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The Profit And Pain Of Online Dating



Swipe left or right for love at first site? While dating apps make money playing cupid in cyberspace, some users have burned their fingers flirting with danger.

A serendipitous meeting at the gas station, a chance encounter at a bar on a rainy Saturday night or divine intervention during church service on Sunday…

This is certainly not how the millennial generation finds love these days.

American artist Julie Dillon says: “Our universe grants every soul a twin, a reflection of themselves. The kindred spirit, and no matter where they are or how far away they are from each other, even if they are in different dimensions, they will always find one another. This is destiny; this is love.”

But that was before dating apps played cupid in cyberspace. Today, the smartphone-obsessed generation would rather enter the world of dating online.

Love too has officially been disrupted. The once-taboo subject is an online trend and businesses are cashing in.

According to Statista, revenues in the online dating segment are expected to show an annual rate of 3.9%, resulting in a market volume of $1.6 billion. And for those confident enough to enter this world, it has its own lingo that you need to master first.

Ghosting, for example, is the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone suddenly and without warning or explanation, withdrawing from all communication.

READ MORE: The Watchdog Sniffing Out Deception

Breadcrumbing refers to the act of sending out flirtatious, but non-committal text messages (i.e., ‘breadcrumbs’) in order to lure a sexual partner without expending much effort. Zombie-ing is when someone you thought had ‘ghosted’ you shows up unexpectedly again in your life (usually through texts or social media).

Benching is when you start dating someone you think is nice and who has potential, but you’re not crazy about him or her.

Orbiting is the term attributed to a form of behavior where you’ve been ‘ghosted’, but the person who ‘ghosted’ you still engages with you on social media. The latest new word is fishing, a practice where you send messages out to a whole lot of your matches on a dating app, wait and see which ones bite and then you select the one you want to pursue.

The online dating vocabulary is just as varied as the number of platforms to go ‘fishing’ on.

Tinder is perhaps one of the most popular dating apps, with enough takers across Africa. The app has a simple user interface that allows users to share real-time photos as they chat with their matches and swipe left or right to select who they are interested in.

Other apps include Bumble, Grindr, Speedate, Benaughty, Are You Interested (AYI), Tagged, Ok Cupid and many more providing singletons a never-ending stream of possible suitors.

“Do you swipe left or right? That is all it takes to find that perfect someone on Tinder. There are billions of people in the world and quite frankly, it is very unrealistic to think that you might magically bump into the one you are destined to be with without taking matters into your own hands,” says Ola (who did not give his full name for privacy reasons).

He has been an avid user of dating apps for the past five years. During this time, Ola has been on about 20 dates and had two relationships that lasted six months and eight months.

“I turned around to leave and he pushed me back into the room and locked the door behind me.”

“It all started out as something fun to do with my friends. At the time, we were looking for nice girls to hook up with and the idea of having a selection of girls who are also looking for boys at the touch of a button was perfect,” he says.

A couple of years ago, you would be scammed for dating online. But according to Ola, times have changed. This is now one of the best ways to meet singles in your area in part thanks to Tinder. These websites and apps widen the choice and provide a convenient way to match people with their ideal mates.

“If you were to meet a girl in a bar today, you will have to spend a fortune on drinks for her and her friends and she will probably still not give you her phone number. Why waste your time meeting someone who is not even interested in you. With online dating, they get to see your picture, read a little something about you and get in touch if they find you interesting. By the time you meet, you are no longer meeting a stranger but someone you have been talking to for sometime,” says Ola.

The business is flourishing. According to “There are 40 million Americans using online dating websites and users range from young to old. Young adults account for about 27% of users, up 10% from 2013 due mainly to the influx of dating apps on smartphones.”

Computer keys with heart connected by a cable.

According to the Pew Research Center, the overwhelming majority of Americans suggest that online dating is a good way to meet people. Subsequently, more than 15% of adults say that they have used either mobile dating apps or an online dating site at least once in the past.

“There is no stigma attached to online dating anymore. Everyone is doing it: some people are lonely, some have hectic schedules so do not have time to meet suitable partners and many are just curious to see what they might find out there,” says Ola.

Online dating services are now the second most popular way to meet a partner. Another factor for the popularity of online dating is time. Online dating presents an effective solution by providing users the ability to browse profiles, which is not as time-consuming or scary as mixing with people in real life. According to Psychology Today, about one in five relationships begin online nowadays, and by 2040, 70% of us will have met our significant other online.

