Aliko Dangote is a man revered for his remarkable achievements in business and his passion for his country. As I wait patiently in his office at Union Marble House, in the plush Lagos suburb of Ikoyi, an inscribed plaque catches my eye. Before I can read it, I hear a man’s voice.
“Nothing is impossible. That is my mantra in life. No matter what you go through, just remember, nothing is impossible for you to achieve and you will overcome it.”
Dangote, Africa’s richest man and the founder of Dangote Group, is dressed in a blue suit and purple tie. His demeanor is warm and welcoming, his gaze attentive. It is hard to believe this soft-spoken man is worth an estimated $14.4 billion, according to FORBES. Despite this wealth, the plaque in his office serves as a reminder of a day he almost lost everything. It all began with a wrong soil test.
“We were importing cement and we had an import terminal in Lagos and Port Harcourt. The government gave incentives to people who will make Nigeria self-sufficient in cement and so we decided to take advantage of the opportunity and build a cement plant. At the time, the entire production of Nigeria was less than two million tons but we decided that we were going to go ahead and build a [plant with] five million tons capacity,” says Dangote.
<div id="attachment_5094" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5094" class="size-medium wp-image-5094" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/aliko-dangote-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />Founder and Chief Executive of the Dangote Group Aliko Dangote gestures during an interview with Reuters in his office in Lagos, June 13, 2012. Picture taken June 13, 2012 REUTERS/Akintunde Akinleye (NIGERIA &#8211; Tags: BUSINESS) &#8211; RTR37GOU</div>
“So we brought in a contractor and we asked them to do the soil test and also the foundation test. Then they gave us the wrong soil test. Normally the northern part of Nigeria has very hard ground. But they came back and said we just needed a shallow foundation with a maximum of two meters. So the drawing and everything was done based on a two-meter foundation. As soon as we were three months into the job we realized it was more than this.”
This marked the beginning of a long battle to salvage the multi-million-dollar project. The group had hedged everything on the cement factory. In order to stay ahead of the competition, Dangote decided not to do a proper feasibility study so as to avoid attention to the new project. That decision came at a high cost.
“So now we had to go and do piling. We had to stop and change all the drawings and all of a sudden we were faced with 1,000 piles to be built and there were not enough rigs in Nigeria. So we had to order new rigs and even buy rigs for some of the contractors,” says Dangote.
To make matters worse, Dangote needed to finance the project.
“We needed to raise $480 million but the problem was 90 percent of the banks at the time had a market capital of only $20 million. In addition, there were no long-term loans, only short-term loans for about 90 days, so you could tell the challenge we faced. The project stopped, we had to change the drawings and we could not borrow too much money in the system. Borrowing short term and investing in a long-term business was so difficult.”
Another problem was infrastructure.
“We realized that we had to build a gas pipeline because the government who promised to build the pipeline in 1978 had actually not done anything, so we had to construct 92 kilometers of a gas pipeline. The water table was very bad in the area so we had to build a dam and over 100 houses because there was nothing there, so the challenges were coming one by one.”
For Dangote, failure was not an option.
“In my office, I had the project drawings on my wall but I knew that once this project fails the group is gone and that is what really kept me going. It was a major project for us because our size, compared to a project of half a billion then, was big money for us.”
Eventually, there was light at the end of the tunnel. The group received a much-needed lifeline in the form of a $479-million loan from a consortium of banks, led by the International Finance Corporation (IFC). But the storm hadn’t abated yet.
“The most challenging was when we had the cost overrun. Now we had finished the cement factory and the factory was not working and that was really when I went from black to red. I knew that we were really in trouble. But we were very adamant and we persevered. We had challenges for over a year or so and the factory was working on and off,” he says.
That was in 2003. Since then, the Dangote Group has expanded into 18 countries in sub-Saharan Africa as well as Nepal. This year, Dangote plans to take on a new challenge, the volatile oil market.
“We have been pushed into oil because we realized that we had too much cash for the type of business that we are running today, so we need to diversify. On the diversification strategy, we look at what the areas are that can actually take Nigerians to the next level and that is where we map out all the issues and the problems that we are facing as a country for lack of diversifying the economy.”
The group is building one of the largest oil refineries in the country with the potential to meet Nigeria’s requirement of 445,000 to 550,000 barrels of fuel, with spare capacity to export, according to Dangote. The project has an estimated completion date of 2018.
As we wrap up the interview, Dangote’s gaze goes back to the plaque on his table.
“It was a challenging experience and that is why I have the plaque on the table saying nothing is impossible. You need tenacity and focus in business. I have learned a lot and since that time I don’t really get scared of anything.”

“I Knew That We Were Really  In Trouble”

In the heart of Lagos, the Rose of Sharon Glorious Ministry International is home to an intimate congregation who meet every Tuesday for fellowship and prayer. They are dedicated to a common purpose, to serve God, a vision which has remained intact since its founder, Folorunsho Alakija, made a pact with God decades ago.
“I don’t think I could have got this far if I had not entered into a covenant with God. It was 25 years since I gave my life to Christ. I entered into an agreement that if he would bless me I would serve him all the days of my life,” says Alakija.
The ministry is one of many ways Alakija is keeping her promise to God. Another is through her work with the Rose of Sharon Foundation, a not-for-profit providing care, financial support and scholarships for widows and orphans. In return, God has kept his side of the bargain.
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Alakija is worth a staggering $1.73 billion according to Forbes, making her the fourth richest person in Nigeria and second richest woman in Africa behind Isabel dos Santos. She is the Vice Chair of Nigerian oil exploration company, Famfa Oil, which shares a joint partnership agreement with international giants Chevron and Petrobras. With a 60% stake of block OML 127 of the Agbami field, one of Nigeria’s largest deepwater discoveries, Famfa Oil produces approximately 250,000 barrels of crude per day, according to Alakija. Having just turned 65 in July, Alakija has a lot to be thankful for. She is blessed with a dedicated husband, four sons and grandchildren. Alakija’s feet are firmly on the ground but her journey to becoming one of Forbes’ 100 most powerful women in the world began with an encounter 36,000 feet above sea level.
“I met a friend of mine on a flight on my way to England and she asked me if I could help her partners to be able to lift crude oil from Nigeria. So I called around and set up an appointment with the petroleum minister but he discouraged me. He said are these people willing to invest in Nigeria because the government did not want to encourage more foreigners to come and lift its crude. I asked my friend who said they didn’t want to invest in Nigeria and that was the end of that,” says Alakija.
With that, the new oil opportunity came to an end. But her dogged determination transformed this negative conclusion into one of the most renowned success stories to come from Africa. This tenacity began at an early age.
“I come from a Muslim background and it was a polygamous lifestyle. My father had eight wives and 52 children. All the wives had to cooperate with each other. To them that was how life was, they cooperated with one another, they quarrelled and made up again, most of us were living under one roof in private bedrooms, I think about four floors of a building, in the heart of Lagos Island,” says Alakija.
Born into a family of traders, Alakija cut her teeth in the textiles trade while still a child.
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“My siblings and I used to help my mum in the store and that is where we learned a lot about textiles, textures, colors, patterns and merchandizing. That is where I learned all the practical steps that I later on applied to my fashion business.”
The fashion business came after her stint in the corporate banking world. After qualifying as a secretary in Britain, a place where she also went to school from the age of seven to eleven, Alakija worked as an executive secretary with the bank, Sijuade Enterprises, in Lagos for a year and a half before joining the International Merchant Bank of Nigeria.
“I joined them as a secretary and I was there for about 12 years. I was promoted to other departments of the bank, including heading the corporate affairs department. From there I moved into proper banking, working in the treasury department. I loved it because I was trading with the bank’s money to make money for the bank. Later on, the bank was expanding and they started putting extra cogs between the wheels to ensure that people did not get promoted too fast to get to top positions within the bank. So I asked myself, ‘how long will it take me to get from a treasury officer to a general manager?’” says Alakija.
She quit her job and decided to study fashion design. She enrolled in the American College in London as well as the Central School of Fashion where she obtained a distinction. Immediately after that, Supreme Stitches was born and Alakija became renowned for her haute couture range, which was worn by women around the world.
Alakija says divine intervention persuaded her to rename her fashion business.
“I rebranded to Rose of Sharon House of Fashion because God gave me a revelation that I needed to change the name. It was a revelation initially given through a pastor but I decided I was not going to change it until I heard from God myself. I had a dream a year after the prophecy was given and I saw the new name on the body of my van in the dream and I changed it overnight,” says Alakija.
Then came her foray into printing. Alakija established the Rose of Sharon Prints and Promotions, as well as Digital Reality Prints.
“I wanted a new challenge; I was getting bored of the fashion business… the [printing] business did well for the first couple of years before it got into trouble,” she says.
The Lagos State government clamped down on the printing business because billboards were clogging up the skyline. Sales for her fledgling business plummeted.
“At some point when I went abroad, I saw some printing machines and realized that those were the similar kind of machines I had been shown in [a] dream but those were for offset. I went into the wrong type of printing out of disobedience and ignorance. I misunderstood and I was excited with the large format machines so I didn’t do too much homework into trying to find out more about the pictures that I saw in my dream. So I eventually got into the offset printing five years ago. And it’s been a success. We started out with 30 people and now we have about 100 employees,” says Alakija.
There was a smooth transition from the fashion business into mass-produced t-shirts. Demand for monograms, screen-printing and picture transfers on t-shirts increased. The company set up four departments, including a souvenirs department where they imported souvenirs and gift items from China. Ever the entrepreneur, Alakija was still on the lookout for the next big thing.
Alakija’s encounter with her friend on the flight to England was fortuitous. After her friend decided not to invest in the Nigerian oil industry, Alakija decided to make use of her new contact, Maryam Babaginda. Maryam was the wife of Ibrahim Babaginda, the former president of Nigeria under military rule. As a customer of Supreme Stitches, Maryam was able to secure another appointment for Alakija with the petroleum minister, Jubril Aminu.
“I went back and told the petroleum minister that I would like to render other services, like catering for the oil industry. He said there were already so many caterers on board, various ships on the high seas, and as a result, there were no opportunities available.”
Although disappointed, Alakija did not give up. She decided to do some more homework. After consultations with a close relative who worked for the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), she was advised to offer transportation services for the petroleum industry. It took a long time to get another meeting with Aminu.
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“I finally got another opportunity and I wrote an official letter saying I would like to offer transportation services to the oil sector. The minister’s feedback was he didn’t think it was a good idea because the government would soon be doing away with the trucks that were being used to transport crude oil and replace them with a lot more pipelines instead. So I said ‘what am I going to ask for now?’”
“He said ‘why don’t you think of exploration?’. He said the government wants to put the resources of its land in the hands of its nationals, because it feels that it is about time that Nigerians begin to exploit its own resources rather than let multinationals continue to take away our wealth. I had given up at this point. I thought he was being sarcastic and he didn’t want to help all along,” she says.
Alakija cried all night. It felt as if a major door had been closed. After seeking consolation from her husband, Alakija went on to inform Maryam of the outcome of the meeting.
“I told her that it was bad news and that the petroleum minister wants to give me a heart attack. I went back to do a lot more homework and consulted with a friend of my husband who was already in the oil business. At the end of the research, I decided to not give up and officially apply for an opportunity to get an oil block,” says Alakija.
Before submitting her letter, Alakija had already found her technical partners and it was now a waiting game. To her surprise, the oil minister was replaced and Alakija had to restart the whole process again. She kept pushing. Everything seemed to be going according to plan when the second oil minister was also replaced.
“At this stage I still wasn’t ready to give up. The third minister finally wrote me a letter to tell me my application was receiving attention after two years. I got the letter and I cried my eyes out in frustration again at the snail’s pace progress the application was making,” says Alakija.
Swaying from one military coup to another, the Nigerian political climate was volatile during the 1990s. While on holiday in the Philippines, news broke about yet another change in the Nigerian regime. Alakija’s oil application was still being reviewed.
“I raced back to Nigeria to find that the current administration had already done the oil block allocations before they left power and my license was waiting for me. It took three years of not taking no for an answer and going back each time the door was shut in my face,” says Alakija.
She finally had her oil block, but the battle was far from over.
“When I was making the application I listed several blocks. I didn’t want to take a chance on someone else taking my block. So I applied for several blocks and the one I was allocated was the one nobody wanted because it was deep offshore and nobody was exploring deep offshore because it was too expensive to explore and there was no technology around to explore that initial depth of 5,000 feet at that time,” says Alakija.
At first, it seemed Alakija had drawn the short straw. She did not have the technology, expertise and money to start the process of exploration. Alakija, with support from her husband, had to use their life savings to secure the license or face losing it after the government threatened to terminate the agreement if full payment was not made. It took Alakija an additional three years to find new partners after her initial partners pulled out. After years of knocking on countless doors, their persistence paid off.
“Texaco was already in Nigeria and looking to expand their business. They went to the Department of Petroleum Resources (DPR), who told them that Famfa Oil was looking for technical partners. So they linked us up. The license we had was not worth more than the paper it was written on until they came in,” says Alakija.
Five years later, Chevron bought Texaco, including the partnership with Famfa Oil.
After receiving a signature bonus, out of which Alakija was able to pay the balance of the license to the government, Alakija started working with her new partners. Chevron set up an office four months after signing the partnership contract, with Alakija holding on to 60% of the shareholding of the oil block and Chevron taking 40%. Chevron later sold an 8% stake to Petrobras in exchange for their deep offshore technical expertise.
“You can find oil, but if what you have spent is more than the quantity of oil available within the block to make your money back in multiples, then it was not worth carrying on and you cut your losses. You could even have a dry hole after spending millions to explore. So when we found oil in commercial quantities, they said they had to announce it to their shareholders and it has been a battle ever since.”
The announcement of the major find in Alakija’s oil block by Chevron attracted the attention of the Nigerian government who had initially assumed that the oil block was one of the worst due to its location. The government snatched an initial 40% stake from Alakija, followed by another 10% stake, leaving her with a meagre 10% stake.
“We felt like it was unfair. We had taken the sole risk and invested everything we had in the business. It had become a family business. We spent six years as a family to ensure this worked out and now that it was bearing fruit, they just stepped in and took away everything we had struggled and worked extremely hard for. I said to myself, ‘Folorunsho Alakija does not give up, my husband does not give up and my children do not give up.’”
Most of her advisers believed it would be impossible to win a legal battle against the government, which, at the time, was notorious for its corruption. Alakija ignored their advice and took the government to court. For her, the case was simple, Nigeria has a constitution and nobody, including the government, is above that constitution. After 12 years of intense legal battle, the courts returned the 60% shareholding back to the family.
“It was bittersweet. There were a lot of sleepless nights and battles. Suddenly we became the plague, friends stopped picking up our calls and people were asking why we could not be content with 10 percent. My husband was a rock, to myself and the family, during that time and I could not have done it without him,” says Alakija.
Dolapo Oni, Head of Energy Research at Ecobank, praises Alakija’s courage.
“Alakija has run a very successful business in Famfa Oil. She was one of the first women in the oil business and her battle with the federal government shows a great deal of tenacity. After they took away her block, she successfully won it back. She was also one of the first women to partner with a joint venture partner, Chevron, which has been very successful,” he says.
Oni, however, feels the oil company needs to branch out.
“I think they are risk averse. Having been as successful as they are, they do not want to explore other opportunities. I personally feel like you have to increase your reserve base, you have to explore other assets and Famfa has traditionally not diversified their holdings in other fields, which I believe could be very profitable for the business as well.”
For now, Alakija seems content. She met her husband, Modupe, a year after she returned to Nigeria from England and they have been married for over 40 years. These days, Alakija spends her time as a proud grandmother and an author, having penned several books, including her autobiography Growing With The Hand That Gives The Rose, The University of Marriage and The Cry of Widows and Orphans.
As Alakija stands amid the melodic songs of praise in her Tuesday fellowship, she is at peace. Interfere with her business, however, and it’s war.

