On the fifth floor of one of Nairobi's gleaming innovation hubs, the hum of ambition is palpable. Logos of USAID, DfID, the Mastercard Foundation, and other donors line the walls. Young entrepreneurs in crisp shirts and designer sneakers pitch fintech solutions, climate-tech platforms, and e-commerce applications to panels streaming in from London, New York, and Silicon Valley. Cameras flash, mentors nod, and social media posts announce another "African success story." Visibility, funding, mentorship - all the markers of modern entrepreneurship - are within reach. Step just a few kilometres east, into Kariobangi or Gikomba, and the story changes completely. Here, tailors stitch uniforms for local schools, metalworkers fabricate furniture for small businesses, and small-scale food processors experiment with flavours for the city's markets. These innovators employ dozens, generate local wealth, and sustain the informal economy, yet they are largely invisible to donor programmes, accelerator reports, and international media narratives.
The question is glaring: how can Africa celebrate a thriving entrepreneurship ecosystem while the majority of its innovators remain excluded? The answer lies in how donor-funded programmes define, curate, and broadcast "successful entrepreneurship." Analysis of World Bank Enterprise Surveys and AfDB SME data shows that while micro, small, and medium enterprises dominate Kenya's economy - accounting for more than 35% of GDP and employing upwards of 90% of the workforce - formal aid disproportionately flows toward a narrow, elite segment of entrepreneurs operating within formal, urban, and networked ecosystems. Between 2019 and 2024, East African startups raised nearly $4 billion, with Kenya alone capturing $3.3 billion. The bulk of these funds are channelled through incubators, accelerators, and tech hubs rather than directly to micro and informal enterprises.
Structural barriers filter who gains access. To secure funding, entrepreneurs must speak the donor's language: pitch decks, projections, scalability plans, and investor-ready presentations. Many of Nairobi's informal innovators, working entirely in cash or micro-enterprises, lack formal registration, access to banking, or experience with business plans. Jane Wanjiku, a metalworker in Kariobangi, has run her workshop for more than a decade, employing five assistants and supplying local schools and small businesses with furniture and machinery parts. She has never attended a boot camp, never written a pitch deck, never applied for an accelerator programme. "I hear about these programs on the radio," she says. "They ask for tech apps, business plans, and growth projections. I just fix steel."
Samson Ochieng, a young programmer from Eastlands, built an app for local food vendors, designed to streamline payments and inventory. He applied to two major incubators but was rejected because his user base was "too small" and his growth projections didn't match the expected metrics. Meanwhile, high-profile fintech startups that secured donor funding and media visibility dominate Nairobi's innovation narrative. Their stories are celebrated internationally, while grassroots innovators like Jane and Samson remain largely unheard.
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This selective amplification has created an "aid elite" - a small cadre of entrepreneurs who enjoy funding, mentorship, media visibility, and global recognition. Accelerator programmes, co-working hubs, and boot camps themselves consume significant resources: overheads, marketing, consultant fees, and event costs. In some cases, the majority of donor funding never reaches the local economy but circulates within the ecosystem of visibility, training, and curated success stories. Ndidi Nwuneli, founder of LEAP Africa, calls this the "visibility economy of entrepreneurship." Dr Bitange Ndemo, former Permanent Secretary for ICT, notes that "donor programmes often reward polish and presentation over actual local impact. The young innovators who can perform for the camera are elevated; the majority, who sustain our communities, are invisible."
Data reveal further inequalities. Afrobarometer surveys indicate that most African youth aspire to entrepreneurship but have little access to meaningful support; only a minority believe donor programmes are accessible. In Kenya, fewer than 16% of MSMEs have access to formal credit, despite accounting for the bulk of employment. The informal economy, which employs roughly 80-90% of workers, remains largely excluded. Success stories dominate media narratives, portraying an innovation ecosystem that is more aspirational than inclusive.
This curation extends to how the media and donors frame entrepreneurship. Nairobi has become Africa's "Silicon Savannah," a label that highlights a few startups and tech entrepreneurs while masking the structural inequities that leave informal innovators underserved. International conferences, press releases, and donor reports routinely celebrate the same cohort of entrepreneurs, perpetuating the perception that Africa's innovation is confined to a handful of hubs. These narratives influence policy, attract more funding to the same networks, and reinforce urban and educational hierarchies.
Yet the stakes are real. The informal sector is the backbone of Nairobi's economy, providing jobs and livelihoods to millions. Without support, small-scale metalworkers, tailors, food processors, and low-tech innovators struggle to survive. Initiatives that fail to address this gap risk perpetuating dependency on aid and international visibility for a select few, while leaving the majority of African entrepreneurs marginalized.
Some interventions are experimenting with more inclusive approaches. Micro-grants, community-based incubators, and low-barrier mentorship programmes attempt to reach informal innovators. Local organizations have begun documenting real impact: the number of jobs created, the local value added, and the sustainability of small enterprises. Experts stress that funding is only part of the solution. Recognition and narrative power are just as crucial. Visibility, media coverage, and donor attention must be redistributed to include innovators who create tangible economic impact in their communities.
The entrepreneurship mirage is seductive because it promises empowerment, innovation, and opportunity. But for the majority of African innovators, it remains elusive. Africa's economies can only benefit when donors, media, and policymakers redistribute funding and narrative power toward those who sustain local growth and employment. Until then, the mirage endures: a dazzling vision of entrepreneurship for the few, invisibility for the many, and a continent's real innovators left unheard.
Kevin D. Mofokeng is a Botswana-based freelance journalist who uses narrative storytelling to surface silenced voices and critical issues across Africa. With over six years of experience, his work spans social impact development, politics, democracy, governance, humanitarian affairs, and sustainable development.