Emeka is a trader at the international market. Every morning he opened his shop before 8. He prayed. He hustled. He followed up on every customer like a soldier.
But every December, the same story. The year ended the way it started. The money he made entered and disappeared: fuel, family calls, one bill he did not plan for. The contract that was 90% sure went silent. The customer owing him stopped picking his calls.
Meanwhile his mate Ikenna, same market, same products, sometimes even higher prices, kept winning. New stock. New car. Contracts locating him. Emeka would greet him and smile, but inside, one question was eating him: what does this man have that I don't have?
The night his landlord called about rent, Emeka sat in the dark and asked himself the question every hustling Nigerian has asked at least once: "Who did I offend? What is blocking me?"
It was his brother who returned from Malaysia that opened his eyes. He looked at Emeka's wrist and said, "You are carrying nothing. The people winning are not stronger than you. They are covered, and they are pulling." Then he showed him his own wrist.
What was on that wrist is what this page is about. And Emeka is not the only one who found out.
