In Ikorodu, Lagos, a young Tunde Onakoya encountered a chessboard for the first time inside a small neighbourhood barbershop in Isale Odo. It was not a formal introduction, nor an environment designed for learning. It was simply a shared local space — a place for haircuts, conversation, and passing time. But in that ordinary setting, something extraordinary began.
What caught his attention was not strategy or competition, but beauty — the intricate carving of the pieces, each seeming to possess its own identity. He did not yet understand the rules, but that did not matter. Curiosity had already taken hold.
Back home, that curiosity turned into action. With cardboard, he recreated the chessboard from memory. With clay, he moulded the pieces. What might have seemed like a child’s improvisation was, in truth, the earliest expression of a mindset that would later define his life — one rooted in creativity, persistence, and self-direction.
When Belief Comes Slowly
At home, however, that passion was not immediately understood. His father viewed chess as a distraction, something that could pull him away from more serious pursuits. Boards were taken away, sometimes thrown out entirely.
That resistance only began to shift when chess produced something tangible. After winning a tournament, Onakoya returned home with a trophy and prize money — about 5,000 naira, a significant amount at the time in 2007. That moment changed perception. What once seemed like a distraction began to look like possibility.
A Game Without a Story — Yet
Chess in Nigeria has long existed in a quiet, uncertain space — familiar to many, but rarely embraced with sustained passion. According to Onakoya, the issue has never been the value of the game itself, but the absence of a story strong enough to hold people’s attention.
Many people encounter chess at some point in their lives — in school, at home, or among friends — but few continue with it. For him, what transforms any activity into something culturally meaningful is not the activity itself, but the people and purpose behind it.
If something is done consistently and well enough, it becomes prestigious. But more importantly, people are drawn not just to what you do, but why you do it. That idea would later become central to his work.
On Women, Strategy, and Old Assumptions
When confronted with the question of whether men are naturally more strategic than women, Onakoya rejects the premise entirely. To him, it reflects social conditioning rather than reality.
He maintains that no gender has a monopoly on intelligence or critical thinking. The visible imbalance in chess participation is not a reflection of ability, but of access and encouragement. Where opportunities are equal, those assumptions quickly fall apart — something he has witnessed repeatedly within his own programmes.
Chess as Something Larger
For Onakoya, chess is not confined to competition, rankings, or trophies. It is something far more expansive — a tool that can adapt to different contexts and needs.
Drawing from The Queen’s Gambit, he echoes the idea that chess does not always have to be competitive; it can simply be beautiful. In educational settings, it supports critical thinking and improves learning outcomes. In rehabilitation and healthcare environments, it has also shown value.
But beyond its functional uses, what matters most to him is transformation. Over time, chess becomes more than a game — it becomes a way of thinking, even a philosophy for navigating life.
The Dream That Was Redirected
Before chess took centre stage, Onakoya had a different vision for his future: he wanted to become a lawyer. That dream, however, was disrupted by an educational system that forced rigid academic paths on students.
Despite his interest in the arts and humanities, he was pushed into science classes because he was considered “too smart” for art — a label rooted in a deeply flawed perception of academic hierarchy. The result was struggle, frustration, and ultimately, the inability to gain university admission.
He now reflects on that experience as part of a broader systemic issue — one that has shaped and, in many cases, limited the lives of countless students. When he later shared this experience publicly, many others responded with similar stories, confirming that the problem persists.
While his own life eventually found direction, he remains aware that his outcome is an exception, not the rule.
Playing for Something Bigger
When Onakoya undertook a Guinness World Record chess marathon, it was not driven by personal ambition or the pursuit of recognition. The goal was clear: to raise funds and awareness for children through his work.
What he did not fully anticipate was the intensity of the challenge. Attempting something unprecedented demanded a level of endurance and mental strength beyond expectation. There were moments when stopping would have been understandable.
But what sustained him was purpose. He was not playing for himself, but for the dreams of children who needed opportunity. Supporters travelled from around the world — including to Times Square — to stand behind the effort. That collective belief became a source of strength, reinforcing the idea that the mission had grown beyond any single individual.
The Power of Seeing Yourself
A pivotal moment in shaping his vision came through watching Queen of Katwe. For Onakoya, it was more than a film — it was recognition.
For the first time, he saw a young Black African child whose life had been transformed through chess. That image reshaped what felt possible. It shifted his perspective from personal success to collective impact.
Having experienced how chess could create opportunity in his own life, he became determined to extend that possibility to others — particularly children who, like him, began with very little.
What Still Lies Ahead
Despite his achievements and growing global recognition, Onakoya does not see his work as complete. If anything, his awareness of the challenge ahead has only deepened.
He speaks candidly about the realities facing children on the streets — the risks, the lack of structure, and the urgent need for intervention. While his organisation has reached thousands, he acknowledges the limits of what can be achieved without broader institutional support.
Scaling impact, he notes, requires government involvement and systemic commitment.
Still, his vision remains bold: to build the largest chess academy in the world — not as a monument, but as a haven. A place where children can find discipline, direction, and dignity.
And even with that ambition, he holds on to a simple truth: anything truly meaningful takes time.