Ogunleye Oluwagbemisola, Author at 91¿´ƬÍøվ! /author/ogunleye/ Come for the fun, stay for the culture! Thu, 01 Oct 2026 15:07:39 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.1.2 /wp-content/uploads/zikoko/2020/04/cropped-91¿´ƬÍøվ_91¿´ƬÍøվ_Purple-Logo-1-150x150.jpg Ogunleye Oluwagbemisola, Author at 91¿´ƬÍøվ! /author/ogunleye/ 32 32 Five Things You Should Know About the Dangote Refinery IPO /her/dangote-refinery-ipo-things-to-know/ Thu, 01 Oct 2026 15:04:44 +0000 /?p=385211 Word on the street is that everybody and their daddy is buying Dangote Refinery shares. With the constant talk about people getting in on the action, it’s easy to feel like you’re missing out on something big. It might be because you don’t know how to buy shares. Or if you’ve already bought some, you don’t know what you’ve bought.

The Initial Public Offering (IPO) for Dangote Petroleum Refinery and Petrochemicals FZE opened on September 14, 2026, and will close on October 13, 2026.  You can buy the shares through the Dangote Petroleum Refinery Public Offer portal or through any of the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) approved banks. Other approved purchase channels include investment firms, fintech platforms, and electronic application channels listed on the IPO’s official . They include InvestNaija, Cowrywise, Bamboo, and PiggyVest. 

But before you join the frenzy, or if you already have, there are five things you should know about what you’re actually buying.

1. Buying Dangote Refinery shares doesn’t mean you get a seat at the table 

You’ve heard that the Dangote refinery is offering 4.1 billion shares, and objectively, that is a big number. In reality, however, only about of the company is being offered to the public. Even if the company exercises its oversubscription option and offers another of the original amount it intends to sell to the public, Dangote will remain the majority stakeholder with an estimated % stake in the company.  If all 4.1 billion shares are allotted and you buy the minimum 10 shares at ₦525 each, you would own approximately 0.00000000805% of Dangote Refinery. In summary, buying the listed shares makes you the owner of a very small fraction of the company. 

2. The Dangote IPO is not exactly sharing the national cake

An IPO is an opportunity to buy shares offered to the public before they begin trading on the stock exchange (secondary market). But subscribing for shares doesn’t mean you will receive them.  Your application still needs to be validated before the company offers the requested shares in a process called allotment. The process for the Dangote IPO is expected around (if the (SEC) has no objections). Till then, the money you paid when you subscribed is blocked in your account.

Here’s where it gets interesting: there aren’t always enough shares to go around. If the company offers four billion shares and gets six billion offers, ? If people subscribe for more than is available, you may receive fewer shares than you requested. That means subscribing for 1,000 shares does not necessarily mean you’ll receive all 1,000. The good news is that if you’re allotted fewer shares than you paid for, the excess money is usually returned to the bank account linked to your subscription.

3. The ‘Dangote’ name is only half the story

Aliko Dangote is Africa’s richest man and a household name. Because of that, it’s easy to assume that investing with a billionaire immediately guarantees the safety of your money. But an IPO is not a savings account, and your investment risk is tied to the company,  not the man who owns it. Similarly, the past performance of Dangote’s other businesses, whether cement, sugar, or salt, does not guarantee the refinery’s success. Before you buy into the company, your wealth of information should be more than ‘Dangote is the owner of the refinery’. 

4. Profits earned by the company are not automatically paid to shareholders

The IPO warns that the refinery’s estimated earnings depend on assumptions about crude oil prices, operating costs, economic conditions, and several other factors. The actual results may be different from the profits you’ve been told to expect. So there’s a good chance that the shares you bought will become more valuable. But there’s also a chance that the opposite could happen.

The company does not guarantee (a portion of the company’s profits paid to shareholders). One reason why dividends may not be paid is the refinery’s intention to expand its capacity. Because of this, the company may choose to keep substantial parts of its profit rather than distributing it to the shareholders. The refinery can be very profitable while paying you little in dividends because it is reinvesting the money.

5. It’s not a get-rich-quick scheme 

A bottle of Fanta costs 500 naira. Paying approximately that amount to own part of Africa’s largest refinery seems like a steal. But ₦525 is the offer price, not a promise about what the shares will be worth once they begin trading on the stock exchange (secondary market). The question isn’t whether you can afford it but whether it’s a good buy for you.  Shares/stocks are a medium- to long-term investment, and it might not be a good idea to buy shares with your last 10k if you know you’ll need it in two weeks.  Not all opportunities are good for you. 


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Anne Njemanze On Survival, Choice, And The Power Of Empathy In A Happy Ending /her/a-happy-ending/ Tue, 22 Sep 2026 14:55:06 +0000 /?p=384540 In 1996, Anne Njemanze played Domitilla, a character so popular that “” became a Nigerian slang for “whore.” Thirty years later, she has returned to the same world from a different position. In , Anne plays Madam Ngozi, the sophisticated owner of a luxury spa where wealthy clients can opt for sexual services. Unlike Domitilla, who spends the entirety of the trying to survive on the margins of Lagos society, Madam Ngozi is on the  other side. She owns the business, and she manages the women who work for her.

The connection between the two characters is not a coincidence. “A Happy Ending seems like we are trying to mirror the two characters,” Anne tells 91¿´ƬÍøվ. “I think of Domitilla as a younger version of Madam Ngozi.”

When Anne first picked up the script, she didn’t make the connection. It wasn’t until she saw Domitilla and A Happy Ending placed side by side on merchandise for the latter that she saw a parallel between the two characters.

In Domitilla, Anne plays a young secretary who takes up prostitution as a side hustle to supplement her meagre income. The film eventually becomes a cautionary tale when a wealthy politician dies after spending the night with her. A Happy Ending approaches the theme of sex work from a different angle. The film seems to tell us that Madam Ngozi is who Domitilla was trying to become. 

Anne describes Madam Ngozi as a pragmatic and highly perceptive woman who is polished and sophisticated. But she has also “been through life”. She sees her as a survivor who has ridden the vehicle of opportunity to get to where she is in society.

Madam Ngozi’s vehicle of opportunity, however, makes her a morally questionable character. Her business model is built around wealthy clients requesting sexual services from her  female workers. This makes us wonder whether  she is exploiting vulnerable women. One might say that she is giving them a way to survive in a patriarchal society with a harsh economic climate.

To Anne, the depravity of human beings is not something anyone can control. And in doing business, the primary goal is to satisfy the needs of the client. Madam Ngozi does not force the women who work for her to give anyone ‘ A happy ending’.

“I love the part where Madam Ngozi tells Tatiana, ‘He doesn’t own you’” She says. When Madam Ngozi approaches her workers, she acknowledges that a ₦70,000 salary may not be enough to build the kind of life they want. At the same time, she makes it clear that they are free to decline the opportunity without putting their jobs at risk.

Anne also thinks the conversation about sex work often leaves out the people who create the demand for it. Anne believes that there is an element of hypocrisy in this conversation that we aren’t questioning.  More fingers should be pointed at the “so-called rich man” in A Happy Ending.