However, with the growing popularity of online dating, comes a darker side most people do not hear about.

It is 46 degrees in the residential neighborhood of Lekki in Lagos. The oppressive August heat hasn’t stopped my rendezvous with Miriam (real name withheld) this afternoon outside Harvest restaurant here.

“I first used Tinder three years ago. At the time, I had been single for about five years and after countless failed matching sessions from my friends, a friend introduced me to Tinder. I was initially hesitant but I decided to give it a try anyway. That is when I saw his profile,” says Miriam.

Her profile matched her to her ideal mate; a six-foot tall, dark and muscular man who had a well-paying job, loved kids and was ready to settle down within the next two years.

“He also lived on [Victoria] Island so it was perfect. We spoke online for about a month and moved the conversation onto WhatsApp and started video-calling each other. We finally decided to meet and he invited me to his place to meet his family for dinner. I was initially hesitant but he assured me his sister and her kids were also in the house so I had nothing to worry about. So I agreed,” says Miriam.

On arrival, she was warmly greeted by her date who escorted her into the house. Immediately, Miriam sensed danger.

“There were two other guys in the house and no sign of his sister or kids. I immediately felt like this was a mistake. I turned around to leave and he pushed me back into the room and locked the door behind me. One of the men held me down and they took turns to rape me,” she recalls.

The tragic ordeal has forever scarred Miriam. Her cries for help were heard by a neighbor who brought other security men to the house. Unfortunately, for Miriam, it was too late. The harm had already been done. The men were arrested and charged with rape and are currently serving 10 years for the crime.

“This is a serious problem that affects most of these women who look for love online. Even Uber drivers sometimes attack their passengers so you are really risking your life by meeting a stranger online. Most of these men lie about their profiles. They know what type of language will attract their prey and unfortunately, those who fall victim to this are sometimes very young inexperienced girls,” says Victor Oppong, a freelance investigative journalist in Lagos.

According to statistics from, there are about 16,000 abductions, 100 murders and thousands of rapes committed by online predators. Also, in 2011 alone, online con artists duped their victims out of more than $50 million in money and property.

“I did a story last year on a man who was duped into sending over $20,000 to a girl in London who claimed she was using the money to pay her debts and return to Nigeria to marry the man. He sent the money and never heard from the girl again. I always tell anybody who is using online dating sites to be very careful and only use trusted sites,” says Oppong.

According to research by Michigan State University, relationships that start online are 28% more likely to break down in their first year, than relationships where the couples first met face-to-face. And to make matters worse, couples who met online are nearly three times as likely to get divorced as couples that met face-to-face.

But no matter the perils of online dating, its popularity cannot be ignored. It offers something important for the millions of registered followers and that is the possibility of finding your soul mate in a crowd of 7.6 billion people.


Quote Of The Day



We have grown past the stage of fairy-tale. As women, we have one common front and that is to succeed. We have to take the bull by the horn and make the change happen by ourselves.

– Folorunso Alakija, Billionaire Businesswoman

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Quote Of The Day



“The best view comes after the hardest climb.”

– Unknown

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Covid-19 In Kenya: ‘We Are No Longer Dreaming’



Kamweti wa Mutu with his two children; Charlie, 11, and Adia, 8, with their Golden Retriever, Nalia, pictured at their home in Nairobi; image supplied

Kenya is perhaps one of the quieter domains of the global Covid-19 pandemic. However, as its hold intensifies across the country, Kenyans, from all walks of life, have found themselves not only preparing for the worst but also taking stock of the impact it has already had on their lives.

By his own admission, Musa Esevwe, a 49-year-old sculptor and entrepreneur, had never, in his life, experienced trouble with his sleep. That is until Covid-19 arrived in his hometown, Nairobi, in mid-March.

Within the space of a week, a national curfew was announced via Presidential address. Not long after, as confirmed cases jumped to 91, a partial lockdown was imposed around the Nairobi Metropolitan Area, restricting the movement of people in to, and out of, the city.

Travel was tightly regulated and international flights temporarily suspended. The few who do manage to make it to the country, by road or sea, must endure a mandatory two-week quarantine, at the border, before they can obtain official approval to proceed to their final destination.

Meanwhile, inside Kenya’s borders, lives changed overnight. Intensive lockdown measures severely hampered trading for both informal vendors and businesses, causing upheaval in some areas. In April, small business owners clashed with police over the forced closure of their establishments, in Nyeri, a busy provincial hub in Central Kenya.

