Time

After Paystack, I took a travel break, spent a lot and didn’t make a dime. The last time I’d gone without a salary was secondary school.

As those months came to an end, the importance of regular income became painfully obvious. No amount of static wealth is enough, and ultimately, the value of money is the ability to control my time.

Before this, I was laissez-faire about money. It’s always come to me. But if I can’t control my time, then none of this is worth it.

And not just that—in taking responsibility for raising a family, my life has become about more than just me. This, as it turns out, is an incredibly effective reason to become more intentional about the hustle.

Family

At first, Princess and I managed money separately.

As we got closer and eventually moved in together, it became unclear who should handle what and where the money for different things should come from. So we decided to have a single pool of money and a single system to run from.

What each of us owned before is still available to the family. But what we’re saving and building now is a together thing. Fresh start.

A few mental models have come to define this era of money for me:

1. Don’t depend on lumpy income*
2. Predict and prepare for expenses
3. Invest as a habit, with no short-term expectations

Reliable income arrives on a schedule and can be planned against. Lumpy income—equity, project work—arrives whenever it arrives.

System

All our income is split into three buckets:

1. Fixed expenses
2. A sinking fund
3. Savings and investments

Fixed expenses

The first bucket is for expenses we expect to happen regularly.

This includes our personal budgets, family support, house expenses, food, groceries and other recurring spending. Everything is earmarked in advance and we review the expenses roughly every quarter.

Each stream of income should be enough to cover this bucket.

Sinking fund

The second bucket is for large, predictable expenses that don’t happen every month: travel, rent, service charges and other one-time payments we can reasonably predict.

Rather than wait for these expenses to arrive, we gradually put money aside for them. The distinction is essentially recurring expenses versus predictable but non-recurring expenses.

The sinking fund turns large future expenses into smaller present ones.

Savings and investments

Historically, I haven’t built my wealth through investing, as most of it has come from equity in things I’ve worked in. So it’s been nice to start thinking about growth as a family.

We invest in pretty much two things: high-yield savings and ETFs.

Essentially, keep money with the best bank and bet broadly on the economy. It’s more about the habit than the returns.

Speculation

Once the three buckets are covered, additional income can go towards more speculative investments or trading.

We’re approaching this playfully, but the process is still deliberate.

First, we find information. We like to understand how people who invest think and what they pay attention to.

Second, we develop a thesis. Whether it’s a stock or crypto project, it’s helpful to lead with a belief system.

Third, we give the thesis time to play out. Time is one of the most important ingredients in wealth-building.

Finally, we automate. Using custom-built software, we can act on our thesis without constant manual intervention: dollar-cost averaging, price triggers and time-based rules.

This is my favorite part because I don’t enjoy watching charts.

This category also includes non-financial speculation, like art.

In summary

Time is the goal. Healthy income is the foundation. We predict expenses and constrain our resources. Savings and investments turn surplus income into wealth. Riskier investing only happens after the other layers are covered, and automation makes it fun.

The point is to protect our way of life. A clear financial system is necessary for alignment, so we can take risks and have more control over how we spend our time.

Previous essays

• Money 2025
• Money 2023
• 2022: Money II
• 2022: Money

When I left Paystack, it was to reclaim my time, challenge myself, work differently and expand. I did all four.

Here’s the best articulation of why I’ve quit again.

1. I got what I wanted

I travelled for six months and took a proper break before getting back into work. Deciding to get a job in New York was a result of one of those trips.

I found a startup in an industry that was strange but familiar and jumped right in. On my first day, I had to figure out the password to my own laptop, which I found very endearing.

Starting again was a personal challenge. I got to build again. Working with non-technical founders also helped me appreciate all the other work that goes into building a company.

2. I finished the job

When I joined, it was just two other engineers. Similar to the early days of Paystack, but also very different.

I did pretty much the same job again, but in record time. I built the brand and product experience, documentation, internal tools and compliance systems from scratch. I learnt how stablecoins and global banking rails work. I hired and built an engineering team that can operate without me. I helped get compliance and marketing on their feet.

We grew transaction volumes from $0 to $1b in just about 9 months of completing the product, and the next phase of the job was to become a manager. I’m not ready for that yet.

3. It was time for a new mission

There’s so much happening in AI that I’m curious about. Agents are changing how we use software and how software itself is made.

Those interests weren’t as important for HIFI yet, but they are for me. I want to be in the middle of this change, and so we’re here.

I start a new job next week.

Wish me luck.

I started the project because booking a flight seemed like exactly the kind of problem an agent should solve.

Currently, our assistants help with travel. They search different websites, put the best options in a doc and send for review. The work is repetitive, the objective is clear and most of the process happens in a browser. I thought - surely, this can be automated.

I spent the last few months trying and didn’t succeed, but I got far enough and decided it wasn’t a problem worth solving.

Browser control

My first approach was browser control. I wanted Captain to visit the same website as we would, search for flights, compare the results and eventually complete a booking.

General-purpose coding agents can do some of this now, but I wanted to understand what it would take to build the capability into my own software. That took me through agent frameworks, tool interfaces, memory, long-running jobs and the different ways of getting structured information into a model.

Captain also became an experiment in how much software I could make with coding agents. I used Codex heavily, tried different models and kept increasing the complexity of the idea. I explored conversational interfaces, built a visual workspace to sit alongside the chat, and used HyperFrames while trying to make a film about the product.

The project was useful as a reason to touch all of these things. But every new capability also made Captain more complicated than the simple automation I had imagined.

Inventory

The first hard problem was inventory.

A person can search several travel websites and use judgment to reconcile the results. Software needs a dependable source of structured data. I tried browser searches, web search and a Codex worker that searched the internet in the background. Some of it worked, but none of it felt dependable enough to build a public product around.

Eventually I got good flight data from Duffel. The results were useful and the prices were competitive enough to keep going. Captain could search immediately with Duffel, then use a slower internet search to look for alternatives.

Getting reliable results did not make the product simple. It exposed the operating cost of continuously searching and storing them. In one early test, 16 trips created more than 11,000 flight records in 24 hours. I had built a system that could watch everything, so it tried to watch everything.

I redesigned the worker to search less aggressively. Matching trips shared results. Distant flights were checked less frequently. Captain kept a compact price history and only sent a message when something changed meaningfully.

One flight

I narrowed Captain down to a single job: track one flight until departure.

You could describe a trip in Telegram using text or voice. Captain would resolve the airports and dates, ask for whatever was missing and build a complete brief. A dashboard showed the search activity, preferences, options and price history. Every day, Captain checked the selected flight and returned a buy or wait verdict.

If you wrote in another language, Captain would notice and start replying in it — daily alerts included. There was nothing to configure. It picked the language up from the conversation itself.

The dashboard also kept a summary of the activity: tracking started, a flight selected, the plan changed. Meaningful checkpoints, not every chat message or search refresh.

This mix of conversation and interface was one of the most interesting parts of the project. Chat was good for expressing intent, especially for trips with several cities or fuzzy dates. The interface was better for comparing options and changing decisions. Neither was enough on its own.

I put the product into beta and made the Telegram bot public. Captain could talk about travel, plan a complex itinerary and track prices. It didn’t book flights or hold passenger records. Booking and payments would come later, once I trusted the recommendations.

To enable actual bookings, I’d have to reach out to Duffel. Until then I had mostly been asking whether I could make the software. Now I had to decide whether I actually wanted to turn it into a product.

Dependability

I underestimated how much work it would take to make a conversational agent feel dependable.

Captain often understood a request, but occasionally just did the wrong thing. It might ask for something the user had already provided, make a bad assumption about a date or fail halfway through creating a trip. Each mistake would send me back to Codex: read the conversation, work out what went wrong, change the prompts or tools, deploy, then try again.

I built an admin to watch conversations, jobs and model costs. I added automated conversation tests and a daily review that inspected failures. Both Captain and Pilot had repair loops: when a test failed, another agent investigated the problem and proposed a fix.

This was fascinating, but also frustrating. I could keep improving individual failures without feeling like I was in control of the whole system. A repair loop did not remove maintenance. It created another system that needed to be watched.

The trial-and-error process is manageable while learning. It is less appealing when the result handles real itineraries, changing prices and eventually people’s money.

The product question

Captain didn’t have proprietary flight data. It was taking information available elsewhere and placing a conversational layer over it. Meanwhile, the general-purpose chat and coding tools I was using to build Captain were getting better at searching the web and controlling browsers themselves.

That made the value difficult to defend. Captain was not as broad or as capable as a general chat app. Its specific utility was checking a price every day and telling me when something changed. That was useful, but not useful enough for me to keep operating the product.

More importantly, it was not better than the human experience I already had. I still preferred sending a trip to my assistant, reviewing a considered set of options and knowing that a person could use judgment when something unusual happened.

Yesterday, it got another conversation wrong and I decided to shut it down.

Pilot

With Captain gone, I can focus on my personal agent, Pilot. It’s the bookmark-reading, Telegram-speaking, Pi-hosted result of all this exploration.

If I was working on a team paid to build a travel agent, I’m sure we’d be able to get Captain to work. But as a side project, I couldn’t hack it.

Was fun though.

The agent is now usable: t.me/captainflightbot

You can talk about travel, watch flight prices, or plan for a trip. It can work through complex itineraries, e.g.

I’m going to Paris in November for a wedding from Nov 4–8 and a birthday in Marseilles on the 14th. Then I have a panel in New York on Dec 10, and I want to spend Christmas in Lagos. What’s the cost looking like for max one-stop flights.

You can plan one trip at a time. Send text or voice in Telegram, and use commands for quick actions. There’s also a visual workspace to browse agent activity, set preferences, or change decisions.

I made a website to explain: moonlight.ng/captain

Observability

I’ve also built an admin for tracking agent costs and conversation.

Feels like this is just the beginning of the software and it only gets better (and more expensive) through use. That’s always kind of been the case, but the architecture of LLMs makes it clear.

Pilot’s body

The Raspberry Pi already keeps a cold mirror of Pilot’s code, memory and database. Now it also has a small e-paper status screen.

• Refreshes every five minutes: time, Pi capacity, memory mirror freshness
• Day’s calls, tokens, cost and failures across Pilot, Curiosity and Concierge
• Never displays memory, prompts or conversations
• Sleeps after each refresh; the image stays visible

I’m also designing/printing a case.

I’ve been refining my curiosity finds on Telegram.

• Every share is recorded to Supabase
• I can thumbs up or down in Telegram to give feedback
• Integrity gates block duplicates, changelog spam and near-copies
• Articles are shared hourly and I give more feedback

I fixed an issue with discovery so I’ve been getting really nice recommendations. I sync the curiosity journal to my computer twice daily via a launchd job, so I can browse Pilot’s reasoning in Obsidian.

Captain: one flight

Captain is now in beta:

• Focused on tracking a flight
• One active trip, one watched flight, checked daily until departure
• No booking, payments or passenger records — just price history and a buy/wait verdict

Try now: moonlight.ng/captain

Observability

I have two daily automations running for maintenance.

07:00 · Curiosity (Telegram)

• Reviews the previous day’s study runs
• Writes a private journal
• May update research threads and interests
• Sends up to three article picks

07:15 · Agent Review (email)

• AI Gateway cost
• Job health, traffic and handoffs
• Verified self-repairs, when any shipped

Conversation principles

I’m also reading the book “Conversation Design” by Erika Hall and building a skill for my agents based on it. The principles are:

• Cooperative and goal-oriented — advance the user’s goal, don’t expose the machinery
• Context-aware — don’t re-ask what’s known
• Quick, clear, turn-based — one coherent turn, then yield
• Truthful — accurate about capability, state, and results
• Polite and error-tolerant — respect time, preserve valid input, make recovery easy

And then slowly, slowly, wade back up for air.

Both Captain and Pilot now have repair loops.

Every day, a test checks whether each agent is still doing its job. If something breaks, another model digs into what went wrong, proposes a fix, and waits for me to approve it.

This is alongside whatever I change from using them myself.

Agent goals

I’ve narrowed the agents down to specific functions.

Pilot runs a curiosity study: it reads my bookmarks and a fixed set of feeds for things that match my interests.

Captain tracks upcoming flights and reports the best options and price changes.

Pilot: Curiosity study

Curiosity study is Pilot’s reading loop. Every two hours or so, it goes looking for something worth paying attention to.

I keep a public Raindrop, which makes it easy for Pilot to track my interests and pull RSS where it exists. The core sources include Aeon, The Marginalian, kottke, Dense Discovery, Robin Sloan, Apartamento, and my own Substack. Rolodex expand runs weekly and can add new feeds when they match my interests.

It also reads my website. When it digests one of my essays, it updates its notes on how I write and what I care about.

Separately, it can ping me on Telegram when it finds something good. A few messages a day at most, and only when something is actually worth sharing.

Captain: Price tracking

For now, Captain tracks flight prices. It doesn’t book. Inventory is still the hard part, so I’m keeping the product focused on watching routes well before I trust it to recommend a purchase.

I originally set up a Codex worker to find results, and although it worked, it was a bit hacky. Once I decided to make Captain open, that system stopped making sense. I tried OpenAI web search against a curated list of sites, but that never got reliable results. So I decided to focus on the tracking experience first.

What next

Over the next few days, I’m going to keep testing both agents and see what the repair loops actually ship. Then I’ll open Captain up for anyone interested to test along with me.

In the first chapter, I argued that work is fundamentally about people: organization, collaboration, sustenance, community, ambition. In this world of LLMs, it’s interesting to revisit that idea.

This world of LLMs

gen·er·al·ist’s high n. the ability to get a broad range of tasks done when paired with an LLM.

In a typical day, whether it’s building an internal application ✈️, generating a design system ⛴️, or building a web page 🕸️ for a product launch, I’m usually floating across product, design, engineering and whatever with the triplets (Codex, Claude and Cursor).

It does seem that I spend more time in my own head.

My last feature was a trip dashboard, with a worker that tracks prices over time. Instead of searching once, it watches routes and tells me when something better appears, or when a flight I’ve already picked changes meaningfully.

The interesting part was mixing conversation and interaction design. The experience starts in chat, then moves into a GUI where you can browse, compare and manage what the agent has gathered.

I got two main feedback points.

The first was local flights. A few people said existing tools fall apart on regional routes, and someone pointed me at an Amadeus CLI.

The second was simply: how can I use this?

Pilot and Captain

I’ve now split out my personal agent from the flight booking agent.

What used to be Captain is now Pilot. It keeps my memory, runs the daily loops and handles Concierge. Captain is a separate, public travel agent.

They both live in a monorepo now, with different apps, databases, Telegram bots, instructions and secrets. Pilot can create a Trip in Captain through a small signed bridge, but Captain has no access to Pilot’s private data.

Conversation quality

Captain works through Telegram. I can describe a trip in natural language, by text or voice, and it resolves the airports, dates and sensible defaults. It asks for whatever is missing, then presents the complete brief for confirmation.

If someone says “find me a flight from Lagos to JFK,” it should notice the dates are missing and ask only for that. If someone says “I want to fly the last week of August,” it should infer the year, pick a sensible range, figure out whether they care about cheapest or best, and confirm — instead of making them specify every parameter by hand.

This concierge layer needs more intelligence than I expected. I originally switched to an open-source model to reduce costs, then quickly realised I was paying for it in conversational quality.

Building this has become an iterative loop of forming theories, testing them, watching the agent say something obviously wrong, refining the prompts, and trying again. It’s surprisingly exhausting, but also fascinating. Every mistake teaches me something about how these systems work.

I also need a better testing setup. Right now I manually send messages and see what happens. Soon I’ll set up automated conversation tests that throw realistic requests at it and check that it responds sensibly. That feels essential if I want to improve behaviour without constantly introducing regressions.

Tracking

My original worker ran continuously until the free Supabase plan hit its limits. From 16 test trips over 24 hours, it created over 11k flight records.

Automation creates the temptation to keep everything, monitor everything and process everything. Designing agents that are intelligent while remaining computationally disciplined feels like an important constraint, not just a budgeting exercise. Cost is a proxy for efficiency.

So the first check now searches a broad set of combinations. Later checks focus on the strongest option and a couple of alternatives. Trips far in the future are checked less often, then more frequently as the departure gets closer.

Matching searches are also shared. If two Trips need the same flight data, Captain makes one provider request, stores the result once, then ranks it separately for each traveller’s budget and preferences.

Captain keeps a compact price history and sends an update when the first results arrive, a price drops meaningfully or a stronger itinerary appears. It doesn’t need to send a message every time it looks.

Next

I’m still refining Captain until I trust it enough to recommend flights reliably. It should search across multiple providers, return strong recommendations quickly, and feel natural to use.

Next, I’m going to put it in the hands of a few people and see how well the recommendations hold up. After that comes booking.

The data problem is now kinda solved, so I’ve been designing what the experience should look like for the flight agents.

Chat isn’t good enough as the sole experience, so I’m going to build an interface for exploring what the agent is doing.

In the app, I provide a brief — parameters of the trip, the flight, how many people, etc. The agent will then search for flights, recommend options, and I can curate from there.

Captain

Right now Captain is quiet. I’ve run out of credits, so no trading or curiosity study. I’m leaving it this way for a bit.

PS: LLM credits are interesting because they provide a really direct way to quantify the cost of software in real time.

Hardware

I got the screen for the Raspberry Pi, but I need a cable to get it working. I also bought some spool for 3D printing, so I’m starting to design the case.

My idea is a single handheld device: a button on one end and a the e-ink screen in the middle as a “face”. Hold it like a pebble, push the button to do something, see results on the screen.

We’ll see how it goes.

Booking a flight

I compared Skyscanner, LetsFG, Duffel, Claude and Codex for bookings.

Duffel was with good but more expensive than Skyscanner. LetsFG was even more more expensive and not as reliable. Claude answered quickly but only gave an overview. Codex was much thorough with its answers but slow.

Timi already asked me to consider using Codex CLI in my setup, so I set it up as a worker. When I ask Captain to search a flight, it uses Duffel to respond immediately, then queues Codex to search the internet for answers.

New architecture

I also switched the agent runtime to Vercel’s new “Eve” framework. Sort of like Next.js, it’s Vercel’s idea of how agents should be organised.

Captain is now one Eve application running as one long-lived Fly machine. All services and tools are connected through Eve’s interface. I moved out the memory from Supabase into markdown files on the server, retaining Supabase for Workflow and operational data.

The Raspberry Pi is still just a cold mirror. It syncs memory, code and operational data to the drive, but is not involved in processing.

Data

I believe self-hosted open weight models are best for everyday agents, since the durable thing is the structure that holds data and code (harness).

I bought a small Raspberry Pi to make this durable layer physical. It keeps a local Supabase instance, plus a synced copy of the repo. I can SSH into it from my computer, browse the data in Supabase Studio, and sync a read-only copy of the cloud database.

Following Timi’s setup, I also installed Tailscale on both computers. They can connect securely without being on the same Wi-Fi network.

A flash drive attached to my computer can probably a similar job, but I chose the Pi because I can extend it. For example, I’m going to design and 3D-print a case.

Goals

Captain now has a short goals file that defines what the agent should remember, study and do.

In summary: keep useful memory, stay close to my thinking, act through trusted tools and run careful experiments.

The current jobs are:

Learning

• Curiosity study reads my essays and RSS feeds to discover new interesting ideas.
• Rolodex expand scans my sources every week and adds new feeds that match those interests.
• Liveness chats with me randomly to develop character.

Self-audit

• Biodata sync reads new website notes every day and updates my biodata if needed.
• Skills audit looks for newly relevant agent skills and emails the good matches to me.
• Token usage review review daily token usage across agents and loops.
• Daily review journals the previous day, refines my profile and interests, and sends a morning note when there is something useful to say.

Finance

• Trading runs cautious Solana trading experiments within set risk limits.
• Trading outcome review trading hypothesis and learn from result.

Next

I think my hardware itch is scratched for now, but I’m still looking to set up open-weight inference. I’m working with a friend who runs cloud infrastructure from Nigeria to put up a small CPU/GPU cluster and try it out. Until then, I’ll get back to the flights problem.

Captain

Captain is my core agent. It keeps context about me and follows my interest through daily loops. It’s model agnostic and relies on its harness and tools rather than weights. I chat with it through Telegram.

Core goals:

• Maintain useful memory: biodata, location, profile facts, interests, voice, reading, sources, and daily journals.
• Stay close to my thinking by reading published essays, website notes, and curated external sources.
• Support concrete actions — email, searching opemipo.com, updating memory, reporting data and events.
• Run controlled Solana trading experiments and share learnings.
• Control data access for other agents.

Concierge

Concierge is a surface agent on my website for public chat. You can ask it to search the site, answer a question, or reach out to me via email. When a guest asks Concierge to reach out to me, it validates the request and sends me a link to the conversation. If I join, the conversation switches to a live chat.

Try it: opemipo.com/chat

Architecture

Captain is a Docker instance hosted on fly.io. It’s on a single shared CPU with 512MB RAM.

Concierge is a Vercel function that runs on my website. It’s able to use the site’s content freely, but relies on Captain for memory and tools.

Supabase is the shared persistence layer. It stores private memory and event records for both agents in distinct captain_* tables and concierge_* tables.

I’ve also built some basic tools into Captain:

• Vercel AI Gateway for model calls
• Telegram as interface
• Resend for email delivery

Vision

First time I did this, my goal was to have it book my flights.

So that’s the plan.

We had a simple marriage ceremony at the Islington Town Hall, followed by lunch at Elephant.

We later hosted friends at Hare & Hounds and closed the night at Koko.

It’s a Wednesday evening in FiDi.

We’re fresh out of a dive bar, and decide to stop at a bookstore.

Princess and I enter the store and split.

I’m down the aisle considering a small-ish title on the history of AI when she calls out to me.

Look! Pemi’s book!

The cashier looks up and smiles. “She’s upstairs.”

Her books are curated upstairs, I think.

He calls out again, “She’s upstairs, signing her books.”

As it turns out, Pemi was indeed upstairs signing her new book, One Leg on Earth. Unimaginable serendipity. Especially for a city like New York.

Fade to black.

Scene two.

We’re in Bushwick with Emy, at the last bar of the night.

The crowd feels very trendy. Few Blacks.

I’ve just picked up our order of drinks, only to learn that it’s a cash-only establishment.

Princess has a $5 note.

Neither of us has any cards on us, and the bill is $30.

We don’t want to ask anyone.

Emy and I decide to try her credit card.

Usually doesn’t work but we go still.

On the first try, the card fails, but a $20 note glides out of the machine.

It never works again - and in fact didn’t work the first time.

But I have $25 now, so I offer it to the bar.

“It’s what we have.”

In moments like this, I feel my life is perfectly aligned.

It took a few weeks of boxing to learn what I struggled with at the gym: how to stick through pain. Not just to accept pain, but to be with it. To welcome it. Where does it hurt? How does it feel? Hmm, I’m struggling…

The truth is, pushing myself in any way is not supposed to be comfortable. The very idea of a challenge is to get myself to a place where I couldn’t reach before. And my body and mind doth protest.

They protest because of the newness. They protest because there’s no memory of the pain. But once I have a memory of the pain, it gets easier.

Always, I’m the person to beat.

I worked from Lagos all of Q1, so it was so nice to be back in the office. Working remotely with an in-person team 6 hours apart is extreme sports. Requires a crazy level of communication to feel engaged. And even then, it can be isolating, particularly at a startup where information is most efficiently shared in person.

I saw a picture of Dems the other day and I missed my old team. I’m not usually a misser. Between my obsession with present concerns and the non-stop internal monologue, it’s hard. But I have these random moments where I remember and feel the salty mix of grief and joy.

I crashed at the ATL airport overnight. Five hour delay from Lagos cascaded into a series of events that found me travelling for almost 24 hours. I expected this but also forgot my sweater. Much regret.

Anyway, the whole trip has me writing again. I struggle to write in Lagos I find. It feels too close, too exposed. I’m also too distracted.

Travel lets me focus. I’ve come to like these solo flights. It’s like time suspended between realities - like a transformation. I come out at the other side a new man, a foreign colleague, an interesting stranger.

But I think boy and man are born together. Side by side, from the beginning to the end. And perhaps a better way to visualize what happens in adulthood is that you prioritize the development of the man.

It’s tempting to imagine the man as the antithesis of the boy: serious, always in control, committed to his responsibilities. This is not only limiting, but also creates resentment.

Adulthood is a journey of self-fulfillment, engagement with civic, economic and political realities, and participation in the construction of society itself. Both boy and man are involved.

I was born 23 days before my childhood best friend. His dad was a stern, responsible man fully devoted to his family while my dad was a free, self-interested man who was often in and out.

To interpret Daddy Oke as man-ish and Daddy Isale as boy-ish is not to pit them in opposition but to express a difference in priorities.

The boy is self-interested; the man is a response to the world.

A million dollar app is a miracle. Up until November 30, 2022, ChatGPT only existed in the minds of the twenty-something people building the app. Five days later, a million people across the world are using it.

When Timi and I started Fable, our goal was to build something magical and successful. Fable hasn’t worked out to be that million dollar app. But it is one of the more important projects I’ve worked on.

Publishing an iOS app

Fable is our first independently published iOS app, and it was surprisingly harder than I expected to get up and running.

To publish Fable in the US, we needed an Apple Developer Account with payouts set up. To get that, we had to incorporate a company, set up a bank account (Every), and then get a D‑U‑N‑S number.

The D-U-N-S was a bit of a hassle, but the bank account was easy (and free). It cost $500 to incorporate on Norebase, and then $1k in yearly tax filings. Add $99/year for the Apple Developer Program.

Architecture

The team comes from a web background, so Fable is built on React Native and Expo. Expo supports over-the-air deployments, allowing us to push updates in real-time and skip the multi-day review process at Apple.

Fable’s generation pipeline is fully asynchronous. When a user submits a document, the GraphQL API accepts the request, creates a database record, and immediately enqueues a job. The actual work happens in the background across three discrete worker stages, each handing off to the next via a Redis queue managed by Asynq.

Design

Fable converts documents to podcasts using a pipeline of LLMs.

1. Content Analysis

In the first stage, the source material is analysed and summarised.

We convert the content into “prep notes” using Gemini 2.5 Pro, and this overview is used in the next step to generate the dialogue.

We also process the information to synthesize structured metadata that guides the conversation e.g. tempo, duration and arc.

2. Dialogue Scripting

We made a deliberate choice to go with a podcast format — two AI hosts discussing the content rather than a single voice reading it word-for-word — because we believe that a conversation, even when artificial, carries more character and perspective.

By increasingly fine-tuning the prompt, we managed to remove a lot of unnaturalness from the generated dialogue. But even with an explicit prompt, we still got the occasional weirdness.

To solve this, we pass the initial generated dialogue through a “cleanup pass” to refine the output.

3. Audio Synthesis

In the last stage, we convert the dialogue script to audio.

For this, we tried both ElevenLabs and Google’s Neural2, and found the difference to be very significant. While Google’s model is cheaper, it lacks the detailed prosody of the former.¹

Prosody is the pattern of stress and intonation in a language that distinguishes human conversation from flat, machine-speak. ElevenLabs costs more per character, but what you get in return is a much wider dynamic range. The voices have natural variation in pace, pitch, and emphasis that the Google voices don’t have.

We also spent a lot of time on pacing. Spoken conversation has micro-pauses, turn-taking breath gaps, and longer pauses between topic shifts that don’t exist in the raw script. Instead of converting all the text to voice at once, we break it into chunks and compile the eventual conversation.

Market Reality

Fable sells 100 minutes of audio for $5.99, significantly higher than free alternatives like NotebookLM and ElevenReader. And after many rounds of iteration, we were never able to get the voices to sound as natural as the competition.

That second problem was the real one. Chaining LLMs together isn’t a catch-all solution, and until we have better models, we’re limited.

We tried to pivot to a bookmarking tool. We explored new design directions. We hired a marketing person. None of it landed. Eventually I came to the conclusion that Fable wasn’t worth continuing to sell.

But it was worth making.

We² shipped an iOS app. I can live with that.

Read the full case study at helloworld.ng/fable.

Or try out Fable at fablepod.com

¹ NotebookLM is so good that it’s crazy how bad Google’s TTS model is. They must do some additional processing under the hood.

² Cheers to Timi for the Fable idea, and Tosin, Sama, Taqib, Fawaz and Bobby for making this with us.

the mind is a vast universe.

but the body—

the body is like a mother.

the body loves my mind and accepts my routine.

and when i say that i want to be more.

and when i act like i want to be different.

my body just says yes.

usually the last to know.

but always ready to go.

now i realize

how i know that my mind is right

and my routine should stay:

it does my body good.

At the start of the year, I didn’t consider myself a salesperson. I associated it with a kind of cunning even. Sales was a discipline for charming extroverts, people who could tell stories and convince others of ideas that maybe didn’t have the legs to stand on their own.

But after a year of pushing compression socks and stablecoin applications, my position has changed significantly.

Before There’s a Product

The simplest distinction between art and product is that art is expressive and product is functional. But that’s not enough.

A thing can exist as both art and product. As art, it exists as an outcome of the interaction between creator and material. As product, it exists as value that someone else might be willing to exchange.

This distinction can be evident from the beginning. Sales starts when you consider the question: who is this for, and why would they want it? The exchange isn’t always money. Sometimes it’s time.

I’ve made a lot of things that never became products, not because they couldn’t be, but because of my limited consideration for who else might want them or why. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s a choice that keeps you from certain possibilities.

With Main Squeeze, the question was: can we make compression socks cool enough that people will buy them? And this premise guided everything—design decisions, material choices, how we talked about the product. We were thinking about exchange from day one.

Sales, in this sense, is choosing to make something that exists in relationship with other people, not just in isolation.

Building It

Once you’ve chosen to make a product, sales influences how you build.

At HIFI, my role in sales is mostly about execution—delivering what the GTM team promises and communicating progress well. But that requires tight alignment between what we’re building and what we’re selling. The product idea and the sales idea have to be in sync.

Bad sales happens when these are discordant. When salespeople don’t understand the product they’re selling, or when they promise capabilities that don’t exist. There’s room for exaggeration in storytelling, but not for lies about what the product can actually do.

Good sales requires deep product understanding. Whoever is selling needs to know both the vision and the constraints well enough to creatively imagine with customers without straying too far from what’s possible.

For founders, this is critical: you need to lead whatever aspect of sales you’re good at—branding, partnerships, marketing, whatever. You can have dedicated sales people, but you can’t delegate the alignment work. The strategic direction comes from internal conviction about what should exist. Sales helps determine how that thing comes to life.

Getting It to People

Distribution is where theory meets reality, and where I learned that sales isn’t one thing—it’s completely different depending on what you’re selling and who you’re selling to.

HIFI needs API documentation, developer relations, enterprise partnerships. Main Squeeze needs e-commerce infrastructure, community events, chronic illness advocacy. Fable needs app stores, creator communities, viral mechanics.

The principle is the same—connect what you made with people who value it—but the infrastructure required is radically different.

Sales, I’ve learned, is fundamentally about choosing who you’re for. Bad sales tries to be everything to everyone. Good sales is specific. It’s about finding the people for whom this thing is meaningful, and building the systems to reach them.

As Main Squeeze evolved, we started to focus more on travel and people with chronic illness who need compression socks but are underserved by existing options. And that choice changed our strategy and messaging.

Sales isn’t about convincing people to want something they don’t. It’s about finding the people who already need what you’ve made, and making it easy for them to discover it.

Learning From It

Sales is also a research function.

This might be the most surprising thing I learned. The sales process—talking to customers, seeing what resonates, watching what converts—is how you discover what people actually need, what language works, what constraints matter, what possibilities exist in the market.

At Main Squeeze, watching the Shopify numbers tick up week after week taught us things we couldn’t have known otherwise. Getting an email from an editor at The Independent thanking us for making the socks showed us it was working. Every sale was feedback.

At HIFI, week-to-week product delivery is heavily influenced by what customers ask for, all aligned toward revenue growth. The sales team brings intelligence back from customer conversations that shapes what we build next. Not the core strategy, but tactical execution and prioritization.

This creates a feedback loop: sales informs product, better product makes sales easier, which brings more feedback. The goal is to eventually create a flywheel—a self-sustaining system where customers bring other customers through exclusivity, reward, or just the quality of the thing itself.

Making It Sustainable

The final piece is about alignment—not just between product and sales, but between making and money.

I used to think I didn’t need anything from anyone. I made things for myself, and if no one wanted them, that was fine. But what I’ve realized is that’s not independence—it’s limitation. It means you’re always splitting energy between the things you make and the things that pay bills.

Sales, done right, aligns productive effort with commercial reward. Making money isn’t just validation—it’s efficiency. It means you can be a full-time maker instead of a part-time maker with a side hustle.

This year, through Main Squeeze, HIFI and Fable, I learned that I want people to use what I make. I want their feedback because it makes me better at making. Sales creates the conditions for that exchange—where I get better at my craft and they get something valuable.

It’s mutually beneficial, not extractive. And that reframe changes everything.

If you’re a maker who thinks sales is anti-creative, here’s a different way to think about it:

Sales is choosing who you’re for. It’s building with exchange in mind. It’s the research function that tells you what’s working. It’s what allows you to keep making instead of splitting your time. It’s the work of connecting what you made with the people it matters to.

It’s not separate from the creative process. When done right, it’s part of it.

The civilization-level, simulation-like effect of large social media platforms is more obvious to more people. We need new community models that compete with the attention systems of social media, and the best chance we have is in the real world.

Each identity is just as much an expression of self as it is a response to time and place.

My personal identity comes first - who I am to family and friends.

They hold the most memory of me, and have shaped a lot of who I am.

This is not a single state of being, but a foundational layer of interfaces.

On top of which I’ve built a professional identity.

Rooted in my abilities and skills, and influenced by my tools and team.

These identities I cultivate the most, others I hold more distant.

Like my ethnic identity, grounded in lineage and language.

A sense of belonging, a cultural expression.

A history that lives on through stories and celebrations.

An ancient way of life that persists through behaviour and rituals.

But an identity that now exists within larger political structures.

My national identity is how I’m represented in the world.

It is my present connection to land and history.

I am from a migratory tribe of Yoruba people.

From Ile-Ife to Igbajo, Oyo Province, Western Nigeria, Osun and now Lagos.

What it means to be from here is a shifting mirage.

What it means to be Nigerian is complex and abstract.

It is a lived history. A living history.

It is a representation of power - or the lack of it.

It is a passport.

I need this identity to survive.

But beyond the necessity, it is a cultural expression.

To be Nigerian is to live in a constant duality.

Rich and poor.

Famous and notorious.

Home and abroad.

Ambition and greed.

It is to have memory of Nigeria.

To understand fear and pride.

The self is not a fixed thing.

It’s tempting to think of it as such because the body presents a consistent image.

But the body itself is constantly in flux.

My image is simply an idea.

I am not a combination of my identities, but the operating system.

I am the set of values through which I navigate these interfaces.

I am the prioritization mechanism for who comes first.

I am as much as I allow myself to be.

I am who I try to be.

I am who I end up being.

And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.

You know the thing I feel the most about about Dave’s new album? Jealousy.

Listening to him rap his feelings out makes me miss honest writing.

Pen to paper, feelings on ink. Or ASCII characters :)

What if my writing isn’t about me?

Every time my dad calls, I wonder if that’s the call.

We’ve become closer over the years. But a pain-ridden type of closenesss where each person is careful not to touch the other’s wounds.

I think his wounds are self-inflicted though, but wounds nonetheleess.

Years of hoping that maybe we fix this thing.

And now we’ve all just accepted what it is.

I am the man of the family.

I’ve been the man of the family since I was what?

Holding my responsibilities at arms length.

I remember when I told Timi’s mum I wasn’t getting married and she said was sad for my mum.

And I didn’t get it. Why does everyone not care about what I want?

Why do they think they know best for me?

You know, it was always me and my mum.

And now I’ve been around. I’ve made a lot of friends. I’ve bonded with people over shared understanding and shared pain. I’ve found comfort in strangers.

But these days it feels like it’s back to just us.

Me. And my mum. My dad. And then my siblings.

Growing up without safety has interesting side effects.

Like, becoming an expert at creating worlds.

Companies, teams, products, experiences.

An expert at creating the fiction of order.

I’m in a unfortunate place where I need impulsiveness to publish.

And the immediate gratification of completion.

But I also feel the responsibility of care.

I want to do it well. I want to balance my opinions.

Sigh.

I think this was a good first shot anyway.

Thanks Dave.

And you too, Kano.

I know I can earn more if I put everything into the studio, but for it to really work, I’d need to hire more experienced people and grow the organization quickly. I didn’t feel ready for this.

I set a salary figure in mind and started applying to roles. I got a few interviews, but eventually turned to my network. A few days after a lengthy LinkedIn post, I met Zach Walsh.

At HIFI, we’re building an infrastructure layer on top of a mix of fiat and stablecoin payment rails. I started with the Dashboard and slowly extended myself into Brand, API, Website, and operations. Six months later, I now lead the Engineering team.

The job has been incredibly rewarding, and this was the right decision. It’s encouraged me to adapt and evolve, expanded my professional network, and pushed me to become more visible. I’ve learned a great deal about what matters in a company and how to make the best of diversity in a group. I also think we have everything we need to be very successful.

At Paystack, my proudest achievement was the quality of the organization. There was a constant pull between the work and the people/systems required to do it, and my work often skewed to the latter.

At HIFI, I want it to be the former: excellent APIs, innovative products, continuous improvement, and phenomenal customer experience.

With all of this going on, Princess and I have been growing the studio as well! As of today, 11+ people work with us in one capacity or another building brands (Main Squeeze), technology (Fable), and art (wuruwuru).

Success at HIFI means building a great team, excellent product delivery, impressive profits and smooth customer experience at scale. It also matters to me that we achieve it without bloating the org.

Success at Moonlight means building a great team and sustaining our experiments. Our next set of hires need to be multipliers in the way I’ve been for HIFI. That will be transformative.

Until then, my approach is simple: keep doing what’s working until it doesn’t. The studio has always been a long game.

Hosting is a really popular thing to do in New York - Brookyln especially, and it’s a lot more casual. I think the architecture of the place contributes a lot to this culture.

The closest I’ve come to this amount of people-ing was in Nairobi. There we had beautiful houses, and someone was always hosting.

I’m outgrowing writing as my primary tool for figure-outing.

My life has become much fuller, and it is no longer practical (or even possible) to sift through the pieces through letters to strangers.

But also, I’ve also built more emotional capacity, and I suppose needing to write less is a symptom of releasing control.

Now I’m looking to use it more creatively. Fingers crossed.

If I had to reduce this NY trip into a thing, it’d be a Citi Bike.

This is the summer where I learnt to ride confidently.

One pedal at a time.

And not afraid to fall.

Mummy is fine. Daddy is fine. I’ve considered showing them some of our letters but I don’t know if they’ll get it. Ok ok… I don’t know if I’m ready.

You know, a part of me feels like you left. You left me. I understand you had to go, but also, it was just me. It was us, then it was just me.

Are you alone? I hope not. I know the bible talks about singing and dancing all day long, but doesn’t that just get boring?

Anyway, if there’s really a second life, I hope you’re not bored. I hope there are enough challenges to keep it interesting.

Mafeng, I met the most amazing girl. She makes me feel not alone.

I used to be so worried about you, but I realize now that you didn’t need me to be. You stopped needing me when you left. But I needed you, Mafeng.

Anyway, I’ll tell you more about her soon.

Just wanted you to know I forgive you for leaving.

And you don’t need to respond.

Love, Kyespan.

A lot of my work recently has been frontend engineering, either catching up to technical debt or refining a built product. As it turns out, pruning a codebase is my kind of gardening.

Anyway, engineering is a hard grind, and a lot of the work you end up doing is invisible. Sam Yoon calls it god’s work.

This was my diagram from 2023:

Going through this process taught me a lot about securities, risk, time and a lot of other ideas about how to grow money. I cleaned up my accounts and put most of my money into long-term investments. Then I took on some debt to improve my savings before quitting my job.

This is how I’m thinking about cash flow now:

• My main source of income is a job, but the studio pays me too.
• Combined income is split between budget, savings and debt.
• I use budget accounts to control spending by limiting cash.
• Savings have a cut-off point at which they go into investments.
• Investments are low to medium-risk e.g. ETFs or real estate.
• I fund high risk investments e.g. crypto from budget.
• Equity is a last line of defense.

The studio, on the other hand, operates on the profit-first model: we take out a percentage of revenue and put it in a separate profit account. The rest is carefully allocated between owner’s pay, operating costs and taxes.

The idea is:

1. We’re always making a profit.
2. We take care of ourselves first.
3. It constrains our operations to how much we’re making.
4. It simplifies tax - we’ll never be owing.

We’re starting with an allocation that keeps the business running, but the goal is to grow our revenues to have sufficient operating capital for a long period of time. At this point, we can afford to allot higher percentages to other buckets.

In 1884, both sides waged it out in the Battle of Igbajo. The Ekitiparapo army had the upper hand through their trade connections in Lagos. They got access to cannons, which made a distinct sound when fired. This sound became the name of the war: “Kiriji”.

A year later, Ibadan’s supreme general, Aare Latoosa, realized his impending defeat and committed suicide. This significantly cooled the conflict. In 1893, a peace treaty was signed in Igbajo, which marked the end of inter-tribal Yoruba wars.

In 1952, eight years before independence, a secondary school was founded in Igbajo to commemorate the war. This school - Kiriji Memorial College - is where my parents first met. My mum grew up in Oyo but moved back to study. Later they both moved to Lagos, where I was born.

Wikipedia

Timi is back.

Our goal is to ship every quarter.

#1 is GRVL, a new experience for planning group trips

#2 is Fable, an app that turns articles and pdfs into podcasts

#3 is Hello Flights, an AI assistant for booking flights

Three projects to ship this quarter.

And then a new website.

My sense of self is rooted in my connection to family and friends, the respect of my peers, quality of my work and physical well-being. And all have improved since I quit.

But of course, I feel a great loss. I feel the gravity of the end of my contract. An untethering from Shola, Ezra, and the community I helped build.

It also feels like the last time anything will be the same. Who I am may not have fundamentally changed, but what I care about, what I do, where I live, etc. are all in flux.

I feel like I’m negotiating for a new life.

The original goal for concierge was to build an agent for myself. But I think it’s more rewarding to have public utility.

I now think of concierge as an agent platform. A fleet of specialised AI agents that live on websites to help people do stuff.

Profiles

An agent’s profile is its identity. It determines what the agent knows and what it can do. Here’s an example:

{
  "host": "concierge.opemipo.com",
  "name": "concierge",
  "description": "You are concierge, a chatbot designed to answer questions...",
  "brand": {
    "background": "#011b33",
    "highlight": "D9FFD9",
    "typeface": "Inter",
    "avatar": "image.png",
    "tone": "Keep all responses simple, concise and to the point"
  },
  "sources": [{
    "source_type": "json",
    "source_url": "bio.json",
    "source_description": "Use this information to answer questions about the person...",
    "authentication": null
  }, {
    "source_type": "json",
    "source_url": "bookmarks.json",
    "source_description": "Use this information to answer questions about links...",
    "authentication": "user"
  }],
  "interfaces": [],
  "tools": [{
      "tool_id": "uuid",
      "tool_name": "searchBookmarks",
      "tool_description": "Return a list of bookmarks based on the query",
      ...
  }]
}

With profiles, we can configure new agents as needed.

Interfaces

Interfaces are input-output systems optimised for a specific goal.

concierge will start with three:

• chat: for conversations
• form: for written queries
• voice: translates audio to text

Next

We need to refactor the codebase to support this platform vision. After this, we can start building our next agent.

My lived experience is merely a container for the expansive life created by the complex threads of my relationships.

I imagine my Chi as the rest of it.

A great force.

These days, it’s not quite the same. I’m at home and there’s rice, chicken, and new clothes, but I can’t channel the same excitement.

So I’ve been sitting here thinking: how do you find yuletide joy as an adult? Not the wild excitement from when we were kids, but maybe something else. Something that dismisses all my worries about next year and lets me be grateful for what I have right now.

I’ve sent “Merry Christmas” messages to so many people today, all over the world. From Anambra to Boston, everyone’s in a different city. Some with family, most not. It’s hard to feel like we’re all together, but we try.

My brother organized a family photoshoot yesterday, and then we had lunch. My sister couldn’t make it, but his wife did. A bunch of familiar strangers will visit the house today, and we’ll eat, play and watch TV. Tomorrow we’ll unbox the packages under the tree, and then go out to see a play.

I started writing this essay partly to break my hiatus, but also to find joy by doing something I’ll always love: publishing.

Christmas. An ever-changing tradition that meets me wherever I am. A privilege that I may not be able to truly appreciate, but one that exists nonetheless.

They say the best way to help yourself through something is to help someone else. So if you’re reading this today, I wish you great joy. The kind that comes from newness and connection and community, however far dispersed.

Merry Christmas. And a happy new year in advance!

Principles

I set three ground rules for this experiment:

1. Independence: The agent must be agnostic of the underlying language model. High-quality, context-rich data is the core.

2. Utility: Every new feature should add some unique functionality, making it genuinely helpful rather than just clever.

3. Collaboration: The agent should re-invent the wheel as little as possible and play well with other services and agents.

Architecture

The agent’s knowledge is currently fed from two JSON files: biodata.json and bookmarks.json.

When concierge receives a query, it decides whether the query is about me or about my bookmarks. Information about me is public, so it responds to all such requests. Try it here: concierge.opemipo.com

But if the query is about my bookmarks, it checks for authentication. We currently use privy.io for this.

Vector Storage

The first prototype worked by loading my entire biodata from a JSON file into a system prompt, but my bookmarks exceed the model’s “context window” — the word-count limit.

To solve this, I used a vector store to filter the bookmarks based on the query. As I understand it, vector stores work by transforming text into numbers and then searching for similar numbers.

Here’s what that looks like:

import { OpenAIEmbeddings } from "@langchain/openai";
import { MemoryVectorStore } from "langchain/vectorstores/memory";

export async function storeBookmarkData(bookmarksJson: string) {
  const embeddings = new OpenAIEmbeddings();
  const bookmarks = JSON.parse(bookmarksJson);

  const documents = bookmarks.map((bookmark: any) => ({
    pageContent: `${bookmark.title}\n${bookmark.url}\n${bookmark.excerpt || ""}\n${bookmark.folder || ""}`,
    metadata: {
      date: bookmark.created,
      url: bookmark.url,
      cover: bookmark.cover,
      tags: bookmark.tags,
      note: bookmark.note,
      highlights: bookmark.highlights,
      favorite: bookmark.favorite,
    },
  }));

  return await MemoryVectorStore.fromDocuments(documents, embeddings);
}

Tools

When a query is received, the model decides whether it’s a question about me or a question about my bookmarks. If it’s a question about my bookmarks, it uses a “tool” instead of responding.

const relevantContext = `Here's what you know about the human: ${JSON.stringify(bio)}\n`;
const systemMessage = {
  role: "system",
  content: `${SYSTEM_PROMPT}\n
  ${relevantContext}\n
  Use this information to answer questions about the human accurately.
  If a user requests to be logged in, use the login tool to do this and the logout tool to logout users.
  If a user asks questions about saved links, websites, or bookmarked content use the searchBookmarks tool to handle this.
  If asked about something not in this data, politely state that you don't have that information.`,
};

concierge now has three tools:

• login: authenticates the user
• logout: removes the user’s authentication
• searchBookmarks: queries the vector store Here’s what that last one looks like:

const searchBookmarksTool = tool(
  async ({ query }: { query: string }) => {
    if (!user) {
      return "This user is not authorized to query bookmarks";
    }
    if (!bookmarksVectorStore) {
      return "Bookmarks data not found";
    }
    const bookmarksDocsWithScores =
      await bookmarksVectorStore.similaritySearchWithScore(query, 2);
    return bookmarksDocsWithScores
      .filter(([_, score]) => score > 0.7)
      .map(([doc, _]) => `${doc.pageContent}`);
  },
  {
    name: "searchBookmarks",
    description:
      "This tool handles questions about saved links, websites, or bookmarked content.",
    schema: z.object({
      query: z.string().describe("The query to use in your search."),
    }),
  },
);

Search Logic

The current search logic filters for bookmarks based on their similarity to the query. This only works for specific types of request.

