Mahatma Gandhi’s philosophy of satyagraha, or the insistence on truth and passive resistance, marked the beginning of his pursuit for equality and acceptance. My great great grandfather walked the two lands I hold dear, India and South Africa, paving the way for independence in each, shifting the course of history and setting ideals that would be emulated by many.
South Africa a hundred years ago was a starkly different country engulfed by the dark shadows of colonialism. Many learnt about Gandhi, the slight, bald and bespectacled man clad in little else than a loin cloth who began his journey of passive resistance in South Africa, which paved the way for India’s independence. I learnt about Bapuji (what Gandhi is fondly called) the man who instilled the value of satyagraha in his children and grandchildren.
His legacy was this power of satyagraha. Gandhi’s willingness to risk his freedom through civil disobedience without violence was the core of this phenomenon. Converting the opposing force or resisting with love was novel. The allure of the movement is that once you are charmed by the stories of passive resistance, satyagraha becomes firmly entrenched in you.
Perhaps the one legacy that has impacted the Gandhi family the most has been his printing press. After 10 years of a relentless crusade, Gandhi realized that the twin tasks of mobilizing public opinion and influencing official decisions required a newspaper.
As a great great grandchild returning to the Phoenix settlement in Durban in South Africa, it is often quite incredible to imagine that Gandhi, the commercial lawyer, had the foresight to understand the power of the media by starting a newspaper, Indian Opinion. This is perhaps why so many members of my family, and I, often seek solace in words to articulate our thoughts. The allure is in the history of Indian Opinion, where words became the cornerstone for change and acceptance.
As a family, we are often so disillusioned by the times, the violence and the conflict that seems to have engulfed the world. Disillusionment is soothed, however, by gentle reminders.
Phoenix transformed into a place for community living, a hundred acres of land with a school, a clinic and an arena for activists to meet in the true tradition of Gandhi’s philosophy. Family reunions are often spent retracing these moments with afternoons at Phoenix settlement in the company of my great aunt Ela Gandhi who takes us on nostalgic adventures.
We sit captivated by tales of our great great grandfather who began as a timid young boy, became a lawyer and transformed into a movement. We are awe-struck by the accounts of unwavering and untainted passive resistance, we listen with bated breath at the steadfast ideals he passed on from generation to generation, beginning with his four sons who were instilled with strong work ethics, a moral compass and ideals.
The narrative of satyagraha echoes in South Africa’s own stories of struggle. Born a few years before the end of the apartheid in South Africa, I grew up listening to stories of resistance, the underlying message of peace and passivity often serving as the moral. In tales that could compete with Aessop’s fables, I regaled in South Africa’s history as told by family and friends. Growing up, there was a lot I didn’t fully understand. I didn’t understand human rights, I didn’t understand equality or freedom, because I couldn’t fathom not having them or anyone else being denied them. Herein lies the magic of my family and the legacy that follows us. My bedtime stories were mesmerizing tales of people I knew, these formidable men and dignified women who had become the personification of satyagraha. They had guaranteed me my human rights, my equality, my freedom. I was surrounded by these people who had fought vehemently for what they believed in and told me their enthralling stories while I sat wide-eyed, listening intently, scared I might miss a word. These stories reincarnated Gandhi’s legacy in a timeline of differing contexts, satyagraha was imbibed into the fight for democracy.
Satyagraha has undoubtedly become a global movement but it is a legacy deep-rooted in my family. History lessons for 45 minutes a day, reading begrudgingly from a textbook or listening to my teachers, had little impact in comparison to the firsthand accounts I received, the anecdotes on Gandhi and his quest for equality.
Bapuji’s legacy has stretched far beyond the notion of satyagraha, it is entrenched in the freedoms I hold dear today, it is deeply embedded in the history of South Africa, and is a guiding force for anything I write. For me, his legacy is the ability to create a fundamental shift in the conscience of the masses through the written word.

