In the heart of the bustling city of Ibadan lived Kunle, a man whose life story was the stuff of legend. Born into a modest family, he had grown up in the shadow of uncles, aunts, and cousins who saw him as nothing more than “the boy with big dreams.” They never imagined that Kunle would rise beyond their expectations until he did one day.
Through hard work, relentless discipline, and a little bit of luck, Kunle built a thriving business empire. He started as a trader in electronics and expanded to real estate, transportation, and investments. Before long, he became a household name, with luxury cars parked in his compound and properties across the country.
At first, his extended family celebrated his success—or so it seemed. They praised him at gatherings, calling him “our son,” even though they had barely lifted a finger to support him during his early struggles. But beneath their smiles lurked envy and bitterness. They began to believe that Kunle was getting too proud, too distant. “How dare he outgrow us?” they whispered among themselves.
And so they devised a wicked plan: If they couldn’t control Kunle, they would break him. They plotted ways to frustrate, embarrass, and, if possible, drive him mad. But they did not know that Kunle had a weapon far stronger than their schemes—his unshakeable peace of mind.
The first scheme came during his late grandmother’s burial. It was a grand event, funded almost entirely by Kunle. While he was still grieving, his uncles approached him with unreasonable demands.
“You must buy ten cows and hire the most expensive band,” one uncle insisted.
“After all, what is money to you?” another chimed in.
Kunle smiled. “Uncles, I have already made all arrangements. There will be enough food, music, and drinks for everyone.”
But they weren’t satisfied. They wanted more—and when Kunle didn’t bend to their whims, they tried to provoke him.
“You’ve changed, Kunle. You’re not the humble boy we knew. Or is it because of money?” one sneered.
Kunle only chuckled softly. “Eyin le ma gbadun ounje,” he replied in Yoruba, meaning, “It’s you who will enjoy the feast.” Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving them to stew in their frustration.
A few months later, his cousin, Tunde, came with a business proposal and begged Kunle for a loan. But Kunle had learned the hard way not to mix family and business, so he kindly refused.
“Ah-ah, Kunle, just N5 million. It’s small money for someone like you!” Tunde pressed, hoping to guilt-trip him.
Kunle smiled warmly. “Tunde, I wish you well. But I’ve made it a rule not to give loans. If you need help, I can offer N500,000 as a gift—no strings attached.”
Tunde’s face darkened. “So you think I’m not serious enough for N5 million? You think you’re better than us now, abi?”
Kunle shook his head, still smiling. “No, Tunde. I just believe in peace. And keeping my peace is worth more than any amount of money.”
Tunde stormed out in frustration, only to discover later that the N500,000 Kunle offered was more than enough to jumpstart his dream.
Kunle’s extended family wasn’t done yet. Some aunts gathered to spread a rumour: Kunle had visited a herbalist to gain wealth, and if he stopped making sacrifices, he would slip into madness.
“He doesn’t even greet us properly anymore,” one aunt hissed to another. “It’s only a matter of time before the madness catches him.”
The rumours grew louder. Some family members began showing up uninvited at his home, hoping to catch him in a moment of instability. They hoped to see him shouting at invisible spirits or running naked through the streets.
But Kunle’s response was always the same—calm and cheerful. “Aunties, come in! Have some food. There’s amala and gbegiri in the kitchen.” His kindness only confused them.
Frustrated, one aunt eventually confronted him. “Kunle, aren’t you afraid? They say you’ll go mad if you don’t appease the spirits!”
Kunle laughed heartily. “Aunty, if madness comes from having peace, I welcome it.” He spoke with such confidence that the rumours soon lost their power, and the family had no choice but to give up their scare tactics.
At Kunle’s wedding, his family saw another opportunity. His aunties tried to hijack the event by insisting on controlling everything—from the caterers to the seating arrangement.
“You will let us handle the decorations,” one aunt announced. “After all, we know what the family likes.”
But Kunle gently refused. “Thank you, Auntie. But my wife and I have already decided on everything.”
Feeling slighted, they decided to cause a scene during the ceremony. One aunt deliberately spilt palm oil on the bride’s dress, hoping it would trigger a meltdown.
Kunle saw what had happened, but instead of anger, he laughed softly and leaned into his bride’s ear. “Don’t mind them, love. They want a show, but let’s give them joy instead.”
Kunle and his wife carried on as if nothing had happened. They danced, laughed, and celebrated with such grace that the disgruntled aunties became the only ones looking foolish.
In a last-ditch effort, some family members sued Kunle over a piece of land, hoping the stress of the legal battle would break him. “This is where he’ll finally lose it,” they told each other.
Kunle, however, approached the situation calmly. He hired the best lawyers, attended court sessions without complaint, and never raised his voice. At every turn, he greeted his accusers with smiles.
When the judge ruled in his favour, Kunle simply nodded and walked out of the courtroom, whistling a tune as if nothing extraordinary had happened. The family members who had hoped to see him crushed stood speechless.
Kunle’s extended family never stopped plotting, but they eventually realized that nothing they did could steal his peace. He wasn’t a fool, nor was he unaware of their schemes. He had simply made a choice—to protect his mind at all costs.
“Kunle, how do you stay so calm?” a distant cousin once asked in genuine curiosity.
Kunle smiled the same warm smile that had baffled his family for years. “I learned that peace isn’t something people give you—it’s something you choose. And I’ve chosen peace over everything, even when it’s hard.”
And so, Kunle lived the rest of his days in quiet contentment, untouched by envy, and malice, and forever at peace.
