Mercy Erhiawarien, Head of International Programmes at Halcyon, a nonprofit startup accelerator, hardly notices.

She sits upright, almost intimidating at first glance, with the kind of posture that makes you instinctively straighten your own back. But the seriousness dissolves quickly. She laughs easily, often at herself, and answers questions with long pauses, not because she is searching for the right words, but because she seems determined not to waste them.

Over nearly an hour, our conversation wandered from Lagos and Nairobi to venture capital, village life, housing, artificial intelligence (AI) and why she believes Africa’s greatest shortage is not entrepreneurial talent but patient capital.

“I believe opportunity exists in places where people rarely look,” she tells me. It is perhaps the closest thing to a personal philosophy she offers.

That belief is rooted in a life lived across continents. Born in Nigeria’s Delta State and raised largely in the United States, Erhiawarien grew up moving between two worlds. The contrast in infrastructure, opportunity and public institutions sharpened rather than weakened her attachment to Africa. 

Stories from her father, who grew up in a rural village before becoming an accountant, reinforced a conviction that where someone is born should never determine what they can become.

She dreams of financial instruments that give founders the confidence to take risks, neighbourhoods protected from speculative capital, and an Africa whose greatest export is opportunity.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Lagos or Nairobi?

I’ll say both. But it depends on the weather. When it’s cold in Nairobi, I’ll prefer Lagos because it’ll be warm, and when it’s too hot in Lagos, I’ll prefer Nairobi because it’s cool.

I love the way Nairobi is set up. I love the greenery. I love the vibrancy it has. I love that you guys have a solid Kizomba dance culture. And I am seeing more and more that Nairobi is a city at the centre of ideas for how we can grow the continent, or one of the centres. Kenya has done a solid job of centering itself in that way.

Lagos is home. Lagos is in my blood. Although I’m not from Lagos, it’s definitely Nigeria. Lagos is the heartbeat, the energy, of Nigeria. It’s a place where things happen. It’s the New York of Africa—and I’ll say it: not Nairobi—and I’ll even say it’s more New York than New York.

If I visited the neighbourhood where you grew up, what would explain the investor you have become?

I don’t know if the neighbourhood actually shaped the investor I’ve become. I can’t say I feel like an investor yet, but I am one in the making.

My background has shaped how I view different things. I’m Nigerian, born in Delta State, but raised in the U.S. I spent the first few years of my life in Nigeria, and then we moved. Going back and forth between the U.S. and Nigeria, the disparities in quality of life and infrastructure always weighed heavily on my mind.

My father grew up in a village. I don’t know if many in today’s generation know what the village looks like, but learning from his experiences shaped my perspective on the need for people to have access to opportunity and for us to find ways to support underserved communities so they can actually thrive economically.

So, in terms of how it’s shaped me as a future investor, I believe in opportunities in places where they’re least sought out. I believe in opportunities for African people globally. I believe in ensuring that the poorest communities have a chance to thrive. And I have a risk tolerance for ideas that don’t come from capital cities all the time.

You mentioned your dad. What is the one thing that he taught you that has stuck with you to date?

Some of the things are unspoken. He’s generous and values education. He prioritised making sure that all of us were educated to the level we wanted to be. He championed the education of many of his nieces and nephews, and even people who were not related to him. He’s someone who has invested in people.

I’ve taken that away from watching him operate. The way he knows people, and the way he’s always cared about young people, means so many of my friends and younger friends speak of him as one of the adults in their lives they can talk to about different things. I’ve learned that it’s important to invest in people.

What was money like in your childhood? Was it discussed openly, hidden, or always scarce?

My dad was an auditor and an accountant. So to an extent, it was discussed. We would have budgets for school expenses.

Secretly, some of us learned to pad  because you’d usually submit your budget and then get less than you asked for, because he’s like, “You don’t need the money.” But it was discussed, and I think that was important because it taught you, in a way, the value of money.

What part of your younger self have you deliberately refused to outgrow?

