October 28, 1990 was the wrong day to be in Monrovia, Liberia.
My family would have perished—as nameless casualties of a senseless war in a
foreign land—were it not for the intervention of a motley peacekeeping force
led by Ghana and Nigeria. To this day, that early brush with mortality reminds
me that I may yet owe death a life.
I was never a pan-African before that day—my mind teemed with tired tales from my father of Nkrumah's utopian vision. But capitalism could well succeed where decades of post-independence politics failed—in uniting a continent of promise and ushering it into the 21st century.
Africa's economic rise has set the stage for a transportation revolution—one I intend to help shape. I will build an airline that links the remotest parts of the continent, connecting its people and markets.
I learned the value of giving back early from my father, a self-taught teacher
who raised three PhDs. I want to be useful. To enable Africans to connect and
trade with one another. To unleash the energy of commerce.
And partake in the taming of a continent.