For example, if I ask a general question like “what are my bookmarks about?” or “how many graphic design bookmarks do you have?”, the agent will return a silly result. But if I ask a specific question like “Please share the bookmark about X?”, it answers correctly.

I’ve explored different ways to solve this problem, including switching to a structured search for certain queries. But back to Principle 3, I think it’s best to rely on a database service that’s already optimised for this.

Next

I’ve learnt a lot about data storage and LLM tools from building this. Sets the foundation for other agent capabilities.

My next challenge is to get the agent to order food for me. The agent will check the restaurant’s menu, message them, and pay.

Thanks to Tosin, Timi and Justin for your help!

I generated the initial build with v0 and finished up in Cursor. For correctness, I augmented the LLM with basic memory using a JSON file that gets loaded into the system prompt.

You can try it here: concierge.opemipo.com.

My primary objective is to automate admin work. Eventually, concierge will be able to book my flights or renew this domain.

I’m also thinking about what it means to run an agent. This includes what it knows, how it feels, where it lives, what it can do, and how it learns.

An LLM that can answer questions about me from a JSON file is not that impressive. But it’s a platform for me to experiment from.

Notes

1. Dev agents are crazy! v0 was absolutely magical. It was frustrating when something didn’t work, and I want a better mechanism for syncing with a repo, but otherwise it was great.
2. I sometimes forgot that I was the expert. I found myself asking Cursor to write every single change I wanted. I sometimes would spend more time fixing a prompt than it took to just write the code.
3. Models matter a lot. 4o is clearly able to understand much better than 3.5, and able to stick to instructions better. I was easily able to deceive 3.5 into providing wrong answers.
4. Models don’t matter. Once I got past the initial utility of understanding, it became clear that the real juice is in data, integrations and tools.

1. To reclaim my time

I’ve been working since my first year of uni. A lot of my adult life has been designed around quarterly goals, monthly targets and weekly plans. I wanted to reclaim all of my time and see what I do with it. Rest, health, family, friends.

2. To challenge myself

I spent nine years at Paystack and it got too comfortable. Work was challenging but not in the ways I’m interested in. My studio experiments were also within my comfort zone. I want to find out how well I do outside an environment of my own making.

3. To work differently

When I started at Paystack, I was a visionary product designer and engineer. When I left, I was a reliable producer and decent manager. I put a lot into my job and loved the people I worked with, but being a manager doesn’t fulfil me.

4. To expand

This phase of my life is about building global roots. I’m starting from London and moving outwards from here. Leaving Paystack was step one.

To summarize the conversation:

• Some people argued that feminists should not get married because marriage limits the agency of women in Nigeria.
• Marriage affects women in many ways, but changing surnames re-inforces the idea that women belong to men.
• Women who choose to keep their surnames after marriage face varying degrees of difficulty. Some experience issues while others don’t.
• One of the difficulties of this decision is choosing what to name the kids. Some people use a compound name, other people use the husband’s name, but fewer women use their own surname.
• Traditionally and in religion, there’s no actual requirement for the woman to take up her husband’s name.
• Women who change their name do this either because they want to or because they think it’s easier. These women do not want to be discounted as feminist for their choice.

Here’s what I think:

• Marriage does limit the agency of women in Nigeria. I say this from the experience of my own family. If my mum wasn’t married to my dad, she would feel more free to pursue a partnership with someone that genuinely cares about her and wants the same things out of life. In many ways, marriage prevented her from pursuing this goal.
• On the flip side, marriage was a tool she used to navigate life as the head of our family. Marriage was a passkey to several social and professional groups e.g. church and work. Without the illusion of being married, I believe she’d have been significantly limited in those spaces.
• Society respects marriage as a marker of commitment, which in turn should be a marker of responsibility. The idea is that if you have family you have more to lose, and so you’re more likely to be trusted. However, in Nigeria’s patriarchal system, this is not true. Marriage is not a marker of commitment or responsibility for most men.
• Marriage doesn’t have equity in a patriarchal system because it’s a system of violence. If you take physical strength as the measure of leadership potential in a community, then whoever can perpetrate the most violence will always lead. You can draw a line from the unchecked power of men in the family unit all the way up to the state.
• I don’t think women choosing to get married limits their feminism. Marriage and patriarchy are different institutions even though they affect each other. I think alternative models of marriage where the woman holds power may be a more effective way to circumvent the patriachy than women choosing not to get married.
• In the matter of names, the name-surname system is the actual flaw. The patriarchy only makes this bad in the same way it colours everything else. If women were considered the head of the family, we’d still have the same problem of what to name the kids.
• The name-surname system is a colonial import. Most African societies had their own naming traditions, often using given names, patronymics, or clan names rather than fixed surnames. Some of these systems were patriachal, but I say this to highlight that we had other models.
• Individual families should get to choose what surname to use for themselves and their kids. It is the onus of the state to accommodate for family units with different surnames.
• In the absence of real political organization, individual women cannot be expected to abide by feminist expressions that do not reflect their values or contribute to their agency. If someone chooses to change their surname, it should not discount their feminism. However, I think it should be a conscious choice not an expectation.
• I believe there’s an unwritten societal expectation that women should change their surnames within certain institutions e.g. Christianity. And I think this should be tackled within those institutions, not outside of it.

Notes from Lanu

• Marriage is an institution, patriarchy is a system. Not sure if those words are interchangeable but in my head, they are different.
• In our world currently (especially in Nigeria), patriarchy upholds the default marriage structure. Once a woman gets married, the power dynamic shifts because within that institution, men hold all the power. Some women are only lucky to have husbands who choose not to utilise all the power they have.
• Those who do have husbands who utilise all their power, have no one within society come to their aid if they complain because we live in a patriarchal society. And even for husbands that don’t choose to lord their power over their wives, their family, friends and even the immigration officer at MMA will do it on his behalf.
• So basically, until that changes, there can’t be a marriage structure where women hold power.
• What I understood recently though is that you can talk about feminism all you want with a potential spouse and agree on how you want your marriage to be but after the day you say, “I do”, you can only just pray that he sticks to it.
• Also, the only way a woman can get her power back is to get divorced but it’s no coincidence that this is only position a woman can be in society. It’s actually better to not have been married.

Stumbled on this thread the other day and was like oh! Am I… that autistic? I’m not one to self-diagnose, but from the conditions described in the thread and the rabbit hole of academic papers that followed, I found a number of relatable signs.

What I really enjoyed was the vivid description of the existential angst that emerges from the lack of a strong “basic self”. On my birthday this year, my mum shared a concern that I “just absorb everything”. I think it’s a similar sentiment.

I spend too much time inside my head. I obsessively over-analyse everything and struggle with feelings of shame and guilt more than I should. Even now, I feel like I may be doing it. So much about myself seems up for contemplation. I get new information and feel so strongly because “is that me?” Every time. Ah ahn!

I think strengthening my “basic self” requires me to share what’s on my mind more freely. It was easy to do at work; it’s harder to do in life. But here is a good place to start.

Hence I will be “shitposting”. Okay, it’s not shitposting but I want to call it shitposting. This essay (and the ones that follow) will be random and varied to slowly release myself from being so locked in. I’m also going to read more and talk to my friends more, which should give me other things to think about other than myself.

Hot take: I think the idiosyncracies of our world today have created a generation of people obsessed with self. We have language for every feeling, justification for every thought, and we hold this as truth. We create special labels to explain universal troubles. We embrace over-analysis and promote a logical understanding of self through therapy.

But I think the fundamental ailment is the breakdown of community. Globalization has created a false sense of kinship that - in many ways - pales in comparison to tribes: a group of people grounded to a physical area they all feel responsible for.

I had this in secondary school and uni, and I was much less anxious I think. I probably was just as autistic and weird, but it didn’t matter as much. So much else was happening in my world that my little quirks weren’t so important.

1. Lagos, 2006: My mum buys a PC at home.
2. Ibadan, 2008: My mum buys me an Acer laptop for A-Levels.
3. Ile-Ife, 2009: The cyber cafe at Angola in my first year at OAU.

By 2010, I was deep into Facebook. I wrote poems, shared my newfound love for graphic design and posted albums of life in uni.

Twitter took over a few years later. It brought all of the strange people in school together and connected us beyond Osun state. It was a beautiful subculture: gossip, inter-school wars, parties and a lot of blogs.

On the internet I was free. “thatmerrykid” was a brand new identity to express myself as I wanted to. And express myself I did! I created a Wordpress blog and poured my thoughts out.

After uni, I didn’t want to be called “merrykid” anymore. I felt grown up with my new jobs and new apartment. So I changed my username to “fathermerry”. And then I made so many new friends.

Medium came next. I loved it right away and picked up from Wordpress. With no one to consider, I poured myself to the internet again. No thought was too sacred. No feelings were too private.

At some point, I started to struggle with this identity.

Being called fathermerry felt like being called to play a character. But this character was my life, and although I put myself out willingly, I didn’t want a public life. The whole thing was very confusing.

I found my voice on the internet, and publishing had become the easiest way to express myself. But because I struggled with my evolving identity, I felt pent up and unable to write freely.

I also lost Twitter. It became too big, too busy, too unsafe. I cut it for about a year and became more passive when I got back. I locked my Instagram and restricted it to people I’ve met.

The fundamental issue was that my audience had grown out of control. 5k followers seems harmless when you’re fresh out of uni. But with my growing professional success and reluctance to become a brand, it started to feel like a liability. I constantly considered nuking the username.

But at the same time, I didn’t want to start afresh.

Earlier this year, I started to explore a new model for publishing that allows me to write freely. At first I thought I was building new software, but it ended up being a simple mental change.

The foundation of my new system is - surprise - journaling!

I start all my writing in a notetaking app and then decide what gets published later. My problem was not the audience; it was a premature consideration for the audience.

Now, I journal first.

• If it’s to someone or a small group, I email them directly.
• If it’s a fleeting or raw thought, I generate a temporary link.
• If it’s worth documenting, I publish to my website.
• If it’s about work, I publish to the appropriate blog.

I also apply this “record first, publish later” philosophy to my photography. By pausing to reflect on who I want to share with, I’m able to decide what channel I prefer: sending the photos directly, creating a shared album, or publishing to social media.

I’ve been doing this for a while now and I feel comfortable on the internet again. I write more consistently and honestly. I’m also able to maintain a sense of authenticity in my publishing that feels true to who I am.

It’s ok to call me fathermerry - it’s just a username. #ntd

I’ve always wanted to build a personal finance app.

At first it was Cruncher, a web app to parse bank statements. It was useful, but I couldn’t focus on improving it. As soon as there was an alternative (Inflow), I shut down my app.

Last year, my itch came back. This time I wanted something to split bills automatically. Splitwise works okay for this, but I wanted something that makes it easy to settle payments as well. Enter Dotch.

I designed three iterations for Dotch, but couldn’t make time to build any of them. Instead, I took one function of the app (scanning bills) and built an MVP based on that. Scan a bill and share with friends.

After about 11 months, here’s what the stats look like.

A few people use the app, but not enough to justify maintaining it or paying for a domain. Most importantly, the app doesn’t work for me or solve any real problems for people I care about.

I don’t have the time to build the Dotch I really want, so I’m shutting it down on August 31, 2024. Samson discovered a new app that seems to do the same thing: billpeer.app. I haven’t used it, but it’s worth a try.

If you’d like to continue using Dotch regardless, you can fork the repo and host it: https://github.com/helloworld-ng/dotch.

2.4 Brief story of the organization

The name “wuruwuru” is derived from the Nigerian expression “wuruwuru to the answer,” which describes solving a problem haphazardly. It reflects the innovative yet often informal way things are created in Nigeria without institutional support.

I started the studio in 2020 to make a magazine. However, it evolved into a broader mission to support talented independent creators. Over the past three years, we’ve produced a diverse catalog of cultural products, including two animated short films (Hanky Panky and E Dey Happen), a collectible board game (LUDO), a digital archive of album covers (Cover Bank), and an anthology of queer stories (Feel Good).

These projects were not just creative experiments but also avenues for substantial cultural contributions, such as the Album Cover Bank, which documents over 5,300 Nigerian album covers from 1950 to present, celebrating the country’s rich graphic design history.

Our efforts have been recognized with notable accolades: Hanky Panky was a semi-finalist at the New York Animation Film Awards, Feel Good was honored by the Webbys, and we have been featured in prestigious publications like The Guardian, It’s Nice That, and Contemporary And.

2.7 Where is the organization’s work having its primary impact?

Our work is global but deeply rooted in Nigeria. Our projects provide inspiration and a source of income for independent artists in Nigeria. Additionally, our stories and websites have garnered over 20,000 views from audiences in the US, UK, and Canada. These countries have seen significant migration from Nigeria in recent years, which explains the extensive reach of our audience there. This global interest highlights the resonance of our work and its ability to connect with the Nigerian diaspora and beyond.

2.8 How many people benefit directly from your organization’s work?

51–100

2.9 How are you calculating the previous estimate?

• Independent Artists in Nigeria: We’ve collaborated with over 45 creators and studios, providing them with opportunities for creative expression and financial support.
• Global Audiences: Our stories and websites have gotten over 20,000 views from audiences in the US, UK, and Canada, indicating a significant global reach.
• Animated Short Films: Hanky Panky and E Dey Happen have been viewed by more than 6,000 people on YouTube, further extending the impact of our work.

2.10 What are the main 3 challenges to your organization?

1. Funding and Financial Sustainability

• Challenge: We need money to hire a team, market projects, and support artists. Getting initial capital and developing consistent revenue streams is an existential concern.
• Strategy: We’re pursuing grants, donations, and developing revenue streams through limited edition collectibles. Creating a sustainable business model will help generate ongoing revenue to support our operations.

2. Team and Talent Acquisition

• Challenge: Skilled professionals are essential to manage and scale our projects effectively. Attracting and retaining a full-time team dedicated to business management, product operations, and marketing is vital.
• Strategy: We aim to secure the funding to build a world-class team. Collaborating with educational institutions and industry networks will also help us find and nurture emerging talent.

3. Market Penetration and Audience Engagement

• Challenge: Reaching and engaging a global audience requires strategic marketing and substantial resources. Competing for visibility in a crowded digital space is challenging but essential for growth.
• Strategy: We’re also looking to hire a team to help with this. In the mean time, we’re leveraging data analytics to understand and engage our audience effectively.

2.11 Governance overview

We maintain a flexible yet structured governance model.

• Leadership: We operate as a non-profit with two directors: myself and Williams Ogah. We provide strategic leadership and oversight, ensuring we stay aligned with our mission.
• Planning: We conduct bi-annual planning sessions. I select projects based on the available budget, potential impact and their alignment with our mission to support independent artists.
• Project-Based Teams: For each project, we assemble independent teams tailored to the specific needs and goals of the project. This approach allows for flexibility and scalability.
• Financial Oversight: All outgoing payments must be approved by both Williams and me to ensure financial accountability and transparency. This dual-approval process helps maintain fiscal responsibility and prudent financial management.
• Public Accountability: We maintain transparency and public accountability by keeping a journal of studio projects, accessible at medium.com/wuruwuru. This journal documents our activities and progress.
• Volunteer Support: Our organization is supported by a collective of volunteers who contribute their expertise in various areas such as legal, editorial, and strategic planning.

3.1 Mission statement of the organization

Our mission is to promote excellent cultural production and support independent artists who lack traditional avenues for funding and distribution. We’re dedicated to fostering creativity, providing resources, and creating platforms for artists to showcase their work, ensuring their unique voices are heard and celebrated globally.

3.2 What are the main social issues that the organization is addressing with its work?

1. Lack of Institutional Support

Challenge: There’s little to no support for independent artists in Nigeria, particularly digital artists, to develop their skills and produce their ideas.

Our Role: We provide financial backing, resources, and platforms for these artists, enabling them to realize their creative visions.

2. Lack of Community

Challenge: Many independent artists are self-taught and lack a supportive community for feedback and performance improvement.

Our Role: We foster a collaborative environment where artists can connect, share ideas, and receive constructive feedback, helping them refine their skills and grow professionally.

3. Economic Empowerment

Challenge: Independent artists often struggle with money due to the precarious nature of freelance work.

Our Role: We provide financial support and sustainable income opportunities through our projects.

4. Documentation

Challenge: The documentation of Nigeria’s cultural scene is not broad or consistent enough.

Our Role: We archive diverse forms of cultural production, ensuring a broader representation of Nigeria’s vibrant cultural landscape.

5. LGBTQ+ Representation

Challenge: LGBTQ+ communities in Nigeria face significant social stigma and discrimination, limiting their opportunities for creative expression.

Our Role: With projects like Feel Good, we advocate for greater inclusivity and representation of LGBTQ+ voices in the arts.

3.3 Who is the organization supporting?

Independent artists in Nigeria

3.4 How does the organization work with communities?

Each project we make fosters collaboration and promotes cultural heritage.

HANKY PANKY

• Collaboration: Worked with leading animators in Nigeria to produce this film.
• Community Engagement: Screenings in Lagos and London brought together top storytellers, enhancing the local and international animation community.

LUDO

• Collaboration: Partnered with local woodworkers and printmakers.
• Quality Demonstration: Showcased high-quality craftsmanship, strengthening the network of local artisans through shared goals and high standards.

FEEL GOOD

• Collaboration: Worked with eight talented queer writers in Nigeria to produce this anthology.
• Global Impact: Featured in multiple queer journals and read by thousands worldwide, amplifying LGBTQ+ voices and fostering inclusivity.

COVER BANK

• Documentation: Promotes the work of graphic designers in the music industry.
• Community Engagement: Hosted a launch event, bringing together music artists and graphic designers, encouraging collaboration and preserving Nigeria’s graphic design heritage.

In general, we encourage:

• Collaboration: Each project involves local and international artists, fostering a network of creative professionals.
• Community: We provide a platform for artists to connect, share ideas, and receive feedback.
• Support: We offer financial backing and resources, enabling artists to pursue their projects.
• Representation: We promote diverse voices, including LGBTQ+ artists, ensuring broader cultural representation.

3.5 How is the organization using arts for social change?

• We make innovative projects that push the envelope of creative arts.
• We inspire high-quality cultural production by producing consistently excellent work.
• We improve Nigeria’s reputation in the world by distributing great ideas globally.
• We pay independent artists to work on pioneering projects that help them improve.
• We train younger artists on the job through collaborative creative practices.
• We help ambitious artists set up their own creative/studio practice.
• We promote inclusivity and representation, especially for LGBTQ+ voices.
• We document and preserve Nigeria’s rich cultural heritage for future generations.

3.6 Describe a recent or ongoing project and/or activities that exemplify the approach described in the previous questions

Cover Bank is a digital archive documenting Nigerian album covers from 1950 to the present, painting a comprehensive picture of the history of Nigerian graphic design.

Key Aspects:

• Innovative Documentation: This unique project meticulously collects and curates over 5,300 Nigerian album covers, highlighting the evolution of graphic design in Nigeria.
• High-Quality Production: The archive sets a high standard in cultural preservation, showcasing the best of Nigerian album art.
• Global Reach: Featured in publications like The Guardian and It’s Nice That, Cover Bank has garnered international attention, creating positive press for Nigeria.
• Artist Support: The project promotes the work of graphic designers, providing them with visibility and recognition, and serving as a launchpad for careers in technology and design.
• Community Engagement: We hosted a community event attended by over 50 writers, designers, and artists, fostering a collaborative environment and encouraging dialogue about Nigerian music and graphic design.
• Career Development: Multiple people who worked on the project have used this experience to secure technology jobs. The intern who led the project is now pursuing a design degree in Canada.

3.7 Describe the main activities or projects the organization is undertaking in 2024

1. Films

• E Dey Happen: We’re producing more episodes of our first animated show, E Dey Happen. Our goal is to refine and expand the series with the hope of selling it to a network in 2025.
• This involves script development, animation production, voice acting, and post-production work. We will also be engaging with potential network partners to secure a deal.

2. Collectibles

• Noro: We worked with Chuma Asuzu, a Nigerian designer based in Canada to promote and distribute Noro, a stool that blends Nigerian storytelling with contemporary design and craftsmanship.
• Chequebook: We’re designing a unique product that combines modern digital design with traditional finance, offering a creative and practical collectible that celebrates Nigerian cultural ceremonies.
• LUDO: We’re creating a cheaper, lighter version of the LUDO board, enhancing its design and production quality to appeal to both local and international markets.
• These projects involve collaboration with local artisans and designers, prototyping, and marketing efforts to promote and sell these limited edition products.

3. Archives

• Cover Bank & Feel Good: We plan to hire an Editorial/Marketing team to promote these projects more effectively. This team will focus on increasing visibility and engagement through strategic marketing and content creation.
• Spectrum: We’re planning to produce a new magazine named “Spectrum,” which will cover diverse cultural topics and highlight innovative artists and designers from West Africa.
• This involves recruitment for the editorial and marketing roles, content planning and creation for Spectrum, and promotional campaigns for Cover Bank and Feel Good.

3.8 List up to 3 organizations/initiatives with whom the organization has collaborated on specific projects

• Studio Yadi: LUDO
• VSonics: Hanky Panky, E Dey Happen
• Studio Null: Feel Good

3.9 Describe the impact that your organization would like to have in the next 3 years

In the next three years, Independent Arts aims to:

• Grow our International Audience from 20k to 2m People: Expanding our reach will enhance global recognition of Nigerian arts and culture, fostering greater appreciation and understanding of diverse narratives.
• Develop a Sustainable Business Model Based on Collectibles: Establishing revenue streams through high-quality collectibles will provide financial stability, allowing us to re-invest in artists and projects.
• Produce 100+ Projects for Nigerian Creators: High-quality projects will garner critical acclaim, elevating the profile of participating artists and enhancing their career opportunities.
• Launch a Leading Arts Magazine in West Africa: “Spectrum” will provide a platform for showcasing innovative works and discussing cultural issues, promoting dialogue and cultural exchange across the region.
• Set Up a Physical Location in London or New York: Establishing a presence in a major city will increase visibility and influence, serving as a hub for international collaborations, exhibitions, and events.
• Organize an Annual Festival: This festival will celebrate and showcase diverse talents through exhibitions, film screenings, panel discussions, and live performances. It will strengthen the arts community and increase public appreciation of Nigerian art.

4.5 How is the organization currently funding its operations?

• Personal Investments: A significant portion of the initial and ongoing funding for Independent Arts has come from personal investments from me, ensuring the organisation has the necessary resources to operate and grow.
• Grants & Donations: We’ve received donations from patrons who support our mission. And while we’ve only just started applying for grants, we expected this to become a more substantial part of our funding strategy moving forward.
• Sales of Collectibles: Sales from limited edition products, such as the LUDO board, provide a revenue stream that supports our operations and projects. We achieved a 37% profit margin on the LUDO board, demonstrating the potential for collectibles to contribute significantly to our financial sustainability.

4.6 Please describe how much your organization relies on underpaid work

• Founders’ Contributions: We have invested personal funds and often contribute significant unpaid labor to sustain operations and drive projects forward. None of the advisors are also paid.
• Project-Based Contributions: For project-specific work, we hire freelancers and independent artists. We aim to offer competitive rates, but budget limitations sometimes result in compensation that may not fully reflect the value of their contributions.
• Profit Sharing and Royalties: In some cases, we provide profit-sharing arrangements or royalties to ensure artists receive a fair share of the revenue generated from their work. For example, each writer for Feel Good will also receive a 2% royalty on all future sales if we’re able to license the work.

4.7 Please describe how much your organization relies on volunteers, in-kind donations or contributions.

• Volunteers: We work with volunteers and interns for various roles, such as event coordination, administrative tasks, and promotional activities. While we strive to offer stipends, development opportunities or other forms of recognition, these positions are often underpaid or unpaid due to budget constraints.
• In-kind donations: Occasionally we exchange services with other studios and artists. For example, the launch event for Cover Bank was hosted for free at the 16/16 space in Victoria Island.
• Contributions: We’ve received financial donations from two patrons who believe in our mission. These contributions were channeled entirely towards production for the respective projects.

Introduction

E Dey Happen (EDH) is a Nigerian animated show created by Eris Ekanem for wuruwuru. The show follows the lives of three friends — Yatu, Beju and Doja — as they learn to survive the unforgiving city of Lagos.

EDH is a commentary on the human condition. Through its authentic humor, colourful characters and imaginative storytelling, the show addresses universal themes facing young people in the world today.

Vision

Our goal is to sell EDH to a major network. These wuruwuru episodes are like a proof-of-concept, but we need the infrastructure of a network to properly develop and distribute the show.

Our approach is to build the series piece by piece. Each new episode will be better than the last in terms of storytelling, animation, and marketing. To fund this, we’ve raised $10k through Independent Arts.

1: Pilot

We published the EDH pilot on May 1, 2023. As of today, we have:

• 1.1k views, 60% from X and IG
• Audience primarily in NG
• 55 followers on TikTok

2: Beju’s Prayer

For Episode 2, our goal is to demonstrate international appeal for the show. We hope to increase views from 1k to 20k while marketing internationally. After achieving this, we’ll start pitching to studios.

But at some point, I stopped being excited about them. I cultivated this idea that birthdays aren’t that serious and “everyone” thinking about me at the same time is an unpleasant thing.

Thing is, it really can be overwhelming to have a lot of people reach out to me on the same day. I can’t tolerate unread messages, so my DMs just end up feeling like a todo list.

I love a quiet birthday, for sure. But in a bid to avoid attention, I often throw the baby with the bath water. Occasionally I forget that the most important thing about birthdays is pausing to celebrate myself.

That’s another 365 days around the sun. Congrats!

I’ve just moved to London and into a lovely flat. I set up a management company for my projects. I quit my job to take a 6-month sabbatical in August. I’m of good health and in a safe environment. I’m working out regularly, writing consistently and cooking better. I’m able to provide for myself and my people. I have love on tap.

None of this was promised, and none of it is assured. I’m grateful.

The new flat has a terrace, and I think I can make a beautiful garden here. There’s a Yucca tree in the corner and the walls are crawling with Ivy. I’m taking contributions, if you’d like to help: https://opemipo.craft.me/fOEuyYNosnaSCf

Happy birthday to me!

I spoke at The Huddle last month about the studio. It’s my first talk in a long time and a great opportunity to watch me fidget for an hour.

What’s up

• Noro: We’re still working on our next studio collectible: 6 one-of-a-kind stools for storing vinyl records and more. We’re down to marketing and packaging design, and preparing to launch in July.
• E Dey Happen: We just completed the first draft for episode 2 and it’s so great! We got some really positive feedback from Annecy last week, so I’m excited to release this next story.

  What’s next

• Funding: We’re applying for grants to set up a team. We applied for DBACE last month and didn’t get in, but the experience helped improve our application for Supporting Act.
• Selling: I’m setting up an online store to fund studio operations. I’m still unclear about what approach to take, but I’m inspired by sites like MSCHF, Present & Correct, Made in Japan and UNITOM.

Those were the first words from my mum on the phone.

I don’t have a lot of memories of my grandma, but I’m sure she has many of me.

She raised me as a kid, and taught me to speak Yoruba. Every time we spoke, she’d call me all these glorious names (Oriki), and then ask me to send airtime.

“Akanni omo olufe”. This one particularly stuck with me.

My grandma’s name was Wura, and true to her name, she was golden.

She was the most agile, brilliant, entrepreneurial old woman I knew. Even at 91, she was on her feet, cooking for guests, juggling trades, representing communities.

But then she had a fall, and had to be mostly bedridden for the latter part of her life.

This was the most painful thing about her death.

A few weeks after my grandma died, the tears finally came.

I bawled like never before. I cried until there was mucus.

It felt weird because we only spoke occasionally, but the bond was there. And deep.

It felt like someone who was holding me had let go.

I wish I could say more about my grandma, but this is all I have.

My mum wrote an essay (The Passage), and she does a much better job.

Thank you for loving us, grandma. And thank you for waiting for Nife.

Eight years. That’s how long I knew you.

Seven days. How long it took me to cry.

That’s the thing - I’m kinda slow. Bad news usually hits like a foam brick. Zilch. Nothing. No feelings at first.

Then, a week later at midnight, playing the same sad song over and over again, I start to bawl. Ify! Ify! You really tried.

You’re the only person I know called Ifeyinwa. There is nothing as great as a child. I’m sure you told me the meaning once but I forgot. Now I won’t forget again.

I don’t yet have the words but I felt the need to say something. I want to stop the world for a minute and tell them about you. You would absolutely hate it, but you’re not here to stop me.

But I can’t delete them because if feels like denying (a version of) myself.

I used to have this Evernote journal from 2014 - 16 that had a lot of musings on work, my relationship and my experience at NYSC camp.

I forgot entirely about it until I was writing this essay. Thankfully Evernote is still alive, so I logged in and read through it. Realized just how much I haven’t changed. But it also reminded of why I publish to the internet.

Otherwise, all of this wouldn’t exist.

He focused too much on providing that he forgot how else to care.

He didn’t have to bring the most bread. He just had to make sure my mum was good. And if my mum was good, we’d be good.

But he got it wrong.

I’m conscious of the ways in which we’re the same.

Princess had a cold, and my instinct was to provide.

Let me buy a cough syrup. Tell me what to do.

I had a cold, and her instinct was to care.

Let me carry the bag for you. How’re you feeling?

I boiled a pot of water. Put your head over it.

For the past couple of months, I’ve “juggled” Paystack (Design and Terminal), wuruwuru and Helloworld. Inadvertently I’m approaching peak multitasking, so I’ve been feeling the need to cut down on ventures.

Princess and I were talking earlier and it occurred to me that Helloworld and wuruwuru are not really companies. They’re structures through which I express my technology and publishing interests. These corporate entities make it possible for me to operate and contract legally.

My studios are not ventures but infrastructure, so I shouldn’t feel the need to make a mission out of them. I should continue to focus on my interests and use the companies as vehicles for execution.

This also got me thinking about other structures through which I express my life e.g. my nationality, residency, housing, phone numbers and bank accounts.

Personal infrastructure.

I started by boiling chicken, looking to use some of the stock to sautee vegetables. Then I moved to blending bell peppers, looking to use it as sauce to put on the fish. I was going to leave out some peppers out to garnish the fish, but my blender went bad and I had to switch. Once this happened, I lost composure.

I ended up blending all the peppers, and then I realized I didn’t have tomatoes so I couldn’t make a stew. Which means I couldn’t make rice. I also didn’t have any vegetables, so the stock was only useful for a sauce. I tried to make fries, but my potatoes had gone bad. I decided to move on to the fish but it was still frozen, so I left it to thaw. And time continued to pass.

After about an hour, I returned to cooking. I cleaned the outside of the fish but not the entrials, then splayed the bell pepper mix on top and threw it in the oven. In the absence of rice and vegetables, I fried some plantain and bell pepper sauce, and then served. In all, I’d spent 3 hours.

The fish tasted nice but not cleaning the entrails resulted in a messy goo. The plantains weren’t nearly enough and the sauce was manageable.

My friends ate it joyfully, but I struggled to enjoy it. All I could think of was how shitty a job it was. How much time they’d waited and what little came out of it. I was so sensitive to any cackles from the living room. Were they laughing at me? Even after a full night’s sleep, it still torments me.

I struggle with things I’m not good at and I can barely tolerate ridicule. But I must, because that’s the only path to competence.

It’s been 365 days of knowing you. I have Linda to thank for pushing me out of my comfort zone, and Ozzy/TMT for leading me to that party.

I have a lot of love in my life and I’ve never been afraid of being alone, so somewhere in between, I decided against the hustle of romantic love. I commited to a quiet, solitary life and forgot what sits on the other side of that hustle - accountability, growth and the wonder of growing up together.

The last time I saw my friend Remi she asked if I was still single, and after hearing my (probably dismissive) answer, she said “We know your type. You’ll fall in love now and we won’t hear word.” In my head, I thought “bet”, but well… I lost (gladly). I found Princess and now you won’t hear word.

I’ve always wanted to prove that my life is different. That I make my own fortunes. That I won’t be subject to the expectations of people. It felt like everyone was going one way - finding a partner, getting married, having kids and attempting to live happily forever after - as if that’s the only option. As if there isn’t overwhelming proof that lives are made of clay and no two molds are the same. So I wanted a different path. Or so I thought.

But, as Kahlil Gibran wrote, “think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course”.

I can’t tell you exactly what changed. Many things changed. I changed. Not at once, but over days and weeks and months of having to look at myself and deal with the anxious boy terrified of things I can’t control. Over days and weeks and months of being loved fiercely and learning to love like that again.

Without a doubt, I want to be with Princess for the rest of my life. I’d have it no other way. I am no longer alone and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And I’m going to fight even myself to make this work.

I love you, Princess. Let’s make a different life together.

I still prefer Medium’s interface for writing though, and that’s what I need to fix. I need to make it so that writing on my blog is just as easy as writing on Medium.

But like, from first principles.

A new model for personal publishing.

There’s no consensus on what a Head of Design does. The title is just as new as the post-YC technology scene in Nigeria and most people are the first to hold this position in their company.

Design is also an umbrella term for a variety of disciplines, so the role is a unique blend of what the company does, the person’s experience and the structure of the organisation.

But I imagine there are similarities across context. As a designer, my job is to deliver great experiences to customers. As a leader, I’m expected to positively influence the business. And as a design leader, my goal is to build a great team. If you ask me, that’s the big idea.

To go into detail, my responsibilities as Head of Design at Paystack fall into four broad categories:

• Design Operations
• Design Direction
• Branding and Comms
• User Experience Design

Operations

Paystack is constantly evolving so design work is always in flux. The team needs to be able to respond to these changes and deliver excellent work quarter after quarter. We also need to be intentional about managing our talent and developing our craft. And, for business continuity, all of this needs to happen with or without me.

Enter Design Operations. In a larger company (or far future), we might need a full-time team. But at our scale (17 designers), we opted for a working group with 2 design managers and 4 design leads. A few senior designers also stepped up to own specific functions. Essentially, about half the team juggles business deliverables and team responsibilities.

Together we refreshed our documentation, developed a new weekly calendar, redefined design roles, updated our hiring, developed a competency framework, improved performance management, started new learning and development programs, built more brand and product design systems, established a research and inclusive design process, ran a pilot talent program and developed a culture of writing and archiving.

We used the NNGroup’s DesignOps 101 framework as a guide and built out these functions one by one. By bringing the entire team into the process, we also managed to develop operations as a shared responsibility.

As Head of Design, I need to keep this engine running.

Direction

As director, it’s my job to align the team towards impact. I need to have a pulse for what customers are experiencing, what the business needs, each designer’s strengths, and juggle all of this context to guide the team towards creating valuable work that moves everyone forward.

The other part is maintaining a high level of craft. As top designer, I’m ultimately responsible for the experience of the Paystack product and brand. If we get it right, every design outcome should be just as great as the most skilled person on the team would produce. This requires a culture of continuous feedback, adaptive systems and honest critique that encourages a collective standard of quality over individual excellence.

Ergo, my role as director is to promote collaborative practice by encouraging positive team values, shaping the design roadmap, aligning design leads, inventing production systems, refining design processes, promoting continuous feedback, sharing good ideas, implementing co-working sessions, organising fireside chats etc.

Branding

I also run the Paystack Design Studio, an in-house production studio for branding and marketing communication. Well, technically. For the most part, the studio runs itself and I manage by proxy.

Every colour, image or website you experience as Paystack is made by this team of seven. We produce graphic and motion design assets for social media and marketing campaigns. We also design, build and maintain all Paystack websites, including the content management systems.

The studio relies a lot on local collaboration. We actively look for opportunities to work with independent creators in regions where the company operates.

UX Design

Everyone else is a UX designer, including myself. UX designers are assigned to a product team with PMs, engineers and co. These teams are tasked with either launching a new product, maintaining an existing one or serving a select group of customers.

UX Design covers a lot of disciplines. You need to understand the user need, synthesise a solution, communicate it clearly, design a prototype, test the solution, refine the build, set goals, measure performance and repeat the loop until the need is met or the desired experience is delivered. It requires a lot of commitment and iteration. At any point I’m usually focused on building out the UX for one product or feature while I rely on direction and feedback to influence outcomes for everyone else.

UXD also extends beyond production into distribution and maintenance. I work with teams like Marketing and Revenue to take products to market. I also work with PMs and Data Analysts to proactively study data and get feedback from users to understand what’s working and what to improve.

Of all my responsibilities, I enjoy this one the most. It’s a continuous act of service that also involves a lot of invention.

I wrote this essay for designers at Paystack but then decided to share it publicly as a contribution to the community of self-taught design leaders figuring it out one quarter at a time.

Also, the recent restructuring affected a good number of people on my team who worked really hard to build this structure we have today. I hope you feel proud of your work. Thank you for everything!

💙

On one hand, I’ve always been able to make money through sheer grit and hard work. I’ve earned an income since my first year of uni.

On the other hand, I was never able to keep or grow money. My mum taught us to save, but it never became a habit for me. My mum taught us to invest, but the paltry dividends from the NSE were never attractive.

And so until recently, “making money” seemed out of my reach. I’d often tell people I was good with work but not with money. I also felt a bit of fear — like thinking about money would corrupt me.

My philosophy was not to deep it too much: focus on doing great work and the money will come. And it worked, so I never had to change.

The most I ever earned without work was in 2018 when I bought $700 worth of ETH and it became $23k literally overnight. But I learnt nothing about investing from this experience. Instead, I bought a BMW.

I now believe people really only start to think about money when there’s a forcing function.

For some, that function is the condition of their birth. Maybe you grow up having to fend for yourself or your family. Or maybe you grow up around wealthy people who intentionally shape your mentality.

For others, that function is growing up. Maybe you move to a new city with a higher cost of living. Or maybe, like me, you get a windfall, spend it down to a fraction, and then start to worry about not being able to afford your new quality of life.

In hindsight, one thing is clear to me: if you’re lucky enough to not have to worry about money, don’t wait until your forcing function.

In July, I reached out to a bunch of friends who I felt understood money to advise me on what to do with the rest of my payout.

Everything they taught me is easy to find on the internet and in books, but there’s something about hearing it from your friends.

My new philosophy, shaped by their advice, boils down to this:

• Money is many things, but most importantly a life skill. Refusing to think practically about it just delays the inevitable.
• It’s less about how much I have in the moment and more about how I think about it. Having a good mental model is crucial.
• Like any other subject, I need practice to get better at money. I read widely but things didn’t make sense until I started trying them out.
• Time is the most important ingredient in building wealth. Compound interest is designed to reward patience.
• Cash is often the least productive form of money. Securities are a better way to hold value, especially when I don’t need it.

Spending

In the money equation, the easiest variable to control is spending, which makes it the most important. A good money system requires you to be on top of your spending. Businesses understand this more than people.

My first lesson was to separate my income from my expenses, thinking about “how much I need to spend” differently from “how much I can make” and bridging them with “how do I use my income”.

In the first half of the year, I moved back to Lagos and cut down on extraneous and impulsive spending. In the second half, I tightened things up by delegating a separate expense account. Having to move money to spend it has improved my consciousness.

Princess and I also started setting weekly spending limits, unrealistic at first. Setting these limits has been a good way to figure out how much I really need to spend. In the past, my budget was not based on any real science so I often inflated my needs. Doing this with her also makes me more accountable, which is important to any form of self control.

This gets exponentially more difficult when you have dependants, so I bet it’s better to build this habit earlier than later.

Income

My old philosophy of money over-indexed on labor: to make more money, do more (or more lucrative) work.

While this worked, the problem with relying entirely on grit for making money is that it robs me of time — to be, to play. It means that most of my waking hours have to be commercially productive.

My job has been my sole source of income since 2016, and the Stripe payouts have been a significant stream. So I’ve had reasonable capital for some time, but I only just learnt to use it this year.

“Why not invest the money you have and spend the interest you make on top of it?” sounds like common sense. But until now, it wasn’t an option for me. Investing felt like such a complex topic that I felt better not thinking about it at all. Again, ignorance and fear.

Short term, I need to continue to improve my income (payouts don’t last forever except you work in the Nigerian government). But long-term I want to earn enough interest that I don’t need to spend from my income.

Investing

ETFs.

Everyone I asked said the same thing: the best thing to invest in as a noob is either Treasury Bonds or Exchange Traded (Index) Funds. These securities work best for new investors because they’re least risky. Treasury Bonds are government-issued; ETFs are a basket of stocks.

Investing is basically betting on entities (companies, governments). The higher the risk, the higher the potential reward (or loss).

I started with index funds and gradually increased my risk. With the more volatile securities like single stocks and crypto, I invested small amounts over time to be more efficient (dollar-cost averaging).

Buying these assets made me realise just how little access I have to the global financial system as a Nigerian passport holder. The new wave of investment apps that make it possible to invest in US stocks, real estate and crypto make such a huge difference.

Results

It’s been six months now, and my average rate of return is 25%. The short term luck is encouraging.

I invested simply: US and global index funds, a real estate mutual fund, semiconductor stocks and infrastructure crypto projects. I chose things that made sense to me and bet with the long term in mind.

With these buckets I now have a clearer sense of where any extra income should go. I also need to improve my cash holdings by finding a higher yield savings account.

Investing is a long term game and I can lose just as much as I’ve earned, but the initial results have been great.

Making money is not so scary after all, ba?

Show and Tell was this time last year. If you couldn’t make it, check out wuruwuru.com/showandtell.

This year it was Sample Chief Social.

Sample Chief is a collective that researches and promotes African music history on Instagram, TikTok and Twitter. They also regularly host events in London, Toronto and Montreal.

We partnered with Sample Chief to produce their first event in Lagos. As part of the event, we also presented an exhibition of 8 Nigerian funk vinyl records published between the 70s and 90s.

We did some research into the history of the covers to discover the artists and designers who created this golden era of Nigerian music.

Read here: albumcoverbank.com/funk

Hanky Panky is now on YouTube!

My favorite comment so far is this one.

Throughout the making of the film, I never considered how bad the traffic looked in the final shot. 😭 💀

Feel Good is also live!

I really enjoyed publishing the stories on the weekend, and in a sense it felt like an internet performance.

Over 6k people have visited so far. Twitter has been the biggest source of traffic, with majority of readers from Nigeria.

Although the Feel Good website is done, we’re kind of just starting.

On one hand, the stories are now free to read online. Our goal there is to reach every country and get up to 50k readers.

On the other hand, the plan is to recoup production costs by selling a limited edition physical book. We’re also making t-shirts, crop tops and stickers to crowdfund production of the book.

Every time I try, I just start crying.

Eventually, I’ll write it. But just not yet.

Right now, I’m very busy. I’m working.

There’s so much to fix. Better to focus on that instead.

So much is going right in my life. So much good and so much sad.

The restructuring was a good decision for the company.

But a painful decision for the people.

But we say the company is the people.

I guess the people that remain.

I feel like I betrayed my friends.

I haven’t spoken to Taru this week.

I keep asking how she’s doing, as if a different answer will come.

I promised Fado I’ll reach out.

I told Sattar we’ll see.

I don’t know if I’m lying again.

wuruwuru is a community studio from Lagos. We’re an internet-based collective that works with independent creators to fund, design, produce and distribute passion projects. We educate and sustain creative talent by building communities of practice to create spirited works of art.

The studio is starting a second life as a non-profit! Our application for the business name Independent Arts LTD/GTE has been granted, and we’re now just waiting for the Attorney General’s approval.

Here’s our ground zero:

Talent. Over the past three years, we’ve met and worked with some of the most talented people in Lagos. If we don’t know how to make something, we know someone who does.

Management. We know how to work with artists remotely. We’ve produced a comic, a board game, a digital archive, a digital book, two animated shorts and six events using just Notion, Basecamp and WhatsApp.

Operations. We have some of the best people helping the studio with project management, social media, finance and legal. Our documentation is great and communication structures are well established.

Product. We now have three flagship products: LUDO (Yadi), E Dey Happen (Eris) and Feel Good (Daniel). We’ll continue to develop them with the goal of making each one a self-sustaining business.

Money. Each product is funded by a donor who gets producer credits, a stake in the business (if it becomes commercial) and a gift from the studio. We’ll rely on grants and eventually crowdfunding for running the studio and sponsoring creative programs.

Distribution. About 150 or so people follow our social media accounts, and we’ve gotten a lot of word-of-mouth because of the events in Lagos and London. I’ve also made important connections in the UK and Europe and we’re starting to get global press.

I think we’re finally ready for this community studio business.

The studio will close for the year on Dec 1, 2023. Our last sprint is called Sankofa, an Adinkra symbol that reminds us to look back at the past as we continue to design the future.

Distribution

Feel Good — _Daniel, Eris, Ikaay, Studio Null _After two years (see #31), we’re finally launching Feel Good! The stories will be published over the next month. Join us at afeelgoodbook.com.

Hanky Panky — _Daniel, Princess, Tunmise _The YouTube premiere for Hanky Panky is scheduled for December 3. We’ve reached out to a handful of local and international blogs for press ahead of the release. I’m looking forward to more critical reviews and conversations when this goes public.

Cover Bank — _Helloworld _The Album Cover Bank is now maintained by Helloworld, a separate studio I also run. Helloworld builds technology services for cultural production and is better staffed to maintain code and content for the archive. We’re currently working on a feature with Its Nice That.

Production

E Dey Happen — _Eris, Ivie _Eris has shared and edited the script for episode 2! Ivie is back on the team and working on storyboards.

Nọrọ — _Chuma, Stark, Rowland _We commissioned 10 Noro stools from Chuma to reward studio donors. Stark and Rowland are designing new packaging and a documentary.

Operations

Registration — Williams, Doris We’re looking to complete the non-profit registration by year-end.

Accounts — Williams, Tosin We’ll do a financial audit for Helterskelter and pay taxes.

Contracts — Williams, Saratu We’ll sign our first contract with the Independent Arts entity.

I think this is why religion is so popular. See also sports, music, work and all the creative activities that manage to transcend ethnic divisions. Because most of us are not actively involved in nation building, these are the things we find shared identity in. Politics may be irreversibly biased, but with a shared goal, you can suspend your animosity for the next man.

Religion and popular culture can provide a temporal sense of shared identity, but I think the true gem is history. Archives are so important to a shared identity. You cannot be something you don’t remember. And just like my family identity is lost to me except it’s passed down in stories and pictures, my national identity is similarly lost if I can’t access it.

But I digress; this is a story about the airport.

When you get to the “Nigerian gate” at an airport, you can feel it in the air. Regardless of the mix of people, you can feel the hustle, the curiosity, the energy, the anxiety, the intensity and the pride of the Nigerians. It doesn’t matter what tribe, religion or socioeconomic status, there’s a certain levelling that happens at the airport, and this creates the strongest sense of Nigerian identity I’ve personally experienced.

The transience of the airport creates a kind of safe space. The shared destination creates something for people to bond over and complain about. And the rudeness and animosity of airport staff often creates a common defensiveness among us travellers.

What it means to be Nigerian is so broad and diverse that it must encompass the entire human experience. Pride and shame are both sides of the same coin. I am just as Nigerian as everyone else — no more, no less. Nowhere else is this more real for me than at the airport.

You can try it out yourself at https://dotch.app. If you have any feedback, please send to dotch.app@gmail.com.

Technical Design

I built the frontend with Vue 3 and the backend with Node JS. The API has two routes: POST /scan and GET /receipt/:id.

It all starts from the frontend. A WebCam component takes a photo using HTML5 navigator and prints that image onto a canvas.

