Let me tell you about Akin, the boy from Mushin who learned that every scar has a story to teach.
Growing up, his family’s two-room apartment echoed with the sound of empty promises. His father, once a promising contractor, lost everything to gambling.
Each month was a desperate dance between school fees and food. Some nights, he’d fall asleep to his mother’s quiet prayers, her wrapper damp with tears.
The other children called him “pẹ́pẹ́” because he wore the same oversized school uniform for three years, patched and re-patched until the original fabric was barely visible.
Every morning, he’d walk past Better Life Academy, where the rich kids went, clutching his worn books closer.
Those were bitter days. Days when shame burned hotter than the afternoon sun. Days when poverty felt like a curse he’d never break.
But his mother would say, “Akin, experience na teacher wey no dey kill person.” She taught him to look at each hardship like a strict teacher, not an enemy.
So he learned.
From hunger, he learned the value of planning, saving a portion of his lunch money even when his stomach growled.
From watching his father’s mistakes, he learned that reputation takes years to build but moments to destroy.
From those patched uniforms, he learned that dignity isn’t in what you wear but in how you carry yourself.
Each time classmates mocked his worn shoes, he buried himself deeper in his books. “Let them laugh,” he’d think, “book no get expiry date.”
Today, Akin runs one of Lagos’s most successful microfinance programs, helping market women and small traders build sustainable businesses.
In his office, he keeps his old patched uniform framed on the wall. New employees often ask why a successful man would display such a thing.
“This uniform na my university,” he tells them. “E teach me say tomorrow no dey look face your yesterday.”
When he reviews loan applications, he doesn’t see numbers on paper; he sees stories. The market woman selling Akara reminds him of his mother. The young trader reminds him of his younger self.
“Your past hardships are like palm wine,” he tells his clients. “If you no shake am well, the lessons go sink to the bottom.”
In board meetings, when others see risks, he sees possibilities. Because he remembers what it’s like to be on the other side of the desk, holding nothing but dreams and determination.
See, life’s hardest chapters may be painful to read, but they’re often the ones that teach us our most valuable lessons. Like a broken bone that heals stronger at the point of fracture, our deepest struggles can become our greatest strengths.
Sometimes our scars don’t just tell stories of where we’ve been; they show us how to navigate where we’re going.
After all, in life’s school, experience is the teacher that gives the test first and the lesson afterward.
