one of the few Nigerians who has not only witnessed the evolution of media, politics, and public life, but has also shaped it.
To say he has lived many lives would be an understatement. Journalist. Publisher. Political aspirant. Cultural archivist. Outspoken commentator. And yet, even with a life so full, he’s still writing new chapters—on his own terms. For decades, he has moved between boardrooms and ballrooms, newsrooms and palaces, always with a reporter’s curiosity and a statesman’s gravitas.
One of the things I’ve always found fascinating about Dele Momodu is how he’s managed to remain consistently visible without being overexposed.
He’s been many things to many people— journalist, publisher, cultural commentator, political aspirant, public conscience—but what’s undeniable is the fact that he has always been present. Present in the way that matters. Loud when necessary, reflective when the moment demands, and always willing to evolve with the times.
As he turns 65, we celebrate not just a man, but an era. An era of storytelling that knew how to make room for elegance, boldness, and deep political engagement—all at once. Dele Momodu is a man who has spent a lifetime speaking truth to power—both with his pen and with his presence. Happy birthday, Sir. May your voice never lose its weight, and your ovation never dim. This issue also comes with a more personal moment of reflection. May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and like many of you, I’ve had to learn that rest, peace, and mental clarity don’t just happen—they must be chosen, again and again. That’s why I hope you take a moment to read “This Month is Mental Health Awareness Month — So Here Are Some Reminders…” It’s not about being preachy. It’s about the little things: stepping away from the noise, choosing softness, asking for help. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is just pause. That article is for anyone who’s felt overwhelmed, unseen, or just plain tired. hope it feels like a warm exhale. We’re also spotlighting a story that’s very close to my heart: What the Next Generation of Nigerian Designers Are Getting Right. The future of Nigerian fashion is not waiting for anyone’s permission. This new crop of designers are bold, intentional, deeply rooted in culture, and refreshingly unbothered by the Western gaze. They are defining what it means to be both local and global, and they are doing it with a confidence that’s hard to ignore. I am totally here for it. If you’ve been wondering what’s next in fashion, the answer is already here—and they’re not whispering.
As always, thank you for reading. For picking up this issue, scrolling through our pages, and engaging with the ideas we care about. Before I go, I want to ask again—how are you doing? Are you taking care of yourself? Are you being kind to your mind?
Let this issue be a reminder that life won’t slow down. But maybe, just maybe, we can learn to move through it with a little more intention. A little more curiosity. A little more grace.
Let’s keep going.
Love,
THE 5-PIECE WARDROBE THEORY: MINIMALISM, BUT MAKE IT FASHION
We’ve all stared at a full wardrobe and felt like we had absolutely nothing to wear. The irony? Most of us aren’t lacking clothes — we’re drowning in options we don’t actually love. Between impulse buys, fast fashion hauls, and social media temptations, it’s easy to lose the thread of your personal style. Enter the 5-Piece Wardrobe Theory — a quietly radical approach to dressing that doesn’t ask you to throw everything away or live in neutrals forever. Instead, it invites you to buy less, choose better, and rediscover the joy of curating a wardrobe that truly works.
Here’s the premise: each season, you allow yourself just five new fashion items. Not basics. Not replacements. Five real pieces. Things that add depth, interest, and personality to what you already own. And in doing so, you transform your relationship with style — not through restriction, but through intention.
WHAT COUNTS AS ONE OF YOUR FIVE?
These aren’t your everyday socks or backup tees. Your five are standout additions — pieces that shift the energy of your closet. It could be a perfectly tailored blazer, an unexpected silk skirt, or a pair of shoes that pull every outfit together. A good five might look like:
• A statement piece (the one everyone compliments)
• A versatile staple (think relaxed trousers or a structured shirt)
• A seasonal hero (a linen set )
• A functional fashion item (elevated but practical — the right bag, the perfect sneakers)
• A wildcard (pure joy — sequins, bold prints, dramatic silhouettes)
WHY FIVE? BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU PAUSE
The real power of the rule is not in the number — it’s in the pause. When you know you’re limited to just five, you stop buying on autopilot. You start asking better questions: Do I actually love this? Will I wear it more than once? Does it elevate the rest of my wardrobe? Suddenly, you’re curating — not just collecting.
IT’S NOT ABOUT HAVING LESS, IT’S ABOUT HAVING BETTER
Minimalism often gets confused with deprivation, but this is something else. This is thoughtful. Intentional. Luxurious, even. Imagine a wardrobe where every piece feels considered — where nothing is “just okay” or “bought because it was on sale.”
That’s the goal.
IT SHARPENS YOUR STYLE INSTINCTS
Restricting quantity forces clarity. With only five slots, you begin to notice what you actually reach for — and what you don’t. Maybe you always return to tailored separates, or maybe your signature is colour and volume. Either way, patterns emerge, and suddenly, your style feels less like trial-and-error and more like identity.
IT MAKES GETTING DRESSED UNBELIEVABLY EASY
Once your wardrobe becomes a system — not a storage unit — mornings get simpler. Outfits fall into place because the pieces belong together. You’re not fighting your clothes. They’re working for you.
IT’S SEASONALLY SMART
The 5-piece refresh works beautifully across seasons, especially in climates like Nigeria, where the year is essentially divided into two moods: hot and hotter, dry and drenched. In the rainy months, your five might include a lightweight sweater and fabrics that forgive surprise showers. In the dry season? Breathable layers, linen co-ords, and light tailoring that doesn’t cling.
IT RECONNECTS YOU WITH JOY Ironically, limits can bring freedom. Instead of drowning in options you half-like, you end up with a wardrobe full of pieces you actually enjoy wearing. The excitement of finding the one — not just another — makes fashion feel exciting again. And your wallet will thank you, too.
OLIVIA
WHEN DAN AKPOVWA
TURNED 60
Recently, Dan Akpovwa, the respected Publisher and Editorin-Chief of The Abuja Inquirer, marked his 60th birthday in style with an all-white party that lit up the grand ballroom of the Abuja Continental Hotel. And friends, family, and notable figures gathered in their crispest whites to honour him. The evening was a brilliant blend of sophistication and pure fun, as guests were treated to good music, flowing cocktails, and plenty of dancefloor moments. With the theme “Put on Your Boogie Shoes and Prepare to Party,” it was clear from the get-go that this wasn’t going to be your average milestone celebration. It was a joyous, high-energy toast to a man whose legacy continues to influence the media space in Abuja and beyond. Here’s to 60 years of impact — and many more to come.
Photo credit: Sunday Aghaeze.
HOW TO BUILD A SIGNATURE LOOK THAT GROWS WITH YOU
There’s something undeniably powerful about a woman who knows her style. Not just what’s trending, not just what’s new — but what feels like her. The kind of look that walks into a room before she does. Effortless, but intentional. Evolving, but unmistakably hers. But here’s the truth: building a signature look isn’t about locking yourself into one aesthetic forever. It’s about crafting a visual language that matures with you. That shifts as your life does — career moves, city changes, body changes, mindset upgrades — without losing the thread of who you are. So, how do you build a signature look that actually lasts — one that doesn’t feel tired two seasons in or fall apart when your lifestyle changes? You do it with clarity, flexibility, and a little style honesty.
