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I’ve been reading an interesting 2004 book, From Me to We, by Craig and Marc Kielburger, two brothers who were brought up in a middle-class American home, headed for a normal progression through higher education and into well-paying jobs. But while still in their teens they both were encouraged to fly to the poorest, most miserable Asian environments to see for themselves the dramatic contrast between their lives and the lives of those who struggle in the meanest of slums, including through offering their young children as sources of brutal labour.

It was an eye-opener for them, as the norm in backgrounds such as theirs is to be unaware of the extent of the contrast between their comfortable lives and the awful existence of the large number of poor people, many homeless and with insufficient money for clothes or even food. These are the excessive inequalities we experience these days, including and not least here in Kenya.

The Asian visits transformed the lives of the two brothers, leading them to dedicate themselves to helping the needy around the world. Even before reaching their twenties their ‘Free the Children’ NGO grew to global prominence, as they encouraged people to seek other than just money and power, and to volunteer to help others… together, as ‘We’.

Reading the book I immediately thought of my long association with Rotary, nearly fifty years now. For Rotary, like other service organisations, is a great example of moving from “Me” to “We”, bringing volunteer members of individual clubs together with each other so as to make a disproportionately greater impact on our surrounding communities. Then also having clubs from around the country, the region and globally collaborate, and partnering with other complementary partners too.

My next thought was how other volunteers have been brought together through the development of Corporate Social Responsibility, CSR, this within the organisations where they work. CSR activity began to be formalised in the 1950s, and it has gathered great momentum more recently, with the full expectation that businesses should please stakeholders beyond only shareholders, including for the wellbeing of the greater society.

Now CSR projects are being challenged to align themselves with the UN’s 17 Strategic Development Goals (SDGs), which highlight the connection between the environmental, social and governance elements of sustainability. What a great way to educate so many people at so many levels in the private sector (it’s time for this to spread to public sector and to NGOs) so they are not only aware of the bigger picture of universal wellbeing, but so they actively participate in ways of making a difference.

Here they now are, volunteering within their day-jobs, helping to improve the lives of the under-privileged, whether by meeting urgent short-term needs such as providing food and shelter; or by building schools, clinics and other needed services; or by adopting an institution or a whole village. Another area that I have seen is vitally important for volunteering is by raising the level of those with great potential that is not being otherwise nurtured of whom are so many, so they have a chance of fulfilling their potential and indeed then in turn helping others.

It is by being personally exposed to the circumstances under which the most deprived around us live, and then by becoming active in improving their lot, that societies around the world will become more caring. Individuals contributing to such programmes will make new decisions about their values and how they want to live, and redefine their goals and the legacy they wish to leave behind them. Above all, the Kielburgers found, this broadening of the scope of one’s life through volunteering leads one to redefine the meaning of one’s life and what it is that makes one successful and happy.

Here we’re talking about the choice between being totally devoted to one’s career success, accumulating fancy titles and fancy cars on the one hand, and on the other hand balancing this with investing part of one’s time helping others.

In Kenya the whole idea of Harambee fund-raisers are meant to achieve such sharing within communities. Unfortunately though, too often they just became ways for politicians and other people of influence to enhance their personal popularity. Oh to purify that Harambee spirit! Yet we also have many genuine helpers of the needy here, starting at a young age with community projects engaged in by schools.

So if you are a volunteer in some capacity with a “We” group, feel good about it and attract others to join you. And as parents and generally as elders, promote the concept. We need as much as possible of this caring mindset to dilute the huge inequalities in our society.

A few weeks ago, my daughter asked me to write a letter to her children, my grandchildren, laying out what it will take for them to lead a happy and fulfilled life. Here’s what I came up with:

My dear grandchildren, all three of you are delightful young characters. Each of you is different, with your own characters and personalities, your own natural strengths, and areas where you are much less comfortable. You are lucky to have wonderful parents, who know how to get the best out of you. And they are lucky that you take advantage of all they have to offer you.

As you make your way through your teenage years, like all teenagers there’s so much exploring you do. Some of it fills you with anxiety, and setbacks occur. And some fills you with excitement, as your achievements give you the confidence to continue being bold and courageous. In among these it’s very impressive to see you are with those who have been playing leadership roles.

