I never really understood what the saying " A moving man will one day meet his luck" until I met Mark, a young graduate from Federal University of Technology Minna who seemed to believe that he was never going to succeed staying in the comfort of his home and depending on his parents. So after graduating, Mark spent months applying for jobs. He sent CVs everywhere, no matter the State or city, he attended interviews and listened to people tell him, “We will get back to you.” Nobody got back to him.
One evening, he sat with his mother and announced, “Mummy, I am going to Lagos.”
“Lagos!?” she said, amazed
“Yes. Their are no opportunities here.”
His mother looked at him for a few seconds and simply said, “Just make sure Lagos doesn't finish you.” She knew that her sons dreams were bigger than this small town. Three weeks later, Mark arrived in Lagos with one suitcase, a degree certificate and enough money to survive for about two(2) months. He imagined himself working in a big office, wearing a nice suit and earning a salary that would make his friends back home jealous and his mother proud of him but Lo and behold Lagos had other plans. The first job he found paid barely enough to cover transportation. He spent hours every day fighting traffic, squeezed inside buses with fifteen other people while wondering how people actually survived Lagos permanently. One morning, after spending almost three hours on the road, he arrived at work late.
His boss looked at him and said, “You are late again.” Mark wanted to explain that he had left home before sunrise, but he knew his boss didnt care and his pleas fell on deaf ears. After eight months, he quit. “This city is draining me,” he told his friend. His friend laughed, “You came to Lagos looking for money. Lagos is equally after your sanity.” After much thought and prayers Mark packed his suitcase again. This time, Abuja, the capital of Nigeria. He arrived in Abuja believing things would be easier. The roads were better, the city was quieter and there wasn't the Lagos level traffic he had become used to and the people here he thought were much more posh. He found a job with a small company and finally began earning decent money. For the first few months, everything seemed perfect, then out of the blues, the company started struggling. Salaries became irregular and the boss everytime the workers asked, he came up with one excuse or the other. Eventually, the company closed down.
Mark stared at his empty bank account and laughed, nothing was funny but his life at the point. “Maybe Abuja is also not for me.” So he moved again, this time around he moved to Kano. Kano taught him something Lagos and Abuja had not. He started working with a businessman involved in agricultural trading. For the first time, Mark understood how much money moved through agriculture, especially between farmers, traders and cities. He had always looked down on the Northern states, especially Kano but he was humble enough to know that he did not know everything and was humble enough to want to learn from where ever he could. He learned about grains, transportation, storage and the frustrating amount of food that could be lost simply because farmers had nowhere proper to keep it.
After a year, he left Kano too. This time, Port Harcourt, at this point he was more of a tourist than a person looking for his dream job. By now, his friends had stopped asking where he lived.
“Where are you now?” one would ask.
“Port Harcourt.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Bro, you are like a travelling consultant.”
Mark laughed.
Port Harcourt was where everything finally began to make sense. He got a job with a logistics company and learned about transportation and distribution. He saw how businesses struggled to move agricultural products from one part of the country to another efficiently. Then he remembered everything he had learned in Kano and most importantly he had a network in Kano and had learnt to speak Hausa language, the most spoken language in Kano and the whole Northern states. The Farmers had products, the traders had markets and Transporters had vehicles and new the easiest routes to all the cities but somehow, connecting all three was still a huge problem.
One night, sitting inside his small apartment, Mark suddenly had an idea. “What if I create a platform that connects farmers directly with buyers and reliable transporters?” For the first time in years, Mark wasn't thinking about moving to another city. He was thinking about building something that everyone could access without having to move between cities. He started small, he contacted farmers he had met in Kano, traders in Lagos and transporters he knew in Port Harcourt. His first few months were terrible, he kept being knocked down. Some people didn't trust him, others refused to pay. A few friends told him to forget the idea and find another job but Mark kept going.
Eventually, the business began to grow, farmers were getting better access to buyers. Buyers were getting products faster. Transporters were getting more work. Marks company was slowly becoming the bridge between people he had spent years meeting across Nigeria.
One afternoon, he received a call from his mother.
“Where are you now?” she asked.
Mark smiled.
“Still in Port Harcourt.”
His mother laughed. “Finally!”
Mark looked around his office and realized that if he had stayed stagnant and stayed in his comfort zone, it would have killed him, maybe not literally but he would have been dying inwardly. Sometimes you have to keep moving because life is taking you somewhere you cannot see yet. Every place may leave something behind, you never know when youll need it and never you burn bridges between the past and future.
Images are A.I generated