My own life taught me this lesson early. Immediately after my first degree, I found myself in Ibadan. Since my school would not mobilise us immediately for NYSC, my father encouraged me to pursue a one-year diploma at the University of Ibadan. At the same time, my brother introduced me to Tayo, a skilled fashion designer known for creating shirts that rivaled boutique quality. I went to his workshop to learn tailoring. My arrangement was straightforward: lectures in the morning, workshop sessions on selected days. Something unexpected happened. Through my campus exposure and interactions with graduating students, I began spotting opportunities. I proposed an idea to Tayo: What if we designed customised graduation outfits for departments? What if we marketed directly to departmental executives? What if fashion met organisation? That small idea became a thriving business. Departmental executives engaged us, orders surged, machines ran overnight, and everyone won (I made money). Ironicall...
Languages are fascinating. Sometimes, a single word carries an entire philosophy. In English, there is simply “father.” In Yoruba, there are Bàbá and Baba . To the untrained ear, they may sound identical. But anyone versed with the Yoruba culture knows they do not always mean the same thing. One may give you life. The other may raise you. One may introduce you to the world. The other may teach you how to live in it. And sometimes if grace allows, one man becomes both. The Blood Father: Bàbá Bàbá represents the biological father - the man whose role in the human story is as ancient as procreation itself. Long before modern medicine or schools, there was the act of continuation. There was inheritance. There was the quiet transmission of life from one generation to the next. Biologically, a father contributes half of a child’s genetic identity. He passes on more than cells: genes, predispositions, facial features, bloodline markers, physiological traits, and sometim...