“If your network of friends can’t raise funds, it’s not a network, it’s a gallery,” says Abojani CEO

Robert’s financial path here wasn't linear. A technologist by training—data analytics, back-office systems for the Nairobi Securities Exchange (NSE)—he caught the finance bug during the 2013-2014 boom when his shares value doubled and paid for his MBA degree. That convergence of tech precision and financial opportunity shaped everything that followed. He spent years in corporate IT leadership at Equity Bank and GT Bank before walking away in 2021, right after turning 35, with one crucial advantage: savings that gave him a soft landing while building Abojani without a salary for three years.

What's striking about Robert isn't just his financial discipline—it's his understanding that everything is economic, even when we pretend it isn't. He drops nuggets throughout the conversation. On networks: The network that only serves you photos isn't a network, it's a gallery. On financial planning: If your dreams are in USD, your savings and investments should also be in USD.

At 39, he talks about enlightenment not as some mystical state but as discernment—the ability to see clearly, act boldly, and keep moving regardless. It's a fitting philosophy for someone building lineage wealth one disciplined decision at a time.

Where does the name Abojani come from?

Abojani comes from A for African, B for Bright, O for Oasis, and jani from majani—green. The idea was simple: Brightness, turning a desert green. An oasis of growth. If you’re around Abojani, you grow.

I see finance the way I see medicine: You seek help before things go wrong. But most people show up after the damage. Many have emotional goals, “Our son will study in the UK”, but no financial plan to support them. If your dreams are in USD, your investments should be too. Even a December Dubai trip isn’t an emergency; it’s predictable. Currency moves, so prepare early. We try to make finance an everyday conversation, not a fire extinguisher.

One of Africa’s weaknesses is treating the economy as an afterthought. Traditionally, families worked first, socialised later. Today we socialise first. People complain about lacking networks, yet the schoolmates they ignore now run major companies. Your first network is your school network.

Everything is economic, even football. Arsenal is valued over Sh438 billion. Watching them contributes to that value. Engaging with media personalities online grows those platforms. Thinking economically, even in your social life, makes things easier. In corporate spaces, opportunities are often a phone call away  if you’ve built relationships early. Waiting until 40 is late; you’re meant to rise with the people you schooled with.

Wealth comes from what you know and who you know. When I start projects, I call my JKUAT classmates—one for marketing, one for legal. Good networks save you rookie mistakes. And they must work. A friend struggled to raise money despite endless photos with bank CEOs. I told him, “If your network can’t raise funds, it’s not a network, it’s a gallery.”

Tell me something interesting about your past?

My grandfather was an entrepreneur with three wives, yet he educated his children and built wealth. Our generation, with all our degrees, struggles with kindergarten fees. That contrast pushed me toward entrepreneurship.

I had planned to leave corporate life by 2019, but wasn’t ready. In 2021, after turning 35, I finally resigned from my IT head role at GT Bank. I stepped out with one advantage—savings. With a wife and two children, you can’t jump without a buffer. I told them, “Your needs are covered. I just need your blessing.”

The transition was tough. For three years, I didn’t pay myself—only the team. What kept me going was a soft landing: Savings, family support, and networks. Friends told me, “If you struggle, come to us—we’ll give you something small as you regroup.” That gave me courage.

When did you develop interest in finance?

My background is in tech—mainly data and analytics. At Equity Bank, I led the broker back-office system for the NSE, and that’s where finance first caught my attention. Then the 2013–2014 boom happened. Shares were doubling. I bought a few; they doubled value within a year, and the profits paid for my MBA. That’s when I realised finance is the bridge between your ambitions and the resources to reach them.

I didn’t switch immediately, but I kept learning—took finance courses, consulted for the National Treasury—and it became clear how hidden the world of finance is. Those inside benefit; everyone else hears headlines. I’ve seen its impact firsthand.

A client bought Nvidia stock in the US; it grew over a hundredfold. They bought a house from the gains and still had enough left for their goals. Yet no one teaches personal finance—not even an MBA. That’s why we focus on individuals and SMEs now, especially on staying power.

We’re self-funded, and moving into our offices needed about Sh3 million. We used a “profit first” approach: every invoice already contains your profit, so move it aside immediately. Three years of that discipline created the buffer we needed.

What’s your background?

I was born in Mombasa, but my family moved around a lot; Mombasa, Nairobi, Kisumu... I schooled everywhere: primary in Siaya, high school at St. Mary’s in Siaya, then university at JKUAT.

My dad worked in different towns— Sagana, Nairobi, Kisumu— so we followed him wherever he was posted. That constant movement is why my schooling felt so fragmented.

Growing up in boarding schools makes you even more disconnected. Our 8-4-4 system boxed you in and gave you the illusion that life would follow a straight line. It doesn’t. When you finish school, reality hits. You studied one thing, but the job market demands something else. You have to reconfigure yourself and adapt.

My dad worked for Kenya Railways. They were among the first parastatals to lay off staff—something unheard of back then, but it's normal now. That taught me the importance of financial planning and staying agile.

Even today, you see institutions like KRA employing people on contract, which was unusual back then. The world is changing fast, and our generation has no choice but to stay flexible.

What’s your biggest dream?

To be the best husband I can be, to make sure my wife is happy, and be a great parent to my children. I believe in building lineage success. Once you’ve achieved it at home, you can share that success with others. That, to me, is the highest form of achievement.

I have a son and a daughter. For now, we’re done (with conceiving), though I think life is always a work in progress. I’d still consider a third, people call it the “retirement package”, and I wouldn’t mind that.

