When this #NairaLife started a conversation online about savings culture, Gabriel* (28) saw himself in the subject. He talks about having millions saved but refusing to spend more than ₦20k per month, instead choosing to seek bailouts from friends.
This is Gabriel’s story, as told to Boluwatife
Image source: Freepik
I don’t know if I suffer from a chronic case of stinginess, but I have this chronic need to save money. I don’t have any issues with spending other people’s money, but I draw the line when it comes to mine.
I’m what my parents like to call a “miracle baby”. I have just one sibling, and he’s 13 years older than me. After my parents had my brother, they tried for years for another child, and eventually had me when they’d given up. By then, they’d spent so much on fertility treatments which really drained their finances. By the time I came around, they didn’t have money, but to them, I was an answered prayer.
I didn’t realise how bad the situation was until I was around eight or nine. If I ate twice a day, it meant my parents could only eat once that day. I watched as my brother worked crazy hard to support us financially. And it looked like he’d actually be the one to lift us from the depths of poverty. Around that time, he made enough to move us out of our one-room apartment in Bariga. But he decided to invest the rent money and the investment flopped. It was back to square one, and we never recovered.
I think that’s when my chronic need to save started. In my mind, if I don’t touch the money, nothing bad would happen to it. Anytime anyone dashed me money or asked me to keep the change after running an errand, I’d hide it inside a hole in the wall of our apartment. I preferred to beg my mates for sweets when they bought them with money they were given, rather than buy my own sweets.
Even when I managed to get into university, I kept feeling like I’d be made to drop out at any time over unpaid fees, so even though I helped my fellow students with assignments for a fee, I wouldn’t touch the money I made. I lived on handouts from my brother and squatted with friends. The few times I had to touch my savings for school expenses when my brother couldn’t afford it, it felt like I was physically hurting myself.
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I work now and earn an average of ₦180k per month, but my mantra is, “I don’t have money”. My parents and friends think I earn ₦60k because I’m trying to avoid black tax. I live on around ₦20k every month only because I have to eat and take public transportation to get to work.
I’m a single homebody, so I never have to eat out or spend money on a girlfriend. My friends are amazing guys who make good money, and they’re always helping me with bailouts. I live with my best friend so rent isn’t a problem, though I try to handle our food expenses once in a while. The last time I bought myself clothes was three years ago. I still have a shirt I’ve been wearing since 2016.
I sometimes feel bad that I can’t be honest with my friends about how much I earn, but them knowing would only increase their expectations of me, and when I refuse to spend, they may call me stingy. But I honestly can’t bring myself to spend unless it’s absolutely necessary. Even then, I hate spending my own money.
My savings are running into millions now, but I try not to focus on it. In this country, you’re one sickness away from depleting your entire account. One medical emergency can have you spending ₦5 million like it’s ₦5k. So, it only makes sense to save for the rainy day.
I hope to japa one day, so I also save with that in mind, but the truth is, even if I don’t need money for proof of funds in the future, I’d still save like my life depends on it, because it does. There’s this assurance that seeing money in my bank account gives me. It tells me I’d never go back to that eight-year-old boy whose dream of leaving Bariga was unexpectedly cut short because of money.
*Name has been changed for the sake of anonymity.
