Crisis Management: Lessons from the Edge

Crisis management isn’t learned in a textbook—it’s forged in the most challenging moments, where every decision can define your future and the lives of those who depend on you. My journey has been one of triumphs, mistakes, and profound lessons that come from navigating storms.

As the leader of my companies and the head of my family, I was the light they all looked to. But when my decisions failed, they didn’t just destroy my life—they sent ripples of confusion and pain through everyone who relied on me. Leadership is a privilege that carries unimaginable responsibility, and when it falters, the consequences are far-reaching.

In prison, I experienced firsthand the devastation of broken promises. Guards would promise food or blankets, only to take them away or never deliver. The hope they offered would turn to despair in seconds. It taught me that trust, once broken, can leave scars far deeper than the surface—something I had also unknowingly inflicted on others in my life.

My biggest mistake was letting confidence turn into recklessness. I often took unnecessary risks, chasing incredible rewards. Most of the time, those risks paid off, but the few times they didn’t, the consequences unraveled everything I had built. Confidence without caution can be a destructive force.

Even in my darkest moments, I remembered that my children were watching, perhaps from afar. I refused to let my failures define my legacy. This will not be my final song. I will fight and rise again until I’m back on stage, not just surviving but thriving.

My mistakes didn’t just impact me—they destroyed the lives of those around me. Family, friends, employees—everyone paid a price for my poor decisions. This is the heaviest burden of all: knowing the weight of your choices falls on others.

I once worked with a brilliant businessman who had the talent to transform our company into an industry pioneer. He didn’t want to own the business—he didn’t crave the responsibility. If I had supported him and let him lead operations while I played a supportive role, our achievements could have been limitless. Instead, my mistakes held us back.

Prison is the ultimate mirror. Solitude forces you to confront yourself in ways you never imagined. For 31 months, I didn’t see my reflection—there are no mirrors in prison—but I saw myself clearer than ever before. I didn’t like what I saw. That raw self-awareness was both humbling and transformative.

I’ve always prided myself on being laser-focused, but in my drive, I often ignored the noise around me. Sometimes, the noise carries the warnings, the insights, and the perspectives we need to hear. Crisis management isn’t just about focus—it’s about balance.

In the coffin-like hole of an African prison, I learned the ultimate lesson in resilience. I had to show everyone, including myself, that I couldn’t be broken, no matter the pressure. Even the smallest crack would have cost me my life. Crisis management often demands this same unwavering strength.

At the end of the day, you are your own light. In the darkest moments, you must let it shine. When you do, no darkness—no matter how overwhelming—can consume you.

Crisis management is about more than surviving; it’s about emerging stronger, wiser, and ready to lead with purpose. I’ve learned these lessons the hard way, but they’ve shaped me into the leader I am today. Let your light shine, and there is no crisis you cannot overcome.