In 2001, a man looking to buy a bank in Nigeria created a buzz in the financial world. The news caught everyone’s attention because this individual did not come from a wealthy background but was a 32-year-old banker who, through hard work, had become one of the most respected financial professionals in the country. His name was Aigboje Aig-Imoukhuede and he was on his way to creating a legacy in Africa.
His journey began while still a boy, in 1971, just after the Nigerian Civil War, when an epiphany struck him as he was stranded at an airport in Kaduna, Nigeria.
“I went to the airport to come home from school and I remember vividly that Nigeria Airways was the only airline available, which was a state-owned monopoly, and they had atrocious services. I got to the airport and I was left to go get my ticket at the age of 11. With all the hustle and bustle, I didn’t get on the plane and I remember standing on the tarmac, with the other losers, with my suitcase and I was crying because I wasn’t on it,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
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“People ask me ‘why were you crying? Did you think you were never going home?’. But that wasn’t why I was crying. I asked myself, ‘how come there were other people on that plane and I was left on the tarmac?’ I said to myself ‘it would never happen to me again and I will never be left on the tarmac’. I surround myself with people who think the same way, people who are not prepared to be left on the tarmac.”
With this newfound philosophy, Aig-Imoukhuede’s path started to take shape. At the age of 12, that path became clearer when another realization dawned on him.
“We didn’t have to be rich to go to good schools, go abroad on a holiday, or for your father to own a Mercedes-Benz. But with the economy in very poor shape by 1983 and the structural adjustment program by 1984, the ability of a civil servant to keep their family in that lifestyle was greatly challenged. So we had to adjust and I noticed that adjustment and that was the first time it dawned on me that some kids came from parents who were wealthy and certainly my parents were not. I observed that my father’s brother, who went into the private sector, did not struggle. So I made a career decision at 12 that I was going to work in the private sector.”
Aig-Imoukhuede looked at the leaders of the top multinationals at the time – they all had a legal background so he decided to study law at the University of Benin. After qualifying as a lawyer, he joined the legal department of Continental Merchant Bank in 1988.
“I wanted to be an executive director of a multinational. Merchant banks recruited the crème de la crème. I remember after applying, one of the guys who interviewed me told me that he saw something in me. I was posted to the legal department and that is where everything changed&#8230; From that point, people will tell you, that in terms of professional output, I wanted to be number one,” he says.
Aig-Imoukhuede stood out among his peers. When some members of the senior management team were leaving to create a new bank, Aig-Imoukhuede was headhunted to join the team as the youngest member of staff.
“One of the assignments I was given, one year after they took me, was to get a commercial license for the owner of the bank. So, at 22, I did just that. I relished the challenge. I didn’t think there was anything I couldn’t take on. I was like ‘bring it on whatever it is’.”
Aig-Imoukhuede had caught the financial bug; he wanted to move from the legal side of business and immerse himself in the banking game.
“My friends in banking were 10 years older than me and most were assistant general managers. But I brought something to the table, so they tolerated me and gave me advice. Some of them broke away from the bank to start Guaranty Trust (GT) Bank and they said I should come over with them. I went to GT Bank and I was given the responsibility of setting up what will later on be called retail banking or commercial banking. I hadn’t done it before, I had four people in this team and we started with me leading these people. Very quickly we became the most profitable unit in the bank and every three to six months we were revising our targets,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
With a high staff turnover in the Nigerian financial markets and a culture of poaching at the banks, those who showed loyalty were able to climb the corporate ladder. Aig-Imoukhuede used this opportunity to work in many areas of the bank, including the treasury, financial control and strategy departments. By the age of 32 he was an executive director who was responsible for running the bank in the absence of the managing director and deputy managing director.
His rapid rise, he says, is down to self-belief.
“Some people call it arrogance and I say no, it is just simply confidence. I believe if I set my mind on something… I can do it.”
