By Chioma Okpoechi
Behind every strong leader lies a series of quiet mentors — people who saw potential long before the individual saw it in themselves. As I reflect on my career in Nigeria’s oil and gas sector, one truth remains undeniable: I didn’t get here alone. Every step of my journey in supply chain management was influenced by mentors who offered wisdom, encouragement, and belief — often when I needed it most.
When I started out as an intern in Port Harcourt, I was intimidated. I was the only woman in a team of rig movers and heavy-truck operators — a young, unsure intern surrounded by experience and volume. One supervisor told me something that has never left me:
“You don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room to lead. Just make sure your voice adds value.”
He had a loud voice himself, but his words became a guiding principle. They taught me that leadership isn’t about how loudly you speak — it’s about how meaningfully you contribute.
Years later, when I returned to begin my full-time career as a junior buyer, the stakes were higher. My responsibilities grew, and with them came new complexities — negotiating multi-million-dollar contracts, managing logistics across rough terrains, and earning respect in boardrooms that were often skeptical of young women leaders.
Through it all, my formal mentors gave me structure. They helped me build frameworks for decision-making, taught me the art of negotiation, and pushed me to set measurable goals. They equipped me to stand tall in rooms where I once whispered.
But my informal mentors — those unsung heroes — taught me the soul of leadership.
There was the yard supervisor who showed up at 5 a.m. every day and never left until everyone else did. He taught me that leadership means showing up when things go wrong, not just when they go well.
There was the pipeline engineer who told me, “The best ideas often come from those closest to the problem.” He reminded me that innovation doesn’t always wear a title.
There were the women I met at conferences, over lunch breaks, and in long phone calls — women who shared their stories of endurance and balance. We compared notes on everything from career moves to family pressures. They showed me that I wasn’t alone — and that sisterhood in leadership is its own form of mentorship.
Over time, I realized that mentorship isn’t always about scheduled sessions or structured feedback. Sometimes, it’s a quiet word of encouragement when you’re ready to give up. Sometimes, it’s a reality check that pushes you to do better. Sometimes, it’s a door opened when you didn’t even know one existed.
Now, years later, I understand that my greatest responsibility is to be that person for someone else.
To the young women in supply chain and across industries: Your journey will be uniquely yours, but you don’t have to walk it alone. Find mentors in boardrooms, on job sites, or in casual conversations. Learn from everyone — and when you’ve gained your footing, become the mentor you once needed.
“Mentorship isn’t a career stage; it’s a cycle of growth.”
Today, I stand on the shoulders of those who poured into me — men and women whose actions, advice, and belief shaped my leadership. They taught me that true leadership is never achieved in isolation. It’s built moment by moment, through shared wisdom, vulnerability, and courage.
So, to all my mentors, formal and informal — thank you. Your lessons became my compass.
And to everyone reading this: Be intentional about finding mentors, and just as intentional about becoming one. You may never know whose life your quiet guidance might transform — but I promise, someone’s journey will shine brighter because of you.
