You need others

It might be yours to carry, but it’s not yours to complete alone. You need others.

I often feel like a “one-man army”, doing things independently without anyone’s input. Foolish, isn’t it? Because even the things I believe I’ve done by myself carry traces of others’ contributions, directly or indirectly.

Take something as simple as bathing: Someone had to invent the idea of a bucket or create soap and towels. Nothing we do is truly isolated.

The world is designed for interdependence.

Even the Creator, we, Christians believe, exists in community; as the Father, the Word, and the Spirit. It makes sense, then, that we are wired to need one another.

A few days ago, I published a story that profoundly brought this truth home.

It was about Leah Sharibu, a young Nigerian woman abducted from her school dormitory in the country’s North East alongside over 100 schoolmates. Yes, over 100 human beings, not ants, were taken, and no one stopped them. That’s Nigeria for you.

Five of the girls died of suffocation while being transported. In the end, 104 were released—except Leah. Her schoolmates said she refused to renounce her Christian faith, and that was why she was held back by the insurgents.

Seven years have passed. She’s still not home. She’s been all but forgotten in public discourse. Even the government seems to have moved on.

But injustice gets louder when we go silent.

Let me take you behind the scenes of how that story came to life—and went viral.

I was having a random chat with a friend when she mentioned that Leah’s younger, and only sibling, Donald, was her friend and schoolmate. That caught my attention. I wasn’t even that familiar with Leah’s story at the time, and I typically avoid turning casual conversations into work.

But this one felt different. I told her it would be powerful to hear from Donald, to learn about what the past seven years had been like for him and his family. It was good timing. The anniversary of the abduction had just passed. Her birthday was coming up.

She agreed to reach out to Donald, and he was open to talking. I planned to pitch the story to my managing editor, but she was on leave and told me to go straight to the editor-in-chief (EiC), who knows quite a lot about insurgency in Africa.

I mentioned to him my access to Donald and the possibility of doing a story on Leah. My EiC immediately asked if I had new information. Apparently, he had been the source of many previous insights and images of Leah since she went into captivity. He could tell how little I knew, especially when I said Donald was her older brother. “Leah doesn’t have an elder brother,” he said. I quickly texted my friend to confirm. She agreed.

Since there wasn’t new intel, he suggested a different angle: What if we imagined the life Leah could have lived if she hadn’t been abducted? It was a brilliant shift in perspective.

I was ready to start, but Donald got cold feet. But my friend, again, stepped in. She coincidentally travelled to where he was and helped him understand why the story mattered. Eventually, he agreed.

This artwork, Comforter, which I photographed at the Yemisi Shyllon Museum of Art, shows a worried mother being comforted by her son; it speaks to our theme for today.

We spoke over WhatsApp one Sunday. I interviewed him and wrote the draft in less than 10 hours. But the story wasn’t mine alone.

It went through multiple rounds of editing. Each editor shaped it. My EiC, again, added depth: “Let’s hear from a psychologist. Let’s consider Leah’s mental health after seven years. Let’s explore the possibility of Stockholm syndrome.” I had never really looked into it before.

When it was published last Wednesday, it resonated with several people. Senior journalists messaged me. One reader said they sobbed on the bus while reading it. It spread far, it went viral. I got so many heartfelt comments.

One of those comments.

You can read it here: What Life Could Have Been for Leah Sharibu at 22

I can easily claim it’s a “one-man army” achievement. But is it? No!

It took a village to help me see perspectives that I wasn’t even aware of. Being humble to listen, learn and implement led to something beautiful.

Behind every byline is a network. Behind every compelling narrative is a chorus of voices, friends, editors, mentors, and interviewees.

We live in a world that glorifies self-made success. But the real impact is rarely individual. It is built on shoulders, shared in rooms, sharpened by feedback, and lifted by trust.

You can’t do it alone. And that’s the point.

The thing you’re working on, the dream, the fight, the story, might be yours to carry, but it’s not yours to complete alone. You need others. You need listening ears, outside eyes, and honest voices. You need courage, yes, but also humility to listen. Always!

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🍿 Things that I have enjoyed recently:

📺 Netflix’s Director of Content for Africa, Dorothy Ghettuba Pala, recently shared a heartfelt conversation on burnout in the pursuit of excellence. It’s about 30 minutes long, just enough time for a walk or a quiet moment, but packed with wisdom. If you ever feel like you’re pushing too hard, this is a gentle reminder to pause. Listen when you can, and let me know what resonates with you.

🎞️ I binge-watched Unseen. It follows a woman on a quest for justice, working alone and making tough (sometimes wrong) choices. But what struck me most was the recurring lesson: you can’t do it alone. Every misstep brought her closer to the realisation that we need people, even in the fight for what’s right. Gripping and deeply human.

📝 A Nigerian journalist recently published a beautiful piece about losing her voice after moving to the U.S. for a postgraduate journalism fellowship. It’s a quiet, powerful reflection on identity, confidence, and the slow work of rediscovery in unfamiliar terrain.