Money Na Water: The Harsh Truth About Wealth in Nigeria and the Social Media Mirage
In today’s Nigeria, especially among the urban youth, there exists a pervasive illusion — one carefully curated and globally disseminated through the glowing screens of Instagram and TikTok. A mirage that makes many believe that money literally grows on trees, that everyone is a baller, and that if you’re not flexing by 25, you’re already a failure. “Money na water,” they say. But is that the reality?
No Nigerian resident below 50 years old is worth over $500 million. In fact, no resident Nigerian below 55 years old is even worth $100 million. That statement, bold as it sounds, is not only factual — it’s also a necessary wake-up call in an age where “packaging” often trumps productivity.
Walk through the digital corridors of Instagram and you’ll find the #MoneyNaWater crew flaunting luxury cars, designer wear, all-expense-paid vacations in Dubai and the Maldives, high-end perfumes, and champagne breakfasts in Victoria Island penthouses. They post cryptic captions like “Hustle hard till your money makes noise” or “If you’re broke at 30, you deserve it.”
Yet, many of them do not have a business that generates even $500,000 (N700 million) annually — talk less of one that sustains such a lifestyle year after year. A good number don’t even have $50,000 in their bank accounts. What they have is a strong desire for validation, a deep sense of competition, and access to rented luxury — all in the name of ‘packaging’.
Packaging is the art of presenting a lifestyle one hasn’t earned, while substance is the wealth that can be verified, sustained, and generationally transferred. In Nigeria today, packaging has become a career on its own. From fake wristwatches and borrowed cars to rented Airbnbs for photoshoots and paid media placements — the social media economy thrives on a lie.
This is not to say wealth doesn’t exist in Nigeria. It does. But it is scarce, mature, and quiet. It wears plain clothes and is often not found on Instagram.
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Look closely at the real financial elite of Nigeria — the men and women who control billions in real assets, liquidity, and generational impact:
- Aliko Dangote (67) – Africa’s richest man and industrialist.
- Rabiu Samad (64) – Founder of BUA Group, Nigeria’s second richest man.
- Tony Elumelu (61) – Banking mogul and founder of Heirs Holdings.
- Peter Obi (63) – Former governor and successful businessman.
- Jim Ovia (72) – Founder of Zenith Bank.
- Bishop Ekulo (70s) – Silent investor and businessman.
- Samuel Maduka Onyishi (62) – Entrepreneur and owner of Peace Mass Transit.
- Wale Oshin (60s) – Insurance and finance magnate.
All of these men are well above 60 years old, with the average Nigerian billionaire clocking around 65. None of them got to their financial pedestal by 30, or even by 40 in most cases. Their stories are built on decades of consistent work, learning from failure, strong networks, ethical positioning, and institutional ownership.
There is no quick fix. There is no skipping the process.
The constant bombardment of overnight success stories has created a false sense of urgency among young Nigerians. If you’re not rich by 25, trending by 27, and owning property by 30, you feel like a failure. This is a dangerous mindset.
Let’s pause for a moment and re-evaluate.
In truth, most sustainable wealth stories don’t begin to show dividends until the person is in their 40s and 50s. This is when experience, networking, risk-taking, and investment growth begin to compound meaningfully.
Take Peter Obi, for instance. He started his journey early but made his major financial strides after years of trading, banking investments, and governance experience. Tony Elumelu didn’t become a financial powerhouse overnight. Rabiu Samad built his empire brick by brick over 30 years.
So, to the 25-year-old running two jobs, trying to scale an online business, saving N20,000 every month and feeling defeated — this is your foundation phase. This is the dirty, unglamorous part of your success story. Don’t despise it.
The Nigerian economy is hard. Unemployment is high. Opportunities are often determined by access rather than merit. In such an environment, it’s easy to sell the dream of instant riches. The social media influencers know this, and they milk it:
- Crypto bros and Forex scammers telling you that trading for 2 hours a day can make you a millionaire.
- Motivational speakers selling courses on how to make money without any real business model.
- Skincare entrepreneurs whose true income comes from paid ads, not actual sales.
- Fake lifestyle influencers who beg or borrow to sustain an image.
Many young Nigerians fall into the trap not because they’re foolish — but because they’re desperate, insecure, and uninformed. When you’re surrounded by hardship, the sound of “money na water” is like a sweet lullaby. But like most lullabies, it’s not real.
While the fake ballers scream “Money na water,” the real billionaires move in silence.
Do you ever see Dangote on Instagram spraying money? Or Samad Rabiu making dance videos with wads of dollars? Or Wale Oshin tweeting about his Rolex collection? These men operate in the shadows of influence and legacy.
Their assets are not loud — but they’re massive:
- Multinational holdings
- Oil and gas investments
- Institutional ownership in banks, telecoms, insurance, transport, and infrastructure
- Foreign equity in blue chip companies
- Real estate empires stretching from Abuja to New York
When they throw parties — like Tony Elumelu’s annual white party — it’s not for validation. It’s a private gathering of power, influence, and generational leadership.
In one such event, a photo surfaced of a younger entrepreneur standing beside Rabiu Samad — smiling not because of clout, but because he was in the presence of a mentor who represents what is possible when you stay the course.
Why do young people cling to the illusion? Because it feels good.
It feels better to pretend you’re rich than to confront your lack.
It feels better to rent a Benz for the weekend and post stories than to accept you’re still grinding.
It feels better to lie to your audience than to show them your reality.
But pretending does not produce wealth. Pretending consumes what you have and robs you of what you could become.
To build real wealth, you must embrace the grind, delay gratification, and stop performing for strangers.
Key Traits of Silent Billionaires:
- Delayed gratification
- Minimal social media presence
- Real assets over appearance
- Strong business fundamentals
- Consistent, ethical decision-making
- Investing over spending
The average Nigerian youth must unlearn what Instagram taught them:
- Wealth takes time
- Success is not linear
- Comparison kills contentment
- If it’s not traceable, it’s not credible
- Avoid shortcuts that look like fast tracks
If a 29-year-old tells you he’s worth $50 million but has no company, no audit trail, and no verified assets — he’s either lying, scamming, or an exception born of corruption.
Let that not be your model.
If you’re 25 today, you have 30 years before you turn 55 — the benchmark where real Nigerian wealth begins to crystallize.
Here’s how to use it wisely:
Age 25–35: Foundation
- Build skills
- Gain experience
- Save aggressively
- Avoid debt from lifestyle
- Network strategically
- Start small investments
Age 35–45: Growth
- Scale your business/career
- Acquire assets: land, stock, real estate
- Diversify your income
- Build a reputable brand
Age 45–55: Leverage
- Reap from compounding
- Sit on boards
- Mentor younger entrepreneurs
- Begin wealth transfer strategies
- Build legacy structures
Dear young Nigerian, don’t let the noise distract you. What you’re doing — waking up early, working multiple jobs, sending proposals, saving little by little — is what will make you the real billionaire at 60.
There is no award for blowing before 30. Most who “blow” early crash just as quickly. But those who build slowly, steadily, and ethically — they last. And they leave something for the next generation.
Keep going.
Even if nobody sees you now, one day e go click.
