I was born as Endah Bongo in Bota Limbe, Cameroon, the fifth of nine children and the official “middle-child mediator” of a very lively household. My dad, who taught himself to read and write and worked his way up to become a Delegate of Town Planning, calls me his carbon copy. My mum named me after her aunt and calls me Aunty. So from early on I was both “mini-Dad” and “Grandma”, with all the expectations that come with that.

Growing up, my father had one core message:

“The best thing you can do for yourself is get information, information, and more information.”

He paid me for good grades (yes, actual cash 💸), so I studied hard, partly for my future, partly for my dad, and partly for the little “scholarship” he ran from his pocket. That mix of love, pressure, and playful competition shaped me: I learned early that knowledge, discipline, and encouragement can change a life.

As the only child with both older and younger brothers and sisters, I naturally became the peacemaker, always trying to help everyone see each other’s point of view. That’s where my empathy started: in a noisy house in Cameroon, just wanting everyone to feel seen and heard.

---

From “African Daughter” to “German Mum”

Fast-forward to university: I studied Banking and Finance and imagined a future in a big bank, nice office, a secretary, signing cheques, very serious. Then life added a plot twist: I met my husband, got married, and moved to Germany.

I landed in Germany in 2007 knowing almost no one and speaking almost no German. I was so new to the culture that I once paid the bus driver at the end of the journey instead of the beginning, I just smiled and hoped for the best.

Back home in Cameroon, when a woman marries and has a baby, her mother usually comes to stay for weeks or months, helping with cooking, healing, and all the “how do I do this?” moments. I didn’t have that. No mother moving in, no aunties passing by daily with advice and food. Just me, my husband, my bonus son, and a lot of silence.

Then my daughter arrived in 2008, and my son in 2010. My world became nappies, kindergarten runs, German classes, and being “Mama” 24/7. I loved my children deeply and enjoyed my “mommy balloon”… but after a while, something in me started whispering:

“Is this all of you, Endah? Aren’t there other parts of you that still want to grow?”

That quiet question wouldn’t leave me.

---

Losing Myself, Then Finding a New Version

I knew I didn’t want to do just any job. I wanted something that respected my mind, my education, and my responsibilities as a mother. I tried different options, went to interviews that would keep me far from my kids for too long, and felt torn between ambition and motherhood.

One day, out of frustration, I went downstairs to my American neighbor, vented about my failed university applications, and she asked:

“Have you thought about an online degree?”

Two days before the deadline, I applied to FernUniversität in Hagen. I got in.

Studying in German, raising kids, managing a home, and trying not to lose my mind, it wasn’t glamorous. I even once studied day and night for exams, only to realize I had forgotten to register for them. I cried, a lot. Then I wiped my tears, adjusted, and tried again.

In 2018, after all the chaos, sacrifice, and late-night studying, I graduated as valedictorian of my class in Business Economics. Standing on that stage in front of hundreds of students, giving that speech, I realized:

This is what happens when a girl from Bota Limbe refuses to give up on herself.

---

Falling in Love With Tech (and Failing Forward)

After my Master’s, I worked at KfW Banking Group and took part in an internal innovation campaign about climate change. While many ideas focused on “plant more trees” and “use less plastic,” my brain went to data and visuals:

“If you want people to change, show them the impact of their actions.”

That’s how the idea for a climate app was born, one that measures your daily activities, calculates your carbon footprint, and shows you the difference your choices make. Our idea made it to the Top 4 out of about 70 submissions and we pitched it to the board. That process introduced me to developers, IT specialists, and the world of building digital products. Something woke up in me.

Then COVID hit, my contract ended, and I found myself at a crossroads again.

Around that time, AWS released vouchers for their Cloud Practitioner certification in Sub-Saharan Africa. I jumped in. Cloud computing absolutely blew my mind… but it did not love me back immediately.

I failed the exam.
Tried again. Failed.
At that point I said, “Okay, if I can’t pass this, I’ll teach it.”

So I taught my younger brother,an accountant with no tech background—the basics of cloud. He went in for the exam… and passed. Before me.

That was a mix of horror and holy revelation. 😅 It also showed me something important:

When I teach, people grow. When I speak, something clicks for others.

Soon after, I passed the exam too. But the bigger lesson was clear: I wasn’t just walking a new path in tech—I was also meant to guide others along their own paths.

---

From Free Classes to a Movement

I became a mentor and teacher and board member Cloud Heroes Africa, helping people in Africa get into cloud computing, for free, often under very tough circumstances. That experience showed me both the hunger and the obstacles: lack of guidance, lack of role models, and a lot of self-doubt.

Over time, my journey continued:

• I became a DevOps/Cloud Platform Engineer in Germany.
  
• I joined the AWS Community Builders program.
  
• I became a Google Women Techmakers Ambassador.
  
• I started speaking at online tech conferences, AWS Community Days, All Day DevOps and more, sharing my story and technical knowledge with global audiences.
  

Yet every time I mentored someone privately or in small groups, especially African youth, women, and career switchers, something in me lit up differently. I saw myself in them:

• The girl who wanted more but didn’t know how to express it.
  
• The woman who moved abroad and felt lost.
  
• The mother who wondered if her dreams were “too late.”
  
• The professional who had potential but no clear direction.
  

This is where Mentorship Matters Africa (MMA) was born, not as a fancy brand idea, but as a very real answer to real pain I lived and saw around me.

---

Why I Created Mentorship Matters Africa

Mentorship Matters Africa exists because I know how it feels to be:

• Smart, but unsure.
  
• Surrounded by expectations, yet unsure of your own purpose.
  
• Far from home, or far from opportunities.
  
• Full of potential, but lacking a guide, a map, or a community.
  

MMA is my way of turning all those tears, exams, late-night study sessions, failed attempts, and small victories into a clear pathway for others.

My vision is to:

• Mentor 1 million Africans by 2030.
  
• Build a community where young professionals, graduates, and career switchers can find clarity about who they are, who they serve, and what solution they bring to the world.
  
• Combine tech, leadership, and identity work—not just “how to get a job,” but how to build a life that feels aligned and meaningful.
  
• Use AI and automation to scale mentorship, so that someone in a small town in Africa can access the same level of guidance as someone in a big European city.
  
• Offer free and paid programs, so that those who can invest in themselves help us keep the doors open for those who currently cannot.
  

I am still a wife, a mother of three, a Cloud Platform Engineer, a mentor, and an eternal student. I’m building a life where:

• My children see what is possible.
  
• My community sees that “people like us” can be global leaders.
  
• And my mentees learn to say, with confidence: “My story matters, and my solution matters too.”
  

---

In Simple Terms

I created Mentorship Matters Africa because no one should have to figure out their life, career, and identity alone, especially not in silence, especially not in shame.

If my journey from Bota Limbe to Germany, from failed exams to valedictorian, from confused mother to Cloud Platform Engineer and global mentor can mean anything, let it mean this:

You are not behind.
You are not disqualified.
You are not alone.

You’re just in the middle of your own story.
And at MMA, I’m here, with my lived experience, my tech skills, my faith, plenty of empathy, and a little humor, to walk that road with you.