#MentalNote Archives

The End of the MVP and the Dawn of the Attention-First Startup

2 weeks ago By cumeadi

After more than twelve years in startups and venture capital, you learn to recognize the patterns. You see the cyclical nature of hype, the ebb and flow of capital, and the perennial challenges of building something from nothing. You get a feel for the rhythm of the game.

But this isn’t just a change in rhythm. The ground beneath our feet is fundamentally shifting. A handful of powerful, accelerating forces are converging to rewrite the startup playbook I’ve known for two decades. The old pages are not just yellowed; they are becoming obsolete.

The ability to build and tell stories is cheaper and faster than ever. The cost of getting feedback on those stories and products has collapsed, thanks in large part to AI. Yet, in this world of infinite creation, the currency of human attention has never been scarcer or more valuable. All of this is happening as capital markets are tightening, demanding a clearer path to liquidity than the speculative bets of the last decade.

These aren’t separate trends. They are interlocking gears in a new machine. And for founders, investors, and even consumers, understanding this new machine is a matter of survival.

For Founders: The MVP is Dead. Long Live the MVT.

Let’s be blunt: The Minimum Viable Product is dead.

The classic MVP was an answer to the question, “Can we build it?” It was a test of technical feasibility and a hedge against wasting engineering resources. But today, the answer to “Can we build it?” is almost always “Yes.” With modern tools and AI co-pilots, a small, determined team can build almost anything.

That is no longer the operative question. The new question is, “Should it exist?”

This shifts the core activity of a startup from building to testing. Welcome to the era of the MVT: the Minimum Viable Test. An MVT isn’t a clunky product; it can be a photorealistic landing page, a simulated demo, an AI-powered concierge service, or a targeted ad campaign for a product that doesn’t exist yet. Its goal isn’t to acquire users, but to acquire evidence.

The paradox is that while the cost of testing a hypothesis has collapsed, the cost of capturing attention has skyrocketed. In a world where anyone can generate a product, noise becomes the dominant market force. A functional app is now table stakes, not a differentiator.

This elevates a founder’s other skills to the forefront. The most valuable founders of the next decade won’t necessarily be the best engineers; they will be the best storytellers and community architects. They will understand that the most durable moat isn’t a block of code, but a block of dedicated, engaged people. The new playbook is to build the audience before you build the product. The distribution channel is the asset.

For Investors: Alpha is Shifting, and Capital Isn’t King

For years, the venture capitalist’s edge came from access: access to proprietary deal flow and access to information. Both are eroding. AI agents will soon be able to scan every GitHub repository, every academic paper, and every new business filing, surfacing interesting signals for anyone to see. The “I found it first” alpha is vanishing.

More profoundly, for many early-stage companies, a check is no longer the most valuable thing an investor can provide. When a founder can run a dozen MVTs on a shoestring budget to validate their core idea, their primary bottleneck isn’t capital; it’s breaking through the noise.

They don’t need your money as much as they need your leverage.

The venture firm of the future cannot be a simple financial instrument. It must become a platform for leverage. The new value-add isn’t just a network of downstream investors; it’s a proprietary media engine that can guarantee an audience. It’s a stable of specialized AI agents that can automate a startup’s back office. It’s a data co-op that gives portfolio companies an unfair analytical advantage.

This demands a change in how we, as investors, evaluate founders. We must move beyond pedigree and PowerPoints to ask tougher questions. Is this founder a master of the MVT loop? Can they build a tribe? Can they tell a story that bends the attention market in their favor?

In this new reality, the generalist fund will be squeezed. The winners will be hyper-specialized firms that create a gravitational pull for the very best talent and ideas in a narrow domain, not just because of their capital, but because of the unique leverage they provide.

For All of Us: The New Gatekeepers

This rewiring changes the game for everyone. The line between consumer, fan, and early-stage backer has completely blurred. Through our clicks, our shares, our feedback, and our direct-to-creator funding, we are all on the cap table now. Our attention is the new seed round.

