Remember the one time when you were young and you stepped out at an African function and your aunty told you, “my dear, you better marry a Nigerian ohh”; or the time you were told: “I hope you know that your husband will be a Nigerian”. You wondered why they were even talking to you because you were only twelve years old.

Now, fast forward, and you are 28, getting ripe. To your aunties, probably overripe, looking for Mr. Right.

Of course, you have have your list of qualifications and requirements in hand: he must be this tall, have a degree, and hopefully not do drugs, never been to jail. Is the question of being Nigerian ever on the list?

People will always tell you love is blind; but is that because you choose not to see or play the cards you have been dealt? My mom says: “he that truly searcheth will find”. So, if you are really looking hard for a Nigerian spouse, won’t you get one?

We have all heard the rumors about the Yoruba demons or the wicked Igbo boys that every girl dates and swears she will never talk to a Nigerian man again, but they always come back. Obviously, everyone has different opinions and no one can stop love when it comes, but are you searching out for your dream Nigerian guy?

I can think of a few good reasons why:

Cultural Barrier

Nigerians have a rich culture, and so many different ethnic groups within a single nation. To find that you marry out of your nationality now, not only are they not from your country, they are also not your ethnicity. Wahala dey go.

Mixed weddings and cultural infusions are really cool in the photos, but Nigerian weddings are pretty complex and the last thing anyone wants to do is start trying to combine two completely different cultures into a perfect celebration on one night. Nevertheless, as previously stated, it can be done.

Preserve the Roots

A recent study by the National Geographic showed that by the year 2050, a majority of Americans will be multi-racial. Some say that this shows great strides ahead for the future of racial relations, but what does it say for the future of culture and ethnic backgrounds? Nigerians marrying Nigerians will have a great movement in preserving our culture for the coming generations. As a people, Nigerians have worked so hard to make their mark in the Western World; should we really allow our culture to evaporate for the sake of racial ambiguity?


Needless to say, although a lot of people will disagree, it is easier to marry a Nigerian. Imagine all the nervousness you had in your heart when you had to introduce your significant other to your parents. You could either say, “Mom, this is my boyfriend and he’s from Ikeji” or “Mom, this is my boyfriend Alex and he’s…..(not Nigerian)”. There a lot of less cultural gaps to fill when someone is from the same country as you and a lot less stories to explain as well. Plus, he will understand why you drink Peak milk with your tea and bread or why you go to church on New Year’s Eve.

To sum it up, you will need to agree on religion, finance, and family planning as a couple to truly succeed as a Nigerian couple.

As many will argue, these are the reasons why a lot of Nigerian marriages fail. We will leave those for another discussion.

Love is love no matter how you name it and no matter who says I do. But for one Nigerian marriage enthusiast, the best way to fly is with green and white. Plus, Nigerian wedding photos make such great viral images on Instagram.

About Adanwa

The writer “adanwa” is a 20 year old Medical Student in the US. She enjoys reading, writing, cooking, staying fit, and blogging for carefreemedgirl.wordpress.com. Her friends would describe her as a Sports Fanatic and a Southern Belle. Needless to say, she is proud of her Nigerian heritage and is an advocate for African culture and society.

Source: Bellanaija.com

Lately, I have been very intrigued by how urbanization and the vast development we all are witnessing affect our mental health. I know that urbanization has some positive impacts but some of the impacts of this development come with negative effects like unemployment, immigration, change of family dynamic, crime, increased stress, poor social network etc.


Lolo Cynthia Is a public health specialist, sexuality educator and founder of the social enterprise LoloTalks, that employs all forms of media (online and offline) to create awareness and sustainable solutions to our contemporary social and health issues in Africa.  She also doubles as a documentary and talk show producer and lends her voice on issues regarding interpersonal relationships, sexuality, gender, and social issues through her YouTube channel LoloTalks and her blog.

Nigeria… The home of the big man with the big watch with the big car, the big yacht, the big Ikoyi villa, the big corner suite and the big watch. Nigeria… The land of the night clubs open late into the night where big boys roll up in their armoured four by fours to pop champagne and big girls (and small ones waiting for the big fish) gyrate to Afrobeats.

Nigeria… Where the make of your car, your designer handbag, your shoes opens the right doors or sees the right doors slam in your face.

Nigeria… The home of pastors who preach hellfire and fury on Sunday mornings on those ashawos who fail to pay their tithe, those same ‘men of God’ who jump on their private jets paid for by those hard earned, easily parted tithes to run up and down the country allegedly spreading the gospel at the congregation’s expense. The same congregation that work day and night to put together that 10%.

Nigeria… The home of the congregation that spend the whole of Friday night at vigil and the whole of Saturday night at the club chasing tail.

Where the road to riches is paved with as much blood, sweat and tears as sin, sleaze and sacrilege. Where a night spent in the right bed or a day spent in the wrong car can make or break you. Where the right friend in high places can set you up and the enemy in the right circles can crush you down.

I remember the first time I visited Nigeria in the spring of 2009. Hungry for a new land and all its heady promises ahead of me waiting to be explored, I couldn’t contain my excitement, keen to explore every nook and cranny. My friends, still in their mid- to late twenties, in their fresh JJC status were keen to make the most of their ‘flavour of the year’ status – until the next shipment of JJCs arrived next year of course! – were keen to make hay while the sun was up. Thus, almost every day was spent at a private beach or one of the new hipster scenes mushrooming around Lagos and every night club hopping into the early hours of the morning.

I recall vividly my first night out. Driving down the cities of Victoria Island that all looked alike to my foreign eye, looking out the window, I would see women cooking under kerosene lamps on street corners, their babies tied in a wrapper on their backs, toddlers on cardboard boxes by their feet, men several feet away idling the night on their stools by the roadside. Bare feet, skin glossed in sweat, bellies hanging out of their trousers.

