Aisha Safiyanu

I remember my former neighbor, Uncle Tunji’s wife, calling me Aisha. Mr. Fesh (I’ve spoken about him before. Government teacher before… ring any bell?), one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, Asha, Haisha, and any—sha their biologically blocked noses could pronounce.

Today, I saw an Instagram reel where a girl talked about developing her frontal lobe, being 30, and only liking her name as Khadija with an ‘h’ instead of the colloquial with a ‘t’.

I saw myself in her, a part of a future me. In a gym, being referred to as Aisha (not that I ever changed it), body goals and more. I am a few months to 25. Hopefully, when I get there, my major and minor biases make me better in every way, not just by name but by money and… intellect.

I shan’t be a dullard or an olodo in the baking. Money must be made, my brain must be caked.

Yane, babycita?

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Do I Want to Marry?

Aisha Safiyanu — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 04:14:16 GMT

No.

Maybe.

Why?

I wonder what it will be. The way I think of marriage immediately when I’m mad at home scares me. I have begun to think I’m male-centred, but if I was asked to bring someone and have the nikkah, I’d probably hitch a ride to my grandma’s mansion in Bauchi, where she finds me in her son’s old bedroom, drinking from a can of Peak condensed milk like I used to as a child (since I look five to those at home), and she offers me food before sending me on the next flight back with her famous cupcakes and some grandmotherly advice to not repeat this again.

Sometimes I think it’s because of my parents’ strictness. But what if I end up with a controlling maniac? That would mean I’ve sealed my fate. No breaking of cycles, just me and a thousand reasons to run mad.

I do not write this to advise parents. Who am I? Definitely not a parent, so I don’t think I’m licensed to advise them, even if wisdom is not by status or age or the other factors that Nigerians associate it with.

But I have realised I don’t want a marriage, but the freedom that I pray comes with mine. And I’m sure thousands of girls in my position ask for that tirelessly in their prayers.

Then I watched a video about a week ago about this lady who managed to go back to Kenya after being trafficked in Saudi Arabia, becoming a prostitute, getting pregnant twice and being scammed by the embassy. But that wasn’t the worst part. She had to trade her baby for her return back to her home country, but that wasn’t by choice.

It was around 10pm, maybe, that night that I began to think, but someone has it worse than me.

I just sit here typing about how I am not allowed to go out as much as I’d like or how it’s affected me socially, but that wasn’t only belittling my struggles. So I acknowledged both as two different things that weren’t equal but deserved their own level of attention.

Let’s come back to me.

Something happened some days ago and I was just embarrassed, but I laughed because, as usual, that’s all I could do.

A friend said she was travelling to her state for a coronation, and I went to spend the day with her since she’d be staying there for two weeks.

We went out in the evening and even stopped by Monoliza for boba and took a walk with her other friend. When we went to drop her off before heading home (since my friend and I lived in the same estate), this girl asked my friend, “ƙawan ki bata magana ne,” or was it directed to me? I can’t remember.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

But you know what I remember?

My friend laughing and saying, “That’s just how she is. She barely talks, she just laughs.”

Photo credit: Pinterest.

There and then, I began to notice the oddity in my interactions with people. I wasn’t embarrassed because of what she said but because it’s true.

Sometimes I don’t know what to say. Sometimes I’d rather laugh than have a group of people waiting for my answer, and somehow I’ve become a queen laughing at her jesters—not the best description—but you get it.

After that day, I realised being at home often stifled me. People younger than me stood at stages I wanted to mount on. They spoke like the building only stood for them, and there was me, shivering before she spoke despite being a master at all her crafts (although we are still learning).

Now, back to marriage.

A lot of times I think, after marriage, can I run a household and be a spoken-word artiste, work as a corporate woman without having to ask her clients to come to her house because her parents are scared, or be a book influencer with so many invites she can only go to one in six months?

I don’t want to babysit a man after cradling my family, battling the patriarchy that we were raised in, and now trying to manage my career without breaking down.

My situation alone causes burnout for me because I’m always thinking about the future that lets me explore the different facets of my life without a limit because of someone’s fear.

Truly, I’ve accepted that I will marry for love, but I can marry for convenience (and that doesn’t mean I will settle for less) and learn to love him, or just because I want the nice things that come with the kayan lefe.

But all that won’t give me happiness if I don’t choose right.

My prayer is that I won’t have to disappear for 24 hours before my parents realise I feel like I’m drowning in the image they created for me.

I won’t criticise them only. They have tried for me. They love me. But they also don’t realise what they’ve made me become.

If there’s anything I can win in this life, it’s the peace that comes with knowing there’s no leash tied to my waist.

If it was on one wrist, I know I’d be able to touch the stars, some of my dreams and then some.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Two meats and a pot

Aisha Safiyanu — Sat, 29 Aug 2026 02:12:20 GMT

I want to tell you about a time when I went to visit a friend. This tale is cautionary. Eat wisely, and don’t (for a second) think you’re special. Close or not, you’re just a friend and you’ll read why.

My mind remembers this as a random Wednesday afternoon, past 2pm maybe. The sun wasn’t so hot and the walk to the road wasn’t so bad. I’ve just gone out to see my friend. That day I was very broke, and nobody in my house could take me, so I hopped on one sexy napep that dropped me about a few meters away from the stairs of the flat.

The house was so quiet when I got there. Her aunt was at an event, probably. She was one hustler-ess of a businesswoman. My friend K ushered me to the kitchen. We talked for a bit and she said she’d just finished cooking lunch and that I should join her, to which I didn’t object.

She’s moving some plastics from the kitchen to the backyard or from the back into the kitchen, I’m not sure. I did help her finish the work.

Now, I beg you, before I say this; I just want to beg you not to laugh at me. I didn’t know better. I just thought I was at a good friend’s house to chill and then this happened. Omo, even shame as an atom of embarrassment was better than me in that moment.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

So K brings two plates and serves us some rice with some stew and says, “Feel free, eat.” I nod as I reach for the spoon. We’re just standing and eating by the counter and gisting, then I look down at the piece of beef she gave me and I think to myself, maybe I should just add one more to the one she gave me.

So we’re talking and I walk over to the pot of stew and she’s even walking out of the kitchen to the backyard. Then I open the pot and scoop out a piece of beef I’d come to regret taking.

I’ve dropped it on my plate now and she’s back and we’re talking. I see her eyes lower to the second piece of beef on my plate and she frowns as she continues eating her food, and although she doesn’t complain, I feel a small feeling of quiet unease seep through my chest and outward to cover me in a residual shame.

It’s not like there was only one meat in the pot. There was more, but I came to understand that it didn’t matter that they were just a three-person household. I’d just done something I shouldn’t have done. Maybe her crazy aunt would hound her for it. Maybe she’d refuse to help her with something. I don’t know. What I did was feel bad.

I suddenly wished I didn’t listen to her. I’m not blaming myself entirely because she said, “Feel free,” and I thought it extended to a bony piece of protein that’d made things awkward in the end.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

But after about thirty minutes, all was sort of forgotten and we were now in the living room, where I remained her therapist and I, the regretful meat taker.

If you take anything from this, let it be that unless it’s your house, there’s a limit to everything and you won’t see the thin line between someone making an offer you accept because it seems minuscule, but everything first blur and you don’t wear glasses, so my dear, prevention is better than viscine.

And I know some friends or siblings may have the kind of relationship where they can even cook without asking the person, but I fear that no matter how close we are, this just made me want to avoid any situation that could lead to this repeating itself.

At the end of the day, we’re all different people and I won’t lie and say I would be okay with someone doing that. The degree of our closeness is what determines your level of access. Feel free, but no loose guard, chairwoman.

Ok sai wani lokaci, subscribe if you want more slice-of-life story times about my not-so-quiet life.

By the way, I’ve finally published my book and I’m taking pre-orders. You might not have known because I haven’t posted my Sunday newsletters in a bit but if you’d like to get a copy send me a dm here before the pre-order payments close on Sunday.

So anyone who orders after is just getting a book no gifts. Toodles babycita.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (July’s First Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 04:51:24 GMT

Dear July, you are off to a bitter start. But, we will manage. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday my mums friend died, I did my chores and did a significant number of edits. My friend came and told me she’d be out so we can’t go for our evening walk. I began writing a piece which I’d not finish that day.

