Solomon King

Author: skAdmin

  • Turning 37 – A Reflection on Purpose (and a tiny announcement)

    Turning 37 – A Reflection on Purpose (and a tiny announcement)

     

    It takes a very, very long time to truly become yourself.

    I heard this somewhere… I think from Dave Chapelle or Miles Davis, I’m not sure. But it stayed with me, and I have thought about it a lot. And today, as I turn one year older, it’s led me to a lot of reflections on this complex life I’ve had.

    [Sometimes, the weariness of it all makes me feel like I’ve lived a hundred years].

    For many years, I struggled to be someone else. I aspired to be like many of my heroes, the ones I idolized, some with their genius, their grit and their passion for changing the world. Others with their hubris and egos that ultimately led to their downfall.

    I read all the books there were to read, and I watched videos and series and business reality shows endlessly. I tried lots of things and failed at almost all of them. Some worked, some were shelved and others took on a life of their own.

    But then, over time, I realized that I had become… me. And for the first time, I was proud of who I was.

    I think it was the intentionality of learning from the past. The deep reflection on what went wrong, what could have been done better and what definitely needed to go. It forced me to constantly self-evaluate and reflect on the choices and decisions. I learned to map the inflexion points where the failure started and ensure it shouldn’t happen again.

    But I still struggled with purpose. I knew what I wanted to do, what I wanted to achieve, but there was still this emptiness. An emptiness that echoed in my very being; a deep, resounding question that wouldn’t go away.

    “BUT WHY?”, the emptiness asked.

    And one day, it hit me: I wanted to achieve all these things because at the end of the day, all I wanted was to help people live better lives. I wanted money so I could pay fees for someone or help someone else start a business or build a school or hospital for a community. And I still struggle justifying my own personal financial growth/gain versus the needs of humanity as a whole (in as much as I can impact a small fraction of humanity). It is a weakness that I have a love-hate relationship with.

    They say becoming a millionaire is less about earning a million dollars, and more about the person you become along that journey. My journey has morphed from the pursuit of just money, to the pursuit of a better world for our children and their children’s children.

    But I’ve also found that my deeper passion is helping other people achieve their goals, and watching their dreams come to life. It’s in building communities, raising people and creating solutions that move humanity forward.

    Is it uselessly altruistic? Maybe. Will I succeed? Maybe. Am I the right people? Who knows. I am hopelessly and irrevocably flawed and failure is something I’ve made peace with. Fear will always be with us. Humanity is flawed, and the world is chaos.

    We make plans, we have dreams and we justify our decisions and our actions with the stubborn subjectivity and selfishness that only humans are capable of.

    But what matters more than anything else is that we move forward, together, and that we strive to create a world that has empathy, equity and respect for everyone, regardless of who they are, where they come from and what they look like.

    So yeah, here we are, a year older. Questionably wiser. And about to take a daft step.

    So, my biggest challenge to myself is to go extreme, to step so far outside my comfort zone that the mere thought of the thing I want to do still sends panic down my spine. But, here we go:

    I’m starting a YouTube Channel.

    I, Solomon King, introvert, hater-of-photos, refuser-of-interviews, selfie-snob, stammerer and God-knows-what else… am starting a YouTube Channel.

    I know all you extroverts are rolling your eyes, but just typing this is giving me anxiety. 🤣 But, we move.

    You can subscribe here https://youtube.com/c/SolomonKing

    Right now, there’s nothing there, just a few random audio tracks I made last year.

    What’s going to be on that channel? A little craziness, but mostly genuine, honest discussions with people about life, business, failure and the struggle for success. Raw, down-to-earth and personal conversations. Like talking to your father when he’s had too much whiskey.

    We’ll talk about the tough things, the long journeys, the truth about what it actually means to make it (or to fail). Generally, we’ll discuss the side of life that people gloss over or hide in their attempts to paint perfect lives of unceasing success.

    What won’t be there? Random stories of how “I started a business with two pineapples and now I own half of Kampala”. We’ll talk to people like you are I who are thriving, hustling, or figuring out what went wrong.

    Basically, “omuntu wa wansi” trying to make the world better.

    It takes a very, very long time to truly become yourself.

    Maybe, in my own way, I can use my network, connections and experiences to help people out there discover their true selves and finally become who are meant to be.

    If not, we shall fail together.

    Onwards and upwards!

  • To every fresh graduate (and student) asking “What’s Next?”

    To every fresh graduate (and student) asking “What’s Next?”

    To every fresh graduate (and student) asking “What’s Next?”, here’s the no-bullshit response.