“What stops the Senator from saying, ‘Tatiana, what are your qualifications? What is your educational background? What do you think you want to do in life?’ What stops him from simply being kind and investing in her life and her future?” She asks.

Instead of telling her to learn a skill or do something else, he exposes her to a wealthy lifestyle she cannot afford.  The senator tells her that the only way to gain access to it is on his own terms.

For Anne, this dynamic reflects a wider problem with the way Nigerian society talks about women who do  sex work. The women are often judged for the choices they make, while the men who pay for sex remain invisible.

“A woman can come out and tell you confidently that ‘I be ashewo’, but a man can’t come out and tell you confidently that he pays for sex,” she says. “Unfortunately, a lot of men do.”

She believes this double standard is part of a culture that makes it harder for vulnerable women to survive. It also makes it easier for society to blame them when they take desperate measures.

“There are men who are upset when they see successful women. They ask, ‘Why is she successful?’ They assume she must have done something ‘immoral’ to get there.”

That is also why Anne rejects the idea that A Happy Ending endorses prostitution. She believes the film is asking the audience to understand why some women might find themselves there in the first place.

“It’s easy to judge women like Tatiana and Madam Ngozi. But people like this are not invisible; they live with us. These characters deserve empathy too,” she says.

That empathy also extends to how these stories are told. Anne doesn’t believe every story about a woman in commercial sex work needs to end in tragedy.

“For the sake of cinema, we had to create a moral ending for Domitilla. But the stories of commercial sex workers do not always end badly. Some people actually stay in transactional relationships long enough to become ‘Madams’. They go to university, pay their bills, support their families and become success stories.  There are horrible stories, of course, with drugs, rituals and murders. But some women go on to have homes, and live good lives.”

In the thirty years between Domitilla and A Happy Ending, not much has changed about the way society views women in sex work. “It has just become more visible, fashionable, and modernised,” she tells 91¿´ƬÍøվ. What was once hidden is now much harder to ignore.

A Happy Ending is a story that teaches people to understand that these realities exist in our society, but Anne also sees it as a story that encourages women. She hopes women everywhere understand that they have choices. “I’ll tell you what: I’ve met a woman who washes cars on Sunday mornings. She has two teenage boys, and they wash cars with her. That’s a choice. The choices may not be palatable, but we do have choices.”

Anne’s return to this world is also a meeting between two generations of Nollywood. She played Domitilla for Zeb Ejiro, one of the industry’s most recognisable filmmakers of the 1990s. Three decades later, she’s working with Dika, a young director whose approach to filmmaking feels different. 

“He allows you to breathe as an actor, which is something a lot of directors don’t do,” she tells 91¿´ƬÍøվ

After spending time on set with him, she says she would like to work with him again but this time on something more intense. 

“I wish I could work with him on something much more demanding. It would be an honour for me.”


Next Read: ‘The Cost of a Better Life’ — Ifeoma Obinwa on love and survival  in A Happy Ending

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Dwin, The Stoic Writes Songs Made For More Than Your Headphones /pop/dwin-the-stoic-zikoko-life-series/ Mon, 07 Sep 2026 15:15:22 +0000 /?p=383652 Dwin, The Stoic (Dwin) writes songs that could easily be mistaken for lines from a book. Over the years, he’s given us stories that reflect reality, emotions, and a visual world that stays long after the music stops.

 It makes sense, then, that his music has found a home in film and television. From Skinny Girl in Transit and Far From Home to Disney’s MADU and, most recently, the 91¿´ƬÍøվ Life Series. Dwin’s songs have repeatedly found their way onto our screens.

For him, the relationship between music and film is more than just finding a convenient placement. ‘A song can elevate a film’, he says, ‘but a film can also give a song a new meaning for its audience’. In this article, Dwin tells 91¿´ƬÍøվ about the storytelling philosophy behind his music. Seeing “” and “” in the Dwin, The Stoic, believes stories can make unfamiliar experiences feel deeply personal. 

Glad to have you back with us, Dwin. What inspired the lyrics of “Beside Me”?

I wrote the song to simulate how a person might feel at the end of a fight with their partner. Particularly, thinking of the things you wish you’d said. The song starts with “I say to you these words unspoken,” and from those first lines, there is tension implied. To say words that were unspoken means you didn’t want to say them, but you also regret not saying them. 

That’s why I really love the use of it in the film . The moment it was used in is what “Beside Me” was made for. Two lovers share a tense moment and then get a chance to come back together. In the story of the album, they don’t go back to each other, but I’m glad they do in the film.

Did you draw from your own experiences when writing the song? 

When I play my music for people, I often hear, “I’ve never felt this thing that you’re describing, but I feel the heaviness.” I have a background in writing fiction, and my lyrics work the same way as any good story. It transports you somewhere else and makes you feel something that you may not have been feeling.

I try to do that when I write too. The tension in the song is not something I have to feel. In fact, when I feel tense, I’m not in the mood to write songs.  Overall, I don’t rely only on my experiences while writing songs. I think that would make my music very limited.

 “Time is Money” also featured in A Happy Ending. How did you feel about both Placements?

Excited. I mean, I’m an Igbo boy, and making “Time Is Money” was very intentional. The character in the album is very close to me. He’s also an Igbo boy. “Steady” is a song that’s sung entirely in Igbo on that album; “Ifunaya’m” is also on that album. 

People often say that Igbo people like money. The character in Time is Money plays into that. He’s likening the time that he thinks is being wasted by the girl he’s chasing to something precious to him, which happens to be money. But he’s also letting her know that the comparison is not to make her feel bad or to inspire guilt. It’s playful. It’s a man going up to the woman he likes and telling her, “Hey, I know you have options, but let me be the one. You’re happy here. Why are we wasting time?”

I love the placement in the film because the scene is set in a bar. People are eating, drinking beer, and it feels very apt for what I imagine for “Time Is Money.” It’s also fitting because the characters are very Igbo. 

Despite their differences, what connects “Beside Me” and “Time Is Money”? 

“Beside Me” and “Time is Money” are opposites. On one hand, someone is saying, “I couldn’t say the things I wanted to. Now you’ve gone, and I feel bad. I’m sorry, I can’t do this life without you beside me.” On the other hand, someone else is saying, “Hey, talk fast o, if not I will do this life without you”. But then, he’s jesting. In a way where there’s an unspoken ‘ I love you.’ In both cases, the underlying feeling is love, expressed in different ways.  

I love the placement of both songs because it captures what I’m trying to make of the music I put on my catalogue. The tagline of my record label, , is ‘Making your life’s soundtrack.’ This speaks to that.

We agree that these songs have been placed perfectly

Yes, they have.

But if you could pick two other songs to replace them, which ones would they be?

The scene where uses “Time Is Money” shows people drinking, eating, and having fun. I’d replace it with “I Go Nowhere” because it’s the kind of song that you listen to, bop your head, and just have a nice time.

For “Beside Me”, I think “Hold Me Now”. The song says, “There’s much we can worry our heads about, but all I know is here and now”. After the fight, when Tola comes back, Nazo says to him, “It’s hard. You know, this thing is hard,” And the only thing they can say to each other is “we’ll figure this out.” They hold each other, and in that moment they’re good. So I think it’s very fitting.

Is composing music specifically for films something you would be interested in going forward?