Here’s how to get started:
1. Start With the You Now, Not the You You Think You Should Be
Your signature style isn’t a Pinterest board. It’s how you want to show up in real life — meetings, brunches, latenight airport runs, gallery openings, school pickups. Start where you are. What do you feel best in right now? What pieces do you wear on repeat? What makes you stand taller without trying too hard? That’s the foundation. Honour it.
2. Identify Your Style Anchors
Every great look has core elements — silhouettes, fabrics, colours, or details that show up again and again. Maybe it’s oversized tailoring. Maybe it’s monochrome. Maybe you’re all about gold accents and clean necklines. These anchors don’t have to be loud, but they should be consistent. They’re your visual signature, even if the mood shifts.
3. Understand Your Lifestyle Rhythm
You don’t need a closet full of things for a life you don’t live. If you work from home, travel often, or go from boardroom to dinner without time to change, your style should serve that. Signature looks aren’t aspirational — they’re functional. You can’t build confidence in clothes that never fit into your reality.
4. Let Texture and Tone Do the Talking
A grown signature look isn’t about logos or shouting. It’s about subtle power moves: texture, quality, tailoring, and tone. A cotton poplin shirt cut just right. A silk skirt that falls with grace. A neutral palette done in layers, not laziness. These are the pieces that look better the more you wear them — and say more the less you try.
5. Make Room for a Little Drama
Consistency doesn’t mean dull. Every signature style needs contrast — that one unexpected detail that sparks curiosity. A bold lip in an otherwise bare face. A sculptural earring. A sharply cut blazer over a sheer slip. Think of it as punctuation — not shouting, just knowing where to place your exclamation mark.
6. Curate, Don’t Collect
Building a signature look is less about shopping, more about selecting. Invest in fewer, better things — not trendchasing, not panic-buys. That bag you always carry? That perfume people associate with you? That perfectly brokenin pair of jeans? That’s your signature. Don’t rush it — refine it.
7. Edit As You Evolve
Your style should reflect your growth, not hold you hostage. You’re allowed to outgrow the power suits you wore in your 20s or the boho dresses you loved in your early career days. Maybe soft tailoring becomes your new uniform. Maybe you trade heels for elevated flats. A signature look that lasts isn’t static — it simply evolves with grace.
8. Dress Like You Know Who You Are (Even When You Don’t)
The real magic of a signature look isn’t just that it looks good. It’s that it grounds you — especially on days you feel unsure. It becomes a kind of armour. A comfort. A quiet flex. When the world is noisy, your style becomes your reminder: I know who I am, or at least who I’m becoming. And I’m showing up as her.
SEX AND
THE NIGERIAN SINGLE GIRL:
WHAT WE’RE NO LONGER AFRAID TO SAY
There’s an unspoken rule that has followed the Nigerian single girl for generations: be desirable, but not desiring. Know about sex, but don’t talk about it. Dress well, but don’t give the wrong impression. You can be educated, articulate, successful — just don’t be too curious. Don’t ask too many questions. And definitely don’t admit that you think about, want, or have sex.
But here’s the thing — we’ve been thinking about it. We’ve been having it. We’ve been carrying questions, stories, mistakes, desires, and shame in silence for far too long. And now, we’re done whispering.
A quiet rebellion is happening across living rooms, group chats, therapy couches, and voice notes.
The Nigerian single woman is finally saying what culture told her to hide. Not for shock. Not for likes. But because honesty is overdue. And because shame has expired its usefulness.
It’s not about oversharing. It’s about reclaiming space. Speaking plainly. Unlearning the fear. We’re peeling back the layers of guilt, secrecy, and silence — and finding power, clarity, and sometimes even laughter underneath.
This is what we’re no longer afraid to say out loud.
“I want more than a vibe.”
It’s not revolutionary to want clarity — but it often feels like it. Nigerian single women are tired of ambiguous connections and text message pen pals. “Let’s see how it goes”
has become the anthem of men who don’t want to commit but also don’t want to let go. We’re no longer mistaking attention for affection. We want to be pursued with purpose. And if that feels like too much, maybe it’s not us — maybe it’s the bare minimum that got too comfortable.
“Desire doesn’t make me less.”
For generations, desire was framed as dangerous — something to control, fear, or deny. But we’re learning that wanting something doesn’t make us wild. It makes us human. We are not ashamed of wanting connection, closeness, and chemistry. We are no longer hiding behind innuendo or waiting for men to name what we already know. This isn’t about hypersexuality. It’s about honesty.
“Not
everything was perfect – and that’s okay.”
Many of us didn’t grow up with healthy models of intimacy. We fumbled through first kisses, awkward silences, mismatched expectations, and confusing experiences. And for too long, we carried the shame like a secret scar. But now we’re naming what
happened. We’re telling our stories — even the ones that don’t end neatly. Because there’s healing in the telling. And power in no longer pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.
“Boundaries are not rebellion.”
We used to equate love with endurance. The longer you stayed, the more loyal you were. But the modern Nigerian woman is learning to walk away — not with bitterness, but with clarity. We are choosing our peace over chaos, our sanity over attention, and our values over performative partnership. Saying “no” is no longer a defence mechanism. It’s become our standard.
“Being single isn’t a crisis.”
There is a strange panic people have around single women, as though being unmarried past 30 is a ticking time bomb. But singleness, for many of us, is not just okay — it’s intentional. We are exploring, healing, learning, and thriving. Our lives are full — not in spite of being single, but sometimes because of it. And while society might still treat our joy with suspicion, we are done asking for approval.
“We talk – and we listen – to
each other.”
Sisterhood has become sacred. The conversations that used to be muted are now happening everywhere — group chats, DMs, Sunday brunches, even anonymously online. We talk about pleasure, pain, red flags, green lights, and all the inbetweens. These aren’t just chats. They’re archives. Lifelines. Sometimes, they’re the only spaces where we’re allowed to be fully honest.
“Therapy
is
teaching us to unlearn the silence.”
For those of us privileged enough to access therapy, we’re unpacking layers of cultural conditioning: purity culture, peoplepleasing, internalised shame, fear of judgment. Therapy is where many of us are hearing, for the first time, that we’re allowed to have needs. Allowed to ask questions. Allowed to choose ourselves. It’s a long journey — but it’s ours.
“Pleasure isn’t just physical.”
It’s in being seen. In hearing “I understand.” In the safety of being able to say, “I don’t like that,” or “Can we slow down?” Pleasure is emotional, mental, and spiritual too. For the Nigerian single woman, it’s no longer just about what happens — but
“We’ve made mistakes –and we’ve grown.”