Schools have been shut since March and, while official numbers are yet to be published, thousands have lost their jobs and livelihoods. Those, still fortunate to be in employment, have had to transform their homes into offices.

“It is like a very bad dream that we are living in now. The happiness and security we once had has gone… we are no longer dreaming, even for those who can still sleep,” says Esevwe whose own business, which was heavily dependent on the disposable income of the middle class and occasional tourists, has been destroyed by the pandemic.

Along with Esevwe, among the hardest hit are the nation’s families, who, for months now, have been confined to their houses.

The lockdown period has been particularly difficult for Kamweti wa Mutu, an international development professional and amateur nature photographer, living in Nairobi. Currently out of work, and with his wife, now the family’s sole breadwinner, stationed in Tanzania, he’s had to play multiple roles to keep his household afloat.

“The quarantine order [on March 13] was sudden, but commendably prompt, meaning it was a somewhat tough transition getting our two children; Charlie, 11, and Adia, 8, settled into home-schooling routines. After a week, we [had to] put our house-help on leave, with some pay, so as not to place [any] undue risk on either her or us,” he says.

Prior to the pandemic, Mutu was actively looking for work. However, the economic turmoil set off by the virus is now a cause for concern.

“I have struggled to find full-time employment for a while [now] but my family has been very supportive with understanding and prayers. The kids have a good grasp of this, in light of the pandemic, but it’s not [yet] getting them anxious. As a household currently on one income, this aspect is a grave one. Most worrisome is my wife losing her post [because of the pandemic], or worse, one of our family members falling ill,” he continues.

Perhaps the most traumatic impact of Covid-19 on the family is their separation. With travel into Kenya currently restricted, Mutu’s wife won’t be able to return until her consultancy with an environmental organization in Tanzania concludes.

When she does, it will probably have to be by road as international flights are suspended. After crossing the border, she’ll have to spend 14 days at a quarantine center, receiving a special permit to enter Nairobi only once she tests negative for the virus.

While this has added an extra layer of anxiety to their situation, the family is choosing to focus on the bigger picture, insists Mutu.

“We have talked a bit about this, and what it would mean for a normal life, even beyond the current situation. However, we have not delved deeply into worst-case scenarios other than how Covid-19 is devastating other families and societies. We have stocked up on enough essentials including non-perishable foodstuffs, water, face-masks, and power to last us a while.”

Elsewhere in the city, Sophie O, who asked that we change her name for this report, is also finding life under lockdown a challenge. The 30-year-old Marketing Manager works for a major multinational in Nairobi and is doing her best to adapt to the ‘new normal’ of being based from home.

“It’s been quite difficult especially because I have three children; a nine-month old, a two-year-old and a six-year-old. It’s been hard for the two-year-old to understand that I am ‘at work’, he keeps barging into [work] calls and expecting us to play. Now, I have to keep my camera off during conference calls although ideally, as a standard, it would have to be on,” she says.

With schools now closed, and most students across the country taking classes virtually, many parents, especially those with younger children, are burdened with the added responsibility of home-schooling. In this, Ms O admits that she is struggling.

“Personally, I’ve really done my best just keeping track with all the lessons they have to do. I think probably if I didn’t have to be ‘at work’, I could have done a better job in terms of being there for my daughter but it’s quite a challenge. You have to work because work pays the bills and work also pays the school fees,” she says.

Factors, firmly out of her control, are also impacting her productivity.

“The practicalities of working from home, like having a workstation, I have had to figure out. But with the internet… some days it’s good, some days it’s bad, and some days you have a blackout and there’s nothing you can do!” she laments.

The experience of both these families hints at the wider setbacks being faced by businesses and the Kenyan economy, as a whole. From Nairobi, Edwin Macharia, Global Managing Partner at multinational advisory firm, Dalberg Advisors, has been leading a fortnightly webinar series advising African leaders and policymakers on how best to respond to the ongoing crisis. He insists that they must appreciate the severity of the pandemic’s impact and act accordingly.

“Our job [on the webinar] is to make sure that [leaders] are sufficiently shaken and begin acting appropriately. China bought the world a couple of weeks to prepare and get ‘ahead of the curve’ in terms of intervention but, unfortunately, that jolt wasn’t hard enough in some places. This is very quickly moving from being a health concern to actually being an economic concern,” Macharia warned attendees in early April.

