There is a phrase every Nigerian worker whispers to themselves at 2 AM: "I no dey do again." It is not a resignation letter. It is not a career change. It is a midnight prayer, a bathroom cry, a traffic jam confession. "I no dey do again" means I am done with this job, this boss, this commute, this life. It means tomorrow I will quit. Tomorrow I will start my business. Tomorrow I will japa. Tomorrow never comes. The phrase is therapeutic without being actionable. It releases pressure without creating change. You say it on Monday after a terrible meeting. By Wednesday, you are submitting the report that made you cry. By Friday, you are laughing with the same colleagues you cursed. The cycle repeats weekly. And the performance! You announce "I no dey do again" to friends who have heard it forty times. They nod. They agree. They share their own versions. Everyone is quitting. No one quits. It is a national chorus of unfulfilled exits. But sometimes—rarely—"I no dey do again" becomes real. The person who actually resigns. Who actually starts the business. Who actually books the flight. They are the exceptions who prove the rule. The rest of us remain, saying "I no dey do again" into infinity. When did you last say "I no dey do again"? And did you actually do something, or did Monday come again?
