#MoneyvsMe 17; A single mom who feared for her son’s future if he ever found out what she did to provide for him.
Every week, TNT wants to know how people move money in and out of their lives. Certain stories will be challenging,while others will be extravagant. It will always show something new to learn.
I was only 24 when my world turned upside down. Growing up in a small town in Southeastern Nigeria, I had dreams of becoming a nurse. I was the eldest of five children in a poor family, and from a young age, I understood the heavy weight of responsibility. My father was a petty trader, barely making ends meet, and my mother was a subsistence farmer. Education was a luxury, but I was determined to change the narrative. But life had other plans. In my second year at the local polytechnic, I met Chike. He was charming, attentive, and promised me the world. What began as a whirlwind romance quickly turned serious, and I found myself pregnant. In a society where single motherhood was heavily stigmatized, my life was about to take a drastic turn. Chike disappeared as soon as he learnt about the pregnancy, leaving me to face the consequences alone. Isn’t that wickedness?
My family, already struggling, couldn’t afford to support another mouth to feed. My education was cut short, and the dream of becoming a nurse faded away. After giving birth to my son, the desperation sets in. I found myself trapped in a cycle of poverty. I tried my hand at petty trading, selling fruits and vegetables at the market, but the income was barely enough to sustain me and my baby. The cost of living in the city where I moved to escape the judgement of my village was high, and I was constantly behind on rent and bills. It was during one of these dark days that I reconnected with some old friends from school.
They moved to the city, but unlike me, they were doing well. They wore expensive clothes, lived in nice apartments, and seemed to have a steady source of income. At first, I was envious, wondering how they managed to make ends meet in such a tough economy. One evening, after sharing my struggles with my friends, they made me an offer. They explained how they made their money: they were sex workers. I was shocked! They told me about the financial freedom they enjoyed and how they could take care of their families without worrying about the next meal. Initially, I was horrified, but the seed had been planted. Over the next few weeks, my financial situation worsened. My son was sick, and I couldn’t afford proper medical care. The rent was due, and my landlord was threatening to evict me. I was desperate. There were no job prospects, savings, or family to help me. I remembered my friends’ offer and realised I might have no other choice.
I made the decision one night when my son’s fever wouldn’t break, and the local clinic refused to treat him without payment upfront. The next day, I reached out to my friends and agreed to try their line of work. They took me under their wing, teaching me the ropes and introducing me to clients. At first, it was unbearable. The shame, the guilt, the fear—I felt them all. I hated myself for what I was doing, but every time I looked at my son, I reminded myself that it was for him. I couldn’t afford to let my pride stand in the way of his survival. Slowly, I started to make money—more than I ever could have imagined. The money was good, and for the first time in a long time, I could afford to pay rent on time, buy proper groceries, and even save a little. I moved my son to a better school and began to think that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.
However, the life I was living had both positive and negative aspects. By day, I was a doting mother, trying to give my son the best life possible. By night, I was someone else entirely, wearing a mask to hide the pain and shame I felt. My friends had told me I would get used to it, but I never did. Each night, each client felt like a new wound in my soul. I kept my new job a secret from everyone. My family back home believed I was working as a secretary in the city, and I let them believe that. I send money home regularly to support my younger siblings’ education, and in return, they praise me for being such a responsible daughter. Responsible indeed!
Despite the financial stability, my heart was heavy. I feared for my son’s future if he ever found out what I did to provide for him. I feared for my safety, knowing that my job came with risks beyond just social stigma. Yet, I couldn’t see a way out. One day, I had a close call that made me reconsider my life choices. A client became violent, and I barely escaped with my life. Shaken and bruised, I realised that this could not go on forever. I needed a way out before something worse happened. That incident was a wake-up call. I started looking for alternative ways to make a living. I began attending skills acquisition programs and saved every kobo I could. Eventually, I learnt how to make hair and decided to open a small salon. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Slowly, I began to transition out of sex work, taking fewer clients and focusing more on her new business.
Today, I am 28 years old. I still battle the scars of my past, but I am determined to build a better future for myself and my son. My salon is small, but it’s growing, and I started to gain regular customers. I also took up tailoring, hoping to diversify my income. My journey is far from over, but I am no longer the desperate young woman I once was. I am a survivor, a fighter, and a mother who will do anything to protect my child. The road ahead is uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, I feel a sense of hope. I dream of the day when I can leave her past behind completely and focus on the future I am working so hard to create. My story is one of resilience in the face of adversity, a testament to the lengths a mother will go to ensure her child’s survival. While my past may be marked by pain and regret, I am determined to write a new chapter—one of dignity, self-reliance, and hope.