Almost every song I’ve written has had some sort of visual story attached to it. And because I have set out to put the story into song, it influences the kind of words I  use. Take “Time Is Money,” for example. The playfulness is in the way the words are said. There’s a line where the song says, in Igbo, “Awam Guy”. The best way I can translate that is ‘You’re doing guy for me’.  Saying ‘You’re ignoring me’ would not fit because that’s not really what I’m saying. The songs are already strong stories by themselves. I think that is why they work so well for films.

With a film, you must tell a story, and you have to have some sort of coherence or cohesion. In terms of “in this scene, this person says this while the other person says that.” So when a song is brought in, it needs to serve that same purpose. My first film placement happened a few months after the release of my first album. The people working on Season 5 of used about eight songs from the 13-track album. That clued me into the fact that I make songs that work well with films. I’ve been leaning into it since then.

How do you feel about seeing stories that you helped bring to Big Cabal on screen and still being part of the storytelling process?

Excited.

In my announcing that I would be leaving, I said that what I love most about 91¿´ƬÍøվ is that they do important work.  As people, we get stuck when we think that something in life is happening only to us. James Baldwin expressed this in the best way when he said, ‘I thought my pain was unprecedented in this world until I read a book’. We become a more understanding society when we start to read more stories. That idea is why I’m excited about the work 91¿´ƬÍøվ does. The fact that we can still collaborate on telling stories in different ways is great. Someone has to hold up a mirror to society, and 91¿´ƬÍøվ does that.  

How have you seen that happen?

Take LGBTQ+ rights for example, 91¿´ƬÍøվ publishes stories about queer people, and there will always be outrage. But as someone who has been on the back end, I have seen people’s opinions almost change in real time. By the time you’ve read three stories about someone who you believe you’re nothing like. You realize they too have a parent who’s in the hospital. And they can’t really make enough money to get them out of there.  They also have a lover who’s cheating on them; it doesn’t matter the gender, it does something to how you think. We start to see that even though we are dealing with life differently, we’re all still dealing with life.

I was able to take the role at 91¿´ƬÍøվ because  I’m passionate about storytelling, and that hasn’t changed. Now, someone who has listened to a song like “Beside Me” may never have felt the tension in the song.  But when they feel it, they’ll remember the song and probably go back to it. I’ve had people say that they didn’t understand a particular song until they heard it live, had something happen to them, or saw something that made its meaning hit. Some people will appreciate “Beside Me” more when they see it in this film. It’s why I’m happy to collaborate.  I think we should all be working together in some way. 


Next Read: 10 Songs That Prove Erigga Is One Of The Greatest Nigerian Rap Storytellers

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‘The Cost of a Better Life’ — Ifeoma Obinwa on love and survival  in A Happy Ending /her/ifeoma-obinwa-a-happy-ending/ Fri, 14 Aug 2026 15:57:12 +0000 /?p=382433 Ifeoma Obinwa has built a career around playing complex characters navigating survival and identity. With over , she has a reputation for strong screen performances. In her latest project, A Happy Ending, a short film in 91¿´ƬÍøվ’s three-part life production series,  Ifeoma tackles Tatiana.  The story follows a young woman who moves from Awka to Lagos in search of better prospects. When a wealthy Senator takes an interest in her, what begins with discomfort and uncertainty soon spirals into an arrangement that promises a way out of poverty. The arrangement costs her her closest friendship and sense of self. 

In this interview, Ifeoma talks to 91¿´ƬÍøվ about transactional relationships, on-screen chemistry with her co-star, and the process behind playing Tatiana.

How would you describe Tatiana in A Happy Ending?

Tatiana is a young, ambitious, hardworking girl. She has a desire to create a beautiful life for herself and her family. She’s timid and inexperienced in some ways, but she isn’t entirely innocent. 

Tatiana seems like a character that is instantly lovable. What did you find most compelling about her motivations?

Oh, I love this question. If I’m to say it in pidgin, I think hers is a case of  ‘I don come, I don come be dat’ (I’m here is I’m here). Even though this is not what I thought it was going to be like when I left home.  I’m not going to go pack my bags and go back home a failure.  

I think she was also motivated by her responsibilities. Imagine this: You’ve left your family at home, and you’ve gone somewhere far. Mommy is praying hard for you, Daddy is praying, and your siblings are praying too. Everybody’s praying that whatever it is you’re doing over there will work out. And this is so that you can be a source of liberation to the family. Then you go, and you’re faced with a situation that nobody explained to you. 

In what ways would you say she’s different from the characters that you’ve played in the past?

Hm. All I can say is that at least this time, I’m playing something different. I get typecast a lot, and I think it has to do with my breakout role as Ebele in Gifted. It’s common to put actors in a box, especially when they have a certain look. 

I have the look of a naive young girl. That look that says this is the kind of person who has all the hardships in life happen. If mommy did not die today, daddy will die tomorrow, or the landlord will evict her from the house. Sometimes it gets to the point where I’m like, ‘You people please now, I can be a serial killer too.  I  love that this story took advantage of the same things that always make me feel boxed and used it differently. 

How do you think the dynamic between Tatiana and the senator mirrors reality?

Like many young women, Tatiana is still naive.  So when a man comes into her life and begins to show her things she’s never seen before, she begins to think that’s the way life is. She does not take a moment to consider that he’s married or of a certain age. She just gets lost in the fantasy he has created. And then she loses touch with reality. She begins to think he is the answer to what she came to Lagos to look for.

Women like Tatiana are forced to go back to reality eventually. Because men like the Senator come into your life on a whim, and they leave just as fast. If Tatiana were more mature, she wouldn’t have swallowed his promises. 

You’ve mentioned her naivety twice. How important is it for young women like Tatiana to have healthy influences while navigating reproductive agency?

Madam Ngozi’s advice was very instrumental to Tatiana’s relationship with the Senator.  Even though she had no bad intentions and was telling Tatiana what she knew about survival. It was still questionable counsel. If you have a voice of reasoning at home and you are getting the basics of sex education, you will know when you have heard bad advice. So if you go out into the world and you run into people like Madam Ngozi, you have discernment.  Healthy influence really cannot be overemphasised, even for the boy child.  You cannot leave children to just grow up on their own. If you do, the streets will raise them for you. And if you let the streets raise your child, anything they raise, please take.  

The film handles Tatiana’s journey with a lot of nuance. How did working with Dika and Blessing Uzzi help bring this story alive?

I enjoyed my time working with them. I particularly loved the fact that Dika pays attention to the tiniest detail.  If you let him, he would count the grains of sand on the floor just to make sure that it aligns with his vision. It was also quite organised. The mood boards were on point, and there were alternatives to alternatives. We had teamwork and energy, and I absolutely loved that.

What do you think makes Tatiana and Ginika’s friendship so central to the story? 

All relationships have ups and downs. The craziest things happen between spouses, siblings, parents, and we all find it in our hearts to forgive. But people are very quick to throw away friendships. It’s not like that for these two girls, and I like that. Things happened the way that they did. The person who messed up took accountability, and they were able to navigate through it.  

