We’re obsessed with good answers: the perfect solution, the proven framework, the five-step process that promises clarity in a messy world. But good questions that unsettle you and peel back layers of assumptions are rarer. And harder.

So let me ask you one good question. “Whose story are we not hearing?”

This question sits behind many conversation I’m a part of, especially on global stages and every time, I quietly resist the single narratives that flatten the richness of our communities.

The Stories We Don’t Tell

In most communities across Nigeria, the story is always about what’s missing and never about what’s present. We hear about poverty, unemployment, and lack and not about perseverance, ingenuity and resilience.

What those stories miss is that there’s a teacher who has been running classes for JAMB candidates for over a decade and many of her students have gone on to the university. You won’t find her story in any newspaper.

And don’t forget the mechanic in the border town who can diagnose engine problems by sound alone. He’s trained a dozen apprentices and developed problem solving skills that would impress any automobile engineer but his expertise is dismissed as “just hustle,” not recognized as the mastery it is.

These are the stories that build our communities quietly, day after day and yet, they rarely make it into the stories we tell about ourselves. In fact, I’ve noticed that there’s a hierarchy in how we value stories.

1. Global stories matter most.
2. National stories matter next.
3. Local stories are too small, too specific, too ordinary to matter.

I think this should be backwards. Local stories are where universal truths live. The details, the names, the places, the improvisations are what make them powerful.

Local stories show us how systems actually work. Look at it this way, economists can theorize about informal economies all day but the street vendor or the bus conductor already knows how those systems breathe. Educators can debate pedagogy all year, but the teacher improvising lessons without textbooks has already written a new one.

So I ask again, “Whose story are we not hearing?”

If the only stories you hear about our local communities are about problems, you’ll start to believe that we are problems to be solved, not people with solutions.

If the only voices you hear belong to those with titles or degrees, you’ll start to believe that wisdom only wears a suit or comes from oversees.

But every day, there are people in our streets, classrooms, and workshops quietly rewriting what’s possible.

If we want to build stronger communities, fairer systems, and deeper understanding, maybe the work isn’t only to find good answers but to keep asking better questions.

So for the last time in this post, I ask you. “Whose story are we not hearing?” If you find them, read them. If you can’t find them, write them.

Cheers!