Who knows what each of you will end up doing after you go through your studies and enter the workplace? Any by the way there’s no rush to decide. Keep up the great variety of learning experiences you are going through, from the academic to the sport, music, dancing, community work, travel and others.

So what advice can I give you? Alongside all the skills you are getting hold of, so significant is how you behave – with yourself and with everyone around you. Those who do well in life, who feel comfortable interacting with other human beings, of whatever age, occupation, nationality and so on, will always be way ahead of those who find it harder to do so. It may be because they are shy, perhaps because they prefer to just get on with doing tasks quietly on their own, but for whatever reason they’ll really be missing out.

So what kind of behaviour is helpful, and what is unhelpful? You already know a lot about this, from your own experiences. So think about what has worked well for you, what has not… and why. This within the family, with school and other friends, and beyond. What lessons have you learned? How have you got better? Where can you still improve?

I remember quite some years ago when your mother and I were with you two brothers in London, and as we were walking along the street you started nagging each other. As I was watching you I decided to help you stop. Here’s how I suggested you go about it.

Each of us has a sense of whether we are “OK” or “Not OK”. What does that mean? If I think I am “OK”, I feel comfortable with myself and don’t need to go around making others feel uncomfortable. But that is if I also think that you are “OK”. And surely between the two of you, both are very much so – as the years since then have shown you to fully accept.

The next bit, which works together with this, is you get on with those who are younger or older, more senior or more junior – as it is between you elder and younger brothers. Do the older and more senior ones treat the younger or more junior ones, as “parents” treat “children”? Or, never mind these differences, do they treat them as just another good person?

The way this can be described is that they behave neither as “parents” (never mind “stern parents”) nor as children (never mind “naughty children”), but as “adults” – sober, mature characters who have good conversations that lead to good results.

The “So what?” of this behaviour should be that everyone ends up in a good place. To put it simply, they get to “Win-Win”. This is what emotional intelligence is all about, a vital skill to develop. If you do, then people will be attracted to you – you will be a great team member, and a great leader of teams. And if you don’t, as many do not, you will find it very much harder to live a happy and fulfilled life.

I also wrote about the need to be humble, while enjoying one’s competencies. I urged them to be curious, asking questions and not just spouting their own views. I’m happy my grandchildren have a strong sense of humour and enjoy plenty of laughter. Where there is this lightness, it so reinforces emotional intelligence, making it much easier to work and play together.

I asked my grandchildren to think about it all, to chat with each other, and to get back to me. The way it worked out was that my daughter read my letter to each of her children separately, and this led to good conversations between them. As I hope it does between you and relevant relatives.

The way people are examining Gen Z mindsets these days one would imagine that the term “rebellious teenager” was coined just the other day. But no. It came about in the Post World War II 1950s, by when a new category between childhood and adulthood had already been identified. Beyond that surely this is a timeless and global phenomenon, with a whole spectrum from the over-compliant to the over-resentful along the centuries of mankind.

For me generational generalisations have always been overstated, as are others between genders, levels of education, national and regional cultures and elsewhere. Surely, when you look back on your teenage years you relate at least somewhat to the contemporary teenage phenomenon? Weren’t you considered over-ambitious by your elders, unduly impatient to get ahead? Didn’t you enjoy music and fashion that were in ostentatious contrast to those your parents found appealing?

My generation is too old to be among the “baby boomers” who emerged following the Second World War and are renowned for their stability and structures. No, I am one of the “Silent Generation”, who apparently just did as we were told as we worked in factories and farms and were restrained conformists. Really? Me? I don’t think so. Surely I too wanted to be included and to have my voice heard. So that when it was I felt motivated and engaged and when it was not I retreated and under-performed.

Having entered the IT industry in 1967 at the launch of my career I was exposed to a sector that enjoyed much flatter and more fluid organisational pyramids than most. For with the rapid succeeding generations of technology, many disruptively replacing their predecessors, there was no room for insufficient respect downwards or excessive respect upwards. We all had to just deal with the challenges, accepting that some did so better than others.

When I read about Millennials and GenZs in the workplace and how impatient they are with so many of their bosses, I recall clearly how early in my career I knew by leadership style would be dramatically different from that of some of my much more instruction-giving bosses, relics of earlier eras – and often former army officers from during the Second World War.

