This is not a metaphor. This is not a bid for sympathy. This is the raw, biological cost of carrying visions that were never supposed to exist — blueprints for a global economic architecture, born not in a boardroom, but in the shattered psyche of a seven-year-old boy who was molested by two older males and spent the next three decades trying to outrun the wreckage.

And yet, as I write these words in early 2026, I am preparing for the most consequential deployment of my life. I am going to Africa. Not as a savior — God knows the world has had enough of those. I am going as a broken vessel, carrying a blueprint called The Sovereign Protocol , to the ancient Bafut Kingdom in Cameroon. I go to build. I go to serve. And I go with the desperate, bone-deep prayer that the ancestral rhythms of that land will do what no Western doctor, no medication, and no amount of isolation has been able to do: heal me.

I. The Fracture: What Happens When a Child's World Is Destroyed

I need you to understand where this started. Not the polished, conference-stage version. The real one.

At seven years old, I was sexually violated by two older males. That initial violation ignited a full year of enduring different types of abuse, and in the process, the foundational architecture of my psyche — my sense of safety, of bodily autonomy, of trust in the adult world — was obliterated. When a child's mind encounters trauma of that magnitude, it doesn't simply hurt. It splinters. The brain, in its desperate attempt to survive, fragments itself. I developed Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), though I would remain completely unaware of what was wrong with me until I reached adulthood. I will not recount the full story of my abuse here — the raw, unvarnished truth of my life up until the moment I finally surrendered is documented in my book, The Devil Inside Me .

What emerged simultaneously from that fracture were visions. Intense, unpredictable surges of imagery, concepts, and architectural insight that arrived without warning and without mercy. For most of my life, I believed these visions were a curse — the aftershocks of a detonation that never stopped echoing. Coupled with my mental illness—and an eventual diagnosis on the Autism Spectrum—a variety of addictions ruled my life for over 30 years. The visions came only in the wake of fresh trauma: after a relapse, after a night in a psych ward, after another stint in a jail cell. They were chaos. They were terrifying. They were my psyche screaming into a void that never answered back.

I have written about this journey — the raw, unvarnished passage from victim to visionary, and the survival codes it forged for Industry 5.0 — because I believe with everything in me that the deepest wounds contain the deepest intelligence. But I won't sanitize it for comfort. The molestation at seven didn't just hurt me. It rewired me. It created a man whose mind was wired to receive visions — visions that always show me what is possible and reveal the precise strategic plan on how to get there. It is how I help people in business and life. It is how I created the Media Company in a Box framework, and how I received the complete vision for what we are starting in Bafut before taking it all over the world. But the physical vessel carrying this architecture eventually buckled under the weight. When the tremors finally started in January of 2024, my nervous system revolted: my head and neck shake constantly, my arms sometimes thrashing violently, leaving me a man who can see entire global systems in his mind's eye but cannot hold a conversation without his body at war with itself.

II. The Surrender: The Moment Everything Changed

By age 36, I had exhausted every avenue of self-destruction available to a human being. Addiction. Homelessness. Institutionalization. I had cycled through psychiatric wards and county jails so many times that the intake staff knew me by name. I was not living; I was performing an elaborate, slow-motion death.

And then, in a moment I can only describe as divine intervention, I surrendered. Not to defeat — to God. I yielded my fractured life, every jagged piece of it, to the exact purpose I was created for. And the truth is, for the most part, I knew exactly what I was surrendering into. I was surrendering to the visions I had carried since I was a child. That very first vision, at seven years old, was Africa. For decades, every traumatic event that followed spawned new visions, building relentlessly off that original foundation.

What happened next defies clinical language. The ego — what I called my Dark Passenger, that armored fortress I had built from decades of trauma debris, that hyper-defensive structure designed to protect what was left of me — deactivated. It simply powered down. When I finally surrendered my life to God, I didn't just receive a sudden, crystal-clear integration of all those accumulated visions from childhood; I also received the blueprint of exactly what was next.

What had been chaotic eruptions triggered by acute suffering became a steady, clear, architectural flow. Blueprints for global frameworks. Economic models. Media infrastructure designs. It has always been Africa for me. But here is the profound truth: I did not know I was going to Bafut specifically until just a few weeks ago. My visions were always of a place I had never seen or been. But when I was finally shown images of the Bafut Kingdom, I realized it instantly—it was the exact place I saw in my visions as a child. I saw clearly that it is through Bafut, Cameroon, that this mission will take root — serving as the epicenter for an architecture that will spread throughout the rest of Africa, the Global South, and every underserved community around the world.

