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I have an army in Sweden. It’s strange, I know.?When did I become a warlord? Let me tell you all about it:

Several months ago, when I first set foot in Gothenburg for work, my plan was pretty simple: Get in, do my job, and get out before they learned my last name. It was a new and strange city and to be honest, I worried as to whether I'd fit in at all.

But it didn’t take me long before I realized that the city had embraced me tightly and would not let me go easily. It is the warmth of the people that I met which kept me sane through the winter chill that welcomed me. At 沃尔沃汽车 I met a great team in the IPDS division and genuinely enjoyed my job. There was a sense of community here, which soon began to feel like home, mirroring the strong social ties that define Kenyan villages. After the first couple of months, I was not eager to leave anymore. At the risk of sounding whimsical and hopelessly romantic, I’m not afraid to admit that I did, indeed, fall in love with Gothenburg.

And so, I made a proposition to my employer. Something along the lines of being good at my job and wanting a permanent contract. From my perspective, this made sense. I had not merely excelled at coding tasks, but my background in journalism had been a bonus. I had penned engaging articles for the Life at Volvo blog (edited by the iridescent Wei Wang ) and now, the company's intranet was no longer just about Eurovision scores or how many meatballs one could devour during a fika break. My work had injected fresh narratives into the daily routine, fostering connections beyond the realm of code and cars, and I was formulating a goal of ultimately enhancing the company's internal culture.

The news came one chilly spring morning. Volvo Cars had decided to lay off 1,300 employees in Sweden and was effectively freezing all contract negotiations and hiring. It was at this moment when, like the Avengers, my army started to assemble. The odds were tough: Gothenburg's biggest Software Engineering employers were downsizing, and people were preparing to break for the summer. They take their summer breaks here even more seriously than their Eurovision.

People I had interacted with, albeit briefly, sprang into action without me even lifting a finger. The General Commander was my manager, H?kan Sterner , who promised to move mountains to ensure I get to stay in Gothenburg. Together with Harikrishnan GR at HCLTech , these two gentlemen went out of their way to make phone calls, write emails and negotiate with whoever would give them an ear. For their efforts, I’ll be eternally grateful.

I nearly teared up when the people I had worked directly under refused to let me go without a fight. My Scrum Master, Vishal Goyal , and the Product Owner of my team, J?rgen Johansson , decided to wrestle the system like it was a stubborn IKEA flat-pack furniture assembly. Until then I had been plagued by imposter syndrome concerning my technical expertise, but seeing my team leaders root for me validated my skills and gave me great comfort.

But what humbled me, even more, was the faith bestowed upon me by other Volvo employees and friends under whom I had not even worked. Assigning herself the role of Lieutenant General was Carol Bigelow , a DevOps Team Manager whom I met by a stroke of luck one snowy morning as I struggled to find my way to my office in Torslanda. Carol not only ensured that I settled comfortably in Sweden but signed up to be my career mentor as well. It was, therefore, no surprise when, several fikas later, Carol flat out refused to accept that I might be leaving Gothenburg so soon. She ensured that everyone she knew in high places got a copy of my resume. I award her the Gold Star for her valor.

The Brigadier General was a CyberSec guru at Capgemini Engineering , the soft-spoken but eloquent Michael Adesoba . Nigerians and Kenyans have always had a camaraderie that’s effortless and needs no translation. The first time I sat down with my West African brother over lunch, I instantly felt a kindred connection and a shared wavelength that turned our conversation, originally scheduled for minutes, into hours. My inbox is filled with scores of emails whose subject lines start with “Michael Adesoba Referred You to this Position…” E se pupo, ara mi.

In the midst of the Swedish charm, there was a moment when my heart ached for the warmth of Kenya – the conversations in Swahili, the shared jokes about “Bottom-up”, a taste of ugali and nyama choma. Just when homesickness threatened to cloud my spirit, I discovered the Kenyan community in Gothenburg. The community’s patriarch, Avanade 's Brigadier Lieutenant Colonel Captain Major General Michael Mwera , takes all the elite titles in my army for good reason. Michael has spent whole days (literally) refining my resume and leveraging his 20+ years of industry experience to call up contacts in Sweden and order them to give me a contract or else. It brings a warm flush to my cheeks when I’m told about the way he talks about me to his contacts; Fredrik Thorin can attest. Michael has not only opened wide his calendar and phonebook for me, but also his home. Michael, if you’re reading this, wewe ni shujaa.

I’ve always wondered why Lisa Hallvin hired me in the first place. Going by the friendship we have since forged here in Volvo and how much she has pushed my name to people and places I could only dream of, I now know her decision was not a fluke. Lisa has ensured my visibility with the Volvo Cars organization and kept my name on the lips of my bosses’ bosses’ bosses. If a genie were to grant me three wishes, I’d certainly wish to work under Lisa again, right after requesting a billion dollars and three more wishes of course ??. She wins the Medal of Honour.

Nothing is more humbling than the feeling you get when other people speak highly of you even when you are not in the room. That’s what my Sergeants, Michael Ndirangu , Nyambura Muhia (those prayers really kept me going) Tom Kamande , Jerry S. (the emails you write to your contacts about me make me blush) Evans Mwangi Njoki , Emelie Jonazon , and Maria-Cristina C. have been doing. It is a long list, and I have inevitably left out more than a few names.

The knowledge that others think so highly of you that they might go to war in your name brings a profound sense of validation. It assures you that your efforts, kindness, and authenticity have not been in vain. It's like seeing your own reflection in the mirror of society and finding that the image looking back is one that you can be proud of. For me, it feels like my connections in this Nordic city have collectively decided to award me an invisible medal of honor pinned not on my chest, but on my spirit in recognition of the impression I’ve made in their lives.

The crazy thing is, I knew none of these people just 5 months ago. Surreal, right? And when I met each one of them, I had no idea that a day might come when they’ll have to go to war on my behalf. I was just making friends with people whose company I enjoyed.

Let's continue to build these armies for each other, I’ll march and fight for you too if you need an army. If you have had similar experiences or just want to share your thoughts, please leave a comment below.

I don’t know what the future holds for me and my career. For now, all I can do is keep an optimistic spirit, make more friends, and hope I never have to explain to NATO why I keep referring to my colleagues as generals and sergeants!