We’ve replied texts we shouldn’t have. We’ve stayed in situationships that chipped at our confidence. We’ve confused attention with love. But now, we’re learning. We’re giving grace to our younger selves and permission to our current selves to evolve. We are not defined by the mess. We are defined by how we’ve moved forward.
“We
won’t whisper anymore.”
We’re not vulgar. We’re just done being invisible. Whether we’re dating, healing, waiting, or choosing solitude, we deserve to exist without censorship. We are reclaiming voice, curiosity, and choice. We’re refusing the burden of being palatable. We are not reducing ourselves to fit expectations we never agreed to. We are full — and we are speaking.
So no, we’re not trying to be bold just for the sake of it. We’re just finally saying the quiet part out loud. And maybe, just maybe, the Nigerian single girl has always had something to say. She just needed someone to say it with.
EKI OGUNBOR REBECCA FABUNMI
how it feels. How we feel. That’s the shift.
AMVCA 2025 PROVED ONE THING: MEN’S FASHION IS NO LONGER BORING
By Funke Babs-Kufeji
Red carpet menswear in Nigeria used to be the predictable pause in an otherwise thrilling fashion conversation.
Black tux, rinse, repeat.
But at the 2025 Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA), something shifted. The men arrived not just dressed but styled. Not just tailored, but curated. Gone were the safe bets and stiff lapels. In their place? Flair, fluidity, and fashion-forward audacity.
This year’s AMVCA red carpet didn’t just flirt with the idea of redefining masculine elegance — it fully committed. From sculptural brocades to shirts left deliberately missing, the men made it clear: style has entered its main character era. And we’re here for it. Here’s how they did it — and why Nigerian menswear may never look the same again.
Desmond Elliott
Desmond Elliott showed up in what can only be described as a fashion risk with capital R — a black floor-length gown featuring an elephant motif. Was it a fashion favourite? Not exactly. But was it a conversation starter? Absolutely. It pushed the boundaries of masculine red-carpet fashion, challenging expectations and sparking debates across timelines. Safe? No. Courageous? Yes. And in a world of identical suits, that alone earns applause.
Elozonam
Elozonam didn’t come to blend in.
His custom red flared suit by Jeff Urban Clothing was a bold reinvention of menswear silhouettes, complete with dramatic trousers and a blazer that meant business. But the real stunner?
A tonal red floral appliqué on the back — soft, sculptural, unexpected. Paired with a matching red shirt and restrained accessories, it was part vintage drama, part modern cool. One of the evening’s true style risks — and rewards.
Ebuka Obi-Uchendu
By now, we expect Ebuka to deliver. But this year, he surprised us by making his designer the centrepiece. His black tuxedo, boldly printed with “Mai Atafo” in repeat script, turned fashion into authorship. Paired with a crisp lapel and skinny tie, the look was clean — but loud in all the right ways. It was part brand placement, part fashion diplomacy, and all Ebuka. A reminder that in his world, style is always intentional.
Yhemo Lee
Yhemo Lee walked the line between art and structure in a textured French tweed jacket detailed with a subtle hand motif. Paired with crisp black trousers, the look was modern, sleek, and slightly subversive. Proof that you don’t need fireworks to make fashion magic — sometimes, a well-cut jacket with just the right twist does the trick.
Chimezie Imo
Chimezie Imo didn’t just show up. He arrived. In a blood-red Fai World suit with an almost liquid-like texture, his look was more cinematic than red carpet. The inky patterns, the razorsharp tailoring, the sheer intensity of the outfit — it was both fashion and feeling. A perfect match for his status as one of Nollywood’s most dynamic young actors. Art, but make it wearable.
Akin Faminu
Trust Akin Faminu to bring drama and discipline in equal measure. Clad in a deep red floral tuxedo by Deji & Kola, Akin was regal, deliberate, and deeply rooted in Nigerian craftsmanship. Every thread of embroidery read like a love letter to detail. It wasn’t just a look — it was a masterclass in balance: classic tailoring meets cultural expression meets undeniable fashion moment. If menswear is a language, Akin’s was poetry.
Bucci Franklin
There’s something quietly dangerous about a man who knows when to keep it simple — and Bucci Franklin’s shirtless look proved that restraint can be just as sexy as excess. Sleek tailoring, bold accessories, and the confidence to let skin do some of the talking? It worked. Less really was more.
Mike Afolarin
While others chased drama, Mike Afolarin embraced the power of minimalism. A classic black suit, sharp white shirt, and crisp tailoring made him the quiet standout of the night. No embellishments. No theatrics. Just confidence and impeccable fit. A look that whispered sophistication — and still turned heads.
Saga Adeolu Saga brought romance and richness with his emerald and sapphire brocade suit. The structured silhouette, the shimmer of the fabric, the intricately twisted lapel — it was all extra in the best possible way. Paired with minimal accessories and maximum poise, he proved that texture is the new print. It wasn’t just a look. It was a mood.
DIGITAL BURNOUT IS THE NEW PANDEMIC – 10 SIGNS YOU’RE IN TOO DEEP (AND WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT
Burnout used to come with a dress code — office clothes, long commutes, and late nights under fluorescent lights. But in today’s hyper-connected world, exhaustion doesn’t need a boardroom. All it takes is a phone, a Wi-Fi signal, and the subtle pressure to always be on. Welcome to the age of digital burnout — where doing “nothing” online can leave you more depleted than a 12-hour shift, and logging off feels like a radical act of self-preservation. Here are ten signs you’re deep in the digital spiral – and how to begin untangling yourself.
1. Your Eyes Ache, Even After You’ve Slept
You’ve had a full night’s sleep, your water bottle’s always within reach, and you’ve cut back on coffee — but your eyes still feel dry, sore, and permanently strained. It’s not fatigue. It’s the cost of staring into the blue light abyss of backto-back screens.
What to do: Adopt the 20-2020 rule: every 20 minutes, look at something 20 feet away for 20 seconds. And no — Instagram doesn’t count.
2.You Flinch at Notifications
Remember when a ping meant excitement? Now, your phone lights up and your chest tightens. Every notification feels like a mini alarm bell — one more task, one more demand, one more reminder that you’re never really offline.
What to do: Disable nonessential notifications. Mute group chats. Reclaim silence as a boundary, not a luxury.
3. You Scroll More Than You Create
Once upon a time, you journaled, baked, sketched, or danced in your living room. Now? You scroll. You consume content until your brain feels stuffed, but strangely empty. Your creative energy is being drained — not by doing too much, but by doing too little of what actually matters.
What to do: Choose one app to ignore this week. Use that time to do something tactile. Even boredom is a better use of your time than unconscious scrolling.
4. Group Chats Feel Like a Full-Time Job
5. You Can’t Watch TV Without Your Phone
Multitasking has gone rogue. You’re watching Netflix while checking emails, live-tweeting a show you barely understand, and planning tomorrow’s to-do list — all at once. The result? Everything feels like noise. Nothing feels like rest.
overdrive.