I am someone who has benefited from good women throughout the course of my life. I’ve also seen that we don’t highlight the beautiful sides of female friendships enough. It would have hurt me if the film ended like a Cinderella story. The type where the main character ends up falling in love with somebody who rescues her. I love that it ended with two of them. At the end of the day, it’s Ginika and Tatiana against the world. 

What was it like developing that friendship chemistry with Ruby?

For me, it was instant, and it was easy.

Have you worked together in the past?

No, that was the first time, but it felt natural. She’s a lovable person, and she’s cute. Fine girls usually don’t have issues with each other. When I heard we were going to be working together, I said to myself, “Yay, they’re bringing a fine girl. We get to be cute on camera”. I was right; we had fun, and we had our small moments in between. I enjoyed working with her, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.

If Tatiana could speak directly to young women, what would she say?

Because man come, you forget wetin carry you come Lagos, you come lose focus. 

You should try to know who you are and be very satisfied with that. People should not be able to sway you so easily. If there’s a career path that you’re after and something comes to derail you along the line, always remember what your initial goal was. Never get lost in the sauce.


Next Read: ‘A Happy Ending’ Is A Real Woman’s Story: Dika Ofoma on Keeping Tatiana Alive

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Tobi Bakre On Exploring Real Masculinity In ‘Before We Fall Asleep’ /man/before-we-fall-asleep-tobi-bakre/ Wed, 05 Aug 2026 11:35:42 +0000 /?p=381868 We’ve seen Tobi Bakre take on several roles. But not one as dramatic and familiar as Tola in Before We Fall Asleep. Tola is loving, hardworking, and deeply devoted to his family. But when he loses his corporate job, the identity he has built around being the provider begins to fall apart. Suddenly, he has to confront a question many men never get around to asking. Who are you when you can no longer be the ‘man of the house’?

In this conversation, Tobi Bakre talks about playing a character defined by traditional masculinity. How he learned to empathise with him, and why partnership as a man is about more than money. 

How would you describe Tola in Before We Fall Asleep?

Tola is your average Nigerian good guy. He’s a great guy trying to make ends meet while figuring life out. 

You sound like he’s someone you would know.

Yeah. Partly because as a professional, you have to personalise and embody the character you’re playing. So, in seeing how the character played out through the story,  I can relate to him. Tola is a family guy and a hard worker. At the same time, he’s a genuine lover boy. And like every Nigerian youth, he’s trying to figure life out. Dealing with its challenges, the economy, etc.  I could tell that his problems were things that only time could help him learn how to handle. 

A lot of the time, when you’re handed a situation you’ve never experienced, you try to handle it based on things you’ve learnt. It may be from a certain background, ideology, or general outlook on life. Sometimes, what you know may not work. This guy has to deal with these problems with a partner in the picture. This partner also happens to be someone with a different background, ideology, and mindset.

Why was it important that audiences see Tola as a good man first? 

 I feel like that’s a question for the writers. But if I’m going to talk about it, I’ll say it’s just to show that a lot of people are not villains.  We often focus on the differences between men and women, and we rush to make one side the villain. Sometimes all that is needed is understanding and empathy. I’m not saying this applies in all cases because sometimes there are people who are villains. But in some cases, people are just being who they are. And they need to be understood or properly communicated with. 

Is there anything about Tola that you initially disagreed with but later came to understand?

When I read the story, the first thing that came to my mind was ‘this guy shouldn’t see some of these things as a big deal now’. But while I was on set and living in his world, I could understand why this was a problem for him. He’s educated and fairly progressive. But all the things he has internalized from childhood about being a man won’t just leave. He needs experiences to reshape them.

There are definitely moments that come across as selfish. On the first read of the script, it’s easy to want to judge those choices. But as an actor, I can’t judge the character I’m playing. My job is literally to understand his point of view.

How do you get audiences to empathise with a character whose choices they may disagree with? 

Drawing from my personal life, I don’t expect the world to understand everything I do. You can be the best person with the best intentions,  but some people will still be against you. Regardless of your intentions or your actions, you’re going to have people who will never try to understand you. I’ve dealt with that in my personal life. So I’m not bothered by having to play a character that people might not like. That’s why we’re doing this kind of project. We need to have these tough conversations where open-minded people can learn, and others can communicate their views.

I’d also say it’s interesting to play such characters. Even though your personal ideology influences how you perceive the character, it’s always surprising to see someone else’s take. You might learn a thing or two. 

What did playing Tola make you reconsider about masculinity? 

I’d say the traditional ‘man must provide’ culture. Back in the day, providing as a man meant giving your family financial security. But in this day and age, ‘provision’ has taken a different turn. In a case where you’re not able to provide financially, there are other ways you can give your family value or security. These days, you see fathers doing pickups and drop-offs from school. Traditionally, school runs used to be seen as the role of a mother. People are growing out of that mentality. We’re having partnerships between parents in terms of finance, taking care of the kids, and the household.  

We need to help people understand that they’re not wrong to have felt or to feel a certain way about masculinity. It’s based on how you were brought up. But don’t think that being a man stops at providing financially. In our community, self-worth is built mainly around financial success. Regardless, the modern man should not centre his masculinity around his finances. Self-worth should come from the quality of your person. That’s what I preach, and that’s what I also learned from playing Tola.

Are these things you struggled with in your personal life?

No, actually. Growing up, I’ve always been proactive when it comes to things that people perceive to be women’s duties. I don’t see gender when it comes to washing plates or changing diapers. What matters is whether it’s convenient for me to do it at the moment. If my wife is doing one thing, I can do this other thing. We’re not keeping score, and at every point, each person is putting in 100%. My hundred per cent might look different from hers on any given day. But the important thing is that we’re both giving what we can.  

We’re all individuals going through our own journey, and that is definitely going to factor into any relationship. What is important is to constantly find ways to be better and more supportive. That’s what makes a good relationship. 

What do you think this story adds to the conversation on gender norms?

It shows the mindset of men who are in that situation. Some men might beg to differ, or they might insist that they would act differently. But the conversation, I hope, would be at the centre: ‘What is ideal?’  

In the end, these things are subjective. What works for couple A might not necessarily work for couple B. What some people call unpaid labour is what some people want. I try not to put people in boxes. It’s more about identifying what works for you, finding a partner that aligns with your ideology and then making it work. Some women want to be housewives, while others want to be career women. To each his own. But there’s a way to make things work in a household where you have a career-driven couple. If all the things people typically argue about, like cooking or cleaning, can be outsourced, why does it become one person’s responsibility? 

What was the most difficult thing for you about playing Tola?

One thing the director did that I found interesting was that he told Onyinye and me to stand in front of each other and stare each other in the eyes for five minutes. We did this while the crew was in the background setting up for the day’s filming. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but it was new. It was also the first time I had been asked to do such a thing. As easy as it might sound, when you’re looking straight at a person like that, it feels very comical. You might laugh, but then you stop, and you’re still looking at this person’s face. What it translated to was that by the time we were on set, it was easy to look her in the eye. 

Oh, yeah. I also had to bathe a baby. I have two kids, so this wasn’t new for me. But it’s very different when it is someone else’s child. I know my way around a tiny human, but at the same time, I had to be extra extra careful. It also happened to be my first day on set, and it was the first thing we had to shoot. So it was like, ‘oh, wow, we’re really going to just get right into it’. I can’t wait to see what that scene looks like.

