Systems that serve. Stories that stick.

The Calling: When Impact Became Personal

I didn’t stumble into nonprofit work. It found me. Called me. And didn’t let go.

It began the day I saw not one or two, but at least seven girls just like Aisha. Girls who were lost, overlooked, and forgotten. One of them once told me she liked pizza and would sometimes hang around a place she called "Fiza." I never forgot the way she said it.

Someone mentioned that the Sultan of the Hausa community in Lagos might be able to help. I went to his palace, hoping to find someone who cared. I was dismissed instead. As I walked away, something shifted inside me.

I thought about the millions of people in Nigeria who are slipping through the cracks. Cracks so wide it feels like no one even sees them. I knew then that I wanted to be one of the people who chooses to care. Not in theory, but with everything I had.

Impact, to me, isn’t just about programs or plans. It is about choosing love when it’s easier to look away. Sometimes it is about carrying anger and turning it into action. But always, it is about refusing to be indifferent.

A Different Kind of Strategy: Data That Feels, Systems That Care

I work at the intersection of logic and heart. I love a clean dashboard, but I also care about what the numbers don’t say.

You might find me building a data structure in Power BI, and right after that, sitting with a community leader who tells me why the numbers miss a piece of the truth. I use tools like Tableau, Excel, and Sprout Social. But my most powerful tools are curiosity and empathy.

Data matters, and I use it to shape strategies and secure funding. But it should never erase the person behind the chart. I hold the stories close. I believe real change starts with how we speak. How we talk about women. How we treat their futures.

I dream of seeing thousands of young women in Lagos graduate from schools, boot camps, and developer programs. Not just to be counted as statistics, but to live fully. Systems matter. So does story. And I hold both with equal care.

Fundraising That Feels Like Partnership

I don’t believe fundraising should ever feel like a performance. It should feel like truth.

I don’t sell pity. I tell stories of resilience, of communities rising, of people doing hard things with quiet strength. Donors are not saviors. They are partners. And integrity should never be the price of funding.

I help nonprofits build structures that show their work clearly. Sometimes that means starting with a shared Google Sheet. Other times it means setting up Salesforce integrations or linking financial systems like QuickBooks.

My doctoral research explores how tools like blockchain and artificial intelligence can help nonprofits show the full story, from donation to delivery. But beyond that, I teach teams how to be consistent, how to be honest, and how to make trust visible.

Because every donor is really asking one thing. Does this matter? And can I trust you?

Centering the People: Every Voice Matters

Growing up in Lagos taught me to listen with more than just my ears.

You learn to notice the elder who says very little but sees everything. You listen to the cousin who won’t speak unless asked. You learn to hear the voice behind the silence.

That’s the same approach I bring into nonprofit work. I create space for every voice, not just the loudest. I use group reflections, one-on-one conversations, surveys, and even anonymous messages. Some truths need stillness to be spoken.

I build teams like shared meals. Everyone brings something. Every ingredient counts. A good team holds trust, shared purpose, and a little humor to help carry the hard days.

And above all, I believe that systems are made to serve people. Never the other way around.

Technology That Anchors, Not Replace

I find beauty in technology when it helps people feel seen.

I’ve led projects where nonprofits moved from scattered spreadsheets to systems that helped them reconnect with the people they serve. Case management didn’t create distance. It created reminders to check in, to remember names, to follow up with care.

I never start with tools. I start with questions. What feels heavy? What could work better? What’s slipping through the cracks?

You don’t have to wait for someone else to validate your worth. You can show it. One strategy, one story, and one system at a time.

Whether we end up using a cloud system or a notebook with intention, my goal is the same. Let’s make the work easier. Let’s make the decisions clearer. Let’s make sure the heart of the mission doesn’t get lost in the process.

A Voice in the Sector: Writing, Speaking, Leading with Purpose

I write and speak because I believe clarity is a form of care.

I want nonprofit leaders to know that they deserve good systems. Not because it looks impressive, but because their work is sacred.

I talk about systems justice, data protection, and the right every community has to well-built infrastructure. But I keep it simple. I want the clinic in Lagos and the grassroots team in Oakland to both feel like tech belongs to them.

Mentorship is not an extra thing I do. It’s part of who I am. I remember being told I was too soft, too structured, or too hopeful. Now I see those as my strengths. And I help others do the same.

Sometimes I mentor by reviewing a deck. Sometimes it’s a phone call. Most times, it’s just being present and saying, "You’re not alone. You can do this."

My Heart for This Work

I believe systems should not replace people. They should restore them.

Every spreadsheet, every meeting, every decision should help someone feel supported. If I ever teach a masterclass, I’d call it Build With Both Hands: One for Systems, One for People. Because you need both to build something that lasts.

You need data and story. Structure and soul. The future vision and the family wisdom.

I want every nonprofit I work with to walk away with clarity. Not just about their goals, but about who they are and why they matter.

Because good systems give time back to caregivers. They protect the vulnerable. They open up space for grace. And they remind us that we’re building something more than programs.

We are building futures. And with the right tools, the right story, and the right support, those futures can be bright, connected, and just.