A Shot at a Second Chance: How Loss, Information, and Faith Redefined My Journey
January 4, 2016, is a date permanently etched in my memory. It was the day I lost my father, Pa Olorunshola Balogun, at the age of 79. Beyond the pain of bereavement, it marked the beginning of one of the darkest seasons of my life—a period when everything seemed to fall apart at once.
At the time, I was actively engaged with market research agencies across the country. Work had been steady, and life felt predictable. Suddenly, the calls stopped coming. At first, I questioned my competence, but it soon became clear that something bigger was at play. The industry had evolved, and younger secondary school leavers were now willing to do twice the work for half the pay. An era had ended, and I hadn’t prepared for its close. By the time I realized this, the pressure was already overwhelming.
For months, I moved from place to place, submitting application letters and CVs, holding on to hope that something would break through. Nothing did—until one ordinary day spent in the company of friends and respected elders in the neighborhood. In the middle of casual conversation, someone mentioned an employment opportunity and even offered to accompany me the next day.
What stunned me most was that the opportunity was in a newly built potable water processing factory barely three minutes from where we lived. None of us knew about it—except him. That moment taught me a lifelong lesson about the power of information and the value of the circles we keep.
True to his word, he came the next day. I arrived clutching my CV and academic results, convinced I would need them. Instead, the CEO conducted a brief verbal interview. In less than five minutes, he was convinced. I was told to resume the following Monday as the new Business Development Manager.
The salary was ₦25,000 which later increased to #30,000. I accepted without hesitation. I needed to start doing something before circumstances began to do me.
Mr. Abayomi Oladapo, popularly known as Voltron—whom I met through a friend, Fatumbi Olanrewaju (now based in Canada)—gave me that opportunity purely out of goodwill. I made sure I did not disappoint. The job gave me more than income; it gave me direction and freedom, including the space to focus on broadcasting.
Within a year, the company grew remarkably. We expanded from two shuttle buses to six vehicles, including two newly acquired Cabstar trucks and a diesel-powered 20-ton truck. As the business grew in leaps and bounds, so did I. That phase of my life gave me the stability and confidence I needed to find my footing in broadcast journalism—the path I walk today.
Many would wonder why I chose today of all days to tell this story. The answer is simple: today is a reminder. Ten years ago, I was drowning in grief and uncertainty, having lost my father and my livelihood at the same time. It could have ended badly. It didn’t—not because I was extraordinary, but because God had a plan, and I listened and acted when the moment came.
If you ever find yourself in a hole, prayers are important—absolutely. But so is information. And the kind of information you receive often depends on the kind of people you surround yourself with.
This is my heartfelt appreciation to everyone who contributed, in one way or another, to the person I am today. I may not be exactly where I planned to be, but I know for a fact that I am getting closer—step by step, brick by brick. By God’s grace, I will get there.
As I remember my father, Pa Olorunshola Balogun, ten years after his passing, I am reminded of the second chance life gave me. It is a constant call to live in a way that would make him proud. I believe he is resting peacefully, and I am certain he is not disappointed.