What's Happening at FarmCI

This post was originally kept private and secured with a password until now, when I was able to make it publicly available.

You are probably an MVP

A year ago, after wrestling endlessly to design a business model in agriculture that could both create and capture value, I found myself stuck, looping back and forth. I have tested multiple ideas, mixed different models, and engaged with countless stakeholders. I’d done my research: audience segmentation, financial projections, business planning, economic modelling, you name it. But what was I really searching for? The sweet spot. One that I never truly found.

Most people approach business with the idea that you start with something and grow from there. That sounds great in theory, but it didn’t work for me. I’m a visionary founder. I don’t necessarily need to execute every piece myself. I can lead people who believe in the vision. Why should I expect anyone to follow me if I can’t communicate that long term goal with clarity and conviction?

Then there’s the issue of resources. They’re finite. I couldn’t keep experimenting forever. Eventually, we’d run out of cash, and I’d be stuck in a loop of analysis paralysis.

So what was I looking for?

The truth is, I have worked on multiple ideas, many of which could generate money. So why couldn’t I just pick one and start? That’s where my problem started. It wasn’t about money, it was about scale.

A lot of people are content with simply making money. They'll figure the rest out later. But I needed a template, a roadmap. Even if the terrain shifted later, I required something solid to start from. I couldn’t just dive in and hope for miracles.

It took me years of soul searching to leave computer science and commit to solving real world issues. So if I’m going to work on something, it has to be worth it. I’m not the kind of person who enjoys doing the same thing repeatedly without seeing substantial progress. Sure, it’s okay to run a farm and make ₦1 million per month in profit. But how fast can you scale it? Can you measure the economic impact of your farm beyond your immediate community?

What happens if you suddenly had all the money you need, would you still be happy doing what you’re doing?

Is your solution viable in other countries or just “Nigerian”? Can someone from another part of the world stumble on your idea, and thank you for solving a global problem? And most importantly, are you creating meaningful jobs?

If your business can’t pass those tests, then it’s not for me.

And that’s where my dilemma began.

I once heard that it takes the same level of effort to build a small business as it does to build a big one, the difference lies in your approach, resources, and strategy.

I’m naturally drawn to big issues. Nigeria is full of them. But I’ve also learned that it’s much easier to start small with a big dream than to go big with a small dream. The more influence, money, and networks you have, the more agility and experience you gain, and the less likely you are to fail. And even if you do, you bounce back faster.

Compare that to someone starting from scratch with nothing but ambition, it’s a much riskier game. And I decided to play where the odds of success are higher.

So what happened?

FarmCI had great vision, but execution was limited, partly due to technical knowledge gaps, limited resources, a weak team structure, and, of course, Nigeria’s infamous infrastructure challenges.

Personally, there was still so much I needed to learn to pull off something that ambitious. That kind of learning takes time and iteration, and I didn’t have the resources or the risk appetite to burn through what I had without results. Getting those resources wasn’t easy, and burning them aimlessly would have been suicidal.

The team? That was another issue. I started FarmCI while still in school, before I fully understood management, systems, or structure. Rebuilding it later became emotionally and structurally difficult.

Then came the infrastructural reality. Our model required more than we had access to, and even with external funding, there was no solid proof that it would work in Nigeria’s chaotic landscape.

Yes, I can raise funds. But I wasn’t going to do that based on a half baked experiment. Gambling with people’s money without a clear execution plan would’ve damaged my credibility, something I’ve worked hard to build.

And the business model itself? The innovative version couldn’t survive our harsh economy, and the traditional version lacked scale. It was a lose lose.

So I made a tough call.

Since solving hard problems requires hard preparation, I decided to pause FarmCI instead of killing it. I liquidated some assets and reinvested the funds into my partners’ ventures, where I had equity, in order to help them move faster and create mutual value.

In the background, I began rebuilding myself, tackling concerns where I had real expertise and a clear vision. My hope? If I do this right, I can return to FarmCI someday and relaunch it, fully equipped.

For now, FarmCI has served its purpose: it was a lab, a learning platform, a mirror. It helped me see my blind spots and understand the steps I should have taken differently. Stepping away from it, though painful, was one of the best decisions I’ve made.

But I didn’t shut it down. I paused it. And when the time is right, I’ll come back for it, with sharper tools, clearer eyes, and stronger hands.