The Leap: Why I Quit My Job
How I saved for a year, packed up my life in London, and boarded a flight to Kenya
If you’ve been following this Substack, you know I’ve been writing about my journey into HiFi audio—falling in love with sound quality, discovering speakers that made music feel three-dimensional, and chasing clarity through stillness.
In many ways, it was the early signal that I was craving more—more presence, more curiosity, more control over my time.
And that signal eventually became a decision:
I left my job with no backup, just savings, a loose plan, and a need to rebuild from the ground up.
This is the first post in a new series I’m calling The Leap—an open journal about walking away from structure, travelling through Kenya, Uganda, and Jamaica, and figuring out what comes next.
The Thought That Wouldn’t Leave
For years, the idea of quitting lingered in the background.
It started quietly, thoughts that showed up between meetings, on walks, during holidays when I finally felt like myself again.
At my job, I’d grown a lot, technically and as a leader but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was meant to be building something I believed in. Something that felt like mine.
I didn’t have a product yet. Or a cofounder. But I had the belief that if I gave myself space, I’d find it. And that was enough to get serious about planning my exit.
And so I began saving intentionally.
Saving for the Unknown
Roughly two years before I left, I got serious about saving. I tracked my monthly spending and created a budget that assumed I’d still be paying rent and living as comfortably as I had been. I didn’t want my freedom to feel like scarcity.
My goal was at least twelve months of runway. Not just survival money, but a realistic budget for travel, creativity, and exploration without needing to earn right away.
Priming Nigerian Parents: A Masterclass in Messaging
You can’t just tell Nigerian parents you’re quitting your job “to find yourself.”
So I eased them into it.
Talked about burnout. Framed it as a strategic break. Highlighted my financial plan. Introduced the idea of starting something new.
They didn’t fully understand the decision, but they saw that I had a plan. And they trusted me enough to let me try.
Packing the Pause
Breaking my tenancy was the turning point.
I ended the lease, stopped paying rent, and boxed up my life.
That’s when it hit me: I had so much stuff.
Boxes of tech, clothes, random things hadn’t touched in years. It was physical proof of how much I’d been carrying.
Friends helped. Some things went into storage.
My Raspberry Pi Kubernetes cluster stayed with my friend Tofunmi, another person who gave me a soft place to land during the transition.
And my KEF LSX speakers? They’re with Andrew, the one who first introduced me to HiFi.
The Plan (Loosely Speaking)
This wasn’t a one-way trip.
I planned to spend six weeks in Nairobi, timed around a friend’s wedding in Uganda—and my 30th birthday. I’d heard great things about the startup scene and wanted to experience it for myself.
After Kenya, the plan was Jamaica, another month away, this time hoping my naturalisation would be sorted by then. And then Paris for another friend’s wedding.
There were multiple anchors, but also space in between. Space to wander. To reset.
It wasn’t a perfect itinerary. But it was enough to move forward.
This Series: What to Expect
This post kicks off a new thread on this Substack.
The Leap is about:
What it means to leave a stable path
Resting with intention
Startup exploration in East Africa and the Caribbean
Life between airports, weddings, and weird WiFi
The people who soften your landing
And the rediscovery that happens in the pause
Thanks for being here.