The frontend sends the image to the server as a Base64 file, which is then formatted and passed to the Mindee Node JS client for parsing.

const getDocument = async (request) => {
  let base64String;
  const parts = request.parts();
  for await (const part of parts) {
    if (part.value) base64String = part.value;
  }
  if (base64String.includes(";base64,")) {
    base64String = base64String.split(";base64,")[1];
  }
  try {
    const inputSource = mindeeClient.docFromBase64(
      base64String,
      "receipt-data",
    );
    const apiRequest = mindeeClient.parse(
      mindee.product.ReceiptV5,
      inputSource,
    );
    const apiResponse = await apiRequest;
    const { document } = apiResponse;
    return document.inference;
  } catch {
    return null;
  }
};

Mindee returns the document type, labels and line items. I use this to decide if the document is a receipt. If it is, I filter out the important information and send it back to the client to display.

const isReceipt = (document) => {
  const { documentType, lineItems } = document.prediction;
  const docIsReceipt = documentType.value.toLowerCase().includes("receipt");
  const hasLineItems = lineItems.length > 0;
  const docIsConfident = documentType.confidence > 0.6;
  return docIsReceipt && hasLineItems && docIsConfident;
};

const filterReceiptFields = (prediction) => ({
  merchant: prediction.supplierName.value,
  date: prediction.date.value,
  currency: prediction.locale.currency,
  items: prediction.lineItems,
  taxes: prediction.taxes,
  tax: prediction.totalTax.value,
  total: prediction.totalAmount.value,
});

Notes

• There’s no database yet. I’m hoping to implement lowdb in the future but for now I use a variable to store uploaded receipts. This means every time the server is restarted, all receipts are refreshed. You can see the code on Glitch here: https://glitch.com/edit/#!/dotch
• The line items are often wrong. For best results, put the receipt on a flat surface and clean your camera. I need to improve the isReceipt logic to aggregate the confidence score per line item and if it’s too low, request a better image from the client.
• ChatGPT and Copilot were such a great help! I still used Google and Stack Overflow for specific issues, but sparingly. Here’s a log of all the requests I asked ChatGPT for: https://chat.openai.com/c/071b04c2-553f-4a64-af1b-b74b95020ff4 What next?

I’m testing, getting feedback and improving the app in my spare time. You can try it out yourself at https://dotch.app. If you have any feedback, please send to dotch.app@gmail.com.

Notes

• It was super nice to have an idea and ship it in a weekend + some: https://medium.com/p/87853030bb21
• I think the web is still the best platform for building mobile apps. The speed of deployment and global accessibility is unmatched by closed platforms like Android and iOS.
• Most mobile web apps feel janky, but Dotch feels sturdy and well-built. I used a lot of CSS e.g. fixed positioning and transitions to achieve this seamless feel.
• Vue is the best frontend framework, honestly.
• I played around with AI and wow! Writing code with ChatGPT + Github Copilot was magical and saved me so much time. I’ll probably never need Google or StackOverflow again.

• Another fun AI thing I did was generating voices for the About page. It was a random idea I had (why don’t we use more audio on the web) and I trained one of the voices based on mine (ended up not using it). Play around

• View it live https://dotch.app (try out the About page)
• Code here https://github.com/helloworld-ng/dotch

A friend once asked me “why do you always try to be good?”.

There’s a thin line between being good for being good sake, and being good for fear of being bad. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference.

Some of the problems: prioritising other people at the expense of my own feelings, suppressing my emotional reaction to bullshit, refusing to stand up for myself to avoid confrontation, rabid delusion and a compulsion to come out of every situation feeling like “I did the right thing”.

I don’t want to be afraid of being bad.

I don’t want the burden of being good.

I just want to be.

Over the last two weeks, I got to hang with Johan, Tobias, Andrea, Ida, Ømjer, Gunnar, Henrik, Carl-Nicolai, Marianna and Garth. They were kind, welcoming, hilarious, hardworking, excellent, flawed, enterprising, stylish and everything in-between. Princess was also here for a few days!

This story starts from a cold email. A cold email that became an opportunity. An opportunity that ended in disappointment. A disappointment that was a blessing in disguise. And a blessing that just came full circle.

I’m proud of myself for making this trip. It was perfect.

20/8/2015

Hi,

I’m Aikomo Opemipo, a 23 year old Nigerian and I’ll like an opportunity to intern with Bakken & Bæck in January 2016 as a front end developer. I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Engineering from OAU last July. My National year of service will be over in November and I’ll like to intern for at least six months before my masters.

I currently work with Delivery Science here in Nigeria (deliveryscience.co) as a front end engineer and I handle the interface and logic for most of our apps. I also run helloworld.ng as a co founder and only designer.

Some Things I’ve built

• Co-founded and designed devcenter.co, an aspiring community for developers in Nigeria.
• Co-founded and designed beta.peerducate.com, code collaboration app
• Designed lostinlagos.com
• Designed grumi.com.ng
• Designed and wrote the backend for an app to make sense of bank account statements in Rails and Angular at cruncher.helloworld.ng. PS: (I’ve attached my old bank sheet that can be used to run this)
• Designed payrollplus.co and wrote most front end code
• Designed and wrote the front end code for fastornot.ng to test internet speeds in Nigeria
• Currently organising and working on open source projects at devcenter-square

Stuff I can do

I’ve been writing code for two years, and can use

• HTML/CSS
• Javascript/Jquery
• Angular JS
• Ruby on Rails
• Visual Design Applications (Sketch, Photoshop)
• Source Control Software (Git)

I’m also actively improving my code readability and visual design.

I’m applying because I want an opportunity to learn and advance outside of my country. I also will benefit from practical exposure to an established design team in deciding what part of design to study for a masters. I’m also willing to learn skills to advance digital design here in Nigeria after my studies.

I hope this is consideration enough. If you need any more information from me, please let me know. I’ll really appreciate the opportunity.

Cheers,
Opemipo.

5/1/2016

I hope the team is well! Happy New Year, man.

I just got my response from the embassy and I was rejected. The reason wasn’t included so I’m trying to sort that now. I’m also considering appealing but regardless I’ll be re-applying as soon as I’m back to Nigeria in April. I’ll keep you up to date frequently.

Thanks.

10/1/2017

Hi Johan,

Happy new year, man! I’ve wanted to send this for a while now but I kept delaying it.

Even if I couldn’t get a visa to come through to intern for Bakken&Baeck last year, I’m super grateful for the opportunity you offered. I went on to join a Nigerian startup paystack.com as the product designer / front end engineer and that’s been great.

I’m still following your company and all of the interesting projects you’re working on. You guys are great. I will apply for a visit visa early this year, and if I do get it this time, I look forward to coming over to say hi.

Once again, happy new year.

14/8/2022

Hi Johan! The last time you heard from me was five years ago — I hope you still remember me.

If not, a quick reminder: I’m Opemipo, from Nigeria. I emailed you in 2015 about interning at Bakken & Bæck. I couldn’t get a visa then, so I ended joining a startup instead.

Since then, a lot has changed. The company I helped found was acquired in 2020, I now lead a team of 19, and I’ve also been making publishing experiments for about two years now.

I’ve never stopped talking about you/BB, and I religiously keep up with Medium posts, new roles, and updates to your website. Still a big fan :)

I’m planning to visit Oslo next year, and I hope to be able to stop by the studio. In fact, I’d love an opportunity to work from your studio for the duration of my stay. I think I’ll learn a lot just being around you and your team.

I’ve been in London a few times over the years and considered visiting the office there, but I’m inexplicably drawn to Oslo. Okay, maybe not inexplicably: it still feels like something I was supposed to do, and I like to finish what I start.

I’d love for us to chat — so I can plan my visit, but also just to catch up.

Please let me know your availability. It’ll be such a pleasure.

Hopefully, talk soon.

20/8/2023

Hi Johan, I’m in Oslo! Arrived today. Let me know when to stop by the office.

Album Cover Bank

We completed the website for the archive (albumcoverbank.com) in July and organised a Show & Tell at 16/16. It was incredible. Yinka Bernie (Egwu Records) opened with a vinyl set of older Afrobeat, Fuji, Funk, Highlife and Juju music, Immaculata read her published essay Face the Music, a commentary on how 1970s covers reflected individual and national identities, and I closed with a retrospective of Niyi Okeowo’s album cover work. Tomiwa recently published an essay on the making of the archive, and I’ve reached out to one of my favourite publications for press.

Hanky Panky

We screened Hanky Panky in London earlier this month. Princess and Jade organised — chose the venue, planned the show, and invited a lot of the guests. We screened alongside Dawta (Jessica Ashman) and Pass the Meerkat (9ine Degrees). Princess interviewed Chuks and I, and I interviewed Jessica and Deji. The conversation was largely about animation production and distribution, and it was really a great time.

The screening was staged to show the film to a new audience and expand the studio’s network, both of which we achieved. Everyone thought the film was great, which was really flattering given the amount of talent in that room. I also met people in media who I’m now speaking to about distribution. Looking to show the film at two more London festivals and figure out what the online premiere should be.

LUDO

LUDO is now sold out! We started talking about it in July (last year), kicked off production in October, put it up for sale in February and sold out this month. This is the first studio project that has made any money (20% profit) and it has been an education in running a creative business. Not sure what comes next, but we’ll see.

PS: We got featured in Contemporary And. Exciting times.

Feel Good

Issac and Seyi (Studio Null) are making amazing progress with Feel Good. We’re branding the stories individually and Ife Aminu has created fantastic illustrations to match. Ikaay has also just joined the team to help with social media in preparation for an October launch.

Also

• Still working on the Friends of 16 app
• We’re planning for a season of E Dey Happen

The Book of Mormon has been in my face in probably every major city I’ve been to recently so I’ve wanted to see it for a while. Finally, a few days ago, I get tickets for two and excitedly carry Princess along. But ooops. It was so racist we left the theatre halfway.

If you read the ratings on TripAdvisor, they fall into two camps: mostly white people saying the show was great and the music was nice and anyone who didn’t like it should grow a sense of humour, and mostly black or queer people saying the show was racist.

The play is written by the same guys who wrote South Park (which kinda tells you what to expect). I love dark humour so I expected to enjoy it. I came to laugh at the christian white saviour complex but got more than I could chew. The plot — about two young missionaries in Uganda — leans on so many tropes about the continent like poverty and AIDS and warlords who mutilate women’s genitals.

The parody of it all makes academic sense. Maybe if I was a white person sitting in that sea of white people watching a caricature of Africa complete with music and dance, it would be easy to “get it”. Obviously we all know Africa is better than that. Right? The show is simply making fun of how “those white people” see it. Right?

But here’s the thing about a caricature: it still shows the thing. As the only two Nigerians sitting among (literally) 1,000 white people laughing at silly, slapstick jokes about impoverished Africa and white supremacy, it was impossible to enjoy. It was deeply uncomfortable to sit in that theatre and wasn’t worth any of the other jokes. Half the time I couldn’t understand what was funny — it just felt like they were laughing at us.

For many hours after we left, I was still visibly upset. If I wanted to take my girlfriend to get roasted for 3 hours, I would have paid one of our friends. On the flip side, it was an introduction to a world that doesn’t care about me or my feelings. It made me think about capitalism and the politics of humour. Because even if all black people refuse to watch it, it will still be one of the “funniest”, most successful shows of the decade.

Anyway, after I calmed down I started searching for “book of mormon racist”. I felt like I should have seen something that said “if you’re an African going to watch this show, prepare to be the butt of the joke”. But there just wasn’t enough of that. Consider this my humble contribution.

The only other black people in the audience were a single lady and a guy with his white partner. I wonder what they thought about it.

Because man, I’ve been so afraid and anxious. Afraid of shame and conflict. Anxious about people. Afraid of being too simple for the world. Anxious about being popular or having the centre of attention. Afraid of romantic love and attachment. Afraid of responsibility. Anxious about money. Afraid of throwing it all away. Always on guard. Trying to be in control. Calculating, calculating, calculating so unconsciously, it no longer even resembles fear.

And then I come home — to save money I think, but slowly I realise — to save myself. It’s so much easier to be a stranger in the world than a boy at home. Nowhere else triggers my anxiety like this fucking city. The weight of expectation is so heavy. Everything is here, everyone is here (even when they’re not). But now I’ve stayed long enough that I’ve had to deal with many of the things that scare me, one after the other. And looking back now, I’m grateful for all of it. An education I didn’t sign up for, but one I desperately needed.

My whole thing is constant self improvement, but this time feels like such a leap. Like my adult self is now in front and the child no longer has to be on guard. I can engage with the world and hold complex ideas about myself and others. I’ve reconnected with my odd sense of humour and want to share my opinions more often. I can accept love and responsibility. The man knows, better than the boy, that pain is inevitable but misery is a choice. All of these difficult feelings make up the experience.

Relax, sweet boy.

The major difference was the cost of animation: the original animators for HP dropped off, and we had to hire a new team, so we ended up paying twice. The first bill was ~ NGN 2.5m (~ $5k at the time), and the second was similar. We also paid for motion graphics (~ $1k). This brought the cost of animation alone to about $11k.

Also, we also had to work with two different music producers (again, double payment), and because it took so long to complete, the cost of final sound production cost was higher by the time we were done (because, inflation). We also made a documentary for Hanky Panky, and paid to submit it for awards. All of this racked up the cost.

With EDH, we took a different approach from the offset:

• We went with an easy animation style (and focused on story)
• We hired a friend to animate (vs. a studio)
• We bought music (vs. producing from scratch) All of which resulted in a cheaper, faster production.

I also talked to more people about the studio and got a lot of good advice. Thanks to Emmanuel, I discovered mschf.com and it has sparked a lot of ideas for me. Most immediately, like MSCHF and other creative brands we’ll be presenting completed projects as numbered“drops”.

how to make an animated short in lagos

Shot in November and published in April, the documentary for Hanky Panky is finally up! Bankole did great with the videography and absolutely saved the colours (I almost made it black and white). Kayode was excellent with the cut. Daniel was articulate and brilliant. Joshua was delightfully animated. Osarumen and Ifebusola looked very cool. And my cameo was chef’s kiss. I wish we got everyone else — Oshuwa, Chuks, Kolade — but I’m glad with the outcome.

What’s next

#4: E Dey Happen Pilot

We’ll kick off next month with a premiere of Eris and Ivie’s film. E Dey Happen is an animated series about work, and May 1 is perfect for announcing the pilot.

Production

Other stuff we’ll probably be working on in May:

• Album Cover Bank: wrap up and publish website
• Spectrum: complete editorial and figure out production cost
• Aba Made: publish research on industrial design
• Friends of 16: design app for booking

Website 3

I’ve been prototyping a new website that better captures what the studio has published. I plan to write the code when I can make the time, but I really could do with some help. I don’t usually ask because it’s harder to hold people accountable when they’re not being paid. But if you have time and space to help build this, please email me.

Carlston says we’re not going too far. He mentions one of the big hotels in the area and I imagine a fancy spa like the one at ours. But when the Tuktuk stops a few minutes later, we’re smack in the middle of the road.

We bid our hitchiker goodbye and a woman joins us. They’re speaking in Swahili so I can’t follow. I suspect the conversation has something to do with my massage, but she doesn’t introduce herself, and I don’t ask.

Eventually, Carlston comes over to say we have to walk into the settlement. I don’t see any spas or hotels around, but okay!

The area reminds me of my family house in Ipaja, but from like a decade ago when we first moved. There’s a litter of quaint bungalows, half-completed storey buildings, a few villas with very high walls, but mostly it’s open, green and brown.

At first I think we’ll end up in one of the nice houses with decorated gates, but as we walk past villa after villa, it becomes more apparent what’s (not) happening here. Through all of this – by the way, no one is saying anything.

After walking some distance in silence, I break the ice. I make a joke about how disappointing it‘d be to have to walk back so far after getting a relaxing massage. In the same tone, I ask “how do you even get customers here”?

We all laugh, so at least I know they understand me.

We arrive at our destination, and it’s someone’s house! I count three buildings, two of them completed below the decking. The compound is littered with small trees and fallen leaves, and a playful puppy (Lula) sprints at me.

Christine finally introduces herself and explains: we’re supposed to be at a spa, but she’s having problems with them and no longer has access to the space. So the massage is going to happen here, in her home.

There’s a massage chair in the compound and I suspect I’m about to get my service in the open! It’s so surreal (and unsanitary), but I’m down. We settle on a back massage.

On our way to Christine’s, I noticed a small hut with a cooking station at the entrance to an establishment. There was a bungalow to one side, but most of it was an open field with small trees and handmade furniture. Two men and a woman were seated outside.

Seeing food makes me hungry, so I ask Carlston if we can eat there. He says it’s a local pub and that we can get drinks too, so we agree to meet up there after my massage. As soon as Christine’s done, I head to the group.

I learn that we’re in Carlston’s area and he grew up with the trio.

The men — Simba and Tarzan — have long, matted dreads. The lady — Rose — is the owner of the pub. At first I think they’ve given me fake names, but by the end of the night I realise otherwise.

Simba’s the most enthusiastic, and he quickly declares himself a “crypto knight”. He talks about a lot of things: wanting to make his own cryptocurrency, wanting to build schools and hospitals, wanting to buy land in Kenya and Nigeria, Italians owning a bulk of the hospitality industry in Watamu, paying too much for a hotel after taking up a stranded traveller, etc. Tarzan and Rose are welcoming and participative but also cautiously quiet.

First I ask for a drink, and then some food.

I try not to assume everyone with dreads smokes weed, so you can imagine my relief when Simba asks. Palm wine, grilled fish, and now a blunt? Sitting the middle of trees, a gentle breeze, gist? Yes please!

A man called Uncle joins the table. He seems quiet and thoughtful, and only speaks in Swahili. He rolls the first joint while Tarzan clears the dishes. By this time, the group is a lot warmer and we’re all talking and sharing stories. The bar is co-run by Nas, Tarzan’s older brother, and they speak of him with a lot of respect.

I decide to stay a little longer.

By evening, a dozen more people join us and cluster in groups. I stay until dark to see the lights come on, and Rose and I take pictures for a website I promise to help her make.

The pub was a bushy dumpsite until Rose got permission to use it. She rallied her friends to clear it, they made furniture out of the cut-down trees and hung coloured lights over the rest. Now it’s a community pub, but she’s hoping to grow the business and attract tourists.

Just before I leave, Rose asks “If this was your place, what would you name it?”

“Forest”, I say. I’d call it Forest.

Operations

wuruwuru will produce work in seasons, and this one (Season 2) marks the beginning of our transition into a co-op. The studio will be run by me (director) and Williams (manager), with help from friends like Eris, Tomiwa, Temi, Tosin and Samson.

The director and manager are key roles for the studio. I set the vision while Williams helps with strategy and execution. We have equal voting rights to ensure there’s maker-checker control over studio resources, and we’re both responsible for recruitment and operations.

Everyone else starts out as a provisional member, and will be reviewed at the end of a trial period for confirmation. To make this decision fair and transparent, all volunteer work done for the studio (including writing this doc) will be recorded in a public document.

Direction

Each season, the studio director will select a bunch of projects to work on, to be funded using studio money. These projects can be anything from publishing experiments to new business models, but they should be achievable and follow similar guiding principles.

The director and manager will pair up to build the operational structure necessary to bring their ideas to life. Together, they’ll determine the time, people, teams and outcomes for each season. I’m directing the studio this season, but next time someone else will do it.

Finance

A working group led by the manager will be responsible for raising money for the studio. This function should run independent of project work.

We’re hoping to raise money through grants, family and friends, and crowdfunding. Occasionally, we’ll also make money from selling products and consulting. As of today, we have about 4 million in the bank: revenue from LUDO sales so far, Cover Contest commission fees, and assistant salaries until June.

Season 2

This season, we’re focused on Editorial. The plan is to produce and publish content that helps increase our audience by at least 10x.

On one hand, we’re looking to find more people to use and consume the products we’ve created. On the other, we’re looking to get the attention of more people willing to donate to the studio.

Releases

April: how to make an animated short in lagos

Our first release this season is a documentary for Hanky Panky called how to make an animated short in lagos.

May: Album Cover Bank 2.0

Up next, Tomiwa and Lina will launch a new website for browsing the album covers collected in Season 1.

June: Spectrum

In June, the studio will make a prototype for an affordable, locally-printed zine with excellent writing on ideas, design, people and communities.

July: Feel Good

Finally, we’ll close the season with Feel Good, a compilation of queer stories from Edwin Okolo, OluTimehin Kukoyi, Adeniyi Ademoroti, Olakunle Ologunro, Innocent Ilo, Ani Kayode, Mariam Sule-Izuagbe and Fareeda Abdulkareem.

The stories were compiled by Daniel Orubo and edited by Nneoma Kenure and OluTimehin Kukoyi, and will be released in an electric campaign that explores a new storytelling format on the internet. The digital experience will be directed and produced by Studio:Null.

Collaborations

We’re also working with three other studios:

• Friends of 16: building a new digital experience for 16/16
• roses roses: exploring the business of selling roses with KANAAL
• NOMAD: helping EIE Collective with a film screening

Act 1 of wuruwuru crescendo’d at the Show & Tell last December when we presented Hanky Panky, E Dey Happen and LUDO to an audience for the first time. It marked the end of two years of production experiments.

Since then, Daniel has sent Hanky Panky to festivals, Eris is looking to get E Dey Happen into an animation program, Tomiwa is following up with Album Cover Bank, and so far we’ve delivered 18 LUDO boards.

The next act is editorial.

After two years, I’ve come full circle to making a magazine, and this time, we may have what it takes: capital, organisational structure, a network of peers to learn from, a pool of talent to work with, a bed of content and most importantly, something to say.

Because of the studio, I’ve met a lot of interesting people and learnt much about making things and things made in Lagos. I want to document the best of these ideas, objects and people. I want to journal the process of making what we have in a teachable format, and I’d like to see people dig into the research we’ve gathered for insights.

Strategically, this is the next step in the studio’s long-term goal to build a support system for indie creators. I’m betting the kinds of stories we tell can attract a global audience of people who’re willing to drop money. The magazine is also an attempt to bring people with shared interests together and create space for ideas and conversations.

I need someone to lead this project.

An ideal candidate is someone who:

• Can do this job full time
• Writes beautifully
• Is interested in cultural documentation
• Has directed an editorial team of writers and designers
• Has produced multimedia content e.g. videos, podcasts
• Understands online publishing and distribution
• Can manage social media for multiple brands simultaneously
• Understands marketing automation tools like Mailchimp
• Can produce basic graphic design in Canva or Figma
• Communicates clearly
• Works in public
• Has managed people
• Can demonstrate systems thinking
• Is exposed to corporate finance
• Understands agile development
• Has an eye for editorial design

• Has a track record of making things Additionally, they should be someone who:

• Takes things seriously
• Doesn’t take things too seriously
• Is a good listener
• Pursues growth and learning
• Cares about typography
• Considers themselves an artist
• Is an independent thinker
• Has great visual taste
• Is digitally organised

Migration: I tried to move away but ended up moving around. It was good motion though, and now I have community in Nairobi and London. I’m still a few steps from integration, but I’m as close as ever to having other places that feel like home.

Community: I seeded a maker collective (wuruwuru), bonded with more folks at work, cultivated small circles of friends, and got closer to my mom and siblings. I withdrew from the internet significantly and was more intentional about the bounds of my reality.

Money: I stopped bleeding cash. No more studio salaries, no more big projects, no responsibilities, better savings, living within means, more conscious spending. In a surprising flash of adulthood, I kept all the receipts from setting up my Nairobi flat.

Well — new year, new themes.

1. Sustainability

I was pleasantly surprised by how much cooking I did last year, and I want to sustain this habit.

Also, swimming. I’m tired of saying “I can move around but I’ll drown if…”. I want to get comfortable enough to go diving later in the year.

Other “lifelong pursuits” I’d love to be consistent with are tennis, French, building my website and writing stories, but I have to be measured with my energy.

My first theme for the year is sustainability. Across travel, work, people, habits and hobbies, I want to do things sustainably so I can be more consistent.

2. Connection

Last year, my sense of responsibility clouded my sense of purpose and triggered an identity crisis. So I’ve been on a journey to rediscover myself.

I’ve hired — for the first time — an assistant and a coach, and I hope that by working with these people who need to understand me to help, I get to understand myself better.

Across my communities, there are also deeper layers of connection to achieve e.g. learning more about my family history, reaching out to friends consistently, bonding with older people, studying local ingredients and cuisines, creating space for the collective etc.

But I’m starting with myself. Refer to the first theme.

3. Discovery

I plan to be in Oslo later in the year, and the Bakken Baeck team has graciously offered to host me. Of all my trips this year, I look forward to this one the most. It’ll be the first time I’ve travelled for adventure — not community or relaxation — since the pandemic.

I’m also looking to try new things with dating and sex. For many reasons, I suck at meeting new romantic partners. I’ve been slowly opening up to this part of myself, but I’m struggling. Regardless, I hope it’ll be an interesting year of loving and being loved.

Connection is about building a deeper sense of self and place, and discovery is about allowing myself to experience new ideas, people, spaces and ways of being.

This might just be my year of LSD.

I’ve always distrusted the form of the personal essay because I recognize the lie here, recognize how easy it is to put together a satisfying narrative conclusion about an incident in my life, one that delivers on a certain promise made to the reader — a satisfaction entirely built on smoke. These neat, pat resolutions at best can only describe one facet of one’s life, at one particular moment. Meanwhile the rest of you — these parallel lives — remain messy, untidy, ambiguous, complicated.

Colin Dickey — Lateral Thinking

Future thinking like this never captures the complexity of my life or the often-chaotic state of my mind.

It doesn’t reflect all the things I struggle with — the insecurities, addictions, anxiety, confusion, the constant questioning.

It gives me clarity, and helps me to articulate where I want to be. If I can make it make sense in writing, then maybe I can do it in real life.

But it’s never as simple.

Keep that in mind.

I’ve been working pretty much non-stop since 2009, and in that time I’ve not really experienced burnout. I’ve always been able to motivate myself in the bleakest of situations, excel under high amounts of pressure, and know just when to rest. I’ve always cared a little too much about work because I’ve equally been good at managing stress.

Last month though, I caught a burnout. I tried to help coworkers who were exhausted and demotivated, only to end up there myself. Add that to rigorous weeks of planning and the stress of organising Show & Tell, and for the first time, I hit rock bottom.

Until last week, I wouldn’t even have described it as burnout. But I stumbled on literature about the subject and the symptoms were awfully familiar: work overload, lack of control, insuffucient rewards, breakdown of community, abscence of fairness and value conflicts.

Looking back, it seems pretty obvious why I flamed out. I went from intense empathy and assimilation to intense planning and organising. I thought I could handle it as usual, but falling sick after all of this was the straw that broke my camel’s back.

In the depths of my negativity, I wrote a letter to Shola about being tired of it all, resenting what the company is becoming, feeling trapped in my job, feeling alone among peers, and wanting to leave. I didn’t send the letter, but I’ve returned to it a few times.

As Paystack has gotten bigger, I’ve felt that the company is losing its ability to care. Not that it doesn’t care — but it will no longer move the Earth for one person. The problems are more complex. Inefficiencies are more rampant. Changes are more costly. It has become impossible to cater to individuals. I fell in love with a community, but now an abstraction loves me back.

And it’s not just Paystack. After the Show & Tell, I felt resentful about wuruwuru as well. I had other feelings, sure. I was proud to have made it happen. I was relieved it was over. The pictures were very satisfying. But underneath all of it was a loss of motivation and a sense of dissatisfaction, no matter how hard I tried to frame it positively.

Because of how costly and difficult it has been to work with people, wuruwuru has always felt like unrequited love. I find joy and motivation in completing projects and seeing people grow, but it has been a struggle. I’ve often had to remind myself that no one asked for this.

You know the thing they say about relationships — that the person who cares more will be hurt more. Well, it’s like that with work too.

All of a sudden, it feels like I’ve been caring too much for too long.

I’m usually optimistic and motivated, but in that hospital bed, pessimism felt more honest. I wanted to send the letter because I feared that when I got better, I’d forget the feeling. Now I’m better, and as suspected, I’ve lost the will to send. But it was good enough to write it.

I no longer feel as angry or resentful. I no longer want to quit everything abruptly. I realize that my commitment to the job is a commitment to the people. That my role will evolve, and I’ve been making progress towards this. That there’s an honest intention to be a different type of company. That we’re all trying. That this is an opportunity and I have a role to play.

But on the flip side, I’m afraid of caring too much again.

My experience at Paystack has been largely positive, and I want everyone to have that. But however responsible I feel, it’s simply not my problem to carry. Even if I tried, I couldn’t. What I can do is to set an example, pay more attention, help where I can and advocate for the type of company I want. I’m already positioned to do this, but what if nothing changes?

wuruwuru is also not done. There are still open projects, and even the complete ones have a trail of follow-up activities. My sense of responsibility is stronger than my desire to quit, so I have to make it work. My (hopefully) reasonable approach is to rethink everything from scratch: the people I’m working with, the way we work, and my expectations of the studio.

In a 2021 paper about mental resilience among students in a Singaporean university, the researchers outline five ways to address burnout:

1. Nurture relationships: As I return to work, I’m going to be more intentional about who I’m looking to for partnership and support. I keep looking sideways for peers, but I need to look in all directions. I’m going to pay more attention to people who are paying attention. I want to be a bridge to connect the best people at Paystack.
2. Focus on solving problems: One of the big ideas I’m interested in this season is how to create agency. One of the main frustrations of burnout is the feeling of victimhood and helplessness. The antidote to that is agency—not just for me but for as many people in the company. I don’t just want to solve problems; I want to help people solve problems.
3. Believe in your abilities: My problem here is less a lack of self-confidence and more a lack of conviction. I can do many things, but what do I really want to do? Can I truly differentiate my interests from my responsiblities? Can I excel outside of the safety of Paystack? Can I survive as an independent creator? Lots of digging for me to do here.
4. Identify the big picture: My mantra to the team as we restart the year is active listening. One of the benefits of a design role is that we comparatively have more time and space. We don’t have to deal with the ebb and flow of the business, which gives us space to really dig into the big picture and paint it for everyone else. Less bias for action, more articulation. As for wuruwuru, I’m also stepping back to re-evaluate the whys. The studio will run, but very gently.
5. Keep a positive perspective: Well, hopefully this one shouldn’t be too hard.

References

Burnout contagion: Managing and reducing socially-transmitted burnout

These 5 steps can help protect you from burnout

This condition is triggered by a sharp drop in things I have to think about. Because I can be so obsessive and engaged with work during the week, it can feel lonely when everything goes silent on Friday.

At first I don’t know what to do with myself, so I crave people. Then I end up on social media because the decision of who to reach out to can be paralysing. And of course, my sadness only gets worse. I’m suddenly reminded of all these other lives and I feel bad for being disconnected.

After wasting time feeling sad, I start to remember all the things I have to do: write something, work on my website, finish the Coursera, reach out to someone, try a recipe, finish a book, reply a text, plan for a trip, etc.

As it dawns on me how much time I owe myself, I realise that I actually want to be alone. I remember what it’s like to be with myself: eating, sleeping, reading, thinking, journalling, new music, old playlists, Mubi films, Netflix anime, and all the other things. It feels like I have purpose again, and the sadness dissolves.

Realising this pattern doesn’t make me immune to it. I still catch myself doing the sad boy routine before recognising it as the Friday Night Void. But when I finally do, I welcome it like an old friend.

And we’re done! In exactly two weeks, we’ll screen Hanky Panky to an audience for the very first time.

I’ve invited a small group of friends and makers to a private event where we’ll also present E Dey Happen, Album Cover Bank and LUDO. It’s been two years and this feels like a befitting close.

I’m also thinking about doing an online screening if enough people are interested. (Closed)

I consider this to be the end of “Season 1”.

It took two years, cost north of $70k and yielded two animated shorts, three websites, six databases and a custom Ludo board.

More importantly — and not as quantifiable — it evolved into a small community of makers. I connected with some really brilliant people. It was a reason to keep in touch with friends and it created space for us to play.

wuruwuru has been an outlet for old and new skills. I made posters, wrote code, directed films and experimented with org design. I learnt about comics, animation, sound production, publishing and wood making.

I think of it as a kind of graduate program for the team. We learnt how to work with strangers. How to set up a company. How to license a song. How to make websites. How to write. How to produce films. How to direct creators. And we did all of this remotely.

It really was an education.

The studio will continue to run next year, but we don’t need a team anymore. After December, we’ll stop paying salaries.

Projects will be handed off to their creators — Eris (E Dey Happen), Yadi (LUDO), Tomiwa (Album Cover Bank) and me (Hanky Panky, J Guide). Each of us is capable enough to run our thing, and if we ever need help, we can always consult the network. Williams and I will continue Feel Good.

I’ll work with Temi to define the network and come up a system for engagement, responsibility, reward, etc.

It’s not the end, but we’ve come to an end.

It has been two years well spent.

Worth it.

✨

I’ll start from the bad news: we still don’t have the radio song for Hanky Panky. It’s been one month since we sent the first email. The contract is signed but we’re waiting for the invoice and file.

Good news is I started the documentary anyway. Interviewed 4 people; 4 to go. And this was me on the day 👇🏾

I applied for S16 even though Hanky Panky isn’t done. If we complete it before then, cool. Otherwise, E Dey Happen could show.

Eris is done with the pilot episode. She’ll start with some marketing while we wait for S16 to respond. I’m a little anxious about the feedback. I know the organisers but also making no assumptions.

Album Cover Bank website looks good. Tomiwa is planning for launch on Dec 4 with some essays from the contest.

LUDO is in production — dice shipped, canvas printed, Kolom sampled, and we’re just working through it.

Feel Good is slow.

Bubs and I are planning an end-of-the-year party for makers.

Williams moved so he’s going through it.

I’m busy at work so I’m hanging on.

Carrying everything to the end.

Seeing how it all plays out.

Don’t know if I want to do this next year.

We’ll see…

(for real, in an aggregated way)

Haven’t dated in years. Work all the time. Travel like he’s running away from something. Struggling to accept leadership at a company he literally helped found. Always thinking about stupid shit. Emotional roller-coaster. Always doubting. Always considering all the exceptions while being aware he can’t know everything. Always feeling. Always fucking feeling.

Sigh.

It’s a relief to find other people like you sha.

And music too ❤️

I’ve gotten as far as linear regression and just learnt about the squared error cost function.

Recap

In a machine learning scenario, we’re given a dataset with m values of corresponding inputs x and outputs y.

The goal is to generate a function f(x) = wx + b that most “fits” (or best predicts) the dataset.

w and b are known as parameters of the function.

If the parameters are guessed correctly, the prediction of the function f(x) will always be close to or equal to the actual output y in the dataset.

In essence, the machine tries to guess what’s going on in the dataset through trial and error.

For a given input x(i), the model tries certain values of w and b, and compares the prediction y-hat(i) to the expected output from the dataset y(i).

By doing this over a number of values m, we can say the model fits the dataset if there is consistently little difference between the prediction and the output.

The model aggregates the errors by squaring them and dividing by the number of values in the dataset. This is the known as the cost function J.

The best combination of parameters generate a cost function that approaches zero.

Summary

Linear regression models intelligence by observing past data.

The better we can correctly predict past data, the better we can predict future data.

With the squared error cost function, the machine tries different parameters for the model and calculates how wrong each guess is.

The right model is the least wrong model.

I’m surrounded by kind, smart, interesting, funny, tasteful, ambitious and creative people who also happen to share a lot of my values. I know some super capable people with excellent minds.

Reflecting on how this has come to be, I can trace most people to either uni, Timi, Ezra or Paystack — and all because of the Internet. Everyone else is either family or people I met on the road.

The Internet has opened me to different worlds, and in each one I’ve found my tribe — over and over again. Social media and messaging apps also make it possible to carry those relationships over time and space.

Across all my connections — family, friends, followers, email subscriptions, work, the studio— I interact with thousands of people every year and probably have direct access to some 500+ of them.

For someone who dislikes “networking”, that’s fucking insane.

Day 1 of Wuruwuru and I spent all day writing and setting up tools.

First, the name is now lowercase “wuruwuru” 💅🏽. Counter-cultural movements like the bauhaus chose to use lowercase letters because it was easier to write, but mine is an aesthetic decision. It looks better lowercase.

Emails are now set up for Eseosa and Tomiwa…

Today, six people work at the studio. There’s me (director), Williams (manager), Eris and Tomiwa (production), Tosin (editorial) and Temi (we’ll figure it out). We work with about forty artists and friends.

I’ve also set up Notion for documentation, Basecamp for tasks, Airtable for research and Twitter for marketing.

I’m really proud that we’ve managed to get wuruwuru working remotely, especially because it started out really tough. Working with artists over the internet was a new challenge. It’s different from working with software designers / developers because they typically have some experience with distributed work. Artists, not so much.

Trust is really important in remote work, and it can only be built over time. In the beginning, I tried to get people to share on Basecamp but it didn’t work. It was either too confusing or too public. Things changed when I started using WhatsApp. I learnt when to DM first (to align), when to text in a small group (for consensus), when to text in the big group (to broadcast agreement) and when to post on Basecamp (to recap).

Newer projects like E Dey Happen and LUDO have run much more smoothly and are making faster progress because our communication structures have matured.

Wuruwuru is a playground for interesting ideas.

Yes.

We’re making multimedia stories about design and popular culture in Nigeria with the goal to eventually publish and sell a magazine.

We make passion projects.

The idea is to take an interesting question or topic and explore it with a visual essay, game, music album, animation, documentary, dataset or whatever best tells the story. The stories will be made with other independent makers and enthusiastic friends. We’ll also work on mini projects to learn how to create and sell high quality digital/printed goods.

This is more of an approach than the idea. The idea is now to create a community-run, community-funded support system for independent creators (including studio members) to make passion projects.

The experiment is to publish these stories online for free and later compile them into a magazine for sale. The magazine will also include internet education, how-we-made-it essays, interviews with collaborators and fun graphic design.

The new manifesto articulates the larger experiment.

We’re taking it one story/project at a time, starting with Bros J’s Guide. It’s an Instagram comic about learning to roll up, marketed with a trifold brochure (tract). The booklet will be made of cardboard…

We ended up not making the brochure, but we:

• published J Guide, an Instagram comic about weed
• published a database of album cover art — now we’re making a website + three retrospective stories
• set up a research team and published four more databases
• made a new studio website and CMS
• made a website for The Writer’s Room, a community of writers
• are wrapping up Hanky Panky, an animated short film
• are editing Feel Good, a book about queer joy
• finished the pilot for E Dey Happen, a web series
• produced two samples for LUDO, a board game

  From my experience with Instagram landing pages (paystackgift, ori.igo), I expect this to be fun.

Yeah, this has been fun. 🙂

And also expensive. We’re up to $60k in costs so far and expecting to get to at least $65k by February.

Up next, some of the things we need to figure out include:

• Go to Market: how do we launch ongoing projects?
• Brand: who are we? where are we going?
• Direction: how do we decide what to work on?
• Editorial: how do we build an audience?
• Operations: can we run the studio through volunteering?
• Finance: how do we manage money?
• Funding: how do we get money to fund future projects?
• Legal: how do we automate government operations? I suspect the way forward is to define all the functions we need, find volunteer directors for each one and share ownership of the company within a defined structure (like Pentagram).

We’ll see. On y va!

About a month ago, I got Samson to help put together a primer on Image Generating AI tools.

I recently went back to read the doc and I understand it a bit more. I can’t wrap my head around diffusion models and pre-generative tranining yet, but I suspect as I continue Andrew Ng’s course, I’ll come to understand them better.

Andrew Ng also writes a blog on AI that I subscribe to. And in a recent email, he said this:

AI is technically complex, and it has its fair share of smart and highly capable people. But, of course, it is easy to forget that to become good at anything, the first step is to suck at it. If you’ve succeeded at sucking at AI – congratulations, you’re on your way!

I once struggled to understand the math behind linear regression. I was mystified when logistic regression performed strangely on my data, and it took me days to find a bug in my implementation of a basic neural network. Today, I still find many research papers challenging to read, and just yesterday I made an obvious mistake while tuning a neural network hyperparameter (that fortunately a fellow engineer caught and fixed).

Very encouraging.

I also rediscovered slanted 37, a magazine on AI I bought at least a year ago. So timely. It feels like I’m learning on three fronts now: the Coursera program is my anchor, the YouTube course is for getting exposed to the math, and slanted introduces me to real world art, design and technology applications.

On y va!

Very early in June, I left Lagos for Nairobi to warm up to my new flat. I knew I was going to be out for a while, so I tried to bid everyone a proper goodbye before I zipped.

Emy and Caroline welcomed me so warmly and introduced me to a dozen people from all over the world. Caroline hosted the most beautiful dinners and I determined to learn how to do same. I went to a handful of parties. Learnt to make a fire. Built my first Lego. Had brunch with Clara. Tried JC’s fried rice recipe.

Jemima introduced me to her family, and I met an older guy who helped build the Murtala Mohammed Airport. It was genuine culture shock all round, and I was so pleased for all the newness. It felt like I’d found what I was looking for, and I knew I’d made the right move.

Three weeks passed quickly, and I continued to Rwanda for the Offsite.

I settled in and went to dinner with Dhruv and Harshada. We bonded over stories of Nigeria, India and Dubai. Tomi, Ezra, Falgu and Emy joined later. We stayed up till midnight eating and talking. Felt really good.

Met up with Amandine, Shola and Bankole the next day to start planning for the week. The creative energy in the room was palpable — what a group of oddball geniuses! I’m grateful to be doing life with them, and I was glad to spend time in person.

Flights started to arrive the next day and I switched into “Offsite mode”. With so many people around, being busy is the only way I know how to be. This time though, I wasn’t as anxious as I usually am. I guess I’m starting to get used to being known.

I was up and about the entire week. I banded with small groups of people to set up welcome kits. Then test kits. Merch. Banners. Stage. Chairs. TV screens. Media. Comms. I cut my fingers a few times — and this is very silly — but it made me feel very dedicated.

I loved that I got to work closely with Bankole. He’s such a special human being. I also had really good conversations, and the week went by pretty quickly. I partied really hard at the closing dinner, then stayed in to watch a Korean series the next day.

Before I left Kigali, I had dinner and drinks with my team. Everyone is so smart and funny. I still feel weird about being a lead sometimes, but I’m growing out of it. Getting shit-faced together definitely helped.

The Offsite was amazing. Paystack is so special.

I continued to London, only to find out there was a problem and I couldn’t check in to my AirBnB. It was frustrating but I was calm. Timi and Maeve were with me so it felt better. I checked into the nearest hotel and changed. We headed to an amazing party and I forgot all my troubles.

I moved into Timi’s house the next day. I was on leave the entire week — to rest, but also because of my birthday. I wanted a “normal” day, so I slept in for most of the morning. Later in the afternoon, I went to see Everything Everywhere All At Once. The cinema was mostly empty so it felt private. In the evening, Timi and Maeve made dinner. I took some calls, got high and crashed on the couch. Perfect birthday. Jeez, I’m 30.

The next week, I spared Timi’s couch and moved into Osi’s guest room. I learnt so much from being in his life for a couple of days. We connect really deeply and intellectually. He feels so familiar and his kids were a delight. Roland taught me to use some 3D software and we bonded over cartoons. Ronny is obviously the queen of the house!

After Osi’s, I moved to the curator’s flat for the rest of my summer.

I visited a Soho House for the first time. I went see a movie by the docks with Mariella, and she also took me to this incredible light and sound exhibition. I bonded with Maeve. Spent time with Nwando, Fatu and gang. Saw Ire, Tosin and Mode. Reconnected with Timi and Jubril. Went a poetry show with Fakus. Showed Saratu the “speakeasy” just before it got shut down. Spent time with Lola and she took me to her pottery class.

It really felt like a London family and I know I’ll be back often.

Summer ends and I head back to Lagos. I’m glad to be back and alone in the house. I hang with Ez, Tomi and Yadi. I tend to the house. I go to Aisosa’s birthday and see my friends from uni. Many of us are leaving the country, and I realize it may be the last time we see in person.

I’m in Lagos for a week before I head out to Seychelles with the family. Mumsi is retiring and we’re pulling out all the stops. My creator. I take the week off for this and it’s super nice to spend time with Nife and Feyi. We see a museum, go hiking, go on a boat trip, talk a lot, eat plenty and take loads and loads of beautiful pictures. I also get mumsi to record an Artifact (a private podcast) about her career. It was beautiful.

Ez and gang were on the other side of town, so I go visit a few times. It was a beautiful week on a magnificent island, but by the end of it, I couldn’t wait to be back home in my bed.

I returned to Lagos and continued to tend to the house. Smell. Furniture. Electrical. I was tired of moving around so I mostly stayed indoors. When I went out, it was very specific.

I went to JM to hang with Tunji. Yadi and I went to a workshop in Ajah to consult for the LUDO board. I saw Williams a few times. I also saw Lade after many years (she once taught me French). I went to Ope and ATM’s wedding and met a bunch of folks. I went to Mumsi’s thanksgiving in church and saw my cousins and aunties for the first time in years.

I went to an EDM party and meet a bunch of cool Lagos people. I went to Bature a few times and made new artist friends. I went to the Ikeja office. Ezra and I went to Abby’s. I visited Ozzy for the first time. Tomi, Tolu and I hosted a dinner for the Seychelles gang. Favour and I partied at Obi’s House one last time before she travelled.

If I couldn’t make any more friends, I’d truly be satisfied. I feel surrounded by people I can shape a lifetime around.

I was genuinely surprised by how much at home I felt in Lagos, but was also very pleased that the city feels comfy again. I moved my flight to Nairobi by a few days because I just wasn’t ready.

It feels like I’m settling into a life that’ll last the next couple of years. My friendships feel so meaningful and intentional, and there’s so much to explore as we grow. I’m also realising that I’ve achieved my long-time goal of having more than one place that feels like home.

If this is what 30 feels like, I wonder why they made it sound so bad.

I think my one of my strongest skills is synthesis - finding meaning from heaps of data and presenting it in a simple way, and I suspect that understanding how these engines work will not only be a useful career skill, but will teach me how to think better.

The course is a 20-video YouTube playlist. I found it on this github repo.

I’m also taking the Supervised Machine Learning program on Coursera. Andrew Ng, who teaches both courses, says the Coursera course (CS229A) is an applied version of the CS229.

Day 1

• Machine learning is how you teach computers to perform tasks without explicitly programming them.
• The most common form is “Supervised Learning” where you give the computer a dataset with inputs and labels (x,y). By observing the inputs and labels, the computer can figure out a mapping to predict y given x.
• On the other hand, in “Unsupervised Learning”, the computer is given a dataset with no labels (x) and asked to find something interesting in the dataset.

• There are different types of problems e.g. regression and classification.
• In a regression problem, the machine is trying to guess a continuous quantity e.g. given a dataset of house sizes to prices, predict the price of a house (given the size).
• In a classification problem, the machine is trying to guess a discrete outcome e.g. given a dataset of tumor sizes and malignancy, predict whether a tumor is malignant or not.

• In the Carnegie Mellon Experiment, a computer is taught to drive by taking screenshots of the the road 10x per second and matching it to a human’s actions on the steering wheel.
• The strategy you choose in ML is very important. This is known as Learning Theory.

We’re in his flat at Keeling House, built in 1954 by the English architect Denys Lasdun. It’s one of those “design buildings”, an experiment in socialist, modernist architecture. The flats are distanced from the service area, and the outward-facing balconies don’t look at one another. The towers are arranged so everyone feels the sun during the day.

The Curator also owns a barge outside of London, and he’s headed over in a few days, after spending some time with his mom. He’s procrastinating the trip because, with the heat wave, “the barge is like a tin foil”. I make a joke about not wanting to get cooked.

