The Steko Podcast (2026)

30/08/2026

Sunday Muse #04

Is the police truly our friend? I think I’d rather stay alive than find out. Lol!

It was Sunday morning, and I was hurrying to church with my wife and sister when we came across a familiar Nigerian sight: a police officer stopping a commercial vehicle and asserting the authority given to him by his uniform and the gun in his hand.

“I don’t care who you are. Stop!” he shouted at the driver.

I didn’t know when “Toor” escaped from my mouth. Thankfully, he didn’t hear me. I wasn’t just upset about what was happening in front of me. I was frustrated with the system behind it.

Unknown to me, I would have my own experience later that week.

This time, I was with my wife and a dear friend. We had just finished a meeting when I heard screeching tyres, shattering glass and a vehicle speeding away behind me.

I turned around and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A police officer had used his gun to break the vehicle’s mirror.

“Omo, what’s wrong na?” I shouted without thinking.

The officer looked shocked and asked if I was referring to the driver who had sped off.

“Both of you,” I replied.

Another drama was about to unfold. He began raging about how he could manhandle me right there, but my friend encouraged me to keep quiet. At that point, staying silent felt wiser than finding out how far he was willing to go.

The experience stayed with me.

It’s painful that some of the people on our streets—the people meant to protect us—can also make us feel unsafe. But when things go wrong in Nigeria, we often point only to the government.

If we’re being honest, the problem also shows up in ordinary people and ordinary choices. In our silence. In the moments we look away. Even in something as common as eating on the road and dropping the waste on the ground because we assume someone else will pick it up.

I think about Nigeria often, and I know meaningful change will come at a cost. I don’t want to become a sacrifice for it. I have a family to protect.
Still, I wonder what could happen if each of us played our part within our families, neighbourhoods, workplaces and even in the places where nobody is watching. Perhaps we may not enjoy all the results, but the generations after us might.

To a better Nigeria.

Please remember to vote next year. And to the police officers on our streets, please do better. We need you, but we also need to feel safe around you.

That was the moment from my week that stayed with me.

What stayed with you this week?

30/08/2026

Sunday Muse #04

Is the police truly our friend? I think I’d rather stay alive than find out. Lol!

It was Sunday morning, and I was hurrying to church with my wife and sister when we came across a familiar Nigerian sight: a police officer stopping a commercial vehicle and asserting the authority given to him by his uniform and the gun in his hand.

“I don’t care who you are. Stop!” he shouted at the driver.

I didn’t know when “Toor” escaped from my mouth. Thankfully, he didn’t hear me. I wasn’t just upset about what was happening in front of me. I was frustrated with the system behind it.

Unknown to me, I would have my own experience later that week.

This time, I was with my wife and a dear friend. We had just finished a meeting when I heard screeching tyres, shattering glass and a vehicle speeding away behind me.

I turned around and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A police officer had used his gun to break the vehicle’s mirror.

“Omo, what’s wrong na?” I shouted without thinking.

The officer looked shocked and asked if I was referring to the driver who had sped off.

“Both of you,” I replied.

Another drama was about to unfold. He began raging about how he could manhandle me right there, but my friend encouraged me to keep quiet. At that point, staying silent felt wiser than finding out how far he was willing to go.

The experience stayed with me.

It’s painful that some of the people on our streets—the people meant to protect us—can also make us feel unsafe. But when things go wrong in Nigeria, we often point only to the government.

If we’re being honest, the problem also shows up in ordinary people and ordinary choices. In our silence. In the moments we look away. Even in something as common as eating on the road and dropping the waste on the ground because we assume someone else will pick it up.

I think about Nigeria often, and I know meaningful change will come at a cost. I don’t want to become a sacrifice for it. I have a family to protect.

To a better Nigeria abeg. Let’s all play our role, from the least to the greatest.

That was the moment from my week that stayed with me.

What stayed with you t

23/08/2026

Sunday Muse #03

Omoor! I’ve heard that pride goes before a fall, but I didn’t know my phone could go with it too.

My phone has been begging for a replacement, but stubborn me wouldn’t listen. So, this week, it found another opportunity to leave me.

Family is everything to me, and as usual, I try to create time here and there to show up. After saying my goodbyes, I got on a bike and began the bumpy ride out of the estate.

Along the way, I noticed someone familiar walking ahead of me. For a moment, I considered pretending not to see him. He wouldn’t have known it was me zooming past anyway. You know that typical thing with guys—we can hail each other today without having any meaningful connection tomorrow.

Still, as the bike sped past him, I said hello. He immediately called out for me to stop, so I asked the rider to pull over, even though I was rushing to meet someone. When he caught up with me, we exchanged pleasantries, and he asked for my number.

Lo and behold, my phone was nowhere to be found.

We started looking for it and, guess what? It had fallen out of my pocket at the exact spot where I passed him and said hello.

What if I had chosen not to greet him?

I guess I’ll never know.

It made me wonder about the little things we dismiss and the people we sometimes choose to ignore. That day, one simple greeting led me back to my phone.

That was the highlight of my week.

Over to you.