“I also had this sense to prove that Nigerian professionals were as good as banking professionals or financial professionals anywhere in the world. I didn’t want to be held by Nigerian standards. So if I look at something like a product or an event or a team of people, say I was running the investment bank in GT, I would say how does the investment bank in JPMorgan function and I would say this is how my investment bank must function,” he says.
Aig-Imoukhuede enrolled in a three-month management program at Harvard University to figure out his next move but he would find the answers he needed in the pages of a book.
“My late brother-in-law who had just finished an MBA at Harvard had a conversation with me and I told him I was not happy professionally and it was difficult to come to terms with that because I had just been made executive director and I was the youngest at the time and happily married to his sister, so why would I not be happy?”
“He gave me this book called Buyout, by Rick Rickertsen, who had left Harvard Business School a few years before I went in for this program. It’s a book written for professionals and there was a paragraph that says if you are the type of professional that wants to continue working for other people and help them build their worth, where you get your nice salary and bonuses, then this book isn’t for you. But if you are the type who wants to get into the game and you want to work for yourself then this is for you. After reading the book, I said I know what I want to do; I am going to buy my own bank.”
Aig-Imoukhuede looked at how he would do this and decided he was not going to do it alone.
“Very quickly in life, I determined that there are two types of people you meet, people who enable you and people who disable you. People who disable are not bad people; it is just someone who doesn’t impact you in a way that helps you succeed. Somebody who enables you is somebody who, by your interaction with that person, actually gives you leverage to step up. By the time I left university, I didn’t have time for people who disable me. I also began to build a portfolio of enablers,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
One of those enablers was his business partner Herbert Wigwe. The pair initially met in 1989 when Wigwe was a credit officer and later on in 1991 when they worked together at GT Bank.
“He was my closest friend in the bank and the professional colleague I most respected and I believe vice versa. So in terms of selecting a partner, he was the best person I could choose. I told Herbert, ‘listen we are doing this and we are doing everything we need to run a bank and the only way we can get that reward is if we are risking our own capital. So let’s get out and buy a bank, let’s do it together’. So Herbert’s entrepreneurial juices started running. We didn’t resign immediately, we were still giving GTB 100 percent, and nobody knew and we were talking to owners of banks,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
Initially, Aig-Imoukhuede was only interested in banks that were doing well but the inflated prices made them rethink their strategy. At the time, a lot of banks were struggling and it didn’t take long for these young Turks to find one that was suitable for them.
“I had never [considered] Access Bank and it was never an institution I had an interest in. Somebody said this bank had done a public offer looking to recapitalize and they had not been doing well therefore 51% of the bank was up for grabs if you could raise the money. We looked at it and, with limited due diligence, we said ‘fine we can do it’. It took everything we had; we borrowed money and put it together and invested it,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
Now that they owned a bank, the entrepreneurs had to build trust.
“First of all, the acquisition was deemed to be hostile. We were working somewhere and we were young and we were not the children of rich men, we were 34 when we started and in the eyes of the public, when they knew the full story, all hell broke loose and it wasn’t very easy.”
While trying to gain credibility with the public, they also had to win the votes of the board.
“I delivered a presentation I had been practising for one week. We hadn’t slept in maybe four days. We came up with a transformation agenda and we convinced the board. We presented our track record and the fact that we were risking our own money and everything we had on this venture, so there was an alignment of goals between what we wanted to do, our personal aspirations, and what the bank needed.”
With a resolution signed, Aig-Imoukhuede was appointed Managing Director and Wigwe Deputy-Managing Director. They could now start to transform Access Bank into one of the top banks in Nigeria within five years.
The impact of the bank’s new owners was obvious in just one year. According to Access Bank, the bank doubled its balance sheet, with profit before tax more than the cumulative profit made by the bank in the previous 13 years. The bank’s shareholders fund today stands at over N430 billion ($1.4 billion) with an expanded shareholder base of over a million domestic and foreign investors.
Aig-Imoukhuede attributes the success to three things.
First was the vision.
