There are conversations that cannot be held on a stage. They require a different kind of room. One where nobody is performing and the questions are allowed to stay incomplete.

Trust is one of those conversations.

Founders' Battlefield has been convening those rooms deliberately, because trust has become the defining pressure point for founders building in Kenya and across Africa. Not trust as a soft concept. This shortfall is the direct result of the funding disruption that halted Pepfar's operations last year. r a payment arrives.

On April 14, two rooms ran back to back at Alloy Lounge in Westlands. The first was the FBX Exchange, Founders' Battlefield's pre-Arena dialogue, designed for participants. No panels. No performance.

A structured conversation among founders who are actually building, for four hours before the evening programme opened. It is the exchange layer: the room where founders stop pitching and start talking.

That afternoon, the FBX Exchange ran as a Gen Z session. Khalhani Sichangi presented a founding thesis: Identify unmet demand, engineer the supply, structure it to last. Raphael Mukoko made the case for value proposition clarity: the most defensible businesses make the hardest problems entirely invisible to the customer.

James Ruigu framed the collective work with quiet precision: community shortens the learning curve in ways no curriculum can replicate. By the time the doors opened at 6pm, the room had done its work: strangers into collaborators, questions into decisions.

The second room was Arena Live, Founders' Battlefield's monthly gathering at Alloy Lounge, not a conference or a networking event, but a room where the real cost of building in Africa is spoken aloud without performance. The third edition carried a theme the room had clearly been waiting for: Trust under pressure.

Five speakers. Five arcs. One thread running through all of them.

When Kevin Mutiso argued that your internal state leaks into your pricing, hiring and negotiations, that trust is not a strategy deployed externally but a discipline starting inside the operator, the room went quiet in the way rooms do when something is named that everyone knew but had not said.

Pauline Warui's arc on burnout as a trust failure with yourself landed with the same weight. Burnout as unmanaged load, compounded by isolation, compounded by meaning drift.

Ali Bin Mohamed argued that reputation is not a branding asset but operational currency, your last line of credit when capital tightens, and that argument tied the personal to the systemic, in ways the room carried well past midnight. The room refused to leave. The last conversations wrapped at close to 2am. That tells you something about the depth of the wound.

Because what surfaced across those five arcs was something harder than a business problem. Trust is not just a founder issue. It is societal infrastructure. And in Kenya, and across the continent, that infrastructure is cracking in ways no amount of individual integrity can fully absorb.

Consider pending bills. Government owes suppliers, contractors and service providers- hundreds of billions of shillings. What gets framed as a cashflow problem is, at its core, a trust failure. Someone delivered. Someone did not pay.

The founder on the receiving end absorbs that breach in their body, their team, their balance sheet and their eroding belief that systems protect those who play fair.

On public podiums, leaders speak of accountability while deflecting ownership of failure. Institutions protect themselves before they protect the citizen. Families expect founders to carry collective risk without sharing it.

Communities applaud success and disappear during strain. Markets reward narrative over fundamentals. What is rarely named is what it does to the builder surviving all of it simultaneously.

A founder in this environment is not just managing a business. They are absorbing a trust deficit that belongs to an entire society and being expected to produce results as though it were not there.

The generation entering entrepreneurship now did not arrive at this system fresh. They were born inside it, their first encounters with governance, with business, with community already shaped by normalised trust deficits.

The pattern they are inheriting risks becoming identity. This was the harder question underneath the evening's programme. Not who broke trust. But who inherits the breaking.

There is no clean word for what happens when a generation's unresolved debts become the next generation's starting conditions. But it is felt. Every young founder in that afternoon room felt it. The system they are entering was handed to them intact in its dysfunction, by a generation that never quite fixed it.

When broken contracts and institutional self-protection are passed forward without naming, the next generation builds on them as though they were solid ground.

What does it cost a young founder to build with integrity inside a system that punishes it? And what does it cost a continent to keep asking them to?

Someone must decide the inheritance stops here. Not through a declaration. Through the daily unglamorous choice to hold the line when the system offers an easier route.

In a contract. In a payment made on time, not because enforcement demands it, but because integrity does. That is the only way a curse becomes a different kind of inheritance.

The founders who understand this, across that generational divide, are the ones worth building beside.

Michael Anthony Macharia is a serial entrepreneur, founder of Seven Seas Technologies and Ponea Health