Opinion

How Tony Elumelu’s Africapitalism is multiplying impact across Africa

Published

3 weeks ago

September 28, 2026

By Ehi Braimah,

Conversations during economic summits on Africa clearly indicate that governments alone cannot transform Africa’s economic fortunes.

Also read: Interrogating Tinubu’s recurring absence at the UN General Assembly…

While African countries bet on foreign investment, or depend on borrowing and aid, a thinking still rooted in our colonial history, something more fundamental is taking place across the continent: the capacity of young Africans to create businesses, jobs and solutions to problems around them.

This significant shift by young Africans, demonstrating their capacity to innovate and launch businesses of their own, leads us to Africapitalism, the economic philosophy associated with Nigerian entrepreneur and philanthropist Tony Elumelu.

The philosophy is simple: Africans must play a central role in creating Africa’s economic prosperity.

At its heart is the belief that Africa’s private sector can drive economic and social development by creating long-term economic value and social wealth on the continent.

The Tony Elumelu Foundation (TEF) has translated this philosophy into an ambitious entrepreneurship programme that identifies, trains, mentors and provides seed capital to young African entrepreneurs.

The idea is simple but potentially transformational: give young Africans the tools and capital to build sustainable businesses, rather than waiting for them to find employment in economies that cannot create enough jobs.

In terms of scale and impact, the numbers behind TEF’s entrepreneurship intervention are substantial.

The story of Ms. Theresa Oluwagbemi which I am about to tell is not an isolated case, but part of an entrepreneurship ecosystem.

Since the launch of its flagship Entrepreneurship Programme in 2015, TEF has empowered more than 27,000 entrepreneurs across 54 African countries, while more than 2.5 million Africans have accessed business-management training through TEFConnect. In addition, more than US$100 million in seed capital has been disbursed so far to selected entrepreneurs.

According to TEF’s latest figures, businesses supported through the programme have collectively generated more than US$4.2 billion in revenue and created more than 1.5 million direct and indirect jobs.

TEF also reports that it has lifted 2.1 million Africans above the poverty line and positively affected more than four million African households.

The programme’s reach is also demonstrated by the extraordinary demand for it. In 2026 alone, TEF received more than 265,000 applications from young Africans across the continent before selecting a cohort of 3,200 beneficiaries – up from 1,000 beneficiaries when the programme was launched 11 years ago – with 51 percent being women.

Supported by his wife, Awele, Tony Elumelu took TEF to a new level, building partnership with major development institutions, governments and global foundations to scale the programme.

These partners include the European Union, UNDP, ADB, International Committee of the Red Cross, United States African Development Foundation, Organisation of African, Caribbean and Pacific States; German Development Finance Institution (DEG), German Agency for International Cooperation (GIZ), Google, UNICEF Generation Unlimited, IKEA Foundation, the UAE Office of Development Affairs, and Khalifa Bin Zayed Al Nahyan Foundation, among others.

I have had the privilege of experiencing the Africapitalism philosophy from the other side of the table as a mentor in the Tony Elumelu Entrepreneurship Programme.

Last year, I was assigned to mentor Theresa Ouwagbemi, a young Nigerian entrepreneur whose journey provides a compelling illustration of how relatively modest catalytic capital can unlock economic activity.

Theresa studied Mass Communication at the Federal University, Oye-Ekiti, graduating with a second-class upper division, but her entrepreneurial journey began before graduation.

She started producing and selling liquid soap on a very small scale, primarily to students and lecturers in her university.

Like many young entrepreneurs, she had an idea and the determination to pursue it, but lacked the resources to take the business to the next level.

Then came TEF.

Theresa heard about the programme through a mentor who encouraged her to apply.

She knew the selection process was competitive; nevertheless, she submitted her application, including her business pitch and proposal. When the email announcing her selection arrived, it became, in her words, “one of the best days of my life.”

That moment was more than an emotional milestone – it marked the beginning of a significant transition in her entrepreneurial journey.

She received the $5,000 seed grant in January, 2026, alongside access to the programme’s masterclass and mentorship.

The combination is important. Capital without knowledge can be wasted, just as knowledge without capital can remain theoretical.

Her business, “Boom Liquid Wash”, began to acquire the capacity to serve a wider market. Before the grant, Theresa’s business was constrained by the limited equipment available to her.

She had to turn down some contracts because she lacked the production capacity required to fulfil them.

The grant changed that equation. With the money, she acquired basic equipment needed for production.

Her customer base expanded beyond students and lecturers to include restaurants, office owners, other businesses and individual consumers. This is where the broader significance of Africapitalism becomes evident.