I think it’s probably a problem, but I am very idealistic about the continent. Some people would say I’m idealistic about the continent. I would say I’m deeply optimistic about Africa’s future, and I have not yet outgrown that, and I hope I never do.

Sometimes there’s this perception of Nigeria as a country that will break your heart. But I feel like it’s a toxic relationship worth being in, even through the heartbreak, because we have to build the thing that matters to us.

What breaks your heart about the continent?

Our leadership. It makes me very sad that we lack visionary leadership that actually looks ahead to what can be, and that is fiercely protective of what is needed to get the continent there, or get individual countries there. We have it in some places, but not everywhere.

The other thing that breaks my heart is that some countries don’t have the systems in place to help people have the right mindsets, and that ends up destroying economies and eroding economies over time, because the mindset is not there. It’s not right. It’s not ready.

Where would we rather have dinner if you wanted to tell me who you really are?

That is a hard question because I’m very easy. My friends like to think I’m bougie, but I’m very easy. Just feed me, so long as I’m not the one cooking it myself, and effort was made—I’m good. I don’t know. You have to ask somebody else that.

What’s the one thing you will never order in a restaurant?

Sausages or hot dogs.

Investors often say they back people more than products. What do you notice in founders within the first five minutes that most people miss?

I think a lot of founders are bankable in that the ideas they want to build are bankable, but the environment will not allow it.

But there’s also a growing trend, in a continent where the population is so overwhelmingly young, of founders who are not building with an actual mission in mind but are building for economic welfare and view entrepreneurship as the route to that.

When I look at founders, the ability to suss out which is which, usually the ones who are building with an end in mind are bankable, even though the perception is that they are risky and we shouldn’t invest in them.

Tell me about a founder you rejected who later proved you wrong.

I don’t think I can name any founder names. We rejected some founders because they were not a fit for what we needed. Maybe they were too advanced, and we were looking for a slightly earlier stage. There’s always a push and pull. You see, somebody has it; they’re going to scale, you know they’re going to grow, but because the criteria in that moment don’t quite fit them, you end up on the sidelines, watching them grow without being part of their growth story. That’s probably one thing I would say.

Not so many investors are writing early-stage cheques. Do you know why?

That is why I want to be a future investor. I agree with you.

One of my frustrations is exactly what you’ve said. I’m rethinking what capital is and how it looks. I haven’t done any conclusive research, but I think the model we have is a little bit flawed.

The challenge is that many businesses spend years borrowing money before they actually make a profit, and the VC model wants you to have become a unicorn so they can exit by year ten. I don’t know that that’s the model the continent needs.

So the thing that concerns me is: how do we bridge the gap? How do we create financial instruments that are actually founder-friendly—especially if you vetted the founder adequately—that would allow them to build with a little bit of a safety net?

I was having recent conversations with some family friends—Nigerian family friends, my uncles in the U.S.—and we talked about how their generation, people in their mid-60s approaching retirement, would have a job and stay in one place for 30, 40 years because of guaranteed stability. Many of them became very risk-averse, not wanting to take on new opportunities for fear of failure.

When they look at their children who are trying to build things, who are hopping around and not staying in the same job, there’s anxiety. One of the uncles said something profound: our generation—because the parents were able to be risk-averse and stay still—created the safety net that enabled us to be risky, to take bets on ourselves, and to start businesses that didn’t make sense to our parents after a four-year degree.

That’s what the continent needs, especially founders. Founders need financial instruments that create safety nets so that we can venture greatly, and we can dare greatly. A lot of VCs are looking to get their money out quickly, and I think we end up putting founders at risk.

I don’t know what that instrument is. I don’t know what it looks like. But I would love to build something that enables founders to get the support they need and to scale sustainably. Imagine a world where a founder is invested in, scales, and then invests in someone else. For that, the money needs to have values too, if we want a cyclical, compounding impact.

Have you ever fallen in love with an idea rather than a founder?

All the time.