I am enjoying fatherhood and marriage. You learn to stay calm, to handle life’s challenges, and to be a good custodian of the people entrusted to you. You realise you’re here for a reason, and the best you can offer the world is raising your children and supporting your wife so they’re never a burden to anyone.

If everyone did that, Kenya would be much better off, because when you neglect your responsibilities, they become everyone else’s problem, even at work.

What childhood lessons are you undoing now?

Growing up, I was always that child who was number one everywhere, and it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I moved through different primary schools, even joined a top school where I started as number two, but eventually ended up number one again. That made people keep their distance. They assumed I was hard to reach, when in reality I was just an ordinary child.

What surprised people was that I was also good in athletics. In my region, I even came second in a 10,000-metre race. The same thing happened in high school at St. Mary’s Yala—I was always reading, yet I’d still place well in competitions.

People didn’t know what to make of that; it fed into this idea that I was aloof. As an adult, I’ve had to shake that off and learn to interact with people in a more ordinary, open way.

What’s been your greatest misstep in life?

Leaning too heavily on logic. High standards make you analytical, but with people, logic can backfire. Leadership needs humanity, knowing when to let things go. Too much analysis can make you seem distant.

It can feel like driving a Ferrari among Toyotas, you move fast, others don’t. I manage that best in small, high-performing teams. At Airtel and Equity, my core teams were six people. I thrive in groups of six to 10, where I can inspire, align strengths, and build capability. In larger teams, I get lost.

In lean ones, like at Abojani, we’re extremely efficient. Our core is six, 13 with plug-and-play members. That setup lets people achieve far more than they expect, like in our third conference, where the lead cried because she couldn’t believe what she’d delivered.

A lot of this is about inspiration and discernment. Politics teaches you to mobilise; running a company requires choosing the right experts. Discernment, to me, is the new intelligence—without it, you drown in the noise. Even hiring relies on it: four of my staff came from simply seeing their work on LinkedIn and reaching out.

Running a company also means keeping a talent pipeline. I’m always in a “talking stage” with people I might bring in later. When we need media or blogging expertise, I bring in an expert for a one-day immersion. My team observes, learns, and run it from there.

What are you really terrible at?

I’m terrible at trends. I like to see the data first, so I often miss out on things. For example, when newsletters were booming on X, we didn’t jump in, and the products faded before we even tried. Even at Abojani, we approach things like podcasts differently, in formats that suit us. I usually wait things out.

Once a trend proves it’s here to stay, that’s when I jump in, but otherwise, don’t expect me to chase fads like Anguka nayo. I prefer things that feel timeless, even if I lose out on the hype.

What do you do to unwind?

I write songs. I’ve been a songwriter since university, and one of my tracks even became a hit. I still get a few royalties. It’s Sheng and Kapuka, and it lets me be creative in a different way.

What are you manifesting currently?

I’m manifesting greater influence with young people, particularly through mentorship. Many of my mentees have done exceptionally well.

One is at Deloitte, nearly a manager already; another I guided from a masterclass on WhatsApp to becoming a certified financial analyst—FA Julie—who now excels on Instagram and even spoke on a panel.

Mentorship has always mattered to me. Growing up, my mom, a teacher, ensured I had guidance through past papers. Later, mentors helped me pivot from wanting to study mechanical engineering to pursuing computer technology at JKUAT. That guidance opened doors and gave me skills that set me apart in interviews.

The skill I’m currently cultivating is writing. I want to express ideas clearly, blending creativity with finance.

What else do you love besides finance?

I’m really exploring physical fitness. With my background in athletics and running, I’ve found that even simple walking or jogging makes a huge difference; you feel fit, energised, and clear-headed.

I believe mentors should take both reading and physical fitness seriously. Having a “safety net B” is important. On a bad day, exercise can reset your mood. Even our neighbourhoods should be more walkable, encouraging jogging and activity. Physical fitness is an area I’m really investing in right now.

What do you fear now?

I’m 39, turning 40 next February, the halfway mark. I’d say I’m fearless because I feel enlightened. When you’re truly enlightened, you fear nothing, not even death.

How do you reach that point?

Enlightenment comes from discernment, understanding life’s depths. Think of the Renaissance: Craftsmanship guaranteed success.

Today, we’re promised so much that often fails. Many men end up disappointed. But with enlightenment, you’re at peace. You see challenges for what they are and continue regardless.

Even with our most successful conference, which was full of hurdles, ghosted corporates, and last-minute crises, we pushed through. Enlightenment, I believe, is the highest form of intelligence. When you have it, there’s nothing to fear.

Do you think your 40s will be considerably different?

I don’t expect major shifts after 40. I believe in compound interest; what you build steadily becomes your foundation. The company turned five this year, which is a big milestone. Ideally, I’ll spend more time on research and development, which I enjoy, and watching my child grow; my eldest just turned 11.

I read the Bible, but I’m also deep into business books. A standout is Whatever It Takes by Steve Schwarzman of Blackstone. His honesty—about business, relationships, even divorce—accelerates learning. The biggest lessons for me were timing: start when the market is ready and know when to step away.

Another favourite is 10x Is Easier Than 2x by Dan Sullivan—focus on what truly moves the needle. It shaped how we run Abojani: high-quality clients as the core, the rest as upside. But Whatever It Takes remains the one I revisit most. It reminds me not to think small—go big, use effort wisely, stay bold.

→[email protected]