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A Head For Business And  Fists For A Fight

It is a warm winter’s day in Johannesburg, South Africa. Nkosana Mazibisa is a long way from home but he is eager to make his mark; here and abroad.
Mazibisa was born in the heart of what used to be Zimbabwe’s industrial town, Bulawayo, in 1988. They call it KoNtuthu Ziyathunqa, the place that exudes smoke, in isiNdebele, because of its industry. The harsh economic conditions in Zimbabwe took the smoke from the air.
“There is so much potential in my country. When I was young, I remember the town was full of smoke from industries making many homemade products. Many of these industries have closed down and it is up to us to revive them and create jobs,” says Mazibisa.
Mazibisa wants to be the Bulawayo reviver. The idea of fixing the city dawned on him in his high school debate team in Bulawayo.
“The country was collapsing and we had a debate at school about these issues and how to solve them.”
When it was over, everyone went home and continued with their lives, but not Mazibisa. He started thinking about the role he could play. He graduated and worked hard but that debate haunted him. The smell from Bulawayo factories he was accustomed to growing up was a distant memory.  Home-grown brands he had loved were off the shelves and replaced by international and South African brands, so he swapped his well-paid job for entrepreneurship.
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“My family was shocked. They didn’t understand what I was doing because there are no jobs in Zimbabwe and I here I was resigning. That didn’t scare me. I knew that I had to do my bit to make a difference. That’s why I decided to start a business to solve the unemployment problems we have and revive our industries,” says Mazibisa.
He founded a food retail brand, Swaad “The Taste of India” and Mazibisa Inc., a brand strategy consultancy firm in Bulawayo Zimbabwe.
“I could have gone to Harare but we need to resuscitate Bulawayo and I am playing my role in its revival. Most countries have a brand that represents their nationality. In Zimbabwe we used to have such brands like Willards but now there is nothing. My country at one point was the breadbasket of Africa. Seeing all the big brands we had disappear from the shelves gave me a challenge. I realized Zimbabwe is in a way an extension of South Africa. We have South African shops and brands now, but very few of our own, those brands don’t necessarily resonate with Zimbabwean consumers,” he says.
Swaad makes snacks such as biscuits, potato crisps and dried fruits in a small factory in Bulawayo.
“I want to one day see the smoke from factories cover the blue sky like I used to when I was child. It would mean the country is healing and we are making our own products again instead of importing.”
Mazibisa’s ambitions to make a difference are far and near. He chairs Mawaba School Development Committee (SDC) in Bulawayo as the youngest SDC chair in Zimbabwe’s history. He built a state-of-the-art computer science laboratory which has been adopted for all city council and government schools. He is currently working on a $2-million double-storey lecture theater block and multi-purpose swimming pool project which is due before end of 2017. He is also one of FORBES AFRICA’s 30 under 30s for 2016 and a Mandela Washington Fellow.
These accolades were born of struggle.
“When I decided to start a business, I applied for the government youth fund twice but I didn’t get it. I saw this failure as a stepping stone and not a stumbling block,” he says.
With Zimbabwe’s harsh economic turmoil, dreams are often bleak. He used the little savings from his job to start a brand strategy consulting firm to raise funds for Swaad.
“Lines of credit are slim but the fact that we have a crisis means we have an opportunity to create a new order. Crisis means opportunities for entrepreneurs to rise and create opportunities. Sometimes it feels like I am fighting a losing battle but I always remind myself of the bigger picture. This is my purpose and I am ready to see it through. And this is more than about making money but also creating national pride and valuing local brands, ” says Mazibisa.
He says each of their products have a message from the CEO to ensure the clients feel valued.
“People also fill in their names and birthday details at the till when they buy our products. On their birthday, I send them birthday wishes. Buying local is more than just the brand but a story of national pride and I am hopeful that Zimbabwe will rise again.”
In Mazibisa’s eyes, where there is smoke there is pride.

The Bulawayo Reviver

Tshepo Mohlala remembers being forced to wear a green blazer at church because his grandmother said so. He says she had style; she was also the pastor and still is. Clothes were always a big part of his life, now they’re his fortune.
Mohlala grew up in a small house in Tsakane, 50 kilometers east of Johannesburg, living with mostly women at their grandparent’s house. This was because of his parent’s sudden divorce and many hard years. It was here that his love for fashion unfolded.
He moved from home to home because his mother kept changing jobs as a domestic worker. At the one house they lived in a backroom behind the home.
“We stayed there for two years and it was terrible, we weren’t allowed to do certain things,” Mohlala says.
“We had to move back to Tsakane, our granny’s house. The great thing is that we moved back with family.”
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Mohlala and his family didn’t have it easy. When they couldn’t afford clothes, church members would bring them some.
“It felt good and often I was often first to choose,” laughs Mohlala.
Soon after, Mohlala went to Brakpan High School where he completed his matric, things were easier than before. His mother got a better job in Centurion, around 20 kilometers south of Pretoria.
“I was forced to join the church choir!”
“Choir was exciting. I looked forward to it because my friends and I would talk about our dreams. We were all from the same background; small houses, grannies, church and having no fathers,” says Mohlala.
Clothes were never far away. At choir, Mohlala met the creator of Skinny Sbu Socks, Sibusiso Ngwenya, and social media strategist, Mpumelelo Jules Kumalo.
They were all passionate about fashion. They sold second hand suits at church to make extra money. They bought them for R250 (around $16) and sold for a lot more.
Their dream was to arrive in Johannesburg, 28 kilometers away, and become entrepreneurs, meet celebrities, and make a lot of money, he says.
In 2010, Mohlala went to Johannesburg to study cinematography, but clothes and fashion were always on his mind.
“I remember walking with my girlfriend from choir to buy food and we were wearing skinny jeans. The guys gambling on the street corner laughed at me saying I’m gay. I was fashion forward,” he says.
Inspiration came from strange places. Thugs would come to Mohlala’s grandmother to confess their sins; young Mohlala was impressed by the criminals’ dress sense. His grandmother, the pastor, approved their elegance, if not their deeds, and advised Mohlala to look as stylish.
“Not only criminals came, even the good guys. My gran just wanted me to be a gent and look good,” he says.
But Johannesburg was not paved with gold as they had thought. It was grimy and hard work.
Mohlala mingled at fashion events. He met a lady at South Africa Fashion Week and told her he wanted to be a stylist. He was told to study fashion. And he did in 2011.
Mohlala had to drop out a year later because he couldn’t afford tuition fees. He told himself he was not going back to the streets of Tsakane. He moved to a one-bedroom flat in Brixton, Johannesburg, with his friend from church, Ngwenya. He made money through promotions, also getting rejected by retail stores. He recalls this as his worst and hungriest year.
Then came another fashion week where he met Felipe Mazibuko, the South African stylist and fashion guru. Mazibuko liked his style and they exchanged numbers.
They met over lunch the next week and Mohlala was introduced to fashion veteran Olebogeng Ledimo, the founder of House of Ole, who had an event coming up.
“We drove around that day with Ole’s Jeep in Braamfontein and I couldn’t believe I was meeting so many people I see on television,” he says, still in disbelief.
He worked with Ledimo and Mazibuko on a campaign for three weeks, he also made friends and potential business partners. Mohlala never looked back.
Months later, AfrikanSwiss was created with two former co-workers from the 2012 South Africa Fashion Week. Their idea was to create the first premium genuine-denim in South Africa. The trio gave the jean industry in Johannesburg a facelift. Their focus was menswear.
The brand was growing immensely and they were showcasing at international events in 2013, dressing international R&amp;B group 112 and producer P. Diddy on their tour. They were also involved in photoshoots with the Dutch shoe brand, Palladium.
“We were going to be part of all that vibe,” he says.
In 2014, AfrikanSwiss opened a shop in the heart of Johannesburg and continued budding. As things were blossoming, it turned sour, says Mohlala.
“Emotions and business clashed, the vision of the business clashed too. We were not on the same page anymore.”
Mohlala stepped down and decided to go solo. He continued making jeans and promised not to compete with AfrikanSwiss.
Mohlala took this time to do market research and study the denim industry by searching for loopholes to take advantage of. He found an opportunity, took the little money he had saved and used it to produce his first range of jeans. He named his jeans, Tshepo The Jean Maker.
The jeans are cut to fit the target market’s lifestyle, which can be worn formally or casually. The design details are seen inside and out.
“Our fabric is sourced locally. My jeans are raw unwashed and are made to take the shape of the wearer,” he says.
Most of Mohlala’s sales are made through social media and he has sold as far as Atlanta in the United States.
The jean maker is fast growing and slowly transforming the denim industry. He was a choirboy inspired by thug attire; he’s now a young man exporting jeans to the world.

