It begins
For the dreamers
#70hourschessmarathon
The One Who Wears Big Caps for Little Children.
These are my final thoughts before I hand over my phone to management. The team says I need to sleep.
But before the world goes quiet around me, allow me say a few things…
It’s my second time doing this insane thing of trying to break a world record.
You’d think it would be easier now,after all I’ve done it before. But that’s the thing about impossible things:
The first time, you survive them because you don’t yet understand the cost.
Now that I’m fully aware of the exertion it takes both physically and mentally, I’m equal parts excited and terrified. I embrace both.
Today I’ll tell you why I always wear a cap…
The night before I left Nigeria for this journey, something happened.
It was 9pm on a Tuesday night.
I was at the mall picking up some last-minute items.
Two boys, scruffy and barefoot approached me at the car park.
They were hungry and hadn’t eaten all day.
I asked their names.
“Yusuff,” said one. “Ayomide,” said the other. Both young teenagers.
As I turned to check for cash in the car, the light hit my face and Yusuff immediately recognized me and blurted out “Chess players observe,”
I was stunned.
That was our mantra at Chess in Slums, it was what we taught the kids. I asked how he knew this, he explained that he had seen me months prior at their ghetto.
This made sense as we had spent the entire month of December teaching chess and maths to street children in that ghetto. Yusuff wasn’t part of the training but on the day of the final tournament, he watched from a distance as the other kids chanted “chess players observe”. It stayed with him ever since.
He told me his story.
His mother died during childbirth. His father disappeared.
He lived with his ailing grandmother for sometime but had to leave for the streets to fend for himself. It’s been five years of trying to survive in his own
Five years of growing up too fast…He is 15 years old now.
Then, something surreal happened.
A white Range Rover pulled up beside us.
A woman rolled down the window, “Chess master!” she called out.
She stepped out with her son Jayden.
Impeccably dressed. British accent.
She wanted a photo. Jayden loves chess.
She’s a fan.
So there they stood, Jayden and Yusuff.
Both teenagers.
One in branded sneakers. The other barefoot.
One polished by privilege. The other hardened by survival.
As I asked them to introduce themselves,
Yusuff’s confidence crumbled.
He looked down. His voice faltered.
I took a selfie with Jayden and his Mum, and as they drove off I had my epiphany….
And in that moment, I saw it:
The cruel reality of the world we live in
where a boy like Jayden and a boy like Yusuff would never meet
except by accident or because I happened to stand between them.
But what separated them wasn’t merit or character, It was birth. The arbitrary lottery that decides who gets to dream,
and who must survive.
Jayden will likely go on to attend the best schools, see the world, and live fully. While
Yusuff probably ends up doing the bidding of whoever can promise him his next meal.
An Area boy.
I have met thousands of bright eyed children like Yusuffs in this life, whose pain is invisible, and by no fault of theirs live in a world where their suffering doesn’t matter.
Sometimes, we save them.
Sometimes, we fail.
But I will never stop carrying this burden in my heart.
This is why I wear big caps for little children and wear one my self.
So the world may see them in all their colors, not for the suffering they bear,
but for what I know they can truly become.
I hope have shared this burden with you as honestly as I could.
If you ever believed in me, believe in them.
Cheer for them. Donate. Share. Amplify.
We are trying to build the largest free school in Africa.
A sanctuary for every child like Yusuff
where their dreams won’t die quietly.
I do this so their dreams may find validation in my sacrifice.
I have to go now, big day ahead. Gotta make it count.
It begins
For the dreamers 🇳🇬
#70hourschessmarathon
The One Who Wears Big Caps for Little Children.
These are my final thoughts before I hand over my phone to management. The team says I need to sleep.
But before the world goes quiet around me, allow me say a few things…
It’s my second time doing this insane thing of trying to break a world record.
You’d think it would be easier now,after all I’ve done it before. But that’s the thing about impossible things:
The first time, you survive them because you don’t yet understand the cost.
Now that I’m fully aware of the exertion it takes both physically and mentally, I’m equal parts excited and terrified. I embrace both.
Today I’ll tell you why I always wear a cap…
The night before I left Nigeria for this journey, something happened.
It was 9pm on a Tuesday night.
I was at the mall picking up some last-minute items.
Two boys, scruffy and barefoot approached me at the car park.
They were hungry and hadn’t eaten all day.
I asked their names.
“Yusuff,” said one. “Ayomide,” said the other. Both young teenagers.
As I turned to check for cash in the car, the light hit my face and Yusuff immediately recognized me and blurted out “Chess players observe,”
I was stunned.
That was our mantra at Chess in Slums, it was what we taught the kids. I asked how he knew this, he explained that he had seen me months prior at their ghetto.
This made sense as we had spent the entire month of December teaching chess and maths to street children in that ghetto. Yusuff wasn’t part of the training but on the day of the final tournament, he watched from a distance as the other kids chanted “chess players observe”. It stayed with him ever since.
He told me his story.
His mother died during childbirth. His father disappeared.
He lived with his ailing grandmother for sometime but had to leave for the streets to fend for himself. It’s been five years of trying to survive in his own
Five years of growing up too fast…He is 15 years old now.
Then, something surreal happened.
A white Range Rover pulled up beside us.
A woman rolled down the window, “Chess master!” she called out.
She stepped out with her son Jayden.
Impeccably dressed. British accent.
She wanted a photo. Jayden loves chess.
She’s a fan.
So there they stood, Jayden and Yusuff.
Both teenagers.
One in branded sneakers. The other barefoot.
One polished by privilege. The other hardened by survival.
As I asked them to introduce themselves,
Yusuff’s confidence crumbled.
He looked down. His voice faltered.
I took a selfie with Jayden and his Mum, and as they drove off I had my epiphany….
And in that moment, I saw it:
The cruel reality of the world we live in
where a boy like Jayden and a boy like Yusuff would never meet
except by accident or because I happened to stand between them.
But what separated them wasn’t merit or character, It was birth. The arbitrary lottery that decides who gets to dream,
and who must survive.
Jayden will likely go on to attend the best schools, see the world, and live fully. While
Yusuff probably ends up doing the bidding of whoever can promise him his next meal.
An Area boy.
I have met thousands of bright eyed children like Yusuffs in this life, whose pain is invisible, and by no fault of theirs live in a world where their suffering doesn’t matter.
Sometimes, we save them.
Sometimes, we fail.
But I will never stop carrying this burden in my heart.
This is why I wear big caps for little children and wear one my self.
So the world may see them in all their colors, not for the suffering they bear,
but for what I know they can truly become.
I hope have shared this burden with you as honestly as I could.
If you ever believed in me, believe in them.
Cheer for them. Donate. Share. Amplify.
We are trying to build the largest free school in Africa.
A sanctuary for every child like Yusuff
where their dreams won’t die quietly.
I do this so their dreams may find validation in my sacrifice.
I have to go now, big day ahead. Gotta make it count.
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