The Car Crash That Changed My Life

Have you ever had a near-death experience? I have. Twice.

The first time was in 2016. I was cycling to a work event when my bike jammed, flipping me over and nearly sending me under the wheels of an oncoming bus. In that instant, time slowed. Every memory, every joy, every regret rushed through my mind like a film reel on fast-forward. Then, just as suddenly, hands pulled me to safety. Strangers helped me off the road, brushing me off, asking if I was okay. Within minutes, they walked away. The cars kept moving. The world continued as if nothing had happened.

But for me, everything had changed. That day, I made a silent promise to live as if I had nothing to lose.

Except - I didn’t.

Five Years Later, It Happened Again. This Time, It Changed Me Completely.

It was August 2022. I had just spent a beautiful summer in East Africa, my soul recharged, my heart full. After attending the Paystack offsite in Kigali, a few colleagues and I took a road trip to Kampala before flying to Nairobi. A few weeks later, I headed to London, where I planned to register for my National Insurance - the first step in my big move to the big city.

I was staying with my friend - let’s call her Julia. I had one week in the city, and as luck would have it, it was Carnival weekend.

That Monday was perfect. Julia and I danced in the streets of Notting Hill, losing ourselves in the rhythm, the colours, the sheer energy of it all. We ate everything we could find, laughing over plates of jerk chicken and plantains, sipping on rum punch. We are at Carnival after all. As the sun set, we decided to meet two other friends for dinner on the other side of town. They offered to pick us up, and we gratefully collapsed into the backseat, our legs aching from hours of dancing.

London traffic is slow, deliberate, predictable. But chaos has a way of finding its own path.

We were waiting at a red light when we heard it: a roaring engine, coming fast. Too fast!

Then: impact!

A reckless driver, most likely under the influence of something, crashed into our car, head on. The force was staggering. Our car jolted backward, metal twisting, glass shattering. For a second, everything moved in slow motion, the car spinning, the deafening crunch of steel against steel, the sickening lurch of being thrown against my seatbelt.

Then smoke. Coughing. Blurry vision.

I checked on Julia. Then our friends in the front. We were all in shock but alive. We fumbled to help each other out of the wreckage. Even now, as I write this, I can still feel every moment of that night, the terror, the weightlessness of being at fate’s mercy.

The car was completely written off. Ambulances swarmed the scene, sirens piercing through the night air.

And Then It Hit Me: If I had died that night, would I have truly lived? Would I have done everything I dreamed of? Left my mark?

The honest answer was no. And that realisation made me furious.

I had spent so much time waiting for the right moment to build the life I wanted. But death doesn’t wait. It doesn’t send warnings or invitations. It just arrives. And when it does, the only question that matters is: Did you live?

For the second time, my life was spared. But this time, I wasn’t going to waste the chance.

I paused my move to London and went home to recover.

And as I took time to heal and recover, I start planning. I mapped out the future I wanted - the things I wanted to create, the life I wanted to live. Six months later, I quit my job and took the leap to become a full-time entrepreneur.

So I Ask You: If today were your last, would you be proud of how you lived?

If not, what are you waiting for?

Because tomorrow is never promised.

I’m currently building Borderless, the infrastructure for diaspora investment collectives, for which I’m closing a pre-seed. I also co-founded HoaQ, the largest network of African diaspora angel investors, and helped launch Diaspora House, a community of diaspora real estate investors. I’m active on LinkedIn, so let’s connect there.