The Choirboy Inspired  By Criminals

It was a warm day for winter in Pretoria when I arrived to interview South Africa’s Finance Minister Pravin Gordhan, the man with one of the toughest jobs in African finance. He has to make cuts, balance the books, to stop the mighty South African economy falling over the cliff. This, following the crazy days of uncertainty in December when South Africa sacked Nhlanlha Nene; installed unknown Des van Rooyen; before retreating to the safe hands of Gordhan – finance minister between 2009 and 2014 – to steady the markets and resuscitate the currency. You could argue that a finger of one of those safe hands is in the dyke.
As the shafts of mid-morning light shone through the tall windows in the finance minister’s office, in the granite Treasury headquarters, it was getting warmer, but not as warm as the seat where Gordhan now sits.
In June, Gordhan helped South Africa stave off a downgrade, by the rating agencies, to junk status. If South Africa can show growth, prudence and greater fiscal discipline, it may escape a downgrade yet again at the end of the year.
The week of the interview was not a good one for growth in South Africa; it had just shown negative growth of -1.2%. Yet Gordhan, who chose his words very carefully, appeared more bullish than the economy.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: It’s been a rollercoaster six months, how are you holding up?</h4>
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Gordhan: I am used to rollercoasters in my life, so this is one more. This one has been very rewarding because the efforts that government has put in to join forces with business and labor have paid off as far as the first phase of our battle to remain outside of sub investment grade has been won. And largely through the joint efforts of all of us; and now we start the journey into the next five months which is a period where we must deliver on some of the things we have committed ourselves to. I am confident that as a country we will begin to do that because some of that momentum has already been building up.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: You avoided the downgrade to junk status; a lot of people are still saying the country has merely postponed it for another six months. How likely is that?</h4>
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Gordhan: It’s true that we have postponed it but you can’t call it mere postponement when you were about to fall over. Not falling over is a major and important victory for all of us; so it’s a question of  who is the narrative being created by; people who believe in a half full glass or a half empty glass… We still have investments coming in, we have kept to our fiscal targets and we will continue to actually do so. We will unite the key role players in this country behind the common program and we have got a few months to demonstrate we are capable of doing it. We have a clear program in terms of reforming key parts of this economy and making sure some of the key constraints are now taken out of the way.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: Look at the latest data and the economy contracted for the first quarter by 1.2%. Does that make your target that much harder to achieve? How much reform are we going to have to go through for the next five months to ultimately head for that 2% target?</h4>
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Gordhan: I set the 2% mark largely by saying we are going to get moving in the right direction. We all know that in terms of the National Development Plan, we ultimately want to move into the 5% terrain.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: Another question people are asking, as you know, civil service is about 50% of your budget, maybe less than that but it’s still a lot, I was with a lot of financial journalists last night and they were saying why doesn’t the minister cut civil service and save?</h4>
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Gordhan: How many more unemployed people do you want? Firstly, the cost of compensation is about R460 billion ($30 billion), currently that is about 37%, which is high. In the budget, we have said that we are now going to certain measures to start cutting that expenditure. Vacancies not being filled and the most recent report, that we have received from provinces, where a bulk of teachers and health staff are employed is very encouraging.
<h4>Forbes Africa: The ratings agencies have also stated that the risk of political instability, especially on the lead up to the August 3 municipal elections, could affect the economy.</h4>
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Gordhan: Elections happen as part of a democratic society in South African and elsewhere… We are nowhere near disruption but what we do require is for political leaders to recognize that there is a relationship between the way we conduct ourselves politically and the confidence in our economy that we create and today we live in a world where politics and the economy are closely related whether it’s here, Brazil or anywhere else in the world. The prospect of a particular candidate winning the elections in the Unites States is also giving people a wake-up call.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: You definitely can’t forecast the rand and I think that’s the problem right now; small businesses out there are saying they just need to know that there is some stability in the currency.</h4>
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Gordhan: Currency volatility is something that nobody has control over. There are mega forces and dynamics in the globe that influence what happens to a currency as much as there are domestic factors as well, so, look at what’s happening to the pound, so every day that something happens to the dollar, something happens to the rand which are not necessarily related to domestic considerations as well.
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<h4>Forbes Africa: In your efforts to reduce debt and cut expenditure, what kind of painful cuts do you think this country may be looking at in the next six months?</h4>
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Gordhan: We have made the cuts for this year and we have to look hard to find money for a zero increase for student fees, finding money for our subscription to the BRICS New Development Bank, and a few other items that need to be financed both as a result of expenditure cuts and managing the tax side. We have indicated, very transparently, that in the coming two years, we have to find R15 billion (around $1 billion) each year, either from the expenditure or the tax side.

The Finance Minister In The Trenches

An uneasy quietness permeates the Public Protector’s office in Pretoria, South Africa. Where ever we go, including the bathroom, there’s an escort lurking, keys in hand.
The usher apologizes for the tight security.
The staff are clearly on high alert following shocking revelations of an assassination plot against the Public Protector, Advocate Thuli Madonsela.
When Madonsela appears, I expect the same tension but it immediately becomes clear that drama is around her, not within.
Yes, she is reserved but one could say it’s her personality. The advocate is dressed in figure-hugging blue jeans, and her Zen voice and sophisticated demeanour draws you in.
It’s not surprising that someone would threaten her life. After all, she has ruffled some very powerful feathers. No case is too big, small or dangerous for her. She was recently tipped off by a whistle-blower that a gang boss in Cape Town has paid three hit men R740,000 ($47,000) to kill her and make it seem like a car accident. Madonsela says she has no reason to doubt this and takes it very seriously.
“It’s because of my history with the whistle-blower that I have no reason to believe that she is not telling the truth. She says she saw the emails because she’s linked to the gangs from the community. She had given me information before that that turned out to be true,” Madonsela explains, no flicker of fear in her voice.
Her courage is understandable considering the women who have influenced her from a young age. Among them is anti-apartheid activist Victoria Mxenge, a lawyer who was a prominent member of the United Democratic Front. She became more politically active after the assassination of her husband Griffiths Mxenge.
“I never got to meet her but I went to her funeral. This is where I got to hear about this fearless lady who was a nurse and continued to study to become a lawyer. When her husband died, she didn’t shy away, she took over from where he’d left off and met the same violent death,” she explains.
Madonsela has an affinity with Victoria Mxenge. She too, could have been a nurse if her father had his way but she chose to study law.
“When I finished grade 10, my father arranged with a nursing sister who lived a block away from us to get a place for me at Baragwanath Hospital to study nursing. Everything had been arranged without consulting me. I was supposed to go there on a Monday, I refused,” she smiles.
Her father, who worked in the electrical industry, refused to part with a cent for her fees from that grade until university. Her mother, a domestic worker at the time, went all the way to Evelyn Baring High School in Swaziland to speak to her school principal to arrange her bursary. She finished high school through a church bursary and got a United Nations sponsorship for university.
“My father was the scariest man I had seen in my entire life. He had been brought up in the farms. He was really draconian. People were also scared of him but I think when you grow up as a child you eventually realize he’s not going to kill you,” she laughs.
“My first act of defiance was this one although it wasn’t meant to be an act of defiance, it was at the time when I had decided I wanted to be a lawyer, not a nurse.”
What influenced her to become a lawyer was the June 16 Soweto uprising; she was 15 at the time. She initially wanted to become a doctor as she was good at maths and science. People who saw her caring nature thought so too.
She chose law because she was convinced of its healing power. This was during apartheid when a lot of black people’s problems were with the law. They were being arrested because of the pass laws.
“Our cousins would be visiting us from other parts of the world and we would all be traumatized by the police knocking at night at our house and in the neighborhood. We would run around and hide in the cupboards and under the beds, some people would still be taken away. In fact, one of my cousins was taken away coming back from work. We heard they found him without a pass. There was a farm out there in Mpumalanga where they sent people to work for free. We never saw him we don’t know what happened to him till today.”
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Humble Childhood
The advocate comes from humble beginnings in Dlamini, Soweto. Her father never saw the inside of a classroom but he taught himself to read and write. He pulled himself up by the bootstraps and bought a few cars which he used on weekends as long-distance taxis.
Her mother also had little education. She quit school and ran away from her adopted missionary family in pursuit of an alluring life she believed domestic workers had when she saw them in fancy clothes during December holidays. According to Madonsela, it’s a mistake she would later regret and wouldn’t allow her children to repeat.
“One thing she really drummed into our heads was education at the greatest level because she had the misfortune of meeting the child who was taken by the missionaries to fill her place. She had been educated, happily married and she was living a proper life,” she says.
Madonsela’s interest in fighting for people’s rights started early. When she was still studying in Swaziland, the late struggle veteran and African National Congress (ANC) stalwart Albertina Sisulu used to invite her over during the holidays. This is where she met her son, the late Zwelakhe Sisulu, who later introduced her to the National Union of Painters and Allied Workers Union (NUPAWU).
“He thought I could assist and they could use free labor but it was quite a lovely experience,” she chuckles.
Once she finished her degree, she worked with the union again as a legal advisor. Her first entry was to negotiate a transition from the pension fund to the provident fund. She then left and worked briefly in the construction industry as a legal advisor. From here, she joined the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) under the Center for Applied Legal Studies as a researcher and also teaching labor law and gender studies part-time. She was involved in the civic movement.
Madonsela was also involved in advising the ANC on the constitution. During the multi-party talks, they also assisted with research mostly on issues of equality, the bill of rights and land. She was also part of the 11 constitutional experts based in Cape Town.
Her knowledge of the constitution came in handy recently when opposition parties went to the Constitutional Court of South Africa asking the highest court in the land to clarify the powers of her office.
“It was important for me as a South African and as the leader of the team that whatever happens there, the powers of this office are properly understood. I think it was the right decision but there was so much attack that we should stay out of it and let other people define your powers, which was wrong. In fact, it’s normal that if litigation has got a touch on you that you’re included as a respondent,” explains Madonsela.
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‘I Use Soft Power’
One would be forgiven for thinking the Public Protector’s office only pursues corruption cases. It is all that ever hits the front pages of newspapers. The bulk of her work comes from what she calls the Gogo (granny) Dlamini’s cases. This would be a pensioner whom the law has failed and has been sent from pillar to post.
“One of the cases I had to decide on was a rape victim who was sent from pillar to post for eight years and the case had been postponed more than 40 times. The sense as a team here is that it is not enough to say we’ve wronged you we will not do it again. Even if we don’t pay them enough money to rebuild their lives but there has to be a sense of compensation or consolation,” she says.
Regarding financial mismanagement, she believes for this democracy to thrive, the little money this country has must be used properly. If it’s not, there won’t be proper housing, quality health and education systems.
“As you can see now, 22 years into democracy, we’ve done well in that today is better than yesterday but we all agree that we could have done better. We had the means to do better but because of maladministration, corruption and misappropriation of public funds, the pace has been slower than it should have been,” says Madonsela.
What was to be the fight of her life, since she took office in 2009, was her investigation of South African President Jacob Zuma’s estimated R246 million (approx. $15.7 million as per current exchange rate) public spending on the security upgrades of his home in Nkandla in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province. The president claims to have raised a loan of R800,000 ($51,000) for part of these renovations. Many would have shivered and shied away from such a delicate case but Madonsela rolled up her sleeves. She admits such cases need a fine balancing act.
“What I’ve done with all of these cases is to do expectations management, I use soft power. I think Nkandla is a sad case where soft power conversations didn’t work,” says Madonsela.
By ‘soft’, she means calling people to her office, make them tea and politely reminding them of what the law stipulates. She often points out these are the rules that they as government have made. She is only there to enforce the laws and in doing so has to be consistent. She says in most cases they understand that it’s not personal.
“I think with this case, we didn’t see it coming, we honestly thought that it was one of the easy ones where one can say yes we made a mistake but we can fix it. You can recall we didn’t even say that someone must decide how much must be paid, we said somebody must ‘advise’ on how much should be paid. It was crafted in such a way that compliance was made easy,” she adds.
“Regardless of what people think of me and my team, we do put ourselves in the shoes of people we judge. The story is not just about the money, it was a story about excesses, privileges for those who are employed by government and what we wanted was to stop the rot more than to recover that money. The idea was not to cripple the person because we know that the president is not a business person, he is an employee of the state, based on what he has disclosed, he doesn’t appear to be rich, so the idea was to pay what is reasonable.”
Sometimes when a big story breaks, her heart sinks and prays: ‘please God, not me’.
Madonsela was raised by spiritual parents. Her mother was brought up a 7th-day Adventist and her father a Methodist lay preacher.
“We grew up in an environment where we were expected to read the Bible every day, listen to short stories on the radio or religious services,” she explains.
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Most Influential
She also drew lessons and inspiration from women like Eleanor Roosevelt, Oprah Winfrey, Priscilla Jana (a fearless lawyer), Charlotte Maxeke and Olive Schreiner.
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“Olive Shreiner, she wasn’t a lawyer, but she is the person who made it possible for us women lawyers to become lawyers because initially the law society didn’t want us to become lawyers saying that we don’t have the necessary demeanour. Women are most suited for babies and cooking, this court decision was made in 1923.”
In 2014, TIME included her in its prestigious 100 Most Influential People list. In it, Lamido Sanusi, former governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, called her “an inspirational example of what African public officers need to be”.
“When I was first told, I wasn’t even here, my team sent me an email to that effect and I thought ‘no, it’s a joke, it’s one of those 419 scams’. I honestly didn’t feel I was among the 100 influential people in the world,” says Madonsela.
Despite her hectic schedule and the expectations placed on her, she begins her day at 3AM with meditation. She spends her free time with her children or reading. Once a year, she goes to the cinema or theater. What she misses lately are her weekend walks with friends. Those have been suspended because of the alleged hit on her.
She is active on Twitter, mostly posting inspirational messages.
“When I meditate and find something inspirational that anchors my thoughts I share it with people. I find that they respond positively. They would say I spoke to what they were dealing with that day. I would share it because it talked to my soul and what I was struggling with on that morning.”
With her tenure in office coming to an end in September, some would like her to be the country’s president. What did she think of it?
“That is sweet of them but I don’t believe that if you’re good at one thing you’ll automatically be good in politics,” she answers.
Madonsela has a light side to her too. She has an eye for aesthetics and fashion. As a child, she used to draw patterns and sew her own clothes; this is the one thing she plans to return to when she leaves office and turn into a business.
She already has big plans. She will be going back full-time to the bar as an advocate in the high court, at the same time teaching law. She has been approached by several universities; she still needs to choose what will be best for her. She also plans to do civic work again and continue to play a part in expanding social justice, particularly for women and people with disabilities, whilst promoting racial reconciliation.
Next year, she will be writing two books, one her story, and another on administrative law, with the aim of making the work of the Public Protector better understood.

