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Francis Okello’s journey from the lakeshore to the boardroom

Francis Okello has just launched his autobiography, titled CONCERT OF LIFE – From the Lakeshore to the Boardroom, and what a story it is. Like so many of our most prominent Kenyans, his life began in a village. But his ancestors were anything but simple. On the contrary, Okello traces his Luo lineage back several centuries, to South Sudan, with so many who preceded him being Chiefs and in other significant positions. A tremendous amount of research has gone into spelling out the specifics of it all.

The next section of the autobiography goes into his childhood in a small village, Nyangera Daho, on the shores of Lake Victoria (Nam Lolwe), where his disciplinarian father enjoyed his 16 wives, of whom Okello’s mother was one, and their 33 children. His father, a respectable Chief of sound values, was of great positive influence on him and his brothers and sisters. Much more on his education follows, climaxing at the “intellectual cauldron” of the University of Dar, and on to Princeton University in America.

Since then Okello has spent more five decades in various sectors of Kenya’s economy, including prominent positions in banking, media, tourism, energy, manufacturing, infrastructure, education, and not-for-profits, as well as youth empowerment, environmental stewardship and policy formulation. Through this he contributed to the evolution of the private sector and its role in the country’s economic development, and his book explores the intersection of politics, economics, law and culture that shaped his perspectives and influenced the organisations with which he became associated.

I now wish to share with you something about his engagement with the Nation Media Group (NMG), one of his several within the Aga Khan Development Network. It began in 1989, when he was invited to become a non-executive director of Nation Newspapers Ltd, and evolved in 1995 when he joined the main Nation Media Group Board as the Chairman of its Editorial Board Committee, which position he held since its inception in 1995 till he retired in 2024.

It was in this capacity that I got to know Okello, as we used to be together for the few years when then CEO Linus Gitahi hosted us columnists every couple of months or so for an exchange of views. NMG chairman Dr. Wilfred Kiboro and Okello were with us from the board, and each of those meetings was intellectually stimulating.

Okello has an interesting section on the relationship between the media and the state, which is often characterised by tension. The media is supposed to hold those in leadership to account, preventing it from being too comfortable with the state. But it must also maintain a working relationship of mutual respect with those in power, he points out, one that is managed responsibly and is in the interest of the larger public.

In its game of survival, the media must be sensitive to the politics of the day, neither capitulating to authority nor being too soft. He remembers Uhuru Kenyatta’s displeasure in referring to newspapers as being “only good for wrapping meat”, and these days we worry about Trump’s pressure on his domestic media to be nice to him.

In the 2007/8 post-electoral violence Okello played a supportive role in the work of Concerned Citizens for Peace (CCP), where I was the member representing the private sector. He wanted to see what NMG could do to help restore peace. So wearing his two hats, one for NMG, the other as chairman of Serena Hotels, he and then Group CEO Linus Gitahi, drove to Serena Hotel where they met with some of the CCP leaders. They decided to help us by covering our initial expenses, including for our meeting room there, which later became called the Amani Room.

Okello concludes his book by outlining the leadership challenges and lessons from his life. He tells us we must accept that we live in a VUCA (Volatile Uncertain Complex and Ambiguous) world; that we need patience, agility and resilience; and we must be curious and willing to learn – including from our children and grandchildren. We mustn’t shy away from challenges, like giving high level talks, accepting high level responsibilities in domains we are less than familiar with; and we must be willing to serve.

He calls on us to nurture enduring relationships, and places a premium on integrity, diligence and discipline. Share knowledge, he encourages – including through the Leaders Circle meetings which I co-host and about whose sessions I have written several columns here and where Okello is an active participant. And adopt an interdisciplinary approach to problem solving, noting that “a Jack of all trades is master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one”. At strategic leadership levels, he insists, generalists are to be preferred over specialists. He argues a case for us to be intentional in becoming polymaths. I related to his assertion that the leader should be like the conductor, who plays no instrument but guides the ensemble to play in harmony. Hence the title presumably, CONCERT OF LIFE.

Finally, let me refer to the forewords by Willy Mutunga and Sunny Bindra, who each wrote very positively about Okello, including referring to his integrity and modesty. That is the Okello I also know and respect.

Confronting inequality through volunteering

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.

