I often wonder why some of our people are so determined to reshape our value systems to mirror those of the Western world. It becomes even more painful when I hear an Igbo person proclaiming that “nobody is entitled to another person’s wealth” and advising others to “go and make their own money.”
Yes, there’s nothing wrong with asking someone to go and make their own money. But remember, you succeeded in Nigeria not necessarily because you are the smartest or did something others haven’t done, but largely because you were lucky. Yes, I said you were lucky. That business that made you a billionaire, or that strategy you used—thousands of others have tried the same and failed. You succeeded because of your unique star or destiny.
So, while it is right to encourage someone to make their own money, it is also wrong to dismiss or belittle them unless they are truly lazy.
In the Western world, it is true that nobody feels entitled to another’s wealth, and people don’t rely on destiny helpers. In fact, there’s nothing like destiny helper over there. Because the systems there provide 99% of what a person needs to succeed independently. Education, infrastructure, and opportunities are readily accessible, enabling people to achieve their goals without relying on extended family or communal support.
But this is not the reality in Africa, particularly in Igboland. Here, everyone who has achieved success has benefited, directly or indirectly, from the support of their community, umunna, or siblings or even friends. In many cases, people have sacrificed their own dreams for the good of others. For instance, some older siblings have given up their education to ensure their younger ones could go to school.
For many successful Igbo entrepreneurs across Nigeria and beyond, their journey began because someone in their community or friends extended a helping hand. They were invited to explore business opportunities in new territories by umunna or fellow villagers or friends who were already established. This collective spirit was once the backbone of our success as a people.
Looking back, our fathers upheld a system of communal support. Communities would contribute funds to send a promising young man abroad to study, knowing his success would uplift everyone. Age grades came together to build houses for members who couldn’t afford one. These acts of unity and sacrifice were not exceptions—they were the norm.
Yet, today, some Ndígbo, whose families were uplifted by such communal support, now turn their backs on this tradition. They argue that their wealth belongs solely to them, their wives, and their children. They forget that it was the sacrifices of others—siblings, umunna, friends or their communities—that laid the foundation for their success.
As an Igbo person, remember that our culture is deeply rooted in collectivism, not individualism. The Western world may have its values, but ours are different. Our wealth has always been seen as a tool to uplift not just ourselves but our families and communities. That is the essence of being Igbo, and it is what sets us apart.
Let us not forget who we are. Let us not lose the values that have sustained us for generations. Always remember, anyi bu Ndígbo. Our strength lies in our togetherness.
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