There are young founders in Ghana.  Can we just applaud the founder of Ashesi University for creating a space that challenges founders to think about how to solve problems? There are young founders in Accra, still in university, trying to solve for patient data within the healthcare system. I love that. When I heard their pitch, I thought, “I have been dreaming about this thing for years,” because it’s a problem I have in the U.S. with my health experience. Yes, it needs to be built.

So all the time, there are so many wonderful ideas. And for me, because I end up liking the idea, usually I like the founder too. Usually, yeah.

You do have some founders that are a mess and don’t deserve your loyalty—don’t write that down—but there are quite a few that have the right perspective and want to build something transformational.

What uncomfortable truth do global investors still misunderstand about African entrepreneurs?

African entrepreneurs are bankable, and we need to stop talking about risk when it comes to the continent.

Let’s put aside the fact that the U.S. was born of colonialism and the brutal oppression of minority peoples, or the majority at the time, but the reality is that they grew by absorbing risk and ignoring risk. So why should the continent be any different? Why is Africa a no-go area, the only place where only a few dare to explore? Let’s stop treating it as an infectious disease and see it as an opportunity. It’s bankable.

If you controlled a $10 billion Africa fund tomorrow, where would you deploy it first, and what sectors would receive nothing?

Thank you for my $10 billion fund; I receive it [laughs].

I would invest in manufacturing. I would invest in healthcare—not sexy, but I would. Manufacturing, agriculture, education, and neighbourhoods. There’s a reason I say ‘neighbourhoods’.

Why?

One trend we’re seeing in the U.S. is an unstable housing sector, as VCs buy up property and create what they call single-family renters. People are losing the ability to own their own homes, while a middleman owns the property and makes millions off it, ignoring the rights of the people who live there.

One place that saddens me a lot is Makoko in Nigeria. That’s a community on the water being pushed out by the government of Lagos. I think the approach has been wrong. If the government invested in the community, it could create an economic asset that would bring tourists to Nigeria. A lot of policy focuses on people who have, but you need to focus on different layers of the economy. I would invest in communities to create vibrant places, retain vibrant places, and protect them from people who would exploit poverty.

What’s one investment trend everyone seems excited about that leaves you unconvinced?

AI. It’s not going to be good.

People aren’t building with risk management in mind or with the negative consequences that can arise. No one is thinking about that. We’re kind of just like, “We’ll mine at all costs.”

In 20 years, we’ll start writing papers about how AI destroyed everything. It’s a trend moving headlong. But we have foreknowledge of the negative consequences, and we’re still moving at breakneck speed, ignoring all the signs. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that.

What kind of boss are you on a stressful Monday morning?

Depends on the Monday morning. You have to ask my colleagues that.

I try not to be stressed. I try not to pass on stress. I like to be measured, take stock of my own stress, and try not to pass it on. But yeah, you can ask my colleagues.

What’s the hardest conversation you’ve had with a founder in the past year?

Not the hardest, but more disappointing, realising that I don’t have the bandwidth to support my founders the way I want to. When I fail to support them, it makes me feel bad.

I definitely have at least one person that I owe an apology to right now.

What is happening in African technology today that excites you but isn’t making headlines?

I don’t know if I have an answer for that—I haven’t been following African technology much. But one thing I foresee is that low-tech solutions that can scale are likely to be discarded in the wake of AI. Those solutions might cost less to deploy, but because it’s not AI, founders might struggle to get support. That should be considered.

If this interview were read ten years from now, what would you hope people say you got right about Africa?

Everything.

I hope people will say, “Mercy was right; Africa was going to not only come up, but become the place that people look to for help.”

Random thought: Some people live in countries where tourists show up. Some of us don’t know what that looks like. We have people who come for business, not for fun. I would love to hear someone say, “I travelled to Malawi or Zambia and had a blast;  it was beautiful, the people were friendly, I had so much fun.”

I would love to see an Africa where getting a visa is hard. I applaud Kenya for the best visa process globally—hands down. I applied for my visa on Monday, and look at me. I love that.

But I think we need to carry ourselves with more dignity. We need to carry ourselves with greater pride as a continent. And I know I will be proved right on that at some point.

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