veri blog

Long-term builders don’t just work differently.They see differently . Early on, I used to think the difference between short-term and long-term thinking was patience. I no longer believe that’s true. Patience is part of it — but the real difference is perspective. Long-term builders don’t look for quick confirmation. They don’t need constant validation that they’re on the right path. They’re comfortable operating without applause, without headlines, and often without certaint

There is a moment in most professional journeys where a shortcut presents itself. It rarely looks unethical. Often, it’s framed as being “pragmatic.” Faster. Easier. More efficient. A way to get the same outcome with less friction. And in the short term, it usually works. That’s what makes the decision difficult. I’ve learned that the hard path isn’t hard because it’s complex. It’s hard because it demands restraint. It asks you to tolerate slower progress, fewer immediate rew

Some ideas stay with you for a long time before they become actionable. For me, the idea of Africa as a truly connected, cross-border trading continent is one of them. Not as a slogan, not as a vision slide — but as something practical, functional, and overdue. Africa isn’t short of capital. It isn’t short of ambition. And it certainly isn’t short of talent. What it has historically lacked is connectivity . Too often, capital is trapped within borders. Opportunities are fragm

There are always easier options. In business, in life, in leadership — shortcuts present themselves regularly. They rarely look unethical at first. More often, they look efficient. Sensible. Even smart. I’ve learned that the hardest paths are usually hard for a reason. Taking the long route forces you to understand what you’re building, not just assemble it. It requires patience when progress is slow and discipline when temptation appears dressed as opportunity. There were mo

Sometimes the hardest word in business isn’t yes. It’s no . Early on, “no” can feel irresponsible. When you’re building something, revenue looks like validation. Opportunity feels like momentum. Turning either away can feel like you’re standing in the way of your own progress. But over time, I’ve learned that not all revenue moves you forward. There were moments when saying yes would have made life easier. More comfortable. Faster. It might have meant better optics — flying m

People often talk about support as encouragement. In my experience, the most valuable support doesn’t sound like motivation at all. It sounds like understanding. I’ve been fortunate in that my wife never needed an explanation for the realities of building something from nothing. She had been self-employed her entire life. She understood, instinctively, that running a business isn’t just a job — it’s a constant mental presence. The pressure doesn’t switch off in the evening. I

The older I get, the more I realise how much of success is about endurance. Not intelligence. Not confidence. Not even talent. Endurance. When you’re younger, success feels like something that should arrive quickly if you’re doing the right things. You work hard, you make good decisions, you push forward — and you expect progress to be visible, measurable, and fairly immediate. Real life doesn’t work like that. Some of the most meaningful periods of growth in my life were lon

There’s a moment in every serious journey where you stop hedging. Not publicly. Not dramatically. Quietly . For me, that moment came early one morning on a beach in Dubai, walking with my wife as we had done countless times before. The conversation wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t emotional. It was factual. I remember saying to her, “ We’re all in. ” If life were a game of poker, it meant every chip we had was being pushed into the centre of the table. No safety stack. No fallback