I call this spiritual alchemy, and it is the most real thing that has ever happened to me. It is also the origin story of everything I have built since: the global media franchise I detail in The Devil Inside Me , the frameworks, the deployments, the partnerships. Every single one traces back to that moment at 36 when I stopped fighting God and started listening. Surrender wasn't weakness. It was the master key.

III. The Agony: A Body at War with the Modern World

Here is the part no one prepares you for: the visions may have clarified, but the body kept the score.

I live with what clinicians call Electromagnetic Hypersensitivity — a condition the World Health Organization recognizes as profoundly disabling. The frequencies that saturate modern life — cell towers, Wi-Fi routers, Bluetooth signals, even the bioelectric fields generated by other human beings — trigger violent neurological tremors in my body. The more I talk, the worse it gets. The more human interaction I have, the more violently I shake. For over two years, I have lived in strict isolation, confined to a single room, because the alternative is a nervous system in total free fall.

I want to be unflinching about this: there are days when speaking a single sentence feels like swallowing glass. There are nights when the tremors are so severe that sleep is a theoretical concept. The neurological researchers talk about tremor generators, about the interplay between the central nervous system and supra-spinal structures, about reticular activating systems locked in perpetual hyper-arousal. I understand the science. What the science doesn't capture is the loneliness — the profound, soul-crushing isolation of being a man whose body has declared war on the frequencies of human connection.

The very nervous system that generates the visions is now destroying the vessel that carries them. This is why Africa is not just a mission. It is a prayer for survival.

IV. The Bafut Kingdom: Where Healing Meets Revolution

The Bafut Kingdom sits in the highlands of Cameroon's Northwest Region — a place of mist-shrouded valleys, ancestral rhythms, and a cultural heritage stretching back over 600 years, anchored by a palace recognized by UNESCO as a sacred site. It is also ground zero for one of the most devastating and invisible humanitarian crises on the planet.

Since 2016, Cameroon's Anglophone crisis — a brutal secessionist conflict between the Francophone-dominated central government and the marginalized English-speaking minority — has claimed over 6,500 lives, displaced nearly 600,000 people internally, and sent more than 73,000 refugees fleeing across the border into Nigeria. The United Nations reports that 1.8 million people in the Anglophone regions need immediate humanitarian assistance. Over 250,000 children have been affected by violent attacks on education. And in 2025, the Norwegian Refugee Council officially declared Cameroon the single most neglected displacement crisis on Earth — eclipsing Ethiopia, Burkina Faso, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

I have written extensively about why this matters: because the world's most neglected crisis finally has a new answer — and it does not look like traditional charity. It looks like sovereignty.

It should also be mentioned that I have been working and serving in Africa for almost 11 years now. However, it has been in the last four years that this work became most effective—collaborating closely with Hult Prize chapters throughout Nigeria, the Do The Dream Youth Development Initiative, various refugee organizations all through Africa, and our dedicated group at Sovereign Media. This foundational groundwork paved the way for what is happening now.

My partnership with Princess Abumbi Prudence, daughter of Bafut's King Abumbi II, is the operational heart of this deployment. Through her grassroots organization "Youths and the Future," Princess Prudence has been building the foundation for what we now call the Royals Echo Village. Together, we are deploying the Sovereign Protocol — not as a humanitarian aid drop, but as a permanent, self-sustaining technological and economic infrastructure designed to make traditional donor dependency obsolete.

The architecture rests on three pillars:

Using the principles I've documented in The Transformative Power of Media Literacy , we are transforming the most marginalized people in one of the most neglected regions on earth into sovereign digital entrepreneurs. This approach mirrors the work being done through Africa's youth leveraging AI to tackle global inequality — because the technology exists right now to level a playing field that has been deliberately tilted for centuries.

V. Narrative Capital: Selling the Scar, Not the Wound

Everything I build rests on a single philosophical conviction: sell the scar, not the wound. The global development industry has been built on wound-selling — images of suffering designed to trigger pity and extract donations. That model is broken. It creates dependency. It strips dignity. And it ensures that the communities at the center of the crisis never own the most valuable asset they possess: their story.

