Why I Am No longer On LinkedIn
In 2016, I stumbled into what would become a defining chapter of my professional life through an unconventional door: crowdfunding. At the time bro, the concept was novel enough to raise eyebrows, and the startups seeking funding were considered high-risk at best, delusional at worst. I kept my activities private—partly out of prudence, but mostly because I knew the scepticism I’d face would have deterred me. Looking back, this might say more about how I was living through the eyes of others, but the fact remains—secrecy shaped my early investment philosophy in ways I couldn't have predicted.
By 2021 - Aside from the single exit, Nutmeg, a few 2X returners and an illiquid Revolut, everything else was written down to zero. What bothered me most was all the losses came from businesses and sectors that I understood well. It was frustrating that I couldn’t help. I couldn’t afford to invest directly in any meaningful way as I only had $50,000 liquid. Like most, I followed the traditional wisdom of angel investing in the ‘80s to ‘90s, which held firmly to the 1-in-10 theory: for every ten investments, expect one success, two partial returns, and seven complete losses. With $50,000 in capital and typical minimum tickets of $10,000, the numbers were not adding up in my favour. Five investments against odds demanding ten felt like a fool’s errand. As the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention—though in my case, it led to a deep dive into research..
The saying also goes - Google is your friend, a friend that lead me to discover angel networks and syndicates. These structures revolutionised my approach: instead of five $10,000 bets, I could make forty-eight $1,000 investments (the remaining $3,000 covering syndicate membership fees). This strategy not only spread risk but opened doors to communities that would prove invaluable.
The London angel investing ecosystem, mature and sophisticated, welcomed this approach. I joined several networks directly and a the few that I could not, indirectly through topping up an existing members capital—specifically, a member of the prestigious Cambridge Angels. These communities offered more than just deal flow—they provided education, validation, and, most importantly, a platform to add value beyond capital. My corporate experience and network suddenly had new purpose, helping founders navigate challenges I had seen before.
This distributed, low-profile approach to investing shaped my professional identity in unexpected ways. You won’t find my name on Crunchbase, Pitchbook or fundraising announcements, but the results spoke for themselves. Exits materialised. My quality of life quietly exceeded what my salary suggested. At dinner parties, I became something of an enigma—the man who could call CEOs of trending startups for inside information, who dressed in black tie and ordered martinis (shaken, not stirred, naturally). The mystique was intoxicating, but more importantly, it kept me focused on what mattered: building great businesses.
The Japanese concept of "mokuteki"—having purpose and intentionality without drawing attention to it—resonated deeply with my approach. Similarly, ancient Chinese philosophy speaks of the sage who "acts without recognition, works without taking credit." These weren’t just philosophical ideals; they were practical principles that guided my investing. Humility wasn’t about diminishing myself but about being secure enough in my worth that external validation became unnecessary.
Then, in 2024, came the decision to expand into Cape Town. The contrast between London and Cape Town’s startup ecosystems was stark. In London, my private approach had been a choice. In Cape Town, it became a liability.
The emerging market demanded different signals of credibility. Where London valued track record and quiet competence, Cape Town’s younger ecosystem needed visible proof of capability.
Start-ups would sit across from me, nodding politely at insights that had proved valuable in Europe, before deferring decisions until they could speak with "more established" investors. The same GPs who would eagerly wine and dine you in London, didn’t in Cape Town—not because I wasn't a serious LP, but because I wasn't a familiar one. While my peers attended private lunches and investor-exclusive events, I was relegated to emails and Zooms.
One incident crystallised the challenge: I bumped into a GP hosting a beautiful LP event—one that, on paper, was meant for investors exactly like me. I hadn't been invited. Somehow, the same GP had no trouble finding my address when sending LPAs for signature. Even the physical infrastructure of the venture ecosystem seemed unsure about me; office buildings dedicated to startup activities placed me on waiting lists, while my more visible peers walked right in.
The solution seemed clear: join LinkedIn.