This brings a paradox. We have access to an unprecedented explosion of niche products and services tailored to every conceivable interest. Yet, we also face a tsunami of AI-generated sludge, low-effort “startups,” and sophisticated misinformation. In this environment, our most critical skill as individuals will be discernment.

We are trading one set of gatekeepers—the VCs in Sand Hill Road boardrooms—for another: the opaque, ever-shifting algorithms of TikTok, Google, and X. We have democratized access to the arena, but a new, invisible emperor still decides who thrives with a flick of an algorithmic thumb. Are we truly better off? I’m not so sure.

What I am sure of is that the game has changed. It’s no longer about who has the capital to build a fortress, but who has the leverage to command attention in a world of infinite creation. It’s a faster, more volatile, and intensely more personal game than ever before. It demands that we all—founders, funders, and fans—become more intentional about where we place our most valuable asset: our attention.

#MentalNote

The Father, The Son, and The Man I Hope to Be

2 weeks ago By cumeadi

The image of my father that sticks with me most isn’t one of grand gestures. It’s the quiet consistency of his presence. It’s the worn-out look of his work shoes by the door, the sound of his car pulling into the driveway at the same time every evening, the weight of his hand on my shoulder, a silent assurance that he was there. For years, I saw these things as simple facts of life, the unchangeable backdrop of my world. Now, standing on the cusp of my potential fatherhood, I see them for what they were: daily acts of sacrifice, a quiet language of commitment I’m only now beginning to understand.

As we get older, our parents transform from gods into people. Their choices, once immutable laws of the universe, reveal themselves as decisions made by a man who was often tired, likely uncertain, but always resolved. I look at my father now and I’m in awe, not of a superhero, but of the sheer, unrelenting effort. The quiet heroism of showing up, every single day, for a future he was building but might not fully get to see. That is the inheritance that leaves me breathless.

Happy Father’s Day to him, the original architect of my world. And Happy Father’s Day to my brother, and to all the other new fathers in the trenches of that beautiful, bewildering first chapter. Welcome to the journey. I can only imagine the mix of profound love and sheer panic you’re feeling. If there is one piece of advice I can offer from the sidelines, it is this: be kind to yourself. You are not just raising a child; you are raising yourself into a father.

It is a role you learn on the job, and the learning is as much about discovering your child as it is about rediscovering yourself. You will be confronted with the limits of your patience, the depths of your love, and the echoes of your childhood. You will find joy in moments so small they are almost invisible and feel a weight of responsibility so immense it feels sacred. It is a journey of becoming, and it is the most important work you will ever do.

This brings me to my path, a more internal one for now. For months, I’ve been in a quiet dialogue with myself, turning over a single question: “Why do I want to be a father?” For a long time, I think I assumed it was a natural, inevitable step, the next logical beat in the rhythm of a life. But to step into fatherhood consciously, I’ve realized, requires more than assumption. It requires interrogation.

I know that we often parent from one of two places: a place of repetition or a place of repair. We either unconsciously repeat the patterns of our upbringing or we consciously seek to repair the parts that were broken. To want a child from a place of “healing”—to offer them a security you may not have had, or to give a voice to a part of you that was silenced—is a noble instinct. But it is incomplete. A child cannot be a tool for our self-actualization.

The real work, I’m learning, is to arrive at a place of wholeness before they arrive. To sort through your baggage so they don’t have to carry it. It’s about asking: Am I seeking to be a father to fill a void within myself, or to guide a new soul from a place of fullness? Do I want to be a father to prove something, or to simply be something, a steady, loving, present man?

Knowing your “why” is the foundation. It’s what separates fatherhood as an identity from fatherhood as an act of service. It’s the anchor that will hold you steady when the nights are long and the days are trying. It’s the difference between seeing a child as a reflection of your legacy and seeing them as their person, a sacred trust you are privileged to shepherd.

Fatherhood, I see now, is not a destination. It’s a calling. It’s a call to be better, to dig deeper, and to love more fiercely than you thought possible. It’s a legacy passed down from men like my father, a challenge being met by men like my brother, and a question that I am learning to answer for myself, with intention and with hope.