Narrative Capital is the alternative. As I explore in depth in Bridge to the Future: How Narrative Capital Will Revolutionize Development , when personal and communal histories — particularly those marked by trauma, conflict, and systemic marginalization — are transformed into high-quality, globally distributable media assets, they become an inexhaustible economic engine. The financial resources generated are not linear and donor-dependent; they are exponential and community-controlled. Secured on immutable blockchain ledgers, this Narrative Capital is reinvested directly into local infrastructure, creating a self-sustaining cycle that replaces charity with sovereignty.

This is the beating heart of The Sovereign Franchise — the grand architecture designed to replicate this model across 500 communities worldwide. And it is powered by a fundamental restructuring of how creators interact with the global economy, which I map out in The Creator's Economy: A New Era of Global Prosperity. The current internet economy is digital serfdom. Creators build empires on rented land — YouTube, TikTok, Instagram — and one algorithmic shift can erase everything overnight.

That is why I engineered the Kill Switch Protocol : a systematic methodology for auditing platform dependencies, building un-cancellable infrastructure redundancies, and diversifying revenue streams through direct-to-consumer decentralized payments. If the loss of a single platform threatens more than 20% of your revenue, your brand architecture is critically vulnerable. The Kill Switch Protocol is designed to make that vulnerability impossible.

VI. The Proof of Concept: From Cameroon to Kabul

The Sovereign Protocol is not theoretical. It is already being stress-tested across some of the most dangerous geopolitical environments on the planet.

In Afghanistan, following the Taliban's catastrophic 2021 takeover and the systematic dismantling of women's education, we adapted this framework to support Nahid Salimi, a brilliant young woman from Kabul who founded Youth Digital Literacy. The work she is doing — using technology to transform Afghanistan and empower Afghan girls — is living proof that these tools work in the most hostile environments imaginable. By teaching Python coding and English language skills, the program gives Afghan girls access to global digital labor markets — work that can be done asynchronously, distributed via the internet, and executed entirely outside the reach of physical, political, and gender-based barriers.

Whether in the highlands of Cameroon or the streets of Kabul, the thesis remains identical: marginalized communities do not need more charity. They need the decentralized tools of Industry 5.0 to seize ownership of their intellectual property and build economic futures that no government, no algorithm, and no gatekeeper can revoke.

This is exactly how independent media helps underserved communities — not as a fleeting voice, but as a structural weapon that permanently restructures power dynamics and preserves cultural heritage that would otherwise be erased by conflict and neglect.

VII. The Prayer: What I'm Really Asking For

I need to be transparent about something that terrifies me to admit publicly.

I do not know if my body will survive this deployment. The tremors are severe. The sensitivity to frequencies is acute enough that the satellite internet equipment we will be deploying in Bafut — the very infrastructure that will liberate an entire community — may attack my nervous system while I install it. The irony is not lost on me: the tools of liberation may be the instruments of my physical undoing.

But here is what I believe with a conviction that transcends logic: I believe that the same God who transformed my chaotic, trauma-born visions into clear architectural blueprints at age 36 has a plan for the body that carries them. I believe that integrating into the low-frequency, ancestral rhythms of the Bafut Kingdom — a land largely untouched by the electromagnetic saturation that is killing me — will allow my hyper-aroused nervous system to finally recalibrate. I believe that in serving the exact purpose I was created for, the healing will come.

VIII. A Frequency Only the Broken Can Hear

My entire life has been a study in contradiction. The trauma that destroyed my childhood generated the visions that would become global economic frameworks. The surrender that killed my ego birthed the clearest period of creative architecture I have ever known. The frequencies that are destroying my body are the same frequencies I am deploying to liberate an African kingdom from invisibility.

I do not pretend to understand why the universe operates this way. I only know that it does.

The Sovereign Protocol is not a theory. It is a living, breathing architecture — born in the shattered psyche of a violated child, refined in decades of addiction and isolation, clarified by a spiritual surrender that defies secular explanation, and now being deployed in the heart of the world's most neglected crisis. In Bafut, we will prove that Narrative Capital can replace donor dependency. We will prove that the most marginalized people on earth can become sovereign media entrepreneurs. And we will prove that the deepest wounds — whether inflicted on a seven-year-old boy in Oklahoma or an entire besieged kingdom in Cameroon — contain the structural codes for building legacies that cannot be cancelled, silenced, or erased.

The meek shall inherit the earth. Not through pity. Not through charity. Through the unyielding, decentralized, technologically sovereign architecture that only the broken are desperate enough to build.

The revolution is here. And it is broadcast on a frequency only the broken can hear.