I’m renting The Curator’s flat for two weeks, and I’ve been excited since I found it on AirBnB. As if by compulsion, I passed on flat after flat, waiting to find the perfect one, and eventually I did. And as soon as I got Mark’s message saying “I haven’t rented this flat out in a while and I’d like to know who you are”, I knew this was the one.

The Curator (of contemporary art) has travelled much in his job, but not to India or Africa. He hopes to change that in the next decade. Particularly he wants to visit Lagos. I excitedly describe the active explosion of Nigerian culture ignited by music, technology, the internet, and global publishing. He compares it to London in the 60s.

After we catch up, The Curator gives me a tour. The flat is decorated with pops of colour and lots of light. Every object is intentional, and beautiful. There are tons of art, philosophy and gardening books. There are sculptures and paintings carefully placed everywhere. The kitchen is fully stocked and functional. The room feels like a room, the study like a study, the living area like a living area. The flat feels like an exhibition, and The Curator is the artist.

Keeling House, now a luxury property owned by a private developer, was originally designed as social housing. This is one of the reasons why The Curator loves this flat: it reminds him of a time when beautiful things were made for everyone.

I ask him what makes a good curator. He says you need a passion for communication. Okay, but what makes a good curator different from a good copywriter? He says you have to understand space and arrangement. He pauses for a while and then adds that you also need a conviction. I ask about his conviction. He simply says “socialism”.

Before he leaves, The Curator recommends I meet the concierge, Graham. And so I do. Before I leave, I get to know Graham, and I find out he’s a painter. I look up his Instagram, and I find something I really like — a pop-art rendition of a large rooster, one in a series of paintings about the Chinese New Year, birthed in isolation during the lockdown.

You see, there’s also a large rooster in The Curator’s flat. As you enter the staircase, a big black sculpture sits cocky on the window sill. Graham’s painting would be my way of carrying this little slice of heaven back home, so I take it with me, first to Lagos, and then to Nairobi.

I promise to send a picture when I hang up the painting, and two months later, I get to fulfil my promise. I send Graham a photo, and he responds “Omg !! The wall colour makes it pop !! 🙏🏼😉😁”.

Graham’s Year of the Rooster, a memento of The Curator’s flat, now hangs outside my apartment. It reminds me of many things: London, Keeling House, Mark, Graham, Flat 27, Tom (the cock), my friends visiting the house, and me excitedly showing them around.

Most importantly though, it reminds me that a different life is possible.

A different life is possible.

We all know pain. The first one we meet when we arrive, bruised and sore from the journey to existence. We see the world — no, we feel the world — cold, new, scary; and we scream. We scream for help in a language we don’t even understand, a tongue acquired in the silence of the womb. Help me. Help me. (E dey carry me where I no know).

Or so goes our first lesson. And each time we’re back in that place, each time we don’t recognise the world, each time we’re dragged head-first into a painful reality not of our choosing, we remember our first language.

What happens when they die?

Silence. They return whence they came. We continue as we were. Row your boat, life is but a dream. When it ends, the tiny atoms that came together to create this brief fiction simply bid themselves goodbye.

But how do I tell you that?

Why should I tell you that? I don’t know for sure myself — mine is nothing but a cushy explanation to keep my curious mind at bay.

So I listen to you. What you believe. And I believe it too, temporarily. The joy they’re experiencing, the singing and dancing, the freedom from pain, some of which you now carry. Some of which I’m here to feel.

And when this pain is done coursing through your body, what comes next — what it continues to — is grief, the lasting memory of a world that used to be and the loss of the person who dreamed it.

I sit here thinking these thoughts but not saying much. You know these things. I know that you know. I’m simply here to remind you that’s all. That it’s okay. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to let the pain tear through your body. It’s okay to remember. It’s okay to continue.

I wish I could share your grief, but I can’t.

I wish I could take some for myself — and I try — but we both know it doesn’t work that way. Pain is a clingy lover.

All I can do is sit here with you, feeling these feelings, and thinking to myself “when will it be my turn?”

We’re working with about 36 creators on six projects. So far only one is done, but refer to the first paragraph.

The studio started in October 2020 with two interns. Eseosa (who now works as a Product Designer) helped put together a database and some stories for Cover Bank while I worked on J Guide with Tomiwa. I later started Hanky Panky in November.

A lot was happening in those first six months so I couldn’t mentor the interns very well, and by April 2021, I got overwhelmed and disbanded the team. J Guide was published. I slowed down to focus on work but also continued to follow up on Hanky Panky.

By September I’d built some capacity, so I added Feel Good to the roster and the next month, with Saratu’s help, we registered the company as Helterskelter Publishing House. Then we coasted for a few months until February 2022 when I made an operations plan and rehired the team.

Here’s how it’s going.

J Guide

J Guide is up and done. We completed it in 2020 with three stories. We shared by word-of-mouth and tried Instagram ads, and so far the result is 174 followers and a handful of friend testimonies.

Cover Bank

Cover Bank started as “Afromusic”, an attempt to document the history of Nigerian pop music. But we quickly realised how difficult our assignment was, so it shape-shifted into a retrospective for Nigerian album cover images, plus a database for browsing those images.

Our flame was fiery but short-lived. We commissioned a writer (Wale) to write a story but he couldn’t find it. I interviewed Niyi Okeowo, Duks and Funto Coker about their work but didn’t think the essays were good enough to publish. Eventually, it became all about the database.

Recently though, we put word out for ideas and found four writers and a designer, so this one is back in progress.

By November, it should be published.

Hanky Panky

The animation for Hanky Panky is complete :)

We’re now working with a motion graphics designer (Ifunanya) for the credit scenes and with Osarumen to choose and license music. Then it’s over to Kolade for sound production.

Should be done by November too.

Feel Good

My big lesson here is that making a book is a very patient process. We’ve signed agreements, kicked off the project, received drafts for ten stories, and now Timehin and Daniel are editing.

I convinced Osione to help brand the project and print the book. That makes four designers now (+ myself): Osi on brand, Niyi on art direction, and Onyinye on paper. Should be really interesting what comes out of this.

Editorial should be done in September, and then we start on the website and book. We’re looking to complete the website and print a sample run of the book by the end of the year.

Research

We hired a researcher (Emmanuel) until the end of the year. He keeps the Comic Books, Streetwear, Album Covers, African Animation, and Internet Publishers databases up to date.

This month, we’ll start an editorial program to share insights from the databases through the 10/10 newsletter, and regular programming should kick off from next month.

The website is built on Jekyll so I thought having to write essays in code would be a bad experience. On the contrary, it’s fantastic - because it’s nostalgic. I’m getting my words out and writing code at the same time. Very wholesome.

On the flip side, uploading an image is not the easiest experience. I have to manually upload the file to a folder and link to it. I’m enjoying it for now because it’s new, but I wonder how long until I try to find something that helps.

I recently started working on an updated version of the website (7.1). I prioritised adding a blog so I can document updates as I go. Feels like the right place to do it. So far, I’ve improved the site’s typography and layout.

My next focus is the Projects page - I want to add more detail about the process and outcomes of each one. I also want to add a few sorting filters. I’ll write when it’s done.

Eventually, I also want to add more flair to the blog: better typography, SEO, categorisation, RSS, comments, etc. I’m a big fan of Emmanuel’s website and I’m looking forward to trying out some of his architecture.

How a book finds you inevitably colours your experience of it, and this one was seeded in two scenes: first in Daniel’s apartment, him full of praise and anticipation for its release; and then at Nwando’s, where I got to flip through an early copy, the author close-by in another room.

There are simple and good and straightforward and well-behaved people, I’m sure. But this is not a book about them.

Vagabonds! is, first, a collection of love stories: about Johnny and Livinus, Toju and Agbon, Daisy and Divine, Nkem and Hauwa, Wura and Adura, and all the people who can relate.

It’s a book about secret, indecent, illegal love. And in journeying to the upside-down world in which this kind of love can exist, it shares a glimpse into the underbelly of the city, Èkó.

Consequently, Vagabonds! is also a book about Lagos. And no one better to tell this side of the story than the city’s monitoring spirit, Tatafó.

There are a lot of characters in this book, but if you’ve lived long enough in the city, you’ve probably met all of them. A driver. A fashion designer. A bouncer. A housegirl and her madam.

What you don’t know though — and what Eloghosa narrates with the authority of a journalist— are the stories of who and how they love. The women are more colourful than the men, but all the stories are carefully weaved and graciously told.

The book is very allegorical, with tales of cityspirits and their goings-on. This poetry makes it easy for the author to talk about the city’s ills — crime, corruption, domestic violence, bloodshed — while keeping it light.

Vagabonds! is also a time capsule, as Eloghosa’s use of casual pidgin and cultural references like Odunsi (The Engine) and Netflix often feel like a deliberate attempt to capture the zeitgeist.

Now that I’m done reading, whatever flaws I thought I found are easily forgotten. What remains are the memories of those electric characters, particularly Wura Blackson and Rain.

I read two books this summer: Vagabonding, given to me by Caroline, in turn given to her by a former colleague; and Vagabonds!.

Perhaps the only common ground between the similarly titled but very different books is that they were both written for people who wander, who find home in those they meet along on the way.

And in that sense, I can relate.

Directing

In spite of writing this essay about the progression of my role at Paystack, I’ve struggled to accept myself as a director-leader. I’ve been so invested in the self image of being a maker that I’ve made what should be a pretty great career progression sound like a cross. It’s funny, if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

Enter Taru. I was on leave for her first week at the company (she calls it “firm” 😄) because it was my 30th birthday. This week I’m on leave again, but the difference between then and when I resume on Monday is nothing short of miraculous. Roughly a month later, my job has become so much easier.

Like me, Taru was an early employee at a startup — a research consulting firm. She worked there for two decades before deciding to join me to lead the design team as our first manager. After her technical interview we were all so floored, and I knew in that moment that my (work) life would be transformed after she joined.

It sounds crazy now that I ran the team for six years without a partner. Claire was a blip in that timeline, but Taru is like, next level. I’ve been so hesitant to own the “Head of Design” role at Paystack because it felt like a death sentence to my identity as a maker. But (again) it really is time to move on.

With Taru around, it should be much easier to lead. And tbh, there are other ways to be a maker at work. I’m learning that.

Making

The most flattering thing a friend called me recently was “art bro”. First, I’ll take anything other than “tech bro”. But also, I really like art.

I’m more engineer-designer, producer-director than say illustrator-painter, but an artist nonetheless. I was at a pottery shop with a friend the other day who introduced me as an artist. The lady turned to me and asked “what medium”, and I’d never considered that question.

Another interesting conversation: In one of our recent interviews with another engineer-designer turned director-leader, Taru asked something in the lines of “which of your skills would (or have) you let go of to be most effective as a leader”. The idea that it was necessary to shed one identity (including skills) to fully evolve into another was confronting.

In and outside of work, I’ve been trying to define myself. I sparsely write code or use Figma anymore, am I still a developer-designer? In another six months, I’d have produced an animated film and published a book. Does this make me a film director? A publisher? I write lengthy essays on my blog. Does this make me a writer? Does the album cover database make me a curator?

I have a knack for finding the right references when I’m thinking about a problem, and this excerpt from a journal I recently stumbled on captures it succinctly enough:

I love to play and I’ve forgotten how to. To make with no goal, to do without thinking, to try anything and everything because there is interest. I’ve spent so much of my early adult life pondering who I am and what my purpose is that I feel like I’ve been searching for things that I’ve always intuitively had. I love learning new skills, I love gently getting better at things, I love making things that are slightly wrong or make no sense at all, I love feeling little parts of my body activate as I try new exercises. I don’t want to have an identity with the things I do- I am not a painter, or someone that works out, or someone that has an interest in nature, I am just a person like any anyone else who loves to play.

I’m very interested in the zeitgeist. My medium is words and people. I like to make things, but I don’t need to define myself by the things I make.

Writing

Ultimately, the best part of being a director-leader is space. My work life (both Paystack and wuruwuru) over the next few months will mostly involve having ideas, talking to people and writing.

I’ve always wanted to write and share what’s going at work. In 2016, I wrote an essay called “the non-sharing economy”, basically extolling the virtues of sharing transparently. Over the last few years, I haven’t done a lot of that.

For example, here’s a picture of some of us on the team.

Eight people have joined this year. We’re represented in four countries. We have a Systems team now. The work is run by four design leads. So much has changed but not much is publicly documented. Similarly, the wuruwuru journal is much sparser than it should be.

Having space to write more might actually be the best thing about being a director-leader. Right there in plain sight, only took so long to see.

The way most of us worry isn’t exactly productive. And not just money-wise. We worry about worries. We get anxious about being anxious.

The solution Armstrong presents in How to Worry Less About Money is to identify the worry, ask the right questions, and arrive at an insightful answer.

Armstrong suggests that we only need four questions to reduce our worries:

1. “What do I need money for? That is, what is important to me?”
2. “How much money do I need to do that?”
3. “What is the best way for me to get that money?”
4. “What are my economic responsibilities to other people?”

After roughly a year and half, I’m back to living on my salary. If I’m being honest, I’m “kinda back”. It’s a whole process, but I’ve given up thoughtless spending, paid out big commitments and weaned my subscriptions. I’m second-thinking expenses and paying attention to receipts. I’ve deflated my checking account and committed the rest of my payouts to savings.

When I wrote about this in January, someone recommended I use an app called You Need A Budget, and it helped. I didn’t use the app as designed because I don’t actually earn in USD, but it helped me keep a record of my spending. (Recently though, I switched to Copilot, which is more automatic.)

My plan to stop bleeding money is in effect, and now I’m just saving with no short-term goals. Choosing not to action my savings is not for a lack of options (I’ve spoken to a few people for advice), but rather because I’m trying to find a philosophy that feels natural.

What do I need money for?

My life is largely simple and I don’t have dependants or liabilities. I spend regularly on food, app subscriptions, housing and travel. Occasionally I buy clothes, gifts, books and toys. And that’s about it.

Travel and housing make up a vast majority of my expenses. I’m currently renting two apartments and I’ve paid for travel accommodation seven times this year alone. (I occasionally feel wasteful, but the experiences have been worth every dime. One life.)

wuruwuru has also been a sink, but I’ve moved out most of the money we need to run it until the end of “Season 1” next February.

How much money do I need to do that?

Lagos is where I pay the cheapest for accommodation, and thankfully, I have enough rent and credit for the next year and a half, even if the city is not an option for me long-term.

Inadvertently, travel housing is what I need to worry about. Monthly stays are best because I can get a decent apartment for the price of a resident – roughly $2k per month. My monthly subscriptions are currently under $100, and including food and transport, I’ll round up conservatively to $3k.

Basically, if I keep hopping cities or move to Nairobi/Europe, I should expect to spend $3k per month at least. I guess I can work other travel costs e.g. flights around whatever’s left.

What is the best way for me to get that money?

The big idea is to make my salary my only source of spending. I earn in Naira and probably will continue to until I proper move (legal and stuff) so all of this is contingent on the exchange rate.

My Naira expenses are very minimal, so I convert most of my salary to USDT as soon as I can. I‘m hoping to save decently until the end of the year, which is when I hope to continue long distance travel again. Saving makes a lot more sense now that I have enough.

My salary is good enough to cover my expenses and some more. Otherwise, I have no other serious source of income. I get dividends and returns every now and again, but the payments are paltry.

What are my economic responsibilities to other people?

wuruwuru is my biggest financial responsibility at the moment, but there’s a clearly defined end to the experiment.

I send money to my folks and siblings sometimes, but not because I have to (thanks mum). I choose to help with big expenses when I can, there’s the Uber, Spotify and Apple Music family subscriptions, and I’ve spent a significant chunk of my payout on gifts and experiences for loved ones, but these are not obligations.

Largely, I have no economic responsibilities to other people. If something bad happened to someone in the family for example, I suspect this might change. There’s also bit of tension with my dad but I’m constantly trying to evade that dependency. For now, I’m mostly free of black tax.

This Is (By Far) the Best Book About Money I Ever Read

5 timeless lessons from “How to Worry Less About Money” by John Armstrong. (Link to baos.pub)

I was worried about money because I don’t want to be broke again, but from the indications, I think I’m good. I stumbled on a review of “How to Worry Less About Money” and it helped me keep it basic.

My financial safety net is mostly cash and a few investments (including some treasury bonds from when I was younger). It seems unwise, but it’s also just simple and that’s good for me. I’ll figure out what next when the time is right.

We live on a floating rock bound by gravity, the invisible force of attraction that keeps everything grounded or within predictable orbit. This must explain our longing for attachment and consistency.

There are a lot of people who feel unsafe no matter how much money or prestige or love they have. They aren’t securely attached to the world, to themselves, to other people.

We all want to feel connected to something_._ Close friends and family add weight that keeps one grounded. A good partner feels safe and predictable. A satisfying career creates orbit. Much like the Earth and revolving planets are bound, connection is a communal affair.

In celestial mechanics, escape velocity is the minimum speed needed for a free, non-propelled object to escape from the gravitational influence of a primary body, thus reaching an infinite distance from it.

A person is a celestial body with mass, radius, and a unique gravitational constant. I imagine that essays, books, music, films and other such portals into alternate realities create a form of potential energy that pushes us towards escape velocity. I imagine travel as a release of this energy. It creates distance between bodies, but this distance forces us to build the gravitational influence necessary to stay within orbit.

What’s contributed to my sense of safety?

• Feeling loved by someone who appreciates me as I am and is accepting instead of reflexively critical.
• Having close friends whom I see regularly and share large parts (social, emotional, intellectual, work) of my life with
• Psychedelics
• Financial/logistical security

What’s contributed to my sense of safety?

• Making things and looking forward to finishing them
• Commitment to my job and my team; success as a reward
• Having so many people I can be fearlessly open and honest around
• Feeling genuinely loved by friends and family in spite of me
• Complete trust in my ability to do anything I set my mind to
• Financial security with a social safety net

  As I’ve shifted to being more secure, I’ve noticed exactly what Josh describes: this background sense of “things will be okay” that I never had growing up.

Becoming more present and involved with community was a conscious effort to build the gravity necessary to weather migration, to stay connected regardless of distance, to re-affirm my identity before deconstructing it once again. I’m glad I made this decision. It has done so much good for my sense of place and belonging.

I feel more securely attached now, I told a friend two weeks ago.

To whom? she asked.

Uh, to the world.

Same, Ava. Same.

wuruwuru means crooked.

The project started out as an attempt to make a magazine, but then veered into an Instagram comic, an animated short film, and now a handful of experimental visual stories.

The big idea is to create a support system for independent creators to be able to experiment like this. We want to help artists and directors produce personal projects with high cultural value.

The plan is:

• Produce some projects
• Create a platform
• Build a paying audience
• Support other creators

  Production

wuruwuru is a team of creators and we’re making what we want to see in the world. More importantly though, making will help us build the network and know-how to be able to help other creators.

Our first collection of projects includes an Instagram comic, some databases, an animated short, a web series, a board game, and a book.

With each project, the goal is to create a new type of story, build a community of makers, and create useful documentation.

We’re looking to publish all six projects by February 2023.

Platform

Next, we can use our content to kickstart a publishing platform e.g. a physical magazine or an online publication.

With this platform, niche storytelling, high quality visual content and social media, we can try to build a global audience.

Funding

The studio is currently self-funded, but the long-term model for sustainability is to crowdfund operations.

We believe it can work because the stars are aligned. Thanks to music, Nigeria has the attention of the world. Thanks to technology, it’s never been easier to move money internationally. And social media distribution keeps getting better for independent publishers.

Hopefully, we can get 100 True Fans from our audience to commit some money to indie creators every year.

Support

If this all works, we can then support creators by designing and funding programs in established institutions. Partners will provide space and operations, which will keep our overhead low.

Once again, my plan to escape Nigeria has been foiled. I appealed the Tech Nation decision but the Home Office wasn’t convinced.

The candidate is clearly well regarded by his colleagues and has been present at Paystack throughout their journey from the start-up to acquisition. However, he has not provided sufficient evidence to demonstrate how he fulfils the mandatory criteria. He must show extraordinary ability by sustained international recognition or demonstrate a level of expertise which places him at the forefront of his field in the sector. While he has substantial remuneration and recognition that he is part of the Paystack management, he has not detailed his work, the products he has individually developed and their specific impact. More information is required to show this.

I get it. But also, na wa!

I didn’t enjoy getting rejected, but I really liked doing this myself i.e. putting my story together with a few friends. I also don’t feel too bad about it. I wasn’t too confident in my evidence, but I thought the essays, references and work history would make up for it. I guess not.

The thing about applying for stuff is that even if you learn not to take it personal, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to knock someone for wasting your time and money, especially when it’s on a technicality like “we believe you but we need more detail”.

It’s funny though. I once casually argued with Justin that I could get into a FAANG without an interview and now see. 😭

But anyway, things are playing out better than my aspirations yet again.

I found a sanctuary in Nairobi, and between there and Lagos, I have enough time and space to flesh out what next. People say it’s a transition city, but who knows, it may be something more.

And now I can put a face to the angst. Space, order, stimulating environment, access to nature, multicultural experiences, a community of makers, living alone: that’s why I wanted to leave. Slowly it also became about getting a new passport, but it didn’t start out that way.

Anyway, my passport stays green. I could re-apply to the UK, but it was never my best option, and now I have good reason to reconsider. Even if I did choose to try again, it’s a good idea to give it some space.

I hope to float between both cities for another year until I establish base and figure out a sustainable plan for travel.

But you know what they say; man proposes…

A kernel of all meditation traditions is the idea that, whenever you find yourself hijacked by thought and distracted by story during meditation, you can “begin again.” It is what saves a practice. It is also, when applied to the practice of living, what can save a life.

Commence again.

Any day.

One of the most crucial elements of Hanky Panky is the soundtrack. If we get it right, we get the audience to experience Lagos in a very genuine way. Original music (the score) is in turn an important part of the soundtrack as it goes a long way in defining the film’s identity.

We started working on the score late in January. I got Osarumen to help and he signed up Remy to produce. They started off with two variants: Ambient and Dark, which set the tone for the feeling we wanted to evoke.

After a few initial iterations, we took a step back in April to outline the conversation and agree on the structure and timing for the music. The outcome was a sound design document.

The concept for the score is to “follow” the conversation i.e. describe the mood in the car as the dialogue progresses. At first the group is happy, and even the first couple of seconds into the call, they’re still happy. But slowly, Aunty Yuwa sucks the joy out of the room with her questioning.

Our goal was to narrate that experience with the score.

In May, we signed up a film producer Tosin to start the score again from scratch using the sound design document we created and the existing explorations from Osarumen and Remy as a guide.

His first draft was a bit too cheerful but the second set the tone for what we have now. The third iteration started out too emotional but was corrected into a toned-down version. Eventually, we arrived at what we have now.

In the end it took about six iterations by three producers to get to the final score for Hanky Panky.

The next step is to mix the score into the 5.1 Surround Sound format.

When the animation colouring and compositing is completed, we’ll also move on to sound post-production including background sounds, foley, and other types of music combined into the final mix.

How am I doing? Well, it depends on when you ask. The answer alternates between fantastic and frustrated depending on the time of day.

For the sake of a happy ending, I’ll take the bad first: I’m exhausted.

I went into the year guns blazing trying to be a better friend, son/sibling, team lead etc. My goal was to build structure and community, and while I’ve made progress at these things, I also seem to have lost the plot a little bit.

I’m building an amazing team at Paystack but a part of me really misses the tunnel vision of making things. I want wuruwuru to be a support system for creators but I constantly debate my commitment because it’s so hard to get anything done. Getting closer to friends and family has meant carrying things for people that I’ve largely been avoiding. And sometimes I look back at how I spend my time and I can barely find myself in any of it.

And it’s not that I don’t enjoy or get anything from it. I’m happy to be better connected to family and friends. I’m glad the studio exists. I’m grateful for the people I work with. I’m becoming a better leader and my teams are clearly getting stronger. But at the same time, it can sometimes feel like I’m on autopilot, only compelled by a sense of duty.

I disconnect and refresh as soon as I feel like this, but time again, I return to this exhaustion. Everything feels so long, and I often find myself wishing for when things were so much simpler.

In my internal world, it feels like I’ve been floating. In between not feeling physically settled and becoming more “responsible” generally, I sometimes feel neglected by myself.

I recognise that this feeling, while true, is also not exactly complete.

I’ve been reading and writing more. I’ve been on maybe six trips this year. Mes cours des français se passent bien. I’ve made a ton of new friends. I’m learning a shit ton. I’ve reconnected with old friends. I recently moved into what is more-or-less a sanctuary. I feel good about my body. My hair is healthy, and I even made it to the dentist after like three years.

So I have been catering to myself, but when I get some quiet time, it doesn’t always feel like it — and I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong.

At dinner the other day, JC talked about learning to protect his energy with the magical words “no” and it stuck with me. C also gave the beautiful analogy of a sine wave: sometimes you have a lot to give, and it’s okay to give more than you get, but you need to know when you’re at the bottom of the curve and when it’s time to put yourself first again.

I think I’ve spent the past few months indulging the part of me that thinks he can help everybody and do everything he sets his mind to. I’ve filled up all of my time with to-dos, and now they’re haunting me.

There’s a difference between making space for myself and resting when I’m tired, and I think I’ve been doing more of the latter. The things I do for myself can sometimes feel like a distraction from my exhaustion. My quiet time is riddled with work anxiety. I struggle to enjoy my alone time because, in the back of my mind, I know it’s only temporary.

It doesn’t help that I’m terrible at estimating my own capacity, that I thrive on distraction, or that I’ve created the fiction that I’m someone who finishes whatever he starts. You bring all these things together, and it’s easy to see why I end up being overwhelmed: I do way too much.

The first step to any kind of conflict resolution is to have a conversation, and I think that’s what this essay is.

I don’t expect to be magically less overwhelmed (this clarity of mind is thanks to the long weekend and a new space 😅) but now that I’m aware of where I am, I can work my way towards feeling better.

I need to tell myself “no” more often and suppress the feeling of not doing enough that compels me to do more. I was wise enough at the start of the year to create structures and hire people to help with work, but I need to be careful not to overload those structures. I need to focus on doing the most important things at any given time.

I need to be more intentional about me-time, versus taking the time I get. I need to do more of the things that refill me — conversation, learning, sex, writing, adventure, cooking, etc —and more consistently.

Generally, I’m doing okay. I guess I’m just at the bottom of my sine wave.

It can be a slow climb up, but I’m on it.

How’s wuruwuru doing? Slow and steady.

The team works! I feel like everyone gets it now — clear communication, kindness, integrity, transparency, quality etc. We’ve gotten pretty close-knit since March and we have a better relationship with the artists as well.

Ongoing projects are in flow again and we’re back to sharing regular updates on Basecamp. We’re making a new website that better explains what the studio’s up to. We contracted a researcher to clean up our databases and documentation. We even started writing and now have a small backlog of essays to share.

We’ve also built a lot of capacity and can do other things asides from flagship projects. We completed a landing page for Swaptime (a community for exchanging services), helped Smiles Autos (an auto shop) set up a no-code operations dashboard, and we’re currently rounding up a website/forum for The Writers Room. Everyone is also taking one course or the other to improve specific skills.

The last three months have been productive and everything seems to be moving forward again, but I still think we’re slow 😅, and for a few reasons.

First, I don’t spend enough time with the studio. Secondly, we’re fully remote and having only worked together a few months, we still need a lot of practice. Finally, we work with independent artists who control their own schedules and don’t always have the best work ethic.

Given the conditions, we’re doing okay. We’re not stressed out and we spend more time learning than doing, which is important at this stage. There’s also so much life stuff happening across the team that it helps to have some space to breathe.

And we’ll keep getting better anyway.

T minus 8: I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in space. You can peek into the ISS or watch the Earth from their perspective on YouTube, but I know it can’t compare to being there. VR will bring it even closer, but even then…

T minus 7: For me, the biggest allure of space is the novelty of everything. It’s a demonstration of the sheer power of collective will and how far we can take curiosity and technology.

T minus 6: Back on Earth, zoomed into Lagos, I’m wondering about novelty, travel and isolation.

T minus 5: In the last two years, I’ve spent most of my money on rent, travel and accommodation. When I run the numbers and start to feel a little wasteful, I wonder why I’m always trying to escape.

T minus 4: I travel because I like to experience and learn from new people, cultures, conversations, etc. independently. Novelty is really really stimulating for me, but also equally important is isolation.

T minus 3: So far I’ve lived in various apartments with my family, other students and friends. When I travel is usually the only time I really get to be by myself in a space larger than my room.

T minus 2: I’m eager to live alone, control my own space, and experience a multicultural life, so I’m spending a lot to figure it out. I know this is not a panacea for my discontent, but it’s where I want to be.

T minus 1: The people on the ISS must have such a beautiful experience of the world, but the cost of that life is being away from everyone they love. Thinking about life on the ISS makes me wonder where my need for novelty and isolation stops and where familiarity and intimacy start.

Liftoff: Would I join a space expedition? Probably not. I couldn’t completely remove myself from my life. But, I’d like to go to space someday at least. I think it’ll be amazing. 🚀

It feels like “everyone” stopped blogging and I wonder why.

My first theory is that the Internet has become more unsafe. It’s harder to be vulnerable online because it can be used against you on social media. A lot of people journal but don’t publish because of this.

But also, writing is hard. It takes a lot of skill, time and effort, and it can easily feel like you’re not doing it right. It took a few weeks and multiple iterations to get this essay from a random thought into paragraphs.

This work used to be more rewarding but then social media happened. Apps like Twitter, Instagram and TikTok are more exciting to be on, easier to produce stories for and designed for engagement. They’re simply more gratifying than long-form writing.

There’s also just no time. Blogging culture was cultivated by a generation of students and young adults who are now fully in the workforce. Nobody has the time to write and edit personal essays especially considering the difficulty slash vulnerability required.

Regardless, the case for blogging is that it’s a more intimate approach to public conversations, great for sharing well-considered ideas, and makes for better documentation (short of a YouTube channel).

Folks are getting married, moving to new countries, raising kids, losing parents, gaining friends, starting therapy, building companies, getting surgery, switching jobs etc. It’ll be nice to read about some of this.

I know people (like Chidinma, Saratu, Anthony, Osundolire, Cheta, Mo and Ginikachi) who still blog fairly regularly, but generally not a lot of people do.

Hopefully, this changes.

Bring back your blog.

xoxo

I was ready to move earlier in the year but it would have been stressful without a work visa so I decided to run that first, and so far Tech Nation is doing a fantastic job of kicking my ass.

The application has been more difficult than I imagined, the biggest problem being that I don’t have a public persona: I don’t do talks, I don’t do events, and I don’t have press mentions.

It makes sense that external validation is a marker of excellence, but I don’t believe it should be the only measure, so I’ve made my case. Now I’m waiting to hear back. Fingers crossed.

This experience has really been a mixed bag. One on hand, it has helped me put myself and roughly the last ten years into perspective. On the other hand, it has been a painful reminder that, in certain contexts, a public persona can supersede real work. (Not that you can’t do both.)

I’ve always been comfortable with obscurity and this hasn’t changed that, but I’ve resolved to make sure my team is more visible. It’s a good way to focus all this clap back energy.

Meanwhile, I’ve been spending a lot more time with friends and family. I’ve had quite a few really important conversations and dealt with some early-on issues that I completely buried.

It’s like I’ve been preparing to move by rooting myself into the communities I want to be a part of when I’m away. Quite exactly what I planned to do this year, but I couldn’t have imagined how it’d play out. I feel more connected to my past and more authentic as a result.

I tried to write about some of this stuff earlier but man, I’m just not comfortable putting myself out like before. I’ve considered a private blog where I can curate the audience, but I haven’t really had the time for that.

I’ve been writing half-thoughts in a private journal, which has been pretty nice, but then recently I found a random blog that inspired me to publish by reminding me to care less about my narrative.

As humans, we like to weave our life experiences together in concise narratives that articulate who we are. We carry these narratives with us, and in theory they not only convey our identities to others, but help us find meaning in our own lives.

To be “against” narrative identity is to recognize that we’re unreliable narrators. Unreliable both because we’re too close to ourselves to get a clear picture, and because we could never accurately reduce who we are to a single story.

The essay is definitely worth a read because what I took away is a little left field from the point.

For me, the idea of an unreliable sense of self was freeing because it became an inquisition: “am I holding back because I care too much about what I think people perceive me as?” Not all the time of course, but if the answer is yes, fuck it, write your shit and move on.

So here we are.

This year has been quite the evolution. I feel very different — more down-to-earth, more patient, more daring, less angsty, less patronising, less conflict-avoidant etc. I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone in many ways and it is amazing to live this life.

Most recently, I’ve started French classes online (it’s so fascinating, but I don’t think I ever met a Chinese or Scottish person until this) and the 2-hour classes with complete aliens have quickly become the highlight of my week.

Apart from the joy of learning and being around people who make me feel young, being a student is so satisfying because it’s a persona I haven’t assumed in a while. In class, I’m not an employee, not a manager, not a maker, not a friend, not family. I’m just me, doing something for myself that I’ve always wanted to. C’est fantastique!

I’ve also gotten better at swimming by practising. I still very much will drown if you throw me into the deep end, but my breaststroke has never been better. I suspect I’ll get much better with proper classes, but one at a time.

Anyway…

📚 Books

A Little Life is my book of so-far-this-year. It was so long and painful that it takes a certain amount of masochism to get through. But I did because it was so beautifully written. I started in January and slowly, slowly followed Jude’s story until he died in April.

I’ve also read:

• The Death of Vivek Oji — ❤️
• Dark Matter & Trojan Horses: A Strategic Design Vocabulary— 💭
• The Architecture of Demas Nwoko — 🤯
• Apartamento #28 —❤️
• Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less — 👍🏾
• Scrum: The Art of Doing Twice the Work in Half the Time — ✍🏽

  📺 TV

I signed up for Mubi at the beginning of the year to get niche film recommendations and so far I’ve seen 6/127.

• Incident By a Bank — 😅
• Results — ❤️
• Bad Lucky Goat — 😅
• Shiva Baby — 😅
• Bye Bye Africa — ❤️
• Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris — 😲 I also saw a handful of shows/films on Netflix/Apple/HBO/Hulu that I can’t remember except for Central Park and WeCrashed.

🍿Cinema

I’ve been to the cinema twice this year. I saw the new Spiderman in January and then Parallel Mothers later.

Also went to the opera twice — Romeo & Juliet first, then Hamilton after, which was amazing!

📧 Subscriptions

I subscribe to 50+ odd newsletters and a random assortment of personal blogs on Medium and Substack but the ones I’ve enjoyed/learnt from the most so far this year are:

• Napkin Math — the business of technology
• Stears Business — Nigeria in numbers
• Animation Obsessive — in-depth commentary with surprisingly a lot of knowledge about Russian animation
• Colossal — funky art
• A24 — very inspiring for wuruwuru
• Dense Discovery — ethical design and climate change awareness
• Big Tech This Week — I helped edit #27 :D
• Culture Study— completely left-field
• It’s Nice That — cool design essays and interviews
• Collaborative Fund — thoughtful essays on life and work
• Aeon Magazine — philosophy and big ideas
• Typewolf Tuesday — interesting, well-designed ideas
• The — Brand Identity — visual inspiration
• Why is this interesting?— general education
• Afrobeats Intelligence — light into the fog of the music industry
• New_Public — on digital public spaces
• Things dey happen — on life, friends and family
• Osundolire Oladapo Ifelanwa — on life, culture, parenthood
• Cheta Nwanze — on Nigeria
• Anthony Azekwoh — on life, friends and family
• Kachi Eloka —on life and mental models

  That’s it

I’m currently juggling Orbiting the Giant Hairball, Monocle 150, Kinfolk 41 and Things Fall Apart Illustrated.

✨

In the 60s and 70s, thousands of young people in California migrated from cities into remote desert areas looking to create new kinds of communities founded on very different values from conventional society e.g. new ideas of sex and love, experimental religious models, a desire to be close to nature, a rejection of capitalist life, etc.

Many of these “hippie communes” have now been abandoned, victims of the very things they sought to reinvent — internal relations, financing and government — but a few of them still exist today (e.g. the Salmon Creek Farm), inevitably transformed from their founding ideals.

Regardless of the fate of these social experiments, they remain valuable as countercultural models of life. I couldn’t put it any better than Cal Winslow: “The most interesting and most revolutionary aspect of this all, it seems to me, was not so much the drugs, the sex, and the rock and roll, or any particulars of life on the commune (though all important in their own right), but the whole notion of creating another world — of turning the world upside down, of creating a world outside slavish devotion to the market and the shopping mall, free from economic and culturally imposed patterns of personal oppression and economic exploitation.”

Ever since I picked up an Apartamento (my favourite magazine and where I learnt about SCF), I’ve been obsessed with the interior and exterior spaces of artists and designers. I’ve sought out essays, videos and anything else I can read or watch about how some of the most intentional people in the world choose to live.

It’s easy to understand this obsession. First, my dad was an architect, and the sanctity of his drafting board is a fond memory. I love the idea of constructing houses, and I even think of my product design work as an applied, minimalist form of architecture.

Secondly, living spaces — whether personal or shared — are such a great expression of self-love. The amount of care and effort you put into making a space yours is reflected right back each time you walk back in.

Besides architecture and interior spaces though, I’m fascinated by artist communities. Whether in New York or the deserts of California, I admire people who intentionally surround themselves with other people who share their values and want to work on similar things. The quality of culture produced as a result is just amazing.

As a young Nigerian living in Lagos (like many other densely populated cities), public space is a luxury. So when I read about someone like Fritz Haeg, who lived in a dome in L.A. for a decade before purchasing an old commune, reviving it into a nature-loving community of writers, designers and artists, I can’t help but wish to experience something like that.

Lagos is suited (intentionally or not) for nuclear groups cosied together in self-imposed isolation, stacked into “estates” separated from one another by meaningless gates, completely disconnected from the natural environment and society at large. The saving grace, of course, has been the internet, but even that has changed significantly. Blogs, forums and other public community spaces have mostly been replaced by private messaging groups. Social media has taken over public conversation and gotten too crowded for comfort. There’s a lot of room to improve these virtual spaces and create more time to be with others, but it requires a lot of effort.

What I want now — inspired by places like Salmon Creek Farm — is to experience a ready-made living community, maybe not as extreme as a desert commune, but at least made up of artists working together, inspiring one another and cultivating their natural environment.

After my sabbatical last year, I had to find my place in Stefan’s new Engineering organisation. I figured I could either be an independent contributor leader (quality, systems) or an organisational leader (people, scale). I chose the former, updated my role to Design Director, and started looking for someone else to lead the team.

One year later — after a temporary stint with a Head of Design, unsuccessful attempts to replace her, picking up the work and learning about the different functions in the company, leadership training and management coaching, getting closer to Engineering Managers and realising they’re happy to help — I decided to take up management.

I was really stubborn about being an IC because I was yearning for those days back in SF and Ikeja cooped up just making stuff. But the company is not the same anymore. The problem is clearly much larger than whatever it is we were doing back then and requires a more complex organisation. Shola realised this a long time ago and now I can see what he’s built.

I figure the only way for me to get back to just making stuff is to hire and build a team that can run without me. The work doesn’t end, so what’s important is to build an organisation that can prioritise, align, organise, scale and execute quickly and to a very high standard. As I’ve grown into leadership, things like this have become more obvious.

I feel a little guilty for not prioritising management all these years. Not that I think I was a bad leader — I tried to set a good example, but I realise that this personal decision not to take management seriously or hire for it early enough has affected the growth of people on my team. But, c’est la vie.

I may shit on it a lot, but management is not that bad, especially when the mission is to build a high-performing global team that actively participates in and contributes to the design community in Africa. Don’t quote me outside, but I may even be enjoying it.

With the acquisition behind us, the company is in a different race. It took me some time to catch up, but I’m learning to pace myself for the marathon.

1. Studio

wuruwuru exists because I think it’s important to have a space (albeit virtual) for independent makers like myself to play, learn, get feedback, exchange ideas and create high-quality collective art and documentation without the pressure of making money.

And now I went and signed up four other people: T as a designer and community manager, N as writer and editor, E as writer and storyboard artist and W as a product manager.

2. Money

We’re currently working on two flagship projects: Hanky Panky, a 3-minute animation and Feel Good, a book of short stories. We’re making them with about thirty-something collaborators remotely using Google, Basecamp, Notion, Zoom and WhatsApp.

Hanky Panky will cost about $20k to produce, while Feel Good has a budget of $15k. Salaries and subscriptions come to about $2500 per month. Assuming one year is enough to publish both projects (and we do nothing else), we’d have spent $65,000 by March 2023.

I’m going to try to make (some of) this money back through crowdfunding because the time feels right: Nigeria has global attention thanks to music and tech, independent publishing tools are better and more accessible, international payments is much less of a hassle, and crypto has created wealth for a local community of people who appreciate art.

My theory is that with good design, excellent marketing, valuable rewards and an overall delightful customer experience, we can get strangers on the internet to fund production. This model also reflects the essence of the studio as a community project (see also Sporting Lagos).

Another reason this needs to work is that I don’t have the energy for venture capital or debt financing. My backup plan is to invest in something that makes enough profit to run the studio, and my last resort is to hire a professional to help raise money from cultural institutions.

If all of this doesn’t work, then that’s it.

3. Scrum

With this experiment in sustainability, wuruwuru is by definition a startup — not a VC-funded technology company, but a startup nonetheless.

These days, I’m learning to manage and scale the Paystack Design team (which itself is now kind of a startup within a company), so I’m applying my lessons wholesale to the studio. I enjoy the contrast between both teams and find them symbiotic. I export the knowledge from my job — values, systems, goal setting, deliverables planning, scrum, design process, documentation, performance management etc — to the studio, which in turn makes me better on the job because I get to test these systems on a smaller, less organised scale and find room for improvement.

As PM, W will be scrum master for the studio. Our first sprint (Cherry 🍒) started last week and will end in March. The goal is housekeeping — documenting systems and processes, signing contractor agreements, setting up financial accounts and prototyping a new website, and our routine is a 1 hour Tuesday morning kickoff, 15 minute stand-ups on Wednesday and Thursday, and async project updates on Friday.

The objective for this first sprint is to establish scrum on the team.

4. Work in Progress

I’ve read only one so far, but N says we now have five Feel Good stories and they’re all different yet interesting. Whoop! There’s a lot of editing in progress, and there’s no deadline for that, so we’ll just have to wait and see how many stories are done by month-end.

As for Hanky Panky, Joshua sent in concept images and they look great. The colour choices for the characters turned out nicely and he nailed the dream scene. Now that he’s done, he’s back to clean-ups and tie-downs.

I recently put up the latest prototype of the film on Vimeo. Nothing has changed visually, but this one includes a Nollywood-style soundtrack that makes Aunty Yuwa’s dialogue a little unsettling. The second is more laidback and (unintendedly) sounds like Osas’ heartbeat. Both have their pros and cons, but ultimately we agreed that it was best to start from scratch and agree on function before form.

What I’m looking forward to the most this sprint though, is the website prototype. The new website is more content-heavy and tells a more compelling story of what the studio looks like now.

Can’t wait to share.

• WhatsApp groups: I switched to WhatsApp for async because it’s simpler for most people. It’s also more direct compared to Basecamp which we now only use for documentation and announcements.
• 4-day week: Monday is typically a busy day because we all have day jobs, which is a great excuse to start work on Tuesday, which we now do.
• Weekly broadcasts: We send out updates in Basecamp every week — at the beginning to set the pace, and at the end to recap.
• Async calls: I called when I thought it was necessary. And it all worked very well.

January

• The J Guide: We’re on the third round of edits for The J Guide E3. The first round was to improve the storytelling, the second to tighten the panelling and this one is for typography and other details. The images look really great and I can’t wait for us to publish. Seeing as this is the last story for a while, I’m glad we’re taking the time.
• Hanky Panky: After many months, we’re done with the animation rough! Joshua has started tie-down and in-betweens. He’ll also be redrawing the backgrounds. LMBSKN and Remy Baggins started on the score and the sketch is amazing! Reminded me all over again how important sound is in a film, and I can’t wait to share the next version.
• Feel Good: We signed 8/12 contracts and received 2/12 stories. Instagram and Twitter are up. Niyi Okeowo joined to help with art direction and we completed the core visual identity. I also made a prototype of the website. We had a cool chat with Wale Lawal, founder and editor-in-chief of The Republic about their editorial process and there were a lot of impressive moments on this call e.g. finding out that he reads every single essay published on the site!

February

• More agile: Now that working rhythms are clear, I need to introduce regular planning, retros and 1:1s to help us be as productive as possible.
• Publishing rhythm: Moving forward, the goal is to publish something every month. So all things being equal, we’ll publish a new version of Hanky Panky and a Feel Good story by the end of February.
• Operations person: We need to sort employee contracts, do a balance sheet, hire a web designer, etc. and I suspect I need to hire one more person for this work, bringing the core team to four (Assistant Editor, Assistant Producer, Research Assistant, and now a Manager).
• Animated series: Funmbi gave me the idea to make Hanky Panky into a series about the different lives that converge in Lagos traffic, so I’ll try to flesh that out this month. The tentative name is “Go Slow”.
• Cover Back: After The J Guide E3 is published, we’ll get back to Cover Bank. The goal for February is to bring the database up to date and, if there’s time, add a thousand more images. We’ll see. 🤞🏾

First, money has been great for my self-esteem.

In many ways, “success” has legitimised my experience of the world. For a long time, I sometimes struggled around people I perceived as wealthier and would shrink at the thought of e.g. sitting at a table having to explain to everyone where Fagba is. But now, I’m proud to say.

I’ve become very comfortable telling my stories because now I realise they make me special. Working with people from all over the world has surely helped, and growing up too, but I think the idea of having money has done the most for my self-esteem.

Two, having money has helped me discover new interests.

The plan for my first payout was to spend it anyhow — not recklessly, but instinctively. I got anxious trying to figure out responsible spending so I decided, fuck it, I’ll do what comes to mind and learn from it. I spent a chunk on family, friends, travel, housing and side projects, a fraction on angel investing and I also tried money-doubling with crypto.

As expected, I did learn a lot. I thoroughly enjoyed spending on family, friends, travel and I want to do more of that. I didn’t really commit to angel investing in the way that I did wuruwuru. And crypto investing was fun until it was not. My thinking was “if I’m so savvy, I should be able to make some money on the internet too”. Welp.

In the end, I didn’t really enjoy playing the money games. I enjoyed learning about the economics and technology of crypto, I enjoyed side projects and the sense of community, but investing was such a bore. But to be fair, I wasn’t exactly thinking long-term. I guess my luck is not compatible with greed.

The other big change has been my sense of ambition.

Some of it is driven by a feeling of indebtedness. Now that I can breathe, I realise how lucky I’ve been, and all I want to do is pay it forward. If I could, I’d gather everyone: family and friends, peers like me who have shaped their craft in a society that can’t really afford to value it; I’d gather everyone, and do a massive giveaway. But obviously, the money won’t go around.

Most of it though is probably because physical wealth has translated into mental wealth for me, and I was raised to give.

And so the list of things I need money for keeps piling: community projects, family support, migration, travel, etc, and if I’m not careful, I’ll run out of cash again for sure. Putting altruism aside, the worst thing about having money is the fear of not having it.

So, my third big theme for 2022 is to get better at money. Much better than last year, at least. Last year, I got paid early Feb and by late April, I was down to 33%. I completely lost track of my expenses and my salary just became one more pipe into the pool. There’s plenty of room for improvement.

I’ve started speaking to friends, trying out The Apps™️, reading books and being more intentional about budgeting and saving. By June, I want to be settled, living on my salary again and planning big expenses ahead. From there, I can try again to invest again, this time with a long-term mindset.

Step one though is to stop bleeding cash.

