Benjamin Fernandes is Building for the Next Billion

Canary Wharf is one of the leading financial districts in London, with some of the world’s biggest banks sprawled across the popular Bank Street. NALA’s UK office sits at the centre of all that action, and is where the CEO, Benjamin Fernandes, spends a lot of his time. 

It’s been a few months since NALA raised $40 million to build payment rails for the next billion – a rare feat and one of the largest Series A deals in Africa. Benjamin leads a team of 160 employees across twenty-five countries, with offices in London, Amsterdam, and Nairobi, and ambitious plans to expand into Asia and Latin America. 

I joined him in a conference room in his office to dig into his startup’s evolution and how his faith and discipline have shaped NALA into the company it is today. 

“How long did the $40 million raise take?” I asked. 

“It took a shorter time because we were profitable, but we had a lot of rejections. We were prepared for how difficult raising a round usually is, but when I sent the email out telling our investors we were profitable, it was my most responded-to email.” He said in amusement.

“What was the subject of the email?” I asked him. “I think it said the revenue amount and that we were profitable. This was either our January/February investor update, and a bunch of our investors reached out to me saying – hey, let’s chat about the next round”. 

The round was oversubscribed and announced in July of the same year. Africa’s funding climate has witnessed an uptick in recent times with capital deployment. Still, African founders face a painful battle and between 12-18 months trying to raise money. 

NALA achieved that in half the time and with one of the highest figures in Series A, which signals that the startup has shown progress with the potential to scale and generate revenue.  

“Being profitable helped our raise,” Benjamin concluded. The industry, particularly in the frothy days of 2021, had been more focused on valuations and liquidity events than profitability. “We also had an insane valuation in 2021,” he admitted, anchoring the timeline. “From Q1 2022 till the last raise, we hadn’t raised any additional capital.”

“I told the team, look, if we can be capital efficient and generate more revenue than the amount of money we raised, we’re going to have no problem raising cash if we need it later.” The statement was quite obvious, but in reality, VCs optimise for quick capital and routinely ask founders about the timeline for their next raise. “I’m a firm believer that I don’t want us to be fully reliant on VC cash. If we’re not generating profit, it doesn’t make any sense.”

Walk into any startups across the world and you’ll find a whiteboard somewhere, with markers detailing wildly ambitious expansions, product launches, or recruitment. 

Benjamin shared that NALA does things differently. 

“What kind of things are you pushing back on?” I asked, picturing this same whiteboard in NALA’s office with geographic expansions, bearing the decisive, elegant slash of Benjamin’s “no.”

“Expansion markets, for example,” he offered, confirming my mental image. “Sure, we want to be in all of Africa. Is it realistic to be there across 54 countries? Probably not. Will we ever be in 54 countries? Probably not.”

The sheer scale of Africa means that boundless ambition must collide with reality. “Presidents of African countries randomly reach out and say, hey, we want you to come set up in our country, but it’s a small country, and we can’t set up there. This has happened a few times.”

Receiving an invitation from a President has to be an irresistible ego boost, but for Benjamin, it triggered a different reality. “That’s significant leverage,” he acknowledged. “But when you look at the economics of that market. Even if you had 100% market share, is it worth it?” He asked me. “Do you want 100% of a grape or 20% of watermelon?” He asked. “Most of the time, the answer is no.”

The conversation shifted from corporate strategy to spirituality. “The most important thing to me in life,” Benjamin began, “if you looked at everything statistically on paper, I would never be here. There would be no NALA.” He reflected on a life built on discipline. “The chances of all this happening is 0.00001%.”

“I know and I recognise that with privilege comes responsibility,” he stated, echoing a Biblical principle. “To whom much is given, much is required. It’s a large responsibility and comes with high pressure.”

“So for me, when times are tough, the first thing I’m doing is praying. When I walk to work, I’m praying. My friends ask, ‘Oh, can I call you?’ I’m like, ‘No, that morning time is my time.’” 

In the ceaseless demands of startup life, Benjamin carves out a non-negotiable personal ritual for mental and spiritual grounding. “Just meditating, praying, and asking God to give me wisdom and strength every day. There are 500 decisions you have to make.”

