Before you start forming prayer warrior against me, hear me out. I’m not talking about the village people that steal your destiny in the night with red cloth and calabash. I’m talking about the actual people from your village: Your grandmother who sells pepper at the market, your uncle who fixes generators for a living, and that cousin who somehow always knows when someone is about to relocate abroad.
Last week, my brother was struggling with a business decision that had him calling consultants and reading Harvard Business Review articles like his life depended on it. The problem? His delivery startup was bleeding money because customers kept canceling orders after placing them. After spending weeks analyzing customer behavior patterns and drafting retention strategies, our grandmother called.
“Ifechukwude, how is your business?” she asked in that way that makes you know she already knows the answer.
He explained his predicament, and she laughed. “So people are ordering food they don’t want? That’s like going to the market and telling the pepper seller to package pepper for you, then walking away. No serious person does that unless they’re not serious about eating.”
Then she dropped the bomb: “Make them pay small money first. Even if it’s just transport fare. Nobody abandons their own money.”
Just like that, our grandmother had solved his customer retention problem. A simple deposit system that the guy’s MBA-trained brain had somehow missed while drowning in complex analytics.
This got me thinking. Maybe we’ve been looking for business wisdom in all the wrong places.
Take my uncle who repairs generators. The man has never heard of “customer lifetime value,” but he knows exactly how to turn a one-time repair into a monthly maintenance contract. His secret? He fixes your generator but also teaches you basic troubleshooting. Now you trust him completely, and when your neighbor’s generator breaks down, guess who gets the recommendation?
That’s relationship marketing without the fancy name.
Or consider my aunt who runs a small provisions store. She’s never read about inventory management, but she knows exactly which goods to stock based on school calendars, salary payment schedules, and even weather patterns. When harmattan approaches, she stocks up on Vaseline. When schools resume, she’s ready with exercise books and provisions. She’s basically running a demand forecasting operation from her one-room shop.
The truth is, Nigerian village people have been running businesses since before business schools existed. They understand fundamental principles that we’ve complicated with jargon and theories.
They know that trust is the only currency that matters in business. They understand that customers don’t care about your features; they care about their problems. They know that the best marketing is a satisfied customer who can’t stop talking about you.
Most importantly, they know that business is about people, not spreadsheets.
My favorite village person wisdom comes from my grandfather, who used to say, “If you want to know if your business will succeed, ask the people who will use it, not the people who will invest in it.”
This man was talking about user research before it became a business people buzzword.
So next time you’re stuck on a business problem, before you book that expensive consulting session or buy another business book, try calling your village people. They might not speak in frameworks and acronyms, but they understand human behavior better than any algorithm.
Plus, they’ll probably end the conversation with prayers for your success. That’s added value you can’t get from LinkedIn.
So, may your village people always be on your matter, amen?