What moment from your week has stayed with you

23/08/2026

Sunday Muse #03

Omoor! I’ve heard that pride goes before a fall, but I didn’t know my phone could go with it too.

My phone has been begging for a replacement, but stubborn me wouldn’t listen. So, this week, it found another opportunity to leave me.

Family is everything to me, and as usual, I try to create time here and there to show up. After saying my goodbyes, I got on a bike and began the bumpy ride out of the estate.

Along the way, I noticed someone familiar walking ahead of me. For a moment, I considered pretending not to see him. He wouldn’t have known it was me zooming past anyway. You know that typical thing with guys—we can hail each other today without having any meaningful connection tomorrow.

Still, as the bike sped past him, I said hello. He immediately called out for me to stop, so I asked the rider to pull over, even though I was rushing to meet someone. When he caught up with me, we exchanged pleasantries, and he asked for my number.

Lo and behold, my phone was nowhere to be found.

We started looking for it and, guess what? It had fallen out of my pocket at the exact spot where I passed him and said hello.

What if I had chosen not to greet him?

I guess I’ll never know.

It made me wonder about the little things we dismiss and the people we sometimes choose to ignore. That day, one simple greeting led me back to my phone.

That was the highlight of my week.

Over to you.

What moment from your week has stayed with you?

16/08/2026

Sunday Muse #02

It’s 11 p.m. on Saturday, and I’m catching up with my neighbours while my gateman helps me polish my shoes for church.

There’s a new car in the compound, and one of them thinks it’s mine.

I tell him, “Not yet.”

He laughs and refuses to believe me until someone else explains who the car actually belongs to.

I think I’m saved, but then the conversation shifts.

They start flattering me, saying I have money.

In Yoruba, one of them says, “Isaac, o l’ówó.”

And I respond, “Mi ò l’ówó, sir.”

In English: “Isaac, you have money.”

And my response: “Sir, I don’t.”

It was a funny exchange. We laughed, said goodnight, and parted ways
because it was almost midnight.

But later, I found myself revisiting the conversation.

I knew I was only trying to be humble, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised what I had repeatedly said about myself: I don’t have money.

It might sound trivial, but it didn’t feel that way anymore.

The Holy Book says that death and life are in the power of the tongue, and there I was, casually confessing something I would never want to become my reality.

The truth is, I want to be rich and blessed.

I may not be where people think I am yet, but I’m also not where I used to be. I’m grateful for how far God has brought me, even as I look forward to where I’m going.

Maybe next time, I won’t rush to reject the compliment.

Maybe I’ll simply smile and say, “I’m not there yet, but I’ll get there in due time.”

I’m not going to be ashamed of wealth.

I choose to be wealthy.

Lol.

That’s one experience from my week that stayed with me.

How did your week go? What moment are you still thinking about?

Share your own Sunday Muse with me.

12/08/2026

Necessity is the mother of invention.

Most of the tools we depend on today were created because someone encountered a problem and refused to accept that there was no better way.

Pressure has a way of revealing possibilities that comfort never forces us to consider.

When resources are limited, we become creative. When the old way stops working, we begin asking better questions. And when a problem becomes urgent enough, innovation stops being optional.

Maybe the challenge in front of you isn’t there to stop you.

Maybe it’s forcing you to discover an idea, develop a skill, or build a solution you would never have considered otherwise.

So don’t only ask, “Why is this happening to me?”

Ask, “What is this situation requiring me to create?”

Because sometimes your greatest invention is hiding inside your greatest necessity.

What problem in your life is pushing you to create something new? Tell me in the comments.

09/08/2026

Sunday Muse #01

Last week, I had a headache that lasted three days.

It wasn't the kind you sleep off and forget about. It followed me everywhere. Looking at my screen became uncomfortable. Thinking clearly took effort. Even simple conversations felt heavier than usual.

Like most people, my first instinct wasn't to stop. It was to find a way around it. Maybe I'd sleep it off. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe I could just push through and finish the work I had planned.

I couldn't.

As frustrating as it was, the headache forced me into something I rarely choose on my own: slowing down.

What surprised me wasn't the pain. It was how uncomfortable I felt doing... nothing.

I kept checking my phone, opening my laptop, thinking about messages I hadn't replied to and work that wasn't getting done.

Somewhere along the way, the headache stopped being the thing bothering me most.

Falling behind did.

That surprised me.

I still don't know what caused the headache. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was something else entirely.

I wasn't even planning to take anything.

My wife kept encouraging me to take Armatem and Paracetamol. I resisted because I was convinced it would pass on its own.

Eventually, I gave in.

If you're Nigerian, you probably know exactly what I mean.

But even after taking the medicine, I still couldn't negotiate my way out of resting.

Only this time, my body wasn't interested in negotiating.

By the third day, I wasn't frustrated because my head still hurt.

I was frustrated because I'd run out of ways to convince myself I was fine.

I'm still sitting with that thought.

That's my Sunday Muse.

What's yours?

11/03/2026

Never walk alone

The Steko Podcast

30/08/2026

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23/08/2026

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