How FB Saved Me and My Mother
I would like to tell a story that revolves around Aunty Funmi Bello (FB). FB is the coolest, richest Alhaja I know. Although most of my mum’s friends prefer to be addressed with grander titles in the name of respect, such as Big Mummy, Aunty Funmi Bello would have none of that.
In fact, if it were left to her, she’d make me address her simply as Funmi. But of course, the kind of home training my dear Nigerian parents gave me would never allow that to happen. So, whenever my mum was around, she was Aunty Funmi, and in my mother’s absence, she was simply FB.
Interestingly, my mum and FB have been friends for no more than three years, yet it seems as though FB has become closer to my mum than her jugular vein itself.
FB moved into our estate four years ago. She was the stereotypical kind of woman—the one who never got married and had no children! People around the estate whispered in hushed tones that she was an ashewo (prostitute) and a proud woman, which was why she remained single at her age.
The day I found out FB was 52, I almost lost my mind. I kept thinking, She’s definitely lying, until I confronted her and she gave her signature laugh—the high-pitched, carefree laugh that almost sounded like a new generator starting up, yet somehow remained very, very sexy.
Yes, if it’s not obvious already, I am utterly enamoured by the woman. I find her fascinating. FB makes me feel like I can be anything. I am closer to her than I am to my own mum. Although I know it would probably never be admitted to my mother’s face, I trust FB more than anyone else in this world. There’s something about a woman who just lives life on her own terms.
For the entire first year when she moved in, I usually felt sorry for her. We thought it must be so hard to live alone without a family.
Surprisingly, FB threw house parties almost every other weekend, attended by scores of people. She always invited us too, but my mum politely declined every time.
To be honest, my mum felt it was inappropriate to associate too closely with someone who carried such a reputation until my father died and FB showed up at our house the very next day to pay respects. My dad owned the estate. He was a very wealthy man, so news of his passing spread like wildfire.
I remember being surprised when I opened the door that morning and found FB standing outside. Up close, I noticed how youthful and beautiful she looked. I was completely tongue-tied for a few moments until one of the mourners asked me who it was.
FB entered the house and greeted everyone as though she had known them for years. Her head was held high as she exchanged pleasantries around the living room. She neither bowed nor adopted a meek demeanour. Instead, she radiated what people today would call “main character energy.”
She would go on to become a regular visitor in our home, frequently bringing meals for my mother and me, even long after my father had been laid to rest. More importantly, FB was the one who took us in when the bank came and threw us out.
You see, my mother was a full-time housewife. She was completely provided for by my father. And by provided, I mean everything. My mum was a lavish spender. She owned some of the finest clothes and shoes from around the world. Unbeknownst to her, my father had been sinking deeper and deeper into billions of naira in debt during his final years. Yet my mother continued maintaining her luxurious lifestyle.
But here’s the painful twist. The day the bank threw us out, we were left with absolutely nothing. My mum and I had left the estate briefly to buy pizza and ice cream across the street when a phone call from the caretaker left her visibly shaken. We abandoned the outing immediately and rushed back.
When we arrived, we were met with a horrifying scene. The entire estate had reportedly been confiscated, and residents were being evicted on the spot. Utterly devastated, my mother went into denial.
While other people hurriedly packed their belongings, she paced around in tears, desperately trying to reach relatives on the phone. By the time reality finally caught up with her, the bankers had already locked up the house we had called home for most of our lives.
I still remember FB driving us with some of her belongings in her car and asking if we had somewhere to go. My mother burst into tears. It was the first time I had ever seen her express vulnerability so openly.
My father had been the breadwinner not only of our family but also of his extended family. My mother, on the other hand, was an orphan. There was nowhere to go.
My mum was too proud to ask her flashy friends for help. Truth be told, I doubt they would have helped anyway.
The bank took everything! The only things we had left were my mother’s car which had been purchased in her name and the casual clothes we were wearing that day. It was one of the most devastating periods of our lives.
To make matters worse, Mum had no savings. That was what upset FB the most. Apparently, my sweet mum had spent years spending money with the assumption that it was permanently hers too.
She had no personal bank account. Every joint account she shared with my father had been frozen or confiscated alongside his assets. It was official: we were broke!
FB was the one who began teaching my mother about financial prudence and investing. She introduced her to low-risk investment opportunities and helped her understand the importance of financial independence.
It turned out FB was actually very wealthy. I mean, she certainly carried herself that way, but my mother was shocked to discover that FB built her wealth independently. She owned multiple successful businesses and managed them remarkably well.
FB eventually helped my mother establish a catering and restaurant business. She also taught her how to invest profits carefully in low-risk investment opportunities to generate additional income.
Now you may be wondering: What exactly are low-risk investments?
Low-risk investments are investment options in which the chances of losing money are relatively small. Many are government-backed or highly regulated, allowing investors to either preserve their capital or experience only minimal losses over time.
Some popular low-risk investment options in Nigeria include:
- Treasury Bills, aka T-Bills: Here, you purchase a T-bill form which outlines that you’ll be lending your money to the government and when you get it back, it will have accrued interest. You can invest as low as #₦100,000, with a tenur4 ranging from three months to one year.
- Treasury Bonds, aka FGN Savings Bonds: These are similar to Treasury Bills but are designed for longer investment periods, which generally results in higher returns.
- Fixed Deposit Accounts: Commercial banks offer fixed deposit accounts that allow customers to lock away funds for a specified period, usually from one month upwards, while earning interest on the deposited amount.
- Real Estate: This is among the most expensive investment schemes. You can buy a land or property and resell it later at a higher value. Real estate has proven to be an effective hedge against inflation
- Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs): This is similar to real estate, but more affordable. Instead of one individual/investor going into real estate, a group of investors pool funds into a trust and the trust manager invests the funds in real estate. Such funds can be used to acquire or develop property assets. Profits and dividends generated are shared among investors. REITs are also traded on the Nigerian Stock Exchange.
Well, those are just a few examples.
I hope this inspires you to consider investing in at least one of these options now!!!
Be financially prudent.
Start saving and investing today.
P.S: You can begin your financial prudence journey through Ladda (getladda.com), a fintech platform dedicated to helping you save and invest money securely.
SHORT BIO
Azimat is a young woman in her early twenties and a tertiary-level medical student. She is as captivated by science as she is inspired by art. A passionate storyteller, she crafts narratives that explore coming-of-age journeys, diversity and inclusion, and family dynamics woven into broader societal intrigue, often set against the rich backdrop of Nigerian culture. Beyond her creative work, Azimat is a committed advocate for women’s rights, particularly in the areas of financial independence, gynaecological health, mental health awareness, and support for neurodivergent and disabled individuals.
You can find Azimat on:
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