Ruse

Dreams do come true!

The time is inching towards 11 PM on December 9, 2024, and I find myself compelled to write these words. Let me confess, this late-night writing ritual isn’t my thing. I’d much rather write this newsletter in the morning and send it the morning after the morning after that. But life, as I’ve learned, is rarely neat or predictable. Sometimes, it insists on urgency.

I’ve also learned, thanks to my dear friend Zee, to love even these moments. Zee has drilled into me the importance of mindful confessions: to speak life, hope, and gratitude into being. So here I am, confessing—:)—that dreams do come true. Here’s my story.

A few years ago, I went on an ordinary visit to a friend’s house, a friend whose father, as fate would have it, was a school principal. As usual, the house was cluttered with books. This wasn’t unusual, but that day, those books were destined for the fire.

Among those condemned books, there was one whose front page was gone, the edges frayed and tattered, and it had this unmistakable damp smell of something long forgotten. Funny, the book didn’t even have a title to introduce itself.

Flipping through a few pages, I picked some familiar names (Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Aime Cesaire), and as a recent secondary school graduate, my knowledge of these guys was rudimentary, gathered from the pages of my Literature-in-English textbooks. But I knew enough to be curious. So I did what any book lover would do: I took that nameless, battered book home.

A few years later as an undergraduate at Wukari, I would learn that that book was an issue of...Black Orpheus.

Founded in 1957, Black Orpheus was where giants like Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Gabriel Okara, Léopold Senghor, and others found their footing and their audience. Fast forward to today, and I am honored to share that I have been selected as one of six fellows for the inaugural Archivi.ng Fellowship!

Beginning January 2025 and lasting six months, I will embark on a journey to document the history and legacy of Black Orpheus.

The fellowship comes with incredible support including a monthly stipend to cover logistics and production, mentorship from seasoned professionals, and access to relevant archives.

I am happy. And filled with gratitude. Gratitude to the Archivi.ng team for believing in this project and for giving me the tools to bring it to life. Gratitude to the writers, editors, and thinkers who built Black Orpheus. And gratitude to that younger version of myself, who saw something in that tattered book and chose to save it.

Lesson: Dreams do come true. And sometimes, they begin in the most unexpected places.

You have the people!

I had neither anticipated nor fully prepared for that journey. My departure was imminent, yet all the usual routes from Jos, the ones that felt more familiar and closer, were unavailable. Left with no other choice, I had to touch Lagos. Through Yola.

I had never been there before and had no personal connections, or so I thought. However, a phone call to a friend changed everything. He was not even in Yola at the time. Yet, within minutes, my thoughts of being stranded melted away. We listen, we don't judge, yeah? Good. Here: I get very unusually nervous whenever I am visiting a place for the first time! Almost to a point of stupidity.

He linked me with someone I had never met, a resident of Yola who recommended a nice hotel and also provided directions I'd be needing the following morning.

The feeling of isolation is a peculiar thing. We often believe we are alone, left to our own devices, until a challenge arises and forces us to tap into the web of relationships, networks, and resources we never knew existed.? Once the situation demands it, the web reveals itself.

We live in an era that touts connectivity. Social media, messaging apps, and the internet create the illusion of an interconnected world. But true connection is the kind that solves problems, eases burdens, and strengthens relationships. The truth is, we are more connected than we think, not just through technology but through people. Behind every social media profile, every phone number, there is a real person.

How many times have you scrolled through your contact list, seeing names that feel irrelevant at the moment? Yet, when a specific need arises, that one name becomes the linchpin to solving your dilemma.

Lesson: The connection is always there, but the situation brings it to life.

Moooving...

Stepping into Lagos for the first time is like entering a lively, chaotic theater production without a script.

Okay, I agree, moving, as a concept, is generally like that: rarely just physical; a confrontation; a dialogue between the self and the new environment. But you see this Lagos thingy? It's a whole class. For one, Lagos does not ‘introduce’ itself. It grabs you by the collar and throws you into its reality, which is hot, chaotic, and electric. In Jos, the cool breezes and slower pace had spoiled me, then Lagos found a way of reminding me of my allegiance to temperate weather.

By my second night, I was holding two one-liter bottles of water, battling dehydration. Lagos taught me one of my most enduring lessons about moving: never, ever make it obvious where you’re from, particularly when complaining. My habitual grumbling about Lagos’ heat was met with nods of understanding so performative they should have won an Oscar (“Ah, Jos boy!). But mehhhhn, looking back, I cringe at how often I pointed out the temperature disparity. It was a rookie mistake.

Lagos traffic? May sound cliché, but...Lord! I thought traffic jams were inconveniences. In Lagos, they are existential crises. I learned quickly that you don’t “go out” in Lagos; you embark on a journey amidst car horns and vendors selling everything from plantains to phone chargers and condoms mid-gridlock. ?My cab guy on my departure told me something along the line of, “Traffic is like a bad marriage. You don’t fight it; you navigate it.”?

One would think that moving broadens our horizons, and yes, it does. But it also magnifies our limitations. Lagos did not merely show me a new world; it reflected my old one back to me in disgustingly unflattering detail. It’s ironic, really.

Lesson: We move, expecting to escape certain things, only to find them amplified.

