Life Lessons: Failure Isn't The End Of The Story

In 2012, Mostafa Talaat and Kareem El-Shaffei co-founded Cirqy (which means “my circus” in Arabic), a Cairo-based online marketplace for independent designers, creatives, and small brands to showcase their work. Spurred by rising demand for authentic, wellcrafted homegrown products as well as an increasing supply of products by local designers with few outlets to sell, it was essentially Egypt’s answer to Etsy, with the enterprise also having big plans for expansion across the MENA region.

“Our pitch to designers was simple,” El-Shaffei and Talaat recall. “We’d give them a platform where their work wouldn’t get lost in the noise, and we’d handle the technical side so they could focus on creating. “We also leaned into the growing ‘support local’ movement. We juggled everything – content creation, seller relationships, marketing, and keeping up with tech. Ultimately, Cirqy was about more than just selling products — it was about building a community around local talent and creativity.”

Between 2012 and 2014, the duo left their corporate 9-to-5 jobs to commit full-time to building their e-commerce startup without a playbook in hand. But, at the time, Egypt’s entrepreneurship ecosystem was underdeveloped, e-commerce penetration and payment gateways were in their early days, and delivery options were limited.

“In 2012, the entrepreneurship scene in Egypt was still finding its feet,” the duo says. “There was a lot of energy and excitement around startups, but the ecosystem was far from mature. We didn’t have the same kind of support structures you see today — no accelerators or roadmaps for what to do next. It was a lot of trial by fire, which had its ups and downs.” And then, in 2014, Talaat and El-Shaffei made the decision to shut their enterprise down, owing to slow growth, logistical challenges, and a general lack of market preparedness.

“Looking back, launching a business in post-revolution Egypt was bold, if not a little crazy,” Talaat and El-Shaffei say. “But being young helps; you don’t overthink the risks as much. We started with the basics: mapping out the idea, building a financial model (which, looking back, was probably more optimistic than realistic), and pulling together a pitch deck and business plan. The early days were a mix of excitement, sleepless nights, and a lot of uncertainty. We had to figure out everything from the ground up — how to onboard sellers, manage payments, handle logistics, and market the platform. Egypt’s e-commerce infrastructure wasn’t exactly robust back then, so we had to navigate challenges like unreliable delivery options, convincing consumers to trust online shopping, and working around the lack of solid payment gateways. It was a constant learning curve.”

So, what made them decide to pull the plug on Cirqy? “There wasn’t a dramatic ‘aha’ moment when we decided to call it quits,” they reply. “It was more of a slow realization over time. For us, it became clear that scaling was more challenging than we anticipated. The market wasn’t evolving as quickly as we hoped, and some of the logistical hurdles – like unreliable delivery services, low ticket items with lower margins, and payment systems – were holding us back. There was also a big gap between seed investment at the time and venture capital. Angel investors were extremely risk-averse as well. It was one of those times where you realize that passion can only carry you so far – you also need the market to be ready. It was tough, but knowing when to move on is important, and we both agreed that it was time to close that chapter.”

But today, 10 years after they made that fateful decision, Talaat – who is now director of consumer and shopper marketing communications for Coca-Cola in Eurasia and the Middle East at The Coca-Cola Company, and El-Shaffei – who is currently the director of product and growth at the Cairo-headquartered fintech startup, Money Fellows – believe that failing at Cirqy has been the most valuable lesson of their careers. “Looking back, there are definitely things we would have done differently,” Talaat says. “I probably wasn’t fully prepared for what it takes to build a startup from scratch. But then again, I don’t think anyone ever really is. It’s one of those things you can’t fully grasp until you’re knee-deep in it. Every challenge taught me something, and while we were early pioneers in a market that was still developing, I’ve carried those lessons with me into everything I’ve done since. Cirqy was like getting a master’s degree in ‘what not to do.’ And honestly, it makes for great job interview material. I love starting with, ‘I founded a startup and failed,’ because people really do underestimate the power of failing. It’s like an automatic icebreaker – you can see people relax when they realize you’re not pretending everything’s perfect. One big lesson I took away was how to pivot – and fast. Startups move at 100 miles an hour, and Cirqy taught me that if something isn’t working, you can’t sit there hoping it magically will. You have to change course, sometimes midflight. That agility has been crucial in my current role, where the pace is just as relentless.”

“Then, there’s the relationship-building part,” Talaat adds. “At Cirqy, we created a community of creators and customers who were all about local, unique products. Cirqy showed me that people don’t just buy products; they buy stories. That same approach works in marketing – whether I’m crafting a campaign or working with teams, it’s all about creating authentic connections. And, of course, there’s the whole ‘embracing failure’ thing. Turns out, failing spectacularly at Cirqy was one of the best things that could’ve happened. I learned more about business – and myself – from those missteps than from anything that went smoothly. Now, when things go sideways (which they inevitably do), I don’t freak out. I know there’s always something to learn, and sometimes that’s more valuable than getting it right the first time. So yeah, Cirqy didn’t end with a unicorn valuation, but it gave me the resilience and perspective I use every day. Failure wasn’t the end of the story – it just gave me better material for the next chapter.”

This article first appeared in the November issue of Inc. Arabia magazine. To read the full issue online, click here.