Tuesday my friend sent me food she cooked and I planned on visiting her but I saw she has visitors. I finished editing my book, anlhamdulillah. I slept off trying to finish going through my manuscript.

Wednesday I sent in my manuscript to my publisher. I found out I had to buy my ISBN which was a bit disappointing but it was me who didn’t understand the initial explanation. I contacted the national library, called the head in Lagos and she told me to sort it in Abuja because they’d still send my application to the Abuja office.

I had dinner late then watched an episode of Come dine with me: South Africa. I’d missed the show.In the evening, I went for my walk with my friend and her in-law.

I finished watching FROM season 4 and the ending just made me more sad than annoyed for Fatima. Later in the night, I watched a movie titled Blind to love and the couple were arguing I imagined arguing with my husband and his mouth was smelling. What is wrong with me?

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Thursday I did chores and sent my manuscript again. My publisher wanted some corrections so I decided to begin as I watched a show. During our evening walk, we stopped so my friend could buy an Airtel sim at a plaza then went to another smaller plaza to braid her hair where it began to rain while we were there.

It was then I noticed the difference between us. There were no restrictions, no twenty minutes interval reminders to return home. For once marriage was entering my eye and it was not entirely for the right reasons. I watched a Nollywood movie titled Finding Nina till 02:00am. I think they tried but they should’ve just used Arewa actors so the communication is smooth. Other than that it was cinematic and all but still uniform to the Nollywood style of storytelling in an Arewa setting.

Friday I was home all day doing nothing but some chores. A neigbour came and my mum wasn’t around so we had to visit her after our malam left. I and my mum went after magribh. She had a daughter whom I’d grown to like her personality. We enjoyed books but she had an even busier schedule than I did. She is a doctor.

Her older brother came in and I found myself feeling funny inside when I looked at him. Turns out he was married and I immediately felt bad for even looking at him with any attraction in my mind. He was sha fine.

Saturday i slept in went out with a friend to tulip skincare and stopped at frosty pops after then 4U supermarket and then a salon close to our house to get her lashes done.

Sunday I spent it watching the polygamist and stopping to pray and do kitchen work in between and by 03:00 something I managed to reach episode 19.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was a little boring.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: not having a Jonasi in my life, my publisher and cover designer.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (June’s Fourth Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 04:19:59 GMT

Dear June, if we don’t have booming business soon they might have to sell Nigeria with us in it. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday, my sister began her internship. I was so happy for her but knowing her, she preferred things easy and fast. She returned to complain about how her colleagues are stressing her out when people would do anything to work there let alone a paid internship. I went for my evening walk with my friend and didn’t do much after.

Tuesday I went to the market with my friend and we didn’t go for our evening walk because we returned home late. I missed islamiyya in the process. I edited my book more later. I also got my book cover but had to revise some things with her.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday at 1am my sister gave me milk power biscuit like the previous night. I ate it while editing and listening to music. I was so mad because my mum said I had to switch duties with my sister because she goes for her internship work. I didn’t get special treatment because I had other obligations. I always had to work around them or forfeit them.

Thursday I did chores and sent my manuscript out. My publisher wanted some corrections so I decided to begin as I watched a show and later at 2am when I finished washing plates when I should’ve done them early, my cat kept crying till my sister took him downstairs with her. I went for my evening run too. Just thought to mention it.

Friday my mum travelled and I spent the day stressed out. I went to Sahad stores with my friend and saw an old school mate from secondary school. I came back with my sister around six and after praying magribh I went to buy treats at Vetlane with my dad and when I returned I prepared his dinner then I took hours to make mine because I was making my brothers own and I ate around 1am and slept around 2.

Saturday I woke up later than my sister but she’d surprisingly cleaned the kitchen so well and when I got down my dad wasn’t around. He’s taken the last born for his exam. He’s getting closer to finishing his junior NECO. the man who washes for us came.

God please give my mum a vision on where to install the washing machine so we can use it. Anyways I took out my dirty laundry and gave my sister then she packed my mums clothes too then took them downstairs. To cut the story short everyone took their clothes except the third born. I woke him up and he said “can’t you just take it for me?” The audacity right? I left him with his dirty laundry. Maybe when my dad is taking his own to the laundry man he can tag along but he will learn his lesson.

Sunday I woke up and prayed then went back to sleep. My friend sent me milk cake and I had it with my siblings and mum. I edited my book a bit and spoke to friends. I read more of the book I’m reviewing and ended the night with reading Quran and more editing.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was cold. Rain wants to finish us kpa! I hope I used it right, I’ve been on TikTok too much, lol.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: The rain because it’s better than the wicked heat of march, Ruqayyah for her generosity and Allah for bringing my mum back safely from her travel.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (June’s third Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 03:27:18 GMT

Dear June, some nights I wish all I didn’t think about was you. Late nights in the middle of rain, AEDC’s cruelty and ether endless call to get your PVC. I have mine, if you don’t have yours, sorry. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday, I went to the market to braid my hair and came home to sleep because I slept late editing on Sunday night. That has been my MO for weeks now. And I’m not editing videos but my book titled Aaliyah to the world.

Tuesday, I called back a client I was to call on Monday then visited a friend and client too. We went for an evening walk and just talked about life which was nice.

Wednesday I went to pick up my sister from school. It was her last day there. We stopped at Vetlane for cat treats then came home and I went for my evening walk then for the second night in a row I sat down to watch Sanura, a Swahili series with no translation but because I like the vibes I remain seated.

At a point I started creating my own translations to make the story correlate with my own mind. My grandma came in the morning while I was cooking. She dropped off a bag of onions, saw my mum and left.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Thursday I spent the day doing some chores and editing my book some more. My siblings went to see my grandma when my mum took her food. I posted for my client too as part of my days work.

Friday I edited to a significant amount of chapters. I went for my evening walk with my friend. I also some chapters of Love, Lust & Shege then slept late. Again.

Saturday I edited a bit more then slept and woke up around 9am to edit. Your girl was trying to lock in. Then I slept after till 11 before I showered and went downstairs. I took my cat to the vet. I’ll edit the vlog maybe next week so you guys see what happened.

Sunday I woke up late. And twice. The guy who cleans came again. Yesterday he washed, today he cleaned the house and so I left my room when he wanted to mop and I went to edit at my parents room and when he was done I came back, edited a bit, slept and woke up two hours before I had to go out with my friend. We went to magicland and it was so much fun. I got on a new ride and did it again despite how dizzy I was.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week started off boring but the stakes got higher by the end of it.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: My friend Ruqayyah for making me try new things and be brave, my sister for finally returning home. Now I don’t have to be overwhelmed with chores. Then, the weekend for giving me more peace than I anticipated.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Life, you fickle bastard!

Aisha Safiyanu — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 02:25:31 GMT

I don’t know when, but the news got to me today.

Dear Aunty H. I didn’t know you well enough, but I knew you. I was in the shower when I got the news. Because of my brother’s incessant knocking, I had to step out and listen.

When he said, “There’s bad news,” from the other side of my room door, I was scared. What could be wrong, I thought. I definitely didn’t think it was news of death he brought me.

“Ok?”

“Aunty H is dead.”

“What?”

Just to be sure I heard right.

“Aunty H is dead.”

“Oh my God.”

“Mummy called from the market to tell us.”

I wanted to think about how my mother felt in that moment and having to call her husband to tell him.

Let me tell you, I cried. I cried through my shower for like a minute, now confused why I did because she wasn’t my friend. But I knew her, right?

I’ve never known how to digest death. I’ve never lost someone immediate—only once, and when he died, a part of me disappeared. He was my favorite uncle. It’s how quiet some of my world has gone without him, something chipped away in me the night his death was announced. I forced myself to cry, and the tears came. Afterwards, I slept because it was exhausting trying to process grief in the way I thought everyone was supposed to. The next morning, I went back to being that JSS2/3 girl. I almost forgot.

Shortly afterwards, I went back to continue my shower, my heavy legs pushing my heavy body and heavy heart into the bathroom where, for a second, I blanked out. Then I began speaking to myself as if I were a second person there.

