By Adetunde Babalola
I often look back on my childhood and realise that what I thought was mere survival was in fact the foundation of my success. I was not born into wealth. My parents were hardworking, but opportunities were scarce and every kobo counted.
As a child, while other boys were busy playing football on dusty fields after school, I was learning how to sell. My “playground” was the open market, the street corners, and the crowded bus stops where people hurried past with pockets of naira and urgent needs waiting to be met.
I sold everything I could lay my hands on. Pure water, groundnuts, sweets, bread anything that could bring in a few coins. My little tray was not just a means of survival, it became my training ground.
I learnt how to persuade, how to smile even when the sun beat down mercilessly, how to endure insults from customers who would buy nothing after wasting my time, and how to protect my tiny profits from older boys who tried to snatch them away. Without knowing it, I was already an entrepreneur.
By the time I was in secondary school, I had moved beyond petty selling. I started running small errands for neighbours, supplying soap and foodstuffs on credit and collecting payment at month’s end. I even convinced a local tailor to let me market his clothes to civil servants in our area.
For every shirt I sold, I earned a little commission. Those early days taught me the value of trust, record-keeping, and persistence. People bought from me not just because of what I sold, but because they trusted me. That trust became my capital, far more important than any money I held in hand.
Fast forward to when I graduated from university. Like many of my peers, I stepped into the world with high expectations and even higher frustrations.
The job market was bleak. CVs were submitted, interviews were attended, promises were made, but nothing tangible came out of it. For months, I lived in a haze of rejection and self-doubt. Friends who once shared my struggles began finding their way abroad, while others settled into government jobs through connections I did not have. I had no job, no offers, and no one to lean on.
But when I looked around, I remembered that I had never truly depended on a “job” to survive. My entire childhood was built on finding ways where there seemed to be none. That entrepreneurial spirit stirred in me again. I realised that the same skills that kept me afloat as a boy could now serve me as a man.
So I started small, just as before. I used my little savings to buy and resell phone accessories. Later, I ventured into bulk purchase of food items, packaging them in smaller quantities for busy families who valued convenience. Every step I took was a reminder of those early days when I learnt how to stretch every naira and never give up on a customer. Slowly, my small business grew into something bigger. My network expanded, my earnings stabilised, and for the first time since graduation, I felt I was living, not merely existing.
The lessons from my childhood trade became my compass. I knew how to negotiate. I knew how to spot opportunities. I understood people’s needs and how to serve them with honesty.
Most importantly, I learnt resilience the ability to stand tall when life threw me to the ground. These were things no classroom had ever taught me, but the market had drilled into me daily.
Today, when people look at my achievements, they often think I had a smooth journey. They see the man I have become, not the boy who ran barefoot through crowded markets, clutching a tray of goods and shouting at the top of his voice to get attention. They see success but not the countless rejections, not the nights I went hungry, and not the mornings I stood outside offices waiting for interviews that never materialised.
If there is one truth my story teaches, it is this: you do not need a job to define your future.
A job is good, but it is not the only path. What you truly need is vision, courage, and the willingness to start with the little in your hands. My childhood entrepreneurship did not just put food on my table when I was young; it built the character that has carried me through life.
I did not become successful by luck or by waiting for the government to rescue me. I became successful because I chose to turn my struggles into strength, my hardships into training, and my childhood hustle into a lifelong skill.