Earlier today we stopped to check the car's tyre pressure with a road-side vulcanizer. As we slowed down, I noticed him tossing some garbage right in the middle of the road. “You don turn the road to your dustbin abi?” I said with a sarcastic smile. He mumbled some unclear response trying to explain his action away, while smiling back in a quiet admission of his wrong.

Five minutes later he was done inspecting and pumping the tyres that needed some air. We paid and just before we drove off, he appeared next to where I sat holding his trash in his hand—proudly confirming that he had gone back to pick it up. I didn’t ask him too.

When you're learning a technical skill like coding or design, people encourage you. But when you are trying to acquire performatory skills often perceived as innate, like me learning to dance ‘shaku-shaku’ in 2017, the response is ‘well-intentioned’ mockery.

This reaction comes from a deep-seated belief that some abilities simply can’t be learned. In recent Nigerian parlance, “if it didn’t dey, it didn’t dey”. So when you are trying, the observers, including your friends, rather feel embarrassed. They wouldn’t try to learn those things—like dancing, football, drawing, singing—and so why are you trying to force it?

But that leads us to the special, critical skill called shame, or being ‘shame-proof’. This is your ability to try to learn just anything—even when you’re ‘supposed’ to be born with it but you aren’t—while smiling through the mockery and forgiving them, for they know not what they do.

PS. Now I represent the groomsmen at wedding dance contests. But in 2017, you would have been embarrassed watching me try.

Many times the leader starts out as the first employee, brimming with passion and a love for getting the thing done — the core service itself. As the company grows, however, so do their responsibilities, forcing them to juggle their ‘true love’ with new demands. Eventually they start to use the assistance of other people, sometimes reluctantly. But what they must do is even harder — recognize the roles they can no longer excel at and fully replace themselves, no matter how painful.

What would make a leader evaluate themselves as not good enough for a role they established? Vision. When a leader becomes more consumed by the big vision and the excellence required to reach it, their ego shrinks. They become small, necessarily.

From that vantage point, clarity emerges: ‘I’m no longer focused enough to be great at this’ or ‘This person is sharper than me in this role; it’s time they take over while I focus on another component of the big picture.’

I am sure you have heard the saying, “there is no such thing as bad publicity.” But in a world where people no longer buy just because they know you exist, that popular quote may be due for a rethink.

As the internet, e-commerce, and social media gives people unlimited access to options, a bad reputation becomes a good enough reason to cut you off their consideration.

Popularity from negative controversy often grows due to curiosity, not admiration—people want to see ‘the bad thing’ this person allegedly did, the same way they watch a documentary about a criminal. Now we know to stay off!

Yes it is true that once you have the numbers, you can attempt to switch things up, but reputation is not a tap you just turn on and off. You will have to do so much, consistently, over time, to have any chance. And even then, the shadow of the original issue lingers, and comes back to mind anytime you slip.

Because we now know you, we may indeed buy from you in a moment of urgency, especially if you are the fastest or cheapest at that point, but we DO NOT trust you. And we won’t identify with you, let alone tell others. So, if there are any gains at all, it’s short-term and fleeting.

We all know it when we have met a person that seems driven by purpose, an experience that carries more meaning, or a business leader that seems to be chasing something bigger. And it is these ones who seem to care less about our money, that we are the most eager to give it to.

And so it can be tempting for us to want to ‘come up with something’ too, to be like them. But in the best examples, they didn’t just come up with something. They are being true to something.

Although simply wanting it is not enough, it is better than not caring. Those who don’t care, and simply want to focus on the obvious surface, miss out on the depths of human motivation.

The alternative to 'making something up' is discovering it—because it’s already there. You may just need to slow down, step away from your ‘workaholic factory,’ and take the time to finally SEE what you've only been looking at.

Inspiring people, conversations, books and retreats can help. For some, adversity, near-death experiences, or spiritual encounters have triggered the shift.

We create more impact when we go beyond the surface—when there’s a deeper motivation and a more compelling story. But the truth is, we don’t have to make this up.

As I sat on the thick wooden chairs inside the Christ Anglican Church at the end of the commercially active sawmill, I imagined the lives beneath the grey hairs and the bald heads that sprawled across my view. The creeds are followed by hymns that end with the long-drawn ‘Aamin…’ before a priest comes on the pulpit to reflect on the life of Coach Akinade, who was said to have accepted nonsense from no one!