    0. Your Health. Everything you dream of is meaningless if you’re unhealthy or dead.

    You’re at your peak right now, so eat well, drink moderately, and practise fitness. Your body will thank you decades from now.

    1. Work. It’s time for the real grind. The world will only reward you for the effort you put in. At this stage, you’ll only be exchanging your time for money. That’s it.

    If you’re like the average Ugandan university student, there’s a high chance you don’t have any skills worth employing. Your employer is going to spend a lot of time teaching and re-skilling you. Don’t take that lightly.

    Work hard every day. Understand the job, understand the company, understand the industry.

    Then start working smart.

    2. Wake up. Dress up. Show up. Step up.

    I don’t care whether it’s your own hustle, a job, a family business, etc., always show up, always step up and always push forward.

    Whatever you choose to do today, do it to the best of your ability. Nothing hurts (and sucks) like the regret you’ll have many years down the road.

    3. Learn. A lot of tough very life lessons are coming your way. Learn from them. Grow from them.

    Learn skills aggressively. You need to build your skills to begin earning more, either through higher pay or diversified income. You have to study and practise more than you ever studied at school.

    4. Toughen up. The world of work is pure chaos; there is hurt, and there is pain. There are people who will drive you insane. And the places and people that were your refuge will disappear and you’ll be on your own.

    You will have amazing days, and you’ll have really, really bad days. Wade through the storm, and remember that the storm never goes away. It only becomes easier because you become stronger.

    5. Be patient. True legitimate success takes time. The things you’re dreaming about now will not arrive for the next 5-10 years. But if you’re intentional about continuous growth, build your skills, and work diligently and patiently, you will be successful.

    Remember, it takes 10 years to become an overnight success. The people you’re admiring now hustled longer and harder than you can imagine.

    6. Master money. Learn how to save from Day One. Save 20% of EVERY SINGLE payment you get, without compromise. Learn how to live on the 80% left over and gradually increase the percentages you save.

    Master this one discipline.

    This is a deep personal regret for me. But let’s just say realizing how broke you are at 30 slaps different.

    Save. Save. Save. You’ll be surprised at how much you’ll have in 10 years.

    7. Understand Time. It’s said that most people overestimate what we can do in 1 year and underestimate what they can do in 10 years.

    Pace yourself, look at the big picture, break down your goals into 10-year, 5-year, 2-year, annual, and monthly (manageable) goals and you’ll be unstoppable.

    8. Focus on you. Stop comparing yourself to Celebrity X or Influencer Y. While you’re wishful thinking, they’re grinding. Some of these celebrities work harder in 1 day than you’ll wish to work in 1 month.

    Focus on you, grow into yourself, let Future You become your hero.

    9. Compound Interest. Learn it, understand it, master it, leverage it and you’ll discover a (slow) but extremely effective roadmap to wealth in your later years.

    Also, compound interest comes with Patience (point 5) and Money Mastery (point 6). These three are inseparable.

    10. There’s no quick money. Don’t chase instant wealth dreams. You know the ones I’m talking about: “There’s a ka deal here.” “If you buy X and convince five friends to buy X and they also…”

    Those roads only lead to heartbreak, lost money, broken families and destroyed friendships.

    Be patient, be consistent, and be intentional.

    11. For the love of Batman, please learn to write well, spell well and have proper grammar.

    Communicating well and professionally is a skill we take for granted, but one that impacts us more than we realize. Your writing is almost always the first interaction people will have with you, and you know what they say about first impressions.

    12. Hang on to what’s important.

    In all of this, don’t forget to make time for friends and family.

    The older you get, the more friendships die or fade away and making new friends becomes harder each year.

    Spend time with family, you will start losing them – it is inevitable – and regret is a bitch.

    13. Enjoy life.

    It’s not all about money or wealth. Find your purpose, be kind to others, practise empathy and above all, take the time to stop and be thankful.

  • Life Lessons From A Failed and Abandoned Project

    Life Lessons From A Failed and Abandoned Project

    Somewhere between 2004 and 2006, I obsessed night and day over a product I was building called “Pathfinder”.

    Pathfinder was this insanely ambitious plan to digitize and map Uganda, primarily for tourism and business purposes. The big, hairy audacious goal was to put GPS trackers on boda-bodas and set them loose for weeks, collect the data and plug it into this gorgeous mapping system I had built.

    It was as ambitious as it was ridiculous. And I was building it in Macromedia Flash (the original before Adobe bought it), and I was a Flash and design guru so of course, it was really, really pretty.