She was such a nice lady.
But am I just saying it because she just passed?
Now I feel like a fraud.
No—

This was a woman whom I’d say was a close friend of hers. They’d known each other since secondary school. If I see the pictures of them in hostel wear smiling or in the kitchen cooking, I wonder what my mother sees. Have tears blurred her eyes, or is she just sitting in a stall thinking about why they ever used to fight?

Photo credit: Pinterest.

For the life of me, I can’t tell you why they were always fighting, but she was the type to show up at your house many times after you refused to see her the first time to talk it out.

I saw her at a wedding with her beautiful smile. She tugged at my mum’s veil like a child, cracking jokes and refusing to let her leave, even though the event was likely coming to an end. She wouldn’t let go until my mum said she was over the issue. A third lady apologized to both of them on behalf of the other, and then they talked for a while before we had to leave.

Only a few months ago, and now she’s gone. My mum is hurt, but she feels peace because they’d reconciled before her demise. But I knew, deep down, she was only holding it together so no one would see her cry. By evening, she was strung up on the three-seater in the living room, bawling her eyes out.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

People spoke to my mum over the phone as though they were offering condolences to a member of Aunty H’s family. I didn’t want to admit it, but a part of me found it all too performative. Some of the very people speaking that way had once been jealous of how close the two of them were.

I have to be honest, I was going through emotions. Empathy, because I had met this woman. Nonchalance, because where she reached out, my mum seemed distant. Anger, because it was after her death you realized you cared too.

To this day, I couldn’t tell you why every few Eke Market months they were beefing, and somehow everyone believed her and my mum were the closest of friends.

They’d fight, and she’d be the first to break. Know that sometimes my mum’s anger was justified, and I’m not about to talk bad about a dead person who matters to us, but there were times she repeated an action and I’d wonder, why didn’t you just cut her off? But like sisters, they bickered, and this woman would show up weeks later, and my mum would tell us to say she was out, and sometimes she actually went out. But be for real, if it was you, how many times would you come before you said, I’m done with this friendship?

As I tried to put my thoughts to screen, my brain kept scrambling because I couldn’t pick up on my slow irritation. I could hear chewing noises beside me, and they’re the ones I hate. Where you hear the sucking of bone and the crunch we can’t help but do when eating stronger things.

I typed about the woman who smiled like she’d never felt pain. At the wedding we saw her, she tugged at my mum’s veil like a child, cracking jokes and refusing to let her leave.

Now she lies in a faraway land—of course I can’t divulge too much—but she will have to rest on foreign soil, it being too expensive to bring her back to her home country.

When you reach the end of this piece, if you can, please pray for her and the family she left behind. She deserved so much. I know what it felt like being the funny friend who smiled a lot so everyone assumed they were stupid, and I’d like to believe she did too.

We will meet you at the graveyard, as every soul shall taste death and some spiritual reckoning. I pray you’re able to answer your questions, your grave expands, and your soul is at peace.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (June’s Second Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 01:25:28 GMT

Letters to Nobody (June’s Second Letter)

This week lately & later.

Dear June, some nights I wish all I thought about was you. Late nights in the middle of rain, AEDC’s cruelty and other endless problems are what keep me awake but go get your PVC. I have mine, if you don’t have yours, sorry. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday I snoozed my alarm more times than I should’ve so I’d be able to sleep more only to be worked up a while later. I cooked and cleaned and didn’t even get to do as much editing for my book as I’d have wanted. I eventually started feeling dizzy. When my parents left after lunch to pick my brother from school I started watching a Nigerian movie although I was feeling sleepy but it seemed interesting so I stayed awake until they returned. I managed to run upstairs later to read a friends manuscript he sent so I’d give my opinion while it rained heavily. It was interesting so in about an hour or a little longer I gave him my thoughts on his story which was quite interesting.

Tuesday I woke up around 11am. I had to chores as usual then spent the day editing my book, had an ice cream break and felt guilty then spent the evening watching daɗin kowa with my parents where in this episode the ones who came to the boka for help asked him for money. I couldn’t stop laughing because of the irony. If he had he wouldn’t be collecting yours.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday I had two meetings and spent most of the day and night editing, talking to some friends too.

Thursday I spent the day doing some chores and editing my book too. From this point on everything was just so repetitive and boring.

Friday my mum went to the hospital with my grandma and it seems she’s getting better. I happily told my brother Andrew Tate had been arrested from a post I saw on TikTok. They’d gone out for dinner and had terrible rice at this restaurant and came home with no food so I had left over rice with fried eggs and yam then I fried ram meat and marinated from scratch. After I washed dishes. Then spent the night editing and watching Bridgerton season 4 until dawn. Big mistake.

Saturday I replaced my sheets for them to be washed and took out my clothes to where we were to leave the clothes for laundry then I went back to bed. Best decision I made for myself that day.

I snoozed my alarm so many times again lie the other day and woke up 11am then showered 12 and came down 1. I still slept at 3pm and woke up 5pm. I washed dishes, scolded my brother for being lazy then Prayedprayed. My mum asked me to pick the clothes that had dried but only two pillow cases and a jallabiya were dried up so I took them inside to continue editing.

Sunday I woke up early. Fed my cat, spoke to a friend then went downstairs. I had breakfast of masa and miyan taushe then began to clean the kitchen while simultaneously cooking rice for lunch and then I fried plantain and went upstairs. My period started later in the day. I loosened my mums hair and did some work. Read till 1:36am and created some content.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was a dish well washed.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: my body for surviving, whatever motivated me to stay active in this dead chapter and rain, for coming so we can all sleep all day.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (June’s First Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 01:03:25 GMT

Dear May, you are killing my feet. Don’t let me forget, this week it’s my brothers birthday. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

On Monday I didn’t do much. I spent the day other m doing chores, then I made dinner for my dad. I had a terrible headache and just wanted to sleep. I was in a lazy headspace here. No morning walks, no nothing. Just excuses and self pity that amounted to nothing.

Tuesday I was pissed that I forgot my sister was using my bank because I wanted do create a Moniepoint business account for my agency. Later, I went to the market with my mom to cut her wrappers and resize my sister’s skirt and change mine to a longer one.

Then I came up and stayed on my phone then went on an errand for my mum. When I returned, I prayed then showered and went down to washed dishes and then had rice from lunch for dinner with beef and fried ram meat then I washed the dishes and later went upstairs.

I created some content and read Quran before I went to bed.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday I did chores, at this point I just wake up post for my clients and sleep for hours then more chores and I read a bit of Love, Lust & Shege then began making plans for my book. I did nafilah and slept.

Thursday I woke up around 5 to pray and decided I’d go back to working out today. I made some posts in the early hours of dawn and I was excited with the engagement on my page and I’ve been on a roll ever since. Editing my manuscript too. I showered after praying asr and editing mybook then went downstairs and washed dishes and made dinner of semo then tried to get back to editing but decided to edit a reel.

Friday my mum had to take my grandmother to the hospital and so I was the mother of the house not assistant of the mother of the house: as I was woken up early I was sleepy throughout so after making lunch I carried my cat Amir and we went upstairs to sleep. By 4 my alarm woke me up for a meeting with my client. For some reason it was that moment my data in my mifi chose to betray me. I had to go to my brothers room for his hotspot to buy data and then returned to the meeting. Thankfully she is understanding and we ended up having an amazing consultation.

I washed the dishes when my dad went to pick up my mom and grandma so that when she returns she won’t say I went to my room when there were dishes to wash but I ended up watching dinner cook and making tea for my dad before he slept and I got to go upstairs after.

I deleted my edited manuscript because I was pissed about a mistake I made and couldn’t find so I had to restart at 1am with a clear head and less mental bulk.

Saturday the house was cleaned more than usual because my mums friend was meant to come. For some reason we do more when visitors are coming. Why are we trying so hard to impress them? I and my parents went to Vetlane and bought some treats and went back for food and more treats because Amir ate them all.