Sunita-Menon

Gandhi

Paula Slier, Middle East Bureau Chief for Russia Today and CEO and founder of Newshoundmedia, has worked in broadcasting for over 20 years as a foreign correspondent, anchor and news editor, and received numerous awards for her work. Her work has included reporting live under fire in Tripoli while Muammar Gadaffi’s forces were on the offensive, and crawling through a tunnel with Hamas smugglers in Gaza.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29783 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2-300x169.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="169" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2-300x169.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2-600x337.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2-1024x576.jpg 1024w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/PS-Ukraine2.jpg 1023w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
A TEFI-nominated (Russia’s highest television award) journalist for her reporting on Libya, she also reports from the frontline in Iraq, Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Libya, Egypt, Gaza and Lebanon. Prior to reporting for Russia Today, she was senior assignment news editor and anchored breaking news and special events for SABC.
Q.Where are you now
[in November]?
<ol>
<li>I am currently in Eastern Ukraine covering the battle between pro-Russian fighters and the Ukrainian military. [In October], I was on the Turkey-Syria border, 500 meters from the city of Kobane where Syrian Kurds are fighting with ISIS. Before that, I spent two weeks in Iraq embedded with the Peshmerga soldiers (Iraqi Kurds) on the frontline. I slept alongside them, outside behind their sandbags, to be woken up by US warplanes at three in the morning bombing ISIS positions nearby and the Peshmerga fighters’ firing shells a few kilometers into the distance. A highlight was spending time with the YPJ women fighters – some as young as 17 years old – who had given up school to fight ISIS.</li>
<li>What plans for the new year? Where will you be?</li>
<li>It’s impossible to say because I can get a call at any moment, even in the middle of the night, and be asked by my news editor to get on the next available flight to …and here the dots can be anywhere from Syria to Afghanistan to Egypt. The last time I took a holiday was a few months back. I’d gone to Thailand and was on the massage bed when the SMS came. Major fighting had broken out in Ukraine and I was asked if I could cut my holiday short and fly there immediately. As you can imagine I had the wrong clothing with me. I arrived in Ukraine with summer dresses, swimming costumes and sandals to cover a war. I had organized with the cameraman who met me in Ukraine to go past my home and pack warm, appropriate clothes for me, but he was stopped at airport security – not because he had bullet-proof jackets and helmets, but because he was traveling with women’s clothing!</li>
</ol>
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29781 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2-300x168.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="168" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2-300x168.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2-600x336.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2-768x430.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2-1024x574.jpg 1024w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Iraq-2.jpg 1023w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
<ol>
<li>Are holidays not in the diaries of war correspondents?</li>
<li>We like to pencil them in, but realistically we probably change the dates on average about four to five times for each trip. I’m supposed to take the rest of my Thailand holiday at the end of this month but I’m delaying booking the flights until the absolute last minute.</li>
<li>As a female war reporter, are there any specific challenges?</li>
<li>I’m often asked if I think being a woman aids or makes my job more difficult. I think it’s a mixture of both. On the one hand being female has helped me gain access to sources who might be more difficult to reach if I was a man. Especially in the Middle East, where many societies are quite patriarchal, women reporters often are seen as a third androgynous sex if you like – I get to sit with Taliban fighters and sip tea while their wives and daughters are in the other room. It feels like they don’t know what to do with me. But I’ve also interviewed Hamas leaders who don’t look directly at me when answering questions because I’m female. It was difficult covering the Egyptian protests in Tahrir Square as a woman. A few women journalists were raped and not-so-few were sexually assaulted and harassed, prompting ‘Reporters Without Borders’ to urge news organizations not to send women there. The association later amended their statement, warning rather that “security should be paramount”. Certainly some of the physical risks we face are greater than our male colleagues – although threats like kidnappings and intimidation are the same.</li>
<li>What are the highs of war reporting?</li>
<li>It’s a high to be on the cutting edge of news, to be at that spot on earth where all the world’s TV cameras are pointing, to be in the thick of history. I get to have experiences most people can only dream of – in the morning I could be interviewing street children, in the afternoon, I could be flying in a military helicopter and by evening, dining with a president. One of my favorite stories is when I was on foot patrol with US forces in Afghanistan and a group of children kept running after us. Much later, when we paused at a school for a few minutes, I took off my bullet-proof jacket and helmet and one of the boys, slightly aghast, came up to me and asked: “Ma’am, does your husband know you’ve left the house?”</li>
</ol>

grad5

‘I Arrived With Swimming Costumes To Cover A War’

Even though indigenous African foods, eaten mostly in rural Africa and among low-income populations, are rarely promoted by mainstream healthy living analysts, they have some of the greatest health properties imaginable.
<h4>Preventing breast and cervical cancer</h4>
The massive shift from traditional diets to modern diets is one of the major reasons behind increasing incidences of breast cancer. Wild mushrooms and tamarind, a sweet and sour wild fruit, are among countless foods that have several powerful cancer-fighting nutrients. Both tamarind and mushrooms are rich in selenium, a nutrient widely renowned for not only preventing but also slowing the progression of cancer cells. These wonder foods are also packed with potent anti oxidants while tamarind boasts high levels of vitamin C, nutrients that work efficiently to scavenge cancer causing radicals.
Folate, also called vitamin B9, in amaranth and cowpeas, is a perfect antidote for cervical cancer. This amazing nutrient protects the cervix from the cancer-causing human papillomavirus in the event of exposure. And if cervical cancer already exists, folate immensely slows the progression of cancer cells.
<h4>For anti-aging</h4>
Indigenous African foods are endowed with unmatched anti-aging nutrients. The tartaric acid in tamarind, for example, is rich in strong antioxidants that slow down aging, keep skin looking young, and reduce the appearance of wrinkles while the amaranth plant has a unique mineral combination that delays grey hair and fights balding.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29773 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Pregnant-ladyt-etch-146x300.jpg" alt="" width="146" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Pregnant-ladyt-etch-146x300.jpg 146w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Pregnant-ladyt-etch-300x616.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Pregnant-ladyt-etch.jpg 498w" sizes="(max-width: 146px) 100vw, 146px" />
<h4>For fertility and  healthy pregnancies</h4>
The tons of folate in amaranth and cowpeas increase a woman’s chances of becoming pregnant. And during pregnancy, folate safeguards against miscarriages and is instrumental in the formation and development of the spine and the brain of the unborn child. Folate is so vital to this process that lack of folate in the diets of pregnant women has been tied to birth deformities of the spine and brain. Iron, another key nutrient abundantly present in amaranth and cowpeas, ensures the supply of blood and oxygen to both mother and unborn child.

