How I Got Here.

The Journey.

Life is the most unserious serious thing I know. A crazy concept, you wake up one day, certain you'll be an engineer, wake up the next day convinced you're meant to be a doctor, or lawyer. it's in the little moments, maybe when you give a health tip, build a carton car, turn on the generator or speak good. and by the weekend you're googling "how to know if you are destined for greatness."

I've been on that boat my whole life — wandering, growing, surviving and quietly trying to understand why I felt different, why the world felt heavy, and why words felt like home even before I understood what writing really meant.

My name is Abdulsalam Suleman Adinoi. You can remove the "Oluwashina" for now; I'm still making peace with it, My mother swears they gave me that name because I "opened doors of beautiful things" after birth. I believe her, mothers have a way of knowing things before the world does. And as a proud Kogi/ Ebira boy, culture is not something I wear; it's something I breathe. I've always wanted the "Adinoi" around, on my certificates, Before the “Oluwashina” and truly, I was the only one amongst my other siblings that had "Oluwashina" as a third name. Others had their native names first before the Yoruba name. i felt Yoruba through, I loved it though.

I was born, and raised in Lagos, the city with too much going on and just enough chaos to make you creative. Lagos is spiritual, conscious, loud, ridiculous, holy, sinful, and alive. Living here is like attending a masterclass on humanity: the plot twists, the humor, the heartbreak, the daily survival olympics. The city taught me early that stories don't live in books alone, they walk on the streets.

I'm a storyteller, author, prose writer, and culture lover/activist. I write essays too, it's harder for me than writing a novel, I love reading essays, just call my attention to an essay, and I will love you forever. I hate mathematics, mathematical expressions and equations, maths gives me anxiety, I am numerophobic, really! It was so hard for my parents to admit that I didn't know maths, especially because I did well in other subjects.

I'm more of a storyteller, than a writer, just that the concept of "writing" just brings it all together and I think it's the umbrella that holds all of my versions.

I love reading poems,I love poetry, but I can't write it to save my life , I respect poets deeply. I love them, they're beautiful. they say so little, express few and allow you to connect. Wow! I've always loved prose, it allows me see the real things, and craft those narratives completely. And for my hobbies, I really can't say, I get bored easily, I love cooking (I think I'm a good host) I love going to the beach too. I love football, i’m a big fan of Juventus, and sometimes Manchester United. Loving Juventus was a bold, unconventional choice, an Italian team, and here at home, most of us pick our favorite football clubs from England, and in Spain; only Barcelona and Real Madrid.

My real awakening began the year i left home at ten for boarding school, Epe grammar school, it's. A decentralized universe where discipline and dysfunction lived side by side. I entered as a shy, religious boy with big eyes, and bigger questions. The culture shock was intense. Suddenly the world wasn't as simple as "be good, pray well, behave." I saw favouritism in 4k, politics playing out an ongoing drama series, and bullying disguised as "character development." The system that was supposed to straighten us out started bending us. It was only later things started to change, for us that started young, we couldn't express power as much as we wanted when we got higher, and it was really different from the ways our past seniors treated us, things changed and we were suppressed instead, it's a good thing. Maybe, we had moments where we said “if I enter S.S 2/3 lasan, all these juniors go suffer for my hand”. Unfortunately, it didn't happen the way we wanted.

That place sharpened my vision. I was a Science student, I joined because I was capable, I could handle it, except that I got tired, after figuring what I wanted (my love for literature)

I became the boy who noticed the little things, the silences heavy with unspoken stories. The laughter that was hiding something, the prefect punishing others to survive his own fear. Maybe that was when the storyteller in me woke up, not loudly, but like a creature taking notes behind my ribs, I wanted to challenge, just challenge.

I had allies too, my Teacher, Mr Bashir, saw something in me I didn't yet understand. He took me under his wing, he literally moved me from where I was to his own hostel. He had waited persistently for me to accept coming. and when I moved in, he treated me like a son, told me I had "a light that shouldn't be wasted" and for the first time, I believed I had something worth nurturing. Back then, I gave small admonitions to my fellow Muslim students: uprightness, morality, the usual, with the confidence of a 40 year old reformer inside a 14 year old boy. I became open to a small group, talking to them was beautiful, sharing what I knew was amazing.

Boarding School did all, it made me an observer, it taught me to see the pauses in people's voices, the shadows behind their bravado, the things they didn't say. And for someone who would grow into a storyteller, that was the beginning. I didn't know it yet, but every shock, every question, every small heartbreak was material, not for writing alone, but for understanding the world and my place inside it. I just saw myself in others, I always thought of the new generation, the stories we missed, our history, the things we don't talk much about and truly, I didn't want to join the crowd, I wanted to be one of those who bridge the gap, who connects these stories, who does the research and make it appealing and accessible to those who don't know, it's like wanting to tell them in the best ways they can relate. I also realized that I'm meant to write because it's harder to get the mic at events, conferences or wherever, you just don't get to share your ideas just like that, especially in a society where older people rule. Just commot mind. I was young, I thought of writing as a safe place where I get to express myself fully, as an individual and then maybe give the world what I had. That was it, that was what led me to writing.

a lot happened, the heartbreaks, the losses, the moments where I realized the world doesn't always return what you give it, or simply: you don't always get what you want. My mental health was dealt with.

It did broke me, but it also rebuilt me, this time, I was sure of the path I was trailing.

It pushed me deeper into solitude, and honestly, that was where the magic started. When I'm alone, I become dangerously productive. My mind becomes a conference room where three to four invisible people debate ideas with me. My room or space sometimes was always filled with papers in my head or on the floor. That's where I learned intentionality. That's where the essays, the novels in my head, The perspectives began forming their own ecosystem. Being introverted wasn't a flaw— it was my forge. Just don't let me be alone. Ahhh. Ahh!