Sunday my mums friend came and gifted us chickens. Her daughters were nice and it was really good to see that they’re all skilled with something. I could see their mother’s pride and she encouraged me to continue doing what I was doing after asking about my endeavors.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was just chore filled.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: my mothers friend, my brother even if I can’t remember what he did and Instagram for presenting me with the opportunity of a lifetime.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (May’s Fifth Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Sun, 28 Jun 2026 00:19:04 GMT

Dear May, I need a new hobby. Whether it’s gym or the bends of my neighborhood, let me be serious about my fitness this month. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday my dad travelled because he lost his half sister. When I woke up he was already leaving so I never saw his departure. I sat down for about 8 hours to get braided with wool after my mum then my sister did hers. In the evening we dropped the hairdresser at the place where she can get a car to go home and bought bread for breakfast then I created content I had to delete and I can’t even remember why.

When we got back I put the flu candy I got for my dad in a part of the tv stand he keeps all his files and chargers then I had suya for dinner like everyone else. I then wrote parts of some my Substack Sunday newsletter before calling it a day.

Tuesday I was woken up by my mum yelling. Me that came down first she’s still shouting. I don’t know who vexed her but she wanted to have everything done before my dad returned so he could eat what was prepared for lunch time. My dad came back shortly after I and my brother had just returned from an errand.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

My brother drove me to the pharmacy to buy some drinks and water. When I got back I had to join my mum to knead chin chin dough and fry it for hours until my mum went out and my sister joined to help. It rained after. My family friend came and took his mums package and I went to sleep but ended up posting for my client then had dinner and I fed the ram, met a neigbour who helped because I was too scared. Each time I tried to drop the basin of food one of them would rise up as if they were going to hit me with their heads.

After the kitchen chores I went to the market with my sister and returned late, tired and hungrier than a lion. There hadn’t been light throughout because of the rain for 24 hours.

(tmi ahead, skip if you don’t want to read. It’s been a while though, so why not ehn fine girls and fine boys? Haha)

In the afternoon, I decided to take a short bathroom break to perform ablution then suddenly felt the need to use the toilet and after that proceeded to clean off my buttocks with very hot water by mistake. All I could do was cover my mouth to not scream out loud.

Wednesday is Eid. My mum is crashing out about I and my sister waking up late but I’m more pissed that she asked me to stay home when I could’ve gone to the mosque with the boys. Later I go outside to watch the men as she requested to watch the men.

It felt like I spent 30 years in 24 hours. My mum had just returned from some market runs with my dad that morning and saw the men cutting the meat of the ram had taken a portion for themselves which they claimed she’d given them and my mum crashed out again and it wasn’t funny.

The men complained “it’s 20k you’re shouting on top.” When my mum had gone in and I wand my sister were to take the large basin of meat to the backyard. It was a long long day I don’t want to recall.

Thursday, I did minimal chores, then called my aunt and close friend for eid greetings in the morning, a continuation of what I’d began the previous day. I took out sand we’d bought for my cat so it could dry for his use, cooked rice for lunch and put incense on. Took a while but I got up to do some transitions before then my sister did my make up.

Friday we were meant to have visitors. My mums bestie and her family. We were rushed to bathe early after chores and be ready but she had visitors and couldn’t come. I received a pr package from an author then filmed an unboxing before I slept. I struggled with sleep to do my night duas as woke up a while later to finish off at 2am. It began to rain and they even took light but it was brought back shortly and we all slept happily ever after with Amir the biting cat. My sister went out that afternoon while I sent out meat and regretted it.

So a friend asked me to send meat to them which I’ve never done but I said “sure, you can send a rider to pick or I will”. I was planning on going out on one of the days and the chores were making me so busy so I wasn’t sure when I’d send but I ended up getting it to them possibly a day or two after the conversation.

Now I’ve done my part and send the fried meat out right? Tell me why I’m being called a few hours later from an unknown number who’s left several missed calls?! I answer and he says the person didn’t pay them. I was gobsmacked.

I looked at my phone screen and sighed then I said “send me your account details “ but deep down I was irritated. It was only 3k but the most considerate thing to do is offer to pay for your dispatch. I hate to pay delivery fee for my own items and now I had to do this… you can imagine what was going on in my head. After that I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to do that for anytime again.

Saturday was a boring day. I just did chores, turned on more incense after my sister already did then my sisters friend and her older brother came. I went to my parents room and flicked open page one of Lust, Love & Shege by April Ifunanya C. Izundu.

I went to a cafe with a friend on Sunday. My mum rage baited me and it almost worked so well I could’ve chosen to stay at home out of anger but I rose above it. She got there and was lost so we found it together. My mum asked us to enter into the car as my brother looked around for the signboard till she saw it. We had fun and agreed to do this again.

Not go to hidden cafes but nice places for friendship dates. I planned to start going to the gym and resume my evening walk for the whatever-th time. My aunt and her husband came to pay condolences to my dad and my sister was dropped off at school. I’d returned just in time so I was able to drop her off with my dad.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was … full.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: life, meat and silly little pains in my buttocks.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

The kind of sexism I like.

Aisha Safiyanu — Sat, 13 Jun 2026 19:39:07 GMT

Sometimes I agree with a feminist who says we’re not angry enough. You might be wondering why I’m not saying ‘us’ feminists. It’s because I’m still on the womanist side. You can’t force someone to join a movement and call them a ‘fool’ if they refuse.

I guess me and 99 others just don’t get it. But this is not what this post is about. I am angry, and here’s how it started: I have a brother who can’t clean up for himself.

Now that sounds small, shouldn’t even be an issue, but the problem is that he didn’t understand where I was coming from despite communicating, and he had the GUTS to argue about it.

The audacity.

So here I was trying to wash dishes and he’s trying to make Coco Pops, then our mum calls out to him to bring her a banana or two and he picks them up, opens the peel and washes the fruit itself before taking it to her.

As he dragged the peel down, a few slices fell to the ground and you can imagine my horror when he uses his foot to kick it onto a leather bag near a corner of the kitchen, because the main bin is left in the backyard.

Wow, Ronalpeelio.

My irritation doesn’t allow me to be silent. I’ve observed this before and know the outcome. He’ll go about his day without caring about how his actions impacted the situation of that kitchen.

Leaving items there could rot away, smell, or worse; bring flies from outside which will cause an unhygienic environmental reaction.

This is just the basis. Food. The living area. Visitors. All important things to consider, but no, I who didn’t do anything, is left with the burden of creating a solution. Not just because I’m the sister, but because I’m also the first-born daughter.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

“Open the bag and put the peel inside.”

“It’s inside already.”

I exhaled and began to do my breathing exercises because I was about to lose my cool.

“Do it.”

He only adjusts it a bit and starts saying the other peel isn’t his.

“So me that washes everyone’s dishes here, now what’s wrong with that?”

“That’s why we tell you thank you even if…”

This was where I lost it and surprisingly didn’t yell as the old me would have.

So they tell me thank you even if they don’t have to, like it’s my job to clean up after everyone. That was what pained me the most.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

In all this, he had the mind to add that it’s our mum who asks me to wash the dishes, and when she doesn’t but I do it anyways, what does that make me?

My mum is chasing them every week to fold the heap of clothes in their room, but I’m the problem for not putting up my praying mat where it’s supposed to be in my room.

These are the times I find myself fantasizing about slapping somebody back into senses they refused to acknowledge. I want you to see your ancestors reject you so you come back to life and live with a woman who’s not a slave. Let her heels crush your spine. I want her words to leave you defeated.

For now, I do it because it’s my family, but I don’t want a man if it comes with all this pressure as I’ve done it now and don’t want to do it later. I’m still unsure about kids, but if I had any in the future, this disparity would either die or be a lesson to them all. Girl or boy.

I’m not violent, ever. But it takes a kind of effort to get a woman to this point, and it’s effortless for the boys and men alike. The glass could be half full for a woman and she’d be expected to give hers to a man. You’re raised to be patient in marriage. “Aure zaman hakuri ne,” but that patience is never extended to yourself.

Forever used, never the user. This changes your psyche. Invisible strings control your every movement. You must do even when you don’t have to.

At this point I’ve lost the plot. But you see, my problem is not taking accountability and messing up my space. After I was done with the dishes, he came with his mug and soaked it. You saw no other plates, why didn’t you just wash your items and put them back?

These tiny iniquities sound like noise, but when you add them up you get a man child with heavy expectations on a woman when he himself can’t do anything himself.

