Stereotype of a Nigeria Hacker

I have always loved the idea of being a hacker: the hoodie and dark room with green lines running across the screen, a lot of energy drinks, and probably a beautiful damsel lying on the couch(scratch that).

The lifestyle was so appealing and so ensearing while growing up. News about the Nigeria Prince scam became popular, shadowing the real hard-working Nigeria, bending their backs to prove there are more than the bad eggs.

With the popularity of scams like this, it became even harder to become a hacker, as you are automatically seen as doing something bad.

Everyone who I knew on the news as a hacker was seen as a bad influence and I was not to associate with them.

How could I know any better? I soon fell out of love with hacking and fell in love with literature, stringing words together and hoping with my words, my country shines bright.

The term Hacking holds a lot of meaning and one I will share not from the dictionary but from experience seen from the eyes of my myopic family, who believe their son will never be associated with anything evil.

And so the story begins.

I soon forgot about hacking and continued schooling, but down somewhere hidden in the crevices of my heart, I knew something was missing.

One evening, strolling down from campus to my hostel, I saw a group of students gathered around a table with that old Dell Latitude e6540 laptop writing codes and speaking in a hushed tone, and I was instantly intrigued.

I wandered over to them and asked what they were doing, and like an annoying mosquito disturbing a sound sleep, they brushed me.

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