You can’t just be a genius, you have to sell it - Okiror

“STEMGENIUS,”he says. “Why not STEMG?” I challenge, watching his reaction. He chuckles, waving a dismissive hand. “Those are things we’ll figure out later. Branding is the easy part. The hard part? Making it work.”

“The start-up or the name?” “The start-up, obviously. If the service is good, the name doesn’t matter. Did Meta always exist? No. The product is what matters. People stick to solutions, not names.”

“STEMGENIUS accelerates science learning across Africa, with interactive experiments, coding, and robotics. Children love it.” “Like what kind of experiments?”I ask. “Take the Magic Balloon experiment. We teach carbon dioxide with baking soda and vinegar—boom! The gas inflates the balloon, and children learn chemistry without realising it.”

I nod, imagining wide-eyed children watching science happen in real time instead of just reading about it in text books. We want science to be fun, not a chore. Children should fall in love with it early,” he says.

STEM is the golden ticket in global classrooms, the lifeblood of Silicon Valley, and the engine of tech economies. But why should Uganda, a country still finding its footing, care? Because in places like Uganda, STEM is the secret weapon, not just a passing trend.

It is the spark that could turn a simple idea—like an app to streamline healthcare or a renewable energy solution— into a game-changing revolution. Think mobile money in Kenya or solar-powered fridges in rural Africa; that’s the kind of magic STEM can create.

“It’s about application,” he says. “We have engineers, scientists. But where are the solutions?” His frustration is clear. Africa, with its young population, should be brimming with innovation. Instead, research sits on university shelves, unpublished or uncommercialised. “We need to teach children from the start that science isn’t just about understanding concepts. It’s about solving problems,” he says.

“That’s where design thinking comes in. How does coding apply to real-world issues? How does engineering fix what’s broken?” He gestures toward his surroundings the hotel, the city skyline, the very electricity powering our conversation.

“Everything around you? That’s STEM. The bulb above us, your phone, the bullet train in Japan—all STEM.”

I nod, absorbing the weight of his words. The conversation turns global. “The US is trying to rebuild its technical talent because they rely so much on foreign experts. India and Nigeria are supplying them with some of the best minds in tech. China? They are winning because they invest in STEM early. Their children grow up thinking in science.”

And Africa?

“We have the youngest population in the world. If we invest in quality STEM education, we won’t just be consumers of technology. We’ll be the creators.”

So I ask him what it is like to teach stuff like this and he demonstrates. “It’s like building a wheel and axle— cardboard, measurements; the basics. When you teach children, they’re measuring, cutting, and creating. You show them that one part is 5cm, another’s 10, and they’ve got to figure it out with a ruler. That’s how they grasp what measurements really mean. Even coding is the same. We start with scratch, then ease into Python, and before you know it, we’re diving into full-stack development like the pros. But you don’t just throw them into it—children start small, learn the X and Y axis, and soon, they are programming objects to move across coordinates. It is math and coding all in one, and the best part? They actually get it.”

Start-ups hurdles

But let’s talk about the reality of start-ups—it's like climbing a mountain without a map. A friend of mine said you need to be ‘mad’ to launch a start-up. And honestly? Okiror agrees. “I thought I was going into a board school but ended up in deep waters. Why? Innovation is messy. People don’t like change. When challenging an old system, you must convince people you’re not tearing it down, just improving it. But convincing them? That’s the hard part. Policymakers and schools?

They’re the ecosystem. And yes, they are key—but they’re also the ones still stuck in the past. You need to get them to see that your solution isn’t a threat; it’s the future,” he narrates. This ideally means if you’re an innovator, your job is simple: create something that works, like medicine for the sick. Make sure your product hits the pain point so hard that no one can say no. The government? They’ll follow when they see it works. But getting there? That’s the real battle. It’s like trying to get into a VIP party where everyone’s already in the door.

If you don’t know the right people, good luck. And as for ed-tech in Uganda? It is slow. And not just here—globally. There are so many moving parts: stakeholders, infrastructure and the whole shebang. “Even the US struggles. But if we can break through the noise, we might just revolutionise the classroom. Or, at least, teach a child how to move a cartoon cutout across a screen,”Okiror says.