0011

The Unstoppable Force Named Thuli Madonsela

If you have travelled across Africa, you will attest that there is a war between optimism and pessimism. If you look closely, there is a high level of pessimism on the continent. Africans are people who believe in fate; often subject to our situations, than our situations subject to us.
There needs to be a balance between optimism and pessimism, but not so that you only get realism. If this world only had realists, humanity would not have advanced. Realists base their judgments mainly on what has already been proven.
Optimists tend to have too much energy, particularly in the early stages of conceiving an idea, and overlook what could go south. The key here is to realize when your vision does not cost you anything; if so, you are day dreaming.
I will admit, this world was and is built mostly by optimists, the ones who saw something when everyone else saw nothing. This is important because if you can see the invisible, you can do the impossible.
Nevertheless, realists, despite sometimes being negative,  have anchored our society and are often our voice of reason.
As an entrepreneur, you will realize that potential investors are your voice of reason, particularly banks. When you, as an entrepreneur, approach investors excitedly about your business idea, they have a way of making you get in touch with reality by viewing your presentation with x-ray goggles.
I want to touch on the pessimistic bias among some African entrepreneurs, and how we can both confront it and conquer it. It is also important to mention that we have a large number of optimistic entrepreneurs on the continent, especially since Africa is the latest economic frontier for major growth, following on from China and India.
Some might ask whether this pessimistic behavior is part of the nature versus nurture debate. You might notice that a few African entrepreneurs settle for mediocracy, while our Asian, American and European counterparts strive to be the best.
Could it be that you cannot dream to rise above what you are exposed to? Entrepreneurs around the world may have more role models than we do, but we are as capable as any of them.
My concern is that the pessimism is blocking us; we need to stop it once and for all. Let’s follow the example set by some of the shining African stars in business, such as Folorunsho Alakija, Aliko Dangote, Elon Musk, and Mohammed Dewji, among others.
As we embrace optimism, we need to also be careful of blind optimism. You cannot only consider the upside without having counter measures to still succeed if your original plans do not work.
Therefore, a major dosage of optimism, mixed with a dash of realism, is necessary for any African entrepreneur. There is no place for pessimism.
There is a saying I am fond of: while the optimist was arguing that the glass was half full and the pessimist was saying it was half empty, the entrepreneur sold the glass.
So, what needs to be done? We must make sure we use the right metrics to measure our business. This will make it easier to achieve the desired results, not leaving anything to luck or fate. We need to be persistent and implement the right strategies until things start to happen.
Most importantly, African entrepreneurs need to understand that victories don’t come by accident.

mohammed-dewji

See The African Glass As Half Full

When a veteran American comedian and actor Jon Stewart retired as the anchor of The Daily Show late in 2015, after 16 years at the helm, his producers scrambled to offer the job to everyone from Chris Rock to Amy Schumer. They settled on the fresh face from South Africa, with an unusual accent, to dissect and satirize the complex United States political scene as it heads for this year’s elections.
Months before the first show went to air, on September 28, American journalists were skeptical. They didn’t believe Trevor Noah could fill Stewart’s shoes in a show that once captured 3.57 million viewers when Barack Obama breezed through on the cusp of his 2008 election victory.
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Bad reviews followed and Noah’s viewership has fallen compared to the days of Stewart. Seven months on, before a press gathering on set, to mark his 100th show, the 32-year-old from Soweto is unfazed.
“It makes sense to me, if my ratings weren’t down I would be offended on behalf of Jon Stewart. It would make sense that people are going to see the king on his way out, when you’re building a new legacy you need to do exactly that. That means building on a new legacy. Television as a whole is down in America. The biggest thing you have to acknowledge is that there are multiple streams of viewership that are happening now,” says Noah.
Despite the drop in popularity among American viewers – the Nielsen ratings report a 37% decline – it broadcasts to 170 countries, compared to 163 when Noah took over.
“These ratings aren’t disastrous, but considering that politics are the bread and butter of late night television, Noah’s numbers are disappointing. Given this preposterous election season, the material practically writes itself. In Jon Stewart’s 2011-2012 season, his nightly average was 1.7 million viewers,” says Hayley Cuccinello a New York-based TV critic.
The show also generates an average of 67 million monthly streams across digital platforms, in 2016, up 22% against 2015.
Noah says the rise of the web is changing people’s viewing habits as millennials switch from television to the internet. His critics agree that these millennials are supporting Noah.
“I like Trevor’s show, I think his take is unique and he is not necessarily copying Jon Stewart. He is kind of doing his own style, maybe a little bit more humorous and characterizations. He is inspired by Jon but he is not just doing imitation of him. The brand of The Daily Show itself is enough to get people interested, especially online, I think Trevor is doing a good thing with social media. I personally don’t watch it on TV a lot but watch it on Facebook and YouTube clips, so I think social media has helped him reach out to people, not necessarily on TV, he has to branch out on other outlets,” says 24-year-old Nader Salem, from New Jersey.
Indeed, the audience at Noah’s 100th show on April 28, in Manhattan, had many people from afar. There were a number of South Africans, supporting their own, including the South African Broadcasting Corporation correspondent in New York, Sherwin Bryce-Pease, and Sunday Times’ entertainment writer Azizzar Mosupi, who flew in for the show.
“We are SAA (South African Airways) employees. It is mandatory for every African in New York to make time for the show. We love Trevor. He is an inspiration to every African child. He is the living proof anything is possible,” says Zanda Setlaleleng.
“I watched Jon Stewart and I have been watching Trevor Noah as well, I didn’t realize today is the 100th show, I am glad I am here tonight. Trevor is very different from Jon but pretty great too. He has a very different view of things that I think people can learn from. I appreciate his sense of humor. Hundredth show on my birthday, there you go,” says Fiona Charlton, a visitor to New York from Britain.
On the night of the show, Noah ran to the stage, fired up, in a black tailored suit and tie. He made the house rules clear to the cheering audience: “This thing is like a sex tape – people watch to get off on seeing both people having a good time… So, you have to give me your all because I am going to give you mine.”
Noah prides himself in a diverse team of scriptwriters who advise him on issues of religion, nationality and gender.
“There’s nothing off limits, it’s just what are you trying to do with a joke. Even before The Daily Show I always liked jokes that bring people together, and jokes that build the nation. In South Africa I made jokes about the president, to his face, for many years. He knows me, people in Parliament know me. That never stopped me from engaging with them and them engaging with me. There’s an implicit understanding. The worst thing that can happen is when somebody takes your joke to hurt another person or group when you didn’t intend to do that.”
Noah stepped into the comedy scene through a dare. In the early 2000s, he was a regular at the comedy clubs in Johannesburg. One night the host called for newcomers to take the microphone, his drunk friends pushed Noah on stage.
That night, Noah slayed them in the aisles and never looked back. In a few years, he would become the country’s favorite comedian, playing to packed houses, and the host of Tonight With Trevor Noah on M-Net across Africa.
Noah says South Africa will always be home and he keeps tabs on the political scene. He is not eligible to vote in the US elections he comments on nightly, but on August 3 he will be one of many South Africans casting their vote at the embassy in New York for in the municipal elections back home.
“Over the years travelling, performing comedy all over the world and now doing The Daily Show, I have learned if you stay true to yourself and if you are proud of who you are and where you come from, that in itself becomes the mantle. I love telling jokes about South Africa and Africa, I will go for the disparaging comments that people think are stereotypes of the continent. I myself, in many ways, a complete juxtapose of what people think of the continent. I am a South African, you can smell it on me,” he says.
Noah grew up crammed into a small house in Soweto, where he shared a room with his stepbrothers and cousins where he peed in a bucket in the mornings. His mother, a Xhosa woman, had a child with his father, a Swiss-German, which was against the law in apartheid days. Noah recalls his mother had to dress like a domestic worker and his father had to walk on the other side of the street to avoid the attention of police on family outings.
“I was born a crime,” Noah often joked.
Whatever the ratings say, it is clear Noah intends to joke through the storm. As a fellow African in New York I put my money on him having the last laugh at the expense of his detractors.