Dear Lagbaja,

This letter will set forth our agreement with Lagbaja (Author) and Feel Good Publishing House (Publisher) regarding a literary piece (the “Story”) contribution to the Publisher’s anthology of stories about queer joy provisionally titled “A Feel Good Book” (the “Work”).

We agree to pay you $500 upfront and 2% of Work sales in accordance with the terms of this agreement as described below:

• By submitting the Story to the Publisher, you represent and warrant that you are the sole owner of the Story and have the full power to grant us the rights to the Story. The Story is original and accurate and has not been published elsewhere in any form. You also represent that its publication will not defame anyone or violate their rights of privacy or publicity or copyright, or otherwise violate the law or rights of any third party.
• We have the right, in consultation with the Author, to reproduce, edit, revise, abridge, condense and title the Story and make judgments on editing and the visual treatment of the Story. Wherever Author approval is required under this Agreement, approval will be deemed given if the material to be approved is sent to the Author and the Author does not send a written note to the Publisher within 14 days indicating the Author’s disapproval.
• We are purchasing and you are granting to us: a. the non-exclusive worldwide English-language rights to publish the Story and the worldwide rights to republish or cause the Story to be republished in any edition of the Work b. the right to use the Story as part of any electronic and/or computer database containing Publisher’s works c. the right to transmit the Work electronically and to reproduce it and distribute it in any medium, known or as yet unknown, which is capable of storing printed information in electronic form.
• Any difference, controversy or dispute arising out of or connected with this Agreement or the breach thereof which cannot be mutually resolved by amicable discussions between the parties shall be referred to the Lagos Court of Arbitration (LCA) for mediation to be conducted in accordance with the LCA Mediation Guidelines. This is our entire agreement and may not be modified except by another written document signed by both of us.
• You are submitting this Story in contribution to the Work, scheduled to start production in 2022. Nothing in this agreement imposes any obligation on the Publisher to publish, promote or sell the Work. If the Work is not published by December 31 2023, all rights granted herein will revert to the Author, without prejudice to monies paid. All rights not explicitly granted herein, including copyright, remain the property of the Author.
• You will not allow anyone else to publish your Story for a period of 365 days after the Work is published. Thereafter, you are free to grant others the right to publish the Story but you will use your best efforts to ensure that the Publisher is credited as the original publisher of the Story. This applies as well to any syndication that you arrange on your own. Any such use of the Story by you will not require any payment to us.
• An advance payment of $500.00 will be made once we approve the Story. You can either receive this payment via wire transfer to a US bank account or via USDC or USDT to a crypto wallet.
• Two percent (2%) of Publisher’s Net Receipts will be paid to the Author yearly on the 31st of December. This is the net amount received from print and electronic Work sales minus trade discounts and costs associated with the creation of the Work.
• One copy of each print edition of the Work will be sent directly to the Author. Please sign both copies of this Agreement and return to Feel Good Publishing House. We will sign them and return a fully executed copy to you.

We create value. We believe in the work of our hands. We use local resources to serve local communities. We imagine experiences and design possibilities. We work together. We celebrate what we have and create what we don’t have. We are proud of our products. We are proud of our people. We are proud of our nation. THIS IS US™

I’ve been talking to more artist-friends *— Aisha and Serine, Oroma and Osione, Nwando and Fatu, Funmbi— about wuruwuru, and whew, artists get it. Not only do they get it, but they’ve been living and doing it for years. Through them, I’m discovering a higher purpose for wuruwuru.

wuruwuru is for me today what Paystack was for Shola six years ago. What Shola did right (and still does amazingly) is that he saw the vision, found the people, brought us together, and gave us the tools to succeed. I’m going to do the same for wuruwuru but with a twist— we’ll operate as a startup but organise as a collective. I know how to do this now because I’ve spent the last year redesigning my team at Paystack for scale.

I first met Funmbi at the S16* short film festival last December, but we didn’t talk until last week. I wanted her to help complete production for Hanky Panky, but what I got was more than I hoped for. She understood the film instantly. She asked questions I hadn’t considered. She saw what it could be, more clearly than even me. She made a mission out of my experimental side project.

The excerpt at the beginning is from This is Us, a design and manufacturing company run by Oroma and Osione. I’ve been spending more time with them recently, and the amount of synergy we have is crazy. The foundations of our practice, our art and design sensibilities, the stories we want to tell are remarkably aligned. I don’t think it could have been scripted any better.

Just like Funmbi, they don’t just see what I’m doing, they see what I should be doing. For many years, people like this have been saying the same thing I realise I’m trying to say now: This is us. This is the best of us.

wuruwuru is an independent artist collective, and our mission is to build communities of practice, bear witness to the culture, tell new stories and promote new ideas.

Our projects are serendipitous — they all started from a random conversation with someone — but tie directly to these goals:

• The J Guide is about exploring new publishing formats and building an illustration/comics community.
• Cover Bank is about documenting the culture of album cover art and building a graphic design community.
• Hanky Panky is about documenting the process of independent animation in Nigeria and building a film community.
• Feel Good is about telling new stories and building a writing/publishing community. If you ask anyone at Paystack what the best thing is about working here, the answer you’re likely to get is “the people”. This answer is why the company cannot “fail” — because it doesn’t matter what happens to the business, we’ve made a community for life.

wuruwuru is about championing the best of Nigerian culture. It’s about people — finding them, bringing them together and providing the space and tools for them to make great art.

Links

• Oroma and Osione: This is Us, SLIDE
• Fumbi: Fatherland
• Nwando: Nalè, Visuals by Nalè
• Fatu: Big Tech This Week
• S16: Surreal16Collective

Before Off-White, there was WilliWear. Founded by Willi Smith in the 70s, this brand pioneered what we know as “streetwear” today. By 1986, Willi was one of the most high-profile Black fashion designers in the US. He worked across art, architecture, film, performance, and was also a marketing genius, making more than $25 million a year. But what drove him wasn’t commercial success; it was community.

I have imaginary personas stuck in my head from stories I’ve read, so I’m always yearning for fictional experiences. I always feel like there’s more to life. I always want to be in new places with new cultures and new people. I always want to expand my experience of the world, and escape usually seems to be the only way forward. But last year taught me differently.

Last year, I was more grounded than ever. I met a lot of people around me. I spent more time with friends. I got closer to my mum and siblings. I talked to more people more often at work. I got to know a few dozen writers, artists and designers through my projects. I made new friends in Lagos, Abidjan and London. I met a lot of excellent Africans and it was all very meaningful.

So this year, I’m being more intentional about family, friends and peers. I want to be more involved with my support system. I should be. I want to pay more attention to the people I value. I want to celebrate them as often as I can. I want to consistently reach out when someone comes to mind. I want to be in more stimulating conversations. I want to visit and host more. I want to connect people and ideas. I want to help build communities of practice.

The Cooper Hewitt museum compiled an online archive* of personal recollections from Willi Smith’s friends, family and collaborators to celebrate his life and work, and from the stories, you can tell he was an amazing guy. One says “When I think of Willi, I think of him more as a person than as a designer. The world has seen his genius and his accomplishments, but what has stayed with me are his qualities as a person.” Another goes “When you meet a person like Willi, you receive something and you give out something.”

Willi Smith embodied so much of what I value and aspire to. He was easy-going and kind. He was emotionally present for people he loved. He respected creativity and valued collaboration. He was generous and easy to work with. He was commercially successful but not driven by it. He put people first, and it shone through his work. I want to be like Willi when I grow up, and I’m growing up very quickly.

Bye Bye Africa is a 1999 film about Haroun, a Chadian film director living in France. At the beginning of the film, he receives the dreaded call from home: his mum has died. The story that follows chronicles his struggle with identity, country, family, love and cinema on his trip back to say goodbye.

Before Haroun leaves for Chad, his friends visit to pay condolences, and at the end, grief-stricken, he gives a speech to the room. “Dix ans, dix ans”, he laments. In ten years, he hasn’t seen his mum, and now she’s gone. The hardest thing for him to accept is this: “when you choose to live away from your parents and your friends, you must accept not to see them when they die”.

I’m moving to London. In fact, I’m here now, telling anyone who cares to ask that I have moved. My mum is amused by this, but the way I see it, I just need to do the paperwork. If I was born into a different country, or if this was a different world, it would be easier to just settle in. Telling myself I’ve moved forces me to stop procrastinating and allows me the fiction of starting afresh with the new year.

I watched Bye Bye Africa on my first night here and mused over how different migration is for me because of the internet. Leaving home is not as final as it was for Haroun. I still rent an apartment in Lagos and can afford to return at will. Everyone I know is inside my phone and I can be as plugged in as I want to. Nothing changes about work, except my productivity. I’m leaving to find a better life, but I don’t have to give up my old one for it.

Haroun’s film really made me think about the consequences of migration for my identity and connections back home. As for my identity, I’ll always be Nigerian. No matter how far I travel, it’s too late to be anything else. And my work is on the continent, so I’ll always be connected in that sense. But distance is distance, and something always gives. I’m choosing to live away from my parents and friends, and — Haroun’s right — I must accept not to see them when they die.

But at least I can call.

I chose these ideas out of curiosity: how do I make something like this? who do I need? what exists? And as a result, I’m now working with a few dozen people including writers, editors, designers, directors, animators, voice actors, music producers, lawyers and advisors. I’ve discovered so many amazing people and I’ve learnt a lot about scriptwriting, sound production, animation, business registration, contracts, Instagram and more.

Clearly, there’s more to this than just making things. Across all my interests, what I want is to tell new stories, encourage high standards, build community, promote new ideas, bear witness to the culture, explore alternative funding models and support independent publishing. But it’s going to take a lot of time and effort to get there.

For now, I’m focused on completing ongoing projects.

• Feel Good: I’ve hired two people, N and Eris, to help edit and produce. This brings the team to seven people including myself, Daniel, Ire, Onyinye and Hannatu. We’ll start publishing stories online in February and crowdfund a graphic novel later in the year.
• Hanky Panky: The animation is still ongoing and the goal is to finish in April. We have a review of the new roughs scheduled for early January for and I’ve reached out to a production company to help with operations and publishing so our chances are higher.
• Cover Bank: Tomiwa will now be working full-time on this and other research projects. Multiple entries in the database are incomplete and need review. We also need to think about data integrity, accessibility, persistence, distribution and other related topics.

Vanny is currently drawing the third (and final) story for The J Guide. After this, I’m pausing the project. I really enjoyed learning about weed, writing scripts, directing illustrators, putting the stories together and experimenting with ads, but I want to focus on more universal topics.

As for the magazine, I still need to find my voice. My interests are too wide and it’s not yet clear what I’m trying to say or who I’m trying to say it to. I’ve tried making stories myself but couldn’t get past my quality filter. I’ve considered starting something simple to help discover my audience, like a newsletter or a blog, but I’m not ready to commit to a periodical.

I also need to start thinking about money. It’s a privilege to be able to experiment like this but I’m careful not to be too wasteful. I need income or donations to sustain it long term. Feel Good is my first experiment with funding and I’m excited for it. We got an executive producer for $15k and we also plan to crowdfund book production later in the year.

Generally, I’m positive about the new year because I think I have a good plan. I have a clearer idea of what I’m trying to do, I’m down to a few projects and more focused, I have more experienced collaborators and my community and quality of advice has grown significantly.

What can go wrong? 🙂

I’ve been working on Dotch and Feel Good for months now, Hanky Panky for a year and Sharades for even longer. I’ve spent three months making on a one-pager for a friend and it’s still not done. Even the work I finished, Cover Bank and The J Guide, took too long and ended in a compromise. I’m struggling to be helpful at NOMAD. There’s a backlog of ideas I haven’t done anything about, and sometimes it feels pointless to have new ones.

It’s all a little too much.

The only way I can possibly work on so many things is if I have a partner to set goals, coordinate people and take responsibility for each project. But I can’t afford to just hire people. I can bootstrap my projects for a while but I have to make money to sustain them ultimately.

So I’m slowing down and taking it one at a time. I’ll hire or find an ops partner for my projects, starting with Wuruwuru. Last week, I put out an ad on Twitter for an editor and the responses have been encouraging.

My focus in Q1 is to hand off operations to them. This should be fun.

🤞🏾

Yesterday, for some reason, I remembered the almond tree in the school compound, peeking out from the right of the picture above.

Sometimes, I’d run out of money (out of recklessness) and not be able to afford lunch. I don’t remember if the school had food arrangements, but very likely I was too proud to eat school food at school. Boarders had a reputation to keep and I was high in the pecking order.

There was a water tank under the tree, so during class just before the break, I’d ask for permission to go wash my face or something. But my real plan was to go and eat the ripe almonds that had fallen from the tree.

When I was sure no one was watching, I’d pick up the almonds with “style”, eat them very quickly while running the tap, wash my face when it was all done, and then go back to class. I didn’t do this too often, but I won’t be surprised if someone saw me. Thankfully, they didn’t spill and my reputation stayed intact.

I don’t know why I remembered this, but it makes me smile just to imagine myself on one of these almond missions. I guess the moral lesson here is that problem get levels. Now I want an almond.

Most of the time, I’m just chill. I’m thinking about work. Or planning something. Neither here nor there. And very often in fact I’m happy. When I figure something out. When I write. When I’m listening to music. When I learn something new. When I’m around people.

Thing is, happy feelings fade quickly, but not sadness. When there’s a new problem at work, when someone I care about is unhappy, when I scroll through a piling dish of angry words and baseless arguments, when I read the news, when I browse the fantastic lives of friends and strangers, sometimes I feel sad. And then I dwell in it. I lay in the muddle and writhe.

But it’s not that I’m a sad person, I just feel sadness the most. And feeling sad seems to make me want to feel more sad.

But I can control it. I can play high tempo music. I can go for a walk. I can talk to someone. I can close the fucking app and find something else to do. It’s okay to feel sad, but I have to remember not to feed the monster.

One time it was a soiree with the devil and his daughter in my mom’s room. Another time, it was an angel disguised as a beggar. I still remember the one where robbers intercepted road users and tied them to their car trunks naked, or the one where I learnt to fly away from kidnappers.

For many of these fantastic episodes, or at least the ones I remember, I was ill. And the best explanation I found (after 10 minutes of Page 1 articles) is something called fever dreams: when your body temperature is high, the brain goes a little berserk during REM sleep.

These days, the wacky director in my head doesn’t have to work too hard for fever productions.

I find myself in my childhood church, bored to death and scheming to escape aunties and uncles. I find myself in boarding house, struggling with dirty toilets, tattered mattresses, looking for stolen items. I find myself avoiding a brawl with a stranger who seems to only understand violence. I find myself in a house, some house, my house, with acquaintances from my past, taking over my space and using my stuff without permission.

I’ve had variations of these dreams over the years, and in each one I’m trying so hard to get the fuck out.

When I wake up, I’m exhausted and a little traumatised, but ultimately relieved to be back in control.

It’s interesting, anxiety.

I’d just learnt how to write HTML & CSS and was eager to put my graphic design work on the internet. I called myself “an interface designer with a flair for advertising” because at the time I was interning with Kwirkly, a small ad agency run by a band of misfits. The website had these odd icons from stock photo sites and it was a good reflection of me at the time.

A year later I started designing web apps. I’d learnt how to animate with CSS and started leaning into UI design without realising it. There was Afrobios for a client and Booshparrot with friends at school. I also designed a music app called GetSong because I thought NotJustOk could be better (and I was right).

It’s really interesting to look back at this now, because although I had no clue what I was doing then, it all makes sense now.

Influenced by my advertising stint with Kwirkly, I also got better at copywriting. I called myself an “interface designer”. Full stop.

My next website was in 2017 and this one was hella famous among my friends. This was definitely a high point in my life. I’d just finished uni and I was working at Delivery Science, Helloworld and Devcenter.

I’d picked up frontend development so I could now build my own apps. I was doing a lot of work and fast, and the smirk on the front page is plenty proof of my self confidence.

If I remember correctly, that picture was taken at the CC Hub. I don’t recall what it was for, but I liked it so much. It had a yellow background, and I ended up designing the entire website around that.

My next website was typographically mature, for lack of a better term. I got confident enough to remove all graphic elements but text, and it ended up being very prose-heavy, coloured-background. I kept a few images of projects, but looking back, they weren’t even necessary.

I was early into Paystack at the time and my portfolio of work had grown. I was making a lot of stuff and this was a different level of confidence. At this point, I knew very well what I knew how to do.

For all intents and purposes, it was also hurriedly done. Work at Paystack was overwhelming, and I was never really able to make time for my website. And not just that; my interests had also ballooned and something else was always more important.

But as usual, I did my best given the time I could make.

After three years of Mr. Color, I wanted a new website. I knew I wanted it to be an archive, a “curation of my content”. I also wanted it to be completely unique. I had more interests beyond code now, and I wanted to show that.

My 2018 website ended up being a one-day project that started from a newspaper drawing I made. This was special because I can’t draw very well.

I made a random decision to create every single element on the page myself, and stuck to it. It paid off, and I ended up with a quirky site that looked (and still looks) completely odd.

I added little delights to the site to establish some personality, like a title block inspired by architectural drawings and a link to a Spotify playlist. I’d realised my website didn’t have to be a portfolio through and through and I could do whatever I wanted, so I did.

More importantly, I started using Jekyll and basically, my content was now being served from a structured data model.

In 2019, I started working on the sixth version of my website.

This time I started with data so I could make progress in the little free time I had, without actually having to design or write code. It was just pure documentation, and I enjoyed doing that very much.

Eventually, I moved into design. I wanted the website to look simple but be highly interactive. I drafted multiple variants with different layouts and objects that were supposed to move and react to the user.

But, I never had enough time to actually build the interactive stuff. My ideas were more complex and CSS and Javascript had gotten more difficult for me. The days of the one-day website were officially over.

Each time I returned to the project, I’d start in another direction. I worked like this for months until eventually, I got tired and decided to ship a basic version of the website. Documentation was complete a long time before anyway.

I figured I could update it over time, little by little. But I never did. And the website stayed the same until the end.

Today, I completed a new version of my website.

Once again, after months and months of trying out variants and ideas, I’ve given up and shipped a basic version of a much more interesting idea.

The philosophy behind the website is way more interesting than how it looks.

The blue gradient is light from a source somewhere beyond the surface. It’s supposed to move, by time of day, by mouse movement. But it doesn’t.

It’s also supposed to be swappable with other “worlds” or “surfaces”, Javascript modules with unique interactions and sense of space. But for now, it’s just a blue gradient.

The grid is supposed to be a template. I have all these ideas about digital gardens and archiving and creating a structure for personal websites that other people can use. But so far, it’s just a few lines of CSS.

The homepage is supposed to be a “life module”. It should include interactive content e.g. short stories that people can cycle through, or rotating vinyls that connect to my Spotify account. But all there is for now is a single picture of a painting I own, with a caption that says nothing but the name.

I can go on about all the ideas I’ve had for this site, and it’s nice to talk about what it’s supposed to be. But for now it is what it is, a simple website.

Most importantly, I’ve done the difficult job of articulating myself, reflecting on my life / work and updating my documentation. If I die tomorrow, I die happy because my Github is up to date.

And that’s enough for now. Abeeeeeg.

Happy new website, Opemipo!

Asides Paystack, I work on three other things.

I make publishing experiments as Wuruwuru, software experiments with Timi as Helloworld, and I recently joined Ebube to make cinema experiences as NOMAD.

These are side projects and we don’t have employees yet, but we try to treat and run them as proper companies nonetheless.

Rhythm

The guiding principle of my “productivity practice” is to establish a working rhythm for every project.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that good things take time to make, so the most important thing is intentional planning and consistent progress.

I juggle multiple things by:

• Collaborating with people who can self-direct
• Setting up communication structures to create a working rhythm

  Time control

I work on Paystack during regular office hours and other projects at night, weekends or during breaks.

Because Paystack can be so mind consuming, I have to be extremely structured: team alignment on Monday, check-ins on Tuesdays, focused work on Wednesdays, company alignment on Thursdays and planning on Fridays.

I’m usually a little out of kilter, but for the most part I keep to this structure.

This way, the unsurprising surprises that come up each week don’t throw me off, I always have time for side projects, I get enough rest and I manage to throw some life into the mix as well.

Regular planning

Work at Paystack is planned quarterly, and I recently started planning my side projects the same way too.

After I figure out how much work I have to do at Paystack, I decide how much I can possibly achieve on my side projects, considering the help I have.

Every Sunday, I plan for the week. I think through what I need to do across all the projects and throw them into my todo app, Things.

During the week, I check the list occasionally to see how well I’m doing.

Strong collaborators

I try not to work on anything alone. Apart from having someone to actually carry the work, collaborators help me stay accountable.

My rate of work on anything depends on the quality of help I have. The best thing for any project is to have a strong collaborator who feels just as responsible for it. The more experience they have, the better the ideas, process and execution.

But of course this is not always the case.

On some projects, I work with people I have to carry. This takes more time, and the outcome is usually not as great, but I learn a lot designing systems to keep them accountable and articulating my feedback on their work.

Communication structures

The heartbeat of my working rhythm is communication. Every project has some form of asynchronous communication structure.

Simply put, I try to find creative ways to nudge people to share and discuss consistently, and this is maybe the hardest part. For reasons ranging from bad behaviour to shyness, people find it really difficult to share.

I generally prefer written communication because time syncing is just insanely difficult and I can articulate better with text. I use WhatsApp and Notion for NOMAD and Basecamp for Wuruwuru and Helloworld.

I prefer Basecamp because it has in-built communication structures e.g. automated check-ins, messages etc, but Notion works well too.

I avoid calls like the plague, but I find them very useful for alignment, updates and bonding. Most of my calls happen on a weekly/monthly schedule.

I rarely ever meet in-person, but it’s useful for bonding too. Relationship building is important to the success of any team, and calls and IRLs do this more efficiently than text.

Sometimes, I find really special people who prefer to write too (e.g. Bolu for The J Guide). With people like this, I can build a relationship and work quickly without seeing them at all.

Best!

Different workspaces

Apart from structuring my days and weeks, I also structure my workspace. I use different browsers (Safari for Paystack and Chrome for side projects) so that I don’t stumble on one type of work while doing the other. This is important because I get distracted very easily.

Another semi-crazy thing I do is move around the house or change my working position when I switch between projects. I do this even within projects e.g. I wrote my last essay about Hanky Panky at the table, but moved to the bed to finish this one.

That’s it I think. If I remember anything else, I’ll update this.

(cc Temi Giwa)

✨

Last time I wrote about the film was two months ago. The project had stalled and I was trying to rationalise a solution.

Since then, not much has changed.

Chuks was working with two younger animators, and they were really fucking up. One was just plain unreliable, the other had to stop working because he was overwhelmed. Excuses, excuses.

So, we decided the solution was to bring on a second freelance animator.

I was open to this because I understand. I’ve realised it’s outright impossible to create amazing work alone with people who’re learning. You have to pick a side, education or collaboration.

Another reason why this was appealing - despite having to pay more - is that I wasn’t confident in the “style” of the interns, especially in the difficult parts like the dream sequence. Truthfully, I’d accepted the animation was going to be a “great story but a bit meh stylistically”.

Chuks sent me a list of options, and the best of them was Joshua.

Joshua is a freelance animator and character artist who’s very passionate about community. (See his drawing challenges on Instagram)

I was immediately drawn to him because he draws women, and Hanky Panky is a story about two. Also, seeing him rally around other animators on Instagram made me super confident in his taste and work ethic.

I kinda wish we’d started this project with Joshua, but c’est la vie.

The production team now includes:

• Yanmo (story)
• Daniel (direction)
• Jessica (script)
• Oshuwa (voice acting)
• Chuks (animation)
• Joshua (animation)
• Kolade (sound)
• Osarumen (sound)
• Saratu (legal) So far, I’ve spent NGN 3.7m + $2600.

We expect to finish the film in 6 months.

Hanky Panky, April 2022.

Amen.

I excel most when I help people build out their ideas. I have a lot of them myself, but they usually end up as experiments.

My strongest skills are absorbing knowledge, organising it and finding clarity. Throw me into something that interests me (what doesn’t) and I can figure out how to get started pretty quickly.

It’s easier to do when I’m not also figuring out the mission, people, partnerships, operations e.t.c. And it’s not that I can’t do those things or that I hate them. I just don’t excel as much or as fast.

I guess I’m a topical kind of mind, and anyway, this is the only way to do many things without breaking.

Across Paystack, Wuruwuru and Helloworld, I’m currently working on 20+ projects. Some are small, others big. Most are delegated, and I only actively work on a few. I spend most of my time thinking, planning and writing.

I take things slow and only hope to make some progress every week. My time is better structured so I can reflect continuously and don’t go too off-track. I’m better at prioritisation and know when to ramp up on something.

Projects with strong partners progress well, but when I have to carry things, they take a really long time. I’ve made a mental note to pay closer attention to work ethic when I pick partners and collaborators in future.

A few years ago, I read in a magazine about a Japanese designer who claimed to work on 400+ projects at a time with a dozen people at his studio Nendo. I couldn’t wrap my head around it at the time, but now I get it. If I work with more people like me, we can do so much together.

My goal is definitely not to match Oki Sato’s count of ongoing projects, but I want to be able to make as many things as I want to see in the world.

And the way forward is to apply myself to other people’s visions.

“Everywhere.”

Onome opens the door and leads Adele into the room. She points to a red chaise against the wall and beckons Adele to sit.

The chair is striking, with attractive curves, expensive material, perfect stitching, a large throw and a comfy looking blanket.

The red chaise feels too much, and Adele wants to protest. There’s an understated lounge chair in the centre of room that’s more to her taste, but her body is screaming for help and this one is right there.

Before she sits, Adele throws a questioning glance at Onome who responds with a reassuring smile.

When she sits, the chair is softer than she imagined. The material caresses her skin and it feels like an embrace. Adele sighs in relief.

“Feel free to take your shoes off.”

“Thank god! I was going to wait until you left.”

“Haha. Feel comfortable. This is my studio.”

“So cool… your house is 🤯.”

“I know. My mum is very intentional.

“The studio used to be hers, actually. She used to paint on weekends to relax. Then a few birthdays ago, she passed it down.”

“Aww, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, best gift ever.”

Adele tucks her shoes under the chair.

“Feel better?” Onome asks.

“Much! Just needed to sit.” Adele swirls her feet around, “I really need to let these shoes go.”

Onome chuckles. “You can put your legs on the chair if you want.”

“Whew, thank you!” Adele squeals.

“You’re welcome.”

Onome heads back to the party.

“Hey,” Adele calls out, “where can I get water please?”

“I’ll send someone. Anything else?”

“No, just that.”

Onome stops at the door, “Adele, right?”

“Yup. Nice to meet you Onome, and congrats!”

“Thanks! Nice to meet you too, Adele.”

Onome closes the door gently, and as the light and noise from the party dim, Adele takes a look around the room.

It has screed walls and two large windows on one side. Most of the floor space is filled with paintings, all arranged and stacked neatly. The opposite wall is a shelf full of objects and books, and in front of it, a table and chair. There’s a box under the table with the name “Faith” scribbled on it. Onome’s mum? Her sister? Someone else? Adele gives up on the thought.

Her legs still hurt, but thankfully water’s on the way. She takes a deep breath, stretches her body out and lifts her legs on to the chair. She picks up her phone, texts the group chat where to pick her up.

She folds into a foetal position, covers herself with the blanket, snuggles into the red chaise and unlocks her phone again.

Up next, TikTok.

At first we enjoyed it, but we later came to detest it. I don’t remember how annoying those clients were, but past me wrote about it.

When we met, Timi and I had both worked with ignorant, sneaky and outright condescending bosses who make you do a lot of work for very little money, who had no appreciation for what we were trying to do or be.

So, with our studio, we wanted to be different. We didn’t hire any staff. Instead, we worked with our peers and made sure to pay them fairly. We called it a collective.

But after a while, we got disillusioned. It was stressful and unrewarding to make basic websites for annoying people. So we started working on our own fun experiments.

We made:

• Cruncher, an app for browsing bank statements
• Eat.Drink.Bot, a recommendation engine for Lagos restaurants
• Timeline Expert, a trivia game for guessing who posted random tweets
• Twinder, a matchmaking Twitter bot
• Tix, an MVP for a self-ticketing platform Eventually, we moved on to different things: me to Paystack, Timi to Buycoins and so on.

In the past five years, we’ve both learnt how to build teams, and now we can keep our jobs and still make all the stupid, fun ideas we come up with.

Helloworld is back, and we already have a backlog of ideas:

• Area, a decentralised virtual house
• Dotch, an app for splitting bills
• A new version of the Eat.Drink.Bot! I revived this publication so we can share progress as we go. There’s absolutely no pressure. Might take a few months, might take a year to get these ideas working. But we’ll build them. Trust.

To all our friends (Onyekachi, ‘Lolu, Segun Famisa, Efe Money e.t.c.) who built with us in the hey days, consider this a PSA.

Timi and Ope are back.

Long live Helloworld!

In return, I’m helping her with website stuff. Sometimes I hate money, so this barter gives me a lot of joy.

She’s trying to get Wuruwuru registered again, and of course CAC responded with “WTF” (third time now).

So, she’s drafted them a letter to appeal. I didn’t even know you could do that but heh, I’m excited to see what they respond with.

And if this doesn’t work, she has a backup plan. Fingers crossed.

Dear Sir,

I act as Solicitor to Mr. Opemipo Aikomo, the Proprietor of the above stated business name application. On the […] I received the Registrar’s query notice in respect of the said application, wherein the choice of the word “wuruwuru” was questioned. This letter seeks to expound on the meaning of the word “wuruwuru” and its significance to the Proprietor’s venture, and humbly request that the application be kindly accepted for registration.

The word **“wuruwuru”:**

With Hausa and Yoruba language origins and vernacular use, the word “wuru-wuru” or “wuruwuru” simply means not straightforward, indirect or complicated. The connotation of the word “wuruwuru”, in our society, is typically understood to be an unusual, atypical and nonconforming way of achieving a desired objective. In this sense, one might say: “I completed the questions by wuruwuru to the answer” or “the shortcut to her house is a wuruwuru road”.

In the context of this application, the Proprietor makes reference to wuruwuru as an unusual way of compiling ideas and publishing stories.

Wuruwuru Publishing House

The objective of the Proprietor’s venture is to make multimedia stories about design and popular culture in Nigeria with the goal to eventually publish and sell these stories as a high quality digital/printed magazine.

The idea is to take an interesting question or topic and explore it with a visual essay, game, music album, animation, documentary, dataset or whatever best tells the story. The stories will be made with other independent makers and enthusiastic creatives. The magazine will include internet education, how-we-made-it essays, interviews with collaborators and fun graphic design.

Compared to traditional modes of developing and publishing magazines, this style of publishing is quite atypical but progressive, hence the name wuruwuru.

Conclusion

In conclusion, it is our submission that there is a genuine and honest motive behind the use of the word wuruwuru in the context of this application. We therefore humbly request that the application be kindly accepted for registration.

We look forward to your kind and favorable response.

№ 1 was Hanky Panky the film, still ongoing.

№ 2 was Cover Bank, a visual database now with 5k images.

№ 3 was J Guide. We made two stories and started on a third.

№ 4 was Cover Stories, which I’ve now dropped. It’s a little more complicated because it involves logistics and other people. I couldn’t make the time to properly get it done and couldn’t find someone to delegate to either.

№ 5, Feel Good, is a physical book, an anthology of stories about happy queer people. The emerging Wuruwuru themes (indie creation, graphic design, animation, comics, storytelling) are very present.

Daniel will co-ordinate writers, one for each story. I’ll coordinate illustrators to visualise the stories. I’ve asked Dá Design to design the book with me. I plan to speak with a handful of magazine makers (Irin, Republic e.t.c.) to learn about production.

Daniel and I will publish and distribute the book together. We’re looking to crowdfund this one on Kickstarter and document our experience.

As usual, I have no idea what I’m doing. But we’ll find out soon enough.

I paid $50 to Medium just so they can bring back my “Write” button. For the longest time, it was “Resume membership”.

I’m sure there are other ways for me to start a new essay e.g. story.new, but this was familiar. I also didn’t enjoy being constantly prodded to resume my membership. It got really annoying.

I’ve convinced myself it’s because I like Medium, Ev, and appreciate the work that goes into making a good publishing tool, but I still feel swindled.

Anyway, congrats Medium. Yay one more subscriber.

My first task was to work with Stefan (my manager) to close out a hire. We’d been talking to Claire, a designer from SA, to join as Design Systems Lead so we picked up the conversation, agreed on terms and she joined!

With Claire, we’d brought on someone with a richer perspective of what it means to run a design team. Very quickly, it became obvious what the team was lacking in systems, collaboration and experience.

Realising this gap, Stefan pitched Claire the Head of Design role. The idea was for her to focus on systems, people and delivery while I oversee ideas and execution. My role didn’t change — I’ve always been Design Director, but now it was to be more than just a fancy title for team lead.

Stefan gave me a template to think through things. Amandine recommended I approach it as a new job. I read articles and books, did multiple exercises and talked to a lot of people. I spent many days thinking and writing. Eventually, I arrived full-circle at the conclusion that being a director suits me.

A company is not a family business, and being an early employee doesn’t qualify me for any position I want. So it’s worth asking: why should I be Design Director?

I spent the first five years at Paystack as a generalist. I’ve worked as a graphic designer, web designer, product designer, frontend developer, product and engineering manager. Anything I can do, I’ve tried.

I’m very curious and have a sharp synthesising mind. I read widely, so I’m full of ideas. I write well, understand concepts fairly easily and can explain things beautifully. I tell good stories and prototype very quickly, so I can sell my ideas when I need to.

Some of these skills are stronger than others, and some have declined for lack of practice, but I understand them well enough to know what quality looks like. As far as making things that work on the internet, I have incredible taste.

I’m generally easy going, communicate well and have a good amount of empathy, so I work well with others. Paired with my obsession with details and understanding of the business, it makes sense to direct.

Before now, my mental model as team lead was that we shared the work. Just like everybody else, I was hired to make things. I expected each person to own their part and if it wasn’t satisfactory, then I’d step in to finish up.

I’ve always imagined myself a craftsman, hammering away in the darkness of my forge, making the best version of whatever I was working on. I’ve even called myself an internet carpenter, but those days are coming to an end, at least at Paystack.

The company has grown significantly, and I have to as well. It’s a bit weird, but building things is no longer the most valuable thing I can do.

I need to make sure every designer has a well-articulated picture of the problems we’re tasked to solve, participate in discovery and synthesis to encourage the very best ideas, oversee our systems and processes to make sure our work is cohesive and pore over the final outcome to see it delivered just as excellently as we’ve imagined.

My place is to help other people excel. It’s clear now.

For personal reasons, Claire had to leave the company, but she was a light, and in those months of working together, I found a lot of clarity.

During my stint as Engineering Manager, I had a 1:1 with someone who told me something in the lines of “I think you can be more”. At the time, it was flattery, but I’ve gone back to that conversation a lot recently.

Working alongside people with deeper industry experience, being exposed to design at scale and starting all over again has been quite the ride. But mostly, it’s really good to be learning and growing again.

I hope I continue to find room to be more.

First, the early excitement. The idea is fresh, ginger is high, there’s plenty money and little distraction, so things move fast.

Up next, the dip. Tough problems and boredom slow you down. Money runs out, ginger dies and other things just become more important. Gradually, the project comes to a crawl.

Eventually, it gets so bad that an intervention has to happen, and this ushers the project into the final phase where things go at a decent pace until the end.

This is happening with the film as well. We dipped for the last couple of months, but I’ve held interventions and I hope we’re out. I think it’s about incentives. If a project will last more than a month or so, sheer force of will is not enough to get there.

70–30 payment seems suited for short term projects, very disciplined people and mature teams with accountability structures e.g. performance management. But otherwise, money runs out and motivation follows. Or at least, other things have to be prioritised and excitement drops.

For long term projects, I think it’s best to do a retainer — monthly payments tied to specific goals. Money is a great incentive for accountability. Sometimes it’s the drive, other times it’s the reward. Either way it’s an effortless way to keep energy going.

What we’ve completed so far:

• Story with Yanmo (Dec)
• Signed up Daniel as Director (Jan)
• Character design with Chuks and team (Jan)
• Script with Jessica (Feb)
• Recording with Oshuwa (Feb)
• Concept audio from Kolade and team (Mar)
• Storyboard (Mar)
• Environment Design (Mar)
• Animatics (July)

• Dialogue (July) And what’s left:

• Logo and motion graphics
• Licensing Felony by Ckay
• Score with Osarumen
• Drawing (roughs, tie-downs, inking then colouring)
• Animation (composition, lighting, editing and sound)
• Final sound production I think we can be done with the animation in November. Final sound production will probably extend into January. Fingers crossed.

The most defining trait of adulthood is fear — fear of the present and future, of actions and consequences, of expectations and disappointments, of discomfort and change, of success and failure, of people and power, of strange phenomenon and most importantly, the fear of all this randomness.

“But” is maybe the most counter-intuitive word to use when you’re trying to end an argument. Everything you said before just goes poof!

I’ve learnt to swallow my buts and let things slide to save time, but — won’t lie — it can be really disappointing not to get closure.

Nothing substitutes experience. To create more work in less time and also increase production value, teams need systems and processes. The most efficient way to get this done is to hire people who know exactly what to do because they’ve done it before.

At a certain size, it’s counter-productive to try to get everyone to agree with everything. It slows down and distracts. Everyone, at whatever level, should be trusted to make decisions that favour the group.

How we found ourselves on the highway is its own story, but let’s just say it involved a party, good looking women who gave the wrong address and not-the-sharpest taxi driver.

After getting satisfactorily lost and eventually learning the correct location, we headed back to the highway to get another cab to the party. And that’s how we met Donald.

The odds that we’d be picked up by a Calabar-raised, Accra-grown, English-speaking Uber driver on the highway at 11pm were really slim, but we weren’t prepared for how much luck we’d end up having on this trip.

Donald dropped us off at the party and didn’t take payment. He only asked for us to take his number and call him again. I saved it as “Donald Saviour”.

We made seven more trips with Donald, and on each one, he’d entertain us with music and conversation. He’d drive slowly, often take the longer route and even work nights just so he could pick us from the club. I don’t know where he lived, but I don’t assume it was close by. And it wasn’t for money, because he always charged less than expected.

The day before we left, we went to lunch with him. It was at the restaurant where he first worked when he moved to Abidjan. We had Attiéké and 3-week old chicken (he made a big deal about how the chicken bones were too soft). He found us so boujee and joked about me undressing my food. 🙄

Obviously Donald liked our company, but it didn’t really hit home until the final trip. En route the airport, driving slowly, taking the longer way as usual, he mentioned that he didn’t have many friends. Actually, what he said was that he had no friends, but I hope he was being dramatic.

Donald reminded me (again) that feeling at home and having friends who speak your language—literally and metaphorically—is a gift.

If you’d like to, send an email to Donald.

The last few years have been a blur, so even if I tried to bring you up to speed I couldn’t. Maybe it’s better I just start and see how far I can remember. You know how my memory is.

So, guess what…

There’s a global pandemic! Yup, everywhere. Imagine your country in a pandemic lmao. It’s called the coronavirus. Got transmitted from wild animals in China, spread to Italy where thousands of people died and then boom, everywhere.

Surprisingly, we’re handling it better than you’d expect. Or at least we’re luckier than most. First, there was a lockdown, then a curfew, but it’s been six months now and life is returning to somewhat normal.

So far, the government says 1000 people have died, so it’s not as scary as other places. Europe and America have been hit really bad, but we’ve been largely spared.

We’re supposed to wear a mask in public now, but only about 10 people actually do that. And they just wear it on their chin like a fake beard. Trust your people.

I live in Lagos now btw. I’ve lived here for two years now. I moved not long after you left and I should have written you then, I know.

I tried… but I couldn’t find the words.

It was a Sunday morning and I was in the study reading something on my laptop — I don’t even remember what. Mummy came in, smashed my laptop to the ground and started screaming something about “false idols”.

It was so sad to see her like that. She was all dressed for church, yelling like she was angry at me for something else… for being there, instead of you. I didn’t even get a chance to be angry because she just started bawling right after. I knew I had to leave.

Daddy and I got her cleaned up and I went to church with them.

Yes I went to church…

I left for Lagos the next morning.

I’ve lived here since, in a company apartment. All my friends these days are from work and I’m starting to forget what it used to be like back home. I went back for Christmas, but it’s not the same anymore. I loved seeing everyone again, but I was counting the hours to leave.

Everything changed after you left. The gang has split: I only see Dogara on Instagram, Chalya calls sometimes and Keziah… Keziah is getting married next year! It’s so weird.

You know, this would have be a great time for you to visit me in Lagos. There’s usually a lot of noise from neighbouring churches, but since the pandemic everywhere has gone beautifully silent. My roommate is cool too. (And so hot! You guys may have hit it off. 😉)

Anyway, I have to go. I’ve broken the spell so I hope it gets easier to write you. And if you find someone coming back, please send them a letter for me. You know I love letters.

I love you and we all miss you, Kyespan.

Between Eseosa and Jessica, we’ve uploaded 5,000 Nigerian album covers to an Airtable database. For now, I’m going to pause here.

They identified 577 designers for 2704 covers and this is definitely one of the more interesting things about the collection.

Ibukunola Printers, for example, seems to have been super prolific back in the day. Almost 10% of the covers we’ve scraped were produced there and yet, there’s no trace of it today. It’s quite sad-interesting.

A lot of this data has also been scraped off the internet, so I don’t overly trust it, but it’s a good visual collection to browse through.

Short term, I see the opportunity to open it up for contributions to review, complete, add to or explore the data, but I don’t have time tbh.

Long term (if I continue working on this), next steps will be to:

• Build a model to tag the images by colour, subject, e.t.c. For now, we only tag by artist, year, format and genre.
• Figure out how to scrape the internet for more. I don’t think it scales to manually do this curation.
• Make it into a proper database / site like https://beta.flim.ai. But again, no pressure.

I hope someone finds it useful as is.

👉🏾 wuruwuru.com/covers

The first one “Rolling”, was about putting a joint together.

This one, “Getting High”, is about the biology of how we get high.

It’s set in a smoke sesh with three friends. They pass the joint around and talk about the Endocannobinoid system.

Producing this episode was quite the learning experience, and it was so much easier. Tomiwa Ajiboye and I really learnt a lot from the first time around.

It went like this:

• First, we wrote a script with references and all
• Then, we curated a list of illustrators and settled on Bolu
• Tomiwa did an intro and we exchanged emails
• We sent a deposit for the storyboard

• The storyboard came back in 3D and I was so floored!
• I shared my feedback.
• We refined and published on 4/20. To date, I haven’t met or had a conversation with Bolu, the illustrator. The entire thing was done via email and it was amazing.

I loved her process, communication and work ethic. She’s a fantastic illustrator and I hope to work with her again in future.

So, where’s my head at with J Guide?

Tomiwa Ajiboye and I will keep making new episodes, however randomly.

We learn so much from doing the research and it’s nice to work with a different illustrator for each one.

We experimented with some Instagram marketing recently but nothing much came out of it, probably because it wasn’t intentional.

Maybe when we get to 10 episodes, we’ll try some marketing again. Maybe even make some merch, who knows?

Compared to other stuff, J Guide has been pretty cheap to produce. I only have to pay the illustrator. Even Cover Stories, which might not be published, has cost more so far.

We’re still taking it one at a time and not thinking of a regular cadence. I think we should make 10 episodes for a start and then decide what to do with it.

The next story is about the beauty benefits of CBD. It’s a fascinating topic I’ve learnt a lot directing and hopefully, this interests more women.

🤞🏾

wuruwuru.com/jguide

It hasn’t gotten any easier to write about myself, maybe harder tbh.

And it’s not because I struggle with the words. They still come easy, thankfully.

It’s because I overthink it.

I overthink everything.

I have many lovely memories on my phone, but photographs don’t include context and voice notes/videos are a little too literal.

I prefer words because they’re participative. Writing is dialogue.

Unfortunately, between overthinking who I’m writing for (or leaving out of my story) and scratching the itch anyway by writing at work, I don’t diary as much I want to.

Or I start… and delete until the page is bare again.

But, I promise to finish this one.

I often say I write these essays for myself alone, but if that was the case, then surely there’s no need to hit the publish button.

Truth is, it feels meaningless to keep these notes to myself. Writing to publish forces me to be reflective, honest, succinct, even poetic. Maybe I don’t write for everyone, but I surely write for some.

I guess I like to be seen after all.

Two years ago, when I last did one of these check-ins, I wanted to:

• build mental models for thinking about the world
• build a great design team
• maintain a healthy work-life balance
• not just travel, but experience life in a different culture
• properly learn a new language Interestingly, my goals today are pretty much the same.

I still read widely, hungry to learn everything. At a basic level, I understand world systems and can thrive in conversation.

I work hard, play hard and rest even harder—started this year with a 3-month sabbatical. The team has been doing so well, and Claire has now joined to help us grow even faster.

I’ve built stronger relationships with friends and family and made a ton of new buddies for life. More recently, I’ve started to travel again.

My French has been crawling along, and I’m planning to move to Abidjan for a few months to get it up.

Plus, I look fantastic and feel super sexy.

I loc’d my hair, got rich and spent some time in the gym (in that order).

These days I have regular, fantastic, audacious sex and my romantic relationships (still non-committal) are healthy.

Speaking French will be the icing on this cake.

Yum.

A lot of weird shit has happened in the world in the past year and a half and there’s a lot I’m not writing about.

But my world has been largely spared, and for that I’m grateful.

I hope my luck doesn’t run out.

I hope to continue being honest and kind, hungry and hardworking.

I hope to find the space to write more.

I hope to meet more people and continue to enrich my experience of the world.

I hope to do better at keeping in touch with friends and family.

I hope to continue to do weird shit.

Hopes (and fears) aside, I’m very grateful for where I’m at.

Yesterday, I turned 29 at La Sunday.

Djibril Cissé was DJ-ing while Timi and Jubril took pictures of me dancing.

It was yet another memorable night.

There’s really not much else to this, is there?

Je suis content.

I was so anxious. I didn’t trust my body or know what to expect. Very little in this life is as disappointing as being on someone’s case for years only to drop after four strokes. No no no.

Most of my longer bouts before then were intoxicated, so I figured that was a surefire way to go. I smoked and drank and got all ready. I was bursting with anticipation. This was going to be a finishing.

She arrives. We talk and play. Slowly, the clothes come off.

And then the shocker: I can’t get hard!

I‘m not exaggerating when I say I wanted to die. I wanted to enter the ground and disappear. After all those years!

I tried different ways to get myself up but nothing was working. Physical arousal was a dud. I couldn’t go mental. I got desperate and exasperated. Eventually, we gave up.

I learnt quite a few things about myself from that encounter, but most importantly I realised something: in all of my plotting and scheming, at no point was I really thinking about her.

I’m wiser now and I understand that sex is patient.

Everyone is different and it starts with learning body language. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to meet someone whose language I’m familiar with, but when that’s not the case, I’m eager to ask and learn.

I get more clearly that sex is a buffet. Movement. Sound. Eye contact. Toys. Cunnilingus. Control. Submission. Conversations. Dicking is only one of these things. Sex doesn’t have to end because someone can’t get hard.

I’ve learnt to communicate more. To ask, because not many people talk. To listen to what I’m being told. To hold the position when it matters. To pay attention to what they aren’t saying. To talk about the sex when we’re done.

I understand how important psychological safety is. Sex should be comfortable. Awkward, yes, but shameless. There’s no sex like when we let ourselves go. Moan. Writhe. Scream. Speak in tongues. Whatever.

My body hasn’t changed but I understand it so much better. Sometimes I come early, sometimes late. And that’s okay. I can now pace myself to control it, but sometimes I don’t even care. If I come in three seconds, glory to that WAP; I wash off and get back to work.