What to do: Accept that the list is neverending. Clock out anyway. Log off. Don’t answer that email at 10:37pm. You are not a machine.
7. Social Media Feels Like Work
You’re not scrolling for fun. You’re scanning. Curating. Replying. Watching numbers. Posting at “peak times.” It’s less social and more surveillance — of your own life. And when likes become currency, burnout isn’t far behind.
Work group, friends group, family group, parent-teacher group. At some point, it feels like you’ve joined every conversation and lost your own voice.
The pressure to react, reply, respond – it’s digital emotional labour, and it’s draining.
What to do: Exit the chat. Or silence it.
The people who need to reach you will find a way — preferably one that doesn’t involve 78 unread messages.
What to do: Try monotasking. Yes, it’s a thing. Let one screen have your attention. Let your brain remember what focus feels like.
6. You Always Feel Behind
No matter how many tasks you check off, there’s always another email waiting, another DM blinking, another update to read. Rest doesn’t feel earned — it feels guilty. There’s a word for that. It’s called
THIS MONTH IS MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH – SO HERE ARE SOME REMINDERS…
What to do: Go on a digital detox — even for a weekend. Watch how your brain resets, your thoughts slow down, and your self-worth recalibrates.
8. Doing “Nothing” Feels Wrong
You sit down to rest – and instinctively reach for your phone. Two hours later, you’re still in the same position, deep into videos you didn’t want to watch and threads you didn’t need to read. And somehow, you’re more tired than before.
What to do: Schedule offline time that’s intentionally unproductive. Yes — pencil it in. Let yourself be bored. Let your brain stretch, wander, and rest.
9. The Joy Is Gone
You once loved what you were doing – building a business, running a blog, connecting with a community. Now, it all feels performative. The spark is dimming. The pressure to produce, to be visible, to “stay relevant” is weighing you down.
What to do: Revisit your why. Strip everything back to the original intention. If it no longer serves you, allow yourself to pivot or pause.
10. You’re Never Fully Present
You check your phone during meals, during conversations, during moments that should be whole. Even on a walk, you need music. Even in silence, you crave stimulation. You’re everywhere and nowhere at once. What to do: Reclaim your presence. Eat without screens. Walk without earbuds. Listen — really listen — when someone speaks. Stillness isn’t wasted time. It’s the antidote.
It’s easy to post a quote. “Check on your strong friends.” “Your mental health matters.” “It’s okay not to be okay.” And while these words are true and well-meaning, Mental Health Awareness Month should be more than just a carousel of catchphrases on Instagram. It should be a collective pause—a cultural deep breath. A moment where we don’t just repost the message—we actually live it. In a time that rarely slows down— where burnout is paraded as productivity and vulnerability is too often mistaken for weakness— protecting your peace has become a quiet act of rebellion. So, as we step into May, here are some real, grounded reminders worth holding on to—not just for this month, but for life.
1. YOU DON’T NEED TO BE FALLING APART TO ASK FOR HELP.
T he myth of rock bottom is dangerous. You don’t have to wait until you’re spiralling, crying in the bathroom, or cancelling plans to justify reaching out. Therapy isn’t only for the broken. It’s for the tired, the confused, the overwhelmed, the ones who just need a little help navigating this wild thing called life. Seeking support when things are “fine” is not dramatic. It’s intelligent. Preventive, even.
2. REST IS NOT A REWARD.
Somewhere along the way, we started treating rest like dessert—something to be earned after we’ve hustled, suffered, or burned out. But rest is not a luxury. It is a biological and emotional necessity. You are allowed to nap, say no, cancel a plan, sleep in, or take a break without writing a thesis to justify it. Productivity doesn’t determine your worth. You don’t have to hustle to be enough.
3. NOT ALL SELF-CARE IS AESTHETIC.
Candles, face masks, and soft jazz in the background can be soothing, yes. But real self-care is often unsexy. It’s unfollowing accounts that make you feel inadequate. It’s logging off. It’s saying what you mean, setting boundaries, taking your meds, drinking water, and sometimes, doing the uncomfortable thing because it’s the healthiest choice. Mental wellness isn’t always cute—it’s real work.
4. YOUR FEELINGS ARE VALID EVEN IF SOMEONE HAS IT “WORSE.”
Comparison is a thief of joy, of empathy, and healing. Just because someone else is struggling more doesn’t mean your pain is irrelevant. There’s no hierarchy of suffering. You are allowed to feel sad, lost, anxious, or off, even if your life looks “good on paper.” Pain is not a competition. Your emotions are your own, and you’re allowed to feel them fully.
5. IT’S OKAY TO CHANGE YOUR MIND.
Growth means shedding. Beliefs, routines, people, and ideas that no longer serve you. That doesn’t make you inconsistent—it makes you human. You can outgrow a friendship. You can change careers. You can stop doing what once made you happy and still be whole. Mental health means listening to yourself when your needs evolve, and responding with compassion, not judgment.
6. CHECKING IN ON OTHERS ALSO MEANS CHECKING IN ON YOURSELF.
Y es, it’s beautiful to be there for your people. But if you’re constantly pouring from an empty cup, the compassion becomes performative. You matter, too. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is say, “I’m not okay,” and mean it. Let people hold you, too.
7. HEALING ISN’T LINEAR, AND THAT’S OKAY.
Some days you’ll wake up feeling like you’ve cracked the code—clear-minded, hopeful, light. And then out of nowhere, a wave hits, and you’re back in bed, wondering if you’ve made any progress at all. That’s normal. Healing doesn’t follow a timeline. There are no gold stars. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to take detours. What matters is that you keep choosing yourself, even on the hard days.
8. YOU’RE DOING BETTER THAN YOU THINK.
I n a world obsessed with “the next big thing,” it’s easy to forget how far you’ve come. So take a moment. Think about where you were last year, last month, even last week. The small wins count. The mornings you got out of bed when you didn’t want to. The texts you replied to. The deep breaths you took instead of screaming. You are a quiet miracle in motion.
DELE MOMODU LEGACY IN MOTION
BY KONYE NWABOGOR
There are people who chase relevance, and then there are those who become it. Dele Momodu, at 65, stands as one of the few Nigerians who has not only witnessed the evolution of media, politics, and public life, but has also shaped it.
To say he has lived many lives would be an understatement.
Journalist. Publisher. Political aspirant. Cultural archivist. Outspoken commentator. And yet, even with a life so full, he’s still writing new chapters— on his own terms.
For decades, he has moved between boardrooms and ballrooms, newsrooms and palaces, always with a reporter’s curiosity and a statesman’s gravitas. Through Ovation International, the glossy magazine he founded in 1996, Momodu did something audacious: he made African success not just visible, but glamorous. He documented history in real-time, spotlighting not just presidents and billionaires, but the spirit of a continent eager to be seen on its own terms. However, what makes his story truly compelling isn’t just the magazine covers or the celebrity handshakes—it’s the mind behind it all. Dele Momodu has consistently shown a rare ability to stay ahead of the curve. While others were still adjusting to hashtags and livestreams, he was already building his digital voice, engaging global audiences, and mentoring a new generation of storytellers—without losing the elegance and depth that defined his early career in print.