I was outraged when I saw a Zikoko post and the men said when they moved they couldn’t find their things, but the wives have memorized what is in what boxes and in my head I’m like: why don’t you know too?

I understand there are certain things that happen in marriage, but really why didn’t you also know?

So much for being the head of a family. Yet she does inventory of the children, her own life, the house, and you. What do you do aside from bringing food to the table? And if I do that too, what’s left for us?

Abeg if you’re finding love make sure it’s not just romance because when love dies, you might die too. Literally or figuratively, babycita.

Selfish is man, them no send your papa.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (May’s Fourth Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 18:06:58 GMT

Dear May, you are killing my feet more. My mental health isn’t alive either. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday I cried so much because I paid 200k for light. I intended to pay 25k for the electricity then use the 200k for another thing my dad asked me to do. I don’t know how, but for a split second, my hand erased 25,000 and added 200,000. Instantly I turned off the WiFi but for once, the network was ready to do something because it’s not what I wanted.

I tried to see it was reversed and when I couldn’t I just told my parents and in that moment I wasn’t even worried because the 200k was meant for me but their reaction was what made me sad. The “are you thinking of something else”, “maybe you need to be checked”.

I felt like a circus case and I left to the kitchen to cry and when I was done my dad replaced the money. Of course I’d apologized earlier even if it was my loss. I don’t know what good it did though.

That same day, an old friend of my parents came dashed me money just before I broke my fast.

On Tuesday I spent it waiting for the problem to be rectified by OPay and I wanted to go to the MTN office because I was tired of my Airtel data wahala but never did. I cleaned the kitchen afterwards and had the day to myself.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday, this guy who made nets for our windows came back because they were coming off and then we asked him to make a stand for my mirror that we’d gotten that morning but from his answers we knew he didn’t want to do it and wasn’t calling back with his price evaluation.

Thursday has us at the MTN office where I got my eSIM although my brother couldn’t. We ended up in Banex for him to update his software and saw there was a low budget MTN office branch opposite the plaza so we crossed the road. After much confusion, he decided to just buy a physical sim.

My parents had picked up my brother from school so they picked us up to all go home. On the way back they bought roasted corn and pear. For someone who initially said no, I’d found myself eating it in the kitchen with a frown as if I was forced which was so stupid. I was just trying to understand why anyone wouldn’t just have it boiled.

They’d taken light that night. After falling asleep, I woke up some time before dusk and I think the heat triggered my blood pressure as it rained heavily and I continued to read Matar colonel: the sex therapist before I slept again.

Friday afternoon my sister returned. We ordered shawarma bread and proceeded to de-bone the chicken for the wrap in the evening and because we skipped dinner we made ramen for our brother and boiled potatoes and egg sauce for us.

Saturday i was meant to go for an open mic but my dad gave me a speech about scarcity creating value. Know that this is an event I don’t even know anyone at.

I spent the day mad and in the evening we went to buy wool with our mum so the hairdresser can come to make our hair on Sunday. We started a movie titled end of the wicked which we never finished until the next day but it’s about this coven with a lady who’s name is Lady Destroyer who’s messing up her children’s lives and using her grand children to cause chaos for everyone.

Sunday, I didn’t do much. Just read, tried to complete my entry for Letters to Nobody and did some chores so my sister won’t say I made her do chores on my duty day.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was a walk to network freedom.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: MTN being the able network I can trust, my sister for coming home and cooking random stuff with me, my client for not going crazy on me.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

I was crushing on a bandit.

Aisha Safiyanu — Mon, 25 May 2026 23:18:38 GMT

The first time I saw him was during my brother’s naming ceremony preparation. In my family, everyone arrives days before and helps with the cooking and cleaning and then there was us, the children of the house, going to school and returning to play with our cousins like we lived a double life.

That initial day is always when everyone is weird. All the cousins you haven’t seen in years but have nothing to say to even though there’s a lot to catch up on. So the girls first broke the ice somewhere in the middle of errands and the boys (my brothers and male cousins) did too. Then they wanted to hang out with us but we didn’t want that, so we ditched them to do our own thing.

This was the night before my brother’s naming ceremony, the last born if you may. The house was bustling with a bipolar spirit. The backyard was scattered with giant pots the size of baby elephants, women chattering about a hundred things, sweat and labour uniting our relatives and strangers over a toothless baby and his garb.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Inside the front gate were people seated, even the doorway wasn’t left out. Some rested there whispering about God knows what, happy guests trooping in and out. The home had become a market of sorts, like a special bazaar for family and their friends.

Everything started in the night. My cousin Firdausi first tried to manipulate me into telling my mum I wanted her to stay the night (but that’s a story for another day). Then my other cousin, whom I looked up to then (I honestly don’t know why), was asking me about school, what I wanted to do when I grew up and so on.

It was such a sweet and easy conversation. I didn’t feel guarded or nervous. We talked for hours until my mum came to take me to her room to sleep. My cousin talked about her wedding happening soon and how I was invited then I spilled my secret: I liked Ibrahim.

Note, I didn’t know he was her younger brother then. I just knew he was my cousin. I’ll admit they had the same big eyes we all seem to have and shared some similarities too. Truth is, I just didn’t keep up with my older cousins then. A few years later, I realized our age gap was actually small.

I told her about how I saw him that night leaving the house for the mosque or something and she listened with a few nods to show she was listening in the dark room where some other aunts and cousins slept.

My mouth refused to close. Shaaaaa, the tap goes.

“He is so fine.”

“He didn’t even look at me.”

“He seems rude though.”

Story of a man who “know knows his value”, as the other men say.

Soon, I left.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

I think my mum heard our conversation. Of course, when she asked what we discussed, I said we talked about school which wasn’t a lie, but I omitted the rest so my mum wouldn’t yell at me.

My heart was beating hard in that darkness. I think it added to my anxiety because I could still see her frown. She wasn’t convinced. Come to think of it, why was everyone’s room light off?

Anyways, as I lay down to sleep, something stirred in my belly. It was a mix of fear, confusion and maybe regret.

I should’ve just kept quiet.

Fast forward.

One day, his mother’s Nokia torchlight phone settings got messed up and she dialed his number. As she explained the problem he couldn’t seem to solve, she told him, “Let me just ask Aisha,” and his response almost shocked me but I ended up laughing.

He said, “What does she even know? She doesn’t know anything. She can’t help.”

(Can’t remember exact word. Something along the lines of this)

I don’t think she realized I could hear them. She didn’t really say much before they hung up. I didn’t offer to help her because I think she agreed with her son. I can’t remember how it got fixed but I know it had nothing to do with me.

Mind you, this was coming from someone who didn’t even finish school. He really was audacious.

Then I heard about the onions, the phones and the prison. I realized I’d fallen for a numbskull who possibly had kleptomania and coconut head.

He wasn’t poor financially, maybe vitamin B deficient with acquaintances wielding machetes sharper than his brain.

Last I heard, he’d sold the motorcycle his mum bought him and still, he was roaming the streets of Dass jumping from one problem to another.

He is the troubled water that might drown him and his mother AKA part-time handler and enabler.

It is a fun memory until I remember who he’s become, then I pray for him.

As my parents would say, do a kind gesture not because of someone’s bad character, basically ignore it, but because you want to do it and because it’s a good thing.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (May’s Third Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Mon, 18 May 2026 07:26:25 GMT

P.S: this is a long one xx.

Dear May, you are killing my feet. Airtel is playing some manipulative game and I’m so done. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday I was meant to go for my morning run but I slept in because I had to go to the market to mommy hair with my mum. On Sunday we’d taken my sister together hers done so she could resume that evening.

Once my mum was done with her hair she went into the market and did some shopping for the house. When I opened my wool that I’d bought earlier I was so excited because I thought I was getting braids until this lady kept tying in knots like she was trying to tie my destiny.

Although she said to tell her if it’s too tight I felt it’d get weak early if I do so which now I’m paying for it. As she did the ‘thread’ style I watched from afar as this girl was getting her braids and I felt a sting of something in my heart. Maybe, jealousy.

Funny enough, people stopped to compliment my hair and ask the braided how much she’d do it for them and the kids. Getting the hair done, although it took about 4 hours (like the twists my mum pressured me to loosen; story for another day), my problems began in the night when I wanted to sleep and it was too tight and uncomfortable.

