We begin the 34th episode of Proof of Life with a small apology for missing last weekend. I was marking a quiet milestone in my own journey. More on that soon.
This week’s guest was worth the wait.
Wole Hammond is a friend who reminds you that purpose does not always arrive in loud declarations. Sometimes it shows up in the quiet consistency of doing meaningful work and staying curious about the world around you.
Wole Hammond
Over the years, Wole has lived many lives. Sustainability strategist. Photographer. Writer. Traveller. Family man. One of my favourite Instagram companions from the era when social media actually felt social.
In this conversation, Wole reflects on the deeper meaning of proof of life, why sustainability is not an abstract concept for Africa, what travel teaches about people, and how creativity can document the small stories that shape our cities and culture.
We talk about kindness in Kigali, policy and development, the beauty of everyday expressions like the words painted on a keke’s windshield, and the kind of legacy that builds systems strong enough to outlive us.
Warning: you will fall in love with Wole’s photos!
Enjoy POL.
Let’s get started. What does “Proof of Life” mean to you in this current season as a sustainability strategist, writer, and photographer?
On the surface level, I think of “proof of life” as that selfie you send to your family and friends after a long time to show them that you’re alive. On a much deeper level, it is what we demonstrate with our lives.
I believe life is a gift, and what we make of it — personally, professionally, and in every other sphere — becomes proof that we have contributed to humanity and, in some way, made the world better.
One day, we will stand before our Maker to give an account. For me, proof of life means contributing to development in ways that serve future generations and using my creativity in meaningful, even cool, ways.
Hammond is not a regular surname. What’s the story behind your name, your heritage, and what it represents to you personally?
Its origin is a complex one that I won’t bore you with, but in summary, it is a name that carries such rich history and cultural heritage. It inspires and reinforces my belief that family is love, acceptance, and ‘home.’
You wear many hats: sustainability and development strategist, writer, photographer, project lead. How do you balance these worlds without losing yourself in any one of them?
Thank you very much for this question! There’s really no balance, lol. I try, and sometimes it can be a lot. I think it’s about prioritizing and attempting to balance things as they come. Of course, everyday work is at the top of the list. I use my free time to pursue other interests.
Lately, photography has taken a back seat. It’s been cool doing all these different things because they fuel my creativity. Other times, though, I can’t keep up. For instance, I wasn’t able to fully participate in a joint project with my friend due to a busy schedule at work and some travel.
I think the beauty of it all is having these different commitments — they keep me from falling into a monotonous routine and keep me curious about my world.
You’ve worked on green projects across clean energy, policy, youth skills, and climate action. Which project has stayed with you the most and why? What did it teach you about impact?
I am grateful that I get to work in a field I love and do work that truly matters. A few projects come to mind, from supporting national policy design to engaging communities.
One that stands out is supporting enterprises in the clean energy value chain through accelerator support, including investment readiness and improving governance and compliance. It helped me appreciate the incredible work of operators in Nigeria’s distributed renewable energy sector who are providing solutions in both rural and urban areas to address Nigeria’s poor energy access. Being able to support them as they scale their solutions into new markets — not only lighting up homes but also powering small and medium-sized businesses — is something that has stayed with me.
On the policy and government engagement side, over the years I have learned just how important policy is — it is one of the most consequential tools for development. It has broadened my horizon and pushed me to think more macro: how can we use policies and programmes as tools to empower and transform the greatest good for the greatest number? That is real impact at scale. It has also strengthened my systems thinking and helped me see the bigger picture.
For people who don’t “get” sustainability yet or feel it’s too abstract, what’s the simplest way you’d explain why this work matters right now?
People often feel sustainability is abstract, far-fetched, or not really applicable to Africa. I actually think the opposite is true. At its simplest, sustainability is about asking: how do we pursue development responsibly so that the benefits last, not just for us, but for future generations? It’s about integrating environmental and social considerations into development policies and programmes, and decision-making across sectors, whether that’s construction, resource governance, transportation, finance, or energy.
Sustainability isn’t a luxury concept. Africa is one of the fastest-growing regions in the world in population, urbanization, and economic ambition. The choices we make now will shape our trajectory for decades. If we don’t build systems that are resilient, inclusive, and responsible, we risk deepening inequality and exposing ourselves to greater shocks. So why does this work matter right now? Because growth is happening.
The real question is whether that growth will be thoughtful, equitable, and resilient — or short-term and fragile. For me, sustainability is simply about building in a way that we can be proud of — today and tomorrow.
Your work has taken you across cities, cultures, and communities. What’s your most unforgettable travel memory, and what culture shock taught you the biggest lesson?
One of the biggest culture shocks for me was adjusting to the work week in the Middle East. The week starts on Sunday, with Friday and Saturday as the weekend. It sounds simple, but it took a lot of getting used to. Your internal clock — socially and professionally — has to shift. It reminded me how something as basic as a calendar structure is culturally shaped, not universal.
As for unforgettable travel memories, getting lost at night in Kigali will always stand out. I had a flat phone battery, and the motorbike rider only spoke French but confidently claimed to know the destination. We ended up going in circles for what felt like forever. Eventually, we stopped somewhere, and I remember how eager people were to help. Strangers tried to find a charger for my phone, gave directions, asked questions, and genuinely wanted to make sure I got to my destination safely.
We eventually made it. What stayed with me wasn’t the inconvenience; it was the kindness. The willingness of people to pause their evening and help a stranger restored my hope in humanity in a very simple but profound way. That experience always brings to mind one of my favorite quotes:
“In a world where you can be anything, be kind.” – Zara Bejmyr.
Sometimes, the biggest lessons from travel aren’t about geography, they’re about people.
As someone who documents life through photography, which photo you’ve taken means the most to you and what’s the story behind it?