Quick-Shot-Shutterstock.com-

Bites Of Rural Africa

Class, culture and sheer opulence are hallmarks of an urban Nigerian wedding. Lagos is emerging a wedding planner’s playground. Every weekend sees one or the other wedding convoy making its grand sojourn through the city.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29748 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/c57907c076cb3533fdee4d24678e019d-291x300.jpg" alt="" width="291" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/c57907c076cb3533fdee4d24678e019d-291x300.jpg 291w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/c57907c076cb3533fdee4d24678e019d-300x309.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/c57907c076cb3533fdee4d24678e019d-600x618.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/c57907c076cb3533fdee4d24678e019d.jpg 617w" sizes="(max-width: 291px) 100vw, 291px" />
But destination weddings are the order of the day. Be it Mauritius, Cape Town or Dubai, the venues are getting more creative, and the event planners boast busy calendars, globe-trotting from one exotic venue to another. All they ask for is a meaty budget.
Mati Gono is a London-based wedding planner specializing in premium and tailor-made wedding experiences for her clients. The clientele of her events company, Just as Planned, is 85% elite Nigerian. Her specialty is organizing the A to Z of lavish nuptials.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29747 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/223A3795-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3795-300x200.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3795-600x400.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3795-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3795-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3795.jpg 1023w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
“Nigerian weddings are very colorful, opulent and there is never a dull moment. They are full of culture and the family is usually the focus. So whether there is the traditional breaking of the Kola nut, an opening prayer, or a live band, Nigerian weddings are full of character and the guests really come out to celebrate the couple getting married,” says Gono.
Gono, who recently planned a $161,000 Nigerian wedding, is accustomed to the lofty expectations of her clients.
“On one of our most demanding weddings to date, we had to ensure the service and hospitality was 110%, due to the types of guests we had attending. The logistics were a little challenging [it was a wedding in central London] but I like a challenge and we pulled it off.”
Attending the wedding were high-profile guests, including the bride’s brother, Nigerian footballer Victor Chinedu Anichebe, who plays for West Bromwich Albion, and US reality TV star Angela Simmons.
The traditional aspects of a Nigerian wedding involve color, culture and identity. Cloth merchants who sell traditional fabrics experience year-round boom – the grander the nuptials, the more expensive and richer the fabric.
Glamorous designer gowns – as many as three – are a must. As is music. Best-selling artists and live bands are flown in from across the world to perform. In addition is the use of newer trends in technology and media. The runup to the wedding is given enough coverage on social media: hash tags are de rigeur.
“The couple use it to inform their guests as this enables friends and family to share their special day with the world,” says Gono.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29749 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-200x300.jpg 200w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-300x450.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-600x900.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-768x1152.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784-683x1024.jpg 683w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/223A3784.jpg 682w" sizes="(max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px" />
Another trend is the unique chandelier wedding cake. It’s one of the many wow elements of a wedding, says Gono. From venues that cost £50,000, centerpieces and decorations that cost £5,000, to catering at £10,675, it is all about flashing the cash. Gono has been fully involved in the business of weddings, and already has bookings for the new year. But she has always had a love for event planning. The very first wedding she planned and executed successfully was in 2007, and there was no looking back. She started her company in 2011.
“It was a natural calling. It all started with coordinating a few events for friends and family and it grew from there,” says Gono, as she animatedly prepares for her next overseas trip looking for an even more exciting destination for another lucky bride and groom.

IMG_6526

The Wedding Cake  As Chandelier?