We are at the funeral service held in the memory of my friend’s dad, officers of the Nigerian Army unmistakable in the car park and the light brown ‘Aso-ebi’ attires of the family unmissable. From his days in the military to becoming an athletics coach, so much was said about his integrity and insistence on high standards. Perhaps that explains why Mary finished with the first class she told me she would finish with on Day 1 in 100 level. At our off-campus Bible study with The Navigators, she would memorize the full list of verses that I still can’t fully recall ‘off-hand’ 10 years after.

I have always loved the Anglican Church and my boarding house school founded by the Ilesa Diocese gave me a closer view of the ordinances. Before I knew anything about graphic design or branding systems, I was always curious about the design of the cassocks — the coats the priests wore, and how they differed from Reverend, to Venerable, Very Reverend, Right Reverend, Most Reverend. Synod was a sight to behold, of beautiful order.

And there were the hymns. “Trust and obey… for there is no other way… to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey”, Reverend Fakankun would lead the student choristers as they slowly processed down the aisle while Soji and I did this thing called ‘parting’ with our voices. What a memory to recall as today’s closing procession held in the same slow, reflective motion. This time it included soldiers, with the casket wrapped in the National colors and a pair of military boots ‘hanged’ on top.

I remember the sermons back then were always a mix of everyday wisdom with some gospel to tie it up at the end. The priests who doubled as teachers took their opportunity to address our latest misdeeds from the classroom and dormitories, with warnings passed down this time from a holy place. It was still the same, but with the teenage dismeanors swapped with the adult ‘wickedness of the human heart’.

Stepping into an Anglican Church for the first time in many years, what touched me the most was neither a warning wrapped in the clothing of a life advice nor a headline from the good news that the gospel is. It also was not any of the reminders for us to imbibe the values Coach Akinade lived by.

It was something the priest said in passing — “Ojó á jìnà síra won”.

That was it for me. It’s not the first time I would hear that. Everyone says that when a Yoruba dies and I am sure he didn’t particularly write that as part of his sermon notes. In English, that translates to “may the days (of death) be far from one another”.

It struck me what that really meant, that all of us — the grey hairs and bald heads, the elegantly dressed ‘omo-olóòkús’ (children of the deceased), myself in the observation of events, as well as the baby whose mother just carried swiftly to the back of the auditorium as she cried for a pain she could not yet to put to words, the mother herself inclusive — have our dates of death right ahead of us at a time we have no idea of. All we could hope for, is that the next one doesn’t come tomorrow. Or even today.

Dead people attending a funeral. All of us.

Bye bye, Coach. You live on in our memories, till our own dates come.

We all agree that reality improves perception, but the reverse is just as true.

No one will argue that a product or person being good makes it easier to tell a compelling story about them. But if any of the world’s greatest things—including America as “the world’s greatest country”—serve as a valid reference, then we have seen, time and time again, that perception also improves reality.

While America factually boasts of the world’s largest military and leads on many other fronts, it is no coincidence that it is also the biggest storytelling machine, powered by Hollywood and some of the most influential media houses. The world doesn’t just witness America’s strength; it experiences it through movies, news, and cultural exports that reinforce its dominance.

Top Gun wasn’t just entertainment—it’s also an amplification of the legend of American military superiority. The Social Network isn’t just about Mark Zuckerberg—it fuels the perception of the U.S. as the place to be for any innovator watching from anywhere. The American Dream is a branding masterpiece, consistently attracting millions who believe in the idea that success is possible if they just make it to America.

While the examples reference recent history, this didn’t start in recent times. Long before America became a thing, let alone the leading superpower it is now, it was stories that first stoked the imagination of investors, inspiring them to commit resources to explorers ready to make the stories real. Marco Polo’s accounts of the East stirred European curiosity, and by the 15th century, myths of vast uncharted lands drove Christopher Columbus to set sail in 1492, backed by Spain’s Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand. These weren’t just stories about lands that already existed—they were narratives that created belief, mobilized resources, and ultimately brought entire new realities into existence.

Now, imagine if those stories had been completely made up with the sole intent of deceiving investors—only for the explorations to reveal the lie. The sailors would lose all credibility, causing more harm than good. So, for those who argue that doing the actual work should be the sole focus, they are almost correct—it remains critical. But consider the reverse: what if there was real potential ahead, yet no stories to inspire action? In most cases, the people we are trying to reach may never get the chance to experience our reality firsthand, making an objective judgment nearly impossible. We must be able to guide them to an assumption that something great lies ahead. And because we are committed to delivering on that promise, we can sustain and reinforce this perception over time.

Beyond validation, these stories also enhance the experience itself. A well-framed narrative sets expectations high, triggering a positive bias that makes people more receptive and more forgiving. They already expect greatness—so all that’s left is for confirmation bias to take over. Now, imagine telling great stories, and meeting it up with great work. Just imagine!