Before I left the market a girl gets hit by a dispatch rider and the man nonchalantly waves dismissively at the girl and muttering an unserious sorry but the boys around grabbed him and it’s the fear of getting hurt by them that forced him to take her to a nearby pharmacy.

The braiders around me were complaining and saying things like “you hit a woman and think you can leave” while I sat there getting my hair done with a minimal reaction I felt embarrassed for even if no one else noticed.

A part of me was just so exhausted and my I had other things on my mind even if I cared for the lady’s safety. But again, yelling wouldn’t have added anything but tension. But I’m disgusted by the man. If he wasn’t crowded by other men he wouldn’t have felt the need to take accountability of his behavior.

I didn’t go for my morning run again on Tuesday . At this point I felt like I was being set up. You talk about my weight gain but when it’s time for my morning walk I’m expected to be in the kitchen and sometimes I sleep in because I was too tired from chores the previous night.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday was filled with chores and was so stressful. I had to manage clients and scheduling posts. I also spent the night watching Emily in Paris and I felt happier than usual. Now I have two more comfort shows: Emily in Paris and Forever which I’m excited for the future release of season 2.

On thursday, the worst thing happened. My phone crashed. I had errands to run with my dad and it involved important documents on my phone but luckily I’d sent him the most important which I was able to print.

Outside the cyber cafe there was Sam, a phone repair man I’ve known for a while now. I gave him my phone and he said it was my software upgrade that caused the freezing of my screen.

My dad is skeptical so in Hausa he says “kar ko bari a hannun su” basically don’t leave your phone with them. Since some years back one of his repair guys replaced his screen with a low quality one he’s been shouting “my iPad from Switzerland” and I’d laugh but I understand the pain. He gave it to me a few years after he bought it newly and I had to get a screen guard to protect it.

From there, we got home 1pm. Since 9am when we went out. I’d like to tell you about my diarrhea problem but that was the least of my problems that day. Sigh, my period also came (probably from the stress). I took a bolt to new Banex after and got my phones software upgraded but it was wiped and as I waited I was feeling pain thinking about all the memories saved with cat Amir.

I want to make more memories now but I’m stuck cleaning his poop in the same corner of my room because he doesn’t like the sand I’ve given him.

Anyways, I was stranded outside because my sim card wasn’t working. My network lines were gone. I couldn’t download the bolt app I needed to get home. So here I was seated under the canopy of Airtel workers who do the upgrade I needed for the sim but because my NIN was missing and it wasn’t in my photos, I had to go home.

They stared at me as if I was a kidnapper. I felt a bit uncomfortable but I had no choice but to kindly ask one of them (the lady) for her phone to order a bolt ride home but she pretends to not hear me and asks for my address. I also didn’t trust her but I needed to get home so I gave her.

Immediately my network returned and told her to stop. Shortly, the driver I ordered came and I was home.

Like every Friday, I’m supposed to meet with this client and his team but he was busy so we all couldn’t have the meeting. I’d also gotten back to reading Matar General: The Sex Therapist and I am enjoying the book so much.

My cat vomited in the evening and I felt so bad for him. But wait, my brother was there with my dad then they both came. My brother came to announce but my dad has to start the speech with: you know you’re his second mother…

I knew where this was going—something had happened but because it involves cleaning up it’s all my responsibility. They want only the cute moments. Nice one.

My mums friend came and brought eggs as a gift for my mum. She came with her son who might’ve caught me staring at his arms last weekend when we all had to visit my grandma. May Allah grant her shifa.

Saturday was just there. I didn’t go anywhere but I did my chores and right after I went to watch more Emily in Paris then stumbled onto to TikTok where I watched 18 out of 21 episodes of a series where this man survived his trip to Libya.

It was incredibly sad and I was so interested in everything he had to say. Unfortunately I fell asleep and finished everything the next day down to the full video on YouTube.

Sunday had me up early and I was very much irritated as usual because weekends are my favorite days to sleep in. There I was being lectured in the kitchen about why boys shouldn’t be cooking so I angrily made eggs for my brothers because I was forced to when they could’ve asked me politely and then I cleaned up the kitchen.

The neighbors cat came to my backyard crying and I took her into my home. When Amir saw her he began to hide and grow puffy so I took her out and dropped her by her owners doorstep.

I felt bad for her and was ready to adopt her. She was pregnant and very strong. She didn’t flinch when my cat seemed ready to attack her. She stood her ground and hissed back. It was funny until it wasn’t and I didn’t want bloodied cats in my living room.

Amir didn’t let me sleep in the night. He kept crying. Now I felt like another of five who wasn’t able to feed her kids but in this case I fed him, gave him extra and changed his water. What is he lacking?!

He begins to scratch his sand. It’s not separating so I shake the litter box and the sand breaks just enough for him to try and poop but no, waited till my parents were out for sahoor downstairs with my siblings then cried more so I let him out.

To cut the longest story short, he pooped outside my door at 4am and after cleaning I went down a rabbit hole watching more TikTok’s about those in Libya hustling and the few who made it to Italy. They’ve got stories for days.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was 4 leg days, 3 weird encounters, 2 reasons why I should be a better business owner and 1 story that touched my soul.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: Not falling for Airtel’s gaslighting (they gave us free airtime in the MTN office as if they knew we were on enemy territory), my reading slump leaving and the survival of George Emmanuel (he may not know me but I wish him all the best).

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (May’s Second Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Fri, 15 May 2026 22:17:06 GMT

Dear May, you’ve show me the most bipolar weather so far. In Nigeria, it’s either the hot or cold season; pick a side. Even Angela Valdez chose Ghost in the end. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

On Monday I finally got the energy to go for my first morning walk in ages. I woke up 6 something, brushed my teeth and by 7am I was downstairs wearing my shoes.

Whilst I was on my maybe fourth run a man stops me and he seems so scared to speak but he asks if I’m married and he asks for my number. I gave him and went on with my walk. You will hear more about him soon.

Tuesday i went again for my morning walk at the same time but it seems I miscalculated is the time I was finishing I didn’t get the number of steps I wanted like the previous day which was 12k. With my 8k I was still proud, even stopped at the gym close to my estate and took their phone number.

I texted them on WhatsApp and by 2pm I’d gotten no reply so I call them and a lady picks up and says she knows nothing about a gym so I hang up.

Wednesday I went out again although my body hurt and I did about 8k+ steps again. Later that afternoon, I told my dad I wanted to go back to Islamiyya then we stopped at where my dad gets his caps washed to pick up after liking my brother up.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

I cooked yam for dinner and simultaneously posted on the clients pages I decided to take on personally, slept off texting with my friend and woke up 4am to plug my phone. Then again my mum me woke up around 7 something to order her arthritis balm at 6am. I just prayed she doesn’t get scammed with my dad.

My new friend called that night and I didn’t answer because I didn’t know who it was. We talked but I never answered his call till a few weeks later although we still texted.

Thursday I was more angry than I usually am in the morning. After placing their Beevana cream order despite trying to read them the bad reviews I decided to pray and go back to sleep. This was the beginning of my fitness downfall. I know why I didn’t go for my morning walk today. I’d traded my run for sleep to do it in the evening which I didn’t end up doing.

It came in the afternoon while my mom was in the hospital with my grandmother and the tube was so tiny it could fit in someone’s mouth. I don’t want to say I told them so but they didn’t listen when I was reading out the review to them. They said it’s about it’s effect and I think they don’t want to admit it doesn’t work.

But then my mum and crashing my plans are like Tom & Jerry, whatever they want to do must happen. She called me from upstairs and I answered thinking she needed help with her arthritis stuff so I bide my time getting out of bed and finally wearing my hijab to go downstairs and then she says I have four pots to wash.

When I say leave it in the kitchen I’ll wash it the day it was cooked in they’ll take it to the backyard. When I crash out I’m still in the wrong. Haewwww.

I hate seeing them pile up. It’s now the day I want to use and rest from my morning walk she offered me four stainless steel abominations with stinky water best for sacrifice but the devil might reject it and send it back to to the innocent sender.

I did chores until 2pm when I had prayed, watched a Hausa movie then slept.

