Fisayo Durojaye has lived many lives. He’s been an investment banker, a venture capitalist, and an educator. Throughout his career, Durojaye has held the belief that local context is crucial in making good investment decisions. This ideology has served him well by shaping his approach to angel investing, which has already yielded an exit, informed his venture capital career, and formed the foundation of his VC course, Immerse VC.
He has invested in three Nigerian startups as an angel investor: Oneport 365, a Nigerian logistics startup that raised $5 million in seed funding (which he has exited); Shuttlers, a startup digitising shared commutes; and Homefort, a clean energy startup. While this may not make him a prolific angel investor by volume, his hands-on support in helping these startups raise capital has earned him his stripes in the ecosystem.
“All three [companies] were structured the same way,” Durojaye told in an interview. “I saw the deal first, brought others in, and invested alongside. That’s my style. I say I’m a good investor, it’s because I can spot great deals and convince others to co-invest.”
Immerse VC has already produced several venture capital analysts now working at firms like Seven VC, Lofty Inc., and Kuramo Capital, with students from firms like Consonance, Oui Capital, Sahara Ventures, and the IFC also attending.
Durojaye told that he started Immerse VC to help solve what he called a financial understanding problem, designing the course to help participants learn how to properly evaluate businesses and make informed investment decisions.
“People say a company is ‘scalable’ just because it doesn’t own assets,” he said. “But that’s not always true. If you look at the accounts, you’ll see how tight the margins are. Some of them are losing money at the revenue line. If you understand finance, you’ll see this stuff instantly. That’s why I teach it. This is about helping people avoid bad deals and business models that don’t work.”
spoke to Durojaye to understand his investment approach and why he’s teaching the next generation of African investors.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
You started in investment banking, and now you’re a VC, angel investor, and educator. How did all this happen?
It started with trying to understand business news. I wasn’t aiming to learn finance at first—I just wanted the business sections of the papers to make sense. I’d Google stuff, and that’s how I started learning finance. By my second year in school, I realised I was more interested in finance than in English (which I studied) or Law (which I planned on studying).
When I graduated, I started working for free, and by the time I got my first job, I realised something: my colleagues had first-class degrees in economics, but none of us knew anything useful for investment banking. The schools hadn’t prepared us for the job. So we all had to be trained from scratch.
That’s when I understood that I wasn’t at a disadvantage. Sure, they knew the theory better, but I understood the markets. That’s the difference, and as I got more comfortable in my second year as an analyst, I started teaching. I’d seen that the new guys joining also didn’t know much, so I figured, “Why not help them?”
I started teaching investment banking in 2014, a year after I joined in 2013. My friends and I started a company called EduBridge Academy. We started teaching on weekends, and we taught finance, PowerPoint, Excel, financial modelling, and macroeconomics—all the tools you need in investment banking.
Four years into my investment banking career, I was tired. I wanted more. The typical transition back then was investment banking to private equity. This was around 2015–2016, and VC wasn’t a thing yet. I was looking for PE roles, but there weren’t many.
Then I stumbled on EchoVC, applied, and got the job. Before that, I was already interested in tech. At EchoVC, I could stay close to finance and support early-stage founders. These companies needed help: recruiting, finance, modelling—all of it. Once I got into VC, I noticed people didn’t understand accounting or finance. In VC, people just throw out things like “valuation is a multiple of revenue.” But even basic revenue concepts are misunderstood.
So I saw the gap and thought, “let me teach analysts and associates in VC.” That’s how it started. I designed a six-week program, similar to EdBridge, and started teaching on-the-job skills.
Was there a particular moment or deal that made you realise you wanted to leave investment banking for VC?
I was already getting tired of investment banking. If you know how it works, you do a deal, collect your fee, and move on to the next. We were hunters. One deal that solidified it for me was Mainstreet Bank.
We helped sell Enterprise Bank first, and I was the lead analyst on it. It was a good deal—we made a lot of money. But after Skye Bank acquired Mainstreet, they had “indigestion.” They couldn’t integrate, and eventually both banks failed. The Central Bank had to step in and merge them into Polaris. We got paid, but my legacy went down the drain.
Our client, the Asset Management Corporation of Nigeria, was happy because they sold the bank for a good price. But for me, it didn’t sit right. That’s when I started rethinking the work.
When I eventually entered VC, I realised that’s where I belonged. One of the first deals I worked on at EchoVC was LifeBank. The founder was passionate about solving blood shortages and poor healthcare infrastructure. We gave her money, but we didn’t stop there. We helped with recruiting, finance, modelling—all of it. It wasn’t just investing but active support. That resonated with me.
Fast-forward a few years: when my wife was about to deliver our first son, she needed blood. Guess who delivered it? LifeBank.
We could afford everything, but still, it was a full-circle moment. We had invested in the company that later helped me during a critical personal moment. That made me feel like I was doing something worthwhile. That’s the legacy I want.
You have always emphasised the importance of local knowledge. What does that mean in the context of VC?