In the timeline of almost any great outcome, imagination comes first, then gives birth to real, tangible results, which are further refined and elevated through more storytelling. In other cases, it begins with action, as critics of ‘branding’ would prefer, but then gets fueled by stories and imagination which continue to combine with action to birth actual socio-economic greatness. A country, a company, or even a movement doesn’t just grow by working hard—it grows by crafting a compelling perception that inspires people to engage with it, demand more from it, and ultimately push it toward even greater heights.

Take NASA’s Apollo 11 moon landing in 1969 as another  example. President Kennedy’s 1962 speech, “We choose to go to the moon,” was more than a promise; it was an act of perception-building that rallied a nation and set expectations so high that reality had no choice but to catch up. The same principle applies to another defining moment in American history, just a year after—Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech. At a time when racial inequality was deeply entrenched, King painted a picture of a future of justice and equality. His powerfully crafted words, substantiated with ‘real substance’ — from bus boycotts to marches, community mobilization and policy advocacy — shaped a perception so strong that it moved people to action, forcing institutions and society at large to shift toward making that vision real. Both moments prove the power of storytelling—not just to reflect reality, but to shape it.

The trend runs through every facet of American life, including the tech startup ecosystem, with Steve Jobs’ Apple and Phil Knight’s Nike being references of the power of storytelling we are all familiar with, among several others. These visionaries made strong examples of hardcore excellence and obsession, but also carefully crafted presentations of their products that aimed intently at influencing perception.

Strategically selected and crafted stories that highlight the best parts and potential futures of any reality often go on to inspire more of the same. Perhaps a city is only partly clean, but it chooses to portray itself as a clean city while also doing the work. It consistently shares images of a clean city, tells the story of it’s committed cleaners and highlights the behaviors of everyday people it desires to see more of. Then, anyone traveling in prepares to be clean, and people living in the dirtier parts start to think there is something they are doing wrongly. “This is not who we are”, the stories make them feel. And what is real begins to bend towards what is portrayed, one properly disposed can of Pepsi per time.

The idea is that actual work has always worked hand in hand with depiction (perhaps a simpler term for branding?)—which may not always tell the full, real picture of today, but often inspires the reality to catch up by tomorrow. This is where many African founders and business leaders fall short—by focusing entirely on the core work and looking down on the craft of shaping perception as a dispensable tertiary effort. Or something worth doing on a second thought, but not with that much intentionality and investment. One may also argue that this has limited our excellence even on the substantial part. No grand stories, no extra motivation? Perhaps.

When African businesses invest more in depiction and perception, we can set something for everyone to look up to—both internally, to inspire teams to push for better, and externally, to shape customer expectations thereby driving demand, improving experience and retaining loyalty.

In conclusion, the businesses that win are not just obsessed with the core work and the problem they are trying to solve but also with how they present their mission to the world.

America has mastered the art of not only doing the work but also shaping perception in a way that fuels its continued reality. It’s time for African business leaders and startup founders who clearly put in the work (not sure I can say the same for our political leaders) to borrow from this playbook.

One of the seemingly-obvious-but-not-obvious insights I gained early as an entrepreneur is that it is better to find people who are already like the type of people you need in a job than to bring people in and ask them to be the type of people you need in a job.

At first read, you may wonder “that’s already what we do… we need a good engineer, we find and hire a good engineer”. The less obvious but more critical application of the thought however is on the non-technical capacities, which are usually the hardest to grow in people.

While you surely need a certain quality of technical skill to begin with, it is also the component of talent that is easiest to grow over time, with systems for knowledge acquisition, knowledge exchange and the sheer role of experience on the job. What is harder however is to make someone who doesn’t smile smile.

From being open to new ideas, caring about others, being driven, leading self… to being timely, communicating effectively, being proactive and more, it is wiser, for two reasons, to identify people who already come with some of these than to relegate them to the things you will bring out in them with your ‘team-bonding’ talks.

1. You are not a life school. You are first a business and your primary priority will always be in delivering your service to your customers in exchange of value. This means that the most natural force of growth your employees will experience is in the core service itself — the technical. While you can be an inspiring leader and bring in great coaches, you will hardly be able to spend enough time to deliver those missing soft skills.
2. Some competencies are best developed on a personal level. These soft, human, non-technical capacities are best built based from personal reflection, reading, mentorship and an eagerness to improve. While you can try as a business to institutionalize these as part of your people development, and you should, the best environment for it is personal. It is best if you simply for the people who are already doing that work on a personal level, and you then bring them on board to apply this alongside the technical capacity that you are ever primed to help them hone.