“I Am A South African, You Can Smell It On Me”

Standing in a long queue of pedestrians in Surulere on the mainland of Lagos, Nigeria, Austin Somefun is waiting for an okada (motorcycle taxi). He is on his way to view a new flat for his family, which currently stands at five children and two wives.
“My second wife just had her third child and so we need a bigger space. I have been looking at properties all week but so far, I have not found the right size for my family,” says Somefun.
He is part of the growing population in a country, which according to Reuters, will increase from 188 million to 300 million people by 2030.
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“Population explosion definitely creates a demand for residential property. The Lagos State commissioner for budget and planning estimates that Lagos alone needs to spend $50 billion in the next couple of years to keep up with the 23 million residents in the state and a significant amount of that budget will go towards housing,” says Steven Brown, an economist working with Britain-based Integra Consulting.
According to the Real Estate Developer’s Agency of Nigeria, the country is lacking about 17 million houses with about 60-70% living in slums and informal settlements. The Centre for Affordable Housing and Finance in Africa, estimates that 700,000 more homes are needed each year to keep pace with the population explosion.
Kennedy Okonkwo is founder of Nedcomoaks, an indigenous real estate company vying for this growing market. The company focuses on Nigeria’s middle class who, according to Okonkwo, is underserved. Okonkwo had a brief stint in the IT and human resources sector before a missed opportunity changed his life.
“I was working as a strategic adviser for a company and my part time job in real estate had a deal that was worth N18 million ($90,000). The deal meant I was going to provide accommodation for expatriates and the company issuing the contract was waiting for me to come and see them but I was busy doing a strategy session so I lost the deal to a competitor. I said to myself it’s time to focus on the property business and I resigned from the job,” says Okonkwo.
His love affair with bricks and mortar began when he brokered his first deal as an estate agent worth N260,000 ($1,300). Okonkwo started from scratch; scraping together money for construction while selling Hawes &amp; Curtis shirts to tide him over.
“The landowners had signed over the land for 30 years and most of the families did not have money to build on the land and time was running out. So I approached them and got the land on leases. I got about 22 of them and started building four units of room and parlour self contains and doing resettlement schemes,” says Okonkwo.
Things were looking up for Okonkwo until the global recession hit him in 2008. Most of his clients who invested in the properties could no longer afford the monthly repayments and the banks clamped down on all credit to business. Luckily for Okonkwo, he secured a loan of N100,000,000 ($500,000), which added to the company’s working capital and proved a lifeline.
“Initially, we would look for money to develop one property and once we sold that, we would build three more properties because we would market and get other people to buy more. Once we got the loan from the bank, we were able to expand very rapidly.”
Part of the Nedcomoaks property portfolio is a 92-unit construction of three-bedroom terraces and a new build of 28 units of four-bedroom houses with average prices for his developments at N25 million ($125,000).
Similar to Brown, Okonkwo believes there are massive opportunities within the property market in Nigeria. The Nigerian property sector is valued at $39 billion according to a recent report by CBO Capital, an investment advisory firm based in Lagos.
“I went into the property business because I felt there is a real need for it. For everybody, when you look at your needs, it’s probably food first and then you think of shelter. So there is no way anybody that is providing shelter will get it wrong. I think there are enormous opportunities to tap into in the Nigerian property market today and the reputation of the developer matters a whole lot,” says Okonkwo.
The industry still has a long way to go to satisfy the growing demand. Like everywhere in Nigeria, the foreign exchange (FX) restrictions in the country have hit the property market.
“In the operational aspect of construction, it has a tendency to drive up the cost of the construction because most of the finishing materials are imported and so the restrictions of FX make it difficult to import these goods which drives up the price. On the other hand, a property that was selling at $150,000 can now go for $100,000 if the person has FX, so for these people, there is a higher advantage,” says Okonkwo.
As Africa’s largest economy continues to grow, Okonkwo is gearing up to be the go-to property developer for the growing middle class, one home at a time.

The Miss That Led To  A bullseye

Landing in Kigali at night is like swooping down on a bed of stars. The land of a thousand hills twinkles with lights rivalling the skies above. On this particular night, the eve of the city’s first-ever World Economic Forum (WEF), immigration lines at the tiny but gleaming Kigali International Airport are long – mostly business travelers with thick passports and thick accents – but the wait, thankfully, isn’t. Staff quickly issue visas on arrival, Rwanda one of the few African countries to offer this ease of access.
The country has long been preparing for this day, and that first important step to flexing its economic muscle on a global stage. Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu’s famous quote, “the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” would certainly apply here; WEF was Rwanda’s ticket to even greater global glory, beyond the 2Gs it had been known for thus far – the genocide and the gorillas.
The packed hotels and packed agendas over the next three days, May 11-13, justified its place on the WEF map. The delegates spoke, the presidents nodded, and there was affirmation everywhere, at forums, sessions, breakfasts and dinners: that Rwanda is “a beautiful country, so clean, so green, so safe”, but more importantly, a country that’s perhaps a model for the rest of Africa, and the world, for its progress over the last 22 years since the genocide against the Tutsi battered its being.
There was lavish praise also for President Paul Kagame for spearheading this growth. At the packed interactive session on African partnerships on day one moderated by former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, Kagame said: “Twenty two years ago, we had to involve everyone’s participation&#8230; we lost the past, but needed to regain the future.”
And Blair closed: “Twenty two years ago, if you said a couple of decades later, you would be hosting the World Economic Forum, people would have been surprised… it’s an amazing country that has seen extraordinary progress. You have done a great job.”
Toronto-based entrepreneur Sunir Chandaria said post-session: “They have moved mountains to make this happen… Rwanda has taken a leap with digitization amongst African countries.”
The Kigali edition was the 26th World Economic Forum on Africa, themed ‘Connecting Africa’s Resources Through Digital Transformation’. Some 1,200 delegates from 70 countries jetted into the small African city. In attendance were names like Tony Elumelu, Tonye Cole, Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, Howard Buffett, Pravin Gordhan and Cherie Blair. The venue at Camp Kigali, rechristened the Kigali Conference and Exhibition Village, had a tented concept to stir a sense of déjà vu of WEF’s annual Davos outing.
From the Alps of Switzerland to the hills of Rwanda, the forum did manage to generate its own share of excitement.
Against the backdrop of Kigali’s rolling hills – mostly red, not green, owing to the profusion of red-roofed homes on the slopes – the African plenary unfolded. Gun-toting men in military fatigues guarded the main venue and the five-star Serena Hotel, where most of the 10 visiting African heads of state were staying, and which was the venue for the stately events and dinners throughout WEF. One couldn’t get to the lobby without bag and body thoroughly searched.
Issues around women and youth featured prominently throughout the conference, not surprising, considering the host country boasts more women in parliament, in the ministries and the judiciary.
The first side event, held on the eve of WEF, was ‘Women Creating Wealth’, by the Graça Machel Trust, supported by the Rwanda chapter of New Faces, New Voices, a pan-African advocacy group expanding the role and influence of women in the financial sector. Machel, also a co-chair of WEF on Africa, said: “Women are power, women are energy, women are creativity&#8230;”
Arjuna Costa, Partner at Omidyar Network, a philanthropic investment firm with a long history of investing in Africa, who was the only male member on the panel, spoke to FORBES AFRICA: “It’s an exciting time to be a young entrepreneur in Africa, especially with the world moving towards more and more mobile, Africa in many ways being the pioneer of things like mobile systems, and also creating rich ecosystems on which more innovation is coming… It’s exciting as it’s home-grown innovation tackling global challenges with local solutions but still leveraging the power of technology.”
On day one of WEF, the Youth Forum, a breakfast event hosted by Rwanda’s First Lady Jeannette Kagame, saw a full auditorium at the Serena that was, for a change, an equal turnout of both male and female achievers.
In attendance throughout the conference were WEF’s Young Global Leaders (YGLs) and Global Shapers; there were so many, you could tell them from a distance.
One of them, Gerald Chirinda, a 20-something Harare-based entrepreneur standing in line for the security check at the Serena that night, for the social entrepreneurship dinner hosted by South Africa’s Motsepe Foundation, explained: “You see, we all look hungry&#8230; Hungry for power, and change&#8230; that’s why you recognize us.”
The one word used – and perhaps over-used – at the forum was ‘leapfrogging’. At one point during the interactive session on the Fourth Industrial Revolution at the venue’s Akagera hall, the forum’s co-chair, Akinwumi Adesina, President of the African Development Bank (AfDB), even said he didn’t believe in the word.
“Even a frog can’t leap that far,” he said to laughter.
“We cannot industrialize unless we solve access to electricity,” he said. One of the greatest priorities for the continent is electrification to enable digital technology – 500 million are without power.
“Africa is tired of being in the dark,” said Adesina. The AfDB is spending $12.5 billion in the next five years on its New Deal on Energy.
It’s crucial the Fourth Industrial Revolution “does not leave anyone behind”, said Machel, referring to Africa’s 52% female population.
At the same session, Kagame mentioned “people technology”. “Development is more than money or machines or tech. It’s about good people and the lives they lead every day,” he said.
Among the new initiatives unveiled, was the WEF-led Internet For All, a collection of best practices from around the world on how public-private collaboration has enabled internet access and adoption.
The forum’s Africa Skills Initiative brought organizations including MMI, GE, Google, Agility, the Rockefeller Foundation, Yellowwoods and the University of the Witwatersrand together to form a coalition committed to tackling Africa’s shortage of future-oriented STEM and ICT skills, while the Rockefeller Foundation announced a $1 million Cassava Innovation Challenge, aimed at finding ways to improve the shelf life of this staple crop.
Visitors to Rwanda’s first Marriott hotel that opened in time for WEF were awe-struck by its grandeur. Given the number of high-profile events the country has on the cards, hotels of this caliber are now necessary to meet the demands of discerning business travelers. The Radisson is set to open for the African Union summit here in July, right next to the Agaseki basket-inspired conference center, which was lit throughout the duration of WEF as a beacon of light and hope, hope for a tomorrow that has already come in Rwanda.

