The battle I couldn’t walk away from

We’re advocating for policy makers and investors to see beyond the pitch deck and into the person.

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There’s a quote that’s lived with me longer than any boardroom lesson or pitch deck. It found me when I was young and foolish, and it stayed long enough to become part of my inner compass:

“It is not the critic who counts… The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…” — Theodore Roosevelt.

That quote has carried me through 25 years of building and breaking. It’s echoed in my ears after deals collapsed, when trusted allies disappeared, and when the applause of success faded into the silence of doubt. It reminded me that even if you fall, you fell in the arena—not in the crowd.

At 50, you begin to ask different questions. Not about revenue growth, but about relevance. Not just what you’ve built, but what will remain when you’re no longer in the room. And for me, that question became louder: What if I could help other African founders avoid some of the mistakes I made?

That is how Founders’ Battlefield was born. Not as a podcast or a media production, but as a deeply personal reckoning. I began mapping my journey—like a consultant sorting through old case files.

I drew lines across decisions I regretted, the deals that taught me more than they gave me, and the moments I felt unqualified to keep going. I noticed patterns. Emotional flash-points. Truths I had buried. And slowly, I saw the contours of something larger—a blueprint.

That blueprint would become the African Founder Operating System—a model rooted not in startup jargon, but in lived experience. It is not about raising capital or exiting. It’s about surviving with your soul intact. Scaling without selling out.

I started sharing this idea with other founders. I asked them one question: “When did you almost give up?” That broke the silence.

The conversations that followed were raw. Founders who looked polished from the outside admitted they were barely keeping it together.

They spoke of betrayal, burnout, breakdowns and moments of blinding doubt. They told me about the price of visibility and the weight of responsibility. These weren’t content pieces. They were confessions. They were interventions.

What surprised me was how few of them had ever said these things out loud. African founders are often praised in public and punished in silence. We are expected to succeed quietly and fail quietly.

We are raised to protect the mask. But when you remove the mask, you find something astonishing underneath: wisdom.

We began recording. Each episode of Founders’ Battlefield became something sacred—a 2.5-hour, no-holds-barred conversation. It wasn’t therapy, but it healed. It wasn’t school, but we all learnt something. It wasn’t church, but it felt spiritual.

At first, I thought it would be easy to get people to share. Many founders declined. They didn’t want to be exposed. They were afraid of being misunderstood, or ignored. But the few who said yes gave everything. And what they gave...has become the foundation of something extraordinary.

We now have stories about the Finance Mafia—the unspoken barriers to capital. The Talent Trap—where loyalty often overrides competence. The Low-Trust Terrain—where broken promises cost more than money. And the Mental Whiplash—of building in systems that reward performance over wellbeing.

These stories are now evolving into conceptual models, educational frameworks, and narrative blueprints that can shape how we teach entrepreneurship in Africa. Because, quite frankly, we’ve had enough of foreign case studies. It’s time we told our stories, in our words, for our context.

What started as a personal project is now becoming a movement. We’re building a digital archive of founder case studies. We’re forming learning circles and peer therapy cohorts.

We’re advocating for policy makers and investors to see beyond the pitch deck and into the person.

And we’re daring to ask difficult questions: Why don’t we study failure in Africa? Why don’t we document grief, betrayal, and recovery alongside growth and funding rounds? What if education wasn’t just about knowledge, but also about emotional literacy?

This column is an invitation. Each week, I’ll share one truth from the battlefield. Sometimes mine.

Sometimes from another brave founder who chose to speak. Not to impress, but to illuminate. If you are a founder reading this, perhaps this is the reminder you needed—that you’re not alone. That confusion, fatigue, and fear are part of the price, not signs that you’re unworthy.

And to the rest of the ecosystem—the investors, policymakers, professors, and partners—I hope this series gives you new eyes. Behind every founder is someone carrying the weight of an uncertain dream. Someone with a cracked voice still trying to pitch clarity.

I chose the name Founders’ Arena not because it’s poetic, but because it’s true. I’ve been there. I still am. And maybe you are too. So join us. Not as spectators. But as fellow builders. Fellow believers. Fellow fighters.

The arena is not pretty. But it’s honest. And sometimes, that’s all we need to begin again.

The writer is a serial entrepreneur, founder of Seven Seas Technologies and Ponea Health, and the creator of Founders’ Battlefield 

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