ChatGPT on Adam Grant

Having lost an article I’d written about three of Adam Grant’s books, I asked an AI-ologist friend to find it in my laptop. Unfortunately he couldn’t, so instead he kindly asked ChatCPT to write it on my behalf. He fed thirty of my past columns into the app so it could get a feel for my style, and then gave it this prompt: “Extract the style of Mike Eldon from the document and use it to analyse the books of Adam Grant listed above.” Here’s what emerged with the usual AI speed…

On Being Bold, Humble, and Human: Adam Grant’s Lessons for Kenya Today

In my years of working with Kenyan leaders, teachers, youth groups, and executives – from Kisumu to Kilifi – I’ve often found myself returning to one quiet question: Can kindness survive the pressures of performance? Can empathy and ambition walk together? Adam Grant seems to think so. And as I reflect on his ideas, I find echoes of our local struggles, and, our quiet triumphs.

Take for example the idea that we should learn to “think again” – to unlearn, to remain curious, to admit we might be wrong. This, I find, is deeply counter-cultural in many Kenyan institutions, where hierarchy can freeze dialogue and where a title sometimes carries more weight than an idea. But I’ve also seen young professionals in Nairobi tech hubs and rural community organizations challenge outdated assumptions, ask better questions, and surprise even themselves. As Grant reminds us: intellectual humility isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.

Then there’s the myth of raw talent. In a country where exam results define futures and where brilliance is often measured by a grade, Grant’s notion of hidden potential is both refreshing and liberating. He tells us that coachability, not credentials, is the true predictor of greatness. And indeed, I’ve witnessed it – an overlooked intern in a county office who becomes an indispensable problem-solver; a high school dropout in Kakamega who leads her peers in microenterprise. What they needed wasn’t a head start. It was someone to believe in their stretch.

But belief isn’t enough – we must also act. In Give and Take, Grant distinguishes between takers, matchers, and givers. I thought about this as I mentored a young NGO leader struggling with burnout. She was giving too much. Yet, Grant reminds us, being a giver isn’t about being a martyr—it’s about sustainable service. In Kenya, where communal responsibility often collides with individual limits, this is a vital lesson. Generosity needs boundaries. Philanthropy needs self-care.

One of Grant’s most profound collaborations is Option B, which speaks to resilience after tragedy. And here, we need not look far. From post-election trauma to pandemic loss, Kenyans carry many invisible wounds. I think of teachers who show up after personal grief, boda boda riders who persist after injury, single mothers in Mathare who rise each day with quiet strength. Option B gives us language for their courage and, more importantly, tools for healing. In it, Grant and Sheryl Sandberg offer what I would call structured empathy—a kind of practical compassion we need more of in our workplaces and homes.

Finally, Originals is perhaps the most Kenyan of all the books—though not in the way you might think. We are a deeply creative people. From handmade jikos to high-tech startups, we are natural innovators. But what Grant does is dignify the slow-burning rebel, the one who doubts before they disrupt. He teaches us that being original isn’t about being loud—it’s about being committed. This lesson could guide many a changemaker in our counties and ministries.

Adam Grant is not writing for Kenyans, and yet, his work reads like a mirror. It reflects our potential, our mistakes, our hopes. It challenges us to lead without ego, to mentor without condescension, to grieve without shame, and to grow without limits.

What I take from Grant, and what I hope others do too, is this: Success isn’t what you have; it’s what you share. Leadership isn’t dominance; it’s dialogue. Progress isn’t perfection; it’s permission—to rethink, relearn, and rise again.

In Kenya today—where we hunger for ethical leadership, where our youth brim with restless energy, and where communities demand both dignity and development – Grant’s work reminds us to remain bold enough to speak, humble enough to listen, and human enough to feel.

So there it is – very thoughtful and articulate, although not fully a reflection of my style. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll have another go at the topic myself, using my human intelligence.

To my grandchildren: how you can lead a happy and fulfilled life

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 Dunning-Kruger effect

I’ve been reading an article by Carmine Gallo from the January 2020 edition of the Harvard Business Review (HBR) about how the best CEOs are the ones who know they can improve their skills further, not least their communication skills, particularly through coaching.

Exactly what I have found in my work as a consultant.

The HBR article refers to the Dunning-Kruger effect, and explains it by stating that “people who are mediocre at certain things often think they are better than they actually are, and therefore fail to grow and improve. Great leaders, on the other hand, are great for a reason – they recognize their weaknesses and seek to get better.”