#MentalNote · #productideas · Big Ideas

Decoding the Chaos: Welcome to Wahala Economics

4 weeks ago By cumeadi

During my time navigating the vibrant streets of Lagos, I often found myself observing patterns that defied conventional economic wisdom. What initially appeared as disorganization or inefficiency hinted at something more complex, a hidden logic beneath the surface-level ‘wahala.’ It was there, amidst the bustling markets and intricate social dynamics, that the idea of ‘wahala economics’ began to take shape for me – a lens through which to understand the underlying, often unconventional, economic forces at play in such environments. It’s about recognizing that what looks like chaos might actually be a rational, if not always optimal, response to a unique set of constraints and incentives.

Consider the real estate market in Lagos. An outsider might observe seemingly high property prices, perhaps juxtaposed with visible signs of economic hardship. Scratch a little deeper, and you might hear about the lucrative returns some are making through platforms like Airbnb. This visible success, even if enjoyed by a relatively small fraction of property owners, can act as a powerful signal. The perceived profitability of short-term rentals creates an impression of high returns across the board. Consequently, buyers and investors, perhaps lacking granular data on actual Airbnb occupancy rates and profitability across different properties, may bid up prices, not just for Airbnb-suitable apartments, but for real estate more broadly. What appears ‘irrational’ – higher prices even for properties less suited to short-term rentals – becomes a rational response to the distorted incentives created by the highly visible, though potentially unrepresentative, success of some Airbnb ventures.

This phenomenon in the Lagos real estate market isn’t an isolated quirk. Across ‘wahala economies,’ you often find that the incentives themselves are skewed in ways that would seem counterintuitive in more conventional settings. What might appear as irrational behavior – individuals making choices that don’t maximize standard economic utility – often becomes rational when you understand the distorted incentive landscape they navigate. For instance, in environments where trust in formal institutions is low or where scarcity is pervasive, seemingly ‘inefficient’ behaviors like hoarding resources or prioritizing immediate gains over long-term investments can become logical responses to the prevailing conditions. The actors aren’t necessarily irrational; their rationality is simply calibrated to a different, often more challenging, set of incentives.

Beyond the immediate distortions of information asymmetry and skewed incentives, another layer of understanding in ‘wahala economics’ comes from the perspective of ‘infinite games.’ Unlike finite games with clearly defined players, rules, and an end goal, infinite games are about continuing to play. In environments marked by uncertainty and ongoing challenges, actions that appear ‘inefficient’ in the short term might be strategic moves within a much longer, undefined game. Consider a seemingly convoluted or time-consuming negotiation process. From a purely transactional viewpoint, it might look like a waste of resources. However, within the context of an ‘infinite game’ – where building relationships and establishing trust for future interactions is paramount – that extra time and effort might be a crucial investment.

Ultimately, ‘wahala economics’ invites us to look beyond the simplistic metrics of efficiency and immediate transactional gains. The seemingly chaotic dance of these economies often reveals a deeper, adaptive logic rooted in navigating information gaps, responding to skewed incentives, and playing the long game in environments where trust might be localized rather than widespread. The ‘inefficiencies’ we observe on the surface can be understood as the emergent strategies of actors responding rationally (within their context) to the particular ‘wahala’ they face.

What examples of ‘wahala economics’ have you observed in your own experiences or travels? Share your insights!

#MentalNote

The Cost of Could Be: How We Price Potential in Money, Society, and Love

2 months ago By cumeadi

“Potential is a promissory note from the future. We spend it daily—on people, projects, even ourselves—without always asking what it’s really worth.”

We talk a lot about value these days. Market value. Cultural value. Social value. But the one that feels the most dangerous—and the most sacred—is potential.

We build companies, cities, movements, and relationships around what might be.
We fall in love with people not for who they are now, but for who they could become.
We raise capital off of pitch decks, not profits.

In every part of life, we’re assigning worth to futures that haven’t happened yet.

But very few people ever pause to ask:
How much is potential really worth? And who gets to decide?