It’s quite hard to pick a single image. However, I started a series titled “Words on Wheels,” which explores the intriguing intersection of transportation and visual communication.
I’ve always been fascinated by the culture of drivers using their vehicles as artistic canvases and as mediums to communicate messages to the public. This body of work celebrates the creativity and thought behind these written expressions, touching on themes such as self-identity, religious beliefs, personal experiences, and broader societal idiosyncrasies. Over time, this interest has expanded to other forms of urban visual communication, including graffiti and street writing.
One of my favorite images from the series captures the phrase “Jesus welcomes you” inscribed across the top frame of a keke’s windshield. It struck me because of its simplicity and boldness. In the middle of traffic, noise, and daily hustle, there was this quiet proclamation of deep faith.
For me, that image represents what Words on Wheels is about: ordinary spaces carrying extraordinary expressions. It reminds me that even in movement, even in transit, people are telling stories about who they are and what they believe.
You’ve met interesting creatives, activists, and builders along your journey. Has anyone changed how you think about purpose, art, or impact? Tell us that story.
I’ve met a number of incredible people across different fields who have shaped how I think about purpose, art, and impact. I tell myself that one day, I’ll write a book about some of these people. One person who stands out is Seyi Adebote.
His dedication and approach to work and impact are deeply inspiring. What strikes me most about him is his belief that knowledge is not meant to be hoarded. He often says,
“It is not enough to know; our knowledge becomes more useful when we share it with others.”
That idea shifted something in me. It reframed purpose not as accumulation of ideas, achievements, or recognition — but as contribution.
He also believes that impact begins with a “kindness mindset.” Not grand gestures. Not visibility. But small, intentional acts rooted in empathy. That perspective has influenced how I approach both my professional work and my life. Through observing his work, I’ve come to see that purpose doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.
Sometimes, it’s consistent, generous, and quietly transformative.
You can read his reflections on Random acts of kindness here:
Let’s talk Nigeria. As someone deeply involved in sustainability and development, what gives you hope about the country and what genuinely worries you?
I often tell my friends, “I know I sound like a broken record when it comes to Nigeria’s issues.” And to be honest, a lot about the country worries me. I won’t bother rehashing the problems, we all know them.
What gives me hope, though, are the incredible people who still believe Nigeria can work. People who are rolling up their sleeves and doing the hard work of nation-building across various spheres — from public service to civil society, entrepreneurship to the arts. They remind me that progress is not accidental; it is built by committed hands.
I hope that in my lifetime, we at least cultivate the mindset of a developmental state — one that prioritizes long-term planning, institutional strength, equity, and shared prosperity. A country that doesn’t just react to crises, but deliberately designs its future.
That hope, grounded in people, is what keeps me engaged.
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Food, people, and place shape our experiences. What meals, cities, or communities have left a permanent mark on you while traveling or working?
I wouldn’t say I’m the most adventurous when it comes to food, but a few meals have definitely left a mark on me: Jordanian mansaf, French beef bourguignon and Zambian nshima. In terms of place, Switzerland’s landscapes almost feel unreal. It is pristine, orderly, and cinematic.
One of my most unexpected and amusing experiences was seeing a Bedouin man riding a camel on the rugged landscapes of Petra, Jordan, blasting a Rema song from his speakers. As soon as he saw me, he shouted, “Oh what’s up, brother!” It’s always special hearing Afrobeats in unexpected places around the world.
This moment was a reminder of how culture travels, connects, and quietly reshapes spaces far from home.
With all your academic and professional experience from urban planning to sustainable communities, what’s one hard truth about development work people don’t talk about enough?
One hard truth about development work is that it’s far less technical than people assume. It’s deeply political, shaped by incentives, power dynamics, and institutional realities. You can design the most thoughtful policy or urban plan, but if the governance structures aren’t interested or aligned, implementation becomes the real challenge. Another uncomfortable reality is that progress is slow and rarely linear, meaningful transformation takes time and requires a lot of patience.
In the development space, there’s a lot of language around “stakeholder engagement,” but meaningful inclusion is harder than it sounds. Development can unintentionally become something done to communities rather than with them. Truly centering people requires humility and a willingness to co-design solutions.
When work slows down and it’s just Wole, not strategist or photographer, how do you rest, reset, and reconnect with yourself?
I try to do the simple things. First, sleep. Proper rest is underrated, and sometimes the best reset is just allowing myself to pause without guilt. I also write occasionally, nothing formal, just reflections to clear my head. I’m trying to read more and be more intentional about spending less time on social media, because I’ve realised how much mental space and time it quietly takes.
Catching up with family and friends grounds me. Those conversations remind me who I am. And I love taking walks, especially visiting the park.
Looking ahead, what kind of legacy do you hope your work leaves behind in sustainability, storytelling, and impact building?
If I strip everything down, I hope my work contributes, in whatever small way, to building a [Nigerian] civilisation. Not just projects or policies, but systems that endure. If, years from now, some of the systems I’ve worked on are still serving people well, and some of the stories I’ve told still make people pause and reflect, that would be enough.
Finally, drop one random, reflective, funny, or profound thought that’s been living rent-free in your mind lately. No filter.
Recent reflection: It’s almost always better to ask the question than to internalise the assumption. So much resentment, confusion, and distance comes from stories we create in our heads without verification. A simple, honest question can save relationships, partnerships, even projects. Clarity is underrated.
Thank you,Magic Wole! I have enjoyed curating this, and I believe our POL lovers will cherish this episode.
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From an honest paragraph in the collective to a full conversation, this episode belongs to Keyu—a recent graduate standing at that familiar edge where fear and possibility wrestle for space. You know the phase. The phase that defines the true meaning of “na now life start”.
