I wasn’t sure what to expect when I boarded a bus from Asaba to Enugu that morning. The roads were familiar—I’d taken them before, visiting friends or passing through—but this trip felt different. I was headed to Enugu Tech Fest, my first tech event in the South-East. And more than excitement, I carried a quiet question in my heart: Will this feel like home?
I had worked as a tech journalist in Lagos, where events were aplenty, loud, and fast-paced. I’d attended big-name conferences, seen founders pitch under dazzling lights, and mingled with startup folks speaking in startup lingo. But I always felt like an observer — someone writing about a movement I wasn’t entirely part of. That sense of distance changed the day I stepped into the bustling hall at Enugu Tech Fest.
The venue was enormous, but beyond that, it was alive—a warm, buzzing kind of alive. Young people—students, coders, designers, startup dreamers—gathered in clusters, sharing ideas, laughing, and pitching projects. There were no towering LED screens or sponsored swag bags. What filled the room instead was energy—real, grounded, local energy.
The Unexpected Joy of Hearing Familiar Names
One of the first surprises of the day was seeing names I recognized — not from TechCrunch headlines or Twitter Spaces, but from WhatsApp groups, LinkedIn posts, and regional hubs I’d followed quietly from afar. Here they were, not behind keyboards, but in flesh and voice. They were leading panels on product design, giving lightning talks on bootstrapping businesses, and mentoring students during breakout sessions.
And suddenly, it hit me: this was the tech ecosystem I had been looking for — not imported, not aspirational, but ours.
As I sat in on a panel about community building, moderated by a soft-spoken founder, I realised something profound. The conversation wasn’t trying to mimic Silicon Valley. It wasn’t orbiting around Y Combinator, unicorn valuations, or Lagos VC circles. It was rooted in the realities of building tech in the South-East — from erratic power supply to limited funding, and the creative ways people were navigating these hurdles.
There was no pretense. No one was overselling their success. People talked about their failures just as much as their wins. And that honesty, that humility, felt like fresh air.
Why Belonging Matters
For years, the Nigerian tech narrative has been understandably shaped by Lagos. That’s not a bad thing — the city has earned its status as a startup capital. But it also means that stories from other regions get swallowed or ignored. As someone who had worked in the media, I was complicit in that imbalance. I didn’t mean to be. I just never saw stories from the South-East getting the same coverage, and in time, I stopped looking for them.
But Enugu Tech Fest shifted something in me. It reminded me that the story of Nigerian tech is incomplete without these voices. More importantly, it made me feel like I could be part of telling that story.
At the tech fest, I met a group of students from UNN who were excited about tech, I spoke to a product designer who had started a free mentorship program for women in tech across the region. I listened to an entrepreneur talk about launching an agritech startup, sourcing funding from friends and family, and bootstrapping until they got traction.
None of these stories would have made front-page headlines in the major tech blogs I once wrote for. But here, in this space, they were front and centre.
A New Chapter: Starting My Own Platform
Leaving Lagos for Asaba had been a deeply personal choice. I wanted a quieter life, yes, but I also wanted to explore the idea that meaningful work didn’t have to happen in one place. After the fest, that choice felt even more affirmed.
That weekend, while journaling in my hotel room, a decision I made to start a tech and business blog was reaffirmed, one that would focus on stories from the South-East and South-South. It wouldn’t try to replicate the big players. Instead, it would celebrate the regions that rarely got their shine — the makers in Aba, the coders in Uyo, the designers in Asaba, the founders in Benin.
Enugu Tech Fest gave me more than content; it gave me conviction. It showed me that the ecosystem here wasn’t waiting to be validated by outside attention. It was growing anyway — quietly, steadily, and beautifully. All it needed was someone to notice.
The Beauty of Being Seen
Belonging is an underrated feeling. We talk a lot about scaling, funding, MVPs — but we rarely talk about what it feels like to be in a room and realize, this is for me too.
That’s what Enugu Tech Fest did. It didn’t just inspire me. It embraced me. I didn’t feel like a visitor or an outsider. I felt like a contributor. And that made all the difference.
Looking Forward
Since that event, I’ve connected with a growing network of creatives, entrepreneurs, and tech enthusiasts across the South-East and South-South. I’ve published stories that might never have made it past the gatekeepers in mainstream media. And I’ve watched people in these regions begin to believe more deeply in the value of their own work.
Of course, there’s still a long road ahead. Infrastructure is patchy. Funding is scarce. Ecosystem support varies widely from state to state. But the spirit is here. The ambition is here. And the stories are here.
As I continue to build this blog, I’m reminded every day of something I felt so strongly at Enugu Tech Fest: You don’t have to wait for a seat at someone else’s table. You can build your own.
And when you do, you’ll find that you’re not alone.
You were never alone.
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