    Because I was — and still am, to an extent — a perfectionist, the thing I was obsessing the most over was how cool and gorgeous and interactive and visually appealing it needed to be.

    I was haunted by the little details, like making sure all the pixels were aligned well, the animations were breath-taking and making sure the zoom functionality worked flawlessly with pixel-perfect precision.

    At some point, the code became a little too much for me to handle on my own so I tried recruiting people to help build it. But I didn’t have the money to pay them, so I continued tinkering away.

    Because of my design background, I knew the packaging was going to be the best ever and the product launch would be phenomenal.

    The product itself was going to be my magnum opus. It would be this gorgeous, interactive CD that would have 360-degree tours, powered by Quicktime Virtual Reality.

    Just imagine standing in the city square and rotating the view to look around you, then clicking a building and jumping to the next location.

    Or standing in the middle of a game-park and exploring everything around you, with little pop-up icons of data for animal information, tourist spots, etc.

    I kept a detailed log of everything, and I’m sure both the notebook and project file CDs are still accessible somewhere in my storage boxes.

    Anyway, eventually, the demo was ready and I started trying to get people to invest in the idea.

    Because I thought the idea was very cool, I assumed everyone would be interested in investing and making all of the money. All of the tourism and advertising dollars I was dreaming of.

    I went to pitch after pitch and got turned down meeting after meeting. This was back when there were no VCs in Uganda and the only investment dollars you could find were from local businessmen whose idea of a good investment is a building they can touch.

    Eventually, I gave up and shelved the project. A year or so later, Google came into Uganda, launched Google Maps locally and the rest is history. They’ve basically mapped all the way to Mama Gundi’s joint with the nice katogo.

    To this day, I keep wondering if I could have sold the GPS data to Google, and for how much, if only I had started with whatever means I had.

    Granted, it was technically impossible for me to do anything because of the sheer financial and logistical challenge it would have required to roll out. Also, I was running Elemental Edge and payroll was a proper trick, so there wasn’t much time to goof around.

    But as I reflect on these moments in my business history, a few lessons come to mind.

    1. It is so much easier to start now that it was back then. Servers are cheaper, code is simpler, computers are more affordable and the internet is so ridiculously fast — and cheap — compared to back then.

    If there’s an idea that’s keeping you awake at night, chances are, you can start working on it today, right now without even quitting your day job.

    2. Move fast, break things, learn and keep improving. My obsession with visual perfection cost me. I am still a perfectionist, but I now like to practice what I call chaotic perfectionism.

    Essentially, you have the perfection-destination in mind, but you give yourself permission to build features, then come back and clean up the visuals. That way, the roll-out, testing and user feedback is faster and more useful. And you know what that leads to? Excellence, and continuous improvement, which are far more achievable targets than perfectionism.

    3. Your first product/version/project is going to suck like you wouldn’t believe. It will embarrass you, it will break at the worst possible time and you’ll want to die. But that’s okay. Keep moving, keep improving. You can only get better.

    4. Give yourself permission to fail. Nothing prevents us from getting started like the fear of failure.

    That ice-cold feeling of dread you get when you think of what could go wrong? That is holding you back more than you realize. Trust me, everything will go wrong. The world is chaos. Get over it, make peace with it and keep pushing forward.

    5. Bootstrap as much as you can, but when you get the opportunity for funding, take it quickly (with due diligence, obviously).

    6. Ship Ship Ship Ship. Put your product out there, let people diss it, stress it, break it, etc. It’s all feedback. Launch the rocket, watch it burst into flames, get the data, build a better rocket.

    7. Above all, keep your dreams alive. They could be more valuable than you think.

    Peace!

  • At The Corner of Sunrise and Yesterday – Part 1

    At The Corner of Sunrise and Yesterday – Part 1

     

    “Do you like it, Lydia? I bought it especially for you.”

    I’m pretty good with names and faces, but this lady was a stranger to me. She knew my name and had inquired, over the course of the afternoon, about my mother, and her declining health. That should have worried me, but for some strange reason, I was at peace in her presence.

    St. Andrew’s church was quiet today, as it normally is on week-days, and as I waited for my uncle to finish work inside, I had found myself on one of the benches in the church compound, staring far off into the distance. A lot of time had passed while I sat, and lost in my world, I hadn’t noticed the lady sitting next to me until she spoke.

    She’d introduced herself as Mrs Olara and mentioned that she was visiting a friend in town.

