He doesn’t even know it, but Naira Marley is a cult leader. All of a sudden, there’s an army of Nigerians all over the world calling themselves Marlians. They follow the philosophy of the Great One aka Afeez Fashola, who is only 25 years old. Their doctrine, it appears, is smoke a bouyant amount of weed, rage against the authorities, have a lot of sex, and secure the bag aka naira.
“There’s nothing we won’t see in this world,” they said. “This small girl of yesterday is our CEO. What does she even know?” The staff didn’t like it when her dad brought her to run the company. Some of them are as old as her grandfather. They knew her when she was a little girl and used to run around the office in diapers. Now, she’s their boss.
I’m deeply honoured to be named to the grand jury of the New York Festivals Advertising Awards. Which is a super big deal.
She’d warned me again and again about my extreme reliance on cashless banking. Did I listen? No. Then one day, we went to the cinema to see John Wick 3. I got to the till. whipped out my Zenith Bank card, gave it to the box office lady. She shook her head. “Cash only. Sorry, POS not working.”
Do you remember, or are you old enough to remember, when LG launched its home appliances in Nigeria? I can tell you I don’t. I just know that all of a sudden, LG was just all up in my face.
The truth of the matter is, nobody knows. Yet, at every forum where people rack their brains about how to sanitise the industry, as more and more ad agencies spring up in backpacks across Nigeria, people keep bringing up the idea of mergers and acquisitions.
The boy said to me: somethingsomethingsomething. I can’t remember exactly what he said but it was rude as hell. My perfect comeback would have been: “Are you being rude on purpose or were you born that way?” But I didn’t say that to him. I let it pass. This year, 2016, was the year I learnt street-level humility. On purpose. Humility is exhilarating. It makes you feel less superior and more understanding. Empathising. Speaking with