Building a Dream Team

When I first arrived in Lagos last week for the onboarding activities of the Archivi.ng Fellowship, I had no idea who or what type of team I was expecting. On different occasions at different times, I'd met teams who acted like I was the only thing stopping them from enjoying a honeymoon with their high school lover after finally getting married. I'd also met teams who seemed to be asking, "How far? You sure say you no go leave before that Friday?" Then there have also been others who were quite frankly receptive, but seemed to be fighting among themselves and only paused pending my departure then they'd pick up from where they stopped. So when I arrived Lagos, I'd braced myself for any type of team I'd find.?

Then Archivi.ng added to my portfolio of experience: a league of extraordinary individuals united by a mission to save history from the apocalypse. Dramatic? Maybe.

If you have ever read corporate self-help books or sat through a “team-building” seminar, you’ve probably heard the clichés: “Teamwork makes the dream work!” or “There’s no ‘I’ in team.” As true as those platitudes are, they rarely capture the magic of seeing real teamwork in action. ? From the moment we walked into that room, the team at the Archivi.ng made it clear that they were not just a group, but a system where person played their part.?The reception alone was enough to win me over. I mean, how often do you encounter a team so intentional about the little things? Esther asked me if I had packed everything I needed, including a toothbrush! Lord knows how many times I got asked/double-checked on if I’d eaten. Then there was the 'How do you feel about your hotel?' question.

Now, if you’ve ever stood in front of a group to pitch an idea, you’ll know it can feel like auditioning for “America’s Got Talent” without a guaranteed audience cheer. But this team? They were the best judges you could ask for: supportive, insightful, and genuinely interested.? They met each pitch with thoughtful feedback, not the kind that feels like a formality but the kind that shows they had listened, really listened.

And when the final day arrived, leading into our departures, it didn’t feel like an ending. They checked in, followed up, and even after I returned to Jos, there was Fu'ad asking me, "So, how was your stay in Lagos? Hope you enjoyed it?"

So, what makes a team like this tick? Great hiring practices, excellent training, yes. But it’s more than that.

1. Purpose: Everyone on the team was driven by a shared goal to preserve history.
2. People: They didn’t just put warm bodies in chairs; they assembled a crew of experts. And , did they complement one another!
3. Passion: You could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices.?

Would I want to work with this team full-time? Absolutely. And if they ever post a “We’re hiring” announcement, I’ll be the first to apply.

To the Archivi.ng team: thank you for the welcome. You have set the bar impossibly high!

Lesson: People don’t just follow leaders; they follow purpose

You sef, calm down!

I recently found myself in such a scenario. A consequential folder that could determine whether I stayed on the job or was thrown out seemed to have vanished. I had been tasked with transferring the files to a shared system and deleting the originals, a routine task I had completed countless times before. Yet, when the time came to locate them, I drew a blank. ? Days turned into weeks of quiet panic. I searched high and low, combed through every corner of my devices, and replayed the sequence of events in my mind incessantly. Each interaction with my boss only made matters worse where I thought he'd go, "Shalom, bring those files."

In the end, you know where those files were stored? On my boss's laptop all along, precisely where they needed to be. ? This experience taught me a valuable lesson: overthinking does not prevent disaster. It merely magnifies our stress and blinds us to practical solutions. ?

Overthinking often stems from the belief that we can control every outcome. When faced with uncertainty, we obsess over hypothetical scenarios, mistakenly equating worry with preparedness. The modern workplace places a premium on perfection. Mistakes, no matter how minor, can feel catastrophic, and it is this fear that pushes us to overanalyze and double-guess every decision. When the stakes appear high, overthinking becomes a default reaction. We believe that our mental exertion will somehow safeguard us against unfavorable outcomes.

While overthinking may feel productive, it often has the opposite effect. Overthinking can lead to indecision. The more we analyze, the harder it becomes to act. Hours spent dwelling on hypotheticals could be better spent addressing real issues. Or simply resting.

Lesson: Sometimes, the best course of action is no action at all.? Problems, much like knots, often loosen with time and the right perspective. ?

Whatever you need to do a good job...

Success in any professional setting relies heavily on the resources we have at our disposal. However, just having these resources isn’t enough; it’s how we use them that makes the difference.

Professionals need to find a balance between being cautious with resources and being bold enough to invest where it counts, always weighing the costs against the potential benefits. The goal is not just to meet expectations but to exceed them. So. Use what you have, strategically and creatively, to produce results that you want.?

Lesson: Push beyond limitations, strive for excellence, regardless of the obstacles in the way.

But God Knows Everything. He Knows Everyone. He Sees Everything

It’s not unusual to find ourselves wondering if anyone is truly listening, if anyone truly sees us. Many of us yearn for the comfort of knowing that there is someone, something, out there that understands us deeply. God. He knows everyone. He sees everything.

For many believers, the idea of God knowing and seeing everything offers a sense of safety. It’s a reassurance that no matter how lost or confused we may feel, there’s a greater power, a presence that sees beyond the surface and into the very depths of our souls. In a world that often feels superficial, where judgment seems to come easily, the belief that God knows us fully and unconditionally offers solace.

But what does it really mean for us, as human beings, to live under the awareness of a being who sees and knows everything? For believers, it means that we are always seen, always observed by God’s all-knowing presence. This can create a sense of accountability and realization that our actions, even the smallest ones, have significance. If someone is always watching, does it change the way we behave? Perhaps, at first glance, it seems a bit unsettling. But the truth is, many of us live with some level of awareness that we are being watched: by our parents, teachers, mentors, colleagues, or even friends. So...

Lesson: We all desire to be known for who we are, flaws and all, and to be loved not in spite of them but because of them.

Until next time,

Shalom Kasim

#K