Tolu knew poverty intimately, and poverty knew her by name. It was no surprise, then, that she had become a hustler who understood how to survive on these streets. But surviving in Isale-Eko was no child’s play, and so she laboured and toiled every single day.
At nineteen, she had become adept at managing the only legacy her mother left behind. She woke at 4:30 am to sweep the verandah that served as her makeshift kiosk, then hurried off to bathe in the public baluwe at the back of the compound.
Washing the beans and peeling the yams for her business were her favourite parts of the day. There was something about the calm of the morning, minding her own business while being folded into everyone else’s that made the day feel bearable. Watching the hustle and bustle as she set her own in motion stirred something in her, grounding her in a quiet sense of purpose
Today marked four years since her mother passed away, yet it still felt like yesterday. Tolu wasn’t even sure what it meant to grieve. To her, grief was a luxury, because if she allowed herself to sit in it, who would take care of her needs, her wants, her aspirations?
Was it her deadbeat father who would not even recognise her if she were to pass right in front of him today? Or her mother’s relatives whom she barely knows? Or the neighbours who are minding their own busy lives? Or her passive aggressive landlord whose gaze she has found lingered on her large ample bosoms for longer than necessary whenever she passed by him in the long corridor?
Oh well, Tolu has a solid life plan. She may have dropped out in SS2, but her mind remains sharp and aligned with her expansive vision. She knows she will sit for her WAEC someday; it is only a matter of time.
By this time next year, she will have saved enough to leave the slum. Life may not turn colourful overnight, but she refuses to sit back and let it keep taking from her. With audacity and intention, she will take back.
It has been over four years since she began saving on Ladda (getladda.com). Thankfully, she noticed the poster on Baba Ramos’s old Android phone when he asked her to help him call his son. The man, a retired teacher, lived alone. Rumour had it that his son enlisted in the army over twenty years ago and never returned. Sometimes she feels sorry for him; other times, she wonders if he had been as weak as her so-called father. Or would her own father one day come looking for her when she becomes successful? It seems less a question of if and more of when.
Up to 80% of her weekly earnings goes straight into her savings account. Her goal is clear: ₦3 million, and she is getting close. After sitting for her WAEC, Tolu plans to launch her food business in a new location. It is not that her current area is unprofitable; she simply knows she can earn much more elsewhere. She has already spoken with the omo adugbo, the area boys there. Experience has taught her that all it takes is a few notes slipped into their hands, along with a posture of humility, to secure her place.
The junction will be a perfect spot. It’s a popular bus-stop adjacent to the new private university that was recently established. There was also a Pentecostal church on the next street. Therefore by her calculations, she should be able to earn three times her current earnings. There will be plenty of customers.
Phew! Just four months to go. She had begun her countdown last month. And now, terrifying as it is, she is very much ready to begin life anew.
Although rent was quite expensive in the new area, Tolu decided to settle for a place in the church. She had spoken with the pastor and his wife, alongside the building caretaker. In return, she’d sweep the church compound every morning and keep the surroundings clean before going to bed. With her security now assured, it seems a fair price.
One thing about Tolulope Stephen, she’s going to figure it out. She may be young and life may have dealt her with its worst cards, but she never gets tired of making lemonade out of life’s lemons.
Eight years later
“CEO, Tolulope Stephen”
Every time she is about to step into her office, Tolu gently brushes her hand against the plaque on the door. She has truly risen from humble beginnings to the top—saving up to sit her WAEC later than her peers, and by just the second month of running her akara business in a new location, she had already begun investing ₦100,000.. Yes, she was held down by depriving herself of life’s pleasures for almost a decade. She had to live through discipline and on a strict budget. But hasn’t it been worth it?
She enrolled in the new private university with support from the church and now all she can say is, “Level up.” “Siri, play me Level up by Ciara.” It’s a good day. Her start-up has just secured a major contract with highly sought-after investors. Starting the day with her favourite song and a smile on her face is definitely proof that life is great or can be great again.
Get the Ladda app today to begin your investment journey. The only thing that is sweeter than spending money is spending your own money. Level up!
SHORT BIO
Azimat is a young woman in her early twenties and a tertiary-level medical student. She is as captivated by science as she is inspired by art. A passionate storyteller, she crafts narratives that explore coming-of-age journeys, diversity and inclusion, and family dynamics woven into broader societal intrigue, often set against the rich backdrop of Nigerian culture. Beyond her creative work, Azimat is a committed advocate for women’s rights, particularly in the areas of financial independence, gynaecological health, mental health awareness, and support for neurodivergent and disabled individuals.
You can find Azimat on:
Substack: @Azimat (:lazy writer)
LinkedIn: @Azimat Taofiq
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