FOUNDER STORY: WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?

I Came to Learn English, and Left with a Future

First visit to Jiyana Secondary School in 2023

“Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

Questions I didn’t quite expect from a young teenager who was about to receive the opportunity of a lifetime. In October 2024, during an interview with a prospective scholar in Mbombela, Mpumalanga, I struggled to explain the purpose that had driven me for the better part of two years.

Leaving inspired and wondering at the same time, I realized it’s these very conversations that fuel my drive and motivation. It’s one thing to have good grades, yet true potential goes so much deeper than that. The following reflection is an effort to express my Why Blue Chip Future Fund in the form of a heartfelt personal story.

(And in case you’re wondering, yes, that student did make it into our program. With an overwhelming number of candidates to choose from, signs of reflective and critical thinking like that can be what ultimately tilt the balance.)

The catalyst

Born and raised in Austria, it was in 2013 that I had to change myself before I could even begin to understand what it meant to become an agent of change for others. It was during my grade eleven semester abroad in South Africa that I embarked on a journey that would transform my life forever. I was on the brink of failing English class in high school and was desperately looking for a way out. Going through peak adolescence at 17 years old, and just wanting to move as far away from home as possible, South Africa seemed like the solution to all my problems.

After arriving in Johannesburg, full of expectations, I soon realized that things weren’t anything like what I had hoped for. I lived with a host family of the Sesotho tribe and was sent to Jiyana Secondary School in Tembisa, a township near Johannesburg — an area that was historically underdeveloped and segregated during apartheid. The school premises were surrounded by a high, spiked fence. English was a secondary language at best. Everyone wanted to talk to and touch me, and for the first time in my life, I was the one sticking out of the crowd. I was not prepared for the immense social pressure and racial tension, and I struggled to cope. Feeling trapped both at school and at home, especially after our house was broken into while we were asleep, posed a stark contrast to the freedom I had taken for granted back home.

Family picture — soon to grow by another member

And yet, for many South Africans, this sense of insecurity isn’t unusual — it’s their daily reality. Today, I’ve come to understand that what was once jarring to me, hearing gunshots and dogs barking at night, is something others grow up with: a constant undercurrent of danger that limits not just freedom of movement, but freedom of mind.

Get on your knees!

My host mother was (and still is) a teacher at the school I attended, so she and I would always drive there in the mornings. One day, however, we got held up in traffic and were a few minutes late. At that point, the gates were closed and guarded by security, with dozens of students waiting to receive their “punishment” before being allowed in. While I had observed the procedure before, I never thought I would ever be subjected to it myself.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but my host mother did the only right thing: she asked me to get out of the car — thinking about it still makes my heart beat faster — and wait with the other students. They proceeded to open the gate, she drove in, and I was left in the front row and on high alert.

This is where things got tricky. One of the guards approached me with a piece of hose in his hand. Standing face to face, he told me to get on my knees. Without hesitation, I went off on him, saying I wouldn’t get on my knees for anyone, and that “this is not how we do things in Austria.” He looked at me, and after a brief moment of silence, he opened the gate and let me in — just me, no one else.

The gate where the “hose” incident occurred

Back then, I felt that I was standing up for myself. Looking back now, I wonder why I was initially singled out, only to then be the only one let in without punishment. White privilege?

To be clear, I don’t know what the guard’s intentions were, nor did I ever witness students down on their knees being physically disciplined with a hose or any other object. I recognize that we all see the world through different lenses shaped by our upbringing and backgrounds, and that mine may have distorted or limited my understanding of what really happened that day.

The Empire State of Mind

Despite my lack of cultural understanding and naively applying Austrian standards on the other side of the planet — an attitude that would have been rejected by most — my host sister, Palesa, leaned in with empathy. Without lecturing, she helped me make sense of many things that, until then, had been entirely outside my realm of comprehension. She also created a space where we could openly challenge each other’s perceptions, sparking personal growth like never before.

Palesa recalls: “It was not difficult to open up to Peter. What really drew me in was how different our opinions were. I had longed for the freedom he experienced, and he encouraged me to break the mold and dare to live out my dreams.”

Being welcomed by and taken into another family 8,000 kilometers from home taught me a sense of community I’ve been immensely grateful for ever since. When my host dad started introducing me as his “son” without further context, I knew I had found a second family.

While I was supposed to stay for an entire year, I ended up back in Austria halfway through the program — overwhelmed and paralyzed by a culture shock I wasn’t prepared for. Back then, I couldn’t help but feel like a quitter.

As I processed my experience, however, I soon realized that the most challenging time of my life had become the most valuable. Sharing the classroom with students who were often smarter and worked harder than me, yet had no opportunities, shifted my perspective on life and put me back on the track I belonged. My grades significantly improved, and I graduated high school with a perfect score in English. This opened many doors, and I was able to pursue the investing career in New York City I had always dreamed of.

View from my former office in New York City

While this dream, working on Wall Street, turned out to be everything I wanted it to be, it also watered a seed that had already been planted during my time in South Africa: I felt the urge to reclaim what once felt like failure and turn it into something meaningful — to find a purpose that serves more than just myself.

When words turn into action — Blue Chip Future Fund

The challenges I observed during my time in South Africa have stayed with me for more than a decade, something I could never shake and still think about to this day. Still, it took eight years and a profound conversation with a close friend (Innocent) from Zimbabwe to realize that contemplating and complaining have never driven change. Having left home in his early teens to further his education in the U.S., Innocent never lost touch with his community, constantly seeking ways to drive impact and positive change. To him, giving back is not optional — it’s essential. That conversation deeply inspired me and marked a turning point: I realized it was time to stop talking and start taking action. I pulled in my co-founders, Palesa and Michael, and Blue Chip Future Fund was born.

Let’s be honest: people all over Africa are tired of foreigners telling them their story, how to live, what to think, and how to fix their own problems. There is no one-size-fits-all approach, and I’m definitely not the one to decide what’s right and what’s wrong. At BCFF, we’ve built a diverse team of individuals who have walked in the shoes of the people we serve, speak nearly every official South African language, and understand the local nuances inside and out. Countless conversations have drastically expanded my cultural understanding and shaped the very direction of this organization. People who were once strangers have become a powerful team of like-minded individuals, united by one goal — maximizing impact.

BCFF is built around the vision of a social venture with the character of an early-stage investment fund. It invests in individuals and ideas that can drive systemic change from within — to not just help people get by, but to transform the world they live in and trigger positive ripple effects (hence the new logo).

A vision so strong, it prompted me to leave behind the Big Apple and focus solely on BCFF in 2023. Ever since then, I’ve been devoting my time, energy, and personal savings to building this organization from the ground up — without drawing a salary. While this journey hasn’t always been easy or lucrative, it has rewarded me with an incredibly steep learning curve that’s made me a better leader, founder, and investor.

Fast forward two years, and the vision has become reality. We’re a driving force of impact in South Africa, with footprints on three continents and a movement that grows by the day. Our biggest asset: we know what we don’t know, we’re not “saving” the world, the world can save itself. We’re merely boosting progress.

So what's in it for me?

The answer is simple: purpose. Giving back to and driving sustainable change in a community that once changed my life has been my biggest and most fulfilling commitment to date: one with no easy way out, a fact I embrace with all my heart. While failure is inevitable on the path to driving positive change, quitting is NOT an option.

Bearing a massive amount of responsibility for the scholars in our program — who have placed their hope, trust, and future in our hands — has permanently changed me as a person, how I think and how I work. Sharing hope is a gift, and we will not let them down!