Mr Bademosi and the Story of a Fighter Brand.

That Sunday night in the peaceful town of Ondo people, all the doors were locked and the people went to bed as early as 7pm. There weren't so much to do after the dusk in the peaceful town of the Ekimogun. Dinner was served as early as 6pm and everyone my age would be putting their school bags together for the following day. I was barely in my teens and I remember we were already having our baths behind closed doors. Dinners were usually sumptuous and quite elaborate. Pounded Yam and Obe Ila asepo. For the uninitiated, Obe Ila asepo is an okra soup that has all the good things of life stewed into it. Black fish, prawns, all sorts of peppers except tomatoes. Tomatoes are for weaklings. Then went into it all the scented leaves that make an Ondo person a stubborn lot. The boys pounded the yam while the girls cooked the soup. And there were those who had to hold the mortar in place for the heavy pounding. If your fingers were mistakenly in the way, they were as good as gone. Most of us developed our muscles from pounding yam for the family.

Depending on the number of people in your family, triceps and biceps are commensurate to the number of mouths you were going to pound the yam for. My father had more than ten wives and it was a Kingdom of mouths.

When all the mouths were fed and gone, the night would begin with my father and I. He would come knocking on my door and my mother knew it's time to let go. It's the ritual of the night and I was the sacrifice.

 'Men don't sleep at night. Only women and children do.'

So our night would begin with keeping vigil for the rest of the family. I was not the only boy but I was the only boy back home. The onus was on me to keep vigil with Mr Bademosi. I would hold a Grandpa torch in one hand and a long stick in another hand. And I would be assigned a side of the large compound. Each soldier , my dad and I , was assigned to a territory. Every ant crawling by the compound was a suspect. I was trained to be paranoid of spiderwebs hanging on our brick walls. I didn't have a gun but I was meant to face any oncoming intruders. It could be a very bad night if I had taken so much pounded yam as things would go draggy and painfully slow.

This very night, like every other night, there were no impending danger or so it seemed. The street was very quiet but for the sound of a flowing stream behind our barn. And then something happened.

A pebble hit me from nowhere. It's war. This might be the night we had been prepping for all our lives. We had envisioned a night would come when we were all asleep and the enemies would come attack. They would have to meet us prepared. The hairs on my back stood taller than me. I quickly put the torchlight off and jumped into an unfinished apartment in the compound.

Then it started raining pebbles of stones. I knew the end had come. I couldn't sight my Commander in Chief. I narrowly missed a pebble aiming at my head, so I knew the enemy knew where I was hiding. I pitied my Mom. I was the only male child. I couldn't call out to anyone. I had been trained that I had to face the shit when it hit the fan. I had been trained that life is a journey and we are almost always all by ourselves. I had been warned that my primary assignment was to protect the women and the children in the compound; even if I had to die for them.

Then I stood up with the last breathe in me. I faced the battle head on. All I had was a stick, my torchlight and myself. I put one foot forward and took ten back. No one was there to help me. I had to fight.

In one quick moment a very heavy hand descended on me and dragged me further into the dark walls. He was my dad and he hushed me not to raise my stick. The Vigil for the night was over. He was only testing if I was ready for the unforeseen. I don't know if I was really ready but I gave it my best shot.

We are never really prepared for the unforeseen but we must always give it our best shot. As we begin to build on our personal brand equity in the marketplace, those pebbles are going to rain on our parades but we must always remember that we have a duty to protect our territory come what may. I have been watching two major battles against two popular brands in recent times. Apple and Obama.

Apple's territory is Innovation and it's the job of the Management to protect it. Obama's territory is THE AMERICAN DREAM . It's never over until it's over and we owe it to our brands to give it all that it takes. At Orange Academy, we have a large room we tag THE BRAND WAR ROOM. This is where our students fight for every idea they are pitching to future employers and clients. It's not about winning. It's about the fighting spirit. Life is a bitch of a battle and it's very crucial you have a fighting spirit.

Your idea is great but you have to fight for it. Your resume for the job is well put together but you have to pitch it. Your experience on the job is impressive but you have to put in the window. Pick your stick and your torchlight and yourself and go protect your brand territory. It takes a great while to build a strong territory for your brand but it is never over. When the doors are shut. When the lights are out. When the night comes, you have to stay awake working it out. One more business contact to make. One more blog to publish. One more tweet to go.

It's your territory and no one will protect it for you. Remember you don't win all the times but you must fight for it. Leader brands fight. Fighter brands fight. Life is a bitch of a battle and it's very crucial you have a fighting spirit. Have a great day ahead of you.