Na Woman She Be

Meetings like that one always start the same way.

You see everyone walking in confidently, laptops open, voices chattering seriously, as if they’re planning the country’s budget. People greet each other with that professional warmth that lasts exactly fifteen seconds before the real business begins.

That morning was no different.

Thirty minutes in, the politeness had already started fading.

Someone was insisting the numbers on the Excel sheet presentation were “preposterous” (English dey cry). Someone else said the timeline was unrealistic. The investor, on the other hand, kept asking the same question in three different ways. “Who is carrying the risk if delivery delays?”

Nobody answered it properly; instead, the conversation kept circling back to price.

Price.

Margins.

Price again.

I made one or two small contributions at the beginning of the meeting. But after a while, the discussion started turning into something else.

One of the men sighed heavily and leaned back. He was older and confident. “See,” he said, rubbing his temple, “this thing too simple for the way we dey drag am.”

He gestured toward two of the men at the table. “Let the people who really understand this thing talk, please.”

Then he glanced in my direction. He was about to say something to me, and then the investor gave me a dismissive glance. “Please, I want to hear from a man,” he added with a small chuckle. “Na woman she be.”

The thing about comments like that is that the room never reacts.

Nobody challenges it. The conversation just keeps moving as if nothing happened.

And in this case, that’s exactly what happened.

I just smiled and continued observing. I observed almost every detail, like the CFO tapping his pen every time delivery timelines came up, or the supplier representative saying “no problem” a little too quickly.

Or the investor leaning forward every time someone mentioned risk, but leaning back whenever the conversation returned to pricing.

It didn’t take long to notice the pattern.

Everyone was arguing about the price of the deal. But the tension in the room had nothing to do with price.

The real issue was Trust. Or rather… the lack of it.

Another twenty minutes passed, and the room got more tense. The CFO closed his laptop halfway in frustration.

“If the pricing doesn’t change, this doesn’t work,” he said flatly.

The supplier shook his head. “Pricing is not the problem.”

“Then what is the problem?” He asked.

The question hung there as everywhere fell silent.

Of course, I considered shutting my mouth; after all, I had already been “politely” reminded of “my place.”

But I spoke anyway. “Maybe the issue isn’t pricing.”

People didn’t exactly turn dramatically toward me like in the movies, but a few heads lifted.

I continued. “I think the issue is the timeline. If delivery delays, the investor carries the risk.”

The investor nodded almost immediately.

“And if the investor carries the risk,” I continued, “he’s naturally going to want more control.”

“And if he wants more control,” I said, looking toward the supplier, “then the balance of the deal changes.”

Nobody spoke for a moment; they had the expression I couldn’t exactly read.

The investor adjusted his glasses. “Well,” he said slowly, “if delivery guarantees were clearer, the risk would be easier to manage.”

The supplier shifted in his seat. “That… could be arranged.”

The CFO nodded and reopened his laptop. “If that’s the case,” he said, “then maybe we should revisit the pricing structure.”

The conversation didn’t magically resolve after that, but the tension that had been stuck in the room for hours finally eased out.

By the time the meeting ended, the deal had come to a considerable conclusion.

As people stood up to leave, the investor passed behind my chair. He paused for a second.

Then he said, almost under his breath. “Well done.” But as he was about to leave, I quickly called him back and said with a smile, “Sir… Na WOMAN I be”

For a moment, he just looked at me, like the sentence had come back wearing a different meaning from the one he gave it earlier.

Then he nodded slowly and walked away.

I sat there for a second after everyone left, staring at the empty chairs around the table and reflecting on all that transpired.