Ask Chuka

  Growing up, our parents were protective, perhaps even too protective, keeping a close eye on the kinds of friends we kept. I remember many times when my dad would pull me aside to question me about someone he saw me talking with. He would ask, “Who’s that boy? Who are his parents? Where do they live? Does he go to school? What was his position last term?” If I really valued the friendship, I sometimes painted the person in such a bright light that my overly impressed father would begin his own investigations. But when my information didn’t add up, the verdict was swift: “I never want to see you with that guy again.” And just like that, I had to ignore someone I liked, no questions asked. Fast forward to today, I’m a father now, and somehow, without seeking permission, that same protective spirit has taken over me. One morning, while dropping off my boys at school, his class teacher complained that he and his friend Abubakar (not real name) were disturbing the class with football ...

  With Timothy, all you need to do is assign the task and say when you want it delivered. No follow-ups, no hand-holding, just the confidence that the job will be done on or before the deadline. Simple and dependable. Simon, on the other hand, though often considered more skilled, required constant supervision. If a task was due by close of business, I had to check in almost hourly to ensure progress. The work would eventually get done, yes, but at the cost of time and mental energy. While wrapping up my supply chain consulting engagement at Fredo Associates (not the real name), I recommended Timothy as the team lead for the supply chain unit backed by strong reasons. Management was surprised, as Simon appeared to have more skill. But for me, leadership is about more than skill, it’s about delivering results when they matter most. As expected, Simon wasn’t happy. He reached out with veiled accusations, saying he contributed significantly to the success of my work and that I paid hi...

A few years ago, I listened to a message by Bishop T.D. Jakes where he spoke about the high likelihood of ex-convicts returning to prison. This, he said, was largely due to the difficulty they face reintegrating into society. One major challenge is public acceptance. Many employers don’t want individuals with criminal records associated with their brand. Others fear that the ex-convict might relapse into old behaviours, potentially causing harm or bringing trouble to their organisation. While these concerns are understandable, Bishop Jakes advocated for meaningful reform during incarceration. He suggested that churches, manufacturers, and other businesses should create training programmes for inmates—equipping them with skills that will help them survive once they are released. The goal? To reduce the temptation to return to crime. A few days ago, while scrolling through social media, I came across a photo with a caption that caught my attention: President Ibrahim Traoré of Burkina F...

  The book opened with the story of a tech executive who made a lot of money and lived a lavish lifestyle. At a hotel, he accidentally broke a lamp. When told to pay $500, he felt insulted and paid $5,000 instead, declaring boldly that he wasn’t poor. But how long do you think that lifestyle lasted? Still in the introduction of The Psychology of Money , Morgan Housel tells the story of Ronald James Read, a man who fixed cars for 38 years and swept floors for 17. When he died, he left: $8 million to his stepchildren $6 million to his local hospital and library No lottery. No inheritance. Just quiet, deliberate saving and investing, one small decision at a time. That story changed me. The main lesson that struck my heart is this: “The end of a thing is better than its beginning.” It doesn’t matter how you start. What matters is how you finish. One of my biggest goals in life is to leave an inheritance for my children’s children, not one built on stolen wealth or envy, but on trut...

  I had the biggest laugh at work recently while talking to a colleague about some of the things I felt he wasn’t doing so well. He apologised and promised to put measures in place to improve — adding that working solo on those tasks was the main reason his deliveries had been inconsistent. Curious about helping him get better, I asked: “Name one person you’d like to work with. Someone detailed, knowledgeable, and reliable enough to ensure those indicator sheets are always ticked at the end of each task.” Omoooo! I was flabbergasted when he said Zion. I couldn’t hide my shock. Zion?! The same guy who sometimes forgets his own name? 😄 He’s good at his job, no doubt. But I’ve learnt to never speak to him without a pen and notepad in his hand — and even that’s no guarantee. So why Zion? After a bit of probing, the truth came out. Zion buys him shawarma all the time. He wasn’t picked based on capability — but on edibility. 😂 Let’s just say I didn’t approve that pairing. I suggested s...

  One of the essential items I always stock at home is coffee — specifically, NESCAFÉ 3-in-1 and Top Care by Nestlé. It’s almost impossible for me to run out. I love the feeling I get from a cup, so much that I can tell exactly how long my stock will last. (And no, I don’t use a tally card to manage my coffee inventory 😄.) But then one day, I made the innocent mistake of letting my daughter take a sip. I didn’t realise how much that moment would cost me — until she returned home for a short holiday. I had just enough coffee to last a week before payday. But one morning, I woke up, reached for my regular sachet... and found I was completely stocked out. Puzzled, I started retracing my steps: – Did I take more than I planned? – Did a guest use some? – Could it be Meme? No way. She’s too young for coffee... Of course, I restocked. But this time, I monitored the shelf daily. Day 1: An extra sachet missing. Day 3: Another gone. My prime suspect had been confirmed: My teenage daughter. ...

  I was struggling with my jalopy Honda on the road when a sleek Mercedes GLA pulled up. Out stepped Hassan — my old classmate and hostel mate from secondary school. Even before I saw his face, I knew it was him. How could I forget the boy who tried to bully me every day, especially during exams? Each time I refused to show him answers, he would scoff and say: “No be by brain or hard work, guy… we go see for main life.” Somehow, we both ended up in the same university — different departments, but his tone hadn’t changed. I remember in our first year, he met me on campus and laughed, saying: “Guy, I still enter here whether you gree show me maths answer or not.” We became friends, but I never lost sight of our differences. Hassan came from wealth. Money was never a problem. But I knew that if I followed him blindly, I could end up paying the price for mistakes I couldn’t afford. If he got in trouble, his family would bail him out. Me? I’d likely end up in jail. So, I gave myself sen...