Royal visits are a big deal in Africa, whether lions to a waterhole or a crowned head of Europe to the southern tip. This particular tale of royalty visiting South Africa starts, strangely enough, in the snows of Davos at a lunch on obsession.
‘Is obsession always a good thing, or can it be bad’ was the title of a lunchtime session at the World Economic Forum at Davos, and Steffi Graf was one of seven scheduled speakers.
<div id="attachment_3292" style="width: 209px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-3292" class="size-medium wp-image-3292" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_Par3359784-199x300.jpg" alt="" width="199" height="300" />Princess Mathilde (L) and Crownprince Philippe of Belgium (R) attend the military parade in Brussels on July 21, 2010, as part of the Belgian National Day. AFP PHOTO / BELGA PHOTO / ERIC LALMAND &#8211; BELGIUM OUT</div>
A tall, rather refined looking chap politely asked if he could occupy the chair next to mine.
“Of course, you needn&#8217;t ask, people can sit where they like,” I said.
“Ah, but you are important. Your name is writ large on the table, next to Ms Graf so I did need to ask.”
I chuckled. “Just the moderator of the session, not important at all,” I said.
“And who are you?” I asked, squinting at his large white card hanging from the participant ribbon everyone wears.
“Philippe,” he said.
“And what do you do, Philippe? I need to put you in a pigeonhole.”
“I&#8217;m a prince.”
“Oh? So what do you do?”
Slightly taken aback, he said, “I&#8217;m the Crown Prince of Belgium.”
“Yes, but what do you actually do? What is a Crown Prince&#8217;s job?”
“I help the government, I suppose. Actually I work pretty hard,” he reassured me, but now slightly aloof, I thought, realizing I’d been rather rude to royalty.
We were joined by the tennis wunderkind, lunch was underway, she spoke movingly of how she became obsessed with tennis, which brought her some happiness but also a lot of sadness as a child.
“When I was an unhappy girl because of fighting in the family, I would get over it by going out and hitting a ball against a wall,” said the tennis champion, world number one for 187 consecutive weeks.
“So when I made my first Wimbledon final, I told my coach I needed to hit against a wall. This is bad for your tennis, he said, and so he would not allow it. In fact there are no walls to hit against at Wimbledon anyway.”
“So I fired my coach the morning of my final and the officials found a wall against which I could hit a ball at a nearby school. I am not sure that kind of obsession is a good thing,” shy Steffi said with a smile.
She was world number one, for a total of 377 weeks and has 22 grand slam singles titles. “If I&#8217;d been world number one for just one week I&#8217;d have died a happy man,” I told the audience, and the Prince.
“By the way, I&#8217;m coming to South Africa in about six months,” he said.
“Great! Give me a call and you can come have lunch,” I said, and promptly forgot about it.
Seven months later, my rather bemused secretary said, “The Palace is on the line for you.”
A very plummy, terribly British voice said: “His Royal Highness Prince Philippe says you invited him to lunch and he’d like to take up the offer&#8230;”
“Certainly,” I spluttered.
“He is coming with an entourage, and asks if he may&#8230;”
“Of course, they are all welcome.”
“Good,” said plummy voice. “There are 124 of them.”
Astounded silence from me, laughter from him.
“No, he just wants to bring the five or six cabinet ministers traveling with him.”
And so, sometime in Africa, it came to pass that Prince Philippe dined at The Star with assorted ministers of state.
Soon after our function, Belgium’s government failed spectacularly, leaving the country without any government for months.
On July 21 last year, my prince became King Philippe. He did say, in thanking me after our modest repast, that if I ever found myself in Belgium I should visit him at the palace. I have never taken up the offer. He was only the Crown Prince then.
Perhaps I&#8217;ll pop in one day just to ask him impertinently: “So, what does a King actually do?”
Royal visits are a big deal in Africa, whether lions to a waterhole or a crowned head of Europe to the southern tip. This particular tale of royalty visiting South Africa starts, strangely enough, in the snows of Davos at a lunch on obsession.
‘Is obsession always a good thing, or can it be bad’ was the title of a lunchtime session at the World Economic Forum at Davos, and Steffi Graf was one of seven scheduled speakers.
A tall, rather refined looking chap politely asked if he could occupy the chair next to mine.
“Of course, you needn&#8217;t ask, people can sit where they like,” I said.
“Ah, but you are important. Your name is writ large on the table, next to Ms Graf so I did need to ask.”
I chuckled. “Just the moderator of the session, not important at all,” I said.
“And who are you?” I asked, squinting at his large white card hanging from the participant ribbon everyone wears.
“Philippe,” he said.
“And what do you do, Philippe? I need to put you in a pigeonhole.”
“I&#8217;m a prince.”
“Oh? So what do you do?”
Slightly taken aback, he said, “I&#8217;m the Crown Prince of Belgium.”
“Yes, but what do you actually do? What is a Crown Prince&#8217;s job?”
“I help the government, I suppose. Actually I work pretty hard,” he reassured me, but now slightly aloof, I thought, realizing I’d been rather rude to royalty.
We were joined by the tennis wunderkind, lunch was underway, she spoke movingly of how she became obsessed with tennis, which brought her some happiness but also a lot of sadness as a child.
“When I was an unhappy girl because of fighting in the family, I would get over it by going out and hitting a ball against a wall,” said the tennis champion, world number one for 187 consecutive weeks.
“So when I made my first Wimbledon final, I told my coach I needed to hit against a wall. This is bad for your tennis, he said, and so he would not allow it. In fact there are no walls to hit against at Wimbledon anyway.”
“So I fired my coach the morning of my final and the officials found a wall against which I could hit a ball at a nearby school. I am not sure that kind of obsession is a good thing,” shy Steffi said with a smile.
She was world number one, for a total of 377 weeks and has 22 grand slam singles titles. “If I&#8217;d been world number one for just one week I&#8217;d have died a happy man,” I told the audience, and the Prince.
“By the way, I&#8217;m coming to South Africa in about six months,” he said.
“Great! Give me a call and you can come have lunch,” I said, and promptly forgot about it.
Seven months later, my rather bemused secretary said, “The Palace is on the line for you.”
A very plummy, terribly British voice said: “His Royal Highness Prince Philippe says you invited him to lunch and he’d like to take up the offer&#8230;”
“Certainly,” I spluttered.
“He is coming with an entourage, and asks if he may&#8230;”
“Of course, they are all welcome.”
“Good,” said plummy voice. “There are 124 of them.”
Astounded silence from me, laughter from him.
“No, he just wants to bring the five or six cabinet ministers traveling with him.”
And so, sometime in Africa, it came to pass that Prince Philippe dined at The Star with assorted ministers of state.
Soon after our function, Belgium’s government failed spectacularly, leaving the country without any government for months.
