By Usman Abdulkadir Taleeki
This week, I am taking a break from politics and public matters in my column to share a deeply personal account of life in the city. This story is for every young person with ambition, every dreamer trying to find their path, and every individual from a humble background who has ever wondered what it takes to survive and thrive beyond the familiar. It is about the choices we make, the sacrifices we endure, and the lessons we learn when we step into the unknown.
I arrived in Abuja on October 31st last year. By the time of writing this piece, it has been 99 days. Three months and seven days. Time, as I have learned, feels different when you are far from home, trying to build a life that is not yet fully yours. My initial reason for coming was a fellowship programme on investigative reporting. Unlike many others, I was fortunate to have a place to stay, thanks to someone who acted as a father figure. This stability allowed me to focus on the fellowship and to plan for a longer stay in the city. Without it, I might have spent more time worrying about where I would sleep or what I would eat than learning and growing.
During the fellowship, I observed life in the capital in ways I could not have imagined. The city was alive, full of opportunities, bustling streets, and people moving with a purpose I had rarely seen. Networking events, seminars, and casual conversations opened doors that were impossible to access from the confines of my village. I felt a calling: this is where I need to be. I realized that limiting myself to my village had been a costly choice. The environment I had grown up in, while comforting, did not offer the same exposure, resources, or challenges that shape ambition. I made a decision: I would stay in Abuja, not simply to exist, but because the city provides the environment necessary to unlock potential and test endurance. As Plato once said, “The first and best victory is to conquer self. The next is to create an environment that fosters your growth.” For me, this meant embracing discomfort and uncertainty as allies rather than enemies.
Being alone in a new city came with its own trials. There were no relatives to support me, no friends to advise or assist me. Everything was mine to navigate alone. Abuja has its own rhythm and rules that test patience before rewarding ambition. On some days, progress seemed impossible. Tasks that once appeared simple now felt like insurmountable challenges. Small victories began to feel like dead ends, and hope sometimes flickered. There is a saying in Nigerian Pidgin: “Who give, na im fuck up.” But giving up was never an option. Returning to my village meant returning to limitation. I had chosen this path, and I would follow it. Every frustration, every disappointment, became fuel for determination. Struggle itself became a teacher, shaping resilience and character.
I had never done menial labor before. My upbringing never required it, and I had always focused on studies and intellectual pursuits. Yet when every other option to earn a living seemed exhausted, I refused to let pride or discomfort block my journey. Fortunately, construction sites were near where I stayed. I walked to one of them, introduced myself, and asked if I could work. The site manager looked at me in disbelief, probably thinking I was joking. I assured him I was serious, and he told me there was no work at the moment but asked me to check again the next day. The following morning, I returned and was allowed to start.
The work was physically exhausting and at times frightening. Lifting heavy blocks, maneuvering sharp tools, and climbing scaffolding made every day a test of endurance. By the end of each day, my body ached in ways I had never experienced, and my muscles screamed with fatigue. Yet I was paid daily, sometimes 3,500 or 4,000 naira. This was not enough for comfort, but it was enough to survive. Most of my co-workers were Hausa men supporting families far from the capital. Observing their resilience taught me lessons in humility and responsibility. These men carried burdens heavier than mine, yet they labored without complaint, motivated by necessity and the hope of a better future. Their example became a mirror, reflecting the kind of persistence I needed to adopt.
The core lesson I want to convey is this: every young person striving to figure out life will face moments when nothing seems to work. These are moments that define character. They are the moments when giving up feels like the easiest path. Yet it is precisely during these moments that the most important work happens. Resetting, adapting, and persevering are the tools of survival and success. I recently listened to a podcast featuring Saleem Iliyasu Goje, CEO of Danmama Smarthomes. He shared that at one point in Abuja, his greatest fear was seeing the sun set because he had nowhere to sleep. At times, he survived by selling sachet water while continuing to pursue his dream. If he had surrendered to despair, he would never have reached his current achievements. His story reminded me that struggle is not a detour but the path itself.
I remain at the construction site today, still working, still learning. The dream, the target, and the process remain intact. I approach each day with patience and perseverance, understanding that triumph may come today, tomorrow, or after many more trials. Even if ultimate success never comes, I will pursue it fully. Sir Benjamin Elijah Mays, former president of Morehouse College, reminds us, “It is not a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity to die with no dreams.” This idea guides every decision I make in the city.
I close with an excerpt from Theodore Roosevelt, 26th President of the United States, from his 1910 speech Citizenship in a Republic, famously known as “Man in the Arena”:
“It is not the critic who counts, nor the one who points out how the young professional stumbles. The credit belongs to the one actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat, who labors on the construction site, striving to survive and to become, who errs and falls again and again, because no effort is without struggle. Yet, even in the dust and the heat, even when the city seems indifferent, he continues, believing that one day, through sheer persistence, the cost of becoming will be paid.”
This is the story of every young person who chooses effort over comfort, perseverance over despair, and action over inaction. The capital is challenging, demanding, and at times indifferent, yet it is filled with possibility. To survive here, to endure and to grow, is to learn the true cost of becoming. Every drop of sweat, every aching muscle, every uncertainty faced is a payment toward the life one dreams to build.
Abuja Network News
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