Ziwani’s new podcast series RISK tackles the practical realities of taking bold steps in business – reframing the conversation around taking gospel-inspired risks while being grounded in professional responsibility. In this episode host Kerryne Krause, seasoned entrepreneur and founder of Cryoslices, interviews Musyoki Muindi, co-founder of Enzi, an electric motorbike company in Kenya.
You can listen to the full episode here.
Boda boda drivers (last-mile transport drivers for people, packages and food) are essential to the Kenyan economy. “They’ve weaved themselves into how we live,” says Musyoki. “So, by extension, our customer is almost everyone in the country, as a user of boda boda services.”
Enzi’s mission is to give them a cleaner, cheaper, and quieter alternative to petrol motorbikes. But at first, riders didn’t buy it. “They had preset opinions – electric bikes can’t climb hills, can’t carry loads, don’t have the mileage,” he recalls. So, Enzi stayed in the trenches. Four design iterations. Endless community testing. “We told riders, ‘Take a bike, use it for two days, tell us what you think.’ People began to realise we weren’t just pushing a product – we were listening.”
That approach shaped everything. “Our commitment is that you will never not be able to move,” Musyoki says. “Whether it’s fuel or service, we want you to feel so supported that you actually take us for granted.” He tells of a rider whose e-bike was wrecked in an accident with a matatu (a minibus): “Within three hours of calling us, he was back on the road, earning money again. That’s what we’re about.”
Musyoki didn’t start out in business. For 17 years he worked with CMS (a mission organisation) across East Africa and in the US. He was the accountant – counting money, paying people, doing reports. “It was a journey of resetting how I thought about things,” he states. “I realised that being an accountant didn’t mean you had to work at a finance company. Keeping things in order enabled so many people to do their mission work well – it changed the way I saw money and ministry.”
Then came another reset. When he and his wife agreed to set up a CMS hub in America, visa delays left them homeless for months. “My wife was pregnant with our firstborn, and we had to move in with family, then friends. We literally lived a bit of a refugee life.” And when they finally got there, life didn’t get easier. “Our means were never adequate. We were constantly straining, living paycheque to paycheque. I think it’s because the idea of sending missionaries from Africa to America is a mindbender for most people. So, they don’t have a framework to think about costs.”
But the experience shaped them. “It made us more empathetic to others who might be struggling. We realised that sometimes life can be tough – not because people are lazy or made bad decisions, but because of circumstances beyond their control.”
It also reshaped his view of the Church. “I truly believe Africa can sort out its own problems. However, if we really are one body with people in other parts of the world, we have to do it together. It gets uncomfortable, it gets difficult, but the fact is that we best reflect the wholeness of Christ by doing the hard work of trying to be one.”
After two years, they returned to Kenya to help Dennis Tongoi and CMS Africa become fully autonomous – no longer answerable to London after 200 years. It meant tackling a risky real estate project to fund the organisation.
“It was excruciatingly difficult to navigate,” Musyoki remembers. “Those in the UK doubted we could do it. Their risk appetite was lower. Here we said, ‘It’ll work!’ They said, ‘Are you sure?’ But they were sincere in giving us autonomy. Even when we didn’t agree, they let us move forward. And that formed the basis of what I think is a healthy relationship – where we’re interested in each other’s opinions, but ultimately, we make decisions that are right for our own context.”
For Musyoki, that project was more than bricks and mortar – it was about shifting how mission work in Africa could be sustained. “We need to do more commercial projects like that. If missions in Africa are funded from Africa, we’re not a burden – we’re contributors. That’s the kind of shift we need.”
Eventually, Musyoki felt God nudging him into business. The next three years of running a consulting business were brutal. “We were broke. By then we had three children, and kids get hungry every day. It felt like we were working really hard and getting nothing out of it. We thought America was tough – this was tougher.”
Working at his father-in-law’s petrol station seemed like a detour, but it turned out to be an unexpected stepping stone. “At the time, it just felt like supporting family. But looking back, it laid the foundation for Enzi. It gave me a good grasp of how the mobility business works.”
Today, he can see threads from every stage of his journey weaving together. “The US experience helps me work well with my American business partner. The petrol station taught me this industry. The CMS years taught me stewardship. In the moment, I doubted myself constantly – sometimes I even felt reckless, irresponsible. But looking back, a lot of it makes sense.”
Now leading a company at the frontier of African e-mobility, Musyoki’s approach to risk is simple – calculate carefully, then step out anyway. “I’m a Christian, African, accountant. So, caution is part of my DNA,” he laughs. “But I’m always conscious that I never really see the whole picture.”
That’s why he’s hesitant to judge how others handle risk. “Risk and responsibility are difficult to balance. It’s so hard for an outsider to understand why you’d take a leap that might mean you can’t pay your bills. Your average responsible person would say, ‘Do a job even if you hate it, it pays the bills.’”
But for Musyoki, responsible risk often looks different. “You take a risk because you believe the long-term reward will outweigh the short-term cost – not just for you, but for others who’ll benefit from what you dared to do.” His journey invites us to take a more nuanced view of risk, to value relationships, and to trust the unfolding purposes of God.
