A Soft Heart and an Empty Wallet
There’s a difference between being kind and being careless. I learnt this the hard way, with ₦50,000 I may never see again. You see, I used to think lending money to friends made me a good person. It made me feel helpful and Important. Like I was someone you could count on.
What it really made me was broke.
The Call of Help
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I was at work, dodging emails and dreaming of retirement when I got a message from Fola, an old friend I hadn’t seen since NYSC. The kind of friend that only calls when things are rough (I am not complaining).
“Babe, I no even know how to talk am… I really need your help. I need ₦50k, urgently. I go pay you back next week.”
She sent voice notes too for dramatic effect. Crying baby and a generator coughing to death. It sounded like desperation and helplessness, and I felt it.
Did I have ₦50k to spare? No. But I had ₦67,000 in my account and a soft spot for helping people. So, without thinking, I sent her the money. My chest was tight, but I felt like a good person.
The Waiting Game
Next week came, nothing.
Another week, still nothing. It was deafening silence from her end. No call or message from her to reassure me or explain why she can't go through with her promise.
By the third week, I stopped pretending to be understanding.
I sent her a subtle 'How far?'
She replied with, “Babe, I never forget. I dey sort out something small. This country hard.”
I wanted to reply her 'Country hard? I know and that’s why I need my money'. But I didn’t say that; Instead, I said “No wahala.”
The Lies We Tell Ourselves
Let me tell you something: once you start saying “No wahala” for money you need, you are not a helper. You are a mumu.
I started adjusting my lifestyle like someone on a weight-loss plan. No more shawarma after work. I started doing mental maths before entering Uber. My account balance began to look like my NEPA bill, confusing and depressing.
And Fola? She was posting on WhatsApp. Hair done, nails fixed. One week, she was in Lekki at a bridal shower, I zoomed in on her wine glass, hoping it was Zobo. It wasn’t.
The Confrontation
After one month and three ignored messages, I called her.
"Hello?” she said sweetly.
“Fola, how far that money?”
She sighed. “Ehn… you self, you no dey understand person. I go pay you when I fit. I no dey run, I go pay you. Let me breathe small ”
That one entered my soul. How did I become the villain for asking for my money?
Money Lessons I Learnt the hard way
This experience taught me four things:
1. Don’t lend what you can’t dash. If you’re going to be upset about not getting it back, don’t send it.
2. Friendship is not collateral. People will disappoint you with confidence.
3. Pity won’t protect your pocket. It’ll just empty it with no receipt.
4. Pity is not a financial strategy.
Now, I have a new rule: I only lend if I can survive without that money, and even then, I write it off in my mind. That way, if it comes back, great. If it doesn’t, I sleep well.
I’m Not Wicked, I’m Wise
There’s this guilt they try to put on you in Nigeria. If you say no, you’re stingy. If you ask for your money, you’re heartless. But let’s be honest, how many people will come through for you when the roles are reverse?
If I ever go broke and text “Help me with ₦50k,” only GTBank will reply, and they’ll charge interest.
The Final Straw
Months later, Fola called, not to return the money, oh, to ask for more!
“Just ₦20k this time. I swear, e no go pass Friday.”
I laughed like someone who’s seen life.
“Fola, I no even get. If you fit borrow me sef, I go thank you.”
She never called back.
Your Money, Your Rules
If you’ve ever lent out of pity and ended up bitter, you’re not alone. We all want to be good people, but not at the cost of our peace and account balance. Pity feels good in the moment, but wisdom lasts longer.
Next time someone comes with a sob story, pause. Ask yourself: is this help or is this self-sabotage?
Because at the end of the day, it’s not just about being kind. It’s about being kind and not stupid.
So tell me, who has eaten your money with “I go pay next week?” Share your story in the comments.
I tell real money stories to break money shame, learn, and grow together.
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