What do you hope men, in particular, take away from Tola’s journey? 

When you have a partner you love and respect, it might require doing things you don’t find pleasing. Every successful business, partnership, and relationship takes actual work. Going to the office isn’t the only thing you do. As long as it moves things forward in the household, you should be willing to do it. Also, as a man, your financial capacity and physical strength don’t define you. There are ways to express masculinity in a way that’s not choking. I hope more men choose that.


Next Read: Kaelo Iyizoba Explains Why Before We Fall Asleep Refuses to Pick Sides 

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Kaelo Iyizoba Explains Why Before We Fall Asleep Refuses to Pick Sides  /her/before-we-fall-asleep-kaelo-iyizoba/ Mon, 03 Aug 2026 12:44:29 +0000 /?p=381724 In addition to being an award-winning producer, director, and screenwriter, Kaelo Iyizoba is a self-proclaimed hater of love. Ironically, he has a remarkably nuanced understanding of love and relationships. 

This informs his role as director of Before We Fall Asleep.  The film follows Tola, a young father who loses his job and struggles to adapt to life as the primary caregiver while his partner becomes the family’s breadwinner. According to Kaelo, ‘This is a story about a couple who have expectations about what society expects their relationship to be’. ’But they are also learning that what society expects won’t always work for them,’ he adds.

How it started

Initially, Kaelo picked up the script because of Blessing Uzzi, the writer of Before We Fall Asleep and showrunner for the 91¿´ƬÍøվ Life Series productions. ‘I’ve been a fan of Blessing’s work for a while. I love the way she thinks. When I read this script,  I knew I had to make it with her,’ he says. But what cemented his interest was the film’s premise. Kaelo describes Before We Fall Asleep as ‘One of those films that would start a conversation. The kind that will split people down the middle’

From his first narrative film, , in which a teenage boy meets a girl on the bus who turns out to be a suicide bomber, to his more recent works. It’s easy to tell that he likes to confront difficult conversations. Before We Fall Asleep is no different. ‘I wanted to make the kind of film where the right choice isn’t clear. Each choice is heavily dependent on a different perspective, and neither choice is wrong per se,’ he says.

This is why he found himself wanting to direct Before We Fall Asleep, even though it appears to be romance at first glance. Interestingly, this is  Kaelo’s first time directing a film that he didn’t write. ‘When you write something, you are still attached to it as a writer. So, when it’s time to make some directorial decisions, which may mean taking something out, you’re less likely to do it. One thing creatives will tell you is that you have to kill your darlings. It was easier to kill the darlings here because I was serving as the director. My job was to make this work as a finished product, not as a script. 

The Details That Made the Difference 

While the media is filled with stories about falling in love and falling out of love, it rarely explores the ordinary domestic moments that make up most of a relationship. Before We Fall Asleep breaks that mold. Instead of cheating husbands and drunken fights, we see baby baths and burnt noodles. Kaelo takes what would ordinarily be considered boring, everyday life and makes these intimate moments worth watching.

To do this, every choice, from the cast to the lighting, was intentional. The film features an unlikely pairing with Tobi Bakare as Tola and Onyinye Odokoro as Nazo.  ‘I remember when Blessing first mentioned that she was thinking of casting Tobi, I was like, ‘ah, isn’t that the action star’? But then I met him; we had our first rehearsal, and I was blown away,’ Kaelo says. ‘We’ve seen him jump off bridges a lot, and it was equally amazing to see this side of him. During their final fight scene, Tobi and Onyinye completely threw out the script. They tapped into an almost spiritual mode, stepping so deeply into their roles that the characters took over entirely.

Kaelo wanted Tola and Nazo’s home life to feel like two Nigerians existing in this space where they aren’t together in a conventional way. But they’re with each other in every way that matters. 

Kaelo believes the representation of their partnership is important and central to the film. ‘There are different types of relationships, and it’s important to represent that in film. Most Nigerian films skip over unmarried, cohabiting couples, but this story puts them centre stage. At the same time, the audience will immediately recognise Nazo’s mother, who defends traditional expectations

These creative choices also extended to Nazo’s workplace.‘The workplace in the film reflects the reality of most workplaces in Nigeria, where there really is no support,’ Kaelo says. ‘I know a couple of companies now provide support for new mothers. But largely it’s still unheard of that you go to a place, and they have a daycare.’

The hardest challenge in directing a family-centred film came from one of the most essential members of the crew, the five-month-old baby who plays Feyisola. ‘We built all our schedules around the baby. All the plans we make go out the window whenever she has to take a nap. We have to be ready to act when she’s awake. And then we take a pause when she has to shower four times a day,’ he says. 

Why This Story Had to Be Told 

For some, the answer to the conflict in Before We Fall Asleep seems obvious:  hand Tola the broom and let Nazo carry the briefcase. To Kaelo, immediately picking a side defeats the point of the film. ‘When I first read the script, I was on team Nazo. I had to detach from my personal opinions to understand why Tola made the decisions that he did,’ he says. 

That detachment allowed him to direct a much better film because he could modulate Nazo’s character. It helped in making her feel like a real person with emotions. ‘As things got worse, I was careful in guiding her performance. She talks to Tola in a way that it is evident that she’s not blaming him or trying to make him seem like a villain’, he says. To Kaelo, there is no textbook version of a relationship. After watching the film, he hopes that the audience understands that compromise is all that matters. In his words, ‘If Tola still had a job, then their salaries would have allowed them to afford a nanny. Then there would have been no issues. An ideal relationship is whatever your relationship needs to be, and that decision is between you and your partner’. 


Next Read: Uzoamaka On Siraam: ‘Sex Isn’t A Dirty Topic, Stop Acting Like It Is’

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Uzoamaka On Siraam: ‘Sex Isn’t A Dirty Topic, Stop Acting Like It Is’ /her/uzoamaka-on-siraam-and-normalising-sex/ Mon, 27 Jul 2026 16:10:27 +0000 /?p=381376 These days, everybody talks about sex. On the surface, it seems like progress. Especially when compared to the silence and stigma that surrounded the topic decades ago. But look a little closer, and it becomes clear that our openness has limits. Conversations about casual sex, one-night stands, sexual kinks or favourite positions attract laughter and curiosity. But that reaction quickly becomes judgement when someone admits that they’ve contracted an STI or slept with a few people in one night.  

It’s this selective progressiveness that Uzoamaka challenges with Siraam. The film follows Siraam, a young woman who turns to casual sex after a painful breakup. But this story is about a lot more than just sex. 

‘Siraam is like a lot of us, if not all of us. She has sex, and sometimes she weaponises it. Sometimes she uses it as a coping mechanism when she’s heartbroken or as a way to search for herself. I never wanted the story to become something that invited judgment or made sex feel like a dirty topic. What I wanted was to explore the life of a complete human being. One where sex is just one part of everything else she’s dealing with.”

Like the other films in the 91¿´ƬÍøվ Life series, Siraam is inspired by a real-life story published on  91¿´ƬÍøվ’s Sex Life vertical. But what drew Uzoamaka to the story wasn’t the young woman’s sex life; it was her honesty.