Most importantly, I’ve learnt to focus on the other person. Sex is an expression of care. I’m not doing this to come; I can do that all by myself. I’m doing this for the shared experience. “I want you to fuck me” means I want you to make me feel good in ways that I can’t possibly do alone.

And whew, there are many ways.

Getting High

J Guide Episode 2

I’ll share more detailed updates over the weekend.

Wuruwuru is no longer a team.

There’s no “we”. It’s just me making stuff with different people.

There’s no need to define what “we make”. It’s usually some random idea. It’s completely spontaneous.

The topics are not limited to internet culture in Nigeria. There’s no theme.

I can make whatever I want.

It’s not a digital magazine.

Not a physical one either.

There’s no need for an account manager. (Awks)

I’ll just follow other interesting publishing projects and retweet the best stuff I find.

Twitter’s also good for sharing journal updates and completed stories.

So yeah, I think I get it.

Wuruwuru is just a collection of publishing experiments.

It’s called Cover Stories and it’s a series of interviews with people who make or collect album cover art. The first three interviews are with Niyi Okeowo, Duks and Funto Coker.

The project is essentially a landing page + 3 interactive essays.

The design inspiration for the project is Chromatic Joy.

I want to work with someone who:

• is interested in graphic design and album cover art
• can make a really fun, responsive reading experience
• understands SEO and how to make the site rank well
• communicates well and consistently A huge win would be to find someone who’s self-directing and willing to evolve the idea. Asides the interviews, we also have an Airtable database of 700+ images that you can use to make the site more interesting.

If you’re someone like this (or know someone like this), please send an email to ope@wuruwuru.com with:

• an example of your work
• what you think about the project
• how much time you need
• how much money it’ll cost Please help!

Many people wanted Paystack to work. Days after go-live, Abdul (wkyo) shared the news with other excited nerds on Radar. In the 98-comment thread that followed, Ezra fielded and answered questions with class 💅🏽.²

Radar was a safe space to say “this is broken” and Ezra would suddenly appear to explain or note the issue. He was the face of the company at the beginning. It’s very befitting that the exit was no different.

The months that followed were different for us. Shola was often out to meet people, Ezra followed along for weekly YC events, and I mostly worked from home. In many ways, they were also similar. Ezra and I watched a lot of We Bare Bears and Steven Universe, looked out for exhibitions or movies to see and partied with Shola a couple of times. But mostly, we all worked.

There was no crazy product thinking to do at the time because the MVP was quite literally Stripe, but for Nigeria. I hated being compared to Stripe, but it really was the north star. Shola once started a requirements document with “Sadly, this is another page where we have to be heavily inspired by Stripe”. But it wasn’t just them. We also studied Braintree, PayPal, GoCardless e.t.c.

So, the first few months at Lawrence Station went something like this: we had a working MVP, people earnestly using the thing, great advice, fantastic inspiration, comfortable housing and thousands of dollars in the bank. With the benefit of hindsight, we’d have had to work hard to fuck it up.

Early Paystack was a democratisation of services that companies like Interswitch already provided. At first it was design — API, documentation, website and dashboard — that set us apart. Paystack was refreshingly nice and easy to use. The YC hype was far reaching and the experience was as advertised. More businesses signed up.

Here’s an excerpt from Shola’s first draft for his Demo Day speech:

There are 180 million people in Nigeria and they paid businesses $150B last year. Even though 60 million of them are active internet users, most of these payments were made offline because paying on the Internet is broken. For instance, setting up recurring billing requires the customer to fill out a paper form. Well, that was before Paystack.

By March, we had ~700 customers³ and a much-evolved product. Our first set of original features were to solve operational problems. Querying transactions from the DB got inefficient so we built Watchtower. It was difficult to debug Checkout complaints, so we added Transaction Timelines. People without websites wanted in, so we built Payment Pages. We started to see fraud so we hurried up DSS. The battle between chasing scale and trying not to crumble from the growth had begun.

Demo Day was a success and Shola’s calendar never looked back. Ezra and I continued to add improvements and security features. A month later, I was first to return home. We kept the apartment for a while and even went back later in the year.

1281 Lawrence Station was a non-smoking apartment so Ezra had to come downstairs and go all the way across the road when he wanted to smoke. I joined him often and, frankly speaking, this was probably the hardest thing about life those days.

See why I can’t let it go?

This is № 2 in a series of stories about work at Paystack before the acquisition. The first one was Exit.

¹ https://browndroppings.co/going-live ² https://radar.techcabal.com/t/paystack-is-live ³ https://paystack.com/2016

My story starts with this email.

I’ve always shared my work publicly and attracted goodwill because of it. Every job I’ve had has been because someone found my work on the internet: Chris Ogunlowo. Dika Oha. Timi Ajiboye. Lanre Oyedotun. Mayowa’s email was one in a series of first contacts that changed my life. Unfortunately I was busy, so I politely declined and he agreed to reach out again.

At the time, consulting was the common tech company model. You find a gig through family and friends. You make a demo. You print business cards and attend some overdressed meetings. The deposit hits and it’s the most money you’ve ever seen. You put together a small team to build or deploy the software. You continue to chase deals. Suddenly, there’s a stream of work and you need more people. You start to hire full-time and spin off teams.

Eventually, consulting gets overwhelming, so you start to look for a way out. You’re lucky enough to sign a deal that earns you a year or more of runway. You begin to focus on problems you’ve seen your clients struggle with. You split your team into two, hoping your new product idea makes enough recurring income that you can quit consulting for good.

Mayowa and Shola ran a latter-stage consultancy called KleinDevort. Their flagship was an intranet solution called Precurio, which they sold alongside an accounting and a loan management app. Working with clients, they realised the need for a business intelligence tool, a dashboard that could plug into various sources to summarise the health of the company. This was going to be a modern SaaS product. So, two years after his first email, Mayowa reached out to me again to work on their new product Seegad.

This time, I was more than eager to take on the offer. I had a full-time job at Delivery Science, but I was consulting to pay the bills. I joined the project as Designer / Frontend Engineer in May 2015 alongside Namzo and Larry. The gig lasted about two months, and although I mostly worked with Mayowa, he and Shola both liked my work. So when it was done, Shola asked me to help with something else.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but Paystack was Shola’s golden ticket out of consulting. While working with banks, he’d discovered APIs he could use to charge any card. With this, he could build a product for recurring payments, a Stripe or Braintree for Nigeria. As a developer, he understood the need deeply, so he put together a demo.

Shola knew about YC from Hacker News, and with a little help from OO, applied to the W16 batch. The business was relatable and Shola’s experience slash conviction was good enough. For the first time ever, the Silicon Valley funding and hype machine was going to cast its net over to Nigeria. But first, Shola had to get a CTO.

Enter Ezra. The two friends had kept in touch since uni and he’d been giving Shola technical advice on his side project. Ezra and I worked at Delivery Science (and at the time it wasn’t pretty). Before DS, Ezra had helped scale Jobberman and dabbled in payments with SoftPurse and Eyowo. He was Shola’s man for the job, and the offer couldn’t have been better timed. Ezra agreed to join, and in November they travelled together to San Francisco for the interview. They got in.

By the end of the year, we were working as a team and seeing often. Shola wrote product requirements and moved on to other stuff; Ezra started on the API; I started work on the website and Dashboard. The Dashboard was to have four modules: Transactions, Customers, Plans and Settings. The goal was to go live early January 2016.

Between consulting for Shola and being friends with Ezra, I knew the YC stuff was going on, but I didn’t understand the implications. I had an internship offer from Bakken & Baeck and was just waiting for my visa to Norway. But I still needed the money so I was happy to consult.

When my visa was denied, Shola and Ezra offered me accommodation in San Francisco. They didn’t want to hire until after Demo Day, so I joined as a contractor earning $1000/month. My mum called Shola and, in nine minutes, he managed to convince her to let me travel.

For the first time, I was going to America.

Tomiwa has started work on a new episode for The J Guide, Getting High. Essentially, what we’re doing now is that each Instagram Highlight is an episode drawn by a different illustrator. Getting High is a guide on how to properly inhale and the physics of getting high.

The first draft of the colour script for Hanky Panky also came in. There’s a lot of early feedback, so Chuks is back to work. Sound is still on hold.

After three months of leave, I suspect I owe my employers some attention, so at the end of this month, I’m going power-saving on Wuruwuru.

Things won’t be entirely quiet. Hanky Panky only needs feedback, Eseosa will run the Twitter account / Cover Bank and Tomiwa will continue to make new episodes for The J Guide. I’ll keep an eye on things.

What’s left now is to publish Cover Stories (formerly A Retrospective of Album Cover Art). I hope to be done by the end of the week.

Residential office buildings in Lagos have a special place in my heart. First, you can always tell which room was supposed to be the master bedroom e.t.c. so it’s interesting to see how the space has been repurposed. Also, they remind me so much of the Nigerian hustle.

On January 27, we went to Omole Phase I to record the conversation for the film. Daniel (editor), Oshuwa (voice actor), Kolade (sound) and I were meeting for the first time at the VSonics studio, all of us complete noobs to animation.

After we got introduced, Kolade recommended we spend the first session rehearsing, which was obvious in hindsight. So, Oshuwa spent the hour practicing the voices while Daniel and I wrote improvements to the script.

Kolade was also glad to explain the sound production process for our film—Voice Recording, Dialogue Editing, Backgrounds, Walla, Foley, SFX, Score and Mixing—and he later sent it in as a PDF.

Oshuwa would voice the script line by line, repeating each one until perfect. At the end, the sound engineers would stitch the fragments together, remove unwanted sounds and level the recording. Other sounds to include are of Lagos in motion (Atmos), realistic background conversations (Walla), micro-sounds like footsteps and clothes (Foley), sound effects (SFX) and a musical composition for the film (Score). The final soundtrack is mixed to the specification of the platform we choose to publish on.

Satisfied, we scheduled our next session for February 4.

The day of the second recording started out funny. Daniel and I got stopped by the Police, Oshuwa had a parking incident outside the studio and Chuks (he joined us this time) was delayed for more than an hour. But, in spite of these unfortunate events, it was a good time.

As described, Oshuwa read the lines while Kolade stitched them together. Daniel and Chuks made suggestions and I was mostly in charge of the AC (we had to turn it off when recording to avoid noise).

In the end, we spent three hours of studio time at N64,500 each, Voice Acting cost N150k and Post-Production will cost N559k. Vsonics sent in a prototype of the soundtrack, I’ve roped in LMBSKN for the score and we’ll continue with sound when the animatics are done.

Listen to the Concept Audio

Soon enough, Eseosa Belo-Osagie brought up the idea to do a smaller story about album covers and we went with that instead.

The eventual idea was two-fold. First, we’d visit an old printing shop, talk to people, take pictures and document what we learn. Unfortunately, the two places we visited were gone and pursuing new leads was stressful, so I chose to do it in another issue.

Secondly, we planned to interview a few cover designers. I particularly wanted to speak to older artists and even got a few leads e.g. Temi Kogbe. I lazily tried to reach out but had so much anxiety about it that I gave up as soon as they didn’t respond. I chose peace of mind and decided to pursue people closer to me. I emailed Niyi Okeowo, Funto Coker and Duks and they agreed to a video call.

Issue 1 will be a compilation of those interviews + a mini app for browsing album covers by year or designer.

Desktop Prototype Mobile Prototype

When I first thought of making an animated film, I called Ani, an old internet friend, and vomited my idea: it’s a film about weddings, inspired by a conversation on I Said What I Said (from 120:05), 2D, maybe stop motion, the story told from the perspective of a lady getting wed, colourful animated scenes to highlight the peculiar details. I wanted to know how much to expect to spend and how long it might take to get it done.

From that conversation, I learnt a few things:

• Animation/film making is expensive. It costs a couple millions to make even a 1-minute feature.
• The length of the film is the most important determiner in costing.
• To put it bluntly, you’re not ready until the script is done.
• Even with everything in place, it takes a few months to make a film. I called another filmmaker friend, 88 to get a second opinion and he said pretty much the same thing. He also recommended some animators to me. Finally, I called TMXO to get an idea of sound. I was probably going to have to contract a studio, but hopefully, the animator might be able to direct it. For the first time, I heard about the word foley, the reproduction of everyday sound effects in films.

I decided to postpone making Owambe because I realised I’m not ready for it. For something as culturally important as weddings, the film has to be perfect, and I can’t do that yet. Considering how little I know about animation, I don’t believe I can execute what’s in my head with peers.

So, sitting in the car with my friend listening to her aunty accuse her of being a lesbian, I decided that Hanky Panky was the film to make.

Team

As I mentioned in December, I went with Chuks to animate the film because of a Keke napep video from 3 years ago. He’s the head of animation at a company called DisruptDNA but also does side projects.

I wrote a plot and sent an email to him on the 17th on November. He responded about a week later and we got on a call. Off the bat, he sounded like someone I wanted to work with: soft spoken, enthusiastic, engaging. Definitely had to have some experience working with people.

I set up the project on Basecamp and invited him to it. I got my friend Daniel to join as director and invited a few other people to help with feedback. The project was officially starting.

Script

First thing to do was get as much of the actual conversation. My friend sent a long voice note detailing the call including screenshots of chats that happened after. This would come in useful for the script.

I’d spoken to another friend Jessica to help write the script. We’d discussed it a few times, and so she had context. On December 7, we officially agreed for her to start. It took about four iterations to get to a final script and I offered to pay but she refused. (If you’re reading this Jessica, I’m going to pay you when the film is done whether you like it or not).

With this done, I shared with Chuks. I also asked for a general overview of the animation process to get a sense of how things’d go.

Process

Chuks responded with a note in Basecamp detailing the steps involved in making the film and all the people involved in each process. He also shared a PDF explaining some of them.

• Character Design: Conceptualize the individuals
• Environment Design: Architect the world of the film
• Foley/SoundFx/Background Music: Make it sound great
• Storyboarding: More or less a comic book for the film
• Animatics: Visual preview before production
• Colour Script: Animation and lighting preview
• Asset/Prop Design: Random stuff to fill out the location
• Animation
• Composition and Video Editing
• Motion graphics About 7 people will work on this animation with him across these 10 processes, including a project manager. I met some of them over a call recently to introduce myself and ginger them to make the best film of their lives.

We agreed to split the film into four phases. In the Prep phase, we complete the character design, environment design and voice acting. These will serve as fodder for the Design phase, where the storyboarding, animatics and colour script cement how the film plays. In the Build phase, we make the animation, motion graphics and mix the sound. In the Polish phase, we make final corrections and compose the final outcome.

I paid 1 million to get the first phase started and we closed for the year.

Style

A lot of the references I had for the film were random videos I liked on the internet, so Chuks counter-shared some references and asked for feedback:

• Zadna-Iftar-time
• OnlyBio-Explainer-video
• Lintgrit-sportive
• Visual-Development-Georgia-Commute-Animation

I didn’t like the Georgia Commute style very much. I found the geometric style too commercial and emotionless. I see Hanky Panky as a bit of an art film, and I wrote to make him understand this. If I had to choose from his references, I’d go with Zadnar Iftar Time.

I strongly believe the animators should use whatever style is most natural to them, so I’m not specific about it. However, I want the style to be natural, detailed and textured; not edgy, rigid and plain. He later sent me some more promising illustration samples.

Character Design

Apart from the script, something else we had to provide for Chuks was character profiles. His team needed one to figure out what the characters should look like and Daniel did a killer job of this. It was incredibly detailed, very useful for designing the characters and was helpful for giving feedback on character design. Here’s an early sketch of what that translated into:

Environment Design

There was some early confusion about where the movie should be set. The actual event happened in Phase 1, so that’s what I originally wrote in the plot. Chuks, on the other hand, inferred from our chats that I wanted identifiable Lagos landmarks, so he was thinking Lekki-Ikoyi bridge (😂).

To resolve it, I opened it up for conversation. Most of the actual event happened around Centro mall, I thought Admiralty might work, but the winner suggestion, from Daniel, was Falomo junction. I put together a short note on how the location might play out and shared it with the team.

This is also very much in progress, but here are some rough sketches:

Sound

I’d agreed to handle the voice acting to get a true sense of the running time for the film and 88 recommended a studio called VSonics. I reached out to Kolade Morakinyo on January 13 and he responded some hours later to let me know they charge 60k per studio hour for recording, not including editing. From experience, he also advised that voice-over artists charge at least N50k per “Standard Script” — (in advertising) — which is usually 30 to 45 seconds long in word length.

In December, I’d discovered a friend of a friend who could help with the voice acting, Oshuwa. Most recently, she acted in Smart Money Woman. After procrastinating for weeks, I finally emailed her on Jan 20 and she agreed to help. She asked a few questions and we settled on Jan 28 for recording.

Eventually, Chuks decided it was best I handle all the sound in the film, so when I’m over at Vsonics later today, we’ll have a conversation about what it costs to mix sound for the film. Here’s a sample of their work:

We’re still deeply in the prep phase. Both character and environment design are still ongoing and will take some time to complete, but there’s enough good feedback there. I’m excited to see how voice acting goes and what changes we make to the script.

Fingers crossed.

I almost regret telling anyone I’m making a magazine. I’m so far from making a physical publication. Why was my “end goal” even to make a magazine in the first place? 🤷🏽‍♂️

It took a few months and many drawings, but we finally published The J Guide. We created an Instagram comic that contributes to the wealth of knowledge on the internet for learning how to roll a joint. Why?

I guess we made something “new” and learnt a few things. I picked up some knowledge about storytelling in comics, Vanny learnt how to draw hands better, Tomiwa got better at Figma and in a sense this feels like a gift for JB.

The next step is to use the guide to teach some friends. After this we’ll run some Instagram ads to get the follower count up and see how other people interact with it. In a future essay, we’ll do a proper retrospective of what we learnt and how we could have done better.

All things considered, I’m glad it’s published: @thejguide

I’m almost halfway through the loan I took to start the “magazine”. The bulk of the money so far has been spent on intern salaries and downpayment for Hanky Panky (the animated film).

Sometimes I think I was just plain stupid for taking on (not one, but two) interns, but then I remind myself why and relax. It’s great that Tomiwa and Eseosa get to be decently paid to make fun stuff and learn. Create the world you want to see and all that.

In these first 3 months, I didn’t do as much to help direct and encourage them, but I’m glad they’re learning nonetheless. In the next 9 months I’ll be more intentional about helping out.

At 57 likes, this is yet the most famous tweet from the Twitter account, all thanks to name-dropping. The Album Cover Art project is in a good place because, asides the database, we finally know what to do with it.

It’s to be a series of retrospectives with people who make album cover art. We’ll start with three artists (Niyi Okeowo, Funto Coker, Duks) and one print shop (Ibukunola Printers).

For each person-place, I want to document their story and creative process carefully and beautifully. When you search for them on the internet, I want our feature to be one of the early results. I want them to be proud of the published stories and eager to share it with people.

Not only have we resolved what we want to do, but we’ve also studied the visual artists and written short profiles. We’ve tried to find Ibukunola twice with no luck, but surely in the new year.

We’ll start publishing these essays in January.

Honestly, the most exciting thing about Hanky Panky is that Yanmo, Jessica, Daniel, Chukwudi and I are making a film together. I feel good saying that. I’m doing something new with friends.

I sent this message to the group a few days ago:

Hi everyone! The holidays are here and we all deserve rest so let’s put a pause to the project and pick it up on January 11.

So far, we’ve had preliminary conversations, completed the character profiles and written the script. Only two things are left before we start storyboarding: to get the voice acting done and to have a kick off conversation.

We have someone to voice act and this will be the first thing we do in the new year.

We’ll follow this up with a kick off conversation with Chukwudi and team where we go over all the material, throw our ideas together and agree on style, running time and compromises for money and time.

It’s been a long year so I hope you enjoy the holidays. Cheers ✨

I’ll share more about this when we resume in a few weeks. If you have any animation book or video recommendations, do share with me.

I won’t say these first three months have been ideal. I’ve been plenty unsure, mildly supportive, irregularly invested and in some sense, wasteful.

But writing this, I remind myself why it’s called Wuruwuru: because I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s an expensive hobby, sure. But with each story, I’m meeting new people and we’re learning to make new things together.

It doesn’t have to be anything more.

I love a personal essay. It’s my favourite thing to read on Medium. I’ve even tried to curate my recommendations to see just that, but no luck so far.

Of course we put a lot of words on the internet, but essays about self / to self are a special way to experience someone.

Tonight I‘m listening to Emmit Fenn because Ada recommended it. Ada doesn’t know me, but she writes to me.

When you take a piece of yourself and put it on the internet, where does it all go? Well, some of it comes to me. And some of that becomes me.

Onyinye is still trying to get paper for the brochure (sigh, it’s tough) and I haven’t had the mental space to try other options. We played around with new colours for the brochure, but seeing as we can’t even get brown filter paper, my hopes of getting salmon pink are low.

After this is done, I need to think about distribution. We’re currently floating a few ideas like trying out Instagram ads to learn about targeting. We might also make other printed goods asides from the brochure.

Google also recently announced web stories, which is really interesting. I’ve long expected stories to become a native web storytelling format and it seems to be a not-so-far-off idea. We might republish the comic part as a web story and try some SEO optimisation for “How to roll”.

But first, can’t wait to get this done.

The J Guide

This is the second month of (slowly) working on The J Guide. Vanny has been creating lots of images and I’ve been sending lots of feedback. Tomiwa has been working on the dialogue and is thinking about distribution for the prints. We need to get this done in time for Detty December.

Vanny has been so thoughtful and enthusiastic about this and it makes me really happy. See this message for example:

More likely than not, this is the only story we finish this year.

Nigerian Album Covers

I’ve contracted a writer, Wale Oloworekende, to help Eseosa with the Album Covers story. Fu’ad recommended him and I love his energy. I’ve also asked him to help me figure out how to pay freelance writers (starting with himself). He’s working on this with Fu’ad and I’ll share when they’re done.

Eseosa has also created a list of people we’re interviewing:

• Olusegun Belo-Osagie: This is Eseosa’s dad! He’s been a graphic artist for many years and I’m sure we’ll find a few more older artists (other than Lemi Ghariokwu) after talking to him.
• Ibukunolu Printers: We learnt that this is the most popular printer in Lagos, especially with Fuji and Apala artists. Eseosa and Wale went to Mushin but couldn’t locate them. If you have any information, let us know.
• Duks Arts: He’s done a handful of covers for Olamide and it’ll be really interesting to discuss that relationship.
• Niyi Okeowo: Niyi’s covers for ShowDemCamp and recently Fireboy DML are worth a conversation.
• Funto Coker: She designed The Cavemen’s ROOTS cover and Lady Donli’s Rockstar Parole cover. The two covers are stylistically different and each one really captures the spirit of the artist and music. I love it and I can’t wait to speak.
• Yinka Inker: I don’t know much about them yet. We’ll take some time to study each person, write and discuss profiles before we start interviewing. Also, I met an artist, Tony, who’s excited about album covers and the magazine in general. I’m hoping to speak to him properly this week to improve my direction.

Hanky Panky

“Who starts a new project without completing the existing ones? Really? BUT, I believe in my ability to carry multiple things at once. I’ve done it many times at work. Otherwise, why would I be doing this?”

That’s the speech I gave to myself when I started preparing for a third story, this time an animated film! The film I really want to make is about Owambes but that’ll take some time so I’m starting with a much shorter story.

88 recommended an animator to me, Chukwudi. I’ve spoken to him about it and he sounded excited to work on it. I asked about the process and it looks something like this (simplified):

• Write the script
• Design the characters
• Storyboard
• Animate
• Add sound My goal is to get the script written this year and maybe character design too. The whole thing will probably take a few months to complete but we’ve started sha.

Anyway, we hope to start publishing in November. Tomiwa will complete the J Guide with Vanny and Eseosa’s writing an essay about album covers.

The J Guide

We need 90gsm kraft paper for the physical brochure and OD hasn’t been able to source this yet. Her printer uses an HP Indigo so there’s a compatibility constraint too. We’re going to exhaust all options to find the paper locally, but if not we’ll have to ship some. In the meantime, I’ve been learning about the basics of paper and how it’s made.

I’ve also just completed the storyboard for the Highlights, so we can start illustrating the actual guide. We can publish the guide without the brochure.

Nigerian Album Art

One of the early stories we wanted to make was about the history of Nigerian pop music in general. But it’s such a massive topic and the more research we did, the more there was to write about.

So we’re starting with a smaller subject: album art. Eseosa will work on a timeline of Nigerian album art over the years. We’ll document how the production process has evolved and do interviews with people who’ve made a career out of this type of graphic design.

We’ve started with some desk research and collected ~ 290 images of album covers over the years. We still need to upload the cover and find the designer for many of them. I guess that’s the work.

On October 16, 2018, I got a DM from a stranger. Considering how long it was, it was probably better as an email. He was a 19-year old designer who was stuck with shallow-thinking bosses and wanted to learn how to get them to think critically and listen to him. I gave him some generic advice but I knew it was largely useless. He was not the problem; they were.

One year later, he sent another DM for me to check out arthistoryproject. A few days later, he asked to borrow my copy of Grid Systems. After this, he continued to share websites he thought I’d like: Color Leap, Braille Institute, Cross Cultural Design, Nomad Radio. He also asked for feedback a lot. The first was a State of Jobs site for Devcenter. Then his portfolio. Then some Corona Relief website. And so on, he continued.

He’d always check in to see if the company was hiring or to compliment my essays and remind me that I was motivational for him. I never really knew how to respond besides “Thanks!” or “❤️”. Finally, after 2 years of texting, I messaged to tell him we were hiring and he could interview. We scheduled his intro call for October 21, 2020.

A week before the call, the EndSARS protests broke out. By Monday, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to take an interview. None of us were. So I postponed all our calls by a week, including the one with Obi-Enadhuze Oke. On Wednesday, the day we were supposed to meet with him, his family was looted and he was killed. Until the very end, his country failed him.

To live in Nigeria is to live against all the odds. There’s no leadership, no infrastructure, no education, no security and no justice. What you get is what you take for yourself, and even when you dare to dream, it can always be snatched from you. Oke and many others have died this week because we dared to ask to stop being killed. Clearly, the future is a mirage.

I don’t know how long I have until Nigeria ends me too, but I will never forget Oke. To me, he represents all of us who look up to the internet as a way to do better than the options we’ve been presented. He’s a reminder to care for one another’s dreams because they can be taken away with violence.

I never met the guy but it hurts a lot. I can’t imagine what it must be like for his family and friends. If you can, please help them rebuild:

Tomiwa and I have designed a sample brochure. We might change it later when we start the comic but we’re going ahead to do test prints.

Next step is to find paper. I’m thinking of making an effect for the type (not sure yet) and also considering perforation.

Random: I just learnt about Facebook’s Analog Research Lab and I can’t help but imagine what life would be like if I had this kind of space and support.

I’m also considering making a small zine before the full format magazine. Zines are lighter to read and easier to distribute (think Awake). They’re also more affordable. I can imagine pricing them at like NGN 200 (or whatever pays for the cost of production). I also have more confidence that we can print this locally.

The idea is to follow up every story or project with a zine. Each zine can focus on a specific discipline e.g. comics, music production, web design or animation and go into detail about it. We can cover the history, write interviews, guides for new beginners, make a glossary of independent artists and include a lot of graphic design. I’m thinking of calling it Concept because that’s the Nigerian word for “idea”.

If you know anything about printing that might present another angle to consider this from, let me know.

I have a day job I still intend to keep for a long time, so my plan is to work on Wuruwuru weekends and direct Eseosa/Tomiwa during the week (at least until that 3-month sabbatical).

After many hours (whew), I’m finally done with the initial company setup: documentation, project management, brand and website.

Here’s what that looks like.

We’re using Basecamp to organise projects, tasks, files and to dump ideas for conversation. Basecamp is the best task management tool for small teams because it’s so intuitively organised. Like, they really thought about the thing.

We can keep using Basecamp for free if we stay under 3 projects and delete the ones we’re not working on.

We’re writing company documentation and essays in Notion. It’s the best tool I‘ve used for writing, freeform exploration and small textual databases. We’re also using Notion on the free plan.

For larger databases, Airtable is king and we’ll be using it for research and curations. Again, free plan here.

I decided against a mailing list / Mailchimp for community because that’s just one more tool we don’t really need yet. Instead, we’ll use Twitter for community and updates.

• The pinned tweet is a thread of what we’re working on 🚧
• We’ll share links to books we’re reading 📖
• We’ll publish journal entries to Twitter 💬 Eventually, we might do more with this, but we should probably get one story out first.

The branding is still a little unrefined because I haven’t done enough research or consultation. It was more important to get it done so I can get back to other things, but I think what we have so far works.

My guiding model was “barebones, newspaper, type-heavy, a little scattered”. We should be able to brand every story independently without conflicting with the site’s aesthetic.

I started with a mood board and ended with vibes. When I eventually finished, the first thing that popped in my mind was [adult swim].

I went through adultswim.com and it was clear as day that I was inspired by this. In fact, their approach to content is so much closer to what I’m trying to do than Aeon, The Pudding or any of the other models I’ve been focused on.

It’s now I realise where my “adult playground” tagline idea came from.

I chose Söhne Schmal for the word mark inspired by that of The Black Panther. Nothing deep, just a nod. Since the Söhne collection also includes sans-serif and mono typeface variants, I decided to use it exclusively for the site. Well, except for links. By “stumbleupon”, I ended up setting links in the default italic font. I wonder who I learnt that from.

The most interesting thing I ended up doing is this dot that follows the cursor as you move around the site. The boxes stay within the checkered boxes and this creates a nice bit-like effect that lends a modern, quirky air to the whole thing.

I love it. Try it out wuruwuru.com.

I’m reading Understanding Comics to help with directing the illustrations for Bros J’s Guide.

“Comics” is an amazing art form, a medium of juxtaposed sequential images intended to convey meaning to the reader. They tend to be very immersive because they require a lot of participation. With comics, you have to complete the story between the panels with your imagination. He calls this closure.

When you kill a man between panels, he dies a thousand deaths

I’m halfway through and the most exciting thing I’ve learned so far is how to think about transitions. Looking forward to the second half.

Day 1 of Wuruwuru and I spent all day writing and setting up tools. Wuruwuru emails are now set up for Eseosa Belo-Osagie (ebelosagie) and Ajiboye Ayotomiwa (designgod) 🙄. I’ve also set up Notion for documentation, Basecamp for tasks, Airtable for research and Twitter for marketing.

What are you employing this thing to do for you? (EQ)

Wuruwuru is a playground for interesting ideas.

We’re making multimedia stories about design and popular culture in Nigeria with the goal to eventually publish and sell a magazine.

The idea is to take an interesting question or topic and explore it with a visual essay, game, music album, animation, documentary, dataset or whatever best tells the story. The stories will be made with other independent makers and enthusiastic friends. We’ll also work on mini projects to learn how to create and sell high quality digital/printed goods.

The experiment is to publish these stories online for free and later compile them into a magazine for sale. The magazine will also include internet education, how-we-made-it essays, interviews with collaborators and fun graphic design.

We’re taking it one story/project at a time, starting with Bros J’s Guide. It’s an Instagram comic about learning to roll up, marketed with a trifold brochure (tract). The booklet will be made of cardboard so it can be cut up and used as a filter and the inside spread will be lined to make it easy to fold. I called Onyinye and she says she can print!

For the actual guide, we’re thinking Instagram highlights and feed images illustrated in a monochrome comic style. From my experience with Instagram landing pages (paystackgift, ori.igo), I expect this to be fun.

The time is 6 something, which means I slept around midnight. Or maybe it’s 7 something and I only went to bed four hours ago. My devices are within reach, a lazy stretch away perhaps. I’m about to roll over but I stop myself. I take a minute to breathe, to welcome the day. Then I roll over and flip it open.

Is there feedback? Is there a message waiting? Does everything work as expected? Do I have enough time to make some progress on that other thing before I start my day? Has my brain untangled those thoughts that lulled me to bed?

But first, I catch up on Twitter. Someone is happy. Someone is angry. Someone is making jokes. Someone has shared something interesting. Another ten minutes pass before I catch myself. Time dey go. It’s a new day and my to-do list is a bottomless pit.

The time is 9 something. I’m in fresh clothes — a plain coloured tee and shorts. I’m downstairs by the electric kettle playing tea roulette, one of the highlights of my day. Strawberry? Earl grey? Hibiscus? Hibiscus.

I sit at the table and do my email/internet rounds as my beverage cools. Ayomide works while something nice plays on the speakers. This must be one of my better days. Depending on what weekday it is, maybe I started with a run. Or maybe it was group meditation with office friends.

Other days start a little different. On some of them, I don’t have time to change from green tee, cream shorts to yellow tee, blue shorts. Maybe I promised to complete something and need to keep my word. Or maybe the calls start too early and they’re bumper-to-bumper. On days like this, I can’t help myself. I start working right away and keep it going.

I probably start with VS Code, maybe Slack, maybe Notion. Maybe it’s for work, or one of my ideas, or one of the things I help people with. I start somewhere and work my way through the day, one project after the other.

Today is another day of sitting at my computer.

I have an easy life. I get to build things that make me feel good about myself. I get to work with amazing people who treat me with love and respect. I get to pursue my (frivolous) interests with reckless abandon. But recently, I‘ve been wishing for everything to stop.

I know this feeling is temporary. I can project myself into a future where I wake up and have absolutely no one to answer to. I also know it’s not too far off. Maybe a month or two.

Maybe I’m in Chicago. Or Paris. Or Utrecht. Maybe I’m back in a city with a delightful built environment, where the streets tickle me, where I get lost on the stations, jog to landmarks, visit the stationery shops, sit by the pier and read. Maybe I’m travelling through Nigeria again.

Or maybe I’m still here. In Lagos. My car is working again, the Third Mainland Bridge is open, I’m pursuing new interests, going out is exciting again. Maybe.

Until then, I guess I’m stuck with this fucking routine.

Street addresses are not specific or consistent enough for modern use, so in recent times multiple digital address projects have spun up to close the gap.

Postcode-based systems like GhanaPostGPS improve on existing postal codes by appending a unique string generated using geolocation data. More often than not, these are government-backed projects, a natural evolution of the humble postcode. Nigeria has one such system, named NIPOST DAS.

Nigeria’s Digital Addressing System has a landing page with a short introduction and a marketing site for an Address Verification Service but otherwise, there’s not much about it on the internet. There’s also the Address by NIPOST Android app. I’m yet to test it, but the reviews don’t look positive.

Grid-based systems on the other hand e.g. what3words (UK), SnooCODE (Ghana) and GridCodes (Nigeria) use geolocation to divide the globe into a grid of squares. They then assign an address to each square using unique character or word concatenations.

what3words is the best one I’ve seen so far. They use regular words for the addresses which makes it much easier to remember. They’re also the most advanced with really useful tricks like offline navigation and the ability to translate the words into different languages (yo!).

Today, these digital address systems are largely used by enthusiasts and emergency services and it may take a while before they become the norm in everyday use, but i.cannot.wait.

As Paystack has grown, the design team has changed and I’ve been at the helm of this. Some things have worked out and others have failed, but in all we’ve learnt good lessons.

As a company, we know we should write more about the work we do. We make mistakes that others can learn from, and we learn so much on the job that there’s a lot we can talk about. But it’s hard to share. It takes time and needs encouragement. I hope this essay bells the cat.

Regardless, this exercise is useful for me to reflect on my growth as a designer, and I hope as a guide for others who have to lead someday. Here are some things I’ve learnt in the past four years of designing at Paystack.

1. Document everything

If I woke up and it was 2016 again, the first thing I’ll do is buy Bitcoin (🤷‍♂). But also, I’ll take documentation very seriously. One recurring problem we’ve faced on the team is giving everyone equal context. Where is what? How do things work? And why?

Without well-written, frequently-updated documentation, it takes more time to understand things. Newer team members are more prone to mistakes, and everything takes longer because changes can cascade unpredictably. Helping to document the work in a searchable, predictable way is something every designer should be proactive about.

2. Design for your team

We should care for our team mates as much as we do customers. With more volumes, operations becomes more difficult and when processes are manual, the team will struggle. Mistakes are more likely to happen and people won’t get the time or space to do their best work. To solve this, the company needs to automate.

As designers, our role in this is to:

• Talk to people about their work: We should learn how things are, what they should be, what constraints exist and why, and design solutions that account for all, elegantly.
• Understand how prototypes really work: For example, if you’ve designed a form, who does it get sent to? And what do they do with it? How should the process affect your design? And can your design influence the process?

• Encourage small improvements: A small change like button colour can improve someone’s workflow significantly. Look out for small UX wins during research, and when you find them, encourage the PM to prioritize; if you can, fix it yourself. On the other side of product, we can also help with:

• Onboarding: We should know what the experience of joining the company is like and look to actively improve it.
• Communication: We should read what people share, offer to help with explanatory diagrams, offer feedback to make presentations better e.t.c. We should proactively help the team communicate better.
• Benefits: We should care about how the team accesses benefits, from how’re they’re documented to how we get them. We should constantly give feedback to make the process better.
• Swag: We should aim to delight our team mates the same way as we do customers. We should lend ideas and actively make the experience of working at the company memorable. This is not an exhaustive list and there are surely other ways design can contribute, as long as we’re looking.

3. Leadership is not mastery

The thing about designing for a startup is that you’re likely become a leader very early and this can sidestep personal growth. This is why titles make me anxious. What does being a “senior designer” or “design director” mean outside of your context?

Of course, doing the work and leading people teaches a lot, but it doesn’t teach mastery. It helps to be very intentional about improving at your craft, especially if you want to continue to contribute independently.

4. Delegation is about support

For a long time, I thought delegation was just about splitting the work—you take this, I take that. After a few disappointments, I’ve learnt otherwise.

Delegation is a process of handing over responsibilities to someone else. It’s a process, not an event. I’ve learnt to set expectations and then help people meet them: ask questions, proactively (and kindly) remind them of what they miss, review their work, point out what they can do better, acknowledge when they discover my mistakes, and keep at it until they completely understand the responsibility.

5. Learn from others

For a long time, it was important for me to be “original” and not to copy others. I’m wiser now and understand that everything is a remix. One of the fastest ways to do good work is to study existing good work and apply what you find. I’ve learnt to start my process with a reference study. Who else has done this? How did they execute it? And what can I learn from them?

6. Typography makes all the difference

Knowing how to pair fonts and arrange type makes the most difference in your work. By the time you get good at this, you probably have a hang of other graphic design basics. Write short, clear sentences. Avoid typos. Read things back to yourself. Pay attention to what the words look and sound like.

7. Take care of yourself

There are different ways to look out for yourself.

• Physically: Don’t overwork, take planned breaks. Pay attention to how you work and maintain healthy habits. There are no extra perks for working when you shouldn’t. It’s a difficult choice, but it’s all up to you.
• Professionally: Pay attention to your strengths and feedback. Ask for support when you need it. Be vocal about your plans for yourself. Write about the work you’re doing and keep your portfolio alive. The easiest trick to getting started is to write when you learn something new.
• Personally: Use the team to get feedback on your ideas. Someone else might already be thinking about it or have recommendations that can go a long way.

  8. Everything good is a team sport

4 years later, the design team at Paystack has grown to an 8-person voltron that can do more incredible work than any one of us can individually.

It’s important not to attach too much ego to the work. Don’t waste time trying to figure things out yourself. If you don’t understand the context, ask . If the expectations aren’t clear, ask. When you’re stuck, ask. Expect to do multiple iterations. Invite the team help you make it better.

Today the design team at Paystack consists of me,

• Kaz and Seeto, graphic design
• Tomi and Demilade, web design
• Chinonso, Bobby and Kachi, product design We’ve also worked with Seyi and Dami of Dá Design studio since 2017.

Meet the team:

At first blush, the title of Jenny Odell’s book suggests that it is a self-help book on how to make better (dis)use of time, and yes it is, but it’s more than just that.

How to Do Nothing is not a particularly focused book as it doesn’t have one specific point. It is instead a journey into the mind of the author, who has evidently thought long and hard about how else to be in the world. This book is a well-documented curation of ideas, sometimes loosely connected, about alternative ways of living. A more apt title would be How to Do Anything Else.

Jenny Odell is an artist, writer and educator based in Oakland, California. Her digital and physical curations are exciting and she’s known for her love of birds. This book is a stream of essays about her way of life and how she’s arrived at it. It’s a testimony to the allure, difficulty and reward of building a deeper relationship with both the human and non-human world we live in. It’s a manifesto for attention.

She discusses a good many things in the book: bird-watching and public space, the ills of capitalism and the gig-economy, individual responsibility to combating the addictively-designed internet, activism and refusal in performance art and philosophy, the myth of productivity, fluid identity in nature, eco-awareness and bio-regionalism, the benefit of decentralized social networks and more. Yet, she pulls off a good story from this abundance.

For me, the best part of reading How to Do Nothing was the references. It is well-researched! Every topic Jenny discusses is garnished with stories of philosophers, artists, curators, writers e.t.c. that, in one way or another, have refused existing systems or directed their attention unconventionally. The references do a great job of animating the book.

On multiple occasions, she acknowledges that finding the ideas in the book practical requires a certain amount of systemic, economic or political privilege. And that’s okay.

The book is an all-you-can-eat buffet of interesting ideas, the over-aching theme being to devote our attention to things other than the fulfilment of capitalism; to be present in the physical world. If you happen to like the menu, you’re sure to leave with a stomach-full.

I had a dream where the women I’ve loved in the past few years stood together to take a picture. 😍

We were in a backyard, and I know this because we literally walked there. To get there, we walked through a long pathway decorated on both sides by stacked cages of barking dogs. The dogs belonged to the neighbours, I guess.

We were there to check out some unused space. It wasn’t any more a boys’ quarters than it was a flat. It was small, yet it was large. You could go down and you could climb back up. It was empty, abandoned and dirty.

There with us was a builder promising to clean it up — tiles, coverings, polishing. I took a video of everything he said to hold against him, for when he eventually disappointed me.

I don’t remember what the builder looked like, but I remember walking upstairs and seeing the ladies clustered. They were standing in the perfect spot for a picture. So I rushed over to ask them to pose.

📸

The picture was beautiful! They all looked fine as hell and were perfectly interspaced like in a magazine spread. A notification comes in but I dismiss it. More pictures!

Portrait 📸

Landscape 📸

Crouch 📸

Bend 📸

Twist 📸

When I’m finally satisfied, I walk over to show them. I unlock my phone, open my gallery and that’s when I realize it. The notification from before was a low memory warning. None of the pictures actually saved.

When I woke up, I picked up my phone to check, just in case. It was dead.

And some days, I feel everything.

One popular type is the false positive paradox, where there’s a higher chance that an assumption is wrong because of a low incidence rate in the population. I’ll adapt one of Wikipedia’s examples:

Imagine that the population of Lagos was 1000 people, and 40% of us are mad. Also imagine that the madness test has false positive rate of 5% (0.05) and no false negative rate.

If we all take the test and your results come back positive (hooray, you’re mad), should you accept your fate? No! A 5% false positive rate means 5% of the time, the test results say someone is mad when they actually are not.

But how much does this matter?

We know that 400 people are mad and will get a positive result. That leaves 600 people who are not mad. However, of these 600 people, 5% will be told they’re mad when they’re not. That’s 30 people.

There’s hope, as you can see. Even if the test results say you are, there’s a slim (30:400 ~ 7%) chance that you’re not actually mad. Whew!

This chance is greatly amplified when there’s a low incidence rate in the population. Let’s switch the example up:

Imagine that the population of Lagos was 1000 people, and 2% of us are wise. In this case as well, imagine that the wisdom test has false positive rate of 5% (0.05) and no false negative rate.

If we all take the test and your results come back positive (hooray, you’re wise), should you rejoice in your wisdom? No! If you’re truly wise, you’ll seriously consider that 5% of the time, the test results are wrong.

We know that 20 people (2% of 1000) are wise and will get a positive result. This leaves us with 980 unwise people. Of these people, 5% will be wrongly told they’re wise. That’s 49 people!

More people (49) will be wrongly told that they’re wise than the actual number of wise people (20). So, if the test says you’re wise, there’s a (49:20 ~ 71%) chance that you’re not!

Context, people.

It often feels like I’m controlling my life and it’s happening to me at the same time. I guess beauty is in finding the balance.

This year, I picked up F1 and tennis, went to book clubs, moisturized 10x, learned to sit better in public, got a little better at mixing drinks, bought a new car—that was all me. But dealing with the status and inferiority complex from blending into a social class—that was life.

When I look at all the things I picked up this year, I can’t tell if I chose those things because my social class changed, or if I chose them to change my social class. Either way, the people I spent most of my time with this year come from much wealthier families than those I grew up with.

Picking up new sports, going to Ikoyi book clubs, learning how to cross my legs when I sit or how to properly blow my nose in public may have well been me just trying to catch up to the people I now find myself around. But let’s just say my interests have changed.

I bought a luxury sports car this year, and I did it was because I wanted a nice looking, fast, comfortable car. I wished for it and somehow the stars aligned and I could afford to buy it, so I did.

Although there was no change in my income (actually, I struggled to balance my finances for six months after), owning the car made me a “rich guy”. And that was it. For the first time ever, I was confronted with being a “successful person” everywhere.

There’s the inability to be invisible on the road, the chants of oga every time you park, the weirdness of greeting people from inside your car because you can feel them shrink, the places you don’t want to drive to because of stares, the people who are willing (or afraid) to talk to you because, from a distance, you look like you came from wealth.

I like to pretend that I don’t care, but I’m so conscious of class. I hate it and I’m working to fix it, but I often find myself evaluating my position in the hierarchy of people when I’m in a crowd. Like, do I belong here?

Recently, at a party, I walked in, realized how cool everyone looked, and froze. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone and so I sat in a corner all by myself. Thankfully, I was high, so I chalked it up to that. But that was a genuinely weird experience for me.

I try not to take class too seriously, but I’m also very conscious of how I react to it. Going through this year made it more important that I perform class consciously. I want to know what I appear to be and, as much as possible, reconcile it with who I am.

This year, I moved up something and I felt it.

At the beginning of every school session, when I was about to leave the house, my dad always gave me the same advice: Don’t join bad gangs, remember the son of who you are. He must have struggled with goodbyes.

My parents raised us to be respectful, good, religious and better than them. This meant the best education they could afford, plus “tough” love and a whole lot of church to keep us focused. But every time they sent us to school, there was always the risk of losing us to the big world of bad gangs.

And lose me, they did.

Many Nigerian families I know are like mine: conservative, with closed cultural and religious values. Yoruba parents think every other group is a red flag. Christian parents think everything is a sin. My parents weren’t overly strict, but they were conservative enough that once I changed my values, it created a rift between us and even my siblings.

I vaguely remember enjoying a lot of religious things as a child; but from my first term in boarding school, I started to change. I saw, for the first time, that the world was bigger. There were more songs than Christian songs; other books than the Bible and Left Behind; there was porn! Problem is, these things are the “bad gangs” you’re supposed to avoid and so I couldn’t take them home with me. Every holiday, when I went back home, I pretty much left myself in school. Eventually, I even stopped wanting to go back.

We’re all products of our experiences, and so are my parents. I don’t have a lot of context into why they’re this way or why they chose religion as the cultural glue for their family, but it wasn’t the best choice. There was no room for anything else that conflicted with Jesus.

My parents did a good job of giving me a better, fuller life (which is why I can be critiquing their life choices now), but one thing I’ve never wrapped my head around is: how do you send a child into the world to get a better life and expect them to come back the same?

Fast forward many years and my family was in this limbo state where my mum was literally the only reason we kept in touch. She forced us to be in touch, but over time it got tiring. I also didn’t want to be pestered into caring for my family either. In an ideal world, I just want to be friends with my family. It wasn’t happening naturally for me because I’d lost the connection. So, this year, I started to try.