“Initially our vision was to transform the bank into a world-class financial institution. The idea of this horrible institution taking on the renowned banks was mind-blowing and our mission was to go beyond the ordinary and deliver the perceived impossible and quest for excellence.”
The second factor was the people. Between 2002 and 2012 Aig-Imoukhuede interviewed every person the bank recruited, ensuring they hired the best of the best. Then, finally, the timing was perfect.
“I was in GT Bank representing the bank for the interaction with the government. I could see from what President [Olusegun] Obasanjo was doing that Nigeria was going to enjoy an economic renaissance that was going to be phenomenal. I said to myself if I am going to buy a bank, I am going to do it before these changes in government take off, because otherwise the train would have left the station and it is not that you can’t do it, but it would be much more expensive and difficult to do it if you got your timing wrong.”
With his objectives achieved, Aig-Imoukhuede stepped down as CEO of Access Bank in 2012. He wanted to try something new.
“I am so entrepreneurially driven and not just in the sense of making money, but I knew I would get bored eventually. Also from the perspective of managing an institution as CEO, I don’t think anybody can successfully manage a business beyond 15 years; you will begin to make more mistakes than you should. You will begin to experience diminishing returns. I think a CEO owes the responsibility to his stakeholders to leave at the top of his game. And I knew 15 years would be the maximum. The third reason was that there was a requirement that had been put in place by the central bank that, after 10 years as CEO, you had to leave”, he says.
Aig-Imoukhuede needed to figure out what life after the bank would look like. He knew it had to involve helping and transforming people.
His next venture combined his belief that nobody should be left behind with his vision to build something that lasts for generations. This led to him founding Coronation Capital, a Mauritian-based private equity investment management and advisory company.
“I like sustainability and I don’t like one-hit wonders, things that come and go or a shooting star. I believe in generational institutions, it has to be sustainable and something that would last and leave a legacy.”
“In Coronation Capital you have people that we have told ‘this is how we do it, look at the Access Bank story and let’s find out if there are any more opportunities’. So, when we find the opportunity, we see if we can come up with any compelling stories and then we look at the vehicle we invest with and we attract the people to that investment. We call it the Coronation way,” says Aig-Imoukhuede.
One of those opportunities is Wapic, a company that Coronation Capital is trying to turn into an insurance giant. It is currently the second fastest growing insurance company in Nigeria, says Aig-Imoukhuede.
Aig-Imoukhuede believes that efficient management of the capital market is the only way for Nigeria to become an advanced economy. As the current President of the Nigeria Stock Exchange, Aig-Imoukhuede is well placed to develop the country’s capital market.
“If you are worth $1 million, it will be represented by financial assets of some sort which you will keep somewhere. It could be your pensions or your savings account and you earn and continue to build. If I am someone in Kogi State who needs money to build a factory, I am not going to be able to find you and you are not going to be able to find me to get access to that $1 million. So the capital markets create the infrastructure by which the sources and users of these financial resources interact. The more developed the financial markets are, the more developed the economy becomes.”
Having just turned 50, Aig-Imoukhuede is  launching the Africa Initiative for Governance (AIG) to attract talented people to the public sector.
“I have had a front row seat and seen how the public sector works and I know its weakness and what is clear to me is simple, whenever you have gifted people in the public sector, just like you have gifted people in the private sector, transformation takes place. The difference is that in Africa every gifted person is going into the private sector and nobody is going into the public sector. So I am dedicating resources towards a scholarship and a fellowship, which we have signed with Oxford University’s Blavatnik School of Government who have a fantastic one-year post graduate program, called the Master of Public Policy (MPP).”
Those given scholarships for the MPP course are required to work for the public sector in their respective African countries for five years.
Aig-Imoukhuede is humbled by how far he has come. Spending time with his wife and three children is a priority for him but is not ready to relax yet. For Aig-Imoukhuede it is all about building a legacy and creating an advanced economy in Africa.

