My Life In Nollywood: Martini Akande
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From bus conductors to civil servants to tech workers, holding two or even three jobs has quietly become the norm for many Nigerians. Days are stitched together with side gigs, night shifts, and relentless efforts to make ends meet. Having one job is no longer sufficient for a comfortable life. This culture of constant busyness […]
From bus conductors to civil servants to tech workers, holding two or even three jobs has quietly become the norm for many Nigerians. Days are stitched together with side gigs, night shifts, and relentless efforts to make ends meet. Having one job is no longer sufficient for a comfortable life. This culture of constant busyness is eating away at health and peace of mind. In a country where hustle is often glorified, how do we draw the line between genuine hard work and the relentless grind of constantly working. Hustle culture is a mindset that glorifies constant work, relentless productivity, and the belief that success can only be achieved through continuous output. In Nigeria, this mentality is steadily eroding peace of mind and placing immense, often unnecessary, pressure on both adults and young people.
Unlike purposeful hard work, which channels energy into building skills, advancing a career, or pursuing a passion with planned rest and balance, hustle culture leaves little room for strategy or recovery. It demands constant availability, blurs work and personal time, and equates exhaustion with success. In this environment, the goal is not professional development but day-to-day financial stability, making the grind an act of necessity rather than a step toward long-term growth.
According to the National Bureau of Statistics, Nigeria’s unemployment rate was 4.3 percent in the second quarter of 2024, while underemployment stood at 9.2 percent in the same period. Self-employment is now the dominant mode of work, with about 85.6 percent of Nigerians working for themselves. Informal jobs, which are not regulated or protected by government structures, account for as much as 93 percent of all employment. For young Nigerians, the scarcity of stable opportunities is even starker. While the Bureau reports youth unemployment at 6.5 percent, Afrobarometer’s earlier figures of 53.4 percent better reflect the lived reality.
The larger economic picture appears to tell a different story. Nigeria’s Gross Domestic Product grew by about 3.2 percent in the first quarter of 2025. Yet inflation soared to 33 percent in 2024 and poverty rates remain stuck near 39 percent. Despite these signals of growth on paper, Nigeria still ranks among the poorest nations in the world. In 2025, the IMF ranked the country as the twelfth poorest by GDP per capita at just 807 dollars, a reminder that economic expansion has not translated into improved living conditions.
The pressure of survival is visible in everyday life. In Lagos and other cities, the cycle of endless work is straining both bodies and minds. Across ages and professions, the pressure to stack jobs is taking a visible toll. For Tomi, a 25 year old marketing manager juggling three side gigs,weekends never feel like hers, her 9–5 salary barely covers essentials, despite long nights at the office. Eva, an actor who also runs a hair business and freelances in design admits to high anxiety and rising blood pressure, describing a generation that feels undeserving of rest while social media fuels constant comparisons. 33-year-old video editor and designer, Obinna, recalls the grinding headaches and fatigue of years spent commuting between three jobs, stress that lingers even now that he works remotely. And Israel, a 20-year-old student balancing forex trading with a UI internship, who confesses that the need to meet bills robs him of sleep and chips away at his health. Their stories reveal a pattern: economic survival, not ambition alone, drives the hustle.
Inspire the Mind highlights the distinct mental health challenges faced by Lagos residents, driven by factors such as chronic traffic congestion, overcrowding, and persistent cultural stigma. Depression and anxiety disproportionately affect women and unemployed youth. Nationally, between 25 and 30 percent of Nigerians will experience a mental illness in their lifetime, but only one in ten receive professional care. Government budgets for mental health remain minimal.
The hustle narrative has taken on a life of its own online, with social media platforms amplifying the messaging that rest is weakness. Social media sensation Hauwa Lawal captures this frustration concisely in a viral X post. She expresses that Nigerians have been cheated out of a basic ease of life and can almost never relax because there is always the thought of hustle gnawing at them. The post sparked a wider conversation and echoed the feelings of many. At the same time, global conversations are shifting. In a most recent survey on the topic, 54 percent of people believed hustle culture as a direct cause of burnout, and movements like “soft life” have begun to challenge the glorification of exhaustion.
Despite this, the hustle culture in Nigeria is not merely a choice but a matter of survival. Job insecurity makes many workers feel disposable. Cultural norms equate busyness with value, and to rest is to risk being labeled lazy. Few workplaces provide mental health support, and therapy remains out of reach for most. Stigma still discourages people from admitting stress or seeking help. In such an environment, even criminal enterprises such as internet fraud, bribery, and petty scams are sometimes rationalized as hustles, exposing the desperation bred by systemic failure.
Globally, attitudes are changing. In developed economies, companies are investing in employee wellbeing with flexible hours, workplace therapy, and wellness programs. Emerging economies are also beginning to rethink the equation of hustle with virtue, turning instead toward work-life balance and harmony. Nigeria risks being left behind, clinging to a culture that is both economically and socially unsustainable.
There is no denying that Nigerians are resourceful, this has given rise to innovative startups, bold creative brands, and cultural influence that travels far beyond the country’s borders. Yet the cost is steep. When endless work replaces joy, when constant hustling becomes a habit, when rest feels like a luxury, something essential has been lost.
The way forward requires more than individual grit. It demands policies that expand mental health access, create stronger safety nets, and present a truer picture of unemployment beyond token definitions. Nigeria’s hustle culture may have helped many survive, but without structural change, it will never allow its people to thrive.
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