Earlier this month, I joined a new team within my company and a colleague (another designer) took me out to get coffee and basically talk. I came out of that meeting feeling like I’d just had the MOST HONEST conversation in my life – at least for as long as I can remember. The worst part is that I was not honest during our talk.
It wasn’t guarded; there were no undertones; it was transparent. He spoke his truth, told me about his life, his family, his struggles. He was free, happy, genuinely happy.
We bonded over coming from not-so-great countries, and how great the city is, given that all we complain about is the weather — first world problem. He told me of his gratitude, and the impact Amsterdam had on his personal life and all I did was smile. …
In recent weeks, my thoughts were frequently interrupted by different questions. These questions can easily be framed in the form of “how did I get here?”.
Well to take away your unease, “here” is not a bad place. It’s great actually, although slightly different from what I had imagined I’d be doing with my life but waay better.
Whenever I try to answer this question, I am led back to the day in October 2011, when I walked into the 6th floor of a building in Yaba. I’m not great at remembering things, but this memory stuck out.
The walls had a lot of bright colors. It was really pretty, the most beautiful room I had ever been in. Immediately, even though I didn’t know what exactly they did here, I knew I wanted to belong. …