On July 21 last year, my prince became King Philippe. He did say, in thanking me after our modest repast, that if I ever found myself in Belgium I should visit him at the palace. I have never taken up the offer. He was only the Crown Prince then.
Perhaps I&#8217;ll pop in one day just to ask him impertinently: “So, what does a King actually do?”
Royal visits are a big deal in Africa, whether lions to a waterhole or a crowned head of Europe to the southern tip. This particular tale of royalty visiting South Africa starts, strangely enough, in the snows of Davos at a lunch on obsession.
‘Is obsession always a good thing, or can it be bad’ was the title of a lunchtime session at the World Economic Forum at Davos, and Steffi Graf was one of seven scheduled speakers.
A tall, rather refined looking chap politely asked if he could occupy the chair next to mine.
“Of course, you needn&#8217;t ask, people can sit where they like,” I said.
“Ah, but you are important. Your name is writ large on the table, next to Ms Graf so I did need to ask.”
I chuckled. “Just the moderator of the session, not important at all,” I said.
“And who are you?” I asked, squinting at his large white card hanging from the participant ribbon everyone wears.
“Philippe,” he said.
“And what do you do, Philippe? I need to put you in a pigeonhole.”
“I&#8217;m a prince.”
“Oh? So what do you do?”
Slightly taken aback, he said, “I&#8217;m the Crown Prince of Belgium.”
“Yes, but what do you actually do? What is a Crown Prince&#8217;s job?”
“I help the government, I suppose. Actually I work pretty hard,” he reassured me, but now slightly aloof, I thought, realizing I’d been rather rude to royalty.
We were joined by the tennis wunderkind, lunch was underway, she spoke movingly of how she became obsessed with tennis, which brought her some happiness but also a lot of sadness as a child.
“When I was an unhappy girl because of fighting in the family, I would get over it by going out and hitting a ball against a wall,” said the tennis champion, world number one for 187 consecutive weeks.
“So when I made my first Wimbledon final, I told my coach I needed to hit against a wall. This is bad for your tennis, he said, and so he would not allow it. In fact there are no walls to hit against at Wimbledon anyway.”
“So I fired my coach the morning of my final and the officials found a wall against which I could hit a ball at a nearby school. I am not sure that kind of obsession is a good thing,” shy Steffi said with a smile.
She was world number one, for a total of 377 weeks and has 22 grand slam singles titles. “If I&#8217;d been world number one for just one week I&#8217;d have died a happy man,” I told the audience, and the Prince.
“By the way, I&#8217;m coming to South Africa in about six months,” he said.
“Great! Give me a call and you can come have lunch,” I said, and promptly forgot about it.
Seven months later, my rather bemused secretary said, “The Palace is on the line for you.”
A very plummy, terribly British voice said: “His Royal Highness Prince Philippe says you invited him to lunch and he’d like to take up the offer&#8230;”
“Certainly,” I spluttered.
“He is coming with an entourage, and asks if he may&#8230;”
“Of course, they are all welcome.”
“Good,” said plummy voice. “There are 124 of them.”
Astounded silence from me, laughter from him.
“No, he just wants to bring the five or six cabinet ministers traveling with him.”
And so, sometime in Africa, it came to pass that Prince Philippe dined at The Star with assorted ministers of state.
Soon after our function, Belgium’s government failed spectacularly, leaving the country without any government for months.
On July 21 last year, my prince became King Philippe. He did say, in thanking me after our modest repast, that if I ever found myself in Belgium I should visit him at the palace. I have never taken up the offer. He was only the Crown Prince then.
Perhaps I&#8217;ll pop in one day just to ask him impertinently: “So, what does a King actually do?”
Royal visits are a big deal in Africa, whether lions to a waterhole or a crowned head of Europe to the southern tip. This particular tale of royalty visiting South Africa starts, strangely enough, in the snows of Davos at a lunch on obsession.
‘Is obsession always a good thing, or can it be bad’ was the title of a lunchtime session at the World Economic Forum at Davos, and Steffi Graf was one of seven scheduled speakers.
A tall, rather refined looking chap politely asked if he could occupy the chair next to mine.
“Of course, you needn&#8217;t ask, people can sit where they like,” I said.
“Ah, but you are important. Your name is writ large on the table, next to Ms Graf so I did need to ask.”
I chuckled. “Just the moderator of the session, not important at all,” I said.
“And who are you?” I asked, squinting at his large white card hanging from the participant ribbon everyone wears.
“Philippe,” he said.
“And what do you do, Philippe? I need to put you in a pigeonhole.”
“I&#8217;m a prince.”
“Oh? So what do you do?”
Slightly taken aback, he said, “I&#8217;m the Crown Prince of Belgium.”
“Yes, but what do you actually do? What is a Crown Prince&#8217;s job?”
“I help the government, I suppose. Actually I work pretty hard,” he reassured me, but now slightly aloof, I thought, realizing I’d been rather rude to royalty.
We were joined by the tennis wunderkind, lunch was underway, she spoke movingly of how she became obsessed with tennis, which brought her some happiness but also a lot of sadness as a child.
“When I was an unhappy girl because of fighting in the family, I would get over it by going out and hitting a ball against a wall,” said the tennis champion, world number one for 187 consecutive weeks.
“So when I made my first Wimbledon final, I told my coach I needed to hit against a wall. This is bad for your tennis, he said, and so he would not allow it. In fact there are no walls to hit against at Wimbledon anyway.”
“So I fired my coach the morning of my final and the officials found a wall against which I could hit a ball at a nearby school. I am not sure that kind of obsession is a good thing,” shy Steffi said with a smile.
She was world number one, for a total of 377 weeks and has 22 grand slam singles titles. “If I&#8217;d been world number one for just one week I&#8217;d have died a happy man,” I told the audience, and the Prince.
“By the way, I&#8217;m coming to South Africa in about six months,” he said.
“Great! Give me a call and you can come have lunch,” I said, and promptly forgot about it.
Seven months later, my rather bemused secretary said, “The Palace is on the line for you.”
A very plummy, terribly British voice said: “His Royal Highness Prince Philippe says you invited him to lunch and he’d like to take up the offer&#8230;”
“Certainly,” I spluttered.
“He is coming with an entourage, and asks if he may&#8230;”
“Of course, they are all welcome.”
“Good,” said plummy voice. “There are 124 of them.”
Astounded silence from me, laughter from him.
“No, he just wants to bring the five or six cabinet ministers traveling with him.”
And so, sometime in Africa, it came to pass that Prince Philippe dined at The Star with assorted ministers of state.
Soon after our function, Belgium’s government failed spectacularly, leaving the country without any government for months.
On July 21 last year, my prince became King Philippe. He did say, in thanking me after our modest repast, that if I ever found myself in Belgium I should visit him at the palace. I have never taken up the offer. He was only the Crown Prince then.
Perhaps I&#8217;ll pop in one day just to ask him impertinently: “So, what does a King actually do?”