    “I… do.” The words came out falteringly, as they had all afternoon and all my life. It wasn’t a habit built out of caution – although the perception of caution had served me well over the years – but out of a simple desire to speak as little as possible.

    “I do. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

    “You’re most welcome, Lydia.” Her voice was kind, almost like she felt pity for me. Well, I didn’t care or want her pity. She wasn’t the first. And she would not be the last. The neighbours at home talked, and so did my friends at school. After a while, I stopped paying attention to the whispers and the hurried glances.

    “I got it from the little shop on Kivumbi Road. You know the one? It has the really nice books that you enjoyed reading. Do you still go there?”

    I nodded my head and smiled.

    Yeah. I knew the shop. A little too well, I must add. It was Mr Sempijja’s grocery store. Sunrise Supermarket, he called it, but we all knew it was just a big shop. We’d all seen proper supermarkets on the television.

    But I liked Sunrise Supermarket. And I especially liked Mr Sempijja; he had a small section in the back where he kept a few books – enough to browse through, but not enough diversity for the people, and so no one ever really bought them. But he kept the books anyway, and soon, added a small stool in the corner.

    Sometimes, his shop attendants sat there on slow days, waiting for customers. But every time I walked in, after browsing through the wares like all the other customers – past the UHT milk packets, through the collections of toilet paper (ranging from five hundred shillings to two thousand shillings) and then running my hands over the different types of toothpaste, I’d round the corner and the attendant sitting on the stool would smile sweetly and get up, as if to organize something, leaving the stool vacant.

    It was a game that we played every Saturday morning: they would pretend to do something so I would have the stool, and I would pretend to be shopping idly before slowly making my way to the back. We all knew and we all played along.

    Saturday mornings were perfect. For almost three hours, I lost myself in fantastic adventures, worlds beyond our little dusty town and heroes that came to save the day. I soared the skies in fighter planes during World War II, I climbed up magical beanstalks and fought one-eyed giants, I saved a princess in a tower and explored strange new planets.

    And when the local church bell finally chimed, I would get up from my reverie and make my way to the counter where Mr Sempijja stood, behind the till. Stretching up to reach the counter, I would place the Sugar Bom Bom I had picked as I left the corner and a one hundred shilling coin. Mr Sempijja would smile, peering over his reading glasses and wish me a lovely day, and I’d trot out into the bright midday sun, unwrapping my candy as I continued to imagine the little wolf adopted by the ranger that saved his life in a fierce battle.

    “Yes, I know the shop. And I still go there.” I smiled slowly and looked up at her. She smiled back.

    “I grew up here, you know. In Upper Quarters.” Her gaze was distant, and for a moment, it seemed like she was talking to herself. “Ahhh, we had such good times, Lydia. Do you remember playing in the construction site? All those places to hide! And then the Mbatudde boys with their catapults!”

    “You stayed in Upper Quarters?!” I couldn’t contain my excitement. “I stay there also! And the construction site is very near! Mummy says they’re going to start bringing big trucks soon.”

    We talked some more, and I felt strangely drawn to this lady who – as the time passed – became less and less of a stranger.

    I had unfurled the shawl she’d given me, and as we spoke and the afternoon got a little chilly, it had found its way onto my shoulders, and it felt like one of the hugs that my mother used to give me when I was younger.

    We sat, in silence, for a while, and watched the sisters going about their duties in the gardens.

    ***

    “Well, I have to go now. My time is up and the evening is getting long. It was a delightful pleasure meeting you, Lydia. You are a wonderful and very inspiring girl. Keep your chin up, and don’t let the world bring you down.” And with a wink and a swirl of her skirt, she walked off and disappeared behind the gate.

    At that precise moment, a voice rang out.

    “Lydia!”

    It was my uncle, walking towards me, adjusting the white thing on his neck as his black robe brushed the green grass. He had to stop a few times as a couple of people stopped to say hello. “Good evening Vicar.” “Good evening.” “God bless you, my child.” “Peace be upon you.” I could almost guess exactly what words he’d use for each person.

    ***

    We got into his car. He always made me sit in the front seat, and always insisted on reaching across the seat to fasten my seat-belt, and as always, without fail, his hands would linger slightly around my chest, as he made sure the belt was firmly in place.

    As he started the car, he asked me where I’d gotten the shawl from, and I mentioned that an old friend of mum’s had given it to me as a gift.

    “Really, that’s nice. Gifts for God’s children are a precious thing. What was her name?”

    “She said she was called Mrs Olara, uncle.”

    “Hmmm. I don’t remember a Mrs Olara amongst your mother’s friends.”

