How Uba Got Its Name
What a Nigerian Uber driver, a cruise I almost skipped, and five extraordinary women taught me about claiming my future
Many people have asked me, “What does Uba mean?” or “How did you choose the name for your ranch?”
The truth is—I didn’t go looking for it. The name found me.
And it all started on a cruise I almost didn’t take.
The Trip That Changed Everything
In January, I joined a business cruise hosted by Stimulyst, the company built by Liz J. Simpson—a woman whose work and leadership have been life changing for me.
And I don’t use those words lightly.
I’ve historically struggled to truly bet on myself.
Calculated risks? Sure. But choosing me as the bet? That’s been much harder.
My connection with Liz opened a door that shifted all of that.
Through her, I met Stephanie, whose energy and insight helped me begin the process of untangling from a professional relationship that no longer served me.
Through Stephanie, I was introduced to Nikki—who became my coach, but also so much more. Nikki is vibrant, brilliant, powerful. She held up a mirror and helped me see what I’d spent years minimizing: my own brilliance. My capability. My voice.
These four connections—Liz, Stephanie, Nikki, and Stimulyst itself—became catalysts.
Together, they cracked something open in me.
They gave me a sense of agency I hadn’t felt in years.
So when I say this group of women changed my life—I mean that from the marrow.
Almost Didn’t Go
And yet… I nearly didn’t go on that cruise.
My marriage was crumbling.
I was buried in work building my businesses.
Life was loud, overwhelming, and heavy.
But the trip was already paid for, and I told myself:
You need this. Go.
So I went.
A Question That Cracked Me Open
On day one, my friend Erika asked me something that stopped me in my tracks:
“What do you want?”
Not what’s responsible. Not what’s strategic.
What do you, Amanda, want?
I had never really asked myself that before—not without asterisks, not without contingency plans.
That question lived with me the entire trip.
I journaled. I meditated. I walked the deck just thinking.
And eventually, I answered it.
- I want to live off-grid.
- I want land.
- I want to build something real.
Releasing the Fear
Up until that point, I had been letting fear drive the narrative:
What if my businesses fail?
What if I can’t do this alone?
This is a wild idea. It’s too risky.
But on that trip, I made a decision: I was done giving fear the mic.
I was going to build a life that felt like mine.
And I was going to name it.
The Power of Naming
I’ve always believed in the power of symbols, and names are powerful symbols.
So, I decided I would name my future ranch/farm/homestead—something that would anchor the vision into reality and condense the timeline between “someday” and soon.
Another powerful moment came from a speaker on the cruise, Darnyelle Jervey Harmon, who asked: “What would abundance do?”
That phrase became a meditation for me too.
I didn’t want financial wealth—I wanted abundance:
- Self-love.
- Longevity.
- Energy.
- Family.
- Freedom.
But the word “abundance” in English didn’t feel right. It felt too entangled with money. I wanted something deeper. Something mine.
Uba Finds Me
After I returned home, I got in an Uber from the airport. My driver was a Nigerian man, and during the 20-minute ride, we talked about family, land, and what wealth really means.
He told me his native language was Igbo. And, somehow, in that moment, that small fact grounded me.
As a Black woman in America, my relationship to West Africa is layered. I know I have roots there, but the specifics were erased. It’s a connection that exists, even if I can’t always name it.
Before getting out of the car, I asked him:
“How do you say ‘abundance’ or ‘wealth’ in Igbo?”
He smiled—lit up, really—and said,
“Uba.”
And I knew.
That’s it. That’s the name.
Uba Means More
This name isn’t just a name. It’s a symbol. A declaration. A connection.
Uba represents the woman I became on that cruise.
- The one who said yes to herself.
- The one who chose abundance.
- The one who’s building a legacy rooted in land, in healing, and in ancestral reclamation.
That Uber driver may not know what he gave me that day.
But I will never forget.
I'm so glad for this spark in your journey, friend