Black Summer on Netflix. S1 E8 12:00 mins I looked up from my screen. Someone was screaming at one of my employees. Literally screaming at the top of his lungs in our open plan office. I stood up, called them in and asked what the issue was? Who the fuck did
So when I write an article, I collect my thoughts over many days and write the article in my head before sitting down and just offloading (that’s why I usually write best when I am angry). It’s literally a stream of consciousness. It’s an expression of how I feel exactly
StartupSouth4 (someone awesome took this picture and I need to credit them but can’t find them) 8th April 2018, we were in Owerri (East of Nigeria). It had been around 5 years since I was last there. Mrs Njoku and I happened to be at an after-party to a massive
Bunmi increased her salary 1,060% in 3 months. Below is the The ‘A Team’ at IROKOtv Nigeria outbound. Together they generated N3,045,000 in IROKOtv subscriptions sales in May 2018. They all started between January and March this year. Yes, 2018. Their share (gross salary + bonus) of that revenue generated
Failure and invention are inseparable twins. To invent you have to experiment, and if you know in advance that it’s going to work, it’s not an experiment. Most large organizations embrace the idea of invention, but are not willing to suffer the string of failed experiments necessary to get there.
Serious side eye Definitions Boat loads of cash = $100m+ Washing Money = Money laundering Jazz = Diabolical spiritual powers aka Juju Late last year, one of the largest and most prominent Africa Private Equity funds reached out to me to have a chat. Instead, we ended up having lunch at
A young consumer internet founder blocked me recently. What’s your #1 piece of advice for startups in Nigeria? Without missing a beat it was simple. Just F*%king Survive. That’s it. Impossible for me to go deeper than that in my brief encounters. But whatever you are doing. Just f*%king survive.
IROKO, IROKO. IROKO, IROKO (in a typical hailing loud Nigerian accent). Mrs. Njoku glanced nervously at me. This was the week ‘How I ended up working for Mrs Njoku’ came out. 1,000% sure this chap hadn’t read the article. Yet here he was. Confirming what I knew. Hailing my wife,
Gabriel called me in tears. A grown man crying. This was new. I hadn’t heard from him in years, hadn’t seen him in years either. Since my days in Festac in fact (I left Festac in 2011). He used to be a really supportive salesman for one of the big
One day, Sim will share the true happenings of what really went down at Konga. I know more than most, but it’s not my story to share. For now, let’s leave it to the Twitter economists and experts to rake over the supposed smouldering corpse which is, to many the
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