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‘When We  Started,  All Hell  Broke Loose’

In the heart of Lagos, the Rose of Sharon Glorious Ministry International is home to an intimate congregation who meet every Tuesday for fellowship and prayer. They are dedicated to a common purpose, to serve God, a vision which has remained intact since its founder, Folorunsho Alakija, made a pact with God decades ago.
“I don’t think I could have got this far if I had not entered into a covenant with God. It was 25 years since I gave my life to Christ. I entered into an agreement that if he would bless me I would serve him all the days of my life,” says Alakija.
The ministry is one of many ways Alakija is keeping her promise to God. Another is through her work with the Rose of Sharon Foundation, a not-for-profit providing care, financial support and scholarships for widows and orphans. In return, God has kept his side of the bargain.
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Alakija is worth a staggering $1.73 billion according to Forbes, making her the fourth richest person in Nigeria and second richest woman in Africa behind Isabel dos Santos. She is the Vice Chair of Nigerian oil exploration company, Famfa Oil, which shares a joint partnership agreement with international giants Chevron and Petrobras. With a 60% stake of block OML 127 of the Agbami field, one of Nigeria’s largest deepwater discoveries, Famfa Oil produces approximately 250,000 barrels of crude per day, according to Alakija. Having just turned 65 in July, Alakija has a lot to be thankful for. She is blessed with a dedicated husband, four sons and grandchildren. Alakija’s feet are firmly on the ground but her journey to becoming one of Forbes’ 100 most powerful women in the world began with an encounter 36,000 feet above sea level.
“I met a friend of mine on a flight on my way to England and she asked me if I could help her partners to be able to lift crude oil from Nigeria. So I called around and set up an appointment with the petroleum minister but he discouraged me. He said are these people willing to invest in Nigeria because the government did not want to encourage more foreigners to come and lift its crude. I asked my friend who said they didn’t want to invest in Nigeria and that was the end of that,” says Alakija.
With that, the new oil opportunity came to an end. But her dogged determination transformed this negative conclusion into one of the most renowned success stories to come from Africa. This tenacity began at an early age.
“I come from a Muslim background and it was a polygamous lifestyle. My father had eight wives and 52 children. All the wives had to cooperate with each other. To them that was how life was, they cooperated with one another, they quarrelled and made up again, most of us were living under one roof in private bedrooms, I think about four floors of a building, in the heart of Lagos Island,” says Alakija.
Born into a family of traders, Alakija cut her teeth in the textiles trade while still a child.
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“My siblings and I used to help my mum in the store and that is where we learned a lot about textiles, textures, colors, patterns and merchandizing. That is where I learned all the practical steps that I later on applied to my fashion business.”
The fashion business came after her stint in the corporate banking world. After qualifying as a secretary in Britain, a place where she also went to school from the age of seven to eleven, Alakija worked as an executive secretary with the bank, Sijuade Enterprises, in Lagos for a year and a half before joining the International Merchant Bank of Nigeria.
“I joined them as a secretary and I was there for about 12 years. I was promoted to other departments of the bank, including heading the corporate affairs department. From there I moved into proper banking, working in the treasury department. I loved it because I was trading with the bank’s money to make money for the bank. Later on, the bank was expanding and they started putting extra cogs between the wheels to ensure that people did not get promoted too fast to get to top positions within the bank. So I asked myself, ‘how long will it take me to get from a treasury officer to a general manager?’” says Alakija.
She quit her job and decided to study fashion design. She enrolled in the American College in London as well as the Central School of Fashion where she obtained a distinction. Immediately after that, Supreme Stitches was born and Alakija became renowned for her haute couture range, which was worn by women around the world.
Alakija says divine intervention persuaded her to rename her fashion business.
“I rebranded to Rose of Sharon House of Fashion because God gave me a revelation that I needed to change the name. It was a revelation initially given through a pastor but I decided I was not going to change it until I heard from God myself. I had a dream a year after the prophecy was given and I saw the new name on the body of my van in the dream and I changed it overnight,” says Alakija.
