Not long after that, my mum became pregnant (with me), then, eighteen months later, my younger sister decided to join the party. My dad graduated with his printing technology degree and began working at a boutique publishing firm. Mum got whatever work she could, while raising two small children. But they made it work, and I have happy memories of those early days.
Then, when I was six years old, my dad was deported.
It came as a total shock. One night there was a frantic knocking at the door and a team of policemen came through the house to find my dad, before taking him away like a thief in the night. I can still clearly picture my mum sitting on the stairs pleading to deaf ears, while my sister and I sobbed. We didn’t know that it would take another six years, a court case, and much sweat and tears until our father would be back with us.
Now I’m older, I understand what happened. My dad was essentially an illegal immigrant: he had outstayed his student visa and was working, but he hadn’t applied for permanent residency. It was a mistake that caused a lot of pain, but that ultimately made us all a lot more resilient, as I’ll explain.
Learning to hustle
Now, with Dad gone, we were on our own. When I think back on it, my mum could have let what had happened break her, but she didn’t. She’s about five foot, with a huge smile and doll-like eyes, completely ‘butter wouldn’t melt’. But, let me tell you, she’s a force to be reckoned with: the most amazing example of hustle and heart.
Back then, Mum worked as a cleaner. From offices to trains, she put in the shifts, getting up in the early hours for 5 a.m. starts on some days, and trudging home after 10 p.m. finishes on others. And, while we were at primary school, my sister and I learned to put in the shifts, too. I suspect this might be considered very illegal nowadays. However, when you don’t have an option, sometimes you just do what you have to. Because Dad had been deported, my sister and I had to go everywhere with our mum, as she really wanted to avoid leaving us home alone.
So, at four o’ clock in the morning, with sleep in our eyes and our school uniforms already on, the two of us would often go with Mum to clean offices in London. My sister and I would vacuum, wash the dishes and wipe down the surfaces – we weren’t very big, but we were strong. We would put in the work then, after we had locked up the offices, Mum would take us to school. This, of course, was a secret, and somehow (maybe it was Mum’s stern looks) we knew that that part of our lives wasn’t meant to be known. We’d already had an experience with the authorities and, deep down, I think we were scared that they might take our mum away like they had our dad. So we kept quiet about this part of our lives, playing at school just like all the other children.
Over the following years, I watched my mum elevate herself. She had a secondary school education and not much else, but while she still worked as a cleaner, she also began training as a nurse. She would read and study when she could and, in between her shifts and training, rustle up meals for my sister and me. Somehow Mum knew how to make a meal using basic ingredients like corned beef and packet noodles taste gourmet. Though we never had a lot in terms of material things, we never felt we lacked. There was so much love that we always felt comfortable.
Meanwhile, we were moving from council house to council house. To be honest, these places weren’t great. The three of us dealt with racists, being attacked by a neighbour’s dog, and the day-to-day struggle of living in what were just downright dodgy locations. Eventually, in a huge stroke of fortune, the council housed us in a lovely two-bedroom flat with carpets, freshly painted walls and even a new bunk bed that my sister and I could share. Our neighbours were relatively normal – in fact, some of them were even nice! We felt that things were on the up in our world.
At the same time, I know it was far from easy for my mum. During that time, we’d speak to Dad every week on the phone, and we visited Nigeria twice to see him while the court case was under way to try to bring him back. For years, this placed huge pressure on Mum, who just wanted to have her husband home. Since she was now working as a nurse, doing all the shifts she could, my sister and I were often at home alone. There were a few things we always knew we mustn’t do – instructions drilled into us to keep us safe. Above all, we knew not to open the door or the curtains.
And yet, Mum turned it around. Because while she was busy working all those hours, she was also saving. Eventually, she got together enough money to be able to buy the flat we were now living in off the council for £17,000 (this was in 1997). I remember the number clearly: she was rightly proud and let my sister and me know. We felt like millionaires, to own our home. Years later, after the property market went crazy, she was able to sell that flat for £250,000! Off the back of that, she bought our next home and decided to learn how to invest in property. It wasn’t long before she had created her own property portfolio. With more than ten properties under her belt in seven years, she was able to become self-employed and set herself and her family up for the future. She had grinded – that’s the only word for it! – her way to success.
I was in secondary school by the time Dad returned. I don’t know why it took so long, but I remember being at court when the authorities finally ruled on his case. The judge said, ‘I can’t see why this man is not allowed to be with his wife and two children.’ The upshot was that he was given permission to come back, permanently. Finally, we had our dad home. It had been a long journey. But despite that setback, my dad had continued to develop himself while he was out of the country. After getting his printing degree, he had even published some non-fiction books. On his return to the UK, things had changed significantly in that world, so he went on to study law and work within the immigration services – the irony! (I draw qualities from both parents: my dad’s more academic, whereas my mum’s a hustler. Put it together and you get me, in the middle.)
The blueprint for my success
Despite things often being difficult, I can’t regret the lessons of those tough years. Through all my childhood experiences, I had been learning something that has shaped the path of my whole life: that it’s within your own power to change your situation. Mum showed me, through her example, that what you expect of yourself is usually what you will achieve. Her limitations and the circumstances of her life were mere obstacles to work around – it wasn’t so much that she didn’t see them, but she simply didn’t focus on them.
Similarly, it might not seem like you’re on the road to success – perhaps you sure as hell don’t fit the traditional mould of someone who’s on their way up – but who cares? A stranger watching my mum graft away on her cleaning shifts, kids in tow, would have struggled to predict where she’d end up. And this is something that, even today, motivates me throughout my journey: the truth is, whether your path to your goals looks like it’s ‘supposed’ to look doesn’t matter. As you’ll learn from the stories I’m going to share, there have been many occasions where it looked like the odds were stacked against me, but I’ve achieved goals anyway – and you can, too.
LIFE LESSON: Your past doesn’t have to define your future. As my mum taught me through her hard work and hustle, things don’t have to stay the same: you can change your situation. You can change your life.
I also learned from Mum the power of thought and words. She was – is – always positive about herself and her situation (sometimes, it can seem, to the point of delusion!). That’s why one of my favourite proverbs is, ‘Life and death are in the power of the tongue … so speak life’. What that means to me is that the spoken word is incredibly powerful: you have to speak positively to yourself. And, in the same way, you have to see the good in your situation and stay hopeful. You never know what your story will be – but, regardless of your situation, if you give in to negative thoughts and put out negative words, negativity will be the result. It’s not ‘fate’, it’s the power of your brain and will: if you don’t think and feel like you can, then you probably won’t. That’s something I’ve held onto over the years, and through