The Dunning-Kruger effect is described as a “cognitive bias”, in which people with limited competence in a particular domain overestimate their abilities. It was first described by David Dunning and Justin Kruger in 1999, and it has since become very well known. It is usually measured by comparing self-assessment with objective performance. For example, participants take a quiz and estimate their performance afterwards, and this is then compared to their actual results.

The original study focused on logical reasoning, grammar and social skills. But other studies have been conducted across a wide range of tasks, including from business, politics, medicine, driving, aviation, spatial memory, examinations in school and literacy, and they all found this over-estimation phenomenon exhibited by significant numbers. I should add that under-estimation is also present in some, leading to the “imposter syndrome” narrative, about which I have also written.

In earlier articles of mine here I have explored various aspects of this subject, including ones about the relationship between competence and confidence. Here, I have suggested, it is particularly politicians – in Kenya and around the world – whose confidence greatly exceeds their competence, and I selected former British Prime Minister Liz Truss as a fine example.

I quoted an article in the London Times about her, whose headline read: “Truss proves talent-free bluster isn’t just for men”. And its opening paragraph told us she broke one of the last glass ceilings – not as the first female Prime Minister in her country, for she was not, but as “the first woman to reach the highest office propelled by gargantuan self-belief alone”.

Why is there this bias to over-estimating one’s capabilities – or indeed in others to under-estimate them? The simple answer is lack of self-awareness. Such people lack an objective view of their strengths and weaknesses, and do not seek feedback from those with whom they interact to align their perceptions with reality. And who would be particularly well-placed to open them up to such gaps? Coaches.

Coaching is at the centre of my consulting work, where I seek to create a safe space in which the person being coached feels comfortable revealing vulnerabilities they had previously kept to themselves or had not even been aware of. My role is to help them identify areas for potential development, and then work with them to fill the gaps and so to be at their best.

What I have observed over the years is that those most in need of coaching are likely to least want it, imagining they just don’t need such support. They have a false sense of both competence and confidence that anyway would render them uncoachable. Those who reach out to me for support are overwhelmingly the ones who are already ahead of the game, as Gallo also found. They expect to be able to continuously improve and to do so, seeking ongoing feedback that it is actually happening.

So let me ask you how self-aware you are. Indeed, how sure are you that your perception of the extent of your self-awareness aligns with that of those around you, whether in the family, socially or professionally? At whatever age and level age you are, I urge you to carry out a “health-check” on where this stands between very low and very high.

Wherever you are, as Gallo and I have both found, there is most likely to be scope for being coached to rise further. There may be good coaches within your organisation, including your immediate boss, a board member or others, but there may be benefits to seeking an external coach – who will have no axe to grind within the organisation.

Finally, just as it’s helpful to be coached, surely you could and should also be a coach. Indeed contemporary leadership requires a coaching mindset as a key component in how one operates in that capacity.

Please seek a quiet space in which to reflect on what you have just read, and decide what action to take.

Rebellious teenagers: generational overgeneralisations

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.

Boards and culture

I’ve been asked to run another session on the importance of boards focusing on the culture of the organisations where they are directors. So as I sat down with my blank screen I decided to concentrate my mind on the subject in poetic form, boiling it down to its essence. Here’s what emerged.

Too often as I sit on boards
I hear my colleagues silent on this topic
of culture.
They’re so concerned with
compliance, oversight and risk,
as stern parents expecting to slap the wrists
of their irresponsible children.

Their time horizons are limited
to the last and next quarters –
OK, at a stretch to a whole year –
and they focus on hammering
weaknesses and threats,
with not enough attention paid
to opportunities and aspirations,
passions and strengths.

They sub-optimise to the short-term,
not bothering about longer-term sustainability,
while proudly imagining they are
champions of good governance.

People tell us that
“culture eats strategy for breakfast”,
But no – it’s not either/or,
not a zero-sum game.
There must be a culture strategy
within an overall one,
where they integrate together and synergise.

But what is culture, anyway?
It’s “the way we do things round here”.
It’s the way we behave,
as a reflection of our attitudes
and beneath that of our values.
And how we behave either makes us
more or less happy, engaged… and productive.

So how do we influence behaviour patterns,
ones that have long been the norm?
How do we celebrate uplifting behaviour
and keep it going?