He brought it back to the business. “The cost of the decisions, the bigger the company gets, the more expensive and dangerous it becomes. That creates a new type of pressure on you as a CEO because now you’re responsible for people’s livelihoods. Hundreds of thousands of people are sending money with you.”

“My mom, my dad never forced me to be a Christian. Your faith is your own choice,” he shared. “But for me, even despite all the travels, I never miss church on Sunday. No matter where I am in the world. I’ve been to church in Senegal where I speak no English, and sit there. I’ve been to church in Italy where there’s no English. Being in the presence of God is important to me and my mental sanity. Every founder has one or two things that’s their outlet. For me, it’s faith.”

“And then, therapeutically, I like to go see football games.”

“That’s an expensive habit,” I chuckled.

“I joke around with my friends about that because I don’t drink. All my friends, especially in England, drink. I say, ‘Look, your two nights of drinking is one game for me a month.’” A pragmatic justification for his beloved pastime.

“I always say, let your discipline match your ambition,” Benjamin shared his mantra. “My mom always tells me, if you don’t take responsibility, you take orders. If you don’t take responsibility for your business, your board will soon start telling you what to do. That’s a principle of life.”

“Discipline was forced on me in high school. I was a very naughty kid. I hold the record for the most suspensions and time in the principal’s office,” he admitted with a wry smile. “Going to America, I was given a 3-month probation. If you do well, you stay. If not, you’re out.” His dad gave him one month. “I knew I had to change. I knew I had to be disciplined, and it wasn’t a choice ’cause my dad told me if I didn’t do well, he’s going to send me to some village farm.”

The mental image of a teenage Benjamin, sweating over a hoe, was enough to motivate anyone.

“When I was pushed up against the wall, I said, ‘All right, cool, it’s grind time.’ I had to start saying no to many things. After my first semester, I got straight A’s. All four years, I made the Dean’s List for National Honours. Because I was given a second chance, I knew I had to be disciplined because millions of people never get that chance.”

His Stanford story was another example. “I studied for that GMAT for three and a half months. I’d wake up at 4:30 in the morning, study from 5:00 to 7:00, go to work, get home, study again until 9. Saturdays, I didn’t go out. On Sundays, I attended church, returned home, and studied. I knew the scores I needed. My friends would say, ‘Hey, let’s go to the beach, cinema, hang out.’ I said no to everything for three and a half months, but that earned me a full scholarship at Stanford. That was worth it.”

“The sacrifices you have to make as you’re building a company are hard. I’ve had to say no to so many things. I miss so many weddings, birthdays, and special moments for my friends. I feel bad about that. I’ll never get to see somebody’s wedding again.” 

The path to building a rapidly growing tech company is littered with missed moments. Benjamin feels the sting, but accepts it as the cost of his ambition.

“How long did it take to get to that moment when you finally turned a profit?” I asked. “The team worked hard. Working in NALA is not an easy place. I tell everybody before they get a job here, ‘Look, it’s not an easy place.’”

This transparency, combined with ambitious goals, acts as a filter. “We’re getting about 300 to 400 applicants for a role in London. The acceptance rate is low. We brought on people from every top fintech company in the UK: Revolut, Monzo, Wise.”

“Drake likes to say the result of hard work is more work. That’s true,” he mused. “You get profitable, and then what? Nice break for the team! Cool, well done. We’ll celebrate later.” 

His ambition has stretched far beyond current victories. “What’s your North Star for NALA? If you had a genie in a bottle, what would your wish be?” I asked.

“I want us to build a decacorn,” he said, a glint in his eye.

A decacorn is a startup with a valuation of $10 billion or more. “Unicorn for me is a baby.” He paused, “How do you build a massive global cross-border payment business, not just an African business, a global cross-border payment business that was born in Africa but built for the world? I want it to be my life’s work. NALA is bigger than me. I want it to be around for over 100 years past me. Like Coca-Cola is how I think about it. Success for me is that we enabled the world to trade more. Cheaper, faster, simpler. And with better software.” 

“That’s my North Star”.