The US$5,000 did not simply become money in Theresa’s bank account; it became productive capital. It was converted into equipment, production capacity, customers and business relationships.

It enabled 23-year-old Theresa to accept opportunities that were previously beyond her reach. That is the multiplier effect that entrepreneurship can produce.

Theresa’s story also demonstrates why entrepreneurship development cannot be reduced to simply handing young people money.

The TEF model helps entrepreneurs to develop the knowledge, resilience and connections required to survive in a difficult business environment, and Nigeria’s business environment can be difficult.

Theresa recalls an occasion when the price of chemicals used in her production increased by more than 60 per cent. For a small business, such a sudden increase in input costs can threaten profitability and customer relationships.

How do you explain to customers that your costs have suddenly risen? How do you protect your margins without losing your market? How do you keep going when the economics of your business appear to be changing overnight?

These are not theoretical questions for young African entrepreneurs; they are everyday realities.
We discussed these challenges and Theresa learned to adapt.

Her entrepreneurial experience has also exposed her to opportunities and people she might not otherwise have encountered. While she was still a student, for example, she produced souvenirs for the Dean of her department.

More importantly, entrepreneurship has sharpened her ability to identify problems and develop tailored solutions.

That is another important dimension of Africapitalism: the entrepreneur is not merely a beneficiary of economic development, but becomes an agent of economic development.

Theresa’s customers are beneficiaries because they have access to locally produced products. Her suppliers also benefit from demand, and the businesses that buy her products benefit from reliable supply. As “Boom Liquid Wash” grows, its economic footprint can grow with it. Multiply Theresa’s experience by thousands of entrepreneurs across Africa and the significance becomes much larger.

This is why the Tony Elumelu Entrepreneurship Programme is important beyond the individual entrepreneurs who receive the grants.

The real ambition is to create an ecosystem in which African entrepreneurs thrive, solve African problems, build African businesses and create economic value within African economies.

Africa has no shortage of entrepreneurial energy. What it often lacks is the capital, infrastructure, market access, knowledge and institutional support required to turn entrepreneurial ideas into sustainable businesses.

The intervention of catalytic capital can therefore be significant, but money alone does not guarantee success.

Theresa has learned some hard lessons. One is particularly memorable: never sell on credit. Her experience reflects one of the perennial challenges facing small businesses: cash flow.

A small business may have customers and make sales on paper but still struggle if customers do not pay promptly.

Her second lesson is perhaps even more important: entrepreneurship is not a smooth journey.

There will be setbacks, unexpected costs, disappointments and moments of discouragement.

My advice to Theresa and other young entrepreneurs is to look back at what they have achieved and remember what motivated them to start in the first place.

That resilience is essential to building businesses that can survive beyond the initial intervention.
Theresa is currently undertaking her National Youth Service Corps programme in Enugu, in Eastern Nigeria.

She describes her experience in Enugu as beautiful, saying she has met amazing people and visited beautiful places.

But NYSC is only another chapter in her journey; her ambition is much bigger. She wants to grow “Boom Liquid Wash” into a business that meets global standards.

She plans to gain additional exposure by interning with companies that represent the blueprint she wants for her own business. She also plans to pursue an MBA because, in her words, building a global business requires “a global mindset, experience and exposure.”

This is precisely the kind of ambition that programmes such as TEF seek to nurture.

There is an important lesson here for Africa: development should not only be measured by the amount of money injected into an economy; it should also be measured by the productive capacity that such capital creates.

The money should create a business, acquire customers, and enable increase in production.

In addition, the entrepreneur should acquire new skills; the enterprise should become capable of accepting larger contracts, while creating opportunities for others, contributing to the economic value within the community and, ultimately, within the African economy.

This is the type of value chain that makes the Africapitalism conversation particularly relevant. Tony Elumelu’s intervention is premised on the idea that the African private sector can be an engine of development.

Rather than viewing philanthropy simply as the distribution of resources, Africapitalism seeks to connect enterprise, investment, economic empowerment and social impact.

Theresa’s story illustrates this connection at the micro level. Her production capacity grew and her customer based expanded with bigger ambitions. The next challenge for her is sustainability.

The ultimate test of any entrepreneurship programme is what happens after the grant. Can businesses survive? Can they scale and create jobs? Can they attract additional capital? Can they become suppliers to larger companies? Can they expand across borders? Theresa appears determined to pursue that journey.

Her aspiration to build a global-standard business is significant because Africa needs businesses that can grow, compete, innovate, export and create wealth.

