The Price of Love – Why Nigerian Men Don’t Train Women In Schools

In the dusty streets of Ogbomosho, Oyo State, Nigeria, where the sun beat down relentlessly and the air carried the scent of roasted yam and charcoal fires, lived a man named Adebayo. At thirty-five, Adebayo was a sturdy figure, his hands calloused from years of labor, his face etched with lines of resilience. He was a yam seller, a trade he inherited from his father, who had taught him the art of bargaining and the value of honest work. Illiterate, Adebayo could neither read nor write, but his heart was rich with dreams, and his spirit burned with a quiet determination to rise above his circumstances.

Adebayo’s life was simple. He woke at dawn, loaded his rickety wheelbarrow with yams from his small plot of land, and wheeled it to the bustling market square. There, under a faded umbrella, he sold his produce to traders, housewives, and passersby. His earnings were modest, barely enough to sustain his one-room home and the small plot of farmland he owned, but Adebayo was content. That is, until he met Folake.

Folake was a vision, a young woman of twenty-two with eyes that sparkled like the morning dew and a smile that could melt the hardest heart. She came to the market one day, her steps light and purposeful, to buy yams for her family. Adebayo noticed her immediately, not just for her beauty but for the way she carried herself—confident yet kind, her voice soft but firm as she haggled with him. They struck up a conversation, and soon, Folake became a regular customer. Over time, their exchanges grew longer, filled with laughter and shared stories. Adebayo learned that Folake was the eldest daughter of a struggling family, her dreams pinned on attending university to study accounting. But her family’s poverty stood in her way, a heavy chain she couldn’t break alone.

Adebayo was smitten. For the first time, he felt a purpose beyond survival. He wanted to help Folake, to see her soar where he could not. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the market emptied, he mustered the courage to confess his feelings. “Folake,” he said, his voice trembling, “I don’t have much, but my heart is yours. I want to see you become everything you dream of.” Folake’s eyes softened, and though she hesitated, she admitted she cared for him too. Thus began their love story, a fragile bond forged in the chaos of the market.

Folake shared her dream of attending the University of Ibadan, one of Nigeria’s most prestigious institutions. She had passed the entrance exams with flying colors but lacked the funds for tuition and living expenses. Adebayo listened, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and pain. He had no education, no savings beyond a few naira tucked away in a tin box, but he had something else—his land, his home, and a few possessions accumulated over years of toil. An idea took root in his mind, audacious and terrifying: he would sell everything he owned to fund Folake’s education.

The decision was not made lightly. Late at night, as crickets chirped outside his window, Adebayo wrestled with doubt. His land was his legacy, the only thing tying him to his father’s memory. His home, though humble, was his sanctuary. Selling them meant stripping himself bare, leaving nothing but hope to cling to. Yet, the thought of Folake’s future—her graduation, her success, her smile—gave him courage. He imagined them building a life together, her education paving the way for a better future for both of them. “If I love her,” he told himself, “I must give her wings.”

Adebayo began the process quietly, not wanting to burden Folake with his sacrifice. He approached a local land buyer, a shrewd man known for driving hard bargains. After weeks of negotiation, Adebayo sold his 2-acre plot for ₦5 million, a sum that felt like a fortune to him. Next, he sold his small house in the heart of Ogbomosho for ₦3 million. He parted with his father’s old bicycle, his market stall, and even the radio that had kept him company during lonely nights. By the end, his possessions fit into a single sack, and he moved into a rented room on the outskirts of town. The money, carefully counted and stored, totaled ₦8.5 million—enough, he hoped, to cover Folake’s tuition, books, and living expenses for four years.

When Adebayo presented the plan to Folake, her reaction was a mix of awe and guilt. “Adebayo, this is too much,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “You’ve given up everything.” He took her hands, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. “It’s not too much for you. You’re my future, Folake. Go to school, make us proud.” Reluctantly, she agreed, promising to make his sacrifice worthwhile. In her heart, she carried the weight of his love, a debt she vowed to repay with her success.

Folake enrolled at the University of Ibadan in 2021, her eyes alight with hope. Adebayo, now working odd jobs as a laborer, visited her whenever he could, traveling hours by bus to bring her small gifts—fruits, a new scarf, or a few naira for snacks. Each visit filled him with pride. Folake thrived in school, her intelligence shining through in her grades and her growing confidence. She spoke of balance sheets and financial statements, words that were foreign to Adebayo but music to his ears. He didn’t understand her world, but he believed in it, believed in her.