Then came her foray into printing. Alakija established the Rose of Sharon Prints and Promotions, as well as Digital Reality Prints.
“I wanted a new challenge; I was getting bored of the fashion business… the [printing] business did well for the first couple of years before it got into trouble,” she says.
The Lagos State government clamped down on the printing business because billboards were clogging up the skyline. Sales for her fledgling business plummeted.
“At some point when I went abroad, I saw some printing machines and realized that those were the similar kind of machines I had been shown in [a] dream but those were for offset. I went into the wrong type of printing out of disobedience and ignorance. I misunderstood and I was excited with the large format machines so I didn’t do too much homework into trying to find out more about the pictures that I saw in my dream. So I eventually got into the offset printing five years ago. And it’s been a success. We started out with 30 people and now we have about 100 employees,” says Alakija.
There was a smooth transition from the fashion business into mass-produced t-shirts. Demand for monograms, screen-printing and picture transfers on t-shirts increased. The company set up four departments, including a souvenirs department where they imported souvenirs and gift items from China. Ever the entrepreneur, Alakija was still on the lookout for the next big thing.
Alakija’s encounter with her friend on the flight to England was fortuitous. After her friend decided not to invest in the Nigerian oil industry, Alakija decided to make use of her new contact, Maryam Babaginda. Maryam was the wife of Ibrahim Babaginda, the former president of Nigeria under military rule. As a customer of Supreme Stitches, Maryam was able to secure another appointment for Alakija with the petroleum minister, Jubril Aminu.
“I went back and told the petroleum minister that I would like to render other services, like catering for the oil industry. He said there were already so many caterers on board, various ships on the high seas, and as a result, there were no opportunities available.”
Although disappointed, Alakija did not give up. She decided to do some more homework. After consultations with a close relative who worked for the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), she was advised to offer transportation services for the petroleum industry. It took a long time to get another meeting with Aminu.
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“I finally got another opportunity and I wrote an official letter saying I would like to offer transportation services to the oil sector. The minister’s feedback was he didn’t think it was a good idea because the government would soon be doing away with the trucks that were being used to transport crude oil and replace them with a lot more pipelines instead. So I said ‘what am I going to ask for now?’”
“He said ‘why don’t you think of exploration?’. He said the government wants to put the resources of its land in the hands of its nationals, because it feels that it is about time that Nigerians begin to exploit its own resources rather than let multinationals continue to take away our wealth. I had given up at this point. I thought he was being sarcastic and he didn’t want to help all along,” she says.
Alakija cried all night. It felt as if a major door had been closed. After seeking consolation from her husband, Alakija went on to inform Maryam of the outcome of the meeting.
“I told her that it was bad news and that the petroleum minister wants to give me a heart attack. I went back to do a lot more homework and consulted with a friend of my husband who was already in the oil business. At the end of the research, I decided to not give up and officially apply for an opportunity to get an oil block,” says Alakija.
Before submitting her letter, Alakija had already found her technical partners and it was now a waiting game. To her surprise, the oil minister was replaced and Alakija had to restart the whole process again. She kept pushing. Everything seemed to be going according to plan when the second oil minister was also replaced.
“At this stage I still wasn’t ready to give up. The third minister finally wrote me a letter to tell me my application was receiving attention after two years. I got the letter and I cried my eyes out in frustration again at the snail’s pace progress the application was making,” says Alakija.
Swaying from one military coup to another, the Nigerian political climate was volatile during the 1990s. While on holiday in the Philippines, news broke about yet another change in the Nigerian regime. Alakija’s oil application was still being reviewed.
“I raced back to Nigeria to find that the current administration had already done the oil block allocations before they left power and my license was waiting for me. It took three years of not taking no for an answer and going back each time the door was shut in my face,” says Alakija.
She finally had her oil block, but the battle was far from over.