The continent’s enormous youth population makes this even more urgent. Millions of young Africans will enter the labour market in the coming years, but no government can employ everyone.

Sustainable private enterprises must therefore become an increasingly important part of the solution. This is where Africapitalism intersects with Africa’s development challenge.

The goal is not capitalism for its own sake; it is the deployment of private enterprise and capital to generate both economic and social value.

Theresa’s journey from a small student-based liquid soap business to a growing enterprise with customers beyond her immediate environment may appear modest against the scale of Africa’s economic challenges, but transformation often begins at this level – one young African entrepreneur who moves from dependency to enterprise. That is how impact multiplies.

The real promise of Africapitalism lies not simply in the success of one Tony Elumelu entrepreneur, but in the possibility that thousands of entrepreneurs can become creators of value, employers of labour, innovators and contributors to Africa’s economic transformation.

Theresa’s story is therefore bigger than “Boom Liquid Wash” – it is a story about what happens when capital meets an idea, when mentorship meets ambition, and when opportunity meets determination.

Also read: Interrogating Tinubu’s recurring absence at the UN General Assembly…

Perhaps that is one of the most powerful ways to understand Tony Elumelu’s vision for Africa: don’t just give young Africans a chance to find jobs; give them a chance to build businesses that create jobs, wealth and solutions for Africa.

That is Africapitalism in action.

Opinion

Tegbe’s 24-Hour Energy Zones and the Shift From Megawatts to Money

Published

2 weeks ago

October 2, 2026

Mariam Balogun

By Sufuyan Ojeifo,

There is a point at which a country’s electricity problem ceases to be merely an electricity problem. It becomes a problem of economic geography.

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Where can factories operate with confidence? Where can businesses plan beyond the next appearance of a generator? Where can hospitals, schools, technology companies, markets and households begin to organise their lives around the reasonable expectation that electricity will be there?

This is the thinking behind the latest initiative from the Minister of Power, Joseph Tegbe, to develop what the Federal Government calls Energy Zones – defined corridors where homes, businesses and industries could receive stable, 24-hour electricity.

The proposed zones cover the Lagos axis, the Abuja-Kaduna-Kano corridor and the Enugu-Port Harcourt corridor. Tegbe’s latest move is a meeting with selected electricity distribution companies to begin working through what it would take to make the idea real.

At first glance, it sounds like another promise of uninterrupted electricity in a country that has heard too many such promises. However, there is something more consequential in the architecture of the proposal.

Tegbe is asking Nigerians to look at the power problem differently.

For years, the national conversation has been dominated by generation. How many megawatts are being produced? How much can the transmission grid carry? How many generating plants are working? These are important questions. But electricity does not become useful simply because it has been generated.

It must travel. It must be received. It must be distributed. And ultimately, somebody must be able to use it. That last part has often been treated as the end of the conversation when, in reality, it is where the economic value of electricity begins.

Tegbe has put the point plainly. The constraint is not limited to generation and transmission; it also includes how much electricity can be taken up and delivered at the distribution end.

The proposed Energy Zones are intended to address precisely that gap while improving commercial demand and the revenue performance of the distribution companies.

There is an important idea here.

Nigeria does not necessarily have to wait for every weakness in the electricity value chain to be solved simultaneously before beginning to create pockets of reliability.

A country of more than 200 million people, with enormous differences in industrial activity, population density and commercial demand, may have to proceed through carefully selected economic corridors while the wider system is repaired.

This is not an argument for abandoning the national grid. It is an argument for making the grid more economically purposeful.

The three corridors selected by the Ministry are revealing. Lagos and its adjoining industrial axis represent perhaps the country’s most concentrated commercial and industrial demand.

The Abuja-Kaduna-Kano corridor connects the political capital with major commercial and industrial centres in the North. Enugu-Port Harcourt links important commercial, manufacturing and energy-producing communities in the South-East and South-South.

These are not simply lines on a power map. They are lines on Nigeria’s economic map. That distinction matters.

For too long, Nigerians have experienced electricity largely as a household inconvenience. The light goes off. The generator comes on. A business buys diesel. A manufacturer factors self-generation into production costs. A hospital makes contingency arrangements.

A young entrepreneur learns, often painfully, that the real price of electricity is not what appears on the bill but what it costs to keep the business alive when the supply fails.

A reliable electricity corridor changes that equation.

If a factory knows that a particular industrial cluster has dependable power, investment decisions begin to change.

If a commercial district can plan around predictable electricity, operating costs become easier to manage.

If businesses can depend on supply for most of the day, generators can move from being the first line of defence to being what they were always supposed to be: backup.