Then there’s the whole onset of digitisation, with the transformation of relationships and now living one’s life through one’s phone. But does that mean we analogue oldies are stuck back in our antiquated silos? Do I not upload these columns to LinkedIn and Facebook, and chew away at my WhatsApp messages 24/7?

And what about the consequences of Covid, leading to the acceleration of the virtual world? Did I not get aboard the Skype and the Zoom and the TEAMS buses to survive in this 2st century? Of course I did. Like everyone around me of all generations I must be ever mindful of my e-traffic, knowing I am expected to be highly responsive. It’s very challenging, yes, but there’s no choice unless I am to just retire to the village and look after my goats.

Having said all that I must accept that digital natives – and in particular my grandson Githuku – play the role of inverted mentors to me, guiding me and sorting out my sticking points. What comes to him with easy intuition is often a struggle for me, but continuous learning by doing is the name of the game, keeping calm and assuming I will find my way through.

Have I been ahead of my times as a leader? I guess so. I was fortunate in that my father led Shell’s worldwide management training division in London as I was growing up, and this exposed me to the emerging styles of collaborative and adaptive leadership. It was the norm for Shell, and it became the norm for me. I have also always been a protocolophobic, insisting on just being called Mike and wanting to just call others by their first name too.

We must accept, however, that there are still so many tut-tutting baby-boomers and others who feel quite frustrated by the attitudes and behaviours of their juniors. And much of this is to do with how these juniors have also not learned ways of dealing with them by applying emotional intelligence. That’s what’s needed on both sides, so that we all get to win-win, rather than indulging in “I’m OK – You’re not OK” tussles.

Please keep a sober perspective on all this, assuming there are enjoyable ways of coexisting and realising the benefits of each background.

Last week I was invited to be one of the speakers at the launch of Manu Chandaria’s biography, From Success to Significance, and what an amazing event it was, where over 600 people were gathered to celebrate the life of this extraordinary man.

I opened my talk by saying it’s nearly half a century since I first met Manu, who at the time was already half a century old. He then had none of his current six honorary degrees, I noted, and he had no OBE and no CBS or EBS. But he was already a highly successful industrialist and philanthropist, having even by then achieved significance beyond success. I met him when I joined the Rotary Club of Nairobi in 1978, I said, which he had been a member of since 1963, becoming its president in 1982 – four years before I led the Club.

Kalonzo Musyoka was with us at the launch, and I described how in the late seventies I interacted with ‘young Steve’ as we called him then, adding that it’s so hard to imagine he’s now approaching seventy! I explained that our Rotary Club awarded him a post-graduate scholarship in Cyprus, following which he joined our club and was employed first by Kaplan & Stratton and then as the Legal Manager at Manu’s Comcraft.

I talked about Manu’s support for two of our club’s signature projects, both of which I was part of in their early years: the Rally for the Handicapped, as it was then called, which launched in 1979 and is now known as the Sunshine Rally, and the Rural Blindness Eradication Project, that began in 1985. Manu continues to be very active in our club, both with providing funding for many initiatives and in contributing to our WhatsApp group.

I then turned to Manu’s support for Business Member Organisations, and particularly with KEPSA, whose founder chairman he was in 2003, where I too was one of the founder directors. Anyang Nyong’o was in the room, and I pointed him out as the man who provoked its formation, as Minister of Planning. It was in February 2003, at a conference in Mombasa where David Ndii and Harris Mule launched the Economic Recovery Strategy, that Anyang Nyong’o took the private sector people present aside and challenged us to speak with one voice. Manu remains active with KEPSA, including as chairman of the board nominating committee, where I am also a member.

Next I talked about Manu as an enabler of universities, funding major buildings and having two of them appoint him as Chancellor, USIU and the Technical University of Kenya. Finally I drew attention to the way he professionalised his companies, in appointing external independent directors at an early stage – like the late Hannington Awori, whose brother Moody was with us – and also non-family members as senior managers. Plus the early establishment of the Chandaria Foundation, despite his father’s initial resistance.

I concluded by praising Manu as a family man, and by appreciating the child within him still being alive. He is what everyone sees: a low-key gentleman, an open listener, and – as Margaret Kenyatta writes in her foreword to the book – humble, kind and generous.

Kalonzo Musyoka was next to speak, and he described Manu as being like a father to him. At Comcraft he learned so much, about the art of negotiating, about putting people together, and so much more. And through Manu and Rotary he was introduced to “service above self”.

