, possibly sensing your aura change like Jin Woo of Solo Leveling, leaned into it and agreed. You remember she had mentioned a book she wanted but never asked you to get it. But a real man never waits to be asked; you reckon, a real man takes action. So, you sent her some money for it. She thanked you. You checked your account balance by the end of the day. To no one else but your shock, it read: 77,800 Naira.

You gulped. Unable to explain what had happened.

You know what you bought: a few groceries here, a little bill payment there. You remembered that you had also just settled the piling debt you owe your younger sister, even though you side-eyed her while doing it. You also repaid your debt to your landlady: that one time you bought juice from her store to entertain that female guest—yes, the same one you texted when the alert first buzzed on your phone; same one you sent money for a book. But you know it’s not her fault. How could it be? You know none of this is anyone’s fault. You know that it’s just the circle you’re in.

It’s the circle IB—your friend— had earlier in the week, described through the short story he shared with you. In it, at the denouement, the protagonist referred to life as a “...merry-go-round for adults. It gave him just enough to keep him in the loop, but never enough to be free from it.” You remember those words, and you shake your head.

It’s the next day after you got the alert. And despite how often you scold yourself not to look at it, you give in. You check your Providus Bank statement. You need to know how 300,000 Naira turned into 77,800 Naira in less than a day. You worry you might have been scammed. You remember you did LinkedIn Premium for one month free, with a plan to stealthily unsubscribe before the month elapsed so you wouldn’t incur any costs. You wonder if that is what happened. Has LinkedIn wised up and taken their money? You ponder on this.

And then another thought crosses your mind. You remember that thirty minutes after you got the alert, your mother called to check on you, and your eternal debt to your parents was reignited.

40,000 to Momsy 30,000 to Popsy ✅

You sigh. They deserved the world, yet such a meager sum was all the love you could muster.

Then you remembered MTN. You had to work. Work meant using data. Using data meant MTN was eager, like a suckling child, to take you for all your worth.

20,000 to MTN data ✅

You sigh. Data is important. You remember, it’s only with data that you can talk and chat with her.

You sigh again and scroll down the list of outbound payments. When you get to the last update, you are shocked to see it read: 20,500 Naira.

“Fuck!” You curse.

You could have sworn it was 77,800 Naira a few hours ago. You look at your calendar. It’s March 30th, 2025. The month hasn’t even ended. You’re broke already.

You have to survive on 20,500 Naira for the rest of April 2025. You have no side-hustle, you don’t have a second job, and because of your silly home training, you cannot afford to seek help through nefarious means.

You encourage yourself that it would be alright, noting that you were in this same spot last month and somehow survived.

Chances are you’ll survive this one too.

Your phone buzzes. You close your eyes and pray it’s not another debit alert.

You take a deep breath.

You open your eyes.

You look at your phone.

It’s not an alert —phew!

But it is a message from her.

“Mifa,” her WhatsApp text reads, “when are we going to see a movie?”

You gulp.

Movie ticket price…. Uber cost… popcorn cost…How will you survive with only 20,500 Naira?