There is nothing unusual about a billionaire writing a memoir.
From industrialists in the United States to technology founders in Silicon Valley, successful business figures have long sought to document their journeys, explain their decisions and shape how history remembers them. Nigeria is no different. When Femi Otedola published Making It Big, it was presented as the story of one of the country's most recognisable businessmen—a man whose career has spanned oil trading, power generation, banking and philanthropy.
The book quickly became a publishing event. Corporate leaders praised it. Public figures endorsed it. Social media influencers urged Nigerians to buy copies, often describing it as essential reading for anyone aspiring to build wealth. The message was unmistakable: this was more than a memoir; it was a guide to success.
Then ordinary Nigerians began reading it.
As the first wave of promotional excitement faded, a different conversation emerged—not from celebrities or brand ambassadors, but from readers who had spent their own money and approached the book with practical expectations. Their criticism was not that the book was poorly written or that Femi Otedola's achievements were undeserving of admiration. Rather, it was that the lessons seemed detached from the realities confronting most Nigerians.
That distinction matters.
A memoir and a manual are not the same thing.
The value of a memoir lies in helping readers understand the life of its subject. The value of a manual lies in offering practical guidance that readers can apply to their own circumstances. Making It Big succeeds far more convincingly as the former than the latter.
As I read the book, I found myself repeatedly asking a simple question: Who is this book really for?
Certainly not the university graduate who has spent three years searching for work.
Not the small business owner calculating whether this month's electricity bill will exceed last month's profits.
Not the young software developer earning in naira while paying for global digital services priced in dollars.
Their lives are shaped by a set of economic constraints fundamentally different from those experienced by one of Nigeria's wealthiest businessmen.
This is not an argument against Femi Otedola's accomplishments. By any reasonable measure, he has built an extraordinary career. His willingness to document that journey contributes to Nigeria's business history, and that alone gives the book lasting value.
But context is inseparable from success.
Otedola did not emerge in a vacuum. He grew up in a family already familiar with public life; his father, Sir Michael Otedola, served as Governor of Lagos State in the early 1990s. The book itself reflects encounters with influential figures and experiences that few Nigerians could plausibly claim as part of their own upbringing. That context does not diminish his achievements. It explains the environment in which those achievements unfolded.
Too often, however, discussions about wealth ignore context altogether.
The modern self-help industry has popularised the comforting idea that success is primarily the result of attitude, discipline and persistence. Those qualities undoubtedly matter. But they are not the only variables.
Timing matters.
Networks matter.
Access to capital matters.
Institutional support matters.
Economic policy matters.
And in a country where millions of capable people struggle despite working relentlessly, pretending otherwise risks reducing structural problems to individual shortcomings.
Perhaps this is why many readers have found themselves dissatisfied. They purchased Making It Big expecting transferable lessons. What they encountered instead was an account of a life shaped by circumstances that cannot easily be replicated.
There is nothing wrong with reading billionaire memoirs. They offer perspective, historical insight and, at times, genuine inspiration. The mistake lies in marketing them as universal blueprints.
Ordinary Nigerians searching for practical guidance may find greater value in the stories of entrepreneurs who began with modest means, confronted the same institutional barriers and built sustainable businesses under conditions that resemble today's economic reality. Their victories may be smaller in scale, but their lessons are often more transferable.
That, ultimately, is the challenge with Making It Big. It tells the story of how one remarkable Nigerian became extraordinarily successful. It does not, and perhaps cannot, tell millions of ordinary Nigerians how to do the same.
Recognising that distinction is not a criticism of the book. It is simply an acknowledgement that in a deeply unequal society, success stories are not always roadmaps. Sometimes they are exactly what they claim to be: the record of a singular life, lived under singular circumstances.
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