Funsho Install, The Brain Behind Just Swanky Clothing

Background

My name is Funsho Adewale, better known as Funsho Install. I am a student of Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Ogun State. I am in my final year, studying International Law and Diplomacy. I grew up in Mushin area of Lagos state. Childhood was not all perfect but we thank the Lord. Time changed, I learnt the hard way.

Business Inspiration
I am a short guy and I wanted to be relevant. So I started something small to get people's attention. I am giving hope to short guys in a way. You know, girls like tall boys but I noticed if you are short and rich, girls would still come running. I however did not start my business because I wanted girls to come after me. The truth is, if you put a girl or lady before your career or business, one can never be successful.

Parental Model
Both parents own businesses. I more like took after them, so to say.

Motivation
God first, focus on the career then every other thing next. No business is easy. My destination is my motivation. I know what I want so I will not give up now. I basically also work alone but I am gradually building my team.

Capital and Entrepreneurship
Capital? Well, capital is needed but I started with my pocket money and I am still growing.

Role Model(s)
I really don't have a particular role model, but if you do your business right and clean, I respect you. On the other side however, I respect Wizkid. He motivates me a lot.

Advice
Start small, stay focuses and pray

Leisure
I record songs and play basketball. Olufunsho by Funsho Install is out. LockUp is also ready for release.

Comments

Dear Friend,

On this day last year, I wrote about the buildup of events that led to my dad’s passing. I also said that day started the most chaotic year of my life. I didn’t lie. Today, on the second anniversary of his death, I thought to write to you about grief and how I have dealt with it because, in truth, grief does not leave you; it just gets better. Over the past year, across my social media platforms, I talked a lot about how his death triggered emotions in me that I didn't know existed—new descents into the deep, new levels of highs—anything to get into my emotions or consciously get out of the physically overwhelming feeling that was like a weighted blanket most days. Because I lived quite far from home—up north, to be exact—my guardians broke the news to me at the crack of dawn that Tuesday, and I was broken, as anyone who hears bad news is. I was stumped mostly, but yeah, I was broken. The first person I called was my mom, and on answering the phone, she started to say my oriki , w...

The Stranger

Photo by Artur Tumasjan on Unsplash ‘Let me help you out.’ I hear the voice call. I look up to see the brightest smile I have ever seen on a human. Her face is elegant, shiny, and well-structured. She must have seen me struggling with my one too many bags. I love the gesture, so lovely and pure. Genuine and selfless. She has just one box with her and a small bag slung across her chest. She looks happy. I wonder why. ‘You look like you have a lot going on’, she continues. ‘I really do’, I reply with genuine happiness and laughter. ‘Thank you very much,’ I continue in gratitude as I hand over my largest box to her. She looks willing to help, her hand is already stretched out to help. Her offer to help warms my heart. Not often do you meet someone who genuinely wants to help you out with your bags at the airport. At least not here. I rarely get help as much as I get looks and compliments from strangers. The best I can think of is getting a ride, not getting help with my bags at the ...

Mr Lecturer

Photo by Rafay Ansari on Unsplash "Good morning, sir," Chioma said as she entered his small, corner office, her eyes scanning the smelly room: a mix of dampened books and roasted fish. "Good morning. How are you doing?" He responded with amusement; a pool of excitement began to build up behind his bespectacled eyes, like a fat kid who had just laid his eyes on a candy bar. "You asked to see me, sir." Chioma continued as she stood by the door, tightly clutching her bag in front of her. She raised her left heel against the door and held on to the handle still scanning his office. "Yes, Miss Okochi. I asked to see you." He reached for a file from the huge dusty pile on his table, opened it, and gestured to her. "Please, take a seat. Feel at home." "No sir," she responded, her voice very low and shaky, almost a whisper. Her fear was beginning to show up. She worried her fear might not make her win, but she was confident ...

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