Reconnecting our family was definitely off to a tough headstart, not only because of the many years of an unpleasant marriage but also because Jesus was the glue and someone threw it away. In the end, what matters most is to be present. I forced myself to remember, to call, to reply Whatsapp messages, to be available, to create new shared experiences. After a while, it stops feeling forced.

I think it’s a misconception that a family is a special group of people with whom you’re supposed to have a magical connection. As with every relationship, it never gets better by wishing it was different. It only does by putting in the work.

More often these days, I unburden my parents, my brother and I talk about life plans, my sister and I talk about stuff, we have regular family retreats, we do lunch. We’re better friends now.

My family is still closed out to the details of my life, but that’s okay. There’s a new connection to nurture and that’s what matters. Ope still doesn’t go to church, but now he remembers to set up lunch. At least, that’s a good start.

You know… there’s really nothing like seeing your friend’s name on a book, let alone two. I’m so proud of Timi and Tomiwa!

The Little Bitcoin Book is an adventure to a future where the money we use is created and maintained by individuals, not governments. It paints a picture of why Bitcoin is — or at least can be — the future of money.

Money

What is money? Money is a medium of exchange that enables people to trade value. Think of it this way: if you have a valuable skill or property, you can convert it to money and then use the money to exchange for another person’s valuable skill or property.

Say… you create value by planting yams and I create value by building houses. If you wanted me to build you a farmhouse, it may be really difficult to estimate how many yams that’ll cost. And maybe I’m allergic to yams, so I don’t even want yams.

What we can do is to use a scarce, trusted and valued commodity, like gold, to do the exchange. You exchange some of your yams for gold and offer me some for my house-building skills. In changing your yams to gold, you’ve used gold as a store of value, and in listing my price in gold, I’ve used it as a unit of account.

This is a really dumbed down version of how money works.

In the past, we used natural resources like cowries, salt, copper and gold as money. They were effective because they were rare and, at the time, difficult to produce. Take gold for example: you mostly can’t find it lying around and you have to put in significant work to mine it. The scarcity of deposits, the effort required to mine it and demand for its lustre and density make it great as money.

But over time, rare natural resources lost efficacy as money. Some, like salt, became easier to produce with new technology. Others, particularly rare metals, were really uncomfortable for large transactions, being very heavy¹ and insecure to carry around.

Between 618 and 907 C.E., a money revolution took place in China². During the Tang dynasty, considered to be a highlight of Chinese civilization, merchants figured out a more efficient way to trade.

They’d deposit their coins with a trusted source and, in turn, get a promissory note (a paper receipt) basically saying:

I own this amount in coins.

• Signed, Trusted Source

This paper receipt was not just tons lighter but also much safer for transactions. As long as all parties involved trusted the source, the paper receipt was just as valuable as physical money.

This early use of paper money continued to flourish in China over the next few dynasties, so much so that during the Yuan dynasty, 500 years after Tang, Kublai Khan, the Emperor, made paper money the sole medium of exchange.

When Marco Polo, the Venetian traveller, visited Kublai Khan, he found out about this. He was thoroughly impressed and took this back to Europe from where it spread to the rest of the world.

In Chapter 24 of The Travels of Marco Polo³, he writes so excitedly:

With these pieces of paper, made as I have described, he causes all payments on his own account to be made; and he makes them to pass current universally over all his kingdoms and provinces and territories, and whithersoever his power and sovereignty extends.

And nobody, however important he may think himself, dares to refuse them on pain of death. And indeed everybody takes them readily, for wheresoever a person may go throughout the Great Kaan’s dominions he shall find these pieces of paper current, and shall be able to transact all sales and purchases of goods by means of them just as well as if they were coins of pure gold.

And all the while they are so light that ten bezants’ worth does not weigh one golden bezant.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Fiat Money

Today’s money, in the physical form of paper bills and coins, is known as fiat, Latin for “by decree”. Most countries have their own currency and some share, in what is known as a currency (or monetary) union.

With fiat currencies, paper money evolved from being just a receipt to being money in itself, backed by law. In the early days, people trusted paper money not only because governments said so but also because it was backed up by actual deposits of gold. For example, under the Gold Reserve Act, the US dollar was fixed at $35 per ounce of gold⁴.

In 1914, this started to change, primarily because of World War I. Countries needed more flexibility for their war shopping and many began to use the currencies of other (more powerful) countries for their reserves, instead of gold. The currency of choice was the US dollar.

Eventually, the US and then the world freed fiat money from the dependency on gold. Today, a complex system of economics and trade determines the value of one fiat currency against the other.

Such is the brilliance of humanity.

An institution called a central bank regulates the value of a currency by manipulating the supply — buying, selling, printing. This institution also sets the value of the currency compared to others, its exchange rate. The seed that sprouted in Ancient China has grown into an immense global network of currencies, most dominant of which is still the US dollar⁵.

The preamble so far is supposed to make one point: money is an idea, it can change, and over the centuries, it has, in fact, changed to better meet our needs.

What we know as money today is only an evolutionary outcome.

In a nutshell, The Little Bitcoin book is an introduction to a new type of money: Bitcoin.

Humanity has taken the learnings from our last money innovation and come up with a better solution. But first, what is really wrong with fiat money?

1. Restricted freedom

Because fiat money depends on a formal system of banks, many people across the world, especially women, are economically abused⁶ by spouses and family members who prevent them from opening bank accounts.

Also, governments can always restrict access to fiat money since it’s really their money anyway. An “agreeable” use case for this would be to punish bad actors, but power is bound to be abused. With fiat money, the freedom for well-meaning people to use money or move it across borders can be severely restricted by governments for personal or political reasons.

2. Mismanaged currencies

Sam Ewing describes inflation as “when you pay fifteen dollars for the ten-dollar haircut you used to get for five dollars when you had hair”.

As an economy grows, inflation is bound to happen. Governments need more money to run the economy, so they print more. Creating money from thin air depreciates the value of existing money, because, demand and supply. This classic case of see-finish is why the US dollar, for example, has lost about 97% of its value since 1914.

The role of central banks is to keep this loss of value down to about 2% every year. However, many countries are badly managed and do much more poorly than this. The Naira’s current inflation rate, in comparison, is currently at 18%, and in an extreme case, the Venezuelan Bolivar lost 53,798,500%⁷ of its value between 2016 and 2019, what is known as hyperinflation.

In an increasingly global world, it’s an increasingly bad financial decision to tie your fortunes to a poorly managed fiat currency.

3. Government surveillance

If the cost of using fiat money as cash is the sheer bulk of it, the cost of using it in digital form is privacy. Fiat money today has ushered in new levels of government surveillance. It’s great that you can pay for the train with your card, but now the government knows everywhere you go.

The world is pushing for cashless societies, but the advantages of a cashless society⁸ like reduced cost and economic data come with big problems of government surveillance. In fact, there are entire websites dedicated to making the case for why cash matters.

Bitcoin

So, how do we move forward from fiat money?

We take its best parts—ease, speed of transactions, trustworthiness and security, and combine it with features like privacy, fixed supply and decentralization.

In other words, we invent Bitcoin.

Bitcoin is like gold, but instead of mineral deposits scattered across the world, the resource here is rare numbers. Yes, mathematics.

Bitcoin miners invest in powerful computers that can compute these rare numbers. The reward for doing this work is bitcoins. So, much like gold again, all bitcoins start out as the property of miners.

Bitcoin is based on complicated cryptography, invented in 2008 by an unknown person or group called Satoshi Nakomoto. It isn’t the only type of digital currency—and in fact, there are more than 6,000 of them today—but it most suitably meets the economic preconditions of money:

Store of Value

This the most popular Bitcoin use case today. Millions of people all over the world today have bitcoins stored either on the internet in digital wallets or on physical flash drives, which is known as cold storage.

Medium of Exchange

This is the most impactful feature of Bitcoin because it allows cross-border money exchange as never seen before. Bitcoin is a truly global currency because it isn’t tied to any country. You can carry your bitcoins anywhere in the world and the value remains the same.

You can transfer bitcoins between countries in mere minutes(!), and multiple Bitcoin exchanges let you change it into fiat currency for daily spending. Consumer products like Buycoins and Cash App have also created pleasant product experiences for sending and receiving bitcoins.

Unit of Account

This is the least successful money function of Bitcoin today.

For Bitcoin to truly replace money, it needs to also be usable for daily spending. A handful of popular companies like Wikipedia and Microsoft accept bitcoin payments⁹, but most people will change their Bitcoins to fiat currencies before spending.

So, yes Bitcoin is money, but does it solve the problems of fiat money? The Little Bitcoin Book says yes, yes it does!

Freedom

Bitcoin can be created anywhere in the world given sufficient computing resources. It relies on a network of people to function and as such is not controlled by any government.

This lack of central control means that individuals with bitcoins have complete ownership of their money. The book gives an example of Roya Mahboob, CEO and president of the Digital Citizen Fund, who, in 2014, started paying female employees in Bitcoin.

Inflation

Bitcoin has a monetary policy written in code—only 21 million can be created, ever. This finite supply means that Bitcoin is immune to government-induced inflation.

This, however, presents its own economic conundrum: what happens when all the Bitcoins are mined? This is an active subject of debate.

Privacy

Bitcoin is a very interesting technology. Although all transactions are publicly recorded, you don’t need any personally identifiable information to participate.

This provides a level of anonymity (pseudonymity) above digitized fiat money. Plus, new technologies like the Lightning Network are being actively engineered to provide true privacy for transactions.

There’s a lot more about Bitcoin that’s explained in The Little Bitcoin Book, and you should get one for yourself, but here’s my takeaway:

• Bitcoin is an incredible technology, and whether it eventually replaces fiat money or compliments it as it does today, it is a successful model for what money can be.
• Although in theory, anyone in the world can create Bitcoin, in reality, it is dominated by men¹⁰ and organizations with massive computing power. Even so, it is undoubtedly more participatory than government money. It is maybe the most significant democratic invention since the USA.
• Bitcoin is very young and should be treated as a model to be continually improved. In comparison, although the basic form of the Internet (ARPANET) was created in October 1969¹¹, the Internet didn’t become global until the 1990s.
• There are several thousand other cryptocurrencies that serve various functions, but Bitcoin uniquely has the sweet combination of features that makes it a plausible model for universal, decentralized money.
• The fluctuating price of Bitcoin today is a function of user behaviour and not the technology in itself. More people are HODLing the currency for short-term investments than are spending it as money.
• Another big hurdle for Bitcoin to solve is accessibility. It is still very confusing to people who aren’t technology literate, and even worse for the handicapped¹². Personally, I can’t wait to see how Bitcoin evolves over the next couple of years, but now I’m truly now invested in it as the future money and less as a money-making scheme.

Long live Bitcoin, and thank you, Timi and friends!

Buy The Little Bitcoin Book: https://www.amazon.com/Little-Bitcoin-Book-Matters-Finances-ebook/dp/B07W957N7T

References

¹ How heavy is gold? (Quora)

² The First Paper Money (Time)

³ The Travels of Marco Polo (Wikisource)

⁴ Gold Standard (Investopedia)

⁵ How the US dollar became the world’s reserve currency (Investopedia)

⁶ Economic Abuse (Wikipedia)

⁷ BCV Hyperinflation (Venezuela al Dia)

⁸ Cashless Society (Wikipedia)

⁹ Who accepts Bitcoins in 2020

¹⁰ Only 8.5% of Bitcoin traders are women (Bitcoin.com)

¹¹ Internet Timeline (Finding Ctrl)

¹² Bitcoin should be accessible to the visually impaired (Coindesk)

It’s less “oh I want to die” and more “hmm I’m going to die”.

When I think of what happens after death, I hit a void. It’s like a mental black hole where there are no answers — no before, no after.

These days, I think of it as a surprise.

Sometimes I imagine the tweets that’ll be shared about me when I die: the stories of “the life I was on track to have” if I die “early”, and (maybe) the tribute to “the life I had” if I live long enough. Everything I’ve spent my life on would immediately mean a lot more to people whose worlds intersected with mine. It’s heartwarming and funny at the same time.

I don’t know if I care much when or how I die. Unless I take my own life, I have no say in the matter. I do hope that it’s not painful though; and if it is, I hope death frees me from the pain.

While trying to write this, I spent some time on the internet reading other people’s notes on death. There’s so much advice—mostly legal or religious—on how to prepare for death. So stressful.

But there’s other interesting stuff, like the essays of dead philosophers. I stumbled on Michel de Montaigne, a philosopher who lived during the French Rennaisance (1533–1592) and wrote about death as something to constantly think about. (Talk about confirmation bias, right!)

For example, here’s a popular quote of his:

To begin depriving death of its greatest advantage over us, let us adopt a way contrary to that common one; let us deprive death of its strangeness, let us frequent it, let us get used to it; let us have nothing more in mind than death…We do not know where death awaits us: so let us wait for it everywhere.

It’s common knowledge that èèyán lè kú any focking time. But it takes a lot of conscious effort to actually live like you’re going to die.

Life is like a crowded club.

You don’t walk into this club; you get in somehow.

Some people end up in VIP; some on the dance floor; some on stage; some in the restroom. No one gets to choose where they end up, but wherever you are in the club, there’s usually some music to dance to.

Death is like leaving the club.

Some don’t like the club—too crowded, too hot—so they walk out on their own terms. Others—most people, get bounced.

Whichever way you go, everyone must leave the club.

Some people have danced enough, so they’re happy to leave anyway. Some are cheered on as they leave. Some laugh at the bouncers as they walk out. Some are gently shoved out. Some are dragged out wailing.

In your corner of the club, you watch the bouncers work. They huff and puff in their all-black clothes, escorting people out. Some are nice and will give you more time if you ask right; others are mean and don’t care to listen.

There are no windows and no one has any idea what happens when you get kicked out. There are whispers in certain circles, but no one really knows. The only thing we know for sure is that, eventually, a bouncer will come for every one of us.

I want to leave the club sweating.

If I die soon, I only have one request: move everything on my iCloud to a public website — ope wuz ere dot com.

And if I’ve still not completed my website by then, I hope someone is kind enough to finish it for me.

Okay… two requests.

𝟚 One big problem with the self-taught school is that very often, it closes too early. A lot of us stop learning once we know enough to do the work.

𝟛 e.g. at some point, I considered myself a “Javascript developer”, but that was never true. I hadn’t spent enough time learning Javascript—the scripting language itself. I knew how to build functional apps with some fundamental Javascript and the Angular framework, but that was it.

𝟜 I want to try out a formal process for learning new skills: read some history, understand the core concepts, structure the learning, regularly test for progress, participate in conversations, contribute to it.

𝟝 Long and short is: my self-taught school is going academic.

🔔 grin grin

Now that I’ve now read it, I’m both pleased and sad; pleased because now I know some African systems of writing; sad because I fear that they may never come to practical use in my lifetime.

But! I’ve learnt so much, though. I’m enlightened and optimistic. People all over the continent have been doing important work for centuries, and I’m so glad to finally be catching up.

Saki Mafundikwa

Saki, the writer of this book, is a Zimbabwean graphic designer and typographer who lived abroad and then returned home in 1997 to start a design practice called Ziva (Zimbabwean Institute of Vigital Arts).

In 2004, after 20 years of research and travel, he published Afrikan Alphabets. It’s crazy that, up until this book, I’d never heard of Saki (and I can’t find an online archive of his work either).

I’ve pieced together a little of his person from interviews and videos—he’s very good at telling stories, intentional about Africa and takes sustainability very seriously.

I really respect the effort that went into this book, and I definitely want to visit Zimbabwe to experience more of his work in person.

One of the “controversial” things about him, by the way, is that he spells Africa as Afrika. He does this because that’s how African languages tend to pronounce it— k. And honestly, it makes sense to me. The Yorùbá alphabet, for example, doesn’t even have a c.

The Living Scripts of Africa

I can’t count how many times I’ve been in conversations where we bemoan the lack of written history in Africa (specifically Sub-Saharan Africa, since ancient Egypt is known for pioneering writing). The most important thing I wanted from this book then was to learn about this history.

I got more than just that. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that not only did we have written systems of communication, but some are actively used today. (I wonder why I never looked this up on the internet.) They’re not widely adopted but they’re alive.

Take the Berber script, for example:

In 2003, the ancient Berber script used to write Tifinagh, the language of the Tuaregs, was adopted over both Roman and Arabic alphabets by the administrative council of the Royal Institute for Amazigh Culture to teach Amazigh in Morocco.

http://www.anotherafrica.net/art-culture/typography-language-writing-systems-afrikan-alphabets

The Amazigh are indigenous people of North Africa who have lived in the region for thousands of years. They’re an ethnic group, similar to Igbo or Hausas in Nigeria. Neo-Tifinagh, the modern fully alphabetic script developed from earlier forms of Tifinagh is used officially in signage and communication.

As the Atlas of Endangered Alphabets puts it, “Tifinagh is an illustration of the ability of a written language to survive utterly everything: political and military threat, social and cultural change, wind, weather, the biting sands of the Sahara”.

Another living writing system is the Bamum Script, created for the Bamum/Shü-mom language in the early 1900s by King Njoya of Cameroon, who was 25 years old at the time.

The Bamum script is a syllabary, which means the characters represent sounds (a, ka, u, ku…) instead of single letters (a, b, c…). It was developed over a number of years (the book says 30 but Wikipedia says 14) and the final script has 83 characters: 10 numbers and 73 syllables.

This guy was so impressive. He designed a pharmacopoeia (drug dictionary), calendars and maps. He kept records and legal codes, and even wrote a Kama Sutra-like book! He did this with fellow royals, including his artistic cousin (and namesake) Ibrahim Njoya.

Not surprisingly, colonization fucked it all up. In spite of this, the Bamum script is still being taught at King Njoya’s old palace today. I hope to see this for myself sometime.

Pictorial History

I was overjoyed to learn about these living writing systems, but it was also amazing to learn about historical ones, from popular ones like Nsibidi, Adinkra and Bantu to lesser-known ones like the Ethiopic script and the Mande syllabaries of West Africa (Guinea, Côte d’Ivoire, Liberia and Mali).

A lot of the other scripts don’t technically qualify as writing systems, even if we decided to recreate them digitally, but they can still be very useful as relics of the past and inspiration for art. Adinkra, for example, is heavily used in Ghanaian graphic design.

Forward Motion

There are still ongoing attempts to create a practical African writing system although many languages have settled for a slightly modified Latin alphabet.

Some of the contemporary alphabets I learnt about in the book include the Wolofal, N’ko and Fula alphabets and I personally know a few Nigerian experiments with typography too. Two of them are based on the Latin alphabet:

• Danfo Std, by Dá Design (and currently on exhibition at the Venice Bienalle!)

• Syringe, by Karo Akpokiere And two are complete writing systems:

• Pan-Nigeria, by Victor Manfredi
• Ndebe, and experimental typeface by Sugabelly based on Nsibidi I’m genuinely happy I found this book. Although I’ve written this review, I’m not done reading it. It’s the kind of book you consult over and over again for different things: historical typography, graphic design, interesting travel destinations and even tattoos, lol. It will also come in useful if I ever decide to properly learn any of these writing systems.

At the very least, now I can confidently discuss the writing systems of Africa; and in fact, at least two of them still exist today.

I recommend:

• http://www.anotherafrica.net/art-culture/typography-language-writing-systems-afrikan-alphabets
• https://www.endangeredalphabets.net/alphabets/tifinagh/ I bought the book for $80 from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Afrikan-Alphabets-Story-Writing-Afrika

Hits blunt…

I think four things need to happen for me to do anything with high quality:

• I’m exposed to what good quality looks like.
• I understand the details of what I’m doing.
• I can afford to spend resources e.g. time, money on it.
• There’s an incentive for spending resources on it. Each one is a precondition for the next, which means I’m more likely to do something with quality if I have ⓵ and ⓶ than if I have ⓷ and ⓸.

The most quality thing in my life right now is my design work and I think it improved a lot because all four requirements aligned.

• ✅ I’ve always been inspired by great work from all over the world. I can sniff out good work from a continent away.
• ✅ I started reading a lot of fundamentals and it has helped to improve my understanding and articulation of design.
• ✅ I’m paid quite well and can work remotely and flexibly. No unreasonable deadlines are ever imposed on me.
• ✅ I get both the dopamine hit of creating beautiful things and the reputational, financial, e.t.c. rewards of being recognized as someone who does quality work. This simple analogy is how I understand why my UX work today is better than my commercial graphic design work from 2010 till 2014. When I practised graphic design I didn’t have a great ⓵ and ⓶, so I could never have exceeded a certain quality bar. Although I spent a lot of time on work ⓷ and was naturally incentivized to get better because of my obsessive nature ⓸, that wasn’t enough. I just didn’t know enough to do any better.

I like to also extend this thought process to other people. For example, I believe the average Lagos person drives really badly because they don’t have any of the four preconditions, as in:

• ❌ Roads are generally bad, signs are very inconsistent and virtually everyone else on the road drives unpredictably.
• ❌ Many drivers genuinely have no concept of lanes, road signs, right of way, e.t.c. Even when you go to a driving school, it’s easy to forget if you never get to use the knowledge.
• ❌ Many drivers can’t afford the education or standard of living necessary to realize that creating new lanes, for example, isn’t sharp. They’re saving a little personal time by flouting the rules but adding to the larger traffic situation.
• ❌ There’s no incentive to drive well since there’s hardly any punishment for driving badly. 100% of Lagos drivers will drive badly at some point. Even if you have a good understanding of how roads work ⓶, are patient ⓷, and want to drive well for personal reasons ⓸, without a quality driving environment ⓵, you will drive nonsense.

With roads, not much can be done personally to change the environment, but with other things, there definitely is.

In the past few years, I’ve been exposed to more quality than ever: cities at the bleeding edge of human progress, organizations that run at the highest level of human efficiency, friends who care how things were made before buying them, coworkers who will break their backs to deliver good service, e.t.c.

All of this has taken a positive toll on my character and now I’m obsessed with keeping everything about me high-quality. Unfortunately, I also live in a low-quality country where the culture is to put in the barest minimum. To get quality from people, I need to learn what quality means for myself and then teach it. I have to be fully involved, as in:

• When I ask for any work to get done, I make sure to clearly show or describe the expected outcome. In a country where ultramodern means jack shit, it’s safe to assume many people, myself included, don’t know what “well done” looks like for many things.
• I have conversations with people to make sure they understand the fundamentals of what they’re doing. My AC guy, for example, seems genuinely excited to talk to me about the technical details of his job. If they can’t articulate what they’re going to do, then I know not to expect much.
• I let people know I’m willing to pay a little more for attention to detail. For example, it may take 30 minutes to plaster a wall Nigerian style but 1 hour to plaster it neatly. I let them know early that they can afford to spend the extra time doing things better.
• In making sure ⓵, ⓶ and ⓷ are sorted, I like to think I’ve done my part. If this person still goes on to do it any less than the expected outcome, then they must either take a pay cut or redo the work. Your incentive is that you’re working for a mad person. I’ve been on this mindset for a few weeks now, and I can already tell that it will be hard. It may even come to define me, but I don’t mind. About a week ago (week ago), I forced myself to drive back to a restaurant to replace stale food. Normally I’d just throw the food away, but new me needed them to know and fix it. I’ve been converted.

I will do whatever is needed to inspire people to do things a little better, even if just for me. How do I like my things? Well done.

Franz is generally considered a father of American anthropology, and this is one of the early texts that defined the field. It was a really good book and in a few points, here’s what I learnt.

1. Anthropology is the study of us

I used to confuse anthropology with anatomy, but not anymore. Sure, both fields study people, but anthropology is much broader. It’s the study of people in our human groups. As a friend put it, “Anthropology is the study of human lives to understand humans.”

It’s a social science that uses the knowledge from other fields like anatomy, biology, psychology and genetics to understand the evolution of culture, language and human societies in general. It branches out into four fields: biological and cultural anthropology, linguistics and archaeology.

2. Race is a social construct

Two chapters of this book are dedicated to correcting misconceptions about race. It must have been very controversial back in 1928 when it was first released. Race is not a scientific classification and black/coloured people are not an inferior group? Radical.

Race is a classification based on physical variations like skin colour, hair texture, facial features and physical build. But in every one of the races, there are similar variations of people: short and tall, blue and brown eyes, idiots, plebeians and geniuses. Admittedly, we find a higher distribution of certain types of people in certain races, but this is not an inherited property of the group.

3. Multiple factors contribute to a person’s form and capacity

Okay, let’s throw race into the trash. But what about the evident physical differences across the world? How did that come about?

Some of this is ascribed to evolution and human adaptation over the years; for example, how narrower noses are adapted to colder climates. As humans migrated over the world, our bodies changed to better adapt to the differing environments. This adaptation is passed down from parent to child: heredity is based on family lines.

There’s also a huge part of development that’s dependent on the environment. Many people who grow up in more favourable conditions tend to generally have better physical and mental capacity. But once again, this is not an inherited property of the group, and anyone can be an exception.

4. Blame closed group mentality for racism

Even if we’re clear that there’s no biological basis to “x group of people is superior to y group”, this doesn’t remove the current reality of racism. Why do people believe in racial superiority anyway?

After discounting innate animal antipathy, Franz settles on closed group mentality. When humans were wild and scattered in small groups across the world, we hated and killed strangers in self-preservation. Some of that behaviour persists. I don’t fully accept this explanation, but I understand it.

In closed groups, people are taught to adulate a certain way of being and to be repulsed by anything else. For example, if you’re taught to eat with utensils, seeing others eat with their hands can feel genuinely “disgusting”, or if you’re brought up in a moralistic society, any form of body-baring can trigger an automatic reaction like hatred.

If we combine intense cultural differences with the innate need to self-preserve, it’s maybe easy to see how the desire for racial hegemony emerges.

5. Nationalism is dead; long live nationalism

In modern times, the prevalent grouping of people other than by race is by nationality. Nationalism is often considered solely politically (allegiance to the State), but it has a cultural definition. As Boaz puts it, “Neither the bonds of blood nor those of language alone make a nationality. It is rather the community of emotional life that rises from our everyday habits, from the forms of thoughts, feelings, and actions which constitute the medium in which every individual can unfold freely his activities”.

Nations are political inventions to make the most of human capacity. Humans started out thinly scattered, but through peace and war, we’ve increased our group sizes gradually, from hordes to tribes and from states to nations. We do things better when we bring together different ways of thinking.

By definition, a nation is made up of many cultural units, and so the idea of nationalism shouldn’t be restricted to political allegiance to the State. We shouldn’t suppress our cultural differences or aim to create a homogenous culture. Different cultures can express themselves independently while participating in the political unit.

6. Even good eugenics is tricky

Eugenics is the pursuit of perfect humanity. But there’s no such thing.

There seem to be two camps on this one. First, the bad: people that believe that certain groups (usually theirs) are superior and others should be eliminated or fully imbibed. Think German Holocaust, Chinese Uighurs.

This school of thought was dismissed with point 2 above. Human capacity is complex. It’s based on not just heredity but also the environment we grow up in. No group of people is biologically superior so as to warrant the assimilation of others.

Changing the genes of an unborn child is banned because we don’t fully understand what we’re doing yet, although more than one Chinese scientist has gone on to do it anyway

The other school of eugenics is more humanitarian. Some people are hereditarily unfortunate and are less suited for this environment. They’re born with diseases that make their lives (and the people around them) full of pain. In this case, being able to change our biological composition — through, for example, gene-editing — can help to eliminate this suffering.

The technology has kicked off but no one has a clear idea of how this may come back to haunt us. For now, governments are being very careful to regulate it. Changing the genes of an unborn child is banned in the scientific society because we don’t fully understand what we’re doing yet, although more than one Chinese scientist has gone on to edit an unborn baby anyway.

Gene-editing less regulated for people out of the womb and is already being used to heal rare sicknesses. But who will be able to change what? Franz argues that suffering and pain is part of the human experience. It’s a slippery slope when we change something, he warns:

“While, humanely speaking, this may be a beautiful idea, it is unattainable. Many of the works of sublime beauty are the precious fruits of mental agony; and we should be poor, indeed, if the willingness of man to suffer should disappear. However, if we cultivate this ideal, then that which was discomfort yesterday will be suffering to-day.”

7. Culture is usually passed down as automatic reactions

As Franz describes, cultures become stable over time through the imposition of ways of being and thinking on people. These rules are propagated through what he calls “automatic reactions”. People are taught to do things one way and they, without questioning, also pass it on. Doing things differently is considered an offence to society, punishable by law, ostracization or outright violence.

A truly democratic culture/society, on the other hand, encourages individual independent thought: it allows people to question the ideals they’re asked to hold. Culture is not abstract; it is performed. It’s for the people, not the other way around.

8. Generally, humanity tends towards larger groups

Franz accurately guessed that the next step in the evolution of human groups was the federation of nations e.g. the African and European Unions. Also, with increasing migration, modern cities have become very cross-cultural.

In this information age, we’ve gone one step ahead. The internet today is as close as we’ve ever gotten to a global human society. I can’t help but wonder what Franz would have to say about it.

It’s a notorious joke that white people can’t dance.

This is a false generalization, and it doesn’t matter at parties anyway. From the multiracial ones I’ve been to, I can tell you that white people, whether they can dance or not, don’t hesitate to take up center stage and move, however they can.

Too many black people are reluctant to take up public space this way (for obvious reasons). Usually, people seem to wait for permission to dance; the “vibe” has to be right. In black circles abroad (and home as well), many people don’t dance unless it’s a safe space or a performance with friends.

The freedom of body movement in public spaces isn’t all about dance though. It’s twirling at the restaurant door, jogging lightly across an empty road, playing the air guitar at a train station. It’s all those little movements that kids do because they’re energetic and nobody cares. But usually, as we age, we get too “adult” for this or too conscious of ourselves.

I‘ve always been restless; quirky movements and public dancing are right up my alley. But between an improving social status, the public unease of being black in Europe and America and the burdensome behavioural expectations of a Nigerian adult male, it no longer feels natural or easy to be weird in public. It takes more of a mental effort these days.

So, this essay is a pat on the back, a reminder to myself to always move my body when I want to, however weird and uncomfortable I might feel at first. Because I always end up feeling great, happy and free.

Earlier this year, I rocked with a 45-year old lady in an Amsterdam club, and she was agile! The festivals I attended this year were littered with so many older white people moving and vibing. This is how we should all age, right?

Well, that’s how I want to, and I’ve distilled this into a life principle: I’m free to take up space for myself, on the street, in the airport or on the dance floor. I play in public; I move like a kid sometimes; I jump when the song says jump.

Here’s a list of things that I want to read and learn about. If you find anything out in the wild on these topics, send a DM to me on Twitter or email me at ope@wuruwuru.com, thanks!

Nigerian Graphic Design History

I just finished an introductory course on Graphic Design History but there’s nothing about the black continent, regrettably. I’m very! curious about what the history of Graphic design in Nigeria is, before and during the colonial era. Looking at broader African graphic design history, Grapheine’s African Design is really the best curation of content I’ve found. As far as my country though, the best thing collection I’ve seen yet is this Pinterest collection of Nigerian graphic design (and it inspired my collection of African design), but I want more!

Typography and Printing

I was born into a world of accessible typography, with the downside being that we take the written word for granted. Learning about the evolution of writing and print and the role of printers in shaping modern knowledge has helped me to recognize typography as the amazing human invention that it is. I even plan to spend some time in Somolu printing shops this year*.

*I did not

Civic Participation

I recently watched 120 battement par minute, a moving drama about the Act Up movement in Paris when the AIDS crisis was really bad. The quality of debate I saw in this movie made me realize how pale my civic/intellectual life is in comparison. I passively follow a few civic projects in Nigeria (Budgit, Tracka, CCHub), but that’s about it. A recent MIT Review essay about vTaiwan’s role in resolving a few governmental debates pinched me. The responsibility is on me, so I’m going to actively try to participate more, but if you learn about something that’s right up my alley, feel free to recommend.

I will also love! an opportunity to be in debates. I tried to host one but it didn’t really work out; we ended up just playing games. If you host a debate and don’t invite me you’re cancelled.

Archiving

I‘ve been talking a lot about doing interactive work recently, but I’m yet to actually show anything. This July, I promise*. But anyway, I have a new life goal: I want to collect data. We moan a lot about the lack of documentation in this part of the world, but even now, with the internet, we’re not doing so much better. Try a search for just about anything Nigerian and see for yourself. Maybe Wuruwuru will ultimately become an archive of accessible data from our time, who knows? For now, I’m keeping it on my radar.

*and failed

I am obsessed with the creative output of my generation. I’m curious about people “my age” in food, music, design, technology, and everything else. Since The Republic announced print editions, I’ve looked forward to reading what I consider to be an intellectual contribution to the culture.

I use the word “intellectual” to refer to academic, critical thinking, and they agree — on the website, it says:

The Republic, first and foremost, is us: the people of this time. And then, it is a bimonthly magazine of socio-economic and political commentary, criticism and cultural discourse, that explores the world as Nigerian. Behind the magazine is the belief that writing can connect, empower and humanize communities, and a society of people who consider urgent the need for a Nigeria more critical of itself.

This is a review of the first print edition.

As with most magazines, The Republic starts out with the Editor’s Note. Wale Lawal introduces the themes in this edition — race, and identity. It’s clear that the essays will be globally focused as he closes out with a promise to always prioritize the meaningful exchange of information.

The first essay, Nafeesah Allen’s National Belonging and Social Integration, is about identity. It’s a commentary on mixed people in Mozambique, who are as much Africans as any of us dark-skinned people, but often not welcome by either of their nationalities. Because I don’t have a lot of interactions with mixed people or families, I’ve frankly always considered them to be foreigners, never African. This was a necessary mental shift for me.

Aarshin Karande’s I know Why The Mockingbird Sings is about America’s white/black fracture. In the replacement of an Obama presidency with a Trump, the author argues that White America is being reluctant to integrate with Black America, and ponders if such an integration is really feasible? In this conflict of identity, people in-between (like the author, who is South Asian Indian) are often overlooked.

In The Power of Social Media, Cynthia Agodo explains how women in Nigeria have used social media and particularly hashtags to vocalize, educate, and coordinate around feminist issues. The author also touches on intersectionality, in this case pointing out that the struggle is different across socioeconomic classes, and true feminism should cater to these differences. She encourages feminists to go beyond Twitter, as with the Market March movement, and walk the talk.

Speaking of Market March, one interesting thing to me about the movement is the intentional use of graphic design to amplify the message. Political movements have always relied on graphic design and images to speak directly to people, and a good example from the past is illustrated in Emmanuel Onyilofor’s essay Visual Politics in Apartheid South Africa. The author shows how graphic images were instrumental to the emancipation in South Africa during the Apartheid era.

More recently in Nigeria, there’s been a proliferation of Instagram and Twitter accounts that curate Nollywood clips to paint a picture of the modern Nigerian woman: confident, glamorous, and successful. In From Glamour Girls to Nolly babes, Merlin Uwalaka highlights that old Nollywood movies like Glamour Girls created authentic images of the modern Nigerian woman that are being repurposed today to tell a story of female identity in Nigeria.

The other core topic of this journal is racism.

In Uncovering Edinburgh, Henry Dee presents historical accounts of racism at the University of Edinburgh. I guess some people believe that the Scottish institution wasn’t racist, and the author aimed to dispel that. As a first step towards reconciliation, the author implores the school to acknowledge its pioneering black students.

In The Blacker the Berry, Oyinkosola Adepitan uses three books¹ to discuss American racism in some of its post-slavery expressions: sexual violence against black women, the commodification of black women, segregation, the horrors of lynching, and a war on drugs that was really just to re-enslave black people using the prison system. The author highlights that the devaluation of black lives is continual and in dire need of correction.

The focus shifts from the USA to China in The Elephant in the China Shop. Bénédicte Kinkola begins with a timeline of Sino-African relations: first, Zheng He made voyages to East Africa in the 14th century; then, upon the humiliation of China in the Opium wars, Mao Zedong repositioned the country as the “leader of the third world”; now, China has regular brunch with Africa in the form of the forum FOCAC.

Bénédicte argues that in spite of this diplomatic embrace, 1) Chinese people remain racist, 2) if this is truly due to ignorance, Africa needs to build cultural institutions, equivalents of China’s Confucius Language Institutes², to educate the Chinese, 3) African leaders need to put policies in place to make sure the Chinese development of Africa involves Africans, and 4) one way to consummate this China-Africa love is to build multicultural spaces to serve as melding pots. This essay was a personal favorite of mine.

Looking inwards, Moses Ochonu’s essay Racism or Classism is a reminder that classism and colonial mentality can be illustrations of racism. The African elite has maintained the spatial superiority that colonizers built, and today many white-only areas from the colonial era are still the best places to live in. Also, many people in Africa today respect white and foreign-educated people way more than fellow black people. Isn’t black subservience just a mirror image of white supremacy?

When I saw the title “White Extinction, Who Gives a Damn?”, I thought I was going to be reading a really shocking theory of how white people will go extinct. Fortunately, the title is clickbait, and the essay is an attempt to criticize racial relations from a balanced perspective.

In White Extinction, Who Gives a Damn? Jeff Pearce criticizes the weaponization of “privilege” to shut down other — often white — opinions. He argues against viewing all white people as a privileged group and uses himself as an example. The author also tackles white nationalists, criticizing their beliefs that western (white) culture is being diluted. The essay peters out with a kumbaya suggestion that we adopt the African approach of restitution, social harmony, and empathy, rather than rage, to deal with racism.

Eniola Anuoluwapo Soyemi’s Is There No Humanity in Africa? is a collection of stories, each one a situation where the author had to ponder that question. The author is concerned that the Western world is so ignorant about Africa, and the ubiquitous small-mindedness of looking at the entire continent from one flat perspective hurts on a personal level.

I think Africa’s devaluation continues from the devaluation of black people — it’s a “black continent” after all. When I think about it, I think we have this problem internally as well. In my conversations, I’ve come to believe many Nigerians have a really shitty and small-minded perspective of the rest of the continent.

And now to the culture!

Yaa Addae’s short article is a review of Odunsi the Engine’s most recent album, rare. Yaa is convincing: the album is well-done Afro-fusion, a refreshing result of the musical influence of the internet. A lot of pioneering African music, including Fela’s Afrobeat, were created similarly. Experimentation is very necessary for evolution.

The final essay is Adekeye Adebajo’s Black Orpheus and the Organic Intellectual, a tribute to two really cool people I’m hearing about for the first time. Abiola Irele and Raufu Mustapha were Nigerian scholars (and polyglots) who made important contributions to the intellectual discourse about the country and continent. My favorite part of this essay was learning about Negritude, a Pan-African idea of “Black consciousness” theorized by Francophone scholars in the 1930s.

Of course, I can’t review the magazine without talking about the design of it.

The first thing to probably mention is the quality of the print itself, which is quite well done. I showed the magazine to a friend OD, who’s a paper/print enthusiast, and her reply was “It’s good, but I wish it was matte”. Me too. The Republic reads as very academic, but it doesn’t feel like it because of the glossy print.

The Republic also has very minimal graphic design, possibly because, you know, academic. Page headings are set in ITC Anna (a font designed by Daniel Pelavin for his wedding), essays are set in Adobe Caslon, and Proxima Nova is occasionally used for smaller titles. Bebas Neue is a big part of their online branding, but interestingly it only shows up on the spine in print.

The writing and editing in this edition are great and I wish similar attention to detail was spared for visual flourish. The graphic design is generally mediocre, and you can find proof of this in the boring typographic compositions, poorly cropped images, odd callouts with an oversized logo, and occasionally inconsistent kerning and spacing.

To be clear, the design is okay. I just wish it was better. Over and over again, I’ve seen examples of primarily typographic publications done elegantly, and I really wish this was one of them. Two highlights though, graphically, were the feature illustrations and the map of Lagos on the back.

All things considered, I had a good time reading this. I picked up more than a few new ideas and learned about really important people. I have the second edition in print as well, so I’m looking forward to it being even better than this one.

Footnotes

¹ At the Dark End of the Street: Black Women, Rape, and Resistance by Danielle McGuire; Democracy Abroad, Lynching at Home: Racial Violence in Florida by Tameka Bradley Hobbs; and From the War on Poverty to the War on Crime: The Making of Mass Incarceration in America by Elizabeth Hinton.

² There’s a Confucius Institute at the Nnamdi Azikwe University, and according to their website, about 2,500 students have been trained there since 2009.

I studied computer engineering, so I don’t have any formal knowledge of architecture or graphic design. I’ve learned the little I know of both disciplines through magazines, books, and articles on the internet. I love reading about architects, graphic designers and how they approach their practice.

Architecture defines our relationship with the physical space we exist in. In that light, it can be very functional. But it’s also very much an art form because there is immense artistic expression to how buildings look and feel. Graphic design, on the other hand, is the evasive love of my life. I started out as a graphic designer; in retrospect, I was good at collaging not creating. I was never able to create the quality of graphic design work I admire — work that straddles the line between original creativity, good communication, and perfect composition.

The type of design I do now struggles with its personality. I’ve described it before as software design, product design, and even interaction design. These days, I call it user experience design.

We’re one of the youngest crops of designers, a product of the rapid spread and democracy of the internet. While there is a good amount of content that discusses UX design, it’s still very much an informal practice. Many of us still approach our work more like art than design.

In looking to take my craft more seriously, I’ve been exploring its similarities to architecture and graphic design.

UX design and architecture both start out as two-dimensional explorations of space. How should a person interact with a given space? The latter evolves into a physical form—a building, but the former stays two-dimensional.

Compare an online and physical store of your favorite retailer. In both cases, space is converted into an experience involving clothes. The layout of either store is purposefully designed to get you to the goal of eventually buying something. You find them via an address. In both spaces, you navigate through a purposeful layout, aided by graphical elements like typographic signs to achieve this goal.

In UX design though, the outcome is entirely visual. This is where it draws from graphic design. Form has to be communicated visually, and so UX design applies graphic design to communicate how to navigate the space.

Finally, in all three there’s artistic expression involved. Websites and apps aim not just to provide a function or communicate information. Sometimes, the goal is to visually stimulate.

Many times, I feel like I chickened out and went with the easy, unregulated design practice, the one where anyone can be self-proclaimed “world-class” after a few months of tutorials.

But in the end, this drives me to understand my work deeper, reach for high standards, and to pay attention to all the little details. I guess it’s what any other design practice would require of me.

I’m reaching into the history of graphic design and architecture to be able to think about what I do better. It’s too early to say how much this will improve my work. Regardless, learning how we’ve interacted with the world and communicated with one another is knowledge that justifies itself.

So, I’ve finally been to Europe!

Because I was travelling solo, I didn’t have the company for mad flex. Since I was working remotely for a good chunk of my short trip, I knew my chances of making local friends was slim. To be honest, just living in a working system for while was enough for me.

Even though I didn’t do rocks, I made sure to have bespoke experiences. I learned about art movements at the Louvre, and my tour guide was so good that I’ve added art history to the list of my future endeavours. I acquainted with the history and future of BMW at the museum in Munich (heh), I met plenty of old friends between Berlin and Amsterdam and experienced the joy and sadness of emigration in our loud conversations.

In Paris, I found myself in class, yes class. Vadim Grigorian, a smart-sounding arts and marketing success story, talked about his life and principles, and I sat there, attentively following the breadth of the conversation from his partying days and Documenta, to Tao Te Ching and craftsmanship. The friend who smuggled me into this class also took me on long walks and train rides through the city, showed me her favourite waffle place (I gained 2kgs instantly), and introduced me to the wonders of spicy Korean ramen noodles.

This is the limit to which I choose to romanticize that trip because I need to be back there to make local friends and experience the social culture I’ve read so many people describe as phenomenal.

Earlier in the year, I was over at a friend’s house for her family’s New Year party. A small group of us were huddled together around the table and her jolly dad entertained us with whiskey as we took turns answering the question “what are your goals for the year?”.

My answer was circa “new experiences all round: travel, sex, everything”. In retrospect, that was rather vague. So, in Utrecht, I spent about two days doing “comprehensive self-reflection”, exploring what “new experiences” meant for me.

How do I even want to be, and shouldn’t that answer precede the experiences?

If my 2016 self was watching me at that table filling my notebook with scribbles like “do you want to be environmentally conscious?”, it would be so funny, but I daresay this is the best thing I’ve done for myself in a while.

For a few months now I’ve been keeping a document called my Book of Life, a database in Notion with details about my life (because my memory is shit). Those hours of quiet and self-absorbance gave me time to bring it up to date.

I’ve been increasingly looking for meaning: an intentional self, depth in my thinking, craftsmanship in my work, yadda, yadda. I’ve highlighted that what’s important to me now is to:

• build mental models for how to think about the world (basic economics, sociology, art)
• build a great design team on this side of the divide
• maintain a healthy work culture and use “boredom” to my advantage
• not just travel, but experience life in a different culture
• properly learn a new language while I’m at it In that order. All these things take time, money, or both, but no pressure.

For now, I’ve themed my reading, one subject at a time, starting with the evolution of society. I’m paying attention to my moods and setting reminders to go out so I don’t get antisocial after sitting at home for too long. I’m actively looking out for interesting dialogue, playing games, queuing up classic movies to watch and hacking my way through Game of Thrones by reading wikis and watching recaps (my friends are mad jealous).

I’m also spending time building my team at Paystack (will publish something on that soon). I’m thinking of how to grow dialogue on my website, and side projects to build for Wuruwuru. I want to do one on the true cost of rent in Lagos, where I highlight all the things we don’t consider when planning to get an apartment in Lagos. I’ve started on data collection, but I’ve been procrastinating. If you see me, remind me.

Ever since you left the city (haha, I’m sorry), this is what I’ve been up to.

The most recent article Ezra ‘God’ Olubi. wrote on his blog was three freaking years ago. So, my friend, I’m passing the torch on to you; where’s your head at these days?

I live in Yaba and work in Ikeja. The shorter route to the office is through Ikorodu road, but the longer route through the Third Mainland Bridge can sometimes be faster or more enjoyable. This was one of those days I decided to match my car and pass the bridge, but I should probably have checked the traffic before leaving because unfortunately there was some hold up on Ikorodu road, around Ojota.

As I settled into the traffic, I noticed a staple “madman” (I’ve read that this is frequently schizophrenia) weaving through the cars, eating from a disposable plate. Eventually, the traffic eased up a little, and as I drove past him I couldn’t help but notice that the disposable plate he was “eating” from was empty. If you’ve spent enough time in Lagos, you know that this is funny but not too shocking. So I chuckled internally and moved on, or so I thought.

If there’s anything I’ll credit Lagos for, it’s that it can be very exciting. This excitement may come at the detriment of your mental health, but there’s not a dull moment. As I drove past our protagonist, he seemed to drop his empty plate of food and attempt to make contact with my car—almost like he was trying to collide with it. I didn’t pay any mind to it. In fact, I was amused to watch him play it out. But then I caught up with the traffic and looked in my side mirror only to see him pick up a stone and start sprinting for my car.

Fuck.

“Is fighting a madman on the road great optics?”

“What if he goes for the windshield?”

“If he breaks the windshield, what can I even do to him? He’s already crazy.”

“My side mirror had cost a lot to fix earlier, wouldn’t the windshield be worse?”

“Even if insurance pays, how long will it take to ship a proper windshield?”

“What if he hits and runs, do I come down to chase him?”

The 10 or so seconds it took for the man to sprint to my car felt like days. I was scared shitless contemplating questions. I quickly decided to be proactive, so I took out a 500 naira note and rolled down my window, attempting to guide him to come to me first before going with the stone option. It worked!

You’re lucky that I understand that you’re hungry. Don’t ever try this with anyone again!

As he moved beside my door, he started wailing, dramatically showing me the—still empty—plate and complaining that I toppled his breakfast! By this time, the other commuters on the road were tuned in to our show, eager to see how this contest between the mad man and the rich man would pan out.