Local context is critical in investing. Back in the day, people were raising money for “financial inclusion,”, and their solution was, “download an app.”
That doesn’t solve anything. How does app download translate to financial inclusion? If you understand the local market, you won’t fall for that kind of story.
Let me give you an example: Shuttlers. I lived that problem. When I was in investment banking, I didn’t have a car, and I hated yellow buses. Sometimes I had no choice, and I remember one rainy day sitting in a bus with rain leaking in.
That’s when I switched to BRT. I had to get to the bus stop by 4:30 a.m. every day to catch the first set of buses. That was my life—wake up early, join the queue.
So when I saw Shuttlers’ solution—structured AC buses that offered convenience for a bit more money, I immediately saw the value. Uber isn’t daily transport. But this model? It could work for millions.
Local context helped me see that. If I’m investing in Kenya, where I haven’t lived, I rely on investors there. Founders will pitch the dream, but only people on the ground can validate it. Even pricing nuances are important. It shapes whether the deal is viable.
Besides Shuttlers, is there any other deal where local knowledge helped you make or avoid an investment?
Yes. OnePort. The founder had been a customs broker for years. He understood freight forwarding, customs, and shipping. He built a platform that allowed you to bypass a lot of the hassle at the port.
He aggregated shipping rates across providers, like the “Wakanow” of freight logistics. It solved a real problem, and I understood the pain point because I’d seen it firsthand.
What did you learn from exiting OnePort?
What I’ve learnt is: when you see liquidity, take it.
I exited OnePort even though I didn’t want to. The lead investor didn’t want a bunch of small angels holding up the cap table. It was a decent return. Not great at the time, but looking back, most angel investors haven’t even gotten cash back from their deals.
I have, and that counts. Liquidity is everything in this game. Take it when it comes.
You’ve already shared why you started teaching and the gaps you were trying to fill. What’s been your most rewarding moment as a teacher?
My most rewarding moment came from the very first lady who joined Immerse. She called me one day and said she’d just gotten a job at Kuramo Capital.
I hadn’t even known she was in the process. I knew the people at Kuramo, and I could’ve put in a word. But I didn’t even need to. She told me she only had the confidence to apply because of what she learnt at Immerse.
This is someone who had already been working in VC. To hear her say that Immerse gave her the confidence to even apply was humbling. I didn’t realise how much of an impact we were having.
Another proud moment was a student who got a job after three years of trying. I saw how tough it was for him to get into VC. That showed resilience. These two stand out because they show how far confidence and competence can take you.
When you were building the Immerse curriculum, how did you balance global venture capital frameworks with the nuances of investing in Africa?
Our curriculum is probably the most comprehensive VC curriculum out there, and that’s because we’re not just teaching theory. That’s why I called it “Immerse.” It’s immersive and very practical.
We don’t have time for fluff. From Day 1, we dive right in. We build a fund model from Day 1. Six weeks isn’t a lot of time, so we make every minute count.
I also knew we couldn’t be removed from the ecosystem. That’s why we bring in players from the ecosystem so that participants get real-world context. We’ve built a solid balance between heavy technical work and ecosystem integration.
From a global perspective, VC is VC. It’s like investment banking—whether at JPMorgan or Goldman Sachs, the fundamentals are the same. The difference is where you’re applying it.
But here’s the thing: America’s VC system was designed for its ecosystem. You can build a unicorn in California without leaving your state. In Africa, you don’t have that luxury. It’s fragmented. You expand across borders, deal with language barriers, and then the FX devalues your capital while you’re executing. It’s tough from Day 1.
While the American 10-year fund life cycle works there, I don’t think it works in Africa. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. You can’t create a new structure because LPs—mostly Americans and Europeans—only understand the VC model.
Local capital doesn’t want to touch VC because they don’t understand it either, so you’re forced to adopt a model that isn’t suited to your market. That’s what we try to address at Immerse.
We do an exercise where we ask, “How big can this business get?” Not from a valuation perspective, but revenue. That’s something we can control. We ask our students to think about what the business needs to look like operationally at that revenue size.
What are the most common misconceptions your students have about VC when they start the course?
A big misconception is that VC is glamorous and easy. They look at analysts and associates and see them living well—big salaries, nice cars—and assume the work is straightforward. Another is that people think their job is just to cut cheques. They don’t realise that, even as an analyst, you’re a steward of capital. You may be earning a salary, but you have a fiduciary responsibility to the limited partners.
I try to dispel all of this from day one, which is why we start the Immerse program with fund modelling. When people see what it takes to return money in a 10-year fund cycle, it becomes very real.
Do you think VC can be taught, or do you mostly learn it through doing deals and pattern recognition?
When we started doing VC in Africa, most of us didn’t know anything. All we had were templates from the U.S. We copied what we saw in the Valley because that’s all the limited partners understood, too.
I believe VC can be taught; otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing Immerse. What I’m teaching now, I learnt from experience. That’s the difference.
But over the past 10 years, we’ve built experience here. We now know what works and what doesn’t. That’s what I’m passing on.