Friday I had a team meeting but we didn’t go. I’m just here. My sister also came home for her exeat weekend. My mum gave me a lecture about trusting men since the news about the girl whose nudes were released close to her wedding wants to kill herself.

By now the scandals of the cheating husbands and this sex tape have circulated and I was just tired of hearing about it because it’s affecting the wrong people and the media continues to push the news.

Saturday, around 12am I was bored on my bed and decided to use my Temu wax and it was crazy. Legs in the air, lips pursed to avoid screaming even if it was so painful I thought I’d loose skin and still, I had to use more than three because they came in tiny squares. Imagine the feeling.

Sunday, I was meant to go for a book club meeting but they cancelled and I was so happy to not be the one to have cancelled but by Monday I felt bad because it was one of the community members birthday and we missed an opportunity to celebrate him. Oh well.

My mums close friend came with her daughters and grand daughters and spent the afternoon with us. This was a visit I dreaded but it went well surprisingly. Even with the speech our mums gave us about trusting men.

Later in the day, we went to check on my grandma with my mum and another of her close friends and her son who drove us. As expected she told us to find partners before leaving. I was just glad she looked better compared to the day she visited us a while back.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was rough.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: my grandma looking healthier, my mum and her friend for caring and well, my businesses growth albeit small.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letters to Nobody (May’s First Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Fri, 15 May 2026 21:37:15 GMT

Dear May, welcome. Don’t let me forget, this week it’s my brothers birthday. Also, my sisters. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

This week, I also can’t remember. I don’t have dementia. I just lost some data on my phone. It was another thing to deal with but I’ll tell you that we cooked and surprised my sister at her school with a cake from Gogzee on Wednesday which was her birthday.

We’d cooked some food and taken it to her. Then she collected it with her friends and went back since she was meant to be at the hostel then.

Before that we’d picked up my brother from school and after that we went home.

(re-edited to what I think happened this week)

On Monday I finally got the energy to go for my first morning walk in ages. I woke up 6 something, brushed my teeth and by 7am I was downstairs wearing my shoes.

I texted them on WhatsApp and by 2pm I’d gotten no reply so I call them and a lady picks up and says she knows nothing about a gym so I hang up.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

On Friday was my brothers birthday and so he was surprised with a cake. I remember he didn’t want to take pictures but my mum insisted and we only took pictures of his hands holding the cake so my mum could post on her WhatsApp status. Mothers, I know right.

I had a meeting with a client and his team. It was low stakes and fun because he is also a friend. It was at Coffee Bar with the most amazing ambience. I left immediately we were done and didn’t realize I was so tired till I was in the bolt car.

Something crazy happened; I didn’t know that I’d inserted my old home address so I had to change addresses halfway to the other destination so I had to pay extra. The man didn’t even care when I said I had no money. What if I didn’t?!

I mean, I’m not his family member or girlfriend but can’t you pity somebody? I was pained. Ah, Nigerians!

We also had visitors. For some reason some of my mums friends keep visiting and it’s exhausting when they stay for hours. My mum took some of my perfumes to gift them since she didn’t know what to give them as they were leaving but they were four and she only liked two scents so she gave me back.

Which I was happy about. I have decided to just remind her next time she’s at the market to buy a bag of random items she can gift out to her guests when they’re leaving. Because, why are my things the items being given out?

My Temu order came this week and I was excited until I saw the broken mirror and asked to return so they gave me a refund after sending the proof of the damaged good.

I also got to create so much content and was having fun. I don’t know how or why but I hope the new energy stays with me.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was exciting… a bit.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: my Temu order arriving on time, the kind neighbor who’s always sweet to me and my online friends who just support my work.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Letter to Nobody (April’s Fourth Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Fri, 15 May 2026 20:58:49 GMT

Dear April, there was a lot I was meant to share this week that I can’t. It hurts that I have no recollection of this week (future Aisha writing). Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

How do I write what my brain seems to have wiped most of? I do not know how to share what I feel about this but I will put this filler because it bothers me and I care but life… life has become too fast for me.

If you come across this, please take care of yourself. I’ve been neglecting myself and focusing on others. I pray Allah makes things easy for me and even easier for my readers.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was…

Still, I’m thankful for three things: whatever bad that didn’t happen, whatever good that happened and those who contributed to it.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

To be a living matriarch.

Aisha Safiyanu — Wed, 06 May 2026 17:24:48 GMT

It’s only the beginning of the week but two scenarios have got me thinking: what if the world was solely a matriarchy? Men with a poor representation of women in your head—on a straight line, out of here. If you just support women without understanding the fight or the cause feel free to go but I believe you can be saved.

Now, Monday (or Tuesday, not sure when between the two), I went out for my regular morning walk and I notice two elderly women engrossed in a conversation and walking without even turning to look at me. They’d already seen me when they got on the path as well. But here’s the part that kept me thinking about it over and over again: I had on black pants, a hoodie albeit blue and my hands deep in the pockets of it.

It was as if they trusted me without even knowing who I was. Now imagine I was a man: they’d have turned so many times till they were no longer in the same path as him.

Today further proved my point. It’s Wednesday morning now. I’m out for my morning walk again. Maybe 2,500 steps in and I see a man walking on the same path as me but he’s coming from the opposite direction. I notice him smiling a bit and looking at me. His hands moved a bit as if he was going to raise his hand and as soon as he neared me, my body tensed.

It didn’t matter that it was an open road. Shame or consequences is not in some people’s vocabulary. If, for some reason (God forbid), it was meant to be an assault encounter then it would’ve been because I wasn’t careful or wasn’t covered enough.

I can’t fight to save myself but I was ready to scream to the detriment of my throat and even deliver a few one-two-three combo and swell up an eye or remove one tooth for a street fighter two-point mark.

The man didn’t even approach me. He just shifted and continued going to his destination. After narrating another incident that equally happened on the same day to a friend, she advised I buy pepper spray to which I agreed but I guess I was also just extremely alert but what do you understand from this?

Am I just overreacting or is there some emblem of something truthful or accurate in my trepidation?

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

I think about our president and compare her to a country like Namibia where there is a female president who by God’s grace considers women in whatever she does.

I might contradict myself but I unfortunately do not see that with Nigeria now—except with the next generation. The Gen Z with poor work ethic and a fire for disrespect will shift a system with their levity.

If you have to ask me why, then you haven’t read about Senator Natasha, the devil of Godswill Akpabio and the court of her fellow chamber women who denied her and what little support we could render even if we could not challenge a policy that tilts the judgment in her favour.

Oh to be a woman, in Nigeria.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

To have the guts to stand chest to chest with a man, not bat an eye when a woman defends him and spits on you is a power that makes her almost untouchable. Unfortunately it doesn’t shield you from the wrath of misogyny.

It’s either be a strong matriarch or be eaten by men and the constituency of pick me’s in their row. I will not rest my case here but for now, we halt—dangerous men far worse than dangerous waters lie ahead.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (April’s Third Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 00:28:17 GMT

Dear April, you’ve been kind to me so far. Don’t let me forget, this week I have high expectations. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday I was meant to go to the ministry of education but because we were moving a lot of things out of the house and well, first born duties. As my parents go out like batman and robin, I had to cook for my siblings as we all monitored the workers taking things out or throwing stuff away.

Tuesday I got to go to ministry although there was more packing. I went out 7am and returned around 4pm or 5pm, prayed and had lunch before taking out my clothes from the wardrobe to fold into our bags and as expected my sister began to use her phone and my mum decided I should do it instead of waiting for her to do it. What bs—just imagine this with the skull emoji.

Before that, the guy who was with my documents that was meant to handle everything for me at the ministry made me hate him for 24 hours. Now it has reduced to serious irritation, remain small I’d push his face to the floor and drag his teeth along the tarred road by the ministry of health.

When I was about to leave this man kept saying he loves me and that he knows I love him too. Even had the gall to show me his pictures on his phone. Here’s how the conversation went (don’t remember exactly, so…):

*brings his phone close to my face*

“Look at your boy.”

“Hm, have they called you for the remita?”

*he frowns and sighs*

“No.”

“Ok.”

*I get bored and start looking around*

“You know I love you, I don’t have money but I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t love you, I love myself. Love yourself too.”

“No, me I love you.”

