The Chronicles of IAN

I’m pissed off after my journey at IAN.

I joined IAN full of hope and optimism about the future. I saw the many possibilities and took up the opportunity with open arms. I was happy — even just working on something amazing like “Changing the African Narrative” felt like enough. However, the signs of toxic culture and moral decay were present, but I ignored them. I shut them out because they interfered with my passion, morale, and work output. No high performer wants to hear people complain about how bad their boss is or how the culture is fear-based. I just wanted to get shit done. So I turned my head toward the vision and mission of the company, despite the founder’s glaring shortcomings.

I had a few run-ins with Mark — the kind that any experienced professional would have found deeply disrespectful, like yelling, cussing, throwing tantrums, and insults. But I was just a fresh graduate. I didn’t know any better. I even convinced myself this was how workplaces were. So I pushed through and got the job done. And I did it well, turning a far-fetched tipping platform idea into a company growing at 5,500% in 2024, making $4,500 in MRR when I left.

When I started working on Shukran, most people thought it would fail. They believed it was just another one of those U.S.-imported ideas Mark thought would work here. Many dismissed it — “Why focus on a product that solves a problem for the rich minority who eat at fancy restaurants and have extra change to tip?” I thought the same thing, honestly. However, my dad was an avid tipper, and I had seen him tip a number of times, so I gave it a shot. I had an opportunity, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I went all in — reading books, building relationships with customers, listening to podcasts. I’d write notes at midnight, burning through episodes between 12 AM and 2 AM to figure out this game. I lived and breathed Shukran.

Even my mum started calling me Mr. Shukran. She’d ask, “Are you still Shukraning?” I always was. Always thinking about it. Always working. I put aside other ideas, storing them for “someday.” I told myself I’d come back to them once Shukran succeeded. I believed I was building a billion-dollar company that could employ 1,000 people. I didn’t know how I’d do it, but I trusted the process.

In our search for product-market fit, I began to witness the rot. Not just in how fellows were treated, but in the whispers. The Fundraising Lead left after alleged rape by Mark during a U.S. trip. Everyone seemed to know, and people were disgusted. Around the same time, some fellows demanded a raise. They’d taken pay cuts during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, trusting Mark when funding was low. But it became clear IAN was doing better — and they wanted fair compensation.

Mark wasn’t having it. The more they pushed, the harsher he became. Fear multiplied tenfold. Teams began cooking numbers in weekly and quarterly reviews just to survive. I chose honesty — and paid for it with brutal accusations. Apparently, I wasn’t working hard enough. No one told Mark that you can’t rush product-market fit. It takes 18 to 36 months on average. Shukran got there in 19. But those 19 months were hell.

I worked late, usually until 11 PM or even 2 AM. I’d call a boda every night, go home, crash, wake up late, repeat. I got sick often. I was sleep-deprived and under immense pressure — both from Mark and from leading a team too afraid to try new things for fear of being shouted at. They resorted to telling Mark what he wanted to hear and not what was really happening.

Ironically, Mark was our biggest user — our only user at times. We built for him, and that narrowed our thinking. We targeted restaurants he frequented — Haru, Cultiva, Artcaffe. But these restaurants didn’t care much about staff tips. Waiters didn’t either, as they preferred cash or direct M-PESA. Privacy wasn’t their issue. They’d entertain stalkers if it meant repeat tips.

We were building a product for one man — a man who thought tipping made him a saviour.

Mark always had that thing — seeing himself as the helper of lost souls. The Silicon Valley prophet returned to redeem the continent. At first, I believed him. But the longer I worked, the more I saw. And once you see, you can’t unsee.

But he was wrong. Eventually, even he couldn’t ignore what was happening in the ecosystem. Startups like Twiga and LipaLater were taking off. Founders outside IAN with actual traction were rising. Mark pivoted. Suddenly, we weren’t the first wave — they were. He started a fund and aligned with the "big boys." The project of empowering fellows faded. He wanted in on real success now.

But the ecosystem marked him eventually. Experienced founders saw through the ego. Many of his investments failed. He became toxic — even asking founders to return investment money, violating their agreements. People distanced themselves.

That’s when he started calling IAN the OG Gen-Z movement, immediately after the Gen Z protests over the Finance Bill 2024. But let’s be honest — he wasn’t leading anything. He was clinging to relevance. From visionary change-maker to wannabe VC. From aspiring movement-builder to failed fund manager. From mentor to predator.

Yes, predator.

Let’s talk about the sexual misconduct — because it wasn’t just one incident. Women at IAN have spoken, privately and publicly. Tweets, Glassdoor, whispers in hallways. You don’t sleep with 5+ women at your workplace and expect no drama. You don’t hit on married employees and expect your company to thrive. You don’t bring wild honey back home and expect not to get stung. Control. Your. Dick.

