The Pursuit of Leverage

We lived in a small, worn-down house in Lagos, one of several tenants packed into a place that could not withstand the rain.

We experienced slow poverty, barely able to afford daily necessities.

It was not the kind of poverty that announces itself loudly.

It was the quiet kind.

The kind that creeps in slowly, month after month, until everything you own begins to disappear.

I watched my father, a hardworking man who believed in dignity, slowly lose some of the beautiful things of life that he had worked for, to flood.

I watched him borrow money from banks, from friends, from family, anyone willing to help, just to keep us from being out on the street.

Rent time was not just a financial event. It was a season of panic.

I could see the pressure on his face. I could hear the tension in his voice.

And sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, I saw him cry.

I remember watching my father kneel down in front of my school principal, a man much young enough to be his son, begging for time to pay my school fees.

I remember standing there, watching my father plead, feeling something inside me shift.

That moment stayed with me. Because in that moment, I understood something no child should have to understand:

"Hard work alone does not protect you from hardship."

Because my father actually worked hard, with dignity. And that realization forced me to grow up faster than my age allowed.

Would get home 7/8pm, and my mum would question me, but I couldn't tell her I was trying to make money.

During holidays, I worked in a sachet water company, 'Sparklett', for 2500 per day, 6am – 9pm.

For the first month after secondary school, I worked at a children's clothes store. 1500 per day. 8am–8pm.

Responsibility became my childhood. Leadership became my survival instinct.

And then came my investors. The pressure became unbearable. The phone calls became relentless. The fear became constant.

One day, the police was on their way to my house to arrest me.

The panic on my mum's face. The shame on my sisters' faces. The helplessness on the whole family.

I called my mentor. Desperate for help.

He stepped in. He spoke to the authorities. He gave me ALL the money to settle the immediate crisis.

Took me over 8 months to repay my mentor the loan.

His intervention that day saved me. But the emotional damage was already done.

That season broke me in ways I had never experienced before. There were nights when I questioned everything. Nights when the weight of failure felt too heavy to carry.

I reached a very dark place mentally during that time. But even in that darkness, something inside me refused to give up.

So I kept working.

The first time I truly experienced leverage was when a brokerage company paid me to promote their brand.

All I did was create content.

One video. One post. And I earned money.

Not from labor. Not from hours. But from influence.

That moment changed my perspective forever.

I hired leaders. Not just employees.

I built departments. Not just tasks.

At one point, the organization ran for months with minimal daily involvement from me.

That was the power of leverage.

But even then, I made another critical mistake. I stepped back too far. I assumed the system could run without my presence. I assumed the brand could grow without my visibility.

And slowly, the market forgot. Engagement dropped. Visibility declined. Momentum faded.

The world is unfair. But success becomes predictable when you learn to leverage:

Relationships. Technology. Systems. People. Knowledge.

Beyond income. Beyond hustle. Beyond survival.

I want to show young people, especially those who grew up in environments like mine, that there is another path.

You do not have to struggle endlessly. You do not have to depend on luck. You do not have to wait for opportunity.

You can create leverage.

And once you have leverage, effort begins to multiply. Time begins to expand. Results begin to accelerate.