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Gatwĩri Njogu-Mokaya has no time for affectation. She starts as she means to go on, laying it all on the line, throwing the dice, and accepting the hand that life deals her.
"My mother told me, 'Do not start something you will not maintain.' We laughed about it, but it has guided my decisions," she says. "This is it; this is me, what you see is the Gatwiri you get.”
And the Gatwiri you get is the Gatwiri whose eyes burn with the ambition to raze up VunaPay to become the voice—not necessarily of the voiceless—but those deliberately silenced. Everyone roots for the underdog, you see. But she is not settling for scraps; she is on course to sign up thousands of cooperatives.
"My biggest fear is to be nothing," she says.
Perhaps that is why she sees the obstacle as the way. With the CV to back it (stints at Safaricom and Oracle Corporation) she wants more—to do more, to be more. She does not believe in being a kept wife.
"I am wired to work, but family is the foundation of my growth," she says.
Family is the root that has allowed her to grow VunaPay, which provides instant payments to farmers as they deliver their produce to Agricultural Cooperatives, saving them from late payments. She is now reaping the fruits but is careful to note that she's barely dug past the topsoil of what VunaPay can achieve.
What was the personal story that led to VunaPay?
My Uncle Kimathi. He would ask me for some small money, yet I knew he was not lazy. Something must have been broken for him to work that hard and not get the money he needed it. I left employment after 15 years to solve that problem, a broken system where one cannot get one's money when s/he needs it. I always wanted to set up my own business.
Every startup promises to change the world, what’s something different you are bringing to the table?
I want to ensure that smallholder farmer can access their money when needed. Agriculture is the backbone of our economy, with smallholder farmers making up 20-30 percent of our overall output. My vision is to ensure all the Uncle Kimathis in Africa have fast access to their money.
Why would an Uncle Kimathi come to VunaPay?
We accelerate payment to the smallholder farmers when they take their produce to the cooperative. Usually, they are paid after six months or the end of the year. VunaPay partners with the cooperatives to map out and digitize the farmers, knowing how much they have delivered as their produce. I partner with financiers such as KCB Bank, and a government fund that helps to front the money immediately at favourable rates to the farmer when they need the cash in advance payment.
Would anyone who is not part of a cooperative get served by VunaPay?
Currently, they have to be in a cooperative. It isn't easy to onboard thousands of farmers as a single entity. Still, there are government and NGO initiatives to ensure these other subsistence farmers can sell their produce through a cooperative.
What is the adoption rate of VunaPay?
It has been better than I expected. We have been in the market for a year and a half, and now we are at 40 cooperatives, with an even longer list awaiting approvals. This is a real need that these cooperatives have.
What is the major challenge that you are facing?
The available interest rates. For the crops that a government fund would cover, such as the commodities fund, they'd give single-digit interest rates in this market, which is rare. What they don't cover, you find the bank rates are quite expensive. With time, it shall reduce. Secondly, there is some gatekeeping in cooperatives, but many are quite willing. There is always some politics at play…
Politics in what sense?
Factional fights.
How are you mitigating against said politics?
We let the farmer know that we work with everyone. We attended many AGMs and talked to farmers, for instance, one cooperative kicked out their old board, and the new board invited us to the table. We are here for the farmer.
What would you consider VunaPay’s star achievement so far?
Uncle Kimathi, who farms maize, can get a better rate than they would get from the brokers who drive around with a "take-it-or-leave-it" offer. He can take his maize to a particular cooperative-owned miller, and the miller can pay them immediately, each getting the best rates from the other. Unlike coffee, where people are expected to wait, maize farmers expect immediate payments.
Have you had instances where the government has acted in a conflict of interest with you and smallholder farmers?
Coffee is the biggest crop we are dealing with. However, the coffee reforms and good intentions made many smallholder farmers wait. My experiences are generally good.
You mentioned coffee being a big part of your business, but many coffee farmers have cleared their land in Favor of real estate. How has this affected your business?
It involves smallholder farmers, who sell quickly. Many people cutting off the coffee are the youth who will not wait for six months for payment. They would cut off the bushes and buy a boda because the payment would be immediate. I mean, half of Kiambu is Runda [chuckles]. But we have trained an A.I. model at VunaPay where farmers can take photos of their coffee and it can grade—and thus farmers are paid depending on what they bring in, which is unlike what happens in cooperatives, where everyone is paid the same, it doesn’t matter if your coffee is better.
From your experience, is there a unique insight you have noticed with smallholder farmers?
The youth may be discarding agriculture. The average age of the farmer is 60 years old, yet the median age in Kenya is about 19. This is the basis of our products; the youth are leaving agriculture because of late payments. They want value by being paid immediately. We can force more young people into farming, by allowing them to bring their produce and getting paid up to 5-6%.
Back in school, there used to be the 4K club. "Kuungana, Kufanya, Kusaidia Kenya." Is this a market you can tap into?
I didn’t always want to do agriculture; I did French. But as you grow up, you see everything goes back to farming. The way people talk to the youth about agribusiness could be the problem because it seems that being a farmer is a poor man's choice. My daughter chose gardening for her school club. We need to change the mindset.
About 90% of startups die within the first five years. How are you ensuring that you buck this trend?
My two cofounders and I are motivated enough to do this for the next 10 years. I wanted to solve this problem for the next 10 years. Secondly, we cannot talk enough about unit economics. Even as I scale, I want us to see unit economics keenly. I love impact, but we should fail quickly and move forward if unit economics doesn't work.
Define your unit economics.
