Kemi Adeleke

I've spent the last few years helping teams set up and manage container orchestration systems, and Kubernetes often comes up as the go-to solution. It's powerful, ubiquitous, and backed by a massive community. But every time someone mentions deploying their app to 'the cloud,' Kubernetes is the first thing out of their mouth. Here's the thing: you might not need it. In fact, rushing into Kubernetes can complicate your life more than it simplifies it. Let me walk you through why, drawing from a few projects I've worked on where scaling back actually moved us forward faster.

I've spent the last few years helping small businesses in Lagos migrate their operations to the cloud, and every time, I run into the same thing: a mix of excitement fueled by flashy ads and outright confusion about what it all means. Cloud computing sounds like magic - infinite storage, lightning-fast servers, all without buying hardware. But strip away the marketing gloss, and it's just a way to rent computing power over the internet. No sorcery, just practical engineering that can save time and money if you use it right.

I've always been fascinated by the idea of financial freedom, especially growing up in a place like Lagos where economic ups and downs can make single-income living feel like walking a tightrope. A few years back, I was grinding away at my day job in marketing for a telecom firm, pulling in a steady but uninspiring salary. The rising cost of living - fuel prices, school fees, you name it - had me constantly anxious. That's when I started exploring multiple income streams. Not out of some get-rich-quick dream, but survival. Yet, I quickly learned that chasing extra cash can lead straight to exhaustion if you're not careful.

I've attended countless networking events over the years. You know the scene: a room full of people in suits or smart casuals, exchanging business cards like they're trading Pokémon cards, all while smiling through small talk about the weather or weekend plans. It often feels scripted, superficial, and downright fake. If you've ever left one of those gatherings feeling more drained than energized, you're not alone. Networking is supposed to build connections that propel your career, but too often it leaves you questioning if anyone is being genuine.

I remember the first time I hopped on a Bolt ride in Lagos during rush hour. The driver, a university graduate named Chidi, told me he'd been doing this gig for six months after losing his office job during the pandemic. He wasn't thrilled about the long hours or the fuel costs, but it kept his family afloat while he applied for something steadier. That conversation stuck with me, because it captured the double-edged sword of Nigeria's gig economy - opportunities born from necessity, but laced with uncertainty.

I've been in the Nigerian workforce for over a decade now, navigating everything from bustling Lagos startups to established banks in Abuja. One of the toughest conversations I've ever had was asking for a raise at my first corporate job. The economy was shaky, the naira was depreciating faster than anyone could keep up, and I knew my role had evolved way beyond what my salary reflected. But I also knew that in Nigeria, where salaries often lag behind inflation, staying silent meant falling further behind. If you're reading this, you're probably in a similar spot - undervalued but vital to your team's success. Asking for a raise isn't just about money; it's about recognizing your worth in a system that doesn't always make it easy.

I've been watching Nigeria's startup scene evolve for over a decade now, first as a tech enthusiast tinkering with ideas in Lagos, and later as someone who jumped into the ecosystem professionally. Back in the early 2010s, the idea of venture capital here felt like a distant dream—mostly whispers from Silicon Valley mixed with bootstrapped hustles. But today, with unicorns like Flutterwave and Paystack making global headlines, the landscape has transformed. If you're navigating careers in tech or business, understanding this VC world isn't just useful; it's essential. It shapes where the jobs are, what skills pay off, and how ambitious professionals can carve out paths in a high-stakes environment.

Starting a business in Nigeria isn't like flipping through a glossy startup guide. It's more like navigating a bustling Lagos market - full of energy, unexpected turns, and moments that test your grit. I've seen friends launch ventures from small tech apps to food delivery services, and each story underscores the raw, unfiltered reality of entrepreneurship here. It's not all glamour; it's late nights, power cuts, and the thrill of serving a market of over 200 million people hungry for innovation.