While reading articles on global inequality, I came across a term coined by economist Raj Chetty, “lost Einsteins”: people who could have become brilliant innovators like Albert Einstein but never had the opportunity to reach such heights. I finally found a description for something I have always grappled with.

I grew up on the Island, in the commercial and coastal heart of Nigeria’s largest city, Lagos. It is a place of glaring contradictions. The extravagantly rich exist alongside those who have to fight tooth and nail to make ends meet. It is unsettling to walk past mansions filled with luxury cars while, just a couple of streets away, fellow humans beg for alms.

The World Bank calculated that, in 2025, Nigeria’s poverty rate reached 63%, with more than 140 million people living in extreme hardship. What could have been if these people were not stuck in such unfortunate circumstances? How would they have contributed to society? Could the roadside herbalist be a renowned pharmacologist? Could the kids who love to make something novel out of broken gadgets have become Silicon Valley icons?

My city is a breeding ground for hustlers. Many children in Lagos are raised to be entrepreneurial. Some grow up working at family-owned roadside shops or hawking goods. They know how to calculate money well, woo customers, come up with quick ideas to address infrastructure gaps and navigate a chaotic society as they are coming of age.

Stanford has educated some of the world’s most respected entrepreneurs—the Hewletts and Packards who built technologies that shaped modern society. If Stanford is looking to preserve its reputation as the place-to-be for the daring and the innovative, I believe it should look beyond conventional high-achievers from privileged backgrounds.

To make my point, I will use the term “Lost Swanikers,” taken from the surname of Fred Swaniker MBA ’04, a Ghanaian serial entrepreneur and educator who has leveraged his Stanford education to advance Africa, the world’s most youthful continent. 

He founded the African Leadership Group, which includes ALX, a career training platform for young Africans, and the African Leadership University. As he stated during a TED Talk, the university performs as “Africa’s Ivy League, but instead of getting admitted because of your SAT scores or because of how much money you have or which family you come from, the main criteria for getting into this university will be what is the potential that you have for transforming Africa?”

I agree with this criterion of finding our continent’s next generation of leaders. It is not uncommon for me to come across “diamonds in the rough”: people with hidden potential who look unpolished on the outside. They would probably be turned away from Stanford if they ever applied because they grew up in circumstances where survival was the only accomplishment worth chasing. But these experiences have made them adaptable and uniquely brilliant. Some call it “street smarts,” and experts refer to it as “practical intelligence.” 

Education is often seen as the great equalizer. A study published by the International Centre for Integrated Development Research confirms that educational attainment increases the possibility of upward social mobility for Nigerians. 

But even those who do everything right cannot escape becoming Lost Swanikers. At my STEM-heavy middle school in Yaba, a district in Lagos often referred to as “Nigeria’s Silicon Valley” due to its concentration of tech startups and proximity to the University of Lagos and Yaba College of Technology, I met several jaw-droppingly brilliant kids. They could recite the chemical elements in the periodic table while still taking introductory-level science and were quick to raise their hands to answer questions in mathematics classes. I often felt they all had bright futures ahead of them. Boy, was I wrong.

According to a 2025 report, nearly 80 million Nigerian youth are unemployed or underemployed. Their potential remains unrealized and they are unable to contribute to the country’s development. For those who are interested in starting their own ventures, a lack of resources and reliable infrastructure can be a barrier, leading to untapped avenues for leveraging human capital to create value. This problem is beyond Nigeria and is a cause of concern among youth across the continent. What if Stanford doubled down on its efforts to support these lost Swanikers? 

I am aware of the Stanford Seed initiative, which supports entrepreneurs in developing economies. I envision a program specifically for African youth that provides them with entrepreneurial knowledge, mentorship, and resources that empower them to thrive and give them opportunities that break cycles of poverty. Stanford can collaborate with community-based organizations, its African alumni and local representatives to identify these could-be wunderkinds. Their potential is not lost but is instead discovered, nurtured, and guided along a path to success, one that benefits not only the individuals themselves but also their communities, their countries, and Africa at large.

While that is not yet a reality, there are a growing range of initiatives to find and support these Lost Swanikers. Nigerian chess champion Tunde Onakoya’s Chess in Slums Africa uplifts children in underserved communities across Nigeria through chess and STEM education. Cameroonian consultant Acha Leke’s African Leadership Academy (Swaniker is a co-founder) has enrolled more than 1,850 emerging African leaders in its rigorous pre-university program and has provided them with a holistic education that prepares them to contribute positively to the continent’s development. Harare-based educator Rebecca Zeigler Mano’s MA ‘92 Education Matters Africa has spent more than two decades enabling Zimbabwe’s brightest, most impoverished students to study abroad.

I want to hold on to my dwindling optimism that someday, the world will have fewer Lost Swanikers. Talent is truly everywhere, but opportunity is not.