As I reminisced on my 20-year career milestone on May 30, 2020, I promised to reveal a secret I had not shared openly before then, except among a few friends. Well, maybe not really a secret but I wanted to tell my story. That story was first published on my X (formerly Twitter) feed in the first week of June 2020. Now, I am sharing it here too.

Growing up had its good side but also had very unpleasant memories for me. I can say I grew up in an upper class family because my dad was the first to have a land phone (those things you dial, back in the day) on our street and my mum was the first woman to own a car around where I lived back then.

It was a blue Datsun 120Y Panel Van. I still have fond memories of my mum taking us to school in that car. It was nicknamed ‘ṣá a l’áàké’ (cut it with an axe) or ‘y’ẹ́rí n bẹ́tọ́’ (literally translated as: excuse me, bend your head so I can spit out). Very funny names.

The former nickname was due to the fact that it required rescuers using an axe to free passengers at the back seat if the car was involved in an accident because there were only two doors. The latter was due to the fact that the passenger at the back seat had to seek the consent of the person in front to spit out of the window as his own side was sealed.

Back to my story. My family experienced a series of unfortunate incidents. I was in JSS 1 when I lost my sister, Bisi. She was five years old. Two years later, I lost another sibling, Bidemi. She was three years old when she died. 

I was in 100 Level as an undergraduate in LAUTECH when I felt the urge to go home. I recall I was washing my clothes one Saturday when I had that urge. I spread the clothes, told my room mates I was travelling and left for Ibadan. I got home to find out that my sibling—my immediate younger brother, Kunle—had died.

He was 17 and in Loyola College preparing for SSCE. They all died of complications from sickle cell disease. I was close to my late brother and challenged by his faith but his death really hurt me. His death tore my family apart. It was the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

From losing siblings to selling my mum’s prized possession, life tested me early. But one decision in 2000 set me on a path of favour. Learn from my story. Share on X

A happy family became a fighting family and due to a lot of ignorance, impatience and misinterventions, my parents came apart. My mum left the house. In those days, anything that went wrong was the fault of the woman and she was either a witch or had a ‘bad‘ leg.

My mum had nowhere to go but I’ll always be grateful to our home church, Christ Apostolic Church, Oniyanrin, Ibadan for taking her in. They allowed her to sleep and live at the Mission House and took care of her. This is one of the reasons I laugh at those who mock the church for perceived failings. Some of us are beneficiaries of the generosity of the church.

After some time, she got a one-room apartment at Saw Mill area, Old Ife Road. I remember shedding tears when I visited her there.

The ceiling was made from cartons of milk. She cooked in that same room and had to open her windows to allow fumes from the kerosene stove go out. I was helpless as I was still an undergraduate. I watched her go from grace to grass.

There was another incident that made me cry. She still had her Datsun Panel Van. She gave it to me to use it for a transport business so I could give her the proceeds. I took the car to Ogbomoso, painted it into a taxi colour and got a driver. I won’t go into the shenanigans of the driver but it turned out that there were very little proceeds. 

This is the story of how my mother’s sacrifice shaped me—and how one act of honour rewrote my future. Share on X

I needed to pay my school fees so my mum asked me to sell the car. It was her most prized possession. I asked a mechanic I thought to be trustworthy—his name is Sunday—to help.

His feedback was that the best price the car could attract was 40k. He played on my desperation and I sold the car for 40k around 1996/97 thereabout. I later found out that he was the one who bought the car.

I gave the 40k to my mum and to my shock, she gave me all the money to pay my outstanding bills and take care of my needs. That night, I prayed to God to please spare my mum and give her a long life. I asked him to preserve me too so I could pay her back. That’s the back story.

So here’s the real meat. When I got my first bank job in May 2020 I was elated. After one month in training school, we were paid 30k. I remember my salary was placed in a white envelope and I was asked to sign to receive it.

We didn’t have staff accounts then as the bank was just being recapitalized—after going moribund for some years. I was among the first set of new hires for the new bank (we were 66 in our set).

I collected my salary and headed from Lagos to Ibadan to see my mum.

When I saw her, I prostrated and thanked her for her sacrifice. I then handed my entire pay of 30k to her. I told her that was my first salary and that it was hers entirely. My mum broke into tears and started praying for me. I felt like Jacob when Isaac finished eating the venison and blessed him. 

If you think honour is old-fashioned, think again. It’s a timeless key to favour, longevity, and success. Here’s how I learned it. Share on X

My mum asked me how I was going to survive that month. I told her not to worry and that all I needed was transport fare. I could take care of the rest as we were being given breakfast and lunch at banking school and I was squatting at a friend’s place at Ikotun. She handed 8k over to me for transport.

Since that day, my life and career have taken a new turn.

If you have a parent, invoke the honour principle. That’s the secret to longevity. Give them a gift that is a real sacrifice to you and let them pray for you. If you don’t have a parent, get a parent figure and do the same. That’s my secret. 

Now, you see why I love Ìyá Bayo.