    I looked at him. He was frowning and had slowed down a little. He looked concerned and I was afraid I was going to get a severe punishment, but momentarily, his frown relaxed and he smiled.

    He reached across and patted my thigh, letting his hand rest there.

    “Gifts are good, my child. But don’t accept gifts from any stranger without telling me first. You know I have to take care of you since your mother is unwell. Okay?”

    I nodded and shifted my leg away, slightly. He squeezed a little, caressing slowly, and then returned his attention to the road.

    We drove along the dusty streets, past the fields where the boys played soccer and the girls sat around, watching, chewing grass stalks and talking to the boys that wandered over. Past the little girls with jerrycans on their heads, heading home from the water tap where fifty shillings would buy you a twenty-litre jerrycan of water. Past the…

    “Ahhh! We’re home.” His exclamation was as sudden as his braking, and the car came to a halt in front of our house.

    Quickly, I opened the door and started to move. I was happy to see my mother again.

    “Lydia, wait! I have to unbuckle your seat-belt.” Without waiting for my response, he reached across the car again…

    ***

    As the sound of the car faded away, I went into the bedroom to check on my mother.

    She looked more tired each day and she swallowed the medicine I gave her with increasing difficulty. All the doctors we’d gone to said the disease was a tough one and that treating it was complicated and very expensive. So after many months of going from hospital to hospital, we eventually went back home and waited. There was no more money, mummy had said.

    I sat by her side as we talked about the day. She didn’t remember anyone called Mrs Olara. But that was okay, these days, my mother didn’t remember much anyway.

    I lit the lamp as the night set in and adjusted her pillows so that she could be comfortable, then curled up on the bed next to her. In a few minutes, I knew I’d have to get up and prepare supper for the two of us, but for now, I just wanted to be here for a while. I covered both of us with the shawl from Mrs Olara and watched my mother’s face, her breathing ragged and shallow. I could almost hear her heart struggling.

    My mother was dying, and I was scared. I wished I could escape into one of the stories at Mr Sempijja’s store; at least in those stories, I knew the endings were happy. I felt a tear make its way down my cheek. With a corner of the shawl, I brushed it away.

    After a few minutes, she whispered, so faintly that I could barely hear the words.

    “The Vicar is a good man, Lydia. And he has promised to take care of you when I’m not here anymore.”

    “But I don’t want to stay with him, mummy.”

    “He is my brother, Lydia. And has the money to put you in school until you’re able to fend for yourself.”

    “But…”

    “I trust him, Lydia. More than anyone else.”

    I pulled myself closer to her and wrapped the shawl tighter around us. As the evening turned to night, I became a fierce gunslinger, riding fearless horses across the wild west, hunting outlaws and collecting my bounty, become a legend whose name drove fear into the hearts of all the bad guys.

     

    ***

    To Be Continued

     

    // © 2019 Solomon King

     

  • Muse

    Muse

    Muse, I’m stuck in this place between thought and written word. Where ideas and stories swarm endlessly, swirling and dancing around the edges of consciousness. Teasing me with their power and potency and showing a world of infinite possibility.

    And the voices, unceasing, relentless… They resound to the heavens, Muse. Over and over and over again they say:

    “Write. Write. So that what is thought might become manifest. So that what is simple idea might transit into the eternal.

    Write. That we may become known. And bring to life the lives we live in the shadows.

    Write.”

    But when I send out a quiet hand to grasp what should be, when I reach out into the murky depths to create and make real, I find nothing but the echoes of what was, and the lingering regret of creation unmade.

    “Write,” they whisper, still. “Free us from this void that binds us to oblivion.”

    But, Muse, these stories dance in the spaces between formlessness and blank page. And I try each day to nudge them gently onto the white, blinding stage where they might be seen by an audience that waits with bated breath. Even though that audience may be just you, Muse.

    This cursed cursor flickers. Bold, upright. On, off… On, off… like a cold unabating digital heartbeat relentlessly mocking me. Daring me. Inviting me. And at once, opposing me like the most dexterous of quilled swordsmen.

    Oh, Muse, what ill-omened fate is this that dooms us to this immortal dance?

    What trickery will you bring to this weary mind, that we might conjure the impossible? You have traversed far and wise, Muse. You have seen the dawn of creation itself and watched everything burn to ash.

    What stories shall we tell? What wonder awaits us, Muse?

    I am stuck in this place between thought. And written word.

    Come, Muse. Let the flames of creation burn bright.

     

    //

    © 2019 Solomon King