A peach is a delicate fruit, soft, lush, and eye-catching. Its velvety skin suggests elegance, yet it bruises with the slightest pressure. Unlike tougher fruits that can endure rough handling, a peach’s beauty is fleeting; its ripeness is both a gift and a vulnerability. Once blemished, its value diminishes, its glow fades.
In many ways, Nigeria’s financial culture mirrors this fragility, where success, much like the peach, is often on display but prone to sudden deterioration. Success here is often about appearance, how much you look like you have rather than how much you truly have. In a world that celebrates status, the pressure to appear successful can sometimes outweigh the reality of building lasting wealth. But just like a peach, the pursuit of financial prosperity is a balancing act, one that requires us to recognize the difference between substance and spectacle, between wealth that sustains and wealth that only shines for a moment.
Nigeria’s relationship with wealth has evolved dramatically over generations. Before colonialism, prosperity was not measured by cash or material goods. It was about land, livestock, and social influence. The ability to provide for one’s family and community was central to success, and wealth was seen as something that should be nurtured over time, passed down through generations. A farmer who worked diligently to cultivate his land was respected as much as a wealthy merchant or ruler. Success was rooted in legacy and stability, values that prioritized sustainability over flashiness.
However, colonialism ushered in a new paradigm. The European colonizers brought with them the idea of cash as the ultimate marker of success. Land was commodified, the social fabric was torn, and the focus shifted from collective prosperity to individual wealth. As cash became king, the pursuit of personal affluence became not only desirable but imperative. This transformation was accelerated by the discovery of oil in the 1950s and the subsequent boom of the 1970s.
The oil boom brought with it an era of unprecedented affluence. With vast wealth suddenly available to the nation, the display of opulence became not just a sign of success but a social expectation. The concept of “making it” in Nigeria became synonymous with wealth that was seen. An individual’s success was validated by their ability to flaunt it. Lavish parties, oversized homes, and the ostentatious display of material wealth became cultural markers of achievement. By the time Nigeria entered economic downturns in the 1980s and 1990s, this mindset had already taken root. The country faced widespread poverty, devaluation of currency, and mounting unemployment and with fewer opportunities available, many were determined to rise above their circumstances by any means necessary.
Today, in the age of social media, this pursuit has intensified. Young Nigerians are not just chasing financial security, they are chasing visibility, global relevance, and proof that they, too, have arrived. As a young man myself, I am not immune to the struggle. I too often feel the weight of comparison and the urge to project success and I am in no position to cast aspersions. The desire to succeed is second nature, and the urge to be seen as successful is rooted in our biological need for social signaling. This need for social recognition is one of the strongest pillars of ambition. However, the challenge lies in ensuring that our ambition is not just about fleeting displays but centered around creating lasting impact.
True prosperity is not just about what can be flaunted, but what can be sustained. It is about creating wealth that outlives trends, wealth that empowers and uplifts, wealth that tells a story of innovation and endurance. The world moves fast, and the pressure to “show up” is real, but perhaps the most powerful thing we can do is redefine success on our own terms.
Like the peach, wealth that is too fragile to endure pressure will not last. But when cultivated with patience and purpose, it becomes something more than just a fleeting glow. It becomes legacy. And that is the real currency of change.
Eyesan Toritseju is a graduate of Civil Engineering from Covenant University turned serial entrepreneur and corporate strategist. Passionate about society and the cultural ideologies that shape us, he explores how these forces propel or inhibit progress through his writing. In his column, Cosmopolitan Nigeria, Eyesan examines how young Nigerians navigate the complexities of culture, religion, and identity in a rapidly evolving world.
