I blew into the icy air, and my warm breath made smoke signals. I could make shapes; it was fun until my dad lightly scolded me that it wasn’t ladylike to pretend to smoke, which I didn’t understand because my aunt smoked all the time. I wasn’t pretending to smoke; I was good at making shapes in the air. Just like I was great at blowing the biggest bubbles with my gum. Nevertheless, he told me to behave responsibly because customers were approaching.

My finger tips, which protruded from my Woolley gloves, had turned a shade of purple with the cold, but instead of warming them in my pockets. I continued handing packets to my dad from the box. The market was waking up, and my dad was displaying his merchandise with pride. Our stall wasn’t big, and I don’t know how much money it brought in, but his Saturday morning little side job kept us busy.

I learned from my dad everything I needed to know about money, savings, banking, insurance, and above all, being frugal. I questioned him and he taught me. That is how the entire process of entrepreneurship intrigued me. It was then, as a little girl, that I began dreaming of owning my own business. I didn’t know what or how; all I knew was that it was what I wanted to eventually accomplish.

I clearly remember that day at the market with my dad, when I stood in front of my first leased office space and admired the name of my business on the plaque. It was a chilly day, that day too, and although not cold enough to blow smoke signals in the air, I remembered how it all began, how my little dream became a reality. Yes, it takes hard work and dedication, and I knew nothing really about running a business except what I learned from my dad and at school. He wasn’t a big businessman, and I never dreamed of making it big either; I just wanted to run a successful business. I wanted to be my own boss. I wanted to live my dream.

I spent the early years tirelessly working, day in and day out. In the beginning, you wear every hat because there is no other choice. Putting processes in place, contemplating decisions, and weighing endless options. My dad would tell me, I was working too hard; You have your whole life ahead of you, enjoy it. He’d say. His little business made him a little extra money. At nineteen, my business became my bread and butter. I later juggled children, home, extended family, and no doubt, little by little, the burdens accumulated, and stress seeped through from all angles. I had no time for myself. Yet, year after year, when I saw the results, the numbers, and the growth, it all became worth it.

I became responsible and level-headed. I micromanaged, controlled, and persevered. My business taught me a lot of life lessons; it taught me how to deal with people, finances, and myself. I grew with my business, from a teenager to midlife, from debt to self-financing, from no time to being able to balance. I became a leader. The most gratifying feeling is to be able to give a job to someone who needs it. I taught many people what I knew, and perhaps in some insane way, I became a part of their dream. People don’t realise that when you support a small business, you’re also supporting someone’s dream. You’re believing in someone’s vision, you’re contributing to someone’s success.

I look back now at the legacy I leave behind, the empire I built, and the people I touched. Three decades later, when I stepped down, I looked back at the building that held my entire dream. I can never forget how I gave birth to my company. I would tell anyone to follow their dream because in anything you set out to do, you can most certainly want success, even have a vision and work hard, but if you don’t have the dedication and passion inside you to follow it through, no one on the outside can manifest that vision for you. It’s better to have a dream fail than kill it without even trying. No one can make smoke signals for you; they come from within at the right time.