If this is bad, the realisation that came next broke the camel's back for me.

Four years. I gave everything to Shukran. I ignored the toxicity, believed in the mission, and worked toward a decade-long vision. I rejected big jobs. I led teams. I sacrificed family time. But when it came to equity, I had nothing. Just 10%, or 5% after full dilution. Vesting over 7 years. Not even on the board. Not even a co-founder on paper.

Just an employee.

And when I asked about it, I got scolded. Told it was “at his discretion” to give me equity in the business. That he could unsay what he once said. That I should “trust” he’d “take care” of me. That I was not even a classic founder and should be grateful to get any stake in the business. Listen to the meeting yourself. If you think Mark is a noble leader, it will burst your bubble.
Listen here

For context, Shukran was incubated at IAN from July 2021. It received investment from FHV in November 2022 of $150K. It then received $50K in funding from FHV again in November 2023. IAN has incubated over 10+ startups which have benefited from the supposed $1M in investment. Only 3 companies exist today, with Shukran being the most successful. The only reason is because I put in the work when others would have given up. However, the structure is diabolical:

IAN – Supposed $1M investment where Mark is the founder (overstated and spread across 10+ startups) – 10%
FHV – Actual $175K investment where Mark is Managing Partner – 15%
Mathenge – No investment, 3+ years leading Shukran, earning $700/month net – 10% over 7 years
Mark – $25K investment, advisor role – 20%
Growth Studio Ventures – Shell company for "anti-dilution", no investment, fully owned by Mark – 45%

I showed potential investors this structure and they were all shocked. For someone spending their waking hours building a company and carrying the vision, only to get 10% over a 7-year period at pre-seed level is simply absurd. I must admit, when signing those documents, I had no visibility into the shareholding structure of the business, nor did I do my due diligence. I should have been more critical about the shareholding structure in November 2023. I would have then decided if it was worth my time and the missed opportunities to take such a skewed deal.

Lesson: You cannot trust people fully like some saviour who claims to have your best interests at heart — lest they turn on you three years later and give you a harsh reality check, blaming you for trusting their so-called goodwill. It’s just business in the end. Thank God I’ve learned this early in life.

That’s when I knew: I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t give 7 more years of my life to someone who didn’t see what I brought to the table. I had no power, no ownership, and no respect. That is not how companies are built. Founders need autonomy, respect, and equity. If you don’t give them that, you’ve already lost them.

I realised I had been played from day one. No lies indeed — just a play on my ignorance. A real fool. I had built something incredible, but I had nothing to show for it. I was an innovator — treated like a servant. A creator — without ownership.

This is a cautionary tale. About founders who parade as saviours. About organisations that ride on noble pursuits but run like cults. About ego disguised as vision. About the cost of silence. But it’s also a story of awakening.

I learnt what it means to be an entrepreneur — in a world where people are always looking out for themselves. I learnt that even good intentions can hide greed. That words mean nothing without aligned incentives and proper paperwork. That power, if unchecked, corrupts. If a man comes to preach salvation, you must ask him if he is Jesus Christ. If he is not, ask him what’s in it for him. If he cannot answer, and only preaches that trusting him will save you — ask him to kindly fuck off. I am done with prophets. We have too many in Kenya. The world would be better off without them.

But I also learnt this: if you give people a fair deal, a compelling vision, and room to grow — they will go to war with you. If you treat them with respect and generosity, they will ride or die for you. Humans are tribal. Lead your tribe right, and they’ll carry you through hell and back.

This is life. This is the game.

I have also learnt the gift of opportunity. Despite the harsh realities of life, one can still draw important lessons from it. One can still walk through the fire and transform into something greater. That a man’s mindset is not just his strength but his redemption in dark times. That even if a great man loses all his wealth, networks, and fame, he can build it back up again — with extra. For the work of his hands, the knowledge in his mind, and his very character cannot be taken from him. They live innately in his being, built through his experience, his preparation, and ultimately manifest as luck — through the guiding hand of fate, or what some call the divine.

It’s funny how life works. When I joined IAN, I wrote in my journal that I would spend 3 to 4 years there to learn how to be an entrepreneur. I joined on 21st Feb 2021. I left on 27th March 2025. Sometimes God does answer prayers — just not immediately, or in the manner we prefer. But He does. I bought into the vision along the way, but He didn’t. He knew this wasn’t my fate. That something else lay beyond it. I know not what it may be — but let’s find out.

I’ve learned immutable truths.

And now I’m awake.