Rather than treating her experiences as shocking or scandalous, she spoke about them realistically. That honesty is the foundation for Siraam’s character. 

‘I wanted to write a person in all her glory and all her messiness. Someone who is trying to succeed in her career and wants the person she loves to love her back. At the same time, she’s ignoring someone who’s in love with her and curious about the person messaging her on social media. She’s also determined to insist on ‘condom and commitment or nothing.’ There are always so many things happening in our lives at once. You might watch Siraam and think she’s chaotic, but aren’t we all?’

Uzoamaka speaks of Siraam in a familiar and nearly affectionate way. When asked why, she says Siraam’s life feels familiar to hers. Not necessarily the specific events, but the way Siraam experiences life. To Uzoamaka, Siraam is a complete human being. And that is how she observes her own life.

‘It’s not that extraordinary things are constantly happening. It’s that I notice the little things most people overlook. There’s a scene in the film where Siraam rushes out of the bathroom after hearing her friend knock, stubs her toe on a stool and pauses because it hurts. I’ve done that. Some writers might cut straight from the bathroom to opening the door because the toe-stubbing doesn’t move the plot. But life is full of interruptions like that.’

That attention to ordinary moments is a recurring theme throughout the film. Even the underwear Siraam wears says something about her. The film opens with Siraam sitting in front of a fan and drying a pair of multi-colored panties in front of it. While she’s waiting, she passes time by speaking into the fan and listening to her voice vibrate. Then she checks whether the underwear is dry, decides it’s good enough, and puts it on.

Siraam tells you who she is without having to say it. And because her character feels so familiar, your first instinct isn’t to judge her when the film broaches the subject of her sexual health. People are going to get pregnant and contract STIs whether society shames them for it or not. According to Uzoamaka, if the goal is to encourage people to take better care of their sexual health, then judgment isn’t the answer

‘The answer is normalising these experiences so people feel safe seeking help. That’s why, for example, when Siraam’s best friend sees her test result, it’s not a dramatic, catastrophic moment. Instead, her friend simply says, “It’s curable. Let’s move on”. Someone watching that scene might think, ‘Maybe I should get tested too.’ They might realise that if they do have an STI, it isn’t the end of the world’

Siraam is also relatable in the way she deals with heartbreak, and Uzoamaka is confident the audience will connect with this. 

‘There’s a scene where Siraam calls her love interest and another person answers the phone. I have a feeling that’s going to resonate with a lot of people. I don’t think many experiences are so personal that no one else has ever lived through them.’

Largely, Uzoamaka thinks people will connect with Siraam’s journey because she isn’t perfect. She makes mistakes, learns from them and keeps moving forward.

‘Imagine someone telling their friend they have an STI, and that friend doesn’t suddenly think they’re a terrible person? I hope young people see that they have the power to decide what kind of relationship they want to have. With their bodies and with themselves. I also hope Siraam inspires people to ask themselves who benefits in relationships where sex happens in ways that make them uncomfortable.’

Ultimately, she hopes Siraam makes conversations around sexual health feel ordinary. Ordinary enough that people are comfortable getting tested. Uzoamaka wants people seeking treatment without shame and walking into pharmacies to buy condoms without feeling like the world will end. Uzoamaka loves Siraam so much because she’s self-aware, chaotic, and deeply human, and she hopes you will too. 


Read Next: ‘You Need Some Whimsy to Get Through Life’ Genoveva Umeh on Her Role in Siraam

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Overthinkers Anonymous: EDK Is Not Here For Hot Takes /general/osato-edokpayi-overthinkers-anonymous/ Wed, 15 Jul 2026 14:57:43 +0000 /?p=380510 We’re nine episodes into , the weekly living room where we geek out about money, masculinity, relationships and everything in between. Osato “EDK” Edokpayi has been there from day one, bouncing hot dilemmas with co‑host Deji Osikoya and somehow making our collective confusion feel like group therapy with banter.

From years on the radio to podcasting, EDK has built a career out of talking through the wahala in people’s heads. In this episode, he breaks down the art of listening, adulting in Nigeria and why life’s messiest questions deserve more than one‑minute hot takes. 

What does being an overthinker mean to you? 

I think it’s beyond brooding over things that are bothering you, which is what people generally would say. For me, overthinking is staying with a problem until I find clarity or a path forward. It can look like brooding from the outside, but it’s usually how I work through things.

So, how would you describe Overthinkers Anonymous to someone who hasn’t seen an episode?

It’s a podcast about guys and women geeking out about everyday issues. Typically the types  that have  young people thinking, ‘What is going on in my life?’

On most podcasts, people just come to talk about things, but nobody’s really solving anything. When Overthinkers Anonymous was pitched to us, we were told dilemmas would be a part of it.  To be fair, that’s what a lot of podcasts have become. Dilemmas everywhere. Everybody loves a good dilemma, but we’re not using them for content or talking points. There are actually solutions in there. Listening to guests and my co-host, I realised I’d find these conversations genuinely useful if I were the one facing those dilemmas. 

How do you handle the feeling of responsibility that comes with discussing people’s real-life problems on a public forum?

The truth is, somebody on the other side of the screen is being vulnerable to strangers. They’ve gotten to a point in life where they see sharing their problems on a public platform as the only way out. You have to respect the vulnerability of the person sharing and the audience listening. The people engaging are spending time or, in our case, resources like data to engage. Those things are very valuable, especially for MTN users.

Is this your first time solving dilemmas for strangers?

Yes and no. I’m a radio host,  and I produce my radio shows. We have a dilemma segment on the show as well. I don’t typically have a co-host on my show, so I created an AI co-host. Then I took a step further and created a personality for the AI entity. She’s sassy, a bit snarky, and really hates me. But then she loves the listeners, and they love engaging her. One of the things that was a big hit with the AI co-host is that she answers dilemmas on air.

Wow

Of course, it’s the people on the team who feed her the answers, and we have to think quickly., But we also take care that the same principles apply here. The beauty of radio is that people share really intimate moments with you. People are in their bathrooms and sitting in their cars alone listening to you. They get really vulnerable very quickly. I’ve heard kids on their way to school talk about trouble with classmates, and adults share stories about friends who left the country without telling them. People obviously ask what’s wrong with the government. If it’s football season, people ask what’s going on with a particular team.  The AI co-host that we created always has an answer.

I never give the answers myself on air.  Even though, technically, it is me speaking through the AI co-host. She also sometimes shares thoughts that I wouldn’t want to say on air.

Why wouldn’t you want to say those things on air? Are you afraid of being dragged?

No, no. People know me for being funny and pleasant. But sometimes I just want to yab people. In a lighthearted way, of course. If you just heard me say something really nice and then the next moment you’re hearing me diss someone, there can be a bit of a dissonance.  On radio, we have co-hosts to prevent that. So everybody plays a part. My role is to drive the show and find all the things that will make Lagos rock for a few hours. Then this AI entity that we created comes in to cause trouble. 

Do you and your co-host on Overthinkers Anonymous also have some form of this dynamic?

To be fair, I don’t think we ever had that conversation. But I can understand the dynamic because of my training. This is Deji’s house, and it’s nice to come in occasionally to talk about life. Even though I’m always there when things are being sorted, it’s not my house. In terms of how a show like that would work, Deji has to drive the show, and I’m cool being the co-pilot.

