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The Native Son

Almost exactly ten years ago I wrote a column here about the launch of Joe Wanjui’s book, The Native Son: Experiences of a Kenyan Entrepreneur. In it I described the enthusiasm around the event where, as I put it then, “speakers during the evening were so effusive about the author who was being fêted that when it was his turn to speak Joe wondered whether all the talk had been about someone else who just had the same name. Indeed had the man of the moment not been his usual alive, thoughtful and sparkling self, we could have been forgiven for imagining we were listening to the eulogies at his… well, you know what I mean.”

Sadly, a decade later it is indeed time to eulogise this wonderful gentleman, and I will do so by taking from my earlier article. Going back to the book launch, I described how it took place at the University of Nairobi, where Joe had recently completed his time as its Chancellor. Among those who talked about the man and his book we heard something of his rich family life from his friend Fr. Dominic Wamugunda and from his eldest daughter and two of his grandchildren. Others like Roger Steadman spoke of him as a successful entrepreneur and businessman.

Chief Guest George Magoha, then the University of Nairobi’s Vice Chancellor, talked about the leader who for almost a decade was his Chancellor. “He found us as professors, thinking in truncated mode,” confessed the institution’s CEO, adding proudly “but now we are university managers.” In the same vein the Vice Chancellor noted that under Joe’s influence the CEO position he filled was sourced competitively, a pioneering and controversial approach for such institutions at the time.

Joe was absolutely for meritocratic appointments, independent of ethnic background, we heard. He brought entrepreneurs into the Council, and he encouraged other businesslike practices. In concluding, Prof. Magoha described Joe as a true friend, “telling you what you don’t want to hear… and then taking you to lunch afterwards”.

As for me, I wrote, I thoroughly enjoyed all my interactions with Joe. I’ve known him since a year after I arrived in Kenya in 1977, when I joined the Rotary Club of Nairobi. Ten years before that Joe was proposed as the first African member of the club, and in 1974 he became its first African president. In his book he revealed that he continued to support our Rotary Club and its noble ideal, as he actively supported so many other worthy causes. Which is why just recently he was made an Honorary Member of our club.

In The Native Son, Joe wrote about becoming a member of the Kenya Institute of Management’s first Governing Council in 1969. By the time I was elected to chair its council in 2000 he was KIM’s National Chairman, or patron, in which capacity he was always available to me as a source of sound advice, I remembered. It was during that time that he and I organised several Chief Executives’ Forums, a concept Joe described in his book as akin to a “mini Davos”. What a great experience it was.

In my earlier article I also mentioned Joe’s valuable contributions to KEPSA, where in its infancy he became the private sector umbrella body’s most active elder and a strong supporter. I was one of KEPSA’s founding directors, and at one of our retreats I had arranged for a presentation to be made on the emerging Brand Kenya project. Joe was present at the event and promptly offered to organise a presentation to President Kibaki, that led to the initiative being propelled to its national position.

For well over three decades I have sat with Joe at many meetings and shared many platforms with him, I wrote, enjoying the benefit of both his wisdom and his wit. To be with him you know you will be with someone who is pragmatic, straightforward and solution-oriented; and, just as important for me, someone with whom you always also expect to share a good laugh.

He was further building his foundation to promote the education of women scientists, I mentioned, and he continued as a director of major institutions in this country. Here’s how I concluded: “I salute the man who grew up feeling disrespected by the colonials as a mere ‘native’ but who emerged a proud native son of Kenya.”

Today I conclude by stating how privileged I feel that I had the opportunity to interact with Joe Wanjui in so many contexts and over so many years. He leaves a great void.

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.

Evolution of philanthropy and CSR

In today’s world more and more firms from SMEs upward – never mind publicly quoted ones – have taken corporate social responsibility as a natural component in how they operate.

For some, it came more naturally than for others. For those where owners’ and directors’ values resonated with being responsible citizens, it was an easy evolution, one they felt good about.

Applying my colleague and friend Prof Michael Hopkins’ CSR definition of “treating all key stakeholders responsibly” (he and I, together with prof Mike Sacks, are co-founders of the Institute for Responsible Leadership) was not a bridge too far. Indeed, their values were such that “saying no when they should” and “treating others as they would wish to be treated themselves” is how they were probably brought up from an early age.

For others with weak consciences though, these are alien concepts that would prevent them from closing the kind of shady deals that keep them in business.

They’re quite OK with incenting beneficiaries at the purchasing end, exploiting their workers, creating a negative impact on the environment, evading tax payments and so forth.

Unfortunately, we live in a society where impunity is rampant, so corporate social irresponsibility is still widespread.

Those organisations that typically invite me to join their boards or to act as a consultant to them are overwhelmingly the ones in the first category.

It’s those who are ahead of the game, in CSR as in talent management, innovation and elsewhere, who know they can still do yet better in their quest for long-term sustainability.

It is of course such organisations with which I want to be associated, and if I am asked by the other kind to engage with them I politely decline, saying I am already too busy.

What have I and others found? (And here I am not talking about public companies.) Most if not all have been making contributions to good causes from time immemorial.

It’s what we used to call charity, typically “helping the needy in society”, and very likely with one-off donations in response to urgent requirements, whether in cash or kind and including volunteering. At the higher end, philanthropy goes deeper to address the root cause of social issues and requires a more strategic, long-term approach, with advocacy sometimes an additional component.

The original meaning of charity, “Christian love of one’s fellow,” is rooted in Late Old English, while philanthropy, or “the love of humanity,” originated in Greek. When “charity” entered the English lexicon by way of Old French’s “charité”, the meaning evolved into what we know today.

Meanwhile, the practice of modern philanthropy is often credited to titans of industry like Henry Ford, John D. Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie, all of whom launched their Foundations to make the world a better place.

Henry Ford explicitly wanted to reduce poverty in his country, as among the consequences would be that more people could buy his company’s cars. And here in Kenya our philanthropy role model is Manu Chandaria and his family, with their Chandaria Foundation.

Dr Chandaria was recently in America, where he was the first African to receive the Carnegie Medal of Philanthropy.

In his acceptance speech he revealed that having returned from his university studies in the US, early in the life of the still small family business owned and run by his father, he suggested they set up their Chandaria Foundation to help Kenyan communities – having been inspired by the example of Ford, Rockefeller and Carnegie.

His father at first thought this to be premature, but after a few years, he acquiesced as his son Manu persuaded him that it was indeed a worthy initiative to be “givers” who are useful to society by serving the community and not just by writing a cheque.

Since then the Chandaria Foundation has blossomed into a major supporter of healthcare infrastructure, secondary and higher education, poverty relief, and the environment.

So that’s something about philanthropy. Now to conclude this article, back to CSR, and this by way of a link to my next one, where I will be delving into the latest trends in CSR and how it relates to ESG (the Environmental, Social and Governance dimensions) and the SDGs (the Sustainable Development Goals).

Life is becoming far more ambitious and complicated in these areas, and organisations from the bottom up – not merely for-profit ones – must keep up to date with what is expected of them. Back in a fortnight.