THOUGH my back was hurting and my eyes were smarting, I was feeling cool, proud, as I watched the richest African on planet earth, because he is a Nigerian. Because he is Aliko Dangote, a Nigerian, and I am a Nigerian. I struggled to keep my eyes from watering from inadequate sleep, I followed him with my eyes, this Nigerian who has made us proud at home and abroad.
Everybody was in good spirit but me, I was in better spirit. I am related to the celebrator. I am a relative of the richest black man in the world.
Isn’t this a testimony that Nigeria is a great country of great men, that not all news about us is bad news? Isn’t this man the ultimate proof that Nigeria, my country can be all she wants and can be if she just stays focussed and does what she needs to do consistently, unwaveringly? It took Dangote 30 years, a single man single-minded about his purpose and vision. It ought to have taken Nigeria less time to cover more distance. So, why are we where we are 55 years down the road, and sliding down the slope? All that going on in my head had the potential to depress me, so I jolted myself back to the present, took a sip from the cold glass of coca (that’s what they call coca cola in Tanzania). Oh sorry, I didn’t tell you where are all this took place. It was in Mtwara, Tanzania, where I’d been invited to witness the commissioning of not just another Dangote Cement plant but the largest one in Central and East Africa.
He continued to acknowledge pleasantries, thanking each person for making out time to be part of the $600m event. Yes, that was how much the plant gulped. He had a smile for everybody and he should too, this my relative has done well for himself and all of us. He is the good thing that has come out of our Nazareth, the only one I was celebrating that hot afternoon in Tanzania. More thoughts ran around my brain.
Nobody could have known that that little boy screaming as his mother made the last ‘push’ was going to become this multi-billionaire we are celebrating today. Who would have known that the little boy who crawled all over the house, kept his mother up all night because he was sprouting his first set of tiny teeth would become this icon. Like the babies next door, he did what babies do but he wasn’t destined to be lost in the crowd. The nurses may not have recognised Aliko as they gently pulled him out of his mother but the heavens knew a star had been born that 10th day of April 1957. God chose Kano as the birthplace of this billionaire.
But the movement from Boy Aliko to Aliko Dangote itself is a lesson, a manual on how to be who you can be, how to see opportunities where others see risks, how to turn closed doors into not just wide passages but six-lane roads. Aliko, the primary school boy bought sweets and biscuits in packets and sold to his classmates. I can imagine him in his khaki shorts, maybe blue shirts, stuffing packets of ‘Nico sweets’ into his portmanteau. But Aliko didn’t mind the extra load or the extra work. He found space to accommodate his ‘little company’ in between arithmetic lessons and civics home work. Smart guy, he found a way to make his age mates part with money. He knew all children love sweets and keyed into it. He was a small boy starting small and making small money . But he made consistent small money consistently until he became a big boy, a big man and then in 2008 he was named the richest black man. And then in faraway Mtwara, Tanzania, on October 10, 2015, the President of the United Republic of Tanzania, Dr. Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete, joined us, Dangote’s relatives, to commission a three-million-metric ton-per-annum cement plant and ground-breaking ceremony for 25 hectares of jetty land at Mgao village, all within Mtwara district, a $600m investment. Hmmmm, from selling Nico sweets to $600m; Oh God, open our eyes to the opportunities around us as individuals and as a nation.
That is what staying focussed and not letting the ball fall, no matter the challenges, bring. But Dangote didn’t get to this enviable height overnight. He started at the bottom of the ladder, climbing slowly but steadily. His road was not always smooth but he saw every rough patch as a stepping stone. And he kept climbing. Something most of us are allergic to. We mostly like to arrive overnight. In fact, many who pride themselves as businessmen want easy money and would really rather start at the top of the ladder. Someone told me years ago that the only thing you build from the top is a grave. Could be the reason why those who make fast money at the top end up at the bottom.
In Dangote’s own words:
‘I built a conglomerate and emerged the richest black man in the world in 2008 but it didn’t happen overnight. It took me 30 years to get to where I am today. Youths of today aspire to be like me but they want to achieve it overnight. It’s not going to work. To build a successful business, you must start small and dream big. In the journey of entrepreneurship, tenacity of purpose is supreme.’
And small he started with his packets of sweets for his peers with sweet teeth. Then he became a commodity trader. Soon he was refining sugar. He kept climbing until he built his first cement plant.T hen he built one in Cameroon, another in Ethiopia, Zambia and then the big one in Tanzania. He’s got his fingers now on the petroleum product refining pie. In the next few months, he will be commissioning Dangote Cement in Senegal and South Africa. Is your head swelling like mine? This is the real Nigerian brand, not because of all that billions but because of the lessons buried in the life of the ‘Nico sweets boy’ who became a billionaire.
Imagine if Nigeria starts seeing the opportunities strewn all over the length and breadth of this country. Imagine this nation starting small and growing. For instance, fruits and vegetables grow everywhere in this country. Doesn’t Dangote have a tomato paste factory now in Kano? Him again, smarter again than a whole nation climate ! See the way he’s setting up cement plants everywhere he sees or smells limestone. Yet we have everything; good climate, rich soil, but we are poor because we refuse to build from scratch or start small. Our rich men hide their billions because they made it sinfully, but if you ask me, it’s a worse sin to hide your sinful wealth in Cayman Islands when you can start a pepper-canning factor or establish bitumen plants. And take thousands of Nigerians off the labour market.
When will Nigeria start utilizing what God deposited all over the country? Everything we need is hidden in plain sight but we are blind or foolhardy or plain lazy or all of the above. Of the Tanzanian plant, Dangote said:
‘The construction sector is a major emergent component of the Tanzanian economy that has been receiving the attention of investors. This makes it an ideal market for cement production. The existing cement manufacturers have historically been unable to satisfy local demand, which has been filled by imports. As essential economy-driven infrastructure continues to be built to improve electricity supply and the transport network, additional demand for cement can be expected…’
Another opportunity, another plant and Dangote has become a reference point for hard work and a definition of how to turn every opportunity into money. It is what I call the audacity of one man to do something extra, go a bit further than the extra mile and mine wealth everywhere.
Commissioning over, we headed back to our chartered flight. It was past 7.00pm Tanzanian time, 9.00pm in Nigeria. I was tired but inspired, proud to be a Nigerian, happy to reconnect with my long lost ‘uncles’. As I settled in my seat, suddenly, the plane erupted in applause. People got out of their seats to clap. It was our host, Aliko Dangote, there just in time to thank us for making the trip. He went from seat to seat. He looked very tired but his smile didn’t slip. I was still wondering how it must feel to be Dangote when the Captain’s voice interrupted my wandering mind. Soon the plain lifted off on the five-hour-twenty-minutes flight back home.
SUN
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