The cost of, for instance, getting this water to me and if there is any profitability to it. That is, whatever the business is, breaking it down to the unit of service and that each unit is taking care of your money. My cost of serving each farmer has to make sense.
Did you always know you would end up as a CEO or founder, seeing that you could still have solved this problem if you had attached yourself to an organization?
I was in innovation and products at Safaricom. I rolled out said products that were quite impactful but still commercially viable, seeing first-hand the impact and seeing it end to end because you are dealing with taxation, partners, accounts, legal et al. which gives you the training to be a CEO. I did a five-year stint at a big tech giant, and I kept reminiscing about my role in products. I wanted to make an impact.
To be a good leader, you have to be a good follower. Without you mentioning the cliché of CEO-as-everything in a startup, how has it been different from being an employee now that the buck stops with you?
The money ha ha! From a well-paid job to what I am making now, it is much smaller, yet the work is much harder, about three times! These days, all I think about is unit economies [chuckles]. Secondly, I don't think big tech now, as I have discovered that there is an app for everything. People are solving real-life problems for where I am now, and I can also do things and move quickly. I had been poached as an expert serving in an Africa-wide role, but if I wanted anything done, I had to get signoffs from San Fransisco, and by the time they got back, things had changed. Now, I am the one making the decisions, and there is nothing quite like being able to navigate very fast.
Most positions in tech are predominantly male—has being a woman been an impediment or a launchpad for you?
It was only when I got to startups the fact that I was a woman became an issue—in a positive way. In corporate, I always thought of myself as an employee. I had my babies while at Safaricom, except the last born. And they took care of us—mother's rooms and longer maternities, so perhaps I am speaking from a point of privilege, which might not be the same for others. Even at Oracle, I could work at home. In the startup world, some things make me realize I am a woman, like say most of the V.C. [venture capitalists] events are in the evening, and I have kids. I have a very supportive husband, but you want to be there, to pick up your kids, and hear how their day was and still be there at the event, but it is hard because I am one person. What pleasantly surprised me was that I had many V.C.s focused on women.
It's always a woman breaking the proverbial glass ceiling, never men. How has your experience been with personal relationships, especially marriage and children?
If I could get married again, I would still marry the same person. He has been fantastic. When I quit, and got some calls, he was my soundboard to keep pursuing my dream. He is part of my think tank, and he has done well for himself in corporate. And I pray the same for other CEOs to have someone supportive. For me family is extremely important, I'd rather drop VunaPay than anything to do with my family. It is what gives me the strength to do what I do.
Was there a moment when having a family made you focus on certain aspects of your career more or less?
After I had my first baby, my husband got an international assignment. The plan was for me to move with him, and Bob [Collymore] was quite supportive, but the whole process was taking too long, so I took a sabbatical. I'd always choose family first. I was a kept wife for over a year [chuckles]. My mother would call me a "Desperate Housewife" ha ha! Because we would spend time at the hotel with other expats and talk.
Where does your ambition stem from—what are you running away from or chasing?
I am not running away from anything. I tend to remember the positives from my experiences. I believe we are all here for a purpose—not making money unless it is for a purpose—and there is always much to be done to improve Kenya. I want to make sure I am doing what I can.
How are you defining success and failure now?
When the age limit of the smallholder farmer has been reduced, even if it is just 55 years old, that means the youth are taking it up. Conversely, failure is when I don't make an impact; if by providing smallholder farmers access to payment and they use it for vices, then I shall know what I was trying to achieve hasn't worked.
When you get to where you are going, where will you be?
Is there ever such a thing as arriving? Every day, the target keeps moving. I am not good at sitting; there is always much more to do.
What is the price you are paying for your ambition?
Less money [chuckles]. I can wake up and work from home. If I am not out there, I can make things work around to spend time with my family. I am not willing to sacrifice my family.
Why is family so important?
It is what I know. My parents brought us up together, and we have continued the tradition of meeting every Sunday with my four married siblings. We call it dunch because it is in between lunch and dinner.
What is the one question you are asking yourself now?
Am I measuring all the things that need to be measured? I wouldn't say I like to fail and that what I will provide is beneficial to the smallholders and putting ways for you to spend money on what is important.
What does the future look like?
I want to ensure we can provide all smallholder farmers with economic inclusion, not just financial inclusion. And do it across Africa, Latin America, and Southeast Asia.
Business leans on upward and downward opportunities. The upward opportunity is what your customers are asking for and what you know how to do best, for instance, faster connectivity. The downward opportunity is what no one sees then, which is often ignored. Is there a downward opportunity in the industry that people are not paying attention to?
I don't know if I have. In my dream, the smallholder farmers should be in the driving seat, where Uncle Kimathi can grow his produce, knowing Seattle needs it. I want to be that person who makes the connection for them possible. Right now, they are what everybody uses.
What is your competitor doing better and why?
My competitors are the Saccos. I think I am doing better because people can request me for advances, but they [saccos] can provide more services like savings and loans.
What do you have that others don't?
Your questions are quite deep. We have a unique set of competencies as founders—Koya Matsuno, the COO, and Ian Wambai, the CTO—which allows us to see beyond each other's blind spots. We have a global outlook, tech, and finance, which we don't find in many cooperatives. We are also very driven by our vision. And as Gatwiri, I have God on my side. That's why I believe I can do anything.
What does Uncle Kimathi think of Gatwiri now?
He is quite proud. He has become a carbon credit trainer and is getting paid. I am very happy that, in my small way, I have impacted him. and other smallholder farmers. I have a photo of him and his wife in my presentations, and he knows I always have his back.
By Eddy Ashioya