Everything happened, the balance I tried to maintain collapsed like a poorly built tower, I tried to get hold of other important things in my life, academics, relationships, wellbeing, and everything that makes us us. I drifted, as I only wanted to write. I wasn't really interested in other things, I just wanted to watch interviews that had Seun Kuti in it, Wole Soyinka, Chimamanda, Adedamola Adefolahan, Ayanfe Olarinde, Khaled Hosseini, Arundhati Roy, Ebuka Obi Uchendu,Arojinle and many others, I just loved to hear them speak.

I had been reading few novels, from then; ideological books, I had been watching, absorbing, and basically, I wasn't one who read too many, or watched too many, I just went to the few ones I trusted, just to improve myself. and even just one book, one film, is enough for me to get deep, I see beyond the storyline, I try to understand why each character did this and that, and sometimes I go back to connect with my favorite characters in reality, by following them or watching interviews, I do that too for authors. I learned to be less judgemental. I just saw beyond what others see in art.

Tales of King Arthur, a book I had read back then in primary school, one that made me love history, I was drawn to historical fiction since then, silently. A thousand splendid Suns, Half of a yellow sun, Aké, The Years of Childhood(one of those books I'd never complete, it's been years since reading). Movies like Titanic, The Antichrist (my dad had bought the disc since I was small, it exposed me to a lot about the dark world, fame, and deeper stuff), documentaries that revealed worlds I couldn't touch, all of it had planted seeds. I loved dialogues too,I'm a very good listener, I pay so much attention when the matters are about relationships, our differences, life, chaos, love, and everything. Writing became the tool, the microscope, the lifeboat.

The strange thing about this process is that it also softened me, ironically, heartbreak taught me to be nicer and not let that- that happened change who I'm supposed to be or what I'm, I had spent my life pointing at flaws, at imbalance, at cruelty, without fully feeling it myself. Experiencing life's quite persistent misalignment made me understand – truly understand – that everyone is carrying stories we do not see. Writing also became the bridge between observation and empathy, narrative and truth. I just think we all have a story to tell, we all want to, we all do tell them, whether by documenting or speaking. I wanted to tell mine and others'.

And yet, there was humor tucked in everywhere, as life insists on reminding us. I laughed at my own dramatic tendencies, the way I would overthink, overplan, and overfeel. I realized that even in solitude, I could be ridiculous – debating with invisible people, correcting their grammar, telling them to "sit down, we're not done yet" and they say "wake up, it's time to work," and then laughing at my own absurdity. That absurdity became part of my voice. The humor that would soften the edges of the heaviness I carried in press.

And then, I met Wande and The Echo Magazine team(You should check them,one thing I'd always say) how that happened, what it changed for me, I had been walking around mentally tired, emotionally exhausted, unmotivated, suicidal thoughts creeping in and out, spiritually buffering.. then someone in this case, Akinwande Oluwadamilola Ayomide, looked at me and said "I see you". Those words can resurrect a dying soul. She told what plan she had, bringing people like me and her together— artists and unique creatives to a safe space, as students, and as young people trying to be bold, it was beautiful when she told me, I got her message and just like that, I found myself again. Through Wande, and amazing people like Salamat Adedokun, and Muadh Adams, I unlocked sides of myself I didn't know needed sunlight. The growing Editor, The Storyteller, The Leader. The boy who used to struggle to speak found his voice, and even better, found a place to use it. I know already what I want, and I'll get it.

As I grew, I discovered a simple truth: you can't write truthfully until life humbles you. Until you have pains left or whole, until you stop judging and start understanding, until you see people not as problems but as stories.

Until there are more questions like "what could have been, if this was in place what if this person had the opportunity, or wasn't born here or there"

what brings us together, the humanity in us, the instinct to care for another's suffering or to respond to a failing world— should never be neglected. I don't want to neglect it.

I also realized another thing: I'm expressive in a way that unsettles some people..

I see too deeply.

I feel too heavily.

I observe too sharply.

Some think I'm judging them, and it's because I know so many people that are suffering, I ask well about them, and really I'm just collecting emotional data for later use. I go all in, I draw inspiration from what had just passed that you didn't see, I notice the single hair growing sideways,I see the dots.

My friends are used to it, I get closer to you for functional reasons, I see how you could help me already, and when it's time, I ask the questions, I'm so inquisitive, I want to know,

My philosophy grew from all these experiences:

Do no harm. Take no Shit.

It sounds funny, I just think kindness,sometimes without boundaries becomes suffering. So now I'm gentle, but not soft. Being intentional doesn't come with me not being human or allowing me do me.

I'm patient, but not passive.

Compassionate, but not blind.

I like people, but I do not like them stepping on my neck.

And through all this, the upbringing, the heartbreak, the culture, the Chaos – I realized something undeniable:

I didn't choose writing, writing chose me. Or fairly, we chose each other at the exact right time.

I write because it is the one place all my versions agree.

The Lagos boy.

The Extremely shy child.

The challenger of norms.

The cultural son of Ebira blood.

The observer who sees more than he says.

The man who carries four invisible voices in his head.

The person who feels deeply but speaks carefully..

Writing gives me freedom – to speak where microphones will not reach me, to challenge corruption without begging for a platform, to tell stories that matter, to preserve the histories people ignore, to give language to feelings we are too afraid to confess.

I write so I won't drown.

I write so others won't drown alone.

I write because it is the only thing that has never abandoned me.

Just me and my small device.

And Maybe – just maybe, everything I've lived, survived, questioned, learned, loved, lost, and carried was preparing me for this.