Initially, the platform delivered exactly what it promised. The invisible became visible. Connections formed. Deal flow increased. Serendipitous meetings materialised. The ecosystem began to open up. Then I made three decisions that would reveal the platform's true nature—and the fundamental differences between emerging and established markets.
First, I posted: "Send pitch decks, this will be the easiest $25K that you could raise." The response was illuminating. In London, such an announcement might have attracted carefully curated opportunities. In Cape Town, it opened floodgates of unprepared founders, many without even basic documentation - chancers! The quality gap wasn't just about experience—it reflected fundamental differences in ecosystem maturity.
The second experiment was announcing my interest in backing emerging managers with first funds. If regular VC deal flow was challenging, LP deal flow was eye-opening. The approaches revealed why institutional capital remains conservative in emerging markets: no clear thesis, perpetual fundraising modes, identical pitches to the same LP circles, and expectations of major commitments after minimal interaction. I now understand why the majority of capital flows to the same VC firms.
The third mistake was publicly committing to respond to every message and email. What started as professional courtesy became an endless task. Modern founder hustle culture preaches persistence, but the interpretation varied dramatically between markets. In London, persistence meant thoughtful follow-ups with new information. In Cape Town, it sometimes meant refusing to accept any answer that wasn't "yes."
My behaviour began to change. Occasional posts became regular. The satisfaction of engagement became addictive. When LinkedIn restricted my account due to VPN usage during travel, the withdrawal was immediate and telling. My screen time revealed an uncomfortable truth: an hour daily, seven days a week, scrolling through LinkedIn.
Yet, it was the nature of connections that truly made me question everything. I asked someone to introduce me to one of their LinkedIn connections, only to discover they though they were connections they didn’t know one another and nor had they ever spoken. This wasn't unique to emerging markets—it was a platform-wide phenomenon. We were all collecting connections like trading cards, operating under the vague assumption that shared networks meant something.
The experience taught me crucial lessons about investing across different ecosystems:
Visibility is contextual. In established markets like London, credibility can be built through results and private networks. In emerging markets like Cape Town, visibility often precedes opportunity. Neither approach is inherently superior—they're tools for different environments.
The "connections" paradox. Real relationships don’t scale. Whether in London or Cape Town, meaningful professional relationships require intentional cultivation. LinkedIn's greatest danger is confusing connection quantity with relationship quality.
Market-appropriate communication. Cold outreach needs to adapt to market context. What works in mature markets often fails in emerging ones, and vice versa. Understanding these differences is crucial for both founders and investors.
The balance of public and private. Success in any market requires finding the right balance between visibility and substance. In emerging markets, some public presence might be necessary, but it shouldn't come at the expense of real value creation.
Cross-market value creation. The real work of building great companies happens offline, regardless of market. Online platforms should facilitate, not replace, genuine relationship building.
For those considering angel investing, especially across different markets, here’s my advice:
Start small and learn the ecosystem's unwritten rules.
Build genuine relationships before you need them.
Understand that different markets require different approaches.
Focus on adding value beyond capital.
Remember that visibility is a tool, not an end goal.
The journey from London to Cape Town taught me that there's no universal playbook for angel investing. What works in one market might fail in another. A good founder in London, often doesn’t resemble a good founder in Johannesburg. The key is remaining adaptable while staying true to your core principle: building great businesses.
LinkedIn has graciously allowed me to reactivate my account, but I won’t be doing so because it no longer serves my goals. However, I am not returning to complete invisibility. Instead, I am seeking a middle ground—visible enough to access opportunities, private enough to focus on what matters. For those walking a similar path, remember: the goal isn’t to be seen by everyone, but to be visible to the right people in the right way.
If you’re a founder that has made it to the bottom of this piece; here is my email address: tendai@tendaishamu.com. I cannot promise that I will respond, but I can promise that I will diligently assess your deck.
To those who know me, or have only recently met me, my details remain unchanged. Let’s have phone calls, let’s meet in person more often, and please send me detailed emails about life and what you are working on. I would much rather engage in meaningful conversations than simply ‘like’ or ‘comment’ on a post :)