My father counted his money in three languages. The lesson I carry forever

My father was a grain merchant for 35 years. He traded from Kano down to the South. I used to sit in his shop and watch him.

He would talk to a farmer in Hausa. Then turn to a Yoruba distributor and switch to Yoruba. Then a Igbo trader come and he switch to Pidgin. Then the bank manager come and he switch to correct English. Same man. Same mouth. Different tongue for different person.

One day I ask him why he does that. He just look at me and say, 'Amina, the person who can only talk one way will only eat from one plate.' I didn't understand then. I was small.

Now I run my own business. I deal with farmers in the village who don't trust anybody in a suit. I deal with buyers in Lagos who don't trust anybody who doesn't speak their grammar. I deal with banks who want everything on paper. Every single day I remember my father's words.

The people who move through this country successfully are the ones who can carry more than one tongue. Not because they are fake. Because they respect the person in front of them enough to meet them where they are.

I still have his old ledger book. The handwriting is fading. But that one sentence he told me in the shop? Wallahi, that is the whole business school I ever needed.