From The Alps  To The Hills

It’s a hot summer’s day in Sandton, Johannesburg. As we meet, the sun blazes bright like Titan’s fiery wheels. Brightness has played a big part in Johan Botes’ journey to entrepreneurship. On this day, the future is even brighter; he has just opened an office in Fourways, Johannesburg, 254 kilometers away from Mokopane, in northern Limpopo, where he took his first breath in 1962.
“I am so happy that the company is growing from strength to strength and most importantly providing jobs for young people who deserve every opportunity,” he says.
Botes employs 55 permanent staff and 12 contractors in five countries. The average age is 27. The company merges accounting and IT to make businesses quicker and reliant on fewer staff.
“The drive and energy of our team is one reason we’re growing so fast. We recruit entrepreneurial, self-motivated people at a young age and embed them into our business. They’re adaptable, quick to learn and ready to work overseas independently. We’re very strategic in our recruitment process – we’ll only take people with the right cultural fit, business acumen, and energy level to succeed in a global workplace,” he says.
Building a successful business was hard and sweaty. For three years after high school, Botes came face to face with rifles and drill in the army as a conscript.
With teachers for parents, he was inspired to save for university fees. Hard work earned him a career as a chartered accountant, working for Deloitte, before going into private practice as an auditor and then returning to Deloitte for a five-year stint. Here he learned about the enterprise resource planning (ERP) market. Botes swapped his well-paid job to start Consilia Technology Investments – a company that provides technology for business – in 2012.
“First we started the business as Consilia Consult; after a year, we realized we are not a consulting company but a technology business and we changed it to Consilia Technology. We can take all your database services; optimize it to make the business work,” he says.
According to Botes, the management information system integrates areas such as planning, purchasing, inventory, sales, marketing, finance and human resources. He started the business after realizing that clients in South Africa were finding the existing high-end ERP packages expensive and complicated. He decided to build a business around Sage ERP X3 software – a solution designed to be more flexible and affordable.
“Our view is that accountants are a dying breed. Systems are taking over. You can automate almost all the accounting systems in a business today through, for example, barcoding and scanning. It changes the fundamentals of business completely. One of our clients is a logistics company that requires daily costs per vehicle everyday per component such as tyres, fuel and maintenance. We give them a report per vehicle in different categories so they can see which vehicles are making profit, without having to capture one thing. Everything is available on a phone, iPad or computer. You can sit in front of a TV and authorize payments,” he says.
Botes says that the immediate priority for Consilia is to bed down its businesses in its new offshore territories before looking at other markets.
“We’ve been cash-generative since the start and have not had to take on debt to grow our business. We believe that if we offer a skill that is in demand worldwide, and do good work at a good price, we’ll continue to grow strongly in the years to come.”
He says there is a market for businesses like his in the continent and entrepreneurs should take note and keep employees smiling.
“As a young person, to start up a business and get funding is difficult. Since we started, 21 people have gotten shares. They haven’t paid for them yet but they pay from dividends. They have three years to pay up. We give them a discount of 80 percent. If you show someone that you trust them and you give them something, they become involved and want to see the business grow. One of the young guys said to me no one in his life has ever given him anything,” he says.
The future seems bright for Botes.

‘Accountants  Are A Dying Breed

It is a peaceful 200-yard walk from the Cape Town city streets to the gates of Parliament, but inside it was loaded like a gun; anger blazed in the eyes of many for Jacob Zuma, President of South Africa for nearly seven years and head of the African National Congress (ANC).
A small group outside Parliament held up placards reading ‘ANC Betraying South Africa’. The leader, in a navy suit, who wishes to be known only as Michael, said they had taken their lunchbreak to voice their disgust.
“The ANC members here today must do the honorable thing and fire this president who flaunts our wealth.”
A man dressed in the darkness of death contrasted against Parliament’s bright white walls. He held a cardboard match to a cardboard Constitution as MPs floated past in their luxury vehicles.
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Curious students across the way ran to see what the fuss is all about. One claimed Zuma is running the economy into the ground, another countered that he is too powerful to be ousted.
The street vendor, a few blocks down, didn’t care. He sold sweets and cigarettes to anyone who had money, be it Economic Freedom Fighter (EFF) red or ANC green and gold, as they shuffled toward Parliament. No one wanted to miss this one.
Inside, the debate raged like a fire on Table Mountain. The gallery was packed as leaders of the opposition parties tore into the ruling ANC. Mmusi Maimane, the first black leader of the Democratic Alliance (DA), likened the ills of his opponents to a disease.
“Corruption has infected the entire party like a cancer. While our attention today focuses on a large and malignant tumour, we know that under the surface, the disease has replicated itself in every cell,” said Maimane.
“Today, it will be recorded that ANC members of Parliament chose to defend a crooked, broken president instead of the constitution and the rule of law. Today will signal once and for all that the ANC has lost its way and there’s absolutely no way back.”
Nhlanhla Khubisa, National Freedom Party secretary-general, called for the president to be elected by the citizens, and not by the party.
Pieter Mulder, Freedom Front Plus leader, reminded the ANC of the fate of their predecessor, Thabo Mbeki, who was recalled in 2008.
“His mistakes were 10 times less serious than Zuma&#8230; Sir, if ANC members once again ignore the facts of the last week… take my word for it, history will in a couple of years from now judge them very harshly and negatively,” said Mulder.
ANC MP and Deputy Minister of Justice and Constitutional Development, John Jeffery, bit back.
“The DA claims the president seriously violated the Constitution, but here is the issue: the court did not find a serious violation of the Constitution as Section 89 (1) requires&#8230; The court did not declare Zuma violated his oath of office as the EFF had wanted.”
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A statement was read out:
The Presidency wishes to correct media reports wrongly stating that the judgement by the Constitutional Court found that President Jacob Zuma had broken his oath of office. The Constitutional Court did not make such a declaratory order.
The Constitutional Court instead ruled that “The failure by the President to comply with the remedial action taken against him, by the Public Protector in her report of 19 March 2014, is inconsistent with section 83(b) of the Constitution read with sections 181(3) and 182(1)(c) of the Constitution and is invalid.
Votes were cast, results read, the dust settled and the opposition walked out – oh, by the way, Zuma won: 233 votes to 143.
<h1>How Did We Get Here?</h1>
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Even if President Jacob Zuma does survive, this fragile democracy will face an acid test on August 3. Millions of South Africans will go to the polls for municipal elections in which the ruling ANC is expected to lose ground.
How did we get here? Well, the tension has built since 2009, when the story of Nkandla broke. Seven years later, South Africa&#8217;s Constitutional Court – the highest in the land – found Zuma to have unduly benefited from $15 million worth of upgrades to his personal home in KwaZulu-Natal. The court stated Zuma failed to uphold, defend and respect the constitution as the supreme law of the land.
A humbled Zuma apologized publicly to the country on television. The ANC backed him.
&#8220;I wish to reiterate that any action that has been found not to be in keeping with the constitution happened because of a different approach and different legal advice&#8230; I never knowingly or deliberately set out to violate the constitution&#8230; It was never my intention not to comply with the remedial action taken against me by the Public Protector [Thuli Madonzela] or to disregard her office.&#8221;
Other loyalists called for more than an apology. Trevor Manuel, South Africa&#8217;s former finance minister, wanted resignation. Even Ahmed Kathrada, who faced death with Nelson Mandela in the 1960s, wrote a letter calling for Zuma to go.
&#8220;I know that if I were in the President’s shoes‚ I would step down with immediate effect,&#8221; wrote Kathrada.

Go Now, Mr President!