This is where Tegbe’s technocratic instincts may prove significant.

His background is not that of a career power-sector operator. His professional experience has largely been in consulting, fiscal and economic reform, institutional transformation and advisory work. That background has been visible in his early approach to the ministry – diagnosis, audits, financial questions, infrastructure bottlenecks, and attempts to identify where one part of the system is preventing another from functioning properly.

His Energy Zones proposal fits that pattern. It treats the electricity market less as a single machine waiting for one dramatic repair and more as a system of interconnected constraints that can be isolated, diagnosed and addressed.

Tegbe had already identified the three corridors as priorities for grid stabilisation, with technical audits intended to establish the condition of critical infrastructure. The latest engagement with DisCos suggests that the idea is now moving beyond technical diagnosis towards the more difficult question of how distribution will work within those corridors.

That is where the hard work begins.

A 24-hour power zone cannot be created by a press statement. It requires generation that is available when needed, transmission capacity that can carry it, distribution infrastructure capable of receiving it, transformers and feeders that can withstand the load, metering that properly captures consumption, customers willing and able to pay, and a commercial structure in which the various participants have an incentive to keep the system working.

It also requires protection. Vandalism and energy theft do not respect administrative boundaries. Neither do faulty equipment, unpaid bills or poor collection practices. Tegbe himself has acknowledged that the sector’s problems reinforce one another. Weak collections affect the market. Market weakness affects maintenance and gas payments. Unreliable supply in turn depresses collections.

This is why the Energy Zone experiment, if it is to succeed, must be judged by more than the number of hours electricity is available.

The real test will be whether reliability begins to produce economic consequences. Does industrial output increase? Do businesses spend less on self-generation? Does investment respond? Do DisCos collect more because customers are receiving a service they can trust? Does the government recover enough value from improved commercial activity to justify further infrastructure investment?

Those are the questions that should eventually accompany the glossy language of 24-hour power.

And there is another question that Tegbe and the Federal Government will have to confront: what happens outside the zones?

Nigeria cannot become a collection of electrically privileged corridors surrounded by communities waiting indefinitely for their turn.

The logic of concentrating investment in high-demand areas can be defended economically, especially if the resulting commercial activity strengthens the wider electricity market.

But the strategy will ultimately have to demonstrate how successful zones become stepping stones towards broader reliability.

That is the difference between an experiment and a system.

There is also a danger in admiring the architecture of reform from the comfort of an office.

It has to be said here that the statement issued by the minister’s media aide was long on ambition and conspicuously short on the details that matter. No timeline. No capacity targets. No specific investment figures. It is the kind of announcement that has, historically, been the precursor to nothing at all.

So Nigerians should watch the idea with interest, but also with the healthy scepticism that comes from decades of promises about electricity.

The minister deserves a measure of credit for at least diagnosing an important part of the illness.

For once, the conversation has shifted from the head to the feet – from generation to distribution, from megawatts to money.

At the same time, the Nigerian people have been given blueprints before. They have learned to admire the drawings while the building crumbles.

The Energy Zones remain a proposal. The government has not yet announced the detailed capacity requirements, implementation timetable or precise infrastructure investments that would make 24-hour supply possible.

That is not necessarily a fatal flaw. It may simply mean the idea is still being worked out.

But it does mean that the language of 24-hour power should be treated as an aspiration until it is matched by the machinery of implementation.

Yet the proposal deserves attention because it reflects a potentially important shift in the way the power problem is being conceived.

Nigeria may not fix its electricity crisis in one heroic sweep. It may have to build reliability corridor by corridor, demand centre by demand centre, and economic cluster by economic cluster.

There is nothing inherently glamorous about such work. It is engineering, finance, regulation, distribution and relentless attention to the weak link in the chain. But perhaps that is precisely the point.

The country has spent decades waiting for the great national electricity breakthrough.

Tegbe’s emerging approach suggests something less dramatic and potentially more practical: make a few economically critical parts of the system work properly, learn from them, strengthen the model, and expand it.

The success of that approach will ultimately be measured not in speeches or megawatts, but in what Nigerians can do with the electricity when it arrives.

Does the factory run a second shift? Does the business hire more workers? Does the hospital keep its equipment running through the night? Does the young entrepreneur stop budgeting for diesel and start budgeting for growth?

Also read: Everton Celebrates Nigeria’s 66th Independence With Football Legends

That is where the real power story begins. And that is the standard against which Tegbe’s Energy Zones should ultimately be judged: not by whether 24-hour power sounds impressive in a press release, but by whether the lights stay on long enough for Nigerians to build something with them.