I had intended to write this piece this morning, but the day proved far busier than anticipated. I have only just returned to my computer after a stroll through the damp streets of Accra to have a passport photograph taken. A generous uncle has gifted me a plot of land, and the photo is required for its registration—a development for which I am profoundly grateful.

Now, to the main subject at hand.

Yesterday, I shared the story of my cousin who resigned from her bank position to establish a school. Today, that institution educates over 750 pupils and generates a profit of at least $40,000 per term.

She is now living the ‘soft life’—jetting off on holiday to the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, and beyond. She launched this venture seven years ago, and her sole regret is that she did not have the courage to leave the bank sooner, recognising in hindsight the years she feels were wasted.

This narrative underscores a persistent lament of mine: the African over-reliance on formal employment. We appear to be trapped in a monolithic mindset—go to school, graduate, and find a job. This has catastrophically overburdened the employment market; no government, no matter how effective, could ever generate enough vacancies to satisfy this endless conveyor belt of job-seekers.

Many who read such stories express a desire to start their own business but cite a lack of capital as the insurmountable barrier. Some even resort to the facile argument that my cousin’s bank job provided the seed money, which is a misreading of the facts. Her salary was insufficient, covering little more than her monthly expenses. The true genesis of her school was a $15,000 loan from her boyfriend.

Naturally, not everyone is fortunate or discerning enough to select a partner capable of providing such support. Therefore, this path is not universally applicable.

However, I can state with conviction that almost everyone knows someone—be it abroad or locally—with some disposable income who could be a potential business partner. The primary reason these individuals decline to invest is a fundamental lack of trust. They fear, often rightly, that the prospective entrepreneur is untrustworthy, dishonest, or at best, a swindler.

If a credible person approached me with a well-researched proposal for a farming venture, offering their time and energy in exchange for my capital, I would be inclined to invest. The condition, however, is absolute certainty in their honesty and commitment. The tragic reality is that the default setting for far too many is deceit. The moment £5,000 is transferred for farm inputs, the money is diverted to secretly purchase cement and blocks for a personal house.

This culture of dishonesty is precisely why banks across the continent demand such stringent collateral for loans and make the application process so arduous. The core problem is not a scarcity of capital; the problem is you—your dishonesty and your greed.

The assertion that significant capital is required to start a business is often a smokescreen. A simple 1,000 GHS mobile money loan is enough to launch numerous small ventures. Yet, even this modest sum is frequently taken with no intention of repayment—a perfect illustration of the foundational dishonesty I am describing.

A recent venture of my own serves as a counter-example. I started a car rental service with a fleet of seven vehicles, including a Range Rover, a Genesis, and a Nissan Patrol. These cars belong to friends who have entrusted them to me to manage. The vehicles are worth a small fortune, yet their owners have confidence that I will not cheat them, sell their assets, or use them for personal prestige.

This illustrates the most potent principle in business: the easiest way to start is with other people’s money. But other people’s money only flows towards those with proven integrity. Herein lies the crux of the issue: 99.9% of you are perceived as thieves, dishonest and greedy. This is why you cannot even persuade your own friends and family to back you financially.

Start a business with someone in Africa, and the capital will evaporate, accompanied by a litany of excuses. It is not that capital is inherently difficult to raise. The truth is far more uncomfortable: your word is worthless.

If I decided to launch a business tomorrow, I could raise significant funds from my network. Why? Because they trust that I will not feed them stories or misuse their investment.

Capital is readily available for viable ventures. What remains the scarcest and most valuable commodity is integrity.