What seeing Burna Boy at Afro Nation taught me about Winning.

About ten days ago, my younger brother and I drove from Virginia to Florida for fourteen hours.

We chose to drive because we wanted to bond over a road trip since we don’t live together.

It was also our first time going to a concert, and more than that, we were delighted with the possibility of seeing Burna Boy.

After the stressful driving from 2 pm on the afternoon of the 25th to 4 am the next day, we arrived at our Airbnb.

The house was chill and cozy. It made us really settle down in Florida like a glove fit into our hands.

We fell on the bed in our individual rooms and slept for what seemed hours. Then by evening, when we were rejuvenated, we drove to the gigantic stadium and took almost an hour finding parking.

To be honest with you, some parts of the journey were not bliss, but when we finally made our way into the stadium, we joined the crowd of exciting and bustling people.

We had missed some acts because of our late arrival, and by the time we entered, the DJ was playing to keep spirits up till around 8:15 pm, when Asake took control of the stage.

Now, I was impressed by his voice and the cadence of his singing on the live stage, but what I enjoyed most of all was his joy. Yes, his joy.

He had this particular carriage about him, like one who had not yet believed his reality but was basking in it.

He danced around the stage, from corner to corner, pulled his singlet above his neck, interacted with the crowd like all things were an experience for him that he needed to celebrate to the fullest extent.

For him, he was in a foreign land, miles from where he grew up, and these people were singing his lyrics and screaming his name as he sang more and more of his popular songs.

Mind you, this was a crowd filled with whites and African Americans.

It was from that moment I started thinking of winners, how when life suddenly moves from zero to hundred, it can still be a dream, how the struggling of many years can finally culminate into one continuous fantastic experience that would blow away all the years of bending down and scrapping for what seemed no change in disposition.

Here I learned the point of persistence, and looking back at Asake’s story, I was happy for him because I believed he deserved his present reality.

Around 10:15, Burna, the man I came to see, took the stage, and it was a dream before my eyes.

He is an excellent showman, that is no question. But he moved with the audacity of one who knew he deserved devotion.

He moved like one sure of his charm, of whom the crowd was to be easily swayed by his will.

When he raised a song that seemed too foreign to this alien tribe, and he noticed their tongue chewing as they tried to sing along, he would say:

“Ah, you people are not ready yet. Let me give you something that you’re familiar with.”

From his performance, with a slight difference from Asake, I noticed a man who, from the first days of his singing, knew where he was headed. He had that assuredness about him.

He knew he would reach the greatest heights because he knew he would not be complacent.

He knew he would do everything possible to open the eyes of those who had not seen his potential yet. He took responsibility for his future, and no man who does that ever loses.

Today, no one would call him a mediocre man because mediocre men don’t reach such heights.

One thing that struck me was also his joy, but it was a different joy, one settled in relief. And even when he pushed the crowd to sing songs with him from his first days, you could tell he was a contented man.

That is why he can say, “do am if e easy,” because, above all, it takes a valiant strength to believe in yourself when no one can see the future.

We all need that confidence, that strength to become our first fans.

No one else can see the future we envision except the small child of happiness within us.

At times, we need to develop that ego, that tough skin, that belief of the possibility that everything will end up falling into place.

Of course, I’m not one to drag you into delusion, but what remains conversant in Asake and Burna’s story is that they were not complacent.

They made sure to grind, to work day after day, and I’m sure that even to date, they are working as hard as when they first started.

Why must you learn what it takes to win?

Because I imagine you to be a winner.

I imagine the AprilCentaur family to be one filled with those with great aspirations.

I want to win.

I also want you to win.

And to do this, we both have to know what it takes to get there.

Believing in yourself is the first step. Then putting in the work backs that belief.

Become your cheerleader today. Extend your reach.

Before I end this email, though, I want to apologize for my previous newsletter. It had a lacklustre effort that I feel none of you - my valuable readers - deserve.

It was wrong of me not to put enough into it, and I’m sorry for that.

Please, forgive me.

It is AprilCentaur again, your number-one best friend who is rooting for you.

And remember that the world needs more empathy.

Also, if you feel someone deserves to hear this, share it with them, so they can become a member of the AprilCentaur family and not miss out.

Have a lovely day, my friend. See you in the next email.