*I try so hard to control my disgust as I reply*

“Better love yourself, I don’t love you.”

*He gets up to check the remita receipt and returns shortly*

“It’s not ready.”

“Ok.”

*I go back to texting on my phone*

“Come to my place.”

This man is if desperation and lack of boundaries made a child.

*I continue texting, at this point a girl has disengaged but he continues*

“Let’s have a date. I live in express road. Come to my house then we take bike to anywhere you want. I love you.”

Will I chop love Mr man? Geddi—

“I don’t love you and I am not going to your house.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please come.”

“I’ve heard.”

And the man shuts up. I just book my bolt and leave without answering his final question about where my house is. Bro wants to come and eat sallah meat during Eid-ul-Adha. He’s bonkers!

By nightfall, half our things had been packaged and ready to be taken out. My parents and a driver took multiple trips until it was late and they agreed to continue tomorrow.

As I walked up and down the staircase, I’d run my hands along the wall trying to feel something for the final night in that house but I felt nothing, just a little funny because it looked like I was in a movie having an internal dialogue.

And when I went to sleep that night on my mattress, since the bed frame had been removed days ago, I stared round the hot room in silence as I felt the sleep gradually overtake me.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

The wardrobes were empty except for a dress, veil and underwear for the next morning. When I woke up the next morning it still didn’t feel final until when I saw the workers taking out the television and the remaining mattresses.

Wednesday was when we moved out of my childhood home. I did my ABC’s and 123’s, had my first nose bleeds, lost many teeth, doing mathematics assignments that made me question why I was even in school.

My period, the first buttocks whooping I got, and all the happy, sad moments combined. All that was on my mind as the day progressed was how sick I felt from the period pain. I got sick with malaria and had to get medicine that night.

Since the rooms had been locked up because of the bed bug spray I and my siblings slept in the living room that night. I would wake up shivering and as soon as I turned off the AC I’d feel so hot I’d put it back on. I didn’t get better till 4am then I stayed up to have breakfast and take my medicine.

Thursday I felt a bit better but my period was draining me. We had to continue arranging our items and for some reason I was the one that there was more expectations on so if I was seen walking a bit slower or frowning it was a problem.

Friday I went back to the ministry with my dad. After picking Muhammad from school we headed to Amigo (4U supermarket) for meat pie and slushy and I saw an old schoolmate from secondary school who was so sweet.

Also, there’s this furniture company that was to bring my parents furniture set but not they’d not bring it until weeks from then and with subsequent calls and pressure from my parents. They’d bring bed frame and leave the mattress until days later and after those days, the rest came bit by bit.

I’d name call but it’s fine. I spent the midnight checking Temu because my sister said that’s when they lower prices. I slept off when I got tired. I did place my order and pay with the prices I met.

Saturday, a braider was meant to come to the house. She didn’t in the end and we spent the day working and cleaning since she said until the next day.

Sunday I cleaned my room after dropping my sister off at school, having dinner and then I created content before taking a hot shower and sleeping. I put Turaren wuta again, trying to get the room to hold the scent by the crisp whiteness of its walls.

So,

Sub-nobody’s, what crazy thing happened to you this week? If it was peaceful, I’m a little jelly but tell me still. I want to feel those feelings too. This week was torture.

Still, I’m thankful for three things: the new house that Allah has given us. My father for his many efforts. NYSC for giving me more options.

See you next weekend, hopefully a few billion Naira’s richer and less of a stranger to you.

Yours every weekend,

Nobody but Aisha Safiyanu and

the never ending chronicles of her life

to her dear weekend buddies.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.

Letters to Nobody (April’s Second Letter)

Aisha Safiyanu — Mon, 13 Apr 2026 07:35:18 GMT

Dear April, you’ve been kind to me so far. Don’t let me forget, this week I have high expectations. From myself o, I’m not waiting for Prince Charming to save me. We better save ourselves before we marry. Anyways… don’t be cruel either. I just want to make money; sometimes I’m just broke, but the good, better droppings from the Almighty keep me alive and going.

Monday I was supposed to braid my hair but surprisingly another hairdresser came. Apparently my mum got tired of seeing my hair so she called the Nigérien lady who used to braid my hair when I was a child to do it since the woman I spoke to didn’t call me when she was done with who she was braiding. I guess the 1k I wanted to give her wasn’t worth her time. It’s me and my natural hair against the world babycita. I later washed dishes for my lazy sister and I told her she has to wash on my day to balance things because I need to give her some consequences or she’ll just ride off having everything being done for her and she won’t care about who does it as long as her hands and legs are in one place.

11p, Tuesday, Amir got lost and the family went crazy. We went out searching around the area for him and to my surprise, I see my mother in her big people sweater and wrapper (because she’s petite, she looked like a baby in the outfit), searching for him. My dad too.

I and my sister heard cats screeching in the neighbours backyard and we all rushed (more like, ran. I carried my legs one-two like I was in the Olympics. Only that people in my weight class can only go so far within some distances but I made it in time to convene with everyone there.

My mum didn’t think twice. She knocked and the son of the old lady living there opens the backyard for us. Before he got the key, I already saw Amir but he’d retreated into the woman’s garden.

The sounds already helped us ascertain that it was a serious dispute and in retrospect, we now understand he was in another cats territory but the feline ran away so he fought well. I’m glad we didn’t cut his nails this week.

Alhamdulillah, he’s fine but I was so heartbroken to pick him up in the state he was in. If he was bald, maybe he’d be sweating but you see, he had his tongue out and was panting—could be shock or fear—oga has never fought before not to talk of wandering into another persons house.

It took about 15 mins to calm him down and it was a few days later we noticed the other cat struck a small part of his skin but it was healing. Moral of this story; if you’re an indoor cat owner keep a watchful eye on your children to avoid stories that depress us.

My ex tells me he’s leaving to Kano. Not sure if he’s never coming back but he wanted us to go out but I was busy so now he wants to stop by and briefly see me but my schedule has been busy so we never got to meet. Well, I wish him a safe trip. Before you judge haha, aren’t y’all friends with even one ex?

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Wednesday we go with a cleaning company to our house and they assess the layout and proceeded to get some new ACs and gas cooker and washing machine. In the evening, I cut my hands trying to cut spinach for soup. It was a stressful evening because I felt like this week was just punishing me with all kinds of problems.

That night, the ceo of the cleaning company texts me after being offline the whole day and I just knew she was here to increase the price when we’d agreed on something else, making our visit to the house pointless because we never came to an agreement. I inquired about fumigation and post renovation cleaning. After hearing your price I tell you “let’s leave the fumigation for now and do deep cleaning.” But no, she kept adding price of fumigation even after I told her our budget.

Aunty cleaning company, rora!

Thursday, I and my parents with my sister were up early. We were meant to get me a bookshelf yesterday but we rescheduled to the next day which Wednesday afternoon we stopped at Jevinik to get takeout and go home after my parents had their pounded yam at the restaurant. They told me stories of their early relationship days and what it was like back then to court someone.

Friday I went with my parents and sister to this wood market to get me a bookshelf but my mum saw her friend and they started gisting so I and my sister went back to the car and as she joined us in the car my dad drove out then we convinced him to take us to get a mirror in Jabi and my mum haggled with him to slash it from 120k to 65k. Which was funny until it wasn’t.

I slept after cooking lunch and having my portion. It’s become obvious to everyone now that my favorite channel is BBC UK and the Food channel (network?) because everytime I remember the tv exists that’s what I want to watch: I have dreams, like everyone else, and once I shared one with my dad I felt happy until he started saying he can’t open a restaurant for me because my future husband won’t like it.

But why?

Is he the one running it? It didn’t make sense to me so I tried to understand his perspective but my brain just couldn’t absorb all that. He kept saying: with a bakery (he once wanted to open a bakery for me but because I was still in school and no one was available to manage it that door closed for me) “people buy your pastry and go but with a restaurant people will want to see you and I know the Arewa men won’t like that”.

This reinforced the point that I had to be selfish when it came to choosing the type of man I want and I continue to pray about it. But I no longer try to make them understand. I try to see their perspective and it never works but I try. I read Quran too for the first time in maybe two weeks with my Malam asides the one I do before I sleep.