Unbeknownst to Adebayo, Folake’s university life brought her into new circles. Among her classmates was Tunde, a charming, educated young man from a wealthy Lagos family. Tunde was everything Adebayo was not—literate, polished, and worldly. He had studied abroad briefly and spoke of opportunities in Canada and the UK with a casual ease that captivated Folake. They met during a group project, and their shared ambition drew them closer. Tunde admired Folake’s drive, and she, in turn, was drawn to his vision of a life beyond Nigeria’s borders. Their friendship deepened, and soon, it blossomed into something more.

Adebayo noticed subtle changes during his visits. Folake seemed distracted, her smiles less frequent. She spoke less of their future together and more of her studies and new friends. He brushed it off, chalking it up to the pressures of university life. But deep down, a quiet fear gnawed at him. He pushed it aside, focusing on his work and the dream that Folake’s graduation would bring them closer.

In 2025, Folake graduated with a first-class degree in accounting, a moment of triumph that Adebayo celebrated with his entire being. He traveled to Ibadan for the ceremony, his heart swelling as he watched her in her cap and gown, clutching her certificate. He had no seat among the educated families in the audience, so he stood at the back, his worn clothes a stark contrast to the vibrant crowd. When Folake spotted him, she ran to him, her eyes shining. “We did it, Adebayo,” she said, hugging him tightly. He held her close, believing this was the beginning of their shared future.

But the joy was short-lived. A few weeks after graduation, Folake invited Adebayo to a café in Ibadan. Her demeanor was nervous, her hands fidgeting with a napkin. “Adebayo,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m getting married.” The words hit him like a physical blow. Before he could process them, she continued, “It’s Tunde, my classmate. We’re moving to Canada next month. He got a job there, and… I’m so sorry.”

Adebayo’s world tilted. The café’s chatter faded, replaced by a ringing in his ears. He stared at Folake, searching for the woman who had promised to build a life with him. “Tunde?” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. Folake nodded, tears streaming down her face. “He understands my world, Adebayo. He’s… he’s part of this new life I’ve found. I’ll never forget what you did for me, but I can’t stay.”

The pain was unlike anything Adebayo had ever known. He had sold his land, his home, his father’s legacy, all for her. He had poured his heart into her dreams, believing they were one. Now, she was leaving, not just him but Nigeria, with a man who shared her new world—a world Adebayo could never enter. He wanted to be angry, to shout, to demand she stay, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded, his throat tight. “I wish you happiness, Folake,” he said, standing to leave. She called after him, but he didn’t turn back.

The weeks that followed were a blur of despair. Adebayo returned to Ogbomosho, his rented room a stark reminder of all he had lost. His savings were gone, spent on Folake’s education. His land and home belonged to others now. He worked as a laborer, carrying blocks at construction sites, his body aching as much as his heart. The market, once a place of hope where he met Folake, now mocked him with its bustle. Friends and neighbors whispered about his sacrifice, some with pity, others with scorn. “He sold everything for a woman who left him,” they said. Adebayo bore it in silence, his pride shattered but his spirit unbroken.

One evening, as he sat alone in his room, Adebayo found himself reflecting on his journey. He thought of his father, who had taught him that love was about giving without expecting return. He thought of Folake, now starting a new life across the ocean. The pain was still raw, but a flicker of understanding emerged. He had loved her truly, and that love, though unreturned, had given her wings. Perhaps that was enough.

Determined not to let his story end in defeat, Adebayo began to rebuild. He joined a local cooperative, pooling his meager earnings with other farmers to lease a small plot. He planted yams again, his hands finding solace in the soil. At night, he attended adult literacy classes, struggling to learn the letters that had once seemed so foreign. It was slow, painful work, but each word he deciphered felt like a step toward reclaiming his dignity.

Years later, Adebayo stood in the same market, now a small landowner again, his stall stocked with yams and a few bags of plantain chips from a side venture. He was older, his hair flecked with gray, but his eyes held a quiet strength. He heard through a friend that Folake and Tunde were thriving Abroad, with a child and a comfortable life. The news stung, but it no longer broke him. He had loved, he had lost, but he had found himself in the process.

Adebayo’s story spread quietly in Ogbomosho, a tale of sacrifice and resilience. Young men came to him for advice, and he told them, “Love with all your heart, but never lose yourself in it.” He had given everything for Folake, only to be left with nothing. Yet, from that nothing, he had built something new—a life not defined by what he lost, but by the strength he found within.

Summary and Conclusion

Adebayo’s journey is a testament to the power of selfless love and the resilience of the human spirit. His sacrifice for Folake’s education, though met with betrayal, revealed his capacity for generosity and his ability to rise above heartbreak. In losing everything, Adebayo discovered his own worth, rebuilding his life with determination and hope. His story reminds us that love, even when unreciprocated, can inspire growth, and that true strength lies in forging ahead despite life’s deepest wounds.