Much more challenging, how do we
get rid of dysfunctional behaviour,
knowing that comfort zones will be exceeded?
We must expand those comfort zones,
fill them with excitement rather than anxiety
about that new future,
allowing it to shine.

We must nurture both
competence and confidence,
having them in balance
within themselves and with each other.

Are we humble enough,
but not excessively so?
Do we align our confidence with our humility,
knowing we are not a
know-it-all,
asking much more than telling?

So let’s get going with change management,
shall we, aware that most such initiatives fail dismally?
Why do they? So many reasons!
Lots are top-down,
led by those shielded from reality
through their iceberg of ignorance.

They rush in without getting to root causes,
without hearing from the ground.
They don’t focus enough on what the purpose is,
then all-too-quickly fade out,
as everyone gets too busy once again.

So be prepared to invest good time.
Go both top-down and bottom-up,
relentlessly keeping to the “why?”,
to the “so what?”, the consequences.

Make sure there are quick-wins to encourage you,
while accepting that other battles will take longer.
Celebrate the champions,
nudge the resisters to catch up,
and above all be role models yourselves.

Keep reviewing, keep reviewing
at all levels – horizontally and vertically –
with standing agenda items at meetings.
Share good stories,
adapt the change as needed,
see how others do such work.

Make the new culture the new enjoyable norm
that attracts good stakeholders to you
and holds them on to you,
so that they in turn attract
other good ones around them.

Do you ever write poetry? If not, try it, and if it exceeds your comfort zone, relax and expand it. I find it concentrates my mind and makes me smile – not least if I have used it to vent about something or someone awful that has happened, or to celebrate some good news. Have a go!

Before closing let me mention that this is my 275th column in this paper, and also that I understand I’m the longest running writer here. It’s the first article I’ve written as a poem, and very likely the last!

Invest in communicating well

As I interact with different kinds of people, in one-on-ones or group sessions, in board meetings or workshops, I am exposed to bright sparks who speak too quickly. And as I listen to them I speculate on why they’re breaking the vocal speed limits.

My first thought is that the root cause of the fast speaking is fast thinking: needing to speak at a pace that keeps up with the speed at which their scripts are being formulated upstairs. Others, however, rush through what they have to say because they don’t want to occupy too much of our time, or are actually bound by a time limit and don’t want to miss anything out.

Whatever the reason, the consequence is that they leave us panting with exhaustion as we try to keep up with their jet-propelled outpourings. Their speed also takes away from their gravitas, leading us to see them as less senior than we otherwise would. A slower pace, with appropriate pauses too, would both help us absorb and up our image of them as people of presence and poise.

Then there are those who speak too softly, so we can hardly hear them. Maybe although we can’t even figure out some of what they’re saying we don’t want to upset them by keeping on asking them to repeat what they’d said and to kindly speak up. What’s the mindset that delivers these whisperers? From what I have observed they are often people of humility – or what I describe as “excess humility”. They don’t wish to be perceived as noise-makers, trumpet-blarers, and swing to the other end of the volume spectrum.

Other categories of those whose speech we find challenging include ones who insufficiently open their mouths to utter the vowels between their consonants; those who avoid eye contact; and those who indulge in what is called “verbal ticks” – repeated and unnecessary use of “you know”, “sort of”, “like”, and ending sentences with “right?” Plus the “um” and the “er” utterers.

Most of these people just aren’t aware of what makes them less effective communicators than they could be. Probably no one has ever given them feedback, coached them, or encouraged them. Some have had their shortcoming pointed out to them, but they’re so accustomed to how they have always spoken that it’s just proved too hard to change — plus they underestimate the negative consequences of not doing so.

So as I come across the too-fast and the too-soft and other sub-optimisers, I sometimes approach them after the session to chat with them about how they could up their game: what they could do differently, and with what positive consequences. I also have them explore the root causes of speaking as they are doing, to help them overcome whatever psychological or other factors holding them back from being at their best.

If I have the opportunity to see them in action again, where they know I am watching and listening intently, they may try harder and then I can give them specific – and hopefully by then positive – feedback. I talk with them about rising through the four stages of their adaptation, from unconscious incompetence to conscious incompetence, then conscious competence and finally unconscious competence – the new normal, where they no longer have to think about the adjustment.