Also, he has the best cold opens I’ve seen in a long time. I like the way we start the show. There’s never a ‘welcome to our show today’ and so on. It’s just ‘hey, I’ve rocked up to your house, bro, and e get this thing wey I dey think…’ Then we pick it up from there. Ultimately, it is a team effort. We need listeners to understand that it’s a show for them to come in and feel like they’re in that living room, having those conversations with us in real time. These are conversations they can have with their own friends. 

What kind of conversations do you want people to take from the show?

As I said, it’s important that people see themselves having these conversations. Look at everything we spoke about in this season, from why men don’t read to the role of money in relationships and family dynamics. We touched on addiction and many other things that are affecting a lot of young people today. I’m sure we’ve not even scratched the surface of everything we need to talk about. I have people sending me screenshots from some of their guys who watched the show. Some of them are saying things like ‘omo, it’s only 48 Laws of Power I’ve read o’ or  ‘so there are other books out there for me as well’. 

A couple of guys could see this and decide to challenge this thing where men don’t have book clubs.  They could make that happen. I mean, we get together and play ball; who says we can’t get together and discuss books?? 

What exactly does Overthinkers Anonymous do differently from other relationship and culture podcasts?

There are not a lot of shows that give you the experience of everyday people who are honest about their experiences. We’re not looking for virality.  So we don’t go into episodes looking for things that would blow up the internet. Certain people like to say outrageous things to provoke emotion.  On the radio, we call these people shock jocks. You see a lot of shock jocks on mainstream relationship and culture podcasts. There is a tendency to want to sensationalise things or play up a personality to appeal to extremes of people’s tastes. But what Overthinkers Anonymous has shown is that you can take the other path and still resonate with people. We can tell that people really like the personalities that they hear and see. Nobody is out here trying to be the most extreme version of themselves to get likes. The people you see on the couch act and talk like that in real life. 

 In what ways do you think men and women differ in the way that they overthink things?

I think the difference is in how they share what they’re thinking about. What I find interesting is that it takes a bit of time for men to share what they are thinking. You need to almost always create the right environment for it to happen. The right environment could be fish and beer or a PS5. But there needs to be a setup for it to happen. It’s very hard to hear men sharing what they are thinking unprovoked. They need to be eased into it.

Women, on the other hand, are very quick to open up. We could just be driving past Ozumba Mbadiwe, and everybody in the car would start to talk about what’s happening in their lives. 

What’s something you have stopped overthinking as you’ve gotten older?

 It is money o. I said it in the first episode; I just don’t overthink money anymore. Maybe because I’ve hung out in the northern part of the country and interacted with a lot of Muslims. I can’t help but think everything I have can be gone in a second. This whole rat race is a bit stressful, to be honest. If you wake up every day and you’re thinking of how you must make money, it becomes exhausting. I would rather think of ways I can add value and make an impact. It eventually leads to wealth creation anyway. Why not just do the things that lead to wealth creation instead of being obsessed with chasing wealth?  As I’ve gotten older, I realise that as long as I’m able to survive and be comfortable, I’m good. If I have a little extra for enjoyment, good.  Otherwise I’m okay.

Basically, life is short, buy ice cream and do what you love.

Exactly! Life is too short to be taken seriously.


Next Read: Deji Osikoya Wants To Inspire Vulnerability: One Living‑Room Conversation At A Time 

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Deji Osikoya Wants To Inspire Vulnerability: One Living‑Room Conversation At A Time  /general/deji-osikoya-overthinkers-anonymous/ Tue, 14 Jul 2026 15:39:20 +0000 /?p=380483 If you’ve spent enough time on the internet, you’ve probably heard Deji’s voice in a Coca-Cola commercial. If you haven’t, you might have heard him hyping up the crowd before a Fireboy concert. Or, more recently, hosting Overthinkers Anonymous, a weekly show that explores masculinity, relationships, money and the realities of modern adulthood.

In this article, he discusses vulnerability, dealing with online criticism, and why meaningful conversations between men matter now more than ever. 

Would you say that you are an overthinker?

One thousand per cent. Overthinking, to me, means cycling through a billion possible scenarios far longer than you need to before arriving at an answer. Or not always arriving at an answer. Sometimes it’s staying in one cycle of thinking until you’re exhausted, and then it forms an action. 

Is that why you wanted to be a part of Overthinkers Anonymous?

Funny enough, I don’t think the name came until after I joined the team. What initially drew me to it was the idea that the show was going to be centred on healthy conversations with men (and women). It aligned with stuff I already planned on doing. I’m passionate about improving the PR and behaviour of men. It’s not like I’m perfect, but I see that there are ways we’re dropping the ball. And we could definitely be doing better. This show is supposed to be a vehicle for that. 

How would you describe the show to someone who hasn’t seen an episode?

Overthinkers Anonymous is a conversation that happens in my living room. There’s a slight structure, but for the most part, everybody’s just allowed to bare their hearts on their sleeve. It’s men having conversations that we have every day in private or don’t have at all with themselves and with women.

My biggest pitch to anybody who would love to watch Overthinkers Anonymous is that if you’re a man, there is a likelihood that you will see yourself in some of the people who appear on the show. If you don’t, it will at least give you a fresh perspective on things that you haven’t considered before. I also think you’ll be met with softness. I’m a soft person. I like soft people, and I lead with softness to encourage people to be gentle.

What specific gap do you think the show would fill?

Hopefully, this doesn’t come across as an insult to anybody. I think we needed to create a space where we would be able to have conversations in good faith. We’re not trying to come across as experts speaking down on people and telling them to do better. 

Particularly because a lot of these conversations are hard for people to have. It is important to us that there is a level of vulnerability being displayed by the hosts. And I’m nothing if not vulnerable. I don’t think of it as just a means to get views. It feels more like a service. It was cathartic for me as well.

How? 

I am having a lot of conversations about things that I was dealing with in real time. There was an episode where we had Seye Bandele, and he was talking about the struggles of entrepreneurship and building a family with his wife. He spoke about ensuring that his wife trusted him enough to decide to get married to him. I was asking questions that I actually had, like ‘what does it take to get your partner to buy into an unrealised vision?’

I’m an entrepreneur, and I’m still very early in my career. So these were answers that I needed to hear. There were also things underneath the surface that the show was helping me to process. Nigeria is really tough, being a man is really tough and having conversations that help you to lean on other people makes it easier.

So, about marriage, should we be expecting to hear wedding bells soon?

Hahaha. I mean, if you’d like to hear wedding bells, I can play some on my phone. Wedding bells are not hard to get at all. 

How do you balance humour with sensitivity?

 To be honest with you, I don’t know if I do it consciously. I’m the kind of person who is very quick to make a joke out of a difficult subject. And if there’s something extra sensitive, I’m very careful about the way that it’s worded. I don’t want people to feel like they’re being interrogated or prodded for gist. 

At the end of the day, if there are things a guest doesn’t want to share, it’s well within their rights. My co-host, EDK, is the same way. He’s an emotionally intelligent guy who knows that you don’t go beyond certain aspects of a conversation. 