With all the courage I could muster I scolded the man, asking him questions like what he planned to do with the stone. He started playing the abashed part, and I completed the play by saying “You’re lucky that I understand that you’re hungry. Don’t ever try this with anyone again!”. Honestly, what I wanted to say was “Thank you for being reasonable”.

I gave him the money and he left me alone, and as I watched people in their cars refocus on the road seemingly disappointed that the match ended so prematurely, I acquainted with the results. This was a knockout, and evidently, I did not win.

Where it started

All four previous versions of my website have been simple HTML files. It usually goes this way: I get bored during some free time and the brilliant idea to upgrade my website pops up. I start building and designing simultaneously, wrap it up in some hours and then publish, future edits to be done directly from Github. This iteration is a deviation from that trend.

This time, I started designing by writing. That’s an approach I’ve been meddling with recently. By writing, I force myself to confront important design and implementation decisions very early. It also makes it such that by the time I’m done with building, writing is no longer a chore. So far it’s been such a great decision.

When this was done, I moved on to sketching as a way to affirm those ideas. Ideation was never completely done though, as I kept tweaking the structure until the very end of the project.

Look and Feel

My approach to visual design is rapid iteration. I rarely have an original idea fully fleshed out in my head. Instead, I start from somewhere — anywhere — and tweak continuously until it’s satisfactory. I start with a basic idea of what the layout will be like and then I continue in code, but I want to be more detailed with my work, so this time I took the time to fully flesh out my ideas first.

As I thought about what I wanted the website to feel like, I wrote down the words that came to my mind. I decided to go with a simple, colourless, magazine-like visual language inspired by a copy of an ArtX magazine I had laying about in my room. By focusing on my strengths and opting for a minimalist approach, this also meant I could create all the assets for the site by myself.

After sketching was done, I started visual design in Figma. Over the course of about a week, I sketched and designed and refined my ideas.

Building blocks

View the design here: Link to Figma file

By the time I was done with the design, I only had two more days of free time before work would start for the year, so I had to build it in much less time than it took to design.

This version of the website curates links to all my content across the internet, and to make updating it easier I decided to ship with a CMS. I thought about using new tools and strongly considered a headless CMS + static file generator combination. I researched Hugo, installed Ghost + Gatsby, almost tried Twill, but in the long run I decided to go with Jekyll.

The pros of Jekyll for me were:

• clearly the easiest to set up considering my time limitations;
• lightweight structure, no bloat;
• every new post has to be written as code so managing the site feels like more technically engaging.

  Structure

Based on the design, I had two main pages to create

• opemipo.com — landing page with curated information about myself
• wuruwuru.com — curation of my design content (actually served from the same repo) I broke the pages down into components using Jekyll’s includes, and I managed data separately, leveraging on another Jekyll feature data files. Setting up the site this way will allow me easily change the design without having to move the data. For example, I can decide to show a list of all my journal posts instead of just the latest one since the data is available.

Development

As I moved from planning to actual development, the first thing I did was set up the folder structure for Jekyll. I almost always have a problem with installing things on my computer, so it took about two hours to install Jekyll, but I eventually had some luck with rbenv. I need to spend more time understanding the terminal, rather than ignorantly pasting commands from StackOverflow and hoping for the best.

I set up the layout using HTML5 Boilerplate, included all the — still empty — components, and then loaded the data in the components to make sure everything was working fine. After this, I went on to the easiest part of the project, building out the HTML and CSS.

I moved my hosting from cPanel to Netlify, and that turned out to be a little more stressful than I expected, but eventually I got it all set up and took the site live!

Here are some details I want to highlight:

Fonts

One thing I tried differently this time was my approach to typography. Instead of scouting Google Fonts for candidates, I decided to buy fonts from an independent foundry. I found an article on Medium that listed eight of these font makers and went on to browse their entire collections for my required aesthetic. The sans-serif had to be very geometric, and I wanted a quirky not-too-serious serif to match. I ended up with Founder’s Grotesk from Klim and Bianco Serif from Alfa Type. I also made sure to optimise webfont performance using this guide from Google.

Visual language

I’m not great with colours and illustrations, so I used a visual style that I’m very comfortable with — minimalist, white & black, line patterns. I really wanted to infuse colour at different points in the project, but I managed to quell the thought every time.

Opting for this simpler approach forced for me to start thinking creatively so I could have some uniqueness, for example mimicking the design of an engineering drawing title block for the metadata.

Assets

I didn’t really use a lot of assets in this version, but the few that I used, I created. For the journal, I started from tracing out a reference image, gradually got more confident and eventually started drawing my own lines and patterns. I learnt that illustration takes a lot of patience, but I’m glad I took the time to do this myself.

Performance

I tackled accessibility and semantic code in real time but delayed performance optimizations till I finished building the design. After the first deployment, performance scores came in at 100 percent, so I didn’t immediately see the need for extra optimizations like service worker caching. Eventually though, when I have some free time, I plan to implement that and maybe also use Ire Aderinokun’s guide to make it work offline.

Currently Digging

The disc on the currently digging section shows a real-time random list of tracks from my Spotify playlist. On refresh, a different list of tracks is loaded, and you can click each one to go to the Spotify track. I had to write an API to connect to Spotify and sort the track information. I did this using Glitch, and the code is available here if you want to remix it for yourself. Just change the environment config and you’re good to go.

This year at work I’ll be spending more time leading than actually designing, so now more than ever having a creative outlet is very important to me. Redoing this website in the way I did was a very encouraging start, and I’m really positive about the content I want to create this year.

I wrote a large chunk of this article before I even started designing, and I edited in real time as I worked. The goal is to make writing part of my design process, such that there’s no complete body of work I do without some documentation to share.

I think this is a good start.

In many ways, I’ve reflected this in my design practice. I sweat the micro-interactions. I do a lot of iterations until the experience feels spick-and-span. I started paying attention to standards and understanding how my tools really work. But there’re still quite a few itches I’m yet to scratch.

I’m still not contributing enough to the pool of design content from which I take so much, and there are other types of design I want to do and share, like interior design and visual essays. As I started thinking about a new website, this was my guiding light.

I currently write on my Medium blog and it’s a messy mix of personal and professional essays. Now that I was thinking of creating even more types of content, questions sprung up quickly. Where will I put what? Should I self-host a blog on my website and ditch the Medium network? Where do I keep case studies? Do I even need case studies? How do these choices affect the time to build?

It took a few days to decide on what to do, but I concluded that I wasn’t going to make this new version a portfolio site for my work. I’m in a position where I no longer need to present a portfolio on my website. I can spend my time writing detailed case studies that can be helpful to others, and just curate links to all these case studies on the site.

I also decided not to self-host a blog. I don’t have a problem keeping my work where I do it: my Paystack work will be documented on the team’s blog, and my Helloworld projects on the collective’s blog as well. Looking at it through this lens, I also saw the opportunity to separate my design work from my personal journal completely, and thus Wuruwuru was born.

Wuruwuru is a Nigerian word that describes a hurried and haphazard approach to doing things. This is how I’ve previously described myself as a designer and developer. Now that I’m changing that attitude and taking the time to specialize and sweat the details, I still like the irony of calling my design publication Wuruwuru.

Creating Wuruwuru is also a small step towards my goal of learning to build visual essays and web experiments, as I plan to publish all this work from there. I hope to build something at least once every six months, and for the first one, I’m making a visual essay on renting my first apartment.

To see what the new site looks like, visit opemipo.com. If you’re interested in how I built it, read the essay on Wuruwuru or the source code on Github.

The first time I changed significantly was in my second term of secondary school. I’d been attending as a day student, but it was proving too difficult for my mum to keep up. By the end of the first term, I certainly had to be moved to the hostel. Getting into boarding school was my first break from a conservative, middle-class, Christian upbringing. There was so much I didn’t know and was eager to find out. I made new friends, crammed “secular” songs and memorized dance moves. I learned about so many things for the first time and picked up more than a few new habits.

If you’ve ever woken up to realize that you gained 10kgs while you were asleep, then you know that change can really just creep up on us. Sometimes though, like my first boarding school experience and this year, we literally feel ourselves change. I observed myself fully morph into my new character: a neater, always-smoking, happy-to-give, contemplative, upper-middle-class, non-religious, non-committal, better-mannered person with a new taste for music! It’s still rough around the edges, but it feels like I’ll be wearing this one for a while.

Like many people I know, I grew up stifled. Communication is frequently hard and can be very one-sided. Strict religious and/or cultural values usually mean there can be a lot of intolerance from parents, teachers, and even siblings and friends. There are many tough restrictions on how and what you should be.

Humans are homophilic and we bond over an appreciation of the same things. When an individual starts to live differently, it has damning effects on their relationship with the tribe. If x is what keeps us together, the absence of x will mean we no longer feel connected. In my conservative upbringing, that bonding agent was a sour mix of dependency, religion, and proximity.

For the relationships we can’t get rid of (like family), we learn to either deploy an entirely different personality or a subdued version of ourselves; for others, like old friendships, we “awkward” our way through. We learn to banter guilt back and forth — “Nawa o, you don’t even send us again”, “Ahn ahn, too busy to pick calls”, “I understand you don’t need us anymore” — even when there’s no clear effort to attune these relationships to our new habits.

This year I brought the guilt to the surface. Oh yes, now I smoke, is that something you can tolerate? Indeed, this is how I like my relationships and why. Is that something that works for you? Okay, my family will never accept my habits, but can we brute-force a new bond based on neutral values and regular communication? Oh, we’re not close anymore because there’s not much left of what made us friends? Are we interested in finding new shared habits to rekindle the friendship?

This year, in acquainting with who I am now, I contemplated a lot of questions. Some of them were existential, some were character-building, and others, like the ones above, were focused on my relationships with others.

Where should I sneeze when I don’t have a hanky? What values are important to me? How do they intersect with my friends’ and family’s values? How much could it possibly cost to just tip everyone that asks? How do I stop belittling myself with anxiety in wealthier circles? What if another city could feel like home? How do I behave so people can be themselves around me? What’s a good sitting position in public? How do cars work? How should my economic growth uplift people that do menial jobs for me? What do I mean when I say I want intimate, non-commital relationships? How do I perform class on my own terms? How do I find new music? How do I have better sex? How do I rekindle old ties where we now have so little in common? How do I learn to mix drinks? How do I fold clothes better? How do I welcome solitude and use it for self-reflection? What is my civic responsibility?

In a previous iteration of myself, I’d have been glad to share my internal dialogue and publicly document my process. This time though, I stuck with echoing the answers to myself because they seemed to never get fully resolved. l kept changing things as I refined my idea of who I wanted to be. There was no point hitting publish.

I’m making conscious efforts to create my best work, to carry the people that matter along, to be kind and fair, to be aware of every other person that contributes in some way to my experience. I want to live without a speck of guilt for who I decide to be. I’m in charge here.

The one thing that I wanted to talk about was the concept of believing in yourself, especially in the age of the internet. You’re constantly comparing yourself to other people, you’re constantly comparing yourself to other… like people in your field of study that may be better than you are at what you’re doing. They may be better artistes, better musicians, when you are constantly trying to meet the expectations of someone else? you’re letting yourself down. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, I don’t need to compare myself to anyone except myself, I don’t owe anybody anything

• Interlude on M.I’s Last night I had a dream about a hummingbird

I think about a lot of random shit. The devil works hard, but the associative networks in my head work harder. First, they plop down (when you read that, I want you to think of discrete cylindrical dollops of shit) a random thought into my mind.

For example, I see my colleague Alex, and then I remember my house master from secondary school Mr Alex, and then… plop

_when I recall my seniors and teachers from secondary school, I still remember them as being physically bigger than me even though most of them are probably not bigger than me anymore…_

Sometimes I discard the thought and end it there, or (recently) jot it down in a note I titled Hits Blunt. Other times, I share with someone around me, or with my followers on Twitter for some good ‘ol reliable likes.

*tweeting is, for me, like shouting in a canyon and waiting for echoes*

Occasionally though, the thought reminds me of another discarded thought, which reminds me of another thought, and then another thought and then… you get the point.

When the chain of discarded plops seems to be — even slightly — related, and I need a way to petri dish the ideas until I come to a good conclusion, then Medium.

So, here we are.

_the thing with the world getting smaller is that people will get even smaller_

These days, when I think of sharing something “original”, my personal demon shows up on my shoulder like…

• Ope, do you want to publish this and revel in your ignorance or just, like, google the topic and find 2,345 people that have thought of the same thing before, maybe more elaborately.
• In the larger scheme of things being created and shared, does your… you know what? never mind… Write answers on Quora? Answer questions on Stack Overflow? Post pictures? Same bus stop. The more time I spend consuming the world, the smaller I feel, and the less impressive my things sound to me. Recently, I’ve been reading stuff about the human mind, and human history and you know, what makes us people and it doesn’t really help oloun, because I admire these bodies of work so much so I end up shrinking myself. These people are spending their lives doing important stuff, and I’m…?

_why are you so concerned about being small? what does it mean to you to create something “important”?_

There has been no point in my life when I wanted to be a big man, or a famous/influential person. In fact, all through uni, I was the friend that claimed to not want to be wealthy (I’ve changed my mind on this one cos whew!). One of coolest things Ezra did (as for me) in the early days of Paystack when we had “techie hype” was to set all our internet passwords to “localchampions…” (he hasn’t broken this record). My driving factor in life has been to make things that satisfy me, and that I can be proud of, nothing more.

With all that in context, you can see why I’ve been really confused as to where all the “small” feelings were coming from. And so, when I listened to M.I’s new album, I felt it. The intro quoted at the beginning of this article was the plop that reminded me of all the other plops. It was the thing that made me attempt to string all those discarded plops into this brain dump.

I’d like to speak with the therapist that spoke on the interlude — Caryn Solomon — because I want to argue. I think when you create work that you want people to appreciate, you have to be aware that it competes with everything else that’s available to them. And if you want them to feel “great” about it, it’s not enough to just best yourself. You have to body as many people as possible.

When you say you feel small or inadequate, and a really smart person says “stop comparing yourself to others”, “the only person that you need to be better than is yourself”, all I hear is:

*the solution to feeling small is to just accept that you’re small*

And maybe that’s it.

My brain bowels are emptying out, and I’m on my last plop. I don’t think I’ve reached a clean conclusion, but I’m glad to have worked through this. I’ve been learning a lot of new things and rebuilding old connections, and this is something I think I’d like to take on too: sharing more again because “fuck all of you that figured it out before me, I just figured it out”.

I can’t ignore the internet nor pretend there’s nothing out there that’s better than whatever I produce, but even in comparing myself to these people, I must appreciate my improvement and maybe even accept some solace in the knowledge that whatever I create is special to the people in my world, in the same way the seniors I never see again will always feel bigger than me.

Maybe 30 other people published articles about feeling like local champions, but who gives a shit right now? Definitely not me.

(cause I’m out… of plops? get it? sigh)

I lost the zeal to share, with the crowd or with friends. I enjoyed the good moments, and they were a lot, but I embraced the solitude otherwise. I burdened every opportunity to share with questions like “why”, “what does this do for you?”, “what do you gain from it”?

There’s an easier way to put this: I became a dead guy. 😂

It’s hard to talk about myself these days because I’m still figuring out what I want to be. As I self-identified on Quora, I’m “in the phase of life where I’m curious about everything.” These days, I spend a lot of time floating around in my head, debating for both sides in every argument.

I’m sure it’d be more entertaining if I told stories about driving fast, or my new experiences since leaving Lagos (temporarily), but for some reason, this is the story I want to tell; the answer to “Ope, are you like, really really okay?”

In one year, I’ve learnt much more than I expected about life. I’m “wiser”, but it cost me quite a bit of cheer. I know I’m sadder, but I’m doing good. My solitude is not harmful because I’m doing a shit ton of work, and I when I get too sullen, I take time out to enjoy my bimmer, occasional partying, great sex, good weed, you know… the stuff I could spin cool stories about if I wanted to.

I’m 26 today, (whoop!) and my theme song for this birthday, thanks to Drake, is Ratchet Happy Birthday. You can play it on my behalf.

I’m glad I was able to finish this, I deleted it a couple of times. Now to get facking high all day and maybe make some new birthday friends.

Over the past few months, I’ve struggled with my identity on the internet, what I represent, why I share and what I should share. I’ve read a lot of things, and talked to a few people (thanks Onyekachi!) to help me figure out my shit, and now I’ve put together all these (other people) opinions plus (like 3%) original thought into … this.

The internet was revolutionary in many ways. When it changed everything, it also changed the audience that was available to us. It gave us a bigger, less personal audience. It made fame much easier, and based on our psychological need to be liked and socially recognized, we jumped at it.

On the subject of how it applies to me:

• I started to worry about my intentions for the content I share; I also harbored a concern that if I continued second-guessing all my social media activity, I would hardly ever post again. But I want to post, lol
• So, I tried to search for my own answers as to why I share the way I do on social media, and why I feel bad and withdrawn about it now. PS: This article is not an indictment of people or how they use social media. I don’t give a shit, and I probably share more than the average person. I’m not “holier-than-thou” nor “deeper-than-rap”. This is an expression of my internal conflict.

To begin, let’s go back a few years.

Onyekachi and I recently talked about the “gbagaun” era, one of the periods during early Twitter where it was fashionable to call out typos and get retweets for it. We considered that this was our first introduction to the “cancel culture” that we have now, where snide and easy fame are in bed, churning out internet babies that can’t wait to get those retweets. This was me below (ThatMerryKid, lol) “gbagauning_”_ one of my friends.

There were entire social media personas like @GbagaunDetector that built a following on this craze (even though these days they tweet like the average Joe). We were very unaware of what we were perpetrating, and it didn’t really start off as the bullying that “cancel culture” is popular for now, even though it probably was. Some of us were even willing to make typos if it meant we’d be trending for it.

Looking back at my old tweets to see how I participated in the Gbagaun era was funny. The best thing I got out of it though, was that it allowed me articulate how I came to be this way on the internet. I’ll use Twitter as an example.

If you were anything like me on Twitter, this is the story:

It’s 2011, and you reset your Twitter password because now it’s cool. At this point, the numbers were the holy grail. It was dope to have a lot of tweets. I remember TMC had 27,000 tweets or so oh he was the coolest brother.

It starts off being so cozy and friendly The audience was family and friends, so it was, at the beginning, an extension of regular life, and not the escape from real life that we have now (thankful for this too though).

And then the audience starts to grow Some days Twitter **felt like **being in a room with celebrities. It was our first exposure to being in constant communication with distant strangers that become friends. I remember I had a crush on this particular chic that schooled in Ukraine but used Twitter so much she knew more about what was happening in Nigeria than I did.

**Gradually, you realize so many different people are listening to you **It’s like being a Somolu preacher, carrying a microphone everywhere preaching the word. Except, people are actually listening to you. We were growing into this world, and adjusting to the expanding audience. My friends knew me as “ThatMerryKid”, now I realize why I may have been prompted changed it to “TheMerryKid”.

**And then you start to perform **You make one joke, you get 200 retweets. You like the attention, now you gotta make more. Trends and hashtags were also a way to build the audience. We “made things trend”. We did #FollowFriday. We were unknowingly chasing fame, and creating an audience of people that had no context to our lives except for the content we were creating.

If we know anything about audiences, it’s that they tend to own you. You hear people talk about “making music for the fans”. It’s pretty much the same online. You become a publisher, and you have to make content for the fans (the haters too) to thrive.

I share my life partly because social media is the fastest way to keep my close ones and far friends abreast of my life, partly because it the quickest way to discuss my thoughts and get opinion without burdening the people I know personally, and in some spaces largely because over the years I’ve grown an audience, and I need to entertain them.

These days, when I think about the content I share, I want to be more of the first two and less of the last. The issue though, is that I believe it’s almost impossible to not be a publisher on the inters of net.

I recently stumbled upon (haha remember StumbleUpon?) an article about the dark side of social media. The author focused on Instagram sharing and faux perfection and emphasized a desire to “be herself” on the internet. It resonated with me and I started to think about the role that platforms play in all of this, and if we can really be ourselves on these platforms.

Take Twitter.

There is no way to reply to just someone on a public tweet without moving to that weird personal space called DMs. Maybe we should use DMs more, but until that happens all the conversation is public. And so frequently when we “correct” someone in this public space, we do it to create more content for our audience. Smarter people have called call it signaling. Which is why, deep down, we can’t wait for people to goof.

Pot: A platform that didn’t quickly control mob action or provide more flexible ways to restrict access to content (asides from outrightly padlocking your profile)

Water: Conversations that are always public to a large-ass audience with varying backgrounds and zero context

Indomie: The nature of humanity when there’s an audience

Spice: Social recognition and fame (retweets/follows) as reward for snark commentary

Take Instagram.

The only way to actively participate on Instagram is to share a photo or video — a moment of your life. There are a ton of moments in every day, but you can only share one, or best case, a few minutes of videos. You have to curate yourself to participate.

Also take a look at the audience (at least for people like me that share personal stuff and not just work). Originally, your friends followed you. But over the years, those friends become strangers you used to know, but you still lug them around. Actual strangers also join them and follow you in hordes, so now your audience is more strangers than friends. These strangers now expect a persona, something to like.

What’s your story? Are you a happily married family brand? Are you the globetrotting, deep stuff sharing brand (🙃)? Once you’re aware of the audience (when you get the likes), you start to optimize for the things that bring the most attention, the things that fit your story.

Even when you’re not a liar or catfish, that person cannot be whatever you define as “you”, because it is curated. Some of your close friends may even make hearty jokes about “you on Instagram”.

We can all agree it’s okay to be a different you depending on the audience and platform. There’s really only a problem when, like me, one of the yous starts to diverge or conflict with the others.

Hawthorne effect and Social Facilitation suggest that we behave differently when people are watching. I believe we also behave differently depending on who’s watching. I’m a slightly different person with different sets of friends, and an even more different a person when I’m with family. That’s the way social interaction works.

If I’m not going to accept what I’m inclined to share, if I’m going to fight my online personas, maybe a good place to start is to pay more attention to the audience.

I’m standing on the podium, looking at the crowd of followers in front of me and I’m asking “how can I share personal stuff and still be myself”. Maybe a true personal life cannot really be shared with a crowd. Maybe, to start figuring shit out, I need to first say the grace and dismiss the congregation.

A few weeks ago, a police raid happened at a popular nightclub in Lagos where a lot of scammers were arrested. The ensuing conservation on Twitter was not surprising, at least not to me. Apologists tweeted in their droves, sympathizing with the fraudsters and humanizing them, with arguments along the lines of “after all they’re people with families to feed” and “they’re contributing to the GDP of the country”.

All of us on the other side of the moral divide quickly descended war on them with threads and videos extolling the virtues of good hard work, and emphasizing that the hardship in the country was not responsible for fraud, but rather the individual (honestly, it’s a bit of both). It’s the same with many other arguments on Twitter, where a large number of people defend ideals and ideas that are so dangerous and dated, but actually reflect society, no matter how “surprised” we act every time.

Nigeria breeds bad values, and the majority of us go ahead to build our lives on those values. Those apologists are just regular Nigerians, and they would clone some credit cards if they were brave enough. It’s in the water. It’s in the air. It’s woven into the very fabric of our society. The choice to do the wrong thing is more readily available than that of doing the right thing. For example, people driving hardly turn on their signals before changing lanes. Once there’s even a little space on the other lane, a lot of people just aggressively switch lanes. Combine this with badly planned roads and potholes everywhere, and you’ll realize you cannot drive by the rules on Lagos roads. Them go bash your car. You have to drive by the rules of Lagos roads.

Nigerians are, by default, terrible.

Recently, I’ve found myself telling anyone that cares to listen that I don’t like my country because of the people. What I’ve found myself saying is “Nigerians are terrible”, otherwise said as “Nigerians are terrible, but I’m not”. A lot of people say this, usually based off the laughable conviction that we’re better than the society. A few days ago, after I made that statement to yet another person, I decided to count how many terrible Nigerians I know personally, and after I queued up family and friends, I realized I could not objectively call them terrible people. So, who are the terrible Nigerians then?

I recently watched Jide Olanrewaju’s History of Nigeria, and at the end of the chilling expose into the rather consistent corruption in the Nigerian government, I took some time to reflect on something: What are our Nigerian values? What does it mean to be a Nigerian? What do we represent as a people?

For example, I believe that one of the reasons America is unraveling now is that one of their core values (pillage and conquer) requires a homogeneity of people and thought that no longer exists. Learning to co-exist with other people rather than control them is seemingly hard for them as a country.

On this side of the world, Nigeria has from the onset been a power tussle, a Frankenstein where all the individual parts want to wield control. It has “evolved” into a deeply religious, intolerant, individual wealth driven, dog-eat-dog society where power prevails over justice. The vast majority of Nigerians are poor, both economically and ideologically. I summarized Nigeria’s core values as:

• Get it however you can
• Keep it however you must
• Above all protect yourself Those are the only rules. Ready, set, survive. There are no good in-between values, like hard work or kindness. There is no loyalty to country. Instead, the in-betweens are fraught with religious and ethnic intolerance, with a dash of disregard for other people *cue salt bae*. Every Nigerian can be good but it has to be the only choice. Once there’s a more self-rewarding choice, we’ll take it.

The vast majority of us play dual roles — victims and perpetrators — in a society that has no true identity or values. Across class, the only difference is that the richer, more powerful, more educated ones among us have more of a choice to do things right. But we’re all optimizing for the same things so the right choice be damned.

An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an outside force

With the full backing of Newton’s first law, I daresay unless something clashes with Nigeria, nothing will really change. It’s not pessimism, it’s just the truth. There’s no incentive for reform. We need something to veer us off this path, and nothing is forthcoming.

Regular Nigerians will need to take the wealth and the life they’ve created for themselves, and instead of flaunting it, give it back to a society that has done nothing for them. That’s a hard sell, and even I am not ready to sacrifice. The benefits of a broken system increase the higher up the chain you get. Would you invest your savings in civic advocacy when you can buy a Benz? Would you tell your police convoy to stay in traffic when you can drive one-way and get home in fifteen minutes instead of two hours?

This is a cohesive attempt at rationalizing my society, and deciding between one of three choices:

• Stay, blend in and stop complaining.
• Stay, double down on individual contribution to society (knowing it won’t really change anything) and stop complaining.
• Leave, and stop complaining. My point is, complaining (and doing just that) is pointless, and I want to do less of that. I can’t keep complaining about the immense pressure put on young people to be successful, and also perpetuate that pressure on other people under the guise of “documenting my life”. It’s not just the thought that counts.

In the same vein, I don’t also want to keep complaining about the country. It is what it is, and if I’ve identified my society correctly, I should choose a path. It’s do-something-or-not-but-shut-up season.

Honestly, sometimes I just want to type out everything. From my chest to you, with my chest.

I want to write about all my plans, those things that go from a random conversation to multiple cloud documents, and then to history. I want to tell “the crowd” about the ridiculously cool things I want to do, and how (I know!) it sounds so much cooler to say “I will be spending three or four months in another country every year to explore new places I can call home” than it is to pull off. I want to write about rediscovering boredom. It became no longer enough to just exist, laying in my room; always felt like I was missing out on something, because now I have the internet, and I can see everyone else in motion. I need to one-up the internet and relearn how to wander with just my mind, and I want to write about that. I want to write about my plans to make a book, and how badly that’s going at the moment. I want to write summaries about the books I’ve been reading.

I want to write more about romance, that bitch of a thing. Relationships are done with living breathing people, not laundry bags that you leave in the bottom drawer and return to meet laying there, having caught no feelings for you. I know that is common sense, and I also now know my ideal arrangement may be a farce, a simple reflection of what it means to be human and insatiable. How often do you text your friend-with-benefits? How often should you talk? If you want sensual sex, how do you build up for it? What’s the right number of people to juggle before you don’t really have anything special or scared to share with any single person. It’s never going to be easy to find the perfect mix of care and nonchalance in one person, and I want to keep writing about it.

I want to write about my close friends, every one of them so so special. My friends can do things, and I want to tell you all about it. Sometimes I remember specific experiences with them and I want to exercise whatever literary abilities I have, so they know, in prose, how they’ve changed what it means to be me. I want to write about my distant friends, and how hard it is to keep up. I want to write about growing out of people, and not being able to truly admit that I’m a rolling stone, and I gather no moss. I want to write about everything I’ve stolen from all my friends, both distant and close; the gestures, the jokes, the life hacks, my new-found technical curiosity. I want to write about everything I’ve stolen from them that now is all me.

I want to write about work. It’s like this baby I changed diapers for and is now getting too big for my bed. Nothing special, tons of people went through that, but even the wealth of writing from these people doesn’t make it easier. I never will answer the question “Don’t you want to grow with the company?”, because it means I’ll have to answer the question of what I want to grow to become. I don’t [know] want to think about it. Sometimes, you can step up to the task without knowing what it is. That’s my play. I want to write about all the brilliance I work with, and how I became a better [insert skill] by working with [insert awesome person at Paystack]. I want to write about all the changes in values and how we’re going about structure, all the sprint methodologies we’ve tried, all the problems with working with people, all the design hacks I’ve garnered, all the tools I’ve picked up, all the tea.

I want to write about bad dreams, about waking up and feeling everything. The dreamscape. The place where I huff and puff and run and dodge and drive fast and jump and fly and mourn, and then I wake up and it’s just been a few hours. The place where people I will never see again pop in and out like next door neighbours, like Mr Alex and Andrew Idoko from secondary school do. Even though I know they don’t look like that anymore, or maybe never even looked like that, in my dreams I recognize them. If Andrew is not Andrew, then the people in my dreams, who are they?

I want to write about all the questions. You know what they say about ignorance being bliss? Well, I’m past that. These days, I’m haunted by the sheer futility of human life. Death is disturbing, not scary, and when I remember all the people plucked away who were no more or less different than me, I see no reason why fate won’t choose me next. Videos of dead people, surviving where they would not, make me feel weird inside. The origin of life, this floating rock, the patterns that repeat themselves, my small reality, the insignificance of my….

“Guuuuuuys, see this yansh on Instagram”

I want to write gratitudes for everything else about life that distracts me so that I never spend enough time mourning my meaningless existence for it to become detrimental. I guess it’s just a few difficult minutes of sobering reality every day, and I make sure to take my pills.

I want to write until it’s all off my chest. About a hundred people scattered around the world will read, and bear some of my burden, or celebrate some of my joy. A few of them will meet me at a bar and ask me about that article, and for a few seconds, I’ll feel more special than I usually do. I even want to write differently than I’m comfortable with. This… storytelling pattern is getting old, and as with everything, I’m too itchy to move on.

I want to write, but I can’t get myself to.

He couldn’t wait to show Mr. Uche. The duo worked together at a gas shop around the corner, filling up cylinders and delivering them to customers. He lived around the area too. When the shop had first opened up months before, he’d walked over and offered to work with Mr. Uche. As the younger and physically stronger man, he was the perfect partner to move the larger cylinders around. And so Mr. Uche had lobbied the owner of the shop, Madam Davina, to enlist Segun. That was three months ago.

Today was a busy day at the shop. Madam Davina had asked them to deliver seven cylinders to the catholic church by 1pm. It was already noon, but Segun figured he could make some time for a free haircut from the new barbing salon in the area. When he announced his plan, Mr. Uche had scoffed, and in his stutter contested any chance of it happening.

“It it’s not possible. May maybe they they will charge you 200 naira instead of 300 naira, but they ca cannot do it for free.”

Segun had gotten his haircut regardless, and hurried back to the shop to gloat. As he approached the entrance, he smiled in response to the grin on Mr. Uche’s face.

“Mr Ushe, I tell you now, e no collect money.”

January 11 would otherwise have been a normal day for John. It wasn’t peak period for the usual partying and clubbing crowd. Droves of travellers had just left the country after the Christmas holidays, overseas to where they had built new lives. The clubs and lounges were noticeably emptier, and after John’s really long day at work, all he wanted was some shisha and fiancee time.

Ore picked him up at work and they drove quietly to his favorite bar, Rollers. This time of the year was a blessing, the two-three week window of sanity in Lagos — on the roads, and in the bars. Rollers was ten minutes away from John’s office and the journey was over in no time.

As they approached the bar, a shadow in a reflective jacket moved out onto the road in front of her car. They’d expected this. He walked towards the driver side of the car and started to talk.

“Hayyss. How far? You wan park?”

Ore ignored him and continued her search for a parking spot. He followed her as she settled behind a row of cars. He reached to open the door before she unlocked it. She turned at him and sneered. He let the door go, but as soon as he heard the click of the door, he grabbed the handle again.

“Welcome madam.”

As Ore came down from the car, she took the door from him and noticed his tattoos. John had noticed too, and started to move their personal effects into the boot. When he was done, Ore locked the doors and they both walked to the bar entrance, not saying a word to the man clamoring for their attention.

“Your car safe here sir, na we dey protect cars for here.”

Ore locked the car one more time, just to be sure, and then they walked in.

Madam Davina didn’t pay enough to cover the bills, so when it started to get dark, Segun would hang around the clubs to start his side gig: hustling the customers for parking fees. It made him almost as much money as his job at the gas shop.

Sometimes there was work to be done. He had to make sure there was parking space available near the club entrance for the expensive cars. These people hated to park too far away for fear of the safety of their vehicles. He also helped the many people who had trouble parallel parking with chants of “Cut your hand”.

After a stressful night of parking cars and jumping from the road to avoid drunken drivers, he had to remit some money to Sky, the local government recognized tout that controlled the area.

The busier periods were better, because he and the others could set their price for parking, and give trouble to whoever tried to contest it.

On quiet days like this though, the price for parking would be decided by the magnanimity of the customers. Maybe he’d get lucky, and some drunken rich guy would throw out a couple thousand naira notes from the hatch of his Mercedes, but that was rarely the case.

Today’s playbook was hurl sycophancies at the customers and hope that they were impressed enough to pay in five hundred naira notes.

John was in a good mood as they headed out of Rollers; Ore wasn’t. She’d just spent two hours sitting in way too loud music. There were definitely better ways to relax. By the time John finally agreed to leave, she was sour. So when the area boy came by the car with his chants of “Oga sir”, “Fine madam”, “Na me park you”, she was having none of it.

John searched his pockets till he found a crumpled 100 naira note and handed it over to the man from across Ore. Segun held the bill loosely, and in a jovial tone tried to solicit for more.

“Oga you be big man now. See your fine madam. Add something for your boy.”

Ore wasn’t having any of that. She snatched the note back from Segun’s hand, rolled up the windows, and started to leave. Segun managed to get his hand out of the door just before she hurt him. Again, as she pulled the car back, she almost ran over his foot.

Segun was furious. He started to bang on the boot of the car, shouting expletives at the couple.

“You wan kill me? Ontop change? Me sef I go school now!”

At this point, everyone was angry. John asked Ore to stop the car as he unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to raise hell. Outside the door, Segun was also huffing and puffing, prepared to see this to the very end.

Down the road, a bus driver sped down oblivious of the drama ahead. The car was already in the middle of the road when John stepped out to accost Segun. Ore looked into the mirror to see the bus speeding down, and screamed out John’s name as she reached out to grab him back into the car.

It was too late.

Over the years, the country had become a carcass of itself, robbed of all its gold by the very people who governed it. At first, it was harmless begging — security men, waitresses, government workers, university lecturers, airport staff, everyone. Driven by lack, people had transcended shame.

During the day, women, children and men — frequently missing one or more limbs — would congregate by the traffic stops. A red light was their signal to stick their faces into car windows, asking for money from strangers. It didn’t matter if you asked them to stop; the children would only push their faces in a little further, decorating cars in hand prints.

At night, every other road in Lagos Island became real estate, business grounds for the touts who charged for parking. Some of the nicer ones would promise protection, as a way of signaling an exchange of value, but everyone saw it for what it was. Extortion was a pandemic, and everyone drooled for money where they hadn’t worked.

We all learned to cope. We gave handouts to the attendants at the airport. We tipped the policemen to avoid harassment. When the beggars approached, we learned to look straight ahead and ignore them. We paid the area boys for parking. It got more expensive to make everyone go away, but we paid up anyway.

It was hard, but we figured we could make them invisible.

Recently, my paternal grandma died. My dad was close to her, so I know it was a pretty big deal to him. She was also really old and had been hoping to die, so it was quite a relief and not a melancholic death. But quite honestly, it could have been any 100 year old stranger.

My cousin (who was trying to hitch a ride to the burial) appeared shocked when I told her I was skipping the ceremony to spend time with my friends instead.

“Ah, don’t tell anyone this o. How can you say you’re not attending your own grandma’s burial because of a friend’s birthday?”

I immediately tackled my cousin. My friends are more important to me than someone I met barely three times in twenty five years. I got so defensive that I started thinking about it. Why the fuck was she trying to guilt-trip me? Why did “your own grandma” make it seem more serious?

To me, family is all the people in my support group: my siblings and parents, my friends, my co-workers. But if I understand that a family is a pack of people that provide support to one another, how far out should that web be spun? How much do I owe the people that supported my support system?

Nothing. I owe them nothing.

I was probably too young to appreciate all the people that my mum borrowed money from to pay for our school fees; and while it contributed directly to my life, I’m not sure that I owe them reciprocal support — my mum does. However, I owe my mum, and so if she ever asks, it’s a no-brainer. She used some of their support for me, and earned the right to use some of mine for them.

If I did go to the burial, it would not have been about my grandma, but instead about my dad. It’s definitely easier for me to muster compassion for my dad’s mum than for my grandma.

Thankfully though, my parents didn’t want me there anyway.

“I pray to be like you when I grow up ooo”.

That’s what my mum tells me when she calls at 9am and I sound like I just got out of bed, especially when I tell her I’ll be working from home that day. As we all know, it’s 2018, and working from home is a luxury.

I’m not sure it should be though. There’s already something weird about spending a huge part of life “working to achieve someone else’s bottom line in the hopes that you improve your life doing so”¹. I guess time and presence are just line items of the price we pay to live well.

Only a few people can do this, and I admit only a few jobs allow this, but it’s a beautiful thing to have your days available to you; to be able to go to the gym at 11am in the morning or be able to sit for lunch with friends at 2pm in the afternoon on a weekday. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to spend the days of the week with the people you love, while still making a living.

I think the greatest luxury is being able to decide what you do with your time.

¹ Excerpt from Bryan Hughes’ article in the 17th edition of Offscreen

The first time I ever saw Offscreen’s motto “To advance humanity”, I jeered.

You see, Offscreen is a really brilliant one-man design / technology magazine, but nothing grander. As far as I was concerned, it was quite the overstatement of the impact that a mere design magazine could possibly be making to humanity. Come on…. the whole humanity?!

Four or so editions of Offscreen down the line, I don’t jeer at the motto anymore. In a weird way, I’ve come to understand how the little things we do progress humanity. I understand how important it is for people to create local content, for people to write academic journals, for people to attempt to use service design to transform governance. I managed to scale down humanity enough to understand how tiny contributions matter.

The excerpt above shows Ashwini Asokan discussing how we desperately need more diverse people to participate in designing artificial intelligence, because we’re building a model of humanity, and that model needs all possible demographics. Reading that excerpt made me realize how important contribution is, how seemingly trivial things like documenting living conditions in Unilag could end up being important.

My realism has never allowed me to see myself or my work as important. It’s much easier for me to see how Elon Musk is progressing humanity than for me to admit designing payment modals for money (and for fun) makes any dent in the world. One time, a Lyft driver in San Francisco, upon learning what I do for work, went on and on about how I was indirectly influencing behaviour and defining what that part of the internet means to some people.

For those ten minutes with the Lyft driver, it felt bigger than just writing code and aligning divs.

To January.

To Moyo, and an amazing new year’s, complete with alcohol and new friends. To the most cold I’ve experienced.

To Nife, and bonding with his friends. To Joseph. To being alone in a city where one should have friends, looking forward to going home.

To February.

To being back home. To Timi, Jubril, and a new Lagos life. To moving into a new house, and doing it well. To spending the rest of the year living with the most inspiring, most supportive friends one can ever ask for.

To protesting, for nothing.

To Kachi, Tomi and Bobby, for letting me teach in my own way. To running an internship, and somehow managing to pull it off.

To March.

To Uganda, and to adventure. To Sheri. To Ugandan nightlife, and to being tall Nigerian men. To waking up on the other side of town.

To Willy. To sitting with strangers — now friends — talking about war in Congo. To banana beer, and to ATMs in Kigali that pay dollars.

To April.

To my mum, and to growing older. To responsibility, and to stepping up. To being there; to being a son she can be proud of.

To the most epic house-warming party. To the “unholy communion table”. To the friends that gave us their art. To the friends that bought.

To May.

To running consistently. To losing weight and feeling better about my body. To the disbelief (and subtle amusement) of childhood friends getting married. To supporting them.

To milestones. To Timi, his new car, and the beauty of progress.

To June.

To Nigeria. To Port Harcourt, Akwa Ibom, and to Calabar. To experiencing diversity with Jubril. To Cohan, and to the hilarity of karaoke.

To Abuja and drunken nights. To Favour and Rotimi. To the train that leaves on time to Kaduna.

To July.

To 25. To old friends, and new beginnings. To Tomi walking down the aisle. To Yinka, to Aisosa, and to everyone there with her.

To goodbyes at work. To seven days in Accra with my family. To reluctantly fasting. To realising my mum may have more energy for adventure than me when it comes to botanical gardens.

To August.

To returning to Lagos yet again, but this time ready for responsibility at work. To Paystack and how far I’ve come with Ezra and Loknan. To all the songs that now remind me of chasing sunsets on the Embarcadero.

To seeing Phardiga again, even when I told him — when we were leaving school — that it was unlikely.

To September.

To being young and getting what you want. To Jubril’s dream car and to VIP parking ever since.

To venturing out to Owerri on my own. To Tolu for doing the same by going to Dubai. To ferrying to the rivers that never mix. To hunting down 51, Iweka Road, Onitsha.

To October.

To Ire, first for being amazing, and then for Frontstack. To tech parties, and to birthday dinners at Crossroads.

Also to Craft, to Shrine, to Kalakuta, to Chefyvs, to Master Li and to Silverfox.

To November.

To cabin houses and to the gang. To Jola. To Ake festival, and to feminism.

To meeting young people. To new vibes with 90s babies. To new music with 90s babies. To new music that helps with work.

To Paystack. To growing so fast, and fighting to keep up. To figuring it out.

To December.

To Kachi. To swimming. To Tomiwa. To crypto. To cooking. To Idera. To playing the guitar again. To Them Dochi. To going out, a lot. To closing the year on a high.

To Daniel, and to Denny. To closing the year.

To retrospectives.

To you.

Cheers to the best fucking year of my life!

Recently, I was lamenting to my friend about a situation when she pointed out that I was becoming too emotionally detached and I should consider dating again. I did consider it, and nooooooope.

However, this gave me reason to reflect on my experience being single for the past two years and how it has affected me.

Sex

Haha. The holy grail of singledom. I have to admit, this single most touted benefit is barely as glamorous.

What you get instead of constant sex is sexual freedom — the ability to lust and flirt and chase without any moral restrictions. I honestly haven’t done much chasing in this time though; I am so so far from the Charlie Harper stereotype.

For someone not looking to be committal at all, I’m supposed to be chasing strictly sexual arrangements. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have enough sexual confidence to get into people’s DMs asking to shift their wombs. To worsen this, I’ve gotten tired of wooing people, and going through the necessary evil of convincing women I’m a little less shitty.

I also avoid being rejected by people like a plague, and so I would never walk up to a stranger to crack a joke about her falling from heaven. As far as sexual partners (you can see how I’ve played myself), this has left me with the low hanging fruits — brave admirers on the internet and friends I’ve known for a while.

Within this cross-section of women, I’ve lolluxed and kpanshed occasionally, ranging from great weed-high sex to laughable nut-in-the-time-it-takes-to-proofread-a-tweet sex. Ultimately, being single has fucked with my sexual confidence, something I can only regain with constant sex, which honestly won’t happen till I’m dating again.

Money

Here’s the thing — I think I might be a lot more frugal when I’m in a relationship because my girlfriends don’t understand why I have to be so stupid with money. They step in with side glances to get me to put my wallet back in every now and again, and that sounds like a money saving strategy.

However, I’ve also been known to spend obscenely on my girls. The most expensive date I’ve gone on as a single guy cost about 60k naira. If I had a babe, I’d do those dates every time she had a bad day at work which, in Nigeria, can be pretty much every other day. In the long run, check and balance.

PS: I realize I’ve never dated a rich babe sha, so my expectations for spending with a girlfriend might be based on the incorrect assumption that I’ll be picking up the bill frequently.

Work

If there was ever anyone that should come in between me and dating again, it should be Paystack.

The absence of emotional responsibility has resulted in me producing the best work of my life in record time. I literally have all twenty four hours of most days to myself, and I work odd hours and only take breaks to party, travel, and well, to sleep.

Does this mean I’d be less productive with a girlfriend? Probably, but also maybe not to an alarming degree. I mean, Timi and Ire ship just as much shit as me (if not more) and they’re in a full-time (yes, there’s a difference) relationship.

Looking back though, I can ascribe a lot of my work ethic / work-life balance to living a completely selfish life. I also acknowledge this is definitely not the only way to achieve that.

Character

I’ve grown an insane amount of self consciousness in the past few years. Being by myself a lot has helped me quickly self reflect, self evaluate and self correct. Gone are the days when I would do a shitty thing and not realize it. Also gone is my long suffering non-communicativeness — the one that usually leads to malice and vexing over trivial things.

I’m way less prone to apologize without figuring out what I did wrong and how not to do it again. I’m not sure whether this is just a function of growing up, but I’m way better with dealing with people, because I have more reason to use logic rather in situations where I’d emote and misbehave.

The downside in my character however is that I’ve gotten so detached. Living for myself alone has made me so selfish and non-chalant to people other than my immediate friends and family. I know I have to get better at this — keeping in touch and sending warm messages.

This entire holiday period I haven’t felt the need to reach out to anyone to say hi. Even if I force myself to, it sucks that it has now become unnatural.

Adventure

I’m the most accomplished fifth wheel I know. Tens of dates under my belt, and plenty of time spent cracking jokes so the couples can quit their private meetings in the middle of the club.

Third wheeling has never been a problem, and I even like it sometimes. However, I only have to occasionally do that. Most of my adventures as a pringle have been solo or with one friend — this year that person was Jubril.

While I’d love to travel with someone I’m romantically engaged with (for the foreign nacks), travelling alone with full creative license has been a freaking vibe. I think the absence of a girlfriend (at least a conservative one like I’ve mostly had) allowed me venture into the world without a thought.

For me, I can do every part just well enough because I’m driven by a need to solve problems end to end. This generalist behavior has me describing my job as product designer.

One of the most impressive things I’ve done professionally is my early work at Paystack. For the first year, I single handedly did all the front end work and design — website, multiple dashboards, checkout javascript library, payment pages etc. It’s my claim to fame, and I like to bring it up whenever I can. Even now, there are only two designers on the team, myself and Onyekachi. As the company grows though, we need to hire more.

Because of my experience doing diverse design work by myself, in trying to grow the design team I try to hire generalists. While specialization isn’t bad at all, I think at this infantile stage the company will benefit more from designers that can do everything. Also, since I’m only just learning how to manage other people, it makes sense to keep the team size small. So far though, it’s been very difficult finding really good generalist designers in Nigeria; the best designers tend to be specialized.

My evaluation process for this product designer role has been mostly manual. I look through code and portfolios to evaluate design chops, and arbitrarily decide whether the candidate is good enough. Recently however, the engineering team decided to put work into a mathematical benchmark for determining how good applicants are. Ezra ‘God’ Olubi. found a really good template on the internet, the Programmer Competency Matrix.