‘So, What Does A King Actually Do?’

The economic and political transformation of a country directly correlates with the education level of its demographics. With national priorities like health care, infrastructure, housing etc, it’s impossible for countries to manage supporting the entire value chain of education, from primary to secondary to vocational and tertiary. Add infrastructure and skills-development to the need for integrated research-based learning synonymous with quality education and what you have is a glaring resource gap.
This dilemma is consistent across most countries in the world, particularly those with low GDP per capita. Rather than concerted efforts, governments have spread themselves thin trying to do everything with limited resources. This has unfortunately resulted in mismanagement, no accountability, corruption and disillusionment. The intangible destruction of long-term wealth creation is in excess of the annual financial allocation as there is a widening gap between skills needed and the output from the efforts.
A growing question therefore is: where does a government allocate its resources and how does it integrate private sector investments? The answer is complex and not a one-size-fits-all solution.
During my travels in Africa over the last ten years, I have interacted with heads of state, ministers of education, regulators, and educational faculty. The maze of bureaucracy, legislation and processes created using historic models of education is shocking. It’s small wonder no one is willing to grab the bull by its horns and bring changes to help Africa leapfrog into the future rather than dwell in the past.
I will reflect on the tertiary sector. Looking at Africa, South Africa excluded, one sees a lack of good quality universities. It’s no surprise to see some 400,000 students going abroad for post-secondary programs annually, with nearly 300,000 originating from sub-Saharan Africa. With continuing growth of populations, economic output, and school and post-secondary enrolment rates, it’s expected one in five outbound mobile students will originate from Africa within the next 20 years.
It’s evident the business models of universities globally factor international students as a revenue source. These students pay higher fees. The irony is poor African countries are in many ways subsidizing the education of students of developed countries. The most unfortunate impact of this dichotomy is less than half the students return to the continent to add any value to the country that not only paid for their education but also subsidized their peers and for their pains, suffer a
brain drain.
Let’s put this in the context of the future. United Nations’ world population projections see it increasing to 9.6 billion by 2050, up by 2.4 billion from the current population. More than 50% of this growth will come from Africa (source: The Size of it, The Economist; June 18, 2013). Africa’s population will increase from about 10% of the world’s population to over 20% by 2050. It will undoubtedly have the youngest population on the planet and if transformation in the education sector is not made on a war-footing, the outcome is going to be catastrophic.
To cater to the population and given the overflow in current institutions, there is need to establish between 450 to 500 colleges and universities in Africa over the next 10 years. This growth needs investments in billions of dollars that governments clearly do not have. Firstly, legislation needs to be amended for foreign universities to establish on the continent. This is just one step to build capacity.
There are multifold advantages of bringing quality education brands to the continent. Firstly, these institutions are highly-ranked and bring with them best practices, systems, faculty, research capacity and world-class curriculum. The model should entail that the quality of academic delivery and entry requirements on the African campus should be the same as the home campus. It should allow students to transfer freely between various campuses for a global experience. The accreditations of these institutions should be based on degrees being offered by the home campus.
Secondly, there will be a slowdown of students going abroad focused mainly towards specialized training and not routine undergraduate or post-graduate courses. This will help retain skills in the region and conserve the foreign exchange drain. Thirdly, over time, the African branches of foreign universities will attract global students. Given the lower costs, excellent weather and natural beauty of Africa, there is no reason why education cannot become part of the continent’s export ecosystem. This will become increasingly important as universities in developed countries find it difficult to invest in new facilities owing to costs.
Another step governments must institute immediately is an offset program. All large defence, infrastructure, energy, mining and other contracts given to international or local companies should require a contribution towards setting up an international university in the country either through direct investment or through a centralized education fund. Similarly, all students sent to foreign universities through state funding must require the beneficiary university to offer some of their programs.
The other vital need is innovation. Education is no longer going to be about land and building. Consumption patterns of education are changing and with technology and broadband infrastructure development will emerge the opportunity for African states to bring about the latest delivery platforms. Changes from innovations are already being implemented by well-established universities in developed countries. Partnerships with them will help shorten the learning curve.
These illustrations demonstrate the need for the education ecosystem in Africa to be catalyzed. This can only happen through proactive steps for dynamic reforms from our leaders.
&nbsp;
&#8211; Rakesh Wahi is Vice-Chairman and
Co-founder of ABN Group.