Table mountain, the striking mesa above Cape Town, lords over another impressive African monument: the multistory Golden Acre shopping center. Lunchtime crowds pour into the glassy, brightly lit structure, and from within it is impossible not to notice the dominance of South Africa’s second-richest man, Christo Wiese. His bargain-bin clothier, PEP, pulls foot traffic to the basement. Above it, you’ll find his more upscale Ackermans chain. Around the corner is his OK Furniture and his grocery chain, Shoprite, which takes up two floors.
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By and large, they all carry the same message. PEP’s window ads, accented in canary yellow, proclaim it the home of the “Lowest Price in South Africa.” Brightly colored bunting in OK Furniture heralds a similar promise. Shoprite (among its many slogans: “Lower prices, that’s our promise”) will even play moneylender, fronting customers up to R7,500 (roughly $470).
“The business has basically been built on one slogan: Low prices you can trust. Just very, very low everyday prices,” says Wiese (whose name, fittingly, is pronounced VEE-sa, like the credit card). “I suppose we could be described as the Wal-Mart of Africa.” Underscoring the cost-conscious philosophy, the 74-year-old is telling me this at his company headquarters, in an industrial area that abuts a composter and Adult World, which sells what you think it does.
His offices, like his stores, are decidedly spare: drab beige enlivened only by some hotel- quality art (a portrait of an elephant herd hangs outside the door of the conference room he uses as an office). “People have very limited budgets,” continues Wiese, clad in a capitalist’s power uniform – blue suit, blue shirt – the very picture of the lily-white executive that still controls most of South African business. “They have to get extremely good value for their money.” His hunch – that value trumps everything – led him to create the largest retail business in Africa. Publicly traded Shoprite does revenue of $9.9 billion a year, while PEP’s parent company, Steinhoff, brings in $11.8 billion (some of it from selling cellphones and home furnishings). Combined, they net almost $2 billion in annual profits, operate more than 9,000 stores in 30 countries and employ over 200,000 people. No other African retailer comes close to rivaling their breadth and depth, and Wiese controls both.
Those stakes are largely what makes Wiese one of the planet’s richest people, with a $5.8 billion fortune. More than 60% of his wealth is in Shoprite and Steinhoff, while another 30% or so comes from his shares of Brait, an investment vehicle Wiese uses to buy other companies, many of them outside South Africa. His stock in Tradehold, a real estate firm, accounts for much of the remaining 10%.
But if Wiese is to continue his expansion he must move outside of his African comfort zone. The continent isn’t booming the way it once was. Economic growth across Africa has slid from close to 7% in 2007 to about 4% in 2014, the last year for which data are available. In coming years it isn’t likely to much surpass that figure. South Africa, still Wiese’s most important market, is emblematic of the larger trend – stuck at sub-2% growth for the foreseeable future. The slowdown gravely threatens Wiese’s ambitions. He can shut his eyes and picture his empire twice as big as it is today, but for it to grow that large, he must look beyond Africa.
And he’s already started. PEP is expanding rapidly in Europe, while Wiese is snapping up all sorts of companies through Brait, including majority stakes in British discount retailer (sound familiar?) New Look for $1.2 billion last June and Richard Branson’s fitness center chain, Virgin Active, for $1 billion a month later. Put broadly, Wiese is a little Sam Walton, in terms of his focus, and a little Warren Buffett, in terms of amalgamating a portfolio. As a matter of fact, he’s beaten Buffett handily lately. His holding company, Brait, has trounced Berkshire Hathaway in total returns over three years (160% versus 31%), five years (230% to 51%) and ten years (314% to 121%).
<div id="attachment_4832" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4832" class="size-medium wp-image-4832" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/0000171388-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – APRIL 22: Billionaire businessman Dr. Christo Wiese on April 22, 2009 in Johannesburg, South Africa. (Photo by Gallo Images / Foto24 / Sharief Jaffer)</div>
“Christo has been a massive risk taker his whole life,” says Syd Vianello, a retail analyst in Johannesburg, who has observed Wiese over many decades. “Africa is not a place for sissies. You’ve got to have nerves of steel. In Africa they see him as a genius.”
The breathtaking views of Cape Town, where land and sea dramatically converge to produce vistas of green mountains towering above deep blue water, can be quickly forgotten on a nine-hour drive north to the dry, hot savanna city of Upington, an unsightly provincial town alongside the Orange River, close to the Kalahari Desert. Upington does possess one unique site: a statue of a donkey, a rare tribute to the quintessential beast of burden. It is not undeserved. Starting in the 1880s, farmers, employing donkeys to pump water, tamed this rough part of the country with an almost puritanical determination.
Wiese’s father was one of those men. He owned a sheep and cattle farm, as well as a car dealership in town. “People in Upington were hardworking, very neat, very orderly – disciplined,” says Wiese. “People who were not neat always stood out like a sore thumb.” For college, Wiese attended Stellenbosch University, one of South Africa’s better schools, situated in a sleepy area awash in wine and vineyards. He studied law and became head student of his residence hall and an active member of a progressive student organization.
After graduating in 1967, he decided he’d rather return home and join the small retail business owned by his cousin’s husband than become an attorney. The company had around ten discount stores near Upington, which were called PEP. With Wiese on board and helping guide expansion, sales went from 4 million rand in 1970 to 29 million rand (around $100 million today) four years later. Fast growth, but Wiese lost interest after a moment of self-discovery.
“I had worked out for myself that I’m not really” – he trails off, as if about to utter a dirty word – “a number-two man.” There was another concern, too. “I started thinking about getting married,” he says. “And the way I lived in those days, I was away from home 20 days a month. That’s no way to build a marriage. So I thought if I go and practice law, at least I’ll be home much more.”
While working as a barrister in criminal and commercial law in Cape Town, Wiese, restless still, made a futile run for parliament in 1977 on the opposition party ticket, partly inspired by his new father-in-law, a controversial member of parliament expelled from the ruling, pro-apartheid party for dissension. Wiese also grew interested in something that has always attracted the ambitious in South Africa – diamonds. He found a mine nearer his hometown, in Richtersveld. (“The area has a stark beauty, like a moon landscape. Very sparse vegetation, very little rainfall.”) He bought it for about $20 million in today’s currency and began mining and trading diamonds.
<div id="attachment_4830" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4830" class="size-medium wp-image-4830" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/AV_00022953-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" />JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA – JUNE 12: Billionare businessman Christo Wiese on June 12, 2012 in Johannesburg, South Africa. (Photo by Gallo Images / Financial Mail / Hetty Zantman)</div>
Five years after purchasing it, in 1981, he sold it, and looking for his next chapter, he turned to his cousin and PEP, which by then had 450 locations, including a grocery business, Shoprite, it had added a few years earlier. In taking a check (worth roughly $100 million in current terms) for his successful, middling business, the cousin was set for life. Wiese, no longer number two, pictured something much grander. “Maybe I was more ambitious,” he says, quietly, eyebrows arched.
What Wiese envisioned was retail at its rawest, and he understood how attractive it could be. In modest, unadorned storefronts, PEP sold only the simplest kinds of clothes (“underwear, schoolwear, very basic stuff”). The choice between a white shirt and a blue one was often the most complicated one in the store. Shoprite did the same with groceries. All that mattered to Wiese’s target market – poor whites and a black population kept systematically impoverished – was price.
In a perverse twist, apartheid ensured him a gigantic customer base of some 20 million nonwhites, who made up more than 70% of the population. They were incapable of climbing the ladder or earning more money – or shopping elsewhere. And the heavy economic sanctions against South Africa meant little in the way of foreign competition. It was a perfect market: massive and artificially protected.
“Wiese saw the opportunity faster than anybody else,” says retail analyst Vianello. “He targeted the bottom end of the market, and nobody could argue his business had any element of waste. He cut out all the extravagance and gave people what they wanted at the lowest possible price.” The concept proved popular enough for Wiese to begin expanding aggressively, sometimes opening as many as 100 new stores a year. While other retailers concentrated on stores in large markets, he eagerly plunged into rural and poorer areas. He’d rather his customers spend their money in his stores than spend it traveling to them.
Wiese was maniacal about costs, a business necessity in lowmargin retailing and perfectly fitting with his personality – a billionaire who keeps spare change neatly stashed in a tiny bottle inside his Lexus SUV. “Christo is stingy,” says James “Whitey” Basson, Wiese’s right-hand man at Shoprite since day one and an old buddy from Stellenbosch University. “He’ll give me the nicest bottle of champagne as a present, and I’ll open it up, and I’ll see he forgot to take out the message: It’s a bottle from Lord So-and-So. He’s a regifter.”
To guard against corporate expenses, PEP manufactured many of its clothes in 11 factories; one was situated next to the company’s modest offices in Parow Industria. Most important, from almost the start PEP relied on a central distribution system with warehouses to store goods, a total departure from how most South African retailers operated (with many deliveries from many suppliers to each shop). “That was a no-brainer,” Basson says. “Getting one truckload to a store is substantially cheaper than getting 30 trucks to wait outside the store and offload 30 different times.”
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In 1986 Wiese spun off Shoprite and PEP into separate public companies while maintaining control of both. Good timing. Four years later Nelson Mandela was freed after spending almost three decades in prison. Apartheid was ending. South African companies were no longer pariahs, and Wiese began to expand elsewhere in Africa. A year after Mandela ascended to the presidency in 1994, Shoprite opened its first store in central Africa, in Zambia, followed by Mozambique, Swaziland, Botswana, Zimbabwe and Uganda. PEP had a similar trajectory. Their stores’ simple model made them easily exportable.
“Wiese and Basson sat down and took a view that they could conquer Africa, and they went out and conquered Africa,” says Vianello. Shoprite’s size ($2 billion in 1996 sales with about $120 million in cash flow and little debt) allowed it to move more quickly than local rivals. “How long does it take to clear a container in Angola or Nigeria? What bribes do you have to pay to get supplies in? Who on earth would finance them to put up stores? They had to build their own stores themselves. No one else would.” (Wiese insists he has spent not one rand on bribery.)
Other growth came through acquisitions. By the 1990s he had already made six purchases to expand both Shoprite and PEP, pushing PEP’s operations as far as Britain and its sales to more than $2 billion. In 1997 he bought OK Bazaars (and its nearly 300 grocery and furniture stores) from South African Breweries for just one rand. The catch? OK Bazaars was losing around $40 million annually, which was just about how much Shoprite was booking in annual profits. It could be kept on life support for just so long.
“We bet the farm,” says Wiese. He reached for a familiar page from the playbook: “cutting frills, lowering overhead,” including renegotiating several onerous leases. As it turns out, OK Bazaars had good bones and had simply been mismanaged. “Christo is a fantastic corporate deal thinker,” says Basson. “He always makes me think: What would the alternative be if I didn’t make a deal? What happens if the opposition buys the company?”
Wiese didn’t really develop a profile outside of Africa until recently, and to his annoyance, his arrival was trumpeted not by a cunning deal but by something more ignoble. It came after U.K. customs officials detained him at London City Airport in 2009 with two suitcases filled with nearly $1 million in cash. They seized it, suspecting illicit origins. The British and South African press merrily picked up on the incident – apparently suspecting Wiese had been nabbed for money laundering – and were further emboldened by Wiese’s stubbornness in fighting for the funds’ return and his insistence that the amount was “insignificant.” (The Daily Mail’s gleeful headline: “It’s Just Peanuts To Me.”) The government ended up returning the money – interest attached – but the damage was done. He still won’t talk publicly about the incident, and until recently, it was pretty much the extent of his reputation in the West.
That’s now beginning to change, and much of his activity is still in Britain. When his holding company, Brait, first showed an interest in stretching beyond South Africa in 2012, it invested in British supermarket business Iceland Foods and added to its position in November 2015, when it paid about $275 million to increase its position from 19% to 57%. Two more deals came last year: the stakes purchased in discount retailer New Look and gym chain Virgin Active. A second Wiese company, Invicta, has put its capital into industrial companies: unsexy firms with predictable, recurring revenue streams, like Singapore-based Kian Ann Engineering, a distributor of heavy machinery parts. And a third Wiese vehicle, Tradehold, watched the value of its U.K. property portfolio increase by about 50% to roughly $120 million in February 2015 (the latest full-year results available), driven substantially by new investments in the British real estate market, where it owns residential, industrial and office space.
PEP has charged into eastern Europe, too. After its initial move into this part of the continent in 2005 (Poland mostly but also the Czech Republic and Slovakia), PEP has proven its model successful there. Its eastern European stores do about $1,800 per square meter, a 60% increase from 2012 and roughly double what a comparable competitor might do. The region is now 11% of PEP’s $2.9 billion in annual revenue (up from 5% in 2012).
As PEP broadens its store expansion into Britain it will likely run up against the most entrenched competition, including venerable discount retailer Primark. Considering this, Wiese blithely expresses a malapropism: “There’s the old American saying that only three things are certain: death, taxes and competition. You can’t shy away from competition. You’ve just got to go meet them.” And besides, Primark tries to be fashionable, while PEP proudly does not. “We don’t have fashion. You can’t come into our stores and expect a wide selection of colors and pattern,” says Steinhoff CEO Markus Jooste. “Our stuff is for people who have to have it, not want to have it. It offers value to the bottom-end customer and gives them some dignity in what they wear.”
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Last December expansion-minded Steinhoff began trading on the Frankfurt Stock Exchange in addition to its long-standing listing in Johannesburg. But not before Wiese got slapped with a reminder that his international ambitions wouldn’t proceed without a false step. A few days before its Frankfurt debut German tax authorities raided local Steinhoff offices as part of an investigation into its accounting. Steinhoff dismisses the investigation as baseless, but it certainly spooked the company’s investors. The stock dropped about 15% in a month – wiping away almost $600 million from Wiese’s personal fortune.
Having long parried advances from those interested in buying his companies – including a visit by Wal-Mart heir and then chairman Rob Walton several years ago – Wiese sees himself firmly in command of his empire for the foreseeable future. Ahead, there’s one obvious final frontier for Africa’s retail pioneer: America. “We’ve been hesitant to plunge into the retail industry there. What can we teach them?” he says. “But we’re looking at getting involved there – one or two opportunities.
“In a decade I’m hoping you’ll find the business has grown, hopefully at the same pace as the previous decade. That will require a lot of thinking, a lot of commitment and a lot of energy – and I’m hoping that you’ll find me right here still.”