Unapologetically vocal and refreshingly blunt, he has mastered the delicate art of being both insider and outsider. He critiques power without flinching, yet understands the machinery from the inside. His 2011 presidential bid may not have led to a seat at Aso Rock, but it cemented his place in Nigeria’s democratic conversation—a media man unafraid to step into the arena.
At 65, he is reflective, but far from retiring. His curiosity remains sharp, his presence magnetic, his words weighty. Whether he’s sharing memories of MKO Abiola, challenging government policies on Instagram live, or spotlighting a rising designer he bumped into at the airport, Dele Momodu remains an institution unto himself—seasoned, yes, but never static.
In this exclusive interview with Konye Chelsea Nwabogor , he opens up about the Ovation journey, his views on Nigeria today and his fears and hopes for the media.
Happy Birthday, sir. 65 is indeed a markable milestone. What thoughts have been occupying your mind in this season of reflection? When you think back to the young man walking the grounds of Ife, did you ever imagine this life- this kind of journey? To be quite honest, my life seems to have been on a rollercoaster. It is surreal. I don’t really know how my father, Jacob Momodu, migrated from a village called Ihievbe, in today’s Edo State, to the ancient town of Ile-Ife, and met my mother, Gladys, from Gbongan, and they fell in love with each other. was born in 1960 and was the only child of their union. My father worked with the Public Works Department (PWD) where he rose to become a Road Road Overseer. My mother was a petty trader who sold food to prisoners and warders at Ife Prisons. We were of extremely modest income but survived on goodwill and contentment.
In 1973, my father suddenly passed on, and life immediately became
I grew up reading Marxist/Leninist and Soyinkean literatures. I participated in many struggles. I was in exile during the Abacha regime, and I joined Senator Bola Ahmed Tinubu and other NADECO fighters in pulling some stunts. Therefore, I cannot be afraid of speaking truth to Tinubu today because he’s President. I expect him to remember and appreciate our journeys together and respect my right to free speech. I will never disrespect or disparage him, but I will never be squeamish in front of any Nigerian leader. At 65, I’m now an elder statesman and ready to make sacrifices for my nation.
harrowing for the family he left behind. I was barely 13 at that time and I had to meander my ways through a labyrinth of unforeseen circumstances and unimaginable challenges. We were kicked out of our rented “face-me-Iface-you” home in Moore, Ile-Ife. We had to move in with our sympathetic family, The Oyemades, in Modakeke. It was impossible to see or envisage a bright future ahead of us. My mother really laboured hard. My dreams then were limited. Perhaps, at the very best, I had hoped to graduate, become a teacher, marry a teacher, and live happily thereafter.
Ovation has become more than a magazine. It’s part of the cultural fabric. Did you always know you were building something that would outlive trends? What was the founding vision, and has it stayed intact over the years – or has it evolved with you?
The story of Ovation is that of a mysterious babe that came out of an unplanned and unexpected pregnancy. had originally planned to have this baby in 1991, after lost my job as Editor of Classique magazine, but had to abort the plans when funding it became a major problem.
Fast forward to 1995, I suddenly became exiled in London and a new and scary situation stared at me. How do survive in a city where every bill must be paid as at when due? My cousin, Segun Fatoye, then came up with the suggestion that should establish a media company in London.
Once again, funding became a major hurdle to cross. We managed to raise the less than 20 percent of what was required but we were determined to overcome all obstacles. Our passion for excellence and quality was extraordinary, and we were determined to produce a world-class publication, and God answered our prayers.
You’ve covered some of the most powerful and iconic people in the world. Of all the rooms you’ve entered, and all the stories you’ve captured, which ones left a permanent mark on you?
Without any doubt, it would be the awe-inspiring room of Ambassador Chief Antonio Deinde Fernandez on an island in New York. Nothing compares to it. The closest would probably be the home of Alhaji Mai Deribe in Maiduguri. Both properties were photographed exclusively for Ovation International magazine by the famous Scottish photographer, Colin Ramsay, now of blessed memories. We had so much fun shooting those iconic homes.
You’ve remained consistently relevant in a media landscape that’s constantly evolving. How were you able to expand so seamlessly into the digital space? What do you credit for that adaptability?
My determination to succeed is extraordinary. have always had this nagging fear of returning to those days of anguish and agony.
Fortunately for me, decided to contest Nigeria’s Presidential election in 2011. Naturally, was compelled to embrace social media. After losing the election, converted them from politics to business. It was the smartest move ever made.
You have also managed to build a distinct voice online, especially on social media. What do you think is the role of a journalist in the age of immediacy, visibility, and algorithms?
Our role is not just to post salacious falsehoods in the name of beating deadlines or creating trends. We must demonstrate restraint and responsibility. All is not lost, though. Nigeria still parades some of the brightest and boldest journalists in Africa. The biggest impediment to quality journalism is the dwindling income. Most media houses are barely surviving.
No doubt, journalism has become an endangered specie in our country Nigeria. Anyone with a smartphone can set up an instant blog, no matter how poorly educated. This is dangerous and highly inimical to the growth of a once-revered profession.
Do you think Nigerian journalism still holds power, or has it become too entwined with politics, commerce, and survival?
Every media organisation is usually a reflection of the biases and prejudices of its proprietors. This is not limited to Nigeria. This is even more pronounced in Europe and America where media is often divided on ideological grounds.
You’ve always had the courage to say what others won’t. What gives you the confidence to speak so boldly, particularly on political matters?
I graduated from the then University of Ife, now Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, and also bagged a Master’s degree from the same institution, which was well renowned for its radicalism and “A luta” culture. grew up reading Marxist/Leninist and Soyinkean literatures. participated in many struggles. I was in exile during the Abacha regime, and joined Senator Bola Ahmed Tinubu and other NADECO fighters in pulling some stunts. Therefore, I cannot be afraid of speaking truth to Tinubu today because he’s President. I expect him to remember and appreciate our journeys together and respect my right to free speech. I will never disrespect or disparage him, but I will never be squeamish in front of any Nigerian leader. At 65, I’m now an elder statesman and ready to make sacrifices for my nation.
Your commentary on Nigeria, especially its leadership, economy, and direction, often stirs intense reactions. Do you worry about backlash, or is that part of the responsibility that comes with being a public voice?
I have since passed the stage of worrying over any backlash from rulers and their acolytes. I’m sure they know I’m a sincere critic and not a career agitator. It would have been a lot easier for me to join the government and gain access to stupendous opportunities, but I chose the road less travelled. I’m very proud of my choice and intend to exercise my FREEDOM of expression and Association till eternity.