If you’re so intentional about vulnerability, how do you prepare for conversations that seem spontaneous?

Working with my producer, Anita Eboigbe, is very central to that. She helps with calling topics and developing the different discussions that we have. Outside of that, I try to deal with the material honestly.

When I speak, it’s from a genuinely curious place. I’m not just trying to tick off the bullet points on the list. I don’t hit all the notes exactly the way that they’re described in the brief because I do a lot of editing. If something super interesting comes up and it wasn’t initially part of my original plan, I allow it to flow naturally.

What made EDK the right person to co-host the show with?

Our chemistry and brotherhood comes from having conversation after conversation. The first time we ever met, it was over food, and we just kept gisting.  We realised that we got along, and the rest is history.

Did you have any doubts about how well the audience would receive the show? 

Several. One, I was nervous about just being perceived. As much as I do a lot of front-facing stuff, there’s never a guarantee of how people might receive you. Men, in particular, can be very interesting people.  Another thing I was nervous about was posturing like an expert.

There was a tweet where someone said, ‘Tell that brother to uncross his legs; nobody wants to take advice from a feminine Tupac. ’ I thought it was hilarious because the set of the show is my living room, and I’m obviously very comfortable. But the reason why it was even more interesting as feedback is that I don’t want it to feel like we’re giving advice. I’m not trained as a counsellor. The idea is that I’m a guy like you who’s just figuring it out or a friend giving you a listening ear. That way, it might be easier to accept.

Wow

I was also nervous about toxic masculinity. You always wonder if you’ll be able to break past all the different walls and actually touch something real within a man. It’s not always the easiest thing.  Also, it’s not something that you’ll always be able to do because a lot of men have put up so many defences.

How many of your doubts turned out to be true?

All of them. Some people are listening through the lenses of their insecurity, which I’ve seen with the money episode. Also, as I said, no one wants to take advice from a feminine Tupac. I’m grateful that I’ve done things that’ve made my skin thicker. The toxic masculinity aspect has definitely shown that people don’t look at things in context. They engage with the clip, they drop their mean comments, and they move on. 

However, there’s been so much positive feedback within that as well. The conversations that have resulted from our episodes and seeing the profiles of the guests on the show grow. I know that it’s actually helping people. A recurring comment we get is ‘Just when I was thinking about my life, this pops up. Thank you’. 

The show makes itself a space for the male perspective. How do you see these shifting, existing, harmful gender norms in Nigerian society?

To be honest, I don’t see the show being the vehicle for that by itself. This being the shift itself would be too ambitious a goal to set. I don’t think people change that easily. But I think it’s a significant start to the shift.

There’s a two-part quote that says, ‘I don’t know that I’m going to be the change, but I think that I will influence the person who will change’. I think that is us. 

Are there topics you are especially excited to tackle as the show continues?

Oh! We tackled the manosphere and the ways that masculinity is being projected to younger men. I would love to see how that plays with the audience. 

I’ve also been looking forward to talking about male friendship. I would love to dedicate an entire episode to male friendship and what it looks like. The ways that we can show up for each other. I’d also probably even like to have that conversation adjacent to women because I think there’s a strength in female friendships that we need to learn from. 


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6 Things To Know Before Becoming a Technical Writer, According to an Eight-Year Expert /her/6-things-to-know-before-becoming-a-technical-writer/ Tue, 07 Jul 2026 14:53:41 +0000 /?p=380089 When you unbox a new product, you probably don’t spend much time thinking about the person who wrote the user manual. You simply follow the instructions and expect everything to work. It’s easy to assume the people who built the product also wrote the guide. But behind every user manual and FAQ is a technical writer translating complex concepts into language anyone can understand.

Because they work behind the scenes, technical writers rarely get the recognition they deserve. As a result, technical writing remains one of the tech industry’s most underrated but rewarding career paths.

In a recent conversation with 91¿´ƬÍøվ, Cynthia Peters, a senior technical writer with eight years of experience, shared a practical guide to breaking into technical writing.

1. What a Technical Writer Does

Cynthia describes technical writers as people who make things easier for everybody else. Imagine contacting your bank with a problem and being directed to a help article. You then discover that everything is written in Korean. The information technically exists, but it is useless because the intended audience cannot understand it. Good technical writing is not simply about documenting information; it is about making that information useful and accessible to the average user. 

2. If the Company Uses a Computer, There’s a Good Chance That It Needs You.

Career opportunities for technical writers extend far beyond software companies. Any organisation that relies on complex processes needs a technical writer. Even if they have not realised it yet. Cynthia mentions that earlier this year, she received a job listing from a biscuit company. The role required her to document how its production machines are operated. Later in the year, an airline company in Qatar was in search of a technical writer. Technical writers are also needed in fields like medicine and engineering. “If a company uses IT,” she says, “there’s a chance they need a technical writer.”

3. AI Isn’t Stealing Your Job

One of the biggest misconceptions about technical writing is that artificial intelligence is replacing technical writers. But AI at its current stage of development can only work as a tool, just like your laptop or your Grammarly subscription. 

Yes, ChatGPT can write an API guide by reading software architecture documents. But it will not think of including a customer support contact for a user who cannot generate an API code. This is because it does not have user empathy in the way that human writers do. Technical writers think about where users could get confused and answer questions before they ask them. 

4. You Do Not Need an Engineering Degree 

For aspiring technical writers without a technical background, Cynthia advises focusing on gaining experience before chasing high salaries. She recommends starting with beginner programming books or even programming resources designed for children. Technical writers do not need to become expert software engineers.  However, they should understand enough technical concepts to communicate with the product developers. To sum up her experience, she says, “When I see a line of code, I might not know if it solves World War II, but I can tell when it’s repeating a command, and I know what a variable is.”

Her preferred learning method is simple but effective. Read a chapter from a beginner programming book, then close the material and write an article explaining what you remember. When you revisit that article you’ll notice the concepts you misunderstood or the questions you failed to ask. Cynthia encourages beginners to publish these articles on personal blogs or to create a portfolio. She stressed that building a portfolio matters far more than waiting until you feel like an expert.

5. Curiosity Killed the Cat, Not the Technical Writer 

The cheat code to becoming a good technical writer is to be curious about everything. After eight years in the industry, Cynthia has a digital file that she constantly updates with terms she needs to research. 

To keep improving, she advises focusing on improving three to five skills per week. Resources like the Google Technical Writing Course and the Microsoft Writing Style Guide will be useful to a beginner. Aspiring technical writers can also take advantage of free educational content from schools of technology. MIT and Harvard regularly upload learning resources online.

6. Transitioning isn’t Linear

Although she started her career in programming, Cynthia’s transition into technical writing happened almost by accident. She noticed that many of the questions she had as a newcomer to tech went unanswered. So, she began documenting what she learned. Soon, she became the de facto person for documentation.  By the end of her first few jobs, she was doing more technical writing than programming. Transitioning into technical writing isn’t always linear, and there’s no one-size-fits-all.

To determine if you want to commit, she recommends volunteering for open-source communities, startups or big companies looking for interns or junior technical writers. Her advice to anyone considering the field is very straightforward: ‘Just start writing. ’ Consistent practice, curiosity and a willingness to learn will eventually create opportunities.


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