HIGHER EDUCATION  IN AFRICA  AND THE RESOURCE GAP

Acentury ago, the Governor of the Hunan province famously began a censorship trend in China, that later reached its nadir under Mao Zedong’s cultural revolution, when he banned Lewis Carrol’s allegedly subversive literary waltz around the garden: Alice In Wonderland.
A few years ago, I found myself on the ragged borders of Hunan on an investigative trail that had taken me from rural Malawi to an obscure corner of China where 100 billion counterfeit cigarettes are mass-produced, literally underground, each year.
As I arrived to dig for tobacco, China’s pre-occupation with censorship continued to focus on the surreal in the present not just the past. Afraid that the so-called Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia would inspire similar insurgence in Beijing, the Chinese Communist Party had, as I drove across Hunan, declared an unlikely war on the small white flower, even banning its utterance from social media.
China likes to outlaw symbols of resistance. It regularly bans people too. Richard Gere and Brad Pitt, not exactly the most threatening of civil rights campaigners, will be unlikely to ever walk along the Great Wall of China thanks to their personal association with a humble Buddhist monk who has become the world’s most high profile blacklistee: the Dalai Lama.
The latest storm of controversy swirls around the South African government’s refusal to grant the Dalai Lama a visa to attend the World Summit of Nobel Peace Laureates in Cape Town in mid-October.
In 2014, as they have for much of the last 50 years, Beijing views Buddhism’s Yellow Hat as a meddlesome separatist trying to establish an independent Tibet. But he&#8217;s also a very effective tool that China uses to incrementally assert control in international affairs.
As far as Pretoria is concerned, we are in familiar territory. In 2009, Tibet&#8217;s exiled spiritual leader tried unsuccessfully to visit South Africa to attend a peace conference. Before then he had visited the country three times under Presidents Nelson Mandela and Thabo Mbeki.
Two years later, in 2011, the Dalai Lama hoped to attend the 80th birthday celebration of his friend, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, but withdrew his request after not receiving a response from Pretoria. An angry archbishop later described his government&#8217;s handling of the visa application as mind-blowing.
A year later, South Africa&#8217;s Supreme Court of Appeal found that the country&#8217;s home minister at the time unreasonably delayed her decision on the Dalai Lama&#8217;s visa application and acted unlawfully in doing so.
Of course it is beyond dispute that the Rainbow Nation’s most recent point-blank refusal to grant entry to one of the world’s holiest figures has more to do with Beijing than Pretoria.
The furore around the rejection promoted the Dalai Lama’s fellow peace laureates, including Poland&#8217;s Lech Walesa, Bangladeshi entrepreneur Muhammad Yunus, Iranian lawyer Shirin Ebadi, Liberian activist Leymah Gbowee and Northern Irish peacemakers David Trimble and John Hume, to write a letter directly to President Jacob Zuma calling for a reversal of the decision. When the reversal didn’t come, the laureates cancelled their trip to South Africa.
What is most surprising to me is the low-key reaction to the latest rebuke in Asia. It speaks of a wider truth. Since China’s emergence as an economic superpower, the Dalai Lama is increasingly becoming the last person presidents and prime ministers would ever want to ‘Like’ on Facebook. As a consequence South Africa is far from the only nation in the world to ‘unfriend’ the 14th incarnation of the Buddhist holy seat.
Around the world, governments are increasingly limiting their contact with the Dalai Lama’s office. Most recently, Russia refused him entry. Those who refuse to kow-tow often feel the muscle of China. After the British Prime Minister David Cameron met with the Dalai Lama in 2013, after Beijing warned him not to, China effectively cut off diplomatic relations. Cameron’s administration then spent a year working to get back in Beijing’s good books.
A more startling row over the Dalai Lama’s presence took place in the last place you would expect. Norway. A nation that has shaped a reputation for tolerance. When the Dalai Lama visited Norway in May, government officials allowed him to enter the country but refused to meet him face to face. Norway had previously found itself in the cold and its salmon exports to China decimated after it had chosen the Chinese dissident Liu Xiaobo as the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize recipient. History wasn’t about to repeat itself.
In the midst of the latest scandal, South Africa&#8217;s foreign ministry has, of course, stressed its visa decisions were taken independently of a desire to cultivate closer ties with China, its largest trading partner and co-member of the BRICS club of emerging economies.
Regardless, the country’s economic relationship with China deepens. In late 2007, China made the largest single foreign investment in South Africa since the end of apartheid, a deal for the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, the biggest lending bank in Asia, to take a 20% stake in South Africa’s Standard Bank, the country’s largest by assets. Last year, China emerged as South Africa’s foremost trading partner.
The deeper truth to the Dalai Lama’s exile and predicament can be found between the lines of academic study. According to a study by two European scholars, Andreas Fuchs and Nils-Hendrik Klann, inviting the Buddhist leader for dinner could ultimately end up costing you the earth.
In their study ‘Paying a Visit: The Dalai Lama Effect on International Trade’, they found that when a top leader meets with the Dalai Lama, that country&#8217;s exports to China will drop by at least 8.1% for roughly two years, and then return to normal – in the interim costing economies linked to China billions of dollars.
Perhaps it&#8217;s not surprising, then, that in 2001, the Dalai Lama met with 11 top leaders yet in 2013 met with only two. This trend of avoiding the Tibetan spiritual leader has been especially pronounced in northern Europe, not just in Africa.
But a greater reality in the modern world is the Dalai Lama’s political influence, like the strength of his tenure, spent entirely in exile, is fading fast. A man of compromise and dignity, he has long said he’d settle for autonomy within the Chinese state, but this has about as much chance of happening as China recognising Korea&#8217;s right to re-unification. Today, as China’s economy grows, Tibet’s state-supporters will continue to diminish.
Tibet has changed dramatically in recent years. On the political front, tension is still very much present but the wave of self-immolations that once dominated world headlines has diminished. Even the soldiers who were blocking most of the streets of old-Lhasa in 2008 are now gone.
Money seems to be having an impact on Tibet for better or worse. After having invested $15 billion on infrastructure in 20 years, and committing further $15 billion in the years to come, China has equipped Tibet with a reliable road network, five airports and a railway line anchoring it firmly to the nation. Greenhouse agriculture is developing, allowing a constant outflow of highly prized fruit and vegetables throughout the year. This year, 12 million, mostly Chinese, tourists made the trip, turning Lhasa into a tourist hotspot.
This, in itself, sadly lends a rather hollow ring to the words of the Dalai Lama himself: “Money and power facilitate, but it is clear that they are not the primary causes of happiness and solving the world’s problems.”

