FOUNDER’S DESK | 003
By Deola Abela Inyang
Founder & CEO, Abela® World Limited · Pioneer, Afro-Baroque Perfumery®
Reading Time: 7–8 minutes
Categories: Founder’s Desk • Identity • Culture • Afro-Baroque Perfumery
Lately, off my Afro-Baroque Perfumery bench, I have found myself carrying a quiet grief for my home country.
Not because Nigeria is existentially poor when it is inherently rich.Not because our institutions are failing.Not even because opportunity feels increasingly scarce, even when it is created.
I am grieving because I fear we are losing something far more fundamental. We are losing our humanity.
Somewhere along the journey, we stopped paying attention to ourselves. We became disconnected from the inner work of knowing who we are, what we believe, and what we stand for. We became so consumed by surviving that we neglected the responsibility of self-awareness.
A society cannot remain healthy when its people no longer have the time, energy, or willingness to reflect.
When a people lose the ability to think deeply, they slowly lose the ability to reason.When they lose the ability to reason, they become vulnerable to anyone willing to tell them what to think.And when that happens, identity is no longer formed from conviction. It is borrowed from ideology.
Today, I see many people outsourcing thought itself.
Outsourcing responsibility.Outsourcing moral judgment.Outsourcing accountability.Outsourcing purpose.
We have become increasingly comfortable allowing others to define reality for us. Politicians. Religious leaders. Influencers. Tribal loyalties. Social media algorithms. Whichever voice happens to shout the loudest.
Religion, which should strengthen conscience, has too often become a substitute for it.
Instead of helping us think more deeply, it is frequently used to avoid thinking altogether. Instead of asking difficult questions, we seek easy answers. Instead of examining ourselves, we search for someone else to blame.
Yet the greatest theft occurring in our society today is not being committed by outsiders. It is happening within us.
It is the theft of agency.The theft of critical thought.The theft of self-awareness.The theft of personal responsibility.
Because a person who no longer knows who they are cannot defend what they believe. And a people who cannot defend what they believe cannot protect the culture they hope to preserve.
These realities trouble me deeply. Not because I have the answers. But because I am increasingly convinced that Nigeria’s greatest crisis is no longer economic.
It is cultural.A crisis of identity.A crisis of consciousness.A crisis of self-knowledge.
The challenge before us is not simply how to create wealth. It is how to rebuild the inner lives of a people.
How do we raise citizens instead of followers? Thinkers instead of repeaters? Contributors instead of spectators? How do we build a culture where character matters more than status, where rights exist but responsibility carries equal weight, and where self-awareness becomes a civic virtue rather than a private luxury?
I do not know exactly where we begin. But I know where we cannot begin.
We cannot begin by blaming everyone else. We cannot begin by blaming every other tribe. Every cultural recovery starts with reflection. With honesty from within. With the courage to examine ourselves before examining others. With the vulnerability to admit we may ourselves be broken before pointing to the brokenness of others.
Perhaps the rebuilding of Nigeria will not begin in government offices, boardrooms, churches, mosques, or on social media. Perhaps it begins in a much quieter place. The place in your heart where every person, by design, remembers who they are. And chooses to become responsible for what happens next.
But perhaps this crisis of identity did not emerge in isolation. Perhaps it began much earlier. Perhaps it began when we forgot how to honour people. When we forgot to see the dignity in the person who cleaned our toilets. When we forgot that character is something worth celebrating.
Because identity is not formed in a vacuum. Human beings learn who they are partly through what their society celebrates, rewards, and esteems. A society’s values become a mirror through which its people learn to measure their own worth. When that mirror becomes distorted, people begin searching for dignity in achievement, status, wealth, power, and approval rather than in character, purpose, and humanity.
And that is how monsters are made.
Not because people are born without conscience. But because they learn very early that conscience is not what society rewards.
Human beings have always searched for dignity. The desire to be seen. To be accepted. To be respected. To be valued. To be honoured. These are not selfish desires. They are deeply human ones.
Yet somewhere along the way, we stopped honouring people for who they are. We began honouring them for what they own. For the titles they carry. For the influence they command. For the money they display. For the access they possess.
In doing so, we quietly changed the rules of society. We taught young people that dignity is something to acquire rather than something inherent. We taught them that worth must be earned through status. We taught them that recognition matters more than character.
And when a society rewards outcomes while ignoring the methods used to achieve them, it should not be surprised by the people it produces. We lament corruption while celebrating wealth without questioning its source. We condemn dishonesty while rewarding its fruits. We complain about moral decline while reserving our greatest admiration for power and success.
What then are young people learning?
When honour is attached to possession rather than personhood, people begin to chase symbols instead of substance. Some lose themselves trying to become somebody. Others lose their conscience trying to remain somebody. And many eventually forget who they were before the performance began.
Scarcity creates desperation. Desperation weakens judgment. But poverty alone does not explain what we are witnessing.
The deeper issue is that we have forgotten how to honour people simply because they are decent, responsible, thoughtful, honest, disciplined, and kind. We have forgotten how to celebrate character. And when a culture stops rewarding character, it slowly begins to manufacture predators. Not because evil suddenly appeared. But because virtue stopped being recognised.
That is why I believe our crisis is ultimately one of culture. A crisis of what we value. A crisis of what we reward. A crisis of what we honour.
Because every society eventually becomes a reflection of the things it chooses to celebrate.
And a people deprived of dignity will eventually seek significance in dangerous places.
How do we fix Nigeria’s honour system?
Deola Abela Inyang is the Founder of Abela World Limited and the originator of Afro-Baroque Perfumery. She writes on culture, identity, and the inner life of building.