A dark education system

Education faces a hurdle: government involvement, according to a plethora of innovators in this system. With many schools controlled by the government, deploying a solution requires patience. Investors want quick returns, but education doesn’t work on a fast track. Unlike fintech where users are ready to jump in, education needs time, infrastructure, and a lot of stakeholders. Private, international, government schools—each with its way.

Then there’s electricity, or rather, the lack of it. No power, no devices, no learning. Some have tried text-based learning, but honestly, how can you learn something through a text message? No simulations, no interactive content—just static.

And the problem with tech? Not everyone has access to it. Even if you have a phone, no power or expensive data makes it impossible for most to learn. And the connectivity? Don’t get me started. It’s still shaky at best. But there’s a silver lining. Education technology has the potential to transform the system, Okiror says. Africa has 98 million children out of school for reasons ranging from disability to poverty, the United Nations data shows. Now, imagine if digital learning could reach them.

No need for expensive school fees—just access to learning at home. And math? The World Bank recently reported that nine out of 10 children in Africa don’t have basic math skills by age 10. Why? Crowded classrooms, outdated resources, and a shortage of teachers.

“Tech could change that—if each student has their own device, teachers can see where each student struggles and tailor their approach. But for that to happen, we need a tech solution that’s affordable and scalable,” Okiror explains. And here’s the kicker: infrastructure is a major challenge.

My trip to Kampala Diplomatic School last year showed how even the youngest innovators struggle with limited materials. Robotics education relies on imported electronics, often from China. And because those components are imported, the cost skyrockets. And that’s where the tech people put their prayers to the government to help lower taxes on imports or, better yet, by setting up factories. here. But that requires talent, investment, and a business model that can scale. So, what’s the solution? Well, the government can play a huge role in policy.

Subsidise the imports or set up local production plants. But until we see those policies in action, it is tough to make progress. The road ahead is long—but it’s not impossible. Sitting across from Okiror in the polished lobby of Mestil Hotel, I couldn't help but notice the contrast. The city’s skyline, all shiny skyscrapers and swanky neighbourhoods, stretched behind him but isn’t looking at the view. His mind is lost in Africa's educational maze. But as he speaks, his eyes light up with determination. "Imagine trying to deploy a solution in the education sector,” he begins, his voice steady but laden with frustration.

"You’ve got the government-involved schools owned by them, slow processes, bureaucratic red tape. It’s like trying to get a fast pass at Disneyland, except the line never ends. Investors want quick returns but in education? You wait for- ever." He leans back slightly, arms crossed, as though he is assessing the puzzle of Africa’s education system, with its many moving parts. He aims to educate 100 million children across Africa in the next five to 10 years.“It’s not a pipe dream. We can do this." I can't help but be impressed by his unwavering commitment.

"But what separates the truly successful?” I ask.

“Take Elon Musk. He’s not just brilliant. He’s got the business mind, too. Same with Steve Jobs, and Mark Zuckerberg. They’re engineers, sure, but they know how to apply knowledge to make money. You can’t just be a genius— you have to sell it. The best engineers I know can break down complex problems, but they can’t implement them. They get stuck." I nod vigorously.

"Elon Musk? He knows how to build a business. You need that mindset. A lot of engineers don’t get that—they can’t monetise their ideas. You have to sell it, even if you get rejected a thousand times. The best ones keep going, and that’s what makes them successful." I raise my eyebrows. "So, it's not just about having the idea?" "Exactly," Okiror says, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You don’t need to be the smartest, just the most resilient. The top one percent are always solving problems. They anticipate issues before they even arise." He leans forward again, speaking with urgency. "In a start-up, even if you apply to Y Combinator [a Start-up accelerator company] as a solo founder, chances are they’ll encourage you to find a co-founder.

Why? Because having a co-founder increases your chances of success. Building a start-up is painful, and you can’t do it alone. You need someone who believes in you and can help shoulder the pressure. Without that, it’s tough."