By Ida Faal
I was once that child. I struggled deeply with reading and writing. By Grade 3, I still couldn’t spell simple words like “dog” or “boy” because I confused the letters B and D constantly. I remember the tears, the beatings, the frustration. My mother, tired and discouraged, nearly took me out of school.
But one teacher changed the course of my life. He saw something in me—something others missed. “Her reading is weak,” He told my mom, “but her math is strong. Don’t give up on her yet.”
That moment became my turning point.
My mom doubled her efforts. Then My Aunty Bintou Conteh found me extra tutors, and little by little, I started improving. It wasn’t until Grade 5 that I finally stopped mixing up B and D. But even after that, I was always “different.” I wasn’t the straight-A student.
In high school, I loved organising parties—and many assumed I’d fail just because I loved to have fun. But they didn’t know: I wasn’t just partying, I was investing, organising, learning how to do business from an early age.
In Form 3, I only passed Science. Naturally, people thought I’d become a science student. But I chose commerce because I loved business. My mom was disappointed again.
Then came another low. After graduation, while my mates had jobs or plans, I was still figuring myself out. But I knew one thing: I didn’t want to live a life of regret. So I chose to learn a skill. A skill many never associated with women.
I chose mechanics.
The day my mom found out, she cried. She asked, “Where did she go wrong?” She couldn’t understand. After everything she sacrificed, how could her daughter become a mechanic? To many, I had thrown my life away.
But I stood my ground. I was raised to be strong, and I had found my purpose. My Queen Bintou Conteh was the only one, in the Family who believed in me and never gave up on me.
I stopped partying. I focused. I studied. I trained. I spent three months in a garage without touching a spanner, because they didn’t believe in me. I was too soft, too clean, too female. But I stayed. I wore my overalls with pride, everywhere. I wanted to shift the narrative. I wanted little girls to see a mechanic in heels and braids and believe they could do it too.
The name Fita Faal Autos actually came from a joke, some people used to mock me, calling me “Fita Girlo,” saying I’d fail, saying no mechanic ever became rich. Others told me to get married and stop “wasting time.” Some wouldn’t even sit near me because I smelled like engine oil. But I refused to be ashamed. This was my calling.
I made friends with every mechanic I met. I called them “Boss” and humbled myself to learn. I YouTubed everything. I taught myself what no one else would teach me.
And today? FitaFaal has been standing strong for 6 years.
What started as a dream—mocked, doubted, and dismissed—is now a fully registered automotive solution centre. And yes, we now produce our own engine oil. In the photo you see, I’m holding a bottle of FitaFaal engine oil, and smiling, not because it’s easy, but because it’s real.
To every parent reading this:
Sometimes your child won’t follow the path you imagined. But that doesn’t mean they’re lost. It just means they’re finding their own way. Stand by them. Guide them. Support their dreams, even if you don’t understand them yet.
Today, my mother, who once cried and prayed for me to be “normal”, is now my biggest advocate. She proudly tells everyone, “I’m FitaFaal’s Mom.”
To our community:
Let’s stop judging people’s children. The tables turn. Today it may be yours doing well, but tomorrow, the child you mocked might be the one hiring or helping yours. Life is unpredictable. And God rewrites stories in ways we never expect.
So when you support FitaFaal, you’re not just buying a product, you’re helping write the success story of a girl who refused to give up. You’re investing in purpose, passion, and proof that skills can transform lives.
Thank you for being part of my journey.
Thank you for helping me bottle my dream.?
This is why we say: Support FitaFaal — Engine oil with purpose.
