Years ago, former Vice President of Nigeria, Prof. Yemi Osinbajo, made a statement at The Platform programme held at Tafawa Balewa Square (TBS), Lagos, that has remained deeply instructive: “The world thrives on trust.”
That simple line reshaped my understanding of relationships, business, and life itself.
Prof. Osinbajo went further to explain that many foreign companies supply goods to Nigerians purely on trust—sometimes without deposits or guarantees—until a few individuals abuse that trust and destroy opportunities for the majority. His message was unmistakable: trust is fragile, and once broken, rebuilding it is difficult, sometimes impossible. Sustaining trust, therefore, is a collective responsibility.
About a decade ago, I ventured into a hire-purchase business and acquired a mini Suzuki vehicle, popularly known as Korope. While searching for a driver, I contacted a friend who had earlier benefited from a Keke Marwa I facilitated for him through hire purchase. He recommended a driver—Rasak, popularly called Aro.
Our lawyer, Barrister Moruf Lawal, drafted the agreement. All parties signed, sealed, and the business commenced. Aro paid ₦20,000 weekly. A few weeks in, he called to complain that his lawyer said the agreement was too stringent. I asked him a direct question: “Do you intend to default?” He said no—and he never did. Aro never missed a payment.
Ironically, the problem did not come from the stranger I trusted, but from the friend I already knew.
That same friend had been driving the Keke Marwa I facilitated through WSJ Cooperative and was paying regularly. But after gaining access to another Korope, he handed the tricycle to a drunkard and gambler. Predictably, the tricycle was damaged, including a broken windscreen.
Each time I asked for payment, excuses followed. Eventually, he claimed he was tired of the new operator and asked me to retrieve the tricycle. What made the situation worse was that the Keke Marwa was not even mine. His default exposed me to pressure from the cooperative’s treasurer—pressure I did not deserve.
One day, I went to Surulere, fixed the broken windscreen, retrieved the tricycle, and parked it at the house of a group member, SOT (now based in the UK), on Ibidun Street. This infuriated the same friend, who claimed he was no longer benefiting—despite clear evidence to the contrary.
Dressed corporately and heading to a debt-recovery case at Botanical Garden, Ebute Metta, alongside my lawyer, the ungrateful friend accosted me. In a threatening, thuggish tone, he said if it were someone else, he knew what he would have done. I reminded him calmly—but firmly—that beyond appearances, I do not tolerate breaches of integrity or mishandling of responsibilities entrusted to my care.
A few days later, Jaiye—then Chairman of Keke Marwa, Tejuosho—alongside Aro, intervened and pleaded on his behalf before I released the tricycle.
I later invited him to the Lagos Oriental Hotel for a meeting with members of the group that owned the tricycle. As he walked in through the main gate, my boss (name withheld) and I were driving out to Shoprite. I asked him to wait briefly.
While we were away, he called—his voice heavy with fear. I reassured him and reminded him that “seeing is not only believing; Koko is also about understanding.” I encouraged him to speak with the group members seated by the poolside.
They confronted him directly:
“Kilode to fi oju olórè gún gi?”
(Why did you treat your helper with such ingratitude?)
He blamed family pressures. When asked to settle his arrears, he promised to pay the following month. He was given two extra months instead. He eventually paid in full—but by then, the relationship had already collapsed.
Recently, the same individual gave Aro—who had lost my contact—my younger brother’s phone number. When I asked how Aro got the number, the source was obvious. I told my brother clearly: Aro remains a responsible, reliable, and trustworthy person and is always welcome to reach out.
There is a Yoruba proverb that says:
“Ẹni tó bá dóbò lẹ́kan ṣoṣo, tó jú ìpà sí i, kò ní rí dóbò mọ́.”
Simply put: He who betrays trust once may never be trusted again.
The world truly thrives on trust. It is always better to leave behind memories that make people want to reconnect, collaborate, share ideas, and confidently do business with you. Trust, once earned, is wealth. Once lost, it costs far more than money to regain.
By Bilesanmi Abayomi KOKO