10 Lessons Life Has Taught Me Between Nigeria and the United Kingdom

Growing up in a culture where relationships matter taught me the tremendous power of human connection. But age has taught me something else: not everybody around you is with you.

Some people love you. Some love your usefulness. Some love your position. Some love your connections. Some love the version of you that never says no.

The real test of a relationship often comes when you no longer have something to give.

I have therefore learned not to judge friendship by how frequently someone calls me when things are going well. I pay attention to who remains when there is nothing to gain.

One of the great lessons Nigeria taught me is how hard people can work. I have watched people wake before sunrise, travel extraordinary distances, run businesses under difficult circumstances and keep families functioning against unbelievable odds.

But I also learned that effort alone does not always determine outcomes. Two people can work equally hard and receive completely different results because one has better information, better positioning, better relationships or better timing. So do not only ask, “How hard am I working?” Ask: “Am I working on the right thing, with the right information, in the right place, at the right time?”

Sweat without strategy can become a very exhausting way of standing still.

Nigeria taught me that waiting for perfect conditions can become a lifelong occupation. Power fails. Plans change. Resources disappear. People disappoint you. Something you expected to take two hours suddenly takes two days.

Eventually you learn an important psychological skill: adaptability. You begin asking, “What can I do with what I have?” — and that question has followed me through life.

People who advance are very often people who have trained themselves to become solution-oriented under pressure.

Life has an extraordinary way of rearranging chairs. The person nobody notices today may be the person everybody needs tomorrow. The junior employee becomes the director. The struggling student becomes the employer. The person asking for help today may become the person capable of opening a door for thousands tomorrow.

That is why I have learned never to make dignity dependent upon status.

Character is revealed by how you treat people who cannot currently do anything for you.

One beautiful thing I learned from Nigerian life is the importance of family and community. We carry one another. We support one another. We show up.

But adulthood taught me that there is also a line every person eventually has to cross. There comes a time when you cannot blame your parents, upbringing, relatives, government, economy, childhood or opportunities forever.

They may explain part of your story. They cannot be permitted to write the ending.

Blaming circumstances gives temporary emotional relief because it removes responsibility. Unfortunately, it also removes power. If everything is somebody else’s fault, then everything must wait for somebody else to change.

Nigeria taught me to respect the small beginning. The little shop. The one-room office. The church that begins with a handful of people. The business operating from someone’s phone. The person learning a skill quietly. The dream nobody else understands yet.

We often admire success after it becomes visible and forget how unimpressive almost every great thing looked at the beginning.

Small does not mean insignificant. Sometimes small simply means early.