I. The Financial Side of Hope

I’ve sat in rooms where people raised $10M on a slide deck. No product. No traction. Just a compelling story and the right networks. It’s not a scam—it’s the norm.

This is what venture capital is: a belief engine.
You’re not investing in now—you’re investing in what might be. Optionality. Trajectory. The next unicorn.

But potential in business is never neutral. It’s dressed in Ivy League sweatshirts, polished pitch decks, and proximity to power. We reward people not just for their ideas—but for how much their ambition looks like success.

That means others—often more grounded, more creative, more resilient—get overlooked. Not because they lack potential. But because they don’t fit the script investors are used to betting on.

So we overpay for the obvious, and underfund the underestimated.
That’s not strategy. That’s bias.

II. Social Capital and the Gatekeepers of Belief

Potential gets priced in society, too.

A young woman from a top school is called “promising.”
A young man from Ajegunle with the same drive is told to “be realistic.”

Two kids with the same brain. Two wildly different valuations.

We pretend we’re meritocratic, but we’ve engineered a world where potential is often just recognition dressed up as intuition. We believe in people who make us feel comfortable. Who speak our language. Who mirror our idea of excellence.

So potential becomes a form of privilege.
Some people get to be a “work in progress.” Others have to arrive fully formed or not at all.

III. Relationships as Emotional Venture Capital

Let’s make this personal.

Dating is one of the most emotionally expensive markets for potential. We don’t just fall for who people are—we fall for who we believe they could become.

She’s a little guarded now, but once she heals, she’ll open up.
He’s figuring things out, but he’s brilliant. Just give him time.
We’ve had a rough start, but something tells me this could be it.

This is fine—at first.
But here’s the tension: you can’t build a relationship on a pitch deck.

You need a product. You need traction. You need behavior.

Too often, one partner becomes the investor, the coach, the emotional scaffolding. Meanwhile, the other is still “working on themselves.” And so we mistake effort for intimacy, and potential for partnership.

Eventually, someone checks their emotional bank account and realizes they’ve been the only one funding growth.

IV. What Most People Miss About Potential

Let me be blunt. Here’s what no one tells you about potential:

Potential depreciates. It loses value if it’s not acted on. Belief without execution just becomes burnout.
We confuse style for substance. People with charisma, credentials, or the “right story” often get funded over those with real grind and quiet power.
The ability to fail is a privilege. If you have family money, citizenship, or social capital, your potential gets subsidized. You get to stumble and still be “promising.” Others don’t get that luxury.
We stay too long in potential-based relationships. Because we’re afraid of being wrong about what we hoped for. But staying doesn’t fix it. Growth does.

V. How We Can Rethink Potential

This isn’t a call to stop believing. If anything, I think belief is the most radical form of action. But it should be disciplined belief—backed by curiosity, accountability, and clarity.

So here’s what I’ve learned:

In business: Bet on people others overlook. Often, the ones without polish are the ones with fire. Look for pattern-breakers, not pattern-matchers.
In love: Don’t date someone’s potential. Date their patterns. What they do, not just what they dream about doing.
In life: Be honest about your own. Your potential is real. But you don’t have forever. Trade hopes for habits.

Final Thought

We’re all speculating on something.
But the future doesn’t belong to those who sell the best story.
It belongs to those who can close the gap between what could be and what is.

So the next time you’re deciding whether to invest—money, time, or your heart—ask yourself:

Am I in love with the future?
Or am I just afraid to confront the present?
Me

Because the world doesn’t need more belief.
It needs better bets.

If this resonated…

Subscribe to Chika.io for new essays every month
Share this with someone stuck between what is and what could be
Reflect: Where are you overpaying for potential in your life right now?

#MentalNote · Big Ideas

THE HIDDEN TRUTHS MANIFESTO

2 months ago By cumeadi

20 Unspoken Insights Shaping the Next Era of Humanity, Technology, and Consciousness

Introduction: The Power of the In-Between

In a world saturated with information, what’s rare is wisdom from the seams—those truths not yet obvious, not yet profitable, or still inconvenient to say aloud. This manifesto captures 20 emerging insights—drawn not from consensus, but from patterns, contradictions, and quiet signals across culture, technology, psychology, and philosophy. They are not predictions. They are invitations.