A few years ago I wrote an article about how communicating clearly is a core competence, at all levels but more so at the higher ones. Yet too many fall far short, lacking self-awareness and the need for improvement.

What about you? Are you communicating as well as you could? Should you be seeking feedback? Should you be getting help to up your game, so that you can enjoy the benefits of being the new optimal you?

Be conscious of how those around you communicate, and as you come across the speed merchants, the whisperers and others who aren’t performing at their best, see if you can find a way to help them. Not everyone’s up for it, but you should be able to judge who is, and then to engage with emotional intelligence so they don’t feel offended.

Needless to say, the one whose communication you should be most conscious of is yourself. Find a way of listening to and observing yourself – including through studying video recordings of you – and assume the possibility of continuous improvement.

My son Dan and me, 30 years on

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.

Smiling with customers

As in my last article, this one again focuses on customer engagement – or rather lack thereof.

The previous one found me in a hospital setting, coaching the man who had just managed me through enduring a CT scan – but without any accompanying human touch.

Happily, he reacted positively to my coaching, and I’d like to think he now delivers much less stressful customer experiences.

Today I want to tell you about a recent interaction with the lady in a printing and photocopying shop, whom I will not identify by her actual name but refer to as Gladys.

From the outset, as I entered she looked miserable and also behaved in a way that matched her gloomy expression. I greeted her with a smile to try and soften her grimness but to no avail.

“Why are you looking so miserable?” I asked her, not threateningly, just encouragingly, with a light touch. No change. On the contrary, the barrier between us was merely reinforced.

As Gladys worked on my printing I had another go at helping her into a more positive frame of mind, explaining that as a consultant I support firms to become more customer-focused.

Like it’s nice to give customers a smile,” I suggested. Forget it. Not a hint of one. Oh dear, an extreme case, with who knows what root cause. I felt really sorry for her, and it reinforced my desire to cheer her up.

As I was suggesting that smiling at customers is a good idea, another client was just leaving the shop, a lady from some European country by her accent, who overheard my comment.

“That’s totally unacceptable,” she fumed, obviously finding my suggestion to have been politically incorrect beyond redemption.

Was it a manifestation of the contemporary “woke” phenomenon, where one must be hypersensitive about anything one says?

Did she see it as none of my business to influence her mood? Was I harassing her?

Why was she so outraged, having merely caught that small element among our earlier interactions? I decided the best thing to do was to ignore her, which I did.

I’ve no idea what effect if any it had on Gladys, who now asked me why I had described her as looking miserable.

“Because that’s how you looked, and I was trying to cheer you up,” I replied. Sullen silence from her. This was clearly going nowhere, such an unusual encounter for me.

I paid, collected my papers and left, reflecting on this unhappy episode with the two women. What could I have done differently to release Gladys from her obstinate grumpiness?

Should I have been less ambitious – just let her be her uncommunicative and uncooperative self, as I had seen her with another customer too?

What a contrast to her predecessor, who couldn’t do enough to provide cheerful service to me and her other customers.

The consequence of this encounter was that I didn’t want to return, but rather find somewhere else to get my printing and copying done, however less convenient the location – somewhere I could enjoy my visit and my relationship with those serving me while getting my work done.

Later in the day, I met a nice quote from Mother Theresa, which made me feel better about my efforts to help Gladys: “We shall never know all the good that a simple smile can do.”

Then a couple of days later I made a call to a courier company where the agent who assisted me told me her name was Mona Lisa.

“How lovely,” I commented, telling her I assumed she knew about Da Vinci’s portrait of the Mona Lisa, world-famous down the ages for her tantalising smile.

She did, so then I quoted Mother Theresa’s lovely line about the good that a smile can do, and we enjoyed a great laugh together, as she wished me a good afternoon.

Sadly, I don’t think that either Gladys or her self-appointed defender would have been interested in any of this, and maybe all I can conclude is that we are in a world of diverse characters, some cheerful and some gloomy; some self-righteous wrist-slappers and others wondering how careful they need to be in these days of political correctness.

How did you react to this story? With whom did you align? What advice do you have for me, for Gladys and for the woke lady?

PS I decided to write to the head-office director of the printing firm about Gladys, saying she needed help.

He thanked me for doing so, saying he’d look into it. As a result, I’m delighted to confirm that Gladys is now transformed, so I look forward to returning to the outlet… and to exchanging smiles with Gladys.