Turn a corner, and there they were: the young movers and shakers of Lagos, slipping out of Jaguars and Bentleys, dressed to the nines, girls spilling out of body cons, dripping in jewellery, dripped in perfume; guys in their brand jeans, tops and shoes, brandishing their Rolexes. Turn another corner, a family steeped in darkness, then another street, and a nightclub shining like a beacon through the dark night, powered by six generators.

I was horrified at the two extremes side by side. More so by the blindness of the rich and privileges to the bleakness all around them. Looking at their suave swagger, you’d be forgiven to think they were strutting down the bright boulevards of Manhattan or the sleek streets of Mayfair. Yet here they were right in the heart of Africa’s giant, dodging manholes, broken pavement slabs and hawkers, with nothing but poverty and darkness round every street corner.

A few nights later, heading down to the De Marquee, one of the hip and happening clubs at the time, from where our car was parked a few hundred meters down the road, we were assaulted by beggars and hawkers right, left, centre as we zigged and zagged our way. “Don’t look at them,” someone would say, “don’t acknowledge them” another, “do not reply,” someone else would add, “Just keep looking ahead.” So there was I, head held high, eyes fixed to the horizon, ignoring the suffering around me. It had taken me just four days to become immune to the extremes of Lagos.

Now what’s the point of all this? 
According to the Commitment to Reducing Inequality (CRI) index compiled by Development Finance International (DFI) and Oxfam, Nigeria is now home to the highest number of the world’s poorest people – 86.9 million compared to India’s 71.5 million and has overtaken India to become the poverty capital of the world.

Nigeria also ranked really low – 152 of 157 countries – on the World Bank first-ever Human Capital Index (HCI). The index, according to Quartz, measures “the amount of human capital that a child born today can expect to attain by age 18” using 5 factors: chances of a child reaching age five, healthy growth, expected years of schooling, quality of learning available and the adult survival rate.

And to add insult to injury, a most recent report by Technosave presented at “Our Actions Are Our Future: A #Zero Hunger World by 2030 is Possible” has said Nigeria is currently home to the second largest population of malnourished children. If you wanted to quantify this, according to UNICEF, the number of malnourished children stunted due to malnutrition was 17million in 2018.

The report also revealed that one out of three Nigerian children under the age of five is considered stunted, and that their bodies and brains are deprived of the key nutrients that they need to fully develop and reach their potential.

And yet, the movers and the shakers of this country are slipping out of fancy cars, spilling out of designer dresses, dripping in bling, busy jetting off to destination weddings, holidaying in Dubai, Instagramming their avocado on toast. In between, on the odd occasion, we do talk politics of course – deciding which inconsequential, ineffective leader to put into power for the next four years so those who are rich can get richer, and those who are poor become the invisible stepping stones on the way to the glitzy clubs.


Culled from Guardian Woman

Understanding the Wodaabe tribe

The Wodaabe are a nomadic sexually liberated polygamous/polyamorous tribe who allow the tribe’s women to have sexual intercourse with whoever they want before they are married. The women are also allowed to have numerous husbands. Women have all the power when it comes to intimacy.

Women who attend the Wodaabe festival may or may not be married, but they come in search of their next husband. Each female present gets to choose her own winner and escape with him.

First marriages are traditionally arranged by families while parties are still children. This marriage is called Koogal.

According to the Daily Mail, ” A bride stays with her husband until she becomes pregnant, after which goes to live with her mother. She delivers the baby at her mother’s home when she becomes a ‘boofeydo’, which literally means ‘someone who has committed an error’. While she is boofeydo, she is not allowed to have any contact with her husband, and he is not allowed to express any interest in either her or the child. After two to three years, she is permitted to visit her husband, but it is still taboo that she should live with him or bring the child with her; this only becomes permissible when her mother has managed to purchase all the items that are necessary for her home. But by then the woman maybe ready for her second marriage…”

This second marriage might be due to love and attraction — probably from the Gerewol — and it is called Teegal.

The Gerewol festival

The Gerewol is a seven-night festival which occurs at the end of the rainy season in September and it’s a time for the tribe to relax after months of travelling across the Sahel desert.

Where the festival will hold is hidden till days before the event. Though a time for music and dance, the main attractions of festival are the beauty pageant and mating dance contest, Yaake.

The men, while in makeup and dresses, are judged by the women of the tribe who may take any of them as a mate as she pleases.

The men spend as long as six hours preparing their faces for the festival. They believe bright eyes, white teeth and a sharp nose are the attributes that make a man beautiful so the make up enhances these features — red clay as foundation, white stripe to make the nose look sharper, and black eyeliner and lipstick to highlight their white teeth and eyes. White ostrich feathers are placed in their hair to make them appear taller and pull the look together. They bare their eyes and teeth at the festival.

Yaake is a mating call for men to battle it out for sexual supremacy — for the chance to be regarded as a sex god.

The main judges of the dance are three of the tribe’s most beautiful women whose fathers have won the Yaake in the past. However, women from all over the tribe still attend to find new husbands. A woman with an ugly husband would want to escape her marriage and find a more good-looking mate. Sometimes, a husband might stop his wife from going to the Gerewol.

If the new couple is able to run away undetected, society recognises their marriage from then on.

One man proudly revealed to the Daily Mail that he had stolen 30 wives in his life: “You know, stealing wives is not an easy thing. Only the Wodaabe know! You steal a woman from others and she will give sons to your lineage, even grandsons. Only the Wodaabe know how to do that.”


Source: pulse.ng