(Coming Home #2)

When I left for Nigeria I thought I needed to learn how to rest. As I spent time in the country, I realised that I may need to learn how to work. But now, I think that, maybe, I’ve been looking at it all wrong.

Let’s rewind to the beginning.

You know you have a problem when you find yourself on a half finished rollercoaster, hurtling towards a gruesome end, and the only way to save everyone is to construct more track by building an integration between your company’s software and the Salesforce platform. That was the type of dream I was having in the weeks leading up to my highly anticipated Nigeria trip.

I don’t know when it happened, but my life had become consumed by my job. I felt like there was too much to do and never enough time. And while I was intentional about not working outside of office hours, my brain kept busy. My mind would drift to my assignments at all hours of the day, and work tasks became recurring characters in my dreams. I felt stagnant, trapped in this never ending cycle of work and sleep, constantly in motion, but never getting anywhere. I was overdue a break.

A proper break. Not the type of breaks some of my colleagues had taken where they still lurk in their inbox and reply to messages on Teams. I needed to shut my brain down and rest. That’s why when my trip to Nigeria would come up in conversation, I would jokingly say that there’s no wifi in Africa.

Given that I’ve spent a lot of my life correcting widely held views about the so called country of Africa, it felt weird to, albeit jokingly, be perpetuating a falsehood about the place. But it was a fun way of me setting expectations. Telling people that I was going to be unreachable for two weeks. It was also a reminder to myself that as I went on this holiday I was going to fully detach and re-learn how to rest. However, as I spent time in Abuja and experienced Lagos life, I found myself questioning whether I truly knew how to work.

For all that is said about Nigeria, one thing cannot be denied; ambition is rife in the nation. It’s the connective tissue that transcends age, tribe and class. The people I met were bold and boundless with their dreams, but it didn’t stop there; you could also see them actively making moves to try achieve them. In a country where you can’t rely on your government to serve your best interest or provide consistent support, you have to be wise. You have to move intentionally and strategically in your professional life. It was fascinating to hear people’s stories of how they got to where they are, witness what they were doing in the present, and find out their visions for the future.

It also challenged me.

People weren’t merely going through the motions of a 9-5, waiting for a better opportunity or retirement to come. They were exploring new ideas, trying out different ventures to see what would stick. Researching and getting as much exposure as they could into areas of interest, carving out their own professional paths, making opportunities for themselves. Their approach felt more dynamic and engaging, starkly contrasting the stagnation I’d been feeling. This all had me thinking that, maybe I’ve been doing this whole work thing wrong. Was it possible that I needed to learn how to both work and rest?

I’ve now been back in the office for a few weeks and appreciate the rest the holiday provided. I’ve realised that my current approach to work isn’t actually that dissimilar to that of the people I was meeting. Of course there are areas of improvement, but I think that I’m generally on the right track. Upon reflection, knowing how to work and rest weren’t the core problem, what I should have been questioning was whether I knew how to dream. That was the true differentiating factor between me and those I encountered.

It reminds me of this tale I was told about two boys walking through the streets of London. One was Nigerian and the other English. They stopped in front of a store and glance through its window. The English boy pointed his finger and said,

“One day I would like to be able to afford that pair of trainers.”

Then the Nigerian boy nodded in agreement saying,

“Yes, I’d also like to own those trainers one day” and glancing up to look at the building, he added, “and own the shop as well.”

People’s dreams in that country know no bounds and they don’t let set backs easily deter them. Unlike in the West where there is a general expectation for fairness and equality, people over there know that aspects of life are rigged in one way or another, but that isn’t a reason to relent. Instead it is an invitation to find ways to work around them. They don’t let anyone put a ceiling on their ambition.

Recently, my outlook on life had become more self-limiting and I’ve shied away from dreaming. Though I still worked hard and had goals, they didn’t stretch me in the way they once did. I felt that maybe it was a natural part of growing up, but it also had me feeling idle and restless. I let aspiration for the future be replaced by consumption in the day to day, and while there is a need to live in the present and take things one day at a time, losing an overarching trajectory can make things feel devoid of any real significance. This made me feel stagnant.

Being back in Nigeria was a much needed reminder of how essential dreams and aspirations are. They are a source of drive and energy, helping to purpose your life and give actions meaning. This then helps inform how you work and rest.

The next time I set foot in that land, I want my ambition to be as big and bold as the locals. It is one of the great strengths the culture carries, I think it’s something we all need to embody. And call me bias, but if there really was no wifi in Africa, I think that a Nigerian would still find a way to connect to the internet.