Why A Hello To The Dalai Lama Costs Billions

The night Private Johan Botha died was actually meant to be his last on active service in Afghanistan’s turbulent Helmand province. His battalion, A (Grenadier) Company, was making its way out of the province on orders to push Taliban insurgent forces towards Pakistan. In the morning, another unit, the Grenadier Guards, would take over, allowing Botha and his company to head north to Camp Bastion, the main British base in Helmand, where they would catch the next flight home.
But a midnight ambush changed all that. It was like World War One; A Company was dug into a trench, and a few meters away, on the other side of no man’s land, was the Taliban.
In the darkness, machine gun fire shattered the silence as Taliban fighters launched their attack firing rocket-propelled grenades. The bursts of sand and smoke blinded and trapped the British. Seven men bore the brunt. Botha was one of them. He was wounded but no one could find him. His last words came across another soldier’s radio. He was shouting through the chaos in his heavy Afrikaans accent: “Boss, please don’t leave me.”
Botha was 25 and left a wife and young daughter.
Botha, of the Mercian Regiment (Worcestershire and Sherwood Foresters), was a South African, one of thousands of Africans fighting for the British. He enlisted in Pretoria, as a Commonwealth soldier, in 2005; his tour of duty in Helmand was his first and he carried it out while a South African citizen.
British soldiers from Africa are not new. Infantrymen like Botha have been fighting under the Union Flag for hundreds of years. The two World Wars saw British dominions, like South Africa and Canada, raising their own armies, under British command, fully integrated into the British fighting forces. In World War One, more than 74,000 South Africans fought for the Queen and someone else&#8217;s country.
They are fewer today; about 660 British soldiers are South African – among the African majority of 6,400 Commonwealth fighters, according to Ministry of Defence (MOD) figures. African soldiers from Swaziland to Kenya have taken the Queen’s shilling with large enlistments from Ghana, Gambia and Zimbabwe.
In July last year, the British government suspended direct recruitment from the Commonwealth as part of a bid to cut the Armed Forces by a fifth. That year, it axed more than 5,000 soldiers from the ranks.
Yet, this year, young African men are still knocking at the gates of the British Defence Attache in Pretoria. They are trying to follow in the footsteps of men like Kieran Burke, a South African who joined the colors in 2005 and served with Botha. He says it was a career move.
“I wanted to eventually, once I got military experience, join the UN.”
Burke insists most Africans join for more than a red passport.
“With young guys coming in from Africa, it was a means to an end.”
The men he served with, from the continent, just wanted to be professional soldiers, he says. The British Army was organized, well-equipped and moneyed.
“The South Africans, Ghanaians and Fijians were the cream of the crop [and] we [lose] these guys to a foreign army. In some ways, it’s misplaced,” he says.
Burke tried to join the South African army. He had a Humanities degree but the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) wouldn’t let him enlist.
“I was informed by my own army [that] I was too old, I was 24,” he says.
So, he enlisted with the Royal Gloucestershire, Berkshire and Wiltshire