Abiku
is a Yoruba word which means predestined to die. The word describes children
who die shortly after birth. The death could occur anywhere between a few hours
after birth to a year on. Families plagued with the spell of abiku or spirit-child often go through
successive episodes of burying their babies before they have a child who finally stays. Indeed,
surviving children are christened with names such as Durojaiye or Durotimi,
which denote staying alive. The advent of medical science has however revealed
that genetic and congenital factors, not some cosmic mysteries, are responsible
for infant mortality. Parents are now aware of infant-exterminators like
genotype incompatibility, malaria and other immunizable diseases; hence the
fading of abiku from the Yoruba
vocabulary. But, I need to resurrect the word.
I
am not using the word in the post-natal sense, though. Instead, I want to
introduce you to Abiku businesses; businesses predestined to die. Thankfully,
corporate law has laid out the ‘personality’ of business entities, so I can safely
use the word ‘die’. It is commonly said that 4 out of 5 Nigerian startups will
cease to exist after the fifth year, but that is not my headache; we can chalk
that to Darwin’s ‘survival of the fittest’. My pain is what becomes of the one
surviving business. You see, after years of dreaming about a business, after hours
of toiling to set it up, after navigating the treacherous economic terrain of
this country and after surviving beyond the proverbial fifth-year of demise,
shouldn't these businesses have come into their own?
Ask
yourself, “How many of the businesses you saw on your way to
school still exist today?” And of those that exist, aren't they worse off than back then? Where is the woman’s shop where you used to buy sobo and puff-puff? The
pharmacy where mum used to buy anti-malarial when you had fever, where is it
today? The biscuit you used to eat at lunch-break and toothpaste you brushed
with as a child, are they the ones your children use? Do you service your car
where your parents did or employ the same plumbing business as they did? All around
me, I see a burial-ground of my childhood-day businesses. The rest are in the
ICU, about to join the ranks of the forgotten abiku.
Organizations
in Nigeria don’t attain Silver Jubilees or Golden Jubilees, except they are
government establishments, religious places of worship, or listed companies.
No, scratch that! Many unlisted businesses run by foreigners do too! What we
like to call Korah businesses
(unlisted companies run by Indians, Lebanese and Chinese etc.) which have been
in existence before I was born are still standing and doing very well. These
brilliant folks who supposedly don’t know the terrain, language or the connections
that we citizens do, come here and beat us to the game. When coming here it is
neither with truckloads of money nor post-graduates from the UK or USA – the
excuses we often advance for not going into business. But a few years later,
they are showing Nigerians, with both money and college degrees, how to run
things.
Please,
let me be clear here that I am not against non-Nigerians owning or running businesses
in the country nor am I canvassing for the crazy indigenization policies of the
Shagari-era. Far from it! I am not xenophobic, the syndrome I’m suffering from
is called failure-phobia. I would rather they keep sustaining our
unlisted-company sector than leave it to us, which in turn will lead to a loss
of livelihood for hundreds of thousand Nigerians. Half a loaf, even it is baked
by non-Nigerians, is heaven than none. What I am tired of is my folks not
borrowing a leaf from those who have found a cure to the abiku business. Their staying
businesses exist in the same environment buffeted by insecurity, erratic electricity,
crater-ridden roads, corrupt bureaucracy and anaesthetized judiciary as
indigenous businesses. Yet, their performance is stellar where ours remain as
forgettable as the last blink.
First,
let’s acknowledge that they know some things in building staying business which we need to learn, then set out to find out
what they are. Read my post next Saturday, as I dig into some of these secrets.
why the suspense uncle Segun....really salivating for the part II. Kudos,good one sir
ReplyDeleteHahaha. Ayo, thanks for your comment. The suspense is to get you thinking about why our businesses don't last, and if anything crosses your mind, you could drop it as a comment.
ReplyDeleteThanks
We can still see some family business that has passed the stage of abiku....although the percentage is too small.
ReplyDeleteYes Ayo, there are some but like you pointed out, they are too few.
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ReplyDeleteI think this is due to our inability to establish strong family businesses which can stand for years. Most of the businesses that have celebrated silver or golden jubilee are own by families. I think we should encourage and involve our children in whatever business/idea we embarked on, if just one child queue in and maintain the culture, abiku biz will be forgotten like abiku child.
ReplyDelete