What frustrates you most about Nigeria’s current political landscape? Is there anything that still gives you hope? I’m definitely frustrated about the lack of principle and ideology in our politics. The shamelessness of politicians also worries me. The level of greed and self-aggrandisement is too shocking and unacceptable in more reasonable terrains. Hope is fast evaporating in me. I’m only awaiting a miracle.
You’ve built a media empire, travelled across continents, shaped public narratives, and influenced policy conversations—but what would you say has been your proudest moment?
I will humbly and modestly say I have succeeded in building not just a global brand but also a double brand, similar to that of Richard Branson of the Virgin Group and Bill Gates of Microsoft. I received the honorary Fellowship of the African Public Relations Association (APRA) alongside President John Dramani Mahama in Kigali, Rwanda, in 2019, in recognition of my public relations skills. Mine has been an uncommon trajectory. And give God all the glory.
What would you like Ovation to represent in another 70 years, long after your name has become history?
A media outfit that continues to promote the positive stories of Africa.
What brings you the most joy in private moments—away from the public persona, the interviews, the speaking engagements?
Watching my children grow into men doing great things of their own without relying on their father’s name or contacts.
You’ve mentored many young voices, both in media and politics. What is the one quality you believe is non-negotiable for anyone who wants to last in this space? Integrity.
What’s something you believe now, at 65, that you didn’t believe at 35?
That Nigeria could ever degenerate to this terrible level.
What still drives you? What keeps you curious?
The passion for greatness.
When all is said and done, what do you hope the Ovation of your life sounds like?
A glorious HERITAGE.
WHAT THE NEXT GENERATION OF NIGERIAN DESIGNERS ARE GETTING RIGHT
There’s a new rhythm in Nigerian fashion, and if you’re paying attention — really paying attention — you can feel it pulsing through Instagram reels, Fashion Week runways, designer-led pop-ups, and digital lookbooks. The next generation of Nigerian designers isn’t just arriving; they’re taking up space, rewriting the rules, and forcing the fashion industry, locally and globally, to reframe how and where innovation happens. Gone are the days when success in fashion meant waiting to be discovered by Europe or validated by foreign press. This new wave is self-aware, internet-literate, and unapologetically rooted in their identity. They’re not looking to replicate an aesthetic. They’re building movements. They’re telling stories. And they’re doing it loudly — on their own terms.
THEY’RE DESIGNING FOR THE INTERNET, NOT JUST THE RUNWAY
Social media didn’t just democratise fashion; it handed over the keys. For Nigerian designers, platforms like Instagram and TikTok have become much more than publicity tools — they are digital showrooms, mood boards, community hubs, and sometimes even the primary point of sale. Designers now drop collections like albums, teased through cinematic reels and model casting callouts that double as engagement posts. Content is not an afterthought. It’s embedded in the design process itself — the backdrop, the music, the lighting, the captions. It’s all part of the narrative. What this generation understands is that virality isn’t always about polish — it’s about presence. And when your entire brand can be experienced in a 30-second clip, you either learn to speak the language of the scroll or risk being swiped into irrelevance.
I nfluencer collaborations used to be an afterthought — a nice-to-have. Not anymore. Emerging Nigerian designers are not just dressing influencers; they’re building brand identities around culture-makers who embody their ethos. But it’s not just about slapping a dress on a celebrity. It’s about alignment. Whether it’s an alternative music girl with 300k cult followers or a rising Nollywood
star with Gen Z appeal, today’s designers are styling with strategy. In some cases, stylists and content creators have become the new gatekeepers — if your piece ends up on the right body with the right caption at the right moment, you’ve launched a brand.
THEY’RE
NOT JUST ON THE MAP –THEY’RE DRAWING IT
Fashion Weeks remains a powerful platform, but this generation isn’t waiting for formal invitations or glossy approval.
Independent fashion events — from rooftop viewings to art gallery showcases and off-season studio presentations — are redefining the runway. Pop-ups are as carefully curated as museum installations, merging fashion with performance art, live music, or political commentary.
This autonomy has allowed younger designers to experiment. They’re hosting trunk shows in living rooms and beachside warehouses, merging physical spaces with virtual access. The audience is global, even when the show is hyperlocal. You don’t need a front-row seat if you have Wi-Fi.
THEY’RE TREATING RETAIL LIKE A REVOLUTION
Nigerian designers have traditionally faced uphill battles with production, infrastructure, and stockists. But this new class is hacking the system. Instead of chasing brick-and-mortar shelf space, they’re going straight to the consumer — through Instagram DMs, WhatsApp waitlists, Shopify storefronts, and curated market events.
What was once seen as DIY is now strategy. Direct-to-consumer models allow them to control margins, storytelling, and client relationships.
Independent concept stores — both online and physical — are also becoming tastemakers, amplifying brands that larger retailers once ignored.
It’s scrappy, sure. But it’s working. And in a climate where even international luxury houses are pivoting toward community and direct engagement, Nigerian designers aren’t behind — they’re ahead.
THEY
UNDERSTAND THE NEW LUXURY IS LOCAL
One of the biggest shifts this generation has embraced is the idea that local is not the opposite of luxury — it’s the definition of it. Instead of toning down African aesthetics to fit a global template, they’re doubling down on them. Think heritage techniques, handwoven fabrics, hand-dyed details, and storytelling rooted in personal identity and geography. And it’s not just performative. These brands are making real investments in preserving indigenous craftsmanship — working with artisans from Aba to Kano and turning centuries-old techniques into
modern couture. The result is fashion that isn’t just wearable — it’s collectible.
THEY’RE BUILDING SUSTAINABILITY INTO THE PROCESS, NOT THE PITCH
Unlike global fashion players who often retrofit sustainability into existing systems, many Nigerian designers are starting from scratch and building slow fashion into the bones of their brands. Not out of trend, but out of necessity and principle.
We’re seeing more labels embrace limited drops, pre-orders, small-batch production, upcycled fabrics, and waste-conscious cuts. It’s not glamorous work — but it’s deeply intentional. For many, it’s also a way to push back against the environmental consequences of mass production, especially in a country already battling poor waste management and climate vulnerability.
This generation isn’t just eco-conscious — they’re eco-clever. They know that sustainability must go beyond fabric choice. It has to encompass fair labour, community economics, and long-term thinking.
THEY’RE
RESPONDING TO A SMARTER MARKET
T oday’s Nigerian fashion consumer is not just style-savvy — they’re idea-hungry. They want meaning. They ask who made their clothes, where the fabric was sourced, and what the label stands for. And this generation of designers is answering in kind.
Whether it’s fashion that leans genderless, Afrominimalist, hyper-feminine, or experimental, there’s a new emotional intelligence to the way collections are presented. Brands aren’t simply offering pieces; they’re offering perspective. A mood. A manifesto.