We are entering a liminal age. The edges matter now more than ever.

I. The Ontological Shifts

1. Hyperconnectivity is eroding the boundary between signal and simulation. Our nervous systems are recalibrating to synthetic coherence. The real threat is not misinformation—but mis-feeling.

2. Consciousness isn’t a state—it’s a rhythm. Being is not binary. It pulses. The truest intelligence may emerge from resonance, not computation.

3. The soul of a civilization is stored in what it forgets. Our archives are filled with noise. Our ghosts hold the signal. Watch what cultures erase.

4. Laughter is the last truly encrypted signal. Authenticity will be harder to simulate. Laughter, like grief, might remain a final frontier.

5. The planet may already be sentient—just not in a way we know how to listen to. We frame Earth as object, not interlocutor. New science will rediscover old animisms.

II. Technology & Time

6. AI will break the concept of “talent.” When mimicry becomes trivial, differentiation will shift to curation, friction, timing, and soul.

7. Economies will compete on resonance, not just resources. Coherence is currency. Cities and nations with vibrational alignment will outperform those with raw capital but no story.

8. The next colonialism is sensory. Attention was phase one. Emotion, impulse, and identity are next. Sensory sovereignty will emerge as a human right.

9. Most of the world’s best ideas have already been had—but weren’t scalable in their time. The archive is an oracle. Indigenous methods, ancient city-planning, spiritual ecologies—they’re not outdated, just awaiting infrastructure.

10. The most powerful act in the next 50 years might be a radical slowdown. Stillness isn’t escape. It’s rebellion. In an economy of speed, slowness is the ultimate edge.

III. Society & Meaning

11. Childhood is being outsourced to algorithms. Emotional scaffolding is no longer built at home. Identity is now a platform-level construct.

12. The future belongs to those who can sit with paradox. Complexity won’t be solved, only harmonized. Paradox fluency will be the master skill.

13. We’re underestimating the psychic cost of persistent partial presence. Anxiety isn’t pathology—it’s evolutionary resistance to ambient fragmentation.

14. Death may no longer anchor meaning. Lifespan extension, data immortality, and identity diffusion will unravel the narrative spine of civilization.

15. Global South ingenuity is constrained more by narrative friction than capital. The main barrier isn’t money. It’s the inherited epistemologies that limit what people believe they’re allowed to build.

IV. Cultural & Philosophical Reframes

16. The next great export from Africa isn’t oil or music—it’s metaphor. Ancestral logic, oral cosmology, and multi-dimensional storytelling offer new operating systems for post-singularity life.

17. Language is about to fracture in slow motion. Algorithmic dialects, meme languages, and subcultural codes will replace global lingua francas. The internet is not unifying—it’s atomizing semantics.

18. Innovation will look more like excavation than invention. The future is buried. True progress may require humility, not hubris.

19. The most radical tech shift is not generative AI—it’s the return of intentional community. We are rebuilding the village with APIs and group chats. Belonging is the new infrastructure.

20. Taste will matter more than intelligence. In a world where anyone can access brilliance, it’s how you filter, align, and sense-make that sets you apart.

Investment & Tech Hype: A Realignment Ahead

These 20 insights point to an inevitable shift in capital flows and startup psychology. Investment will slowly move from:

Efficiency to Coherence
Disruption to Resonance
Extractive platforms to Restorative ecosystems
Utility-first tech to Meaning-infused tech
B2B/SaaS monocultures to culture-native, place-rooted infrastructure

We are exiting the API-for-X era and entering the ritual-for-X era—where software must plug into felt realities, not just business logic. Tech hype will pivot from AI acceleration to AI attunement. The winners will not be those who automate everything, but those who re-enchant it.

VCs will need to develop spiritual imagination. Founders will need paradox fluency. And builders? Builders will need to listen as much as they invent.

The question is no longer: What can we build? The question is: What wants to be built through us?

Let this be your prompt. Your prayer. Your playbook. The future is listening.