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I vividly remember the day I stepped into my friend's opulent duplex, feeling like I'd stumbled upon a treasure trove. The warm glow of steady electricity enveloped me, and the hum of the standby generator provided a soothing background melody. My friend, blessed with abundance, had generously opened his doors to me, and I was grateful to escape the humble confines of my previous life. As I settled into the plush couch, surrounded by lavish furnishings, I felt like royalty. My friend's hospitality knew no bounds; he shared his space, his laughter, and his life with me. That has been the life that I wanted, the life of luxury and pleasure.
But as time passed, the comforts of dependency began to suffocate me. I yearned for independence, for a space to call my own. The catalyst for change arrived with my friend's announcement: he was getting married. Suddenly, the dynamics of our living arrangement shifted. Would his wife welcome me with open arms, or view me as a parasite? Uncertainty gnawed at me, and I knew it was time to find my own, most likely, a place like my friend's.
Thus, I began my arduous search for a beautiful house. The hunt was daunting, with rent prices skyrocketing like Nigerian kites in the harmattan winds. After two weeks of scouring neighborhoods, I faced a daunting decision to either continue living with my friend or go for a cheaper rent outside his area.Determined to spread my wings, I chose the latter. I navigated various streets, dodging estate agents and their exorbitant fees like a skilled navigator avoiding treacherous waters. On a sunny Saturday, fortune smiled upon me in Olorunsogo area. A gated house with a "Flat to Let" sign beckoned, its bold letters shining like a lighthouse in the darkness.With trepidation, I knocked on the gate, fearing the fierce bark of a guard dog. But instead, a warm middle-aged man greeted me, his smile as inviting as a cold glass of kunu on a sweltering afternoon. The house was not as gigantic as my friend's place but it's good starting point.
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There were lots of fruit in the compound, such as plantain, pawpaw, and orange trees, they were dancing in the breeze, as the landlord shared his story. He said he had bypassed estate agents, because he weary of their inflated prices and insatiable commissions. As we strolled through the compound, the scent of ripening fruits enveloped us, transporting me to a world of simplicity and beauty.
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To my delight, he offered a cozy two-bedroom flat at a significantly lower rate. Elated, I accepted and ready to begin my new life. The rent was not burdensome. So, I still had some money left to furnish my two bedroom in my own little way.
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The apartment may not have been a palace, but it was mine – a sanctuary where I could craft my own destiny.
Though, I sometimes miss my friend's place and the environment. The memories of my friend's luxuries linger. I miss the steady power, the sumptuous meals and the comforting familiarity of his house. Sometimes, I long for the presidential treat of my friend's place but I know I've taken a crucial step toward independence.As I settle into my new home, I'm learning to the beauty of simplicity. My space may not be luxurious, but it's mine. I'm trading comfort for character, discovering that true independence comes with its own rewards. Now, I wake up each morning to the sweet songs of birds. My apartment may not be a mansion, but it's my haven – a place where I can grow, learn, and chart my own course.

All pictures were shot by me.