But why does all of these matter, to begin with?

Well, we are human above all things. And the most enduring great organizations are built by humans who are great beyond just the core service. It takes more than just the ‘core thing’ to be great colleagues within and partners with the customer. And you will need all of these for sustained growth and eventual greatness. A badass guy at coding or say accounting on your team who talks trash on other people, is disrespectful of women and is unwilling to share or collaborate with others will do today’s job but ruin your company in the long term. I think we already agree on this but it’s important to touch on it for anyone still asking that question of why.

What happens to the technically gifted but otherwise lacking employees you have already hired before reflecting on a thought like this? I will propose a 3-part plan of action — Clarify, emphasize, and model. Yes, nothing will beat getting it right with a hire who is already on the desired path, but this can offer some course correction.

First, take time to reflect on the values and traits that matter the most and ensure this is clearly discussed and documented. Then take every opportunity, day to day or week to week, to refer to those things, from meetings to teachable moments and when you are commending someone. Finally and most importantly, be the embodiment of these values and reward others who are making great examples, which we can imagine as a final fourth part of the plan.

Above all, next time you are about to hire a receptionist who you expect to smile and welcome people with great, positive energy. Find someone who already smiles and engages people with great, positive energy.

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I have always been somewhat of a rebel. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’ only gets me curious. And so when this conservative RCCG-born royal prince from a village in Osun became friends with my pan-African contrarian friend who hates fame and surely prefers not to be named, I was going to pick not only his admiration for African history which my school teachers forgot to tell me about (with Thomas Sankara easily becoming my own favourite), my response to his pan-African hairstyle was also going to be “why not?”.

Not that he ever asked though. Or cared.

Let me tell you one more thing about my friend before I continue — he will tear this article up with a long list of well articulated points of valid, constructive criticism. I write nonetheless.

Just before the COVID-19 lockdown, I began to keep my hair, which had always grown really fast as a kid but steadily truncated by my parents’ instruction whether in person or remotely. The lockdown made this easier and my locs (aka dreadlocks) journey began.

Apart from the core values of life, I have always contended with the endless list of what I consider surface-level norms I was taught directly and indirectly. I had dropped out of uni against popular wisdom, and now I was grooming what I knew might make my mother lose sleep. To me, she would be the one to blame for worrying about the minor instead of being grateful for a child who went on to become an employer of labour and not a ‘yahoo boy’.

‘Lol’.

To her, if it looks like a ‘yahoo boy’, like she believed it did, it’s as bad as being one.

Well, I didn’t care.

“I will be praying for you”

“Don’t waste your prayers, mum”

For 4 years and 10 months, I rocked my really beautiful locs, styled at different times in various forms to my confidence-boosting pleasure as well as the excitement and admiration of my growing fanbase of peers, clients and mentees. There was the signature Fá look with which I walked down aisles, climbed on stages and posed for endless selfies. It really did come together so well. My non-conformist self with this unapologetic look that I carried gallantly.

And those 5 years were so good! The pictures remain proof.

Then 2024 happened, with me failing in a major area of my personal life. When I got to the wall, I turned back and had to reprioritize everything, with two of my faith-based mentors having a significant impact on my life in my respective meetings with them in December. Two random meetings, no deep conversation per se, no ‘serious prayer’ but a transformation began in one and was clear in the other.

Now, I didn’t cut my hair because I suddenly became a ‘better person’ and let go of ‘bad things like the hair’. There was nothing wrong about the hair. It’s the most natural form of an African’s rich hair.

My mum will tell you a different version of the story but here’s what happened — I made so many drastic changes in my life in December 2024 that one midnight I woke up and looked at mirror, and the hair had become to me a symbol of the old version of me, which had now changed drastically. So while the hair itself was not one of the purpose-driven changes I was suddenly empowered to make, it had became a symbol of them. It became a victim of my change.

My change was not from bad to good per se. I believe I have always held onto a good number of good values. I simply raised my standards significantly, and the change (which still continues) was so drastic I needed a visual commemoration. Yeah… something like that.

Although I am a prince, the ‘Adé’ in my middle name has nothing to do with the crown. Adésóyè means “he who arrives to the chieftaincy”. The ‘A dé’ means ‘he who arrives’. On my journey, I continue to arrive. But for my locs, a journey was had.

“I will be praying for you”

“Don’t waste your prayers, mum”

“I told you I’ll be praying for you”.

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