Musyoka then introduced Namgya Khampa, the Indian High Commissioner, who told us she has come to love Manu and leans on him for counsel as an elder, as he is also a good friend of India. “You are a hero, and we need more heroes,” she concluded.

Manu’s grand-daughter Nahema told us that Manu is one who rather than adding days to his life adds life to his days. He is everything to everyone when they are most in need, and does it with so much style. And Daystar University VC Prof Laban Ayiro informed us that Manu has been a great supporter of the Global Peace Foundation initiatives at Daystar. Prof. Ayiro was deeply involved in the preparation of the book, which he told us reveals the man behind the accolades.

I’ll end by describing that Manu talked about how to leave a legacy, by giving rather than receiving – which is what takes one from success to significance. He won’t be around forever, he readily admitted, but the Chandaria Foundation will remain, continuing to look after the community. Have I written enough to encourage you to read the book? I think so.

Dan and me in front of his Land Rover in Malawi, 1989

Tomorrow it will be 30 years since my son Dan was killed in Somalia at the age of 22. Dan was a Reuters photojournalist there and he, along with Hos Maina, Anthony Macharia and Hansi Kraus, was attacked with sticks and stones by an angry mob infuriated by the bombing from an American helicopter of a house in Mogadishu where a number of Somali leaders were meeting.

Yes, we knew Dan was operating in dangerous territory, but just as he was confident of his ability to thrive there, we too were hopeful that he would come to no harm.

He was having the time of his life, not only seeing his photos featured prominently in leading global newspapers and magazines — including a double-page spread in Newsweek — but also enjoying selling his T-shirts and postcards, and later a whole book of his photos to diplomats, American soldiers and others.

Dan also ventured into parts of Mogadishu where no one else dared go, including having fun with children, earning the nickname “The Mayor of Mogadishu”.

Dan was one of the media people on the beach who witnessed the cautious landing of the American troops, which became a source of ridicule.

Then, suddenly, this wonderful young man was gone. Who knows how his life would have unfolded had he remained with us?

What would he be up to now in his early 50s? I sometimes idly speculate about that, but mainly I keep focused on how he had been living and hardly on the tragic circumstances of his death.

These days it is not uncommon for funerals to be the “celebration of life” of the person who passed away, and this is how we remembered Dan at his service – which we held at Corner Baridi behind the Ngong Hills, on the land of the Maasai family whom Dan had been helping.

From then I have continued celebrating my son’s life, and the great influence he has had on me — and others — through his vibrant and positive inspiration.

After Dan died, I sought a way to immortalise the essence of Dan by developing the character of young people — something both he and I were active in our own ways.

What emerged was The Dan Eldon Place Of Tomorrow, The DEPOT, which we launched in 1994 as a centre for outdoor experiential learning for youth and evolved into broader management consulting.

Our ethos at The DEPOT reflects how Dan expected his life to unfold and also how I live mine. It is to “have a good time doing good things”, and looking back on our years together I know we reinforced each other in this regard.

There are two thoughts I, therefore, wish to leave you with. The first is that when a close relative passes away, yes it is a time to grieve, to feel sad about the loss of a wonderful person whom you loved dearly.

After my son was killed in Mogadishu, my mind naturally brooded on what happened then — and not least on the American helicopter that I learned hovered above the scene where he was being beaten to death and only landed to pick up his body.

But it turned out that I found it possible to instruct myself to switch away from all that and to focus on his wonderful life rather than on his awful death: on his delightful sense of humour, his artistic talent, his great sense of curiosity and adventure, his spirit of helping others.

From time to time when I talk with someone who has recently lost a close relative, I encourage them to write about the person, perhaps including through poetry, to celebrate their life and the relationship they enjoyed with them.

But also so the memories of the person and what they shared with them can be preserved. And finally, to act as therapy.

My second thought is to encourage all to assume that having a good time is absolutely compatible with doing good things.

Too many believe that doing good things in one’s work, important things, cannot be with a light touch. Not true, as Dan and I have found.

On the contrary, if you are enjoying what you are doing, and helping others to do so, much better outcomes will prevail.

All of us lose loved ones, and at whatever age they pass away we grieve. But pause to also celebrate their lives, and to reflect on how they have uplifted you.