If you wander through this site you’ll see snapshots of my story—board-room victories, family snapshots, the mountain trails that keep me sane—but here’s the fuller arc of how I ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with men rather than hunched over server budgets.

I started my adult life at Stellenbosch, head crammed with computer science and leadership theory, heart already tugged by questions of purpose. A few promotions later I was a CIO overseeing global rollouts, flying business class, and ticking every external box. Internally? A slow leak. After a late night in the office I caught my reflection in a glass wall—expensive suit, tired eyes—and walked to my bookshelf for distraction. Two pristine tech manuals sat beside rows of unread books on culture, faith, and human potential. That contrast felt like a slap: I’m solving the wrong problems.

Around the same time I’d been volunteering at a local men’s mentorship group—just evenings, nothing heroic. Yet those raw conversations lit me up more than any quarterly win. I’d drive home feeling honest and strangely alive, only to suit up the next morning and pour myself back into spreadsheets.

Eventually the cognitive dissonance grew louder than the pay cheque. I cashed in stock options, signed up for an MBA in Leadership at GIBS, then dove head-first into coach training: an ICF professional programme, CliftonStrengths, Conversational Intelligence—anything that helped me understand why men succeed on paper yet suffocate inside.

Still, all that theory needed testing. For years I mentored informally: one-on-one coffees, small groups, weekend retreats. I watched executives soften, dads reconnect, and young men catch a glimpse of the larger story they were born for. My own marriage and fatherhood weren’t picture-perfect—plenty of late-night arguments and self-doubt—but the tools I was practising with clients were rewiring my life in real time.That’s when Aruka emerged—Hebrew for “to heal, to restore.” The mission was simple: create a place where men could trade performance masks for honest mirrors, combine neuroscience with faith-aware wisdom, and walk out with purpose that holds up Monday morning.

Fast-forward to today: hundreds of coaching hours, men’s groups, team off-sites, and the privilege of watching leaders move from fog to focus. I split my time between one-to-one coaching, high-trust team work, and writing the kinds of posts—mountains, rowing crews, bookshelf epiphanies—that maybe brought you here.

If any part of this story feels familiar—restless success, quiet misalignment, the sense that your next chapter demands a different kind of strength—hang around these pages. Soak up the articles, case studies, and free assessments. When the words start cutting through your own fog, you’ll know your next move.

To healing, to restoration, to the man you were made to be.