Of course, the market will still teach you a lot through deals, losses, and pattern recognition. But the fundamentals can definitely be taught.
What’s your take on the current state of VC in Africa—are we in a moment of recalibration or acceleration?
It’s recalibration. A lot of funds didn’t have enough money in the last two years. But that’s changing—many funds are closing again this year.
However, most of them are not raising money on the same thesis they used before. Everyone is pivoting to climate or some hot vertical—because that’s where LP interest lies and not necessarily because they believe in it deeply.
Yes, more money is coming back into the system, but it’s cautious money. No one is writing checks just because another big-name VC did. This is the last chance for many funds. If they don’t deliver this time—real returns, real exits—they likely won’t be able to raise again.
We’re in a moment of cautious recalibration, not acceleration.
What’s one structural change that you believe would unlock the next generation of African GPs?
Everyone talks about local capital, but I think the real unlock is liquidity. Can smaller investors exit early when a company grows? Can PFAs (Pension Fund Administrators) participate in the ecosystem, either through funds or directly in startups?
Until we figure out liquidity, nothing else truly scales. Today, banks fund big corporations. PE funds write big cheques. VC funds chase the shiny tech founders. But there’s no capital for the middle—those solid, non-VC-style businesses.
We need a new class of funders and a clearer path to liquidity. Once we have that, everything else will fall into place.
Because once final buyers signal what they want, we can all align and build companies accordingly—price discipline, realistic exits, real business models.
What advice would you give to new angel investors trying to break into African tech?
Start from no. That should be your default stance. Don’t invest unless the company proves it’s investment-worthy.
Angel investing in Africa is extremely risky. Even VCs only invest in 1% of the startups they see. And angels, unlike VCs, don’t have a portfolio to balance that risk.
Only say yes when you have conviction, and you know you can help the founder grow to the next round. VC is hard. The funnel gets narrower as you go up. You start with 100 startups getting angel cheques. Maybe 50 get seed rounds. Maybe 10 make it to Series A. Maybe 2 to Series B.
If you’re an angel investor, the odds are stacked against you. You’re likely to lose money. So your default setting should be “no” until proven otherwise.
For angel investors who do say “yes”, how should they think about conviction and portfolio strategy?
Angel investing is faith-based. There’s usually very little to go on—just a founder and an idea.
That’s why I say: only invest where you have deep expertise. If you’re an ex-banker, back a fintech. You can add value there. If you’re a former medical director, invest in a healthtech company you can support.
It’s not just “take cash and go.” You’re essentially joining that startup as a co-founder. You’re now a team member. If you can’t help the company hit its next milestone—say, from $1K to $50K monthly revenue—then you shouldn’t be investing. Because if they don’t grow, you lose your money.
Conviction has to be matched with commitment and competence. Once you say yes, you’ve signed up to help them get to the next round. Otherwise, you should have just said no.
What makes a founder stand out to you?
Domain expertise. If I know more about your industry than you do, then you’re not serious. That’s the first filter for me. You should know your space deeply.
The second thing is integrity. Founders underestimate how much investors value honesty. There was a deal I passed on—even though I liked the business—because I felt the founder was more focused on building her brand than the actual company. I can’t give my money to someone whose priorities don’t align with mine. Motivation matters.
I once asked a founder, “What would it take to get this to $500K monthly revenue?” He looked at me and said, “That’s blood money.” That’s when I knew we weren’t aligned. If you think $500K a month is too much, I’m thinking $100M a year. That’s a misalignment.
Domain expertise, integrity, and alignment on growth vision. Those three are key. Valuation can be fixed. But those things are non-negotiable.
In your experience, what do first-time angels often get wrong?
Valuation. They almost always get it wrong. Don’t try to value a pre-seed business—it’s too early. Use a convertible note. That gives you some control, and you get to ride the upside without getting stuck on equity too early.
Many angels also follow hype. If AI is trending, everyone starts chasing API startups—whether they understand the business or not. That’s dangerous.
Also, never overpay. YC caps its pre-seed deals at around $2 million. I wouldn’t go higher than that as an angel. If you go too high, downstream investors will squeeze you out anyway through ESOPs or new equity rounds. So use a convertible note, get in at a low cap, and ignore the hype.
If you could design the ideal African VC ecosystem from scratch, what three pillars would you build it on?
Integrity and transparency—from both founders and investors. If you break that trust, you’re out. There should be no second chances if you misappropriate investor money.
Accountability and consequences. You only get one strike. I’ve seen founders waste investor money, then show up rebranded, raise more, and pretend nothing happened. That shouldn’t be allowed.
Price discipline and liquidity. No more $100M valuations just because. Our biggest local acquirers—banks and telcos—won’t pay that. They’ll pay $20M max, usually in cash and stock. So let’s start from that reality.
We should start valuing startups based on EBITDA and profit after tax, not GMV or projections, because that’s what guarantees liquidity, and liquidity is what keeps this whole system alive.
