The Lagos sun that day was not smiling. It felt like it was in competition with my frustration, beating down on my face as I stood in the middle of that noisy market. People were shouting prices, sweating, hustling—like everyone had their role in some film, and I was the broke extra, just passing through.
I had nothing in my pocket. Just a notebook filled with ideas for the short films I wanted to shoot. Real dreams. But dreams don’t pay okada men. I learned that quick when the rider gave me one kind side-eye, waiting for his money.
For years, I blamed money for everything. It was the enemy—the thing that made kind people bitter, or caused families to argue. My uncle—once full of life—was reduced to whispers and silence because of debt. And my mum? She used to count coins like she was decoding some puzzle, saying, “Money will show you people’s true colors.”
So I grew up thinking money was bad. Like, actually evil. But that day in the market shifted something.
A Turning Point
There was this woman, Mama Ngozi. She sold mangoes, and somehow always knew when I was pretending I had things figured out. She looked at me that day, her hands pausing on a basket of fruit.
“Nekenwa,” she said, like she could see through me, “money no dey spoil person. Na person wey no sabi handle am dey spoil.”
She handed me a mango, ripe and warm from the sun, and told me to go chase my dreams—but to respect the money that would get me there.
That mango wasn’t just fruit. It was revelation.
Lesson 1: Your Mindset Is Your Camera Angle
Before that day, I saw money like it was some corrupt politician in my story. But the truth is, money is just a tool. Like a camera, or the Adobe Premiere I struggle with sometimes. It won’t shoot the film for you—but if you know how to use it, it’ll bring your vision to life.
Also Read: Why I’m Telling Money Stories Through Movies in 2025
I started tracking how I spent money—transport, suya after long edits, data for uploading to YouTube. Everything. I just wrote it all down. Not to shame myself, but to see the full picture. Like watching raw footage before you cut a story.
That small habit gave me clarity. I was wasting money on things that had nothing to do with my dreams. Like, I could’ve used that suya money for an SD card, you understand?
Try this: For just one week, track everything you spend. You don’t need any fancy app. Your phone’s Notes app will do. Or even just paper. After that week, look at it like you’re reviewing a draft. What scenes are unnecessary? What’s adding value?
Lesson 2: Every Naira Deserves a Role
Months later, I got my first big video editing gig. Not “big” like a Netflix shoot oh, but big enough to feel like progress. When the money came in, I was confused. Do I blow it? Do I save it all? Do I buy a new mic?
I did something new—I gave the money a script. I divided it up:
- 60% for essentials: feeding, rent, data, transport
- 20% for my dream: camera upgrades, editing software, festival submissions
- 20% savings: for “just in case” moments and future plans (like my building project)
I didn’t call it “budgeting” because that word makes it sound stiff. To me, it was like casting actors. Each naira had a role to play in my success.
Because of that move, I was able to attend a film workshop. That’s where I met someone who helped me pitch my first proper short film. That film got a little attention online. And that led to what is now Nekenwa TV.
Try this: Even if it’s one small paycheck, divide it like a film crew: what’s feeding you? what’s funding your dream? what’s preparing for the unexpected twist? Even if you adjust the percentages, the key thing is intentionality.
Lesson 3: Money Is Just a Bridge, Not the Final Scene
When YouTube started paying me, and the blog started picking up small traffic, I had this temptation to “upgrade” my life. Bigger phone, faster laptop, random things I thought would make me look like a proper filmmaker.
But then I remembered what Mama Ngozi said: “It’s what you do with the money that matters.”
So instead of rushing to buy gear I didn’t really need, I sent part of the money into my building fund, another part into a new short film project, and used the rest to pay for online courses. That’s how I learned about SEO and storytelling tips that later doubled my blog traffic.
Try this: Ask yourself, What am I building with this money? Is it peace of mind? A legacy? Freedom? Define your why, and let that guide your decisions. Because money on its own won’t give you peace. It’s how you use it that makes the difference.
The Story Is Still Unfolding
I still mess up. Sometimes I buy gear I didn’t plan for, or over-hype a shoot that flops. But I’m learning. And every lesson is part of the story.
Money is no longer the villain in my film. It’s just another character—sometimes helpful, sometimes complicated—but it’s mine to direct.
Today, I’m still building Nekenwa TV. I’m blogging again on nekenwastories.com. And I’m saving steadily for the building project that’s breaking ground in June 2025. If not for that mango moment, I might still be out there resenting money, instead of learning to work with it.
So, what’s your own money story?
Have you ever had a moment that flipped the way you see money? Maybe a person, a mistake, a breakthrough?
Drop a comment and let’s gist.
And if you’re curious about how I apply these lessons in real life, check out the latest Short on Nekenwa TV where I break down expense tracking—filmmaker-style.
If you want more of these real, relatable money stories—mixed with small practical tips—subscribe to Nekenwa TV. And follow nekenwastories.com for the next post coming next week: “How I Budget Like a Storyboard.” Let’s keep building. Let’s keep learning. Let’s rewrite our money stories—frame by frame.