At the time, despite relatively low levels of confirmed cases, African economies were already feeling the pinch with stock markets plummeting and currencies devalued. A few weeks later, as the threat escalated, the UN Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) declared that a funding gap of $100 billion needed to be filled in order for governments to battle the pandemic, and its consequences, across the continent.

“The long-term economic effects will become more apparent in the coming months. Inputs not available locally will be inaccessible due to tighter border controls, while markets, for producers serving several industries, will be diminished, leaving many households without a sustainable income,” predicts Macharia.

If they are to have any hope of success, Macharia emphasizes that responses to Covid-19 in Africa will have to be a collaborative effort.

“Flattening the curve demands that governments, institutions, and business leaders are intentional in how they implement their response strategies. Organizations will need to go beyond [their] usual business continuity planning while the public sector needs to re-model institutions in order to slow down the current trajectory of infections while ensuring long-term resilience.”

An example of these wider response strategies are already at work in a number of Kenyan hospitals. Dr Michael Mwachiro, Secretary-General at the Surgical Society of Kenya, is currently stationed at Tenwek Hospital, a faith-based teaching and referral hospital in Bomet County, 230 kilometers west of Nairobi. On May 13, the county recorded its first Covid-19 fatality, at Longisa Hospital, the only public referral hospital in the area.

“We’re now seeing more community-transferred cases in Kenya. I think the advantage that we may have had [compared to] other parts of the world is that we were watching as things were unfolding and, because of that, we had a bit more time to prepare [as a country], and put some measures in place. But if you read the news, or listen to the radio, you’ll hear people complaining that we should have intervened earlier but that’s a difficult thing [to do] if you look at how many stakeholders are involved along with the nature of our economy and public health system,” he says.

Part of these preparations, Mwachiro says, included immediately training the country’s health workers on Covid-19 procedures along with introducing measures preventing the movement of people from hotspots in major cities into rural Kenya, where a bulk of the population lives.

“Nairobi and Mombasa already have containment measures in place. The bigger concern is that, if Covid-19 moves out of the cities to other parts of the country, the effects would be much scarier. These [rural] areas are where the older people are, who are much more vulnerable.”

In addition to the supplementary training for medical personnel, some elective procedures and non-essential surgeries have been put on hold so that all available resources can be committed to fighting the virus at hospitals. However, besides preparedness, maintaining the morale of doctors and nurses will continue to be an ongoing concern throughout the crisis.

“We’ll have to deal with the levels of anxiety and motivation experienced by healthcare workers and first responders taking care of these patients. Doctors and nurses are human, too, and they are experiencing the same emotions as everyone else. You can imagine that, in as much as [their] families are worried about them, they, too, are also worried about their families, and themselves, as well,” he says.

Some medical professionals responding to the crisis, in parts of the country, have had to make the difficult decision to live apart from their families as they work to contain the virus. But the taxing nature of their work, coupled with extended periods of isolation, means that counseling and support services will need to be made available to them as the cases continue to rise.

“We’ll have to deal with the levels of anxiety and motivation experienced by healthcare workers and first responders taking care of these patients. Doctors and nurses are human, too, and they are experiencing the same emotions as everyone else. You can imagine that, in as much as [their] families are worried about them, they, too, are also worried about their families, and themselves, as well.”

As it stands, Kenya, like most of the continent, has not been as badly hit when compared to epicenters in Europe or North America. However, this may be due to the fact that the worst is still on its way. In May, the World Health Organization estimated that up to 190,000 Africans may be killed by the pandemic, at its peak.

With Covid-19 due to exert immense pressure on our public health systems, it does offer some important lessons for the future, explains Mwachiro.

“What this outbreak has brought about, for us in Africa, is [the fact] that we need to invest more in our healthcare systems. This has been said so many times… there have even been a number of strikes [in Kenya] by various stakeholders, all of them trying to highlight these issues. This is a good wake up call. I honestly believe that, if we had spent more on health [before the crisis], it would have gone a long way in helping us to be better prepared. Hopefully, once this [pandemic] resolves, we can keep the momentum going and we can continue looking inwardly for solutions.”

Naturally, Covid-19, with its grim predictions and disruption of lives, has many Kenyans worried about the future. Nevertheless, the challenges of the moment are being met in stride. Families have quickly adjusted to new ways of living while their leaders seek sage advice on how best to address the crisis, and doctors continue to make sacrifices, day in and day out, as they brace for the worst.

Perhaps, most important of all is that, in the pandemic’s wake, hope has become an obstinate presence in all quarters of Kenyan society.

– Marie Shabaya

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