This market-savviness also reflects in pricing, customer service, and brand positioning. Some designers are intentionally niche. Others are scaling slowly with capsule lines and limitededition releases. There’s no one-size-fits-all model — and that’s exactly the point.
THEY’RE
REDEFINING WHAT SUCCESS LOOKS LIKE
To “make it” in Nigerian fashion used to mean outfitting a First Lady, showing in Paris, or catching the attention of Vogue. That’s still a milestone for some, but it’s no longer the gold standard.
Now, success might mean having a loyal customer base that spans Lagos, Accra, and London. It could mean launching a collaborative art-fash-tech installation in Ikoyi. Or securing a spot at a design incubator in Nairobi or a sustainable design summit in Copenhagen. It might even be a viral reel, a sold-out drop, or an organic influencer post that sparks a cultural moment.
Whatever form it takes, the real success is this: Nigerian designers are finally allowed to define it for themselves.
BEAUTY TUKURA FOR EMMY KASBIT
SISIANO
DAVIDO FOR UGO MONYE
BABAYO
HERTUNBA WANNIFUGA
EKI KERE KHADIJU
WEEKEND SLAY IS A RELIGION – AND LAGOS IS THE HOLY GROUND
In Lagos, weekends are not for rest. They are for resurrection. By Friday afternoon, the city begins to stir — not in silence, but in sequins. Hair is laid, lashes are glued, nails are refreshed, and somewhere across the mainland and island, dresses are being delivered like sacred scrolls. The hustle may be for survival, but the weekend? That’s for showing up. Here, slay is not just fashion. It’s a full-blown spiritual practice. A Lagosian’s weekend isn’t complete without at least one outfit that stops traffic (literally), one brunch that turns into an impromptu photo shoot, and one perfume that leaves an impression stronger than your LinkedIn profile. To understand Lagos is to understand this: looking good is not a side note — it’s the headline. This is not a city that dresses down. This is a city that dresses up — for therapy, for escape, for joy. And if you’re going to play the game, you better know the rules. So consider this your fashion gospel — straight from the altar of Lagos living. Here’s how we slay. Amen.
1. Friday Is for Transformation, Not Casual Friday
2. Pre-Game Is a Sacred Ritual
Forget business casual. Lagosians know that by 2 pm on Friday, the real shift begins. You leave the office with your spirit already in the streets. Your tote bag holds your weekend starter pack — heels, lip gloss, fragrance, alter ego. That car-to-party transition is a rite of passage. You’re not just leaving work. You’re entering your power.
Before the world sees you, you must see yourself. The pregame is part meditation, part performance art — the playlist is curated, the wine is chilled, the mirror is the stage. The glow-up doesn’t just happen. It’s summoned.
3. Saturday Is for Full Fashion Warfare
Saturday in Lagos is not a drill. It’s couture or chaos. From weddings
to art shows to birthday dinners that feel like galas, Saturday is the Super Bowl of fashion. Aso ebi comes custom-fitted with builtin competition. Even the “simple” hangout demands a dramatic entrance. Slits, sequins, corsets, cutouts — no outfit is too much, and too much is never enough.
4. Aso Ebi Is a Sacred Oath
Once you collect the fabric, you’ve entered a covenant. Your tailor becomes your
co-conspirator, and the stakes are high. The difference between icon status and Instagram silence can come down to the neckline. Delivery delays? Sleepless nights. But when the outfit hits? Testimony.
5. Your Outfit Must Deliver a Word
In Lagos, fashion doesn’t whisper. It speaks in tongues. Whether it’s “rich auntie in silk,” “bad and booked,” or “don’t talk to
me unless your driver’s outside,” your outfit must announce your energy before you say a word.
6. Sunday Slay Is Soft But Still Strategic
After church — which has its own category of fashion politics — the brunch table becomes the new front row. Sunday looks are soft, expensive, and curated to look like no effort was made (which is, of course, a lie). Think flowing co-ords, statement flats, iced coffee, and sunglasses that block out struggle. Slay, but make
The Content Must Be Served and Posted
The photo dump is a Lagos ritual. That golden hour selfie? Holy. The “don’t rush me” caption? Canonical. If you served and didn’t post, did it even happen? We don’t go out just to go out. We go out for content. And if your bestie doesn’t get
your angles, is she really your bestie?
8. Repeat Outfits Are Allowed — But Only
If Reborn Wearing the same outfit twice is not a crime. But wearing it the same way? That’s where you fall short of the glory. Lagos girls know how to remix a look like it’s a remix album — new wig, new shoes, new energy. Resurrection, not repetition.
9. Men Are Part of the Ministry Now
This is no longer a womanonly sermon. Lagos men have joined the slay gospel — fully. Think crisp kaftans, embroidered agbadas, matching coordinates, sunglasses in the club, colognes with unprovoked confidence. The boys are not just around — they’re in their slay era, loud and proud.
10. Your Fragrance Is Your First Impression In Lagos, scent is identity.
Oud, rose, vanilla, sandalwood — it’s not perfume, it’s personality. You should arrive before your scent does. One whiff and people should remember you. If your outfit testifies, your scent must seal the altar call.
11. Slay Is a Survival Tactic, and That’s Fine
Why do we do it? Why all the drama, the layers, the lashes, the glitter? Because Lagos is hard. Because adulting is ghetto. Because if we don’t create moments of beauty, who will? Dressing up is how we cope. How we declare, “I’m still standing.” The slay is not shallow. It’s resilience in rhinestones.
12. Average Is a Sin
Let us be clear: in Lagos, mediocrity is not welcome. You don’t show up okay. You show up otherworldly. Even when the bank balance is confused, the outfit must never be. It’s the Lagos way. Look like a million, even if you borrowed the clutch.
BREAKING DOWN SKINCARE BUZZWORDS –
BECAUSE, HONESTLY, WHAT DO THEY
EVEN MEAN?
You walk into a beauty store for “just a cleanser,” and suddenly you’re drowning in a sea of terms that sound like they belong in a chemistry class, not on your face. Non-comedogenic. Antioxidant-rich. Microbiome-friendly. It’s like skincare brands are playing Scrabble and we’re the ones losing. Between influencer endorsements, aesthetic packaging, and TikTok jargon, skincare has become less about knowing your skin and more about keeping up with the lingo. And somewhere in between your 10-step routine and your third serum, you start to wonder— does any of this actually mean anything?
Spoiler alert: some of it does. A lot of it doesn’t. But we’re here to decode it anyway — no fluff, no fearmongering, just straight-up clarity.
1. ”Skin Barrier” – The Bouncer at the Door
Think of your skin barrier as your personal bodyguard. It keeps the good stuff (moisture) in and the bad stuff (pollution, bacteria, stress) out. If you’ve ever over-exfoliated and ended up red, tight, or randomly sensitive to everything, well, you’ve compromised it. Products claiming to “repair the barrier” usually include ceramides, fatty acids, and niacinamide to help your skin stop freaking out and go back to chill.