Africa’s Sam Walton

Nigeria is a nation that knows all too well what damage dictatorships can do. Between 1966 and 1999, the country saw several military coups, culminating in Sani Abacha seizing power. From 1993 to 1998, Abacha’s rule marked a period of oppression, inflation and poverty. As a business owner, the main objective was to stay afloat.
For those brave enough to speak out against the regime, the punishment was either death by hanging or prison. Atrocities were commonplace in an atmosphere of desolation. In 1998, when Abacha died, Tonye Cole, the Co-Founder of Sahara Group, remembers it like yesterday.
“I remember exactly where I was when Abacha died. I remember people jubilating and singing and it was as if an air of relief had happened. I remember my partner had just got married and we were closing a major transaction so he delayed his honeymoon and stayed in Lagos. It is one of those moments in life where you remember key places you were. And the first expression was that of relief from everybody and then the next day reality set in,” says Cole.
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Tonye ColeFor the first time in years, hope dispelled despair. Cole was invested and happy.
“My partners and I had been working for three years and pushing ourselves really hard. We just got to the point where we were establishing ourselves as a business. Everything seemed to be going right. We had been working on an oil transaction and collected our allocation to load the products. At that point, all the brokers who we collected our oil allocation from had been paid by us. This is what you call betting on the horse. We had taken everything we owned and put it on this single deal,” says Cole.
Cole believed there was nothing more to be done but wait for the return on investment. Then the new government cancelled every contract that was issued by the Abacha administration.
The three young men had pumped everything they had earned for the past two years into the deal. Overnight, Cole and his partners went bankrupt. The trio had invested $400,000 of their savings in the supply and distribution of oil contracts from their new venture. For Cole, this was not the first time he lost everything. The first time was the catalyst for him to take control of his own fate. Ironically, he was hitting rock bottom again.
“If you are an entrepreneur, you are going to get bad days and if you are a successful one you are going to get even more bad days. As young people, this was all we had. People had collected their commission and nobody wanted to help us. We knew we had nothing to lose. Everything was gone. The good thing was that we had records and payment to brokers and their assignments they had given us. So we put the files together and walked into the office of a man we had never met before. We waited until we had an opportunity to speak to him and we locked the door,” says Cole.
It was 2PM on a Monday. The drive to the office of Mallam Lawan Buba, Group Executive Director, Commercial and Investment, Nigerian National Petroleum Company (NNPC), was a quiet one with all three men contemplating the gravity of what had just happened. Cole remembered advice his father, Patrick, had given him years ago. He told his son to spend five years working and learning from different companies before embarking on his own business venture. Cole had already served the five years but, in hindsight, he wondered if an additional five years could have saved him from this catastrophe.
Cole and his partners spent weeks trying to secure an appointment with the man seated in front of them that day. As Cole stood in Buba’s office, a fleeting fear gripped him. They had leveraged their one good relationship with the company’s secretary to get this appointment and if things did not go according to plan, not only would they still be bankrupt but the secretary could lose her job as well. Cole tried to read the expression on the face of Buba and drew a blank. He then regained his composure and approached the man who had the power to change their destiny.
The trio made their impassioned plea to Buba, the man responsible for the allocation of oil contracts. They showed him their legitimate contracts, payments made and financial records for the past three years. Cole took a cue from his father’s days running for president of Nigeria and gave a fervent speech on why they believed they could make a difference by creating employment and establishing an indigenous oil business, one of the first of its kind.
Buba listened to their plea and told them to wait. That was the end of the journey; there was nothing more the young entrepreneurs could do. As they left, it occurred to Cole that this could be the end of a lifetime of hard work.
“Failure teaches you a lot. As an entrepreneur I am not afraid of failure but I must learn from it,” says Cole.
During the two-hour trip back home, Cole’s life flashed before him.
Cole had three major influences growing up. His creative side was nourished by his mother, who was a journalist for one of the leading publications in Nigeria. From his father, Cole learned the skills of diplomacy and how to be a mediator on account of his role as an ambassador to Brazil. From his stepmother, Cole was given the foundations of the Christian faith upon which he built his life principles. Born in January 1967 in Port Harcourt, the capital of Rivers State, Cole and his family relocated to Anambra State during the civil war. Cole had a nomadic existence, shuffling between guardians. He learned to be self-sufficient and stumbled into his career by what he calls divine intervention.
“I ended up studying architecture because the subjects I had taken for O-levels in secondary school aligned more with the profession. I went to the University of Lagos to study architecture and then found that it was something that was perfectly suited for me. It rewards extreme hard work and punishes laziness to a fault. You had to imagine things and create it in your mind long before it comes on paper,” says Cole.
After university, Cole joined Brazilian architectural firm Grupo Quattro SA where he oversaw the construction of the new Palmas city developments in Tocantins, Brazil. This was a slight deviation from his plan to work for himself.
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“When I was in university, we had already set up a business where I created architectural drawings and designs for different companies and teachers, as well as perfecting their existing designs,” he says.
Cole’s father influenced his decision to go to Brazil and leave.
“I have this belief and patriotic zeal in Nigeria and I believe we all have a role to play. My father had decided to run for the presidency in Nigeria and I decided to relocate to help him with his campaign,” he says.
Back in Nigeria, Cole Joined EMSA S.A. – one of Brazil’s largest engineering firms. He was the head of operations and business development in the country.
“They needed someone in Nigeria who could speak Portuguese and someone they could trust to implement a World Bank project. I now had this job, which was an engineering job, and it involved traveling around the country meeting government officials and business development. I had a wonderful salary at an expatriate rate, a company car and all the corporate perks. I had no interest at this point to do anything entrepreneurial. I was very comfortable,” says Cole.
Nigeria had just fallen under Abacha’s military regime. The initial hope and excitement turned to gloom. Almost overnight, the military started throwing people in jail. Riots ensued all over the country, leading to the exit of foreign businesses, like EMSA, from the Nigerian economy. The company signed off all the contracts and instructed Cole to liquidate everything.
“I said to myself ‘I am never leaving my fate in another person’s hands again,’” says Cole.
Prior to this, Tope Shonubi and Ade Odunsi had teamed up to start a new business venture in the burgeoning oil industry. Cole had turned down the offer to join the team in favour of his hefty salary and company perks. The offer was made once again, and now finding himself unemployed, Cole accepted. It was the birth of the Sahara Group, a leading private power, energy, gas and infrastructure conglomerate established two years before the end of Abacha’s rule in 1998.
All of this led to Cole walking out of the office of Buba, the man with their oil contracts. A week later, they got a call promising to reinstate their cancelled contracts over one year. Cole learned a valuable lesson.
“Don’t rely on one product and one country. In 1998, we got some of our contracts back and by 1999 we were in Ghana and then subsequently in Côte d’Ivoire, the United Kingdom, Switzerland, Singapore and the UAE.”
Today, the Group has around 20 operations across the energy sector with 660 employees. Sahara began as a facilitator in the oil sector, acting as a middleman between producers, marketers and traders. This year marks their 20-year anniversary and there is a lot to celebrate. The company has diversified into utilities, real estate, farming and infrastructure. Among its many developments is the $400-million Lekki power project in Lagos.
“When we came in there were not a lot of people in the business of trading and exploration of oil. When you talk about someone in the oil business back then, the most they would be were petrol station owners. We were the first pioneers to come into this aspect of the business,” says Cole.
Being trailblazers served the company well. The first major break happened about a year and a half after the company started. A major tool in the oil trade is the ability to have a letter of credit, popularly known as an LC. This is a guarantee taken on by a bank to make payments on behalf of the client, provided certain terms are met.
As brokers, Cole and his team will get allocations and trade them off to those who had an LC and then get their commission from the deal and plough it back into the business. For the initial period, Sahara could not open an LC, which was a major stumbling block for its growth.
“We couldn’t even open a dollar account in the beginning because the banks did not trust Nigerian businesses and this is a dollar denominated business. So we had to use a lot of innovation to get LCs. We asked our international clients to open an account for us so we could receive the payments, which they did with ease and secondly, we made sure that any LCs our clients opened, was done in our name,” says Cole.
Another major breakthrough happened when financial giant BNP Paribas approached the firm after two years of trading and helped them to finally open an LC in the company’s name.
As Cole turns 49 this year, he is slightly nostalgic when asked about his success in the oil business. He takes a deep breath and, for the first time during his interview, the charismatic and energetic entrepreneur assumes an almost vulnerable disposition as he talks of his multimillion-dollar empire.
“I am not sure I will be anywhere I am without my wife. She has allowed me to work and to be able to do what I do. I travel a lot and the ability to come in and go out without anybody being as clingy and commanding has been very helpful. Family wise, she makes me look good with everybody in my family because she is the one who keeps in touch with everyone. She is my perfect complement,” he says.
Cole met the love of his life 22 years ago at university. She was 16 going on 17 and he was in his third year of studies at the age of 18. Cole spent two years trying to convince his wife that he was the perfect match for her and years later, with three children, he calls her the glue that holds everything together.
Success can be fleeting. It has been a number of years since the company almost went bankrupt. In those days, the focus was on staying afloat as a business. Today, the Sahara Group has set up a foundation with a mandate of helping 12 million people in the next four years. The company contributes 5% of its profit to the foundation, which has worked with international not-for-profit organizations to eradicate Guinea worm disease, cataracts and cleft palates.
Faced with a global drop in oil prices, a resurgence of Boko Haram in the north of Nigeria and conflict in the Niger Delta, the West African nation’s economy is facing economic and social challenges. For Cole, his fate is firmly back in his hands. He has a much better understanding of the industry he operates in.
“We are in a boom and bust business, so these challenges are all part of life. We know when it is high and when it is low. Once oil prices are low you adjust immediately as an organization. You look at waste and how to cut it. We try as much as possible not to cut staff, we talk to them and let them understand that they need to be a lot more efficient in the things they do. It is all about planning ahead,” he says.
As Cole looks to the future, he sums up the strategy that has served him well so far.
“Let people think you have 10, act like you have only one but make sure you have 100.”

The MILLIONAIRE Of Oil And Toil

Every year, the month of March serves as a special time to reflect on the meaning of International Women’s Day.
In Rwanda, this year’s special month was welcome through a series of events, highlighting the roles played by all our women in the building of our nation, while also celebrating their innovative and entrepreneurial spirits.
The past weeks saw different generations come together to assess the work to be done for the continuous empowerment of our women in our various communities, building on how far we have come.
This was also a time to look back at the dignified Rwandan woman, who more than half a century later, we still remember vividly. The many who were taken away from us, and the last few, who in our darkest times, beautifully drew from the deepest roots of our culture, to keep their families together, and to nurture an abiding love and patriotism for our nation.
These women inspired us to aim for more, to do more, to never lose hope. They were the ones that kept a candle lit in our darkest times, as their star never dimmed in the starkest night. I believe history will always praise the sacrifices they consented for our communities, for their selflessness was not in vain.
The generation of sons and daughters they bore and raised, made the ultimate sacrifice, and shouldered the task of building a new and dignified nation.
It is in fact more than a moral obligation to never forget the high price paid, to be who we are today. We are forever indebted to them for investing in the future of their children and making it the purpose of their lives.
We will forever be grateful and rejoice in their achievements, while drawing pride and lessons from every obstacle they overcame as we continue to work tirelessly for this land to see the peace, respect and dignity all her sons and daughters deserve.
We will never say it enough; our Rwandan woman is truly remarkable! Her essence is made of strength and courage that define her.
Our history is filled with brave women of all ages who refused to be complicit in tearing apart our country, and were not bystanders to injustice and violence but instead they made the difficult but right choice. From the Nyange schoolgirls who paid the ultimate price with their lives, refusing to be separated along ethnic lines; to the wives who stood up against their husbands, refusing to stay silent in the face of the crimes they committed.
I think of women like Rose Mureshyankwano, who for years believed in sectarian ideology but ultimately freed herself from divisive politics. Women raised by those who carefully planned and executed the genocide, who finally broke the cycle of perpetual hatred from one generation to another; to all of those who now call themselves proud daughters of Rwanda.
We also honor the widows, who despite their aching hearts formed new families and cherished the genocide orphans who longed for their warm motherly love. These beloved Rwandan women earned the endearing name, Les Mamans Affection, for finding in them the courage to give some more, after so much had been taken away from them.
These women are indeed much more than a mother, wife, sister and daughter.
This dignified, remarkable, beloved Rwandan woman is the matriarch, pioneer, leader, descended from greatness, who holds high the torch that lights the way for others. She paves the way and weaves the thread to those who need to hear her stories, so they too, will know that within them, lie the tools to resilience.
Through her passion, she engaged us. Through her words, she educated us. Through her actions, she empowered us.
I speak from the heart, when I say we are proud of you, powerful Rwandan woman. You are the rock upon which we have built our foundation and you have now reclaimed your rightful place among the leaders of our country. Unwavering and firm, you lift up your song in synchrony with that of your brothers’ chorus, which for too long had been missing your soft, yet, powerful voice.
The word ‘no’ never stopped you from pushing on to new frontiers, for without your determination, who would the younger ones look up to? Through you, future generations will know that a woman’s worth is equal to any man’s.
So, now and always, we pay tribute to you.
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– The writer, Her Excellency Jeannette Kagame, is the First Lady of the Republic of Rwanda.

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