“When I was making the application I listed several blocks. I didn’t want to take a chance on someone else taking my block. So I applied for several blocks and the one I was allocated was the one nobody wanted because it was deep offshore and nobody was exploring deep offshore because it was too expensive to explore and there was no technology around to explore that initial depth of 5,000 feet at that time,” says Alakija.
At first, it seemed Alakija had drawn the short straw. She did not have the technology, expertise and money to start the process of exploration. Alakija, with support from her husband, had to use their life savings to secure the license or face losing it after the government threatened to terminate the agreement if full payment was not made. It took Alakija an additional three years to find new partners after her initial partners pulled out. After years of knocking on countless doors, their persistence paid off.
“Texaco was already in Nigeria and looking to expand their business. They went to the Department of Petroleum Resources (DPR), who told them that Famfa Oil was looking for technical partners. So they linked us up. The license we had was not worth more than the paper it was written on until they came in,” says Alakija.
Five years later, Chevron bought Texaco, including the partnership with Famfa Oil.
After receiving a signature bonus, out of which Alakija was able to pay the balance of the license to the government, Alakija started working with her new partners. Chevron set up an office four months after signing the partnership contract, with Alakija holding on to 60% of the shareholding of the oil block and Chevron taking 40%. Chevron later sold an 8% stake to Petrobras in exchange for their deep offshore technical expertise.
“You can find oil, but if what you have spent is more than the quantity of oil available within the block to make your money back in multiples, then it was not worth carrying on and you cut your losses. You could even have a dry hole after spending millions to explore. So when we found oil in commercial quantities, they said they had to announce it to their shareholders and it has been a battle ever since.”
The announcement of the major find in Alakija’s oil block by Chevron attracted the attention of the Nigerian government who had initially assumed that the oil block was one of the worst due to its location. The government snatched an initial 40% stake from Alakija, followed by another 10% stake, leaving her with a meagre 10% stake.
“We felt like it was unfair. We had taken the sole risk and invested everything we had in the business. It had become a family business. We spent six years as a family to ensure this worked out and now that it was bearing fruit, they just stepped in and took away everything we had struggled and worked extremely hard for. I said to myself, ‘Folorunsho Alakija does not give up, my husband does not give up and my children do not give up.’”
Most of her advisers believed it would be impossible to win a legal battle against the government, which, at the time, was notorious for its corruption. Alakija ignored their advice and took the government to court. For her, the case was simple, Nigeria has a constitution and nobody, including the government, is above that constitution. After 12 years of intense legal battle, the courts returned the 60% shareholding back to the family.
“It was bittersweet. There were a lot of sleepless nights and battles. Suddenly we became the plague, friends stopped picking up our calls and people were asking why we could not be content with 10 percent. My husband was a rock, to myself and the family, during that time and I could not have done it without him,” says Alakija.
Dolapo Oni, Head of Energy Research at Ecobank, praises Alakija’s courage.
“Alakija has run a very successful business in Famfa Oil. She was one of the first women in the oil business and her battle with the federal government shows a great deal of tenacity. After they took away her block, she successfully won it back. She was also one of the first women to partner with a joint venture partner, Chevron, which has been very successful,” he says.
Oni, however, feels the oil company needs to branch out.
“I think they are risk averse. Having been as successful as they are, they do not want to explore other opportunities. I personally feel like you have to increase your reserve base, you have to explore other assets and Famfa has traditionally not diversified their holdings in other fields, which I believe could be very profitable for the business as well.”
For now, Alakija seems content. She met her husband, Modupe, a year after she returned to Nigeria from England and they have been married for over 40 years. These days, Alakija spends her time as a proud grandmother and an author, having penned several books, including her autobiography Growing With The Hand That Gives The Rose, The University of Marriage and The Cry of Widows and Orphans.
As Alakija stands amid the melodic songs of praise in her Tuesday fellowship, she is at peace. Interfere with her business, however, and it’s war.

Tag: Merchant Bank

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‘When We Started, All Hell Broke Loose’

A Head For Business And Fists For A Fight