2. ”Non-Comedogenic” – Translation: Won’t Block Your Glow
All this means is: it shouldn’t clog your pores. It’s a helpful term for acne-prone or oily skin, but it’s not gospel. What doesn’t clog one person’s pores might break someone else out. Skin is petty like that. Use it as a guide, not a guarantee.
3. ”Antioxidant-Rich” – Your Skin’s Security Detail
Pollution. UV rays. Stress. They all release free radicals— basically unstable molecules that age your skin faster than a Lagos traffic jam ages your mood. Antioxidants like vitamin C, green tea, or resveratrol step in to neutralise the chaos. They protect, brighten, and help delay fine lines. Not magic, but definitely helpful.
4. ”Hydrating” vs. “Moisturising” – Yes, There’s a Difference
Hydration = water. Moisture = oil. Hydrating ingredients (like hyaluronic acid and glycerin) attract water into the skin, while moisturisers (like shea butter or squalane) seal that water in. If your face feels tight but looks shiny, you’re probably dehydrated and oily — yes, both can happen. Layer smart.
5. ”Clean Beauty” – The Wild West of Skincare
There’s no legal definition. None. Nada. It usually means a brand has excluded certain ingredients like parabens, sulfates, or synthetic fragrances, but each brand makes up its own rules. “Clean” doesn’t mean better. “Natural” doesn’t mean safer (arsenic is natural, too). If you’re ingredient-conscious, do your own research, not just vibes.
6. ”Microbiome-Friendly” — Yes, Your Skin Has Bacteria (And It Needs Them) Your skin hosts its own community of bacteria and fungi, and it’s a good thing. When that ecosystem is balanced, your skin glows. When it’s disrupted—harsh cleansers, stripping products—it gets irritated, dry, or reactive. Microbiome-friendly products aim to keep things peaceful. Basically, love your skin like a good roommate: don’t over-clean and leave things where they belong.
7. ”Fragrance-Free” vs. “Unscented” – Not the Same Thing “Fragrance-free” = no added fragrance. “Unscented” = smells neutral, but often still includes masking fragrances to cover the smell of raw ingredients. If your skin is sensitive to scent, go for fragrance-free, not just “unscented,” which is basically skincare gaslighting.
8. ”Active Ingredients” – The Power Players These are the ingredients that actually do the work: retinol (fine lines), salicylic acid (acne), vitamin C (brightening), AHAs (exfoliation). They’re the reason your skincare costs more than your dinner. Powerful, yes – but easy does it. Introduce one at a time, and for the love of glow, wear SPF.
Dear Reader,
SURVIV R THE
BY DR. KEMI DASILVA-IBRU AND GLORIA JOACQUIM
WARIF SURVIVOR STORIES
Welcome to the WARIF Survivor Stories Series, a monthly feature, where stories of survivors of rape and sexual violence are shared to motivate and encourage survivors to speak their truth without the fear of judgment or stigmatisation and to educate the public on the sheer magnitude of this problem in our society. The Women at Risk International Foundation (WARIF) is a non-profit organisation set up in response to the extremely high incidence of rape, sexual violence, and human trafficking of young girls and women in our society. WARIF is tackling this issue through a holistic approach that covers health, education, and community service initiatives. WARIF aids survivors of rape and sexual violence through the WARIF Centre a haven where trained professionals are present full time, 6 days a week including public holidays to offer immediate medical care, forensic medical examinations, psycho-social counseling, and welfare services which include shelter, legal aid, and vocational skills training. These services are provided FREE of charge to any survivor who walks into the Centre.
MIRACLE: A LIFE UNFOLDING AT 21
Imoved from the village to Lagos during the festive season of 2021 to live with my uncle and his family. They had promised to support my dream of pursuing higher education, as had just completed my secondary school back in the village. Adjusting to city life wasn’t easy—it took me about six months to truly settle in, as it was my first experience living in such a bustling environment.
About six months after arrived in Lagos, a neighbour named Adekunle, who would later become the perpetrator, began showing unexpected interest in me. We lived in the same compound. One day, out of the blue, he asked what he could buy for me on his way back from work. I was taken aback by the question and politely told him not to worry about getting me anything. But he kept insisting, so I eventually said he could get whatever he could afford. After all, my uncle and his family always made sure I had everything needed.
Adekunle later returned and asked me to follow him to collect what he had bought for me, claiming he had left it in the store.
I followed him, but instead of taking me to a store, he took me to a place which later discovered was a shortlet apartment he had paid for in advance. He opened the door, entered, and then he locked it behind us. He demanded that I kiss him, and refused.
in the file. She took my vitals and took me for the test at the lab. (HIV and other STDs test was carried out). I was taken to the doctor for medical assessment, a forensic examination was carried out, and treatment and drugs were given. I was taken for psycho-social care at the counselling unit as was still in shock and traumatised by the incident, but the counselling session was very helpful in calming me down and aiding my healing. All these services were carried out free of charge.
Adekunle pushed me onto the bed and pinned me down while screamed for help, but no one came to my rescue, even though believed they could hear me cry. He pulled up my skirt, removed my underwear, and pinned me down as struggled with him. He overpowered me and forcefully inserted his penis into vagina and raped me. When he was done, there were bloodstains on the bed sheets and my skirt. It was my first sexual experience, and it broke my heart to lose my virginity in such a traumatic way. Adekunle threatened me not to tell anyone about the incident, else he would harm me.
When I got home, was still afraid and shaken, yet I summoned courage and told our nanny. She encouraged me to call my dad and report the incident to him, which did. My dad then informed my uncle, who promptly reported the case to the police. The police referred us to the WARIF Centre. At the WARIF Centre, the security lady was very courteous and professional in her duties. The nurse did all the documentation and registered my details
The counsellor assured me it was not my fault, giving me hope and courage. joined the monthly group therapy sessions, which helped me learn appropriate coping techniques and develop a sense of belonging to heal from trauma. In the past, experienced trauma symptoms, especially flashbacks, insomnia, loss of appetite, guilt, and self-blame. At the last follow-up session, I can say that have overcome those symptoms. am doing well mentally, emotionally, and psychologically. Adekunle, the perpetrator, absconded from the environment after the incident, and the police officers did well and were able to trace him. He was found and arrested a few weeks later, and the case was charged to court. As of the last proceedings, he pleaded guilty, and am confident that will get justice for the crimes committed against me. gained admission to study Nursing at a Federal University in the Southeast. I decided it was best to change my environment and move closer to my hometown. am currently in my second year and doing excellently well in my academics. I have developed strong empathy for gender-based violence issues, and I intend to work in the GBV space and become an advocate upon graduation. All this would not have been possible without the support and care from the WARIF Centre. Many thanks to the WARIF Team!
* Real name of the Survivor changed for confidentiality Dear Survivor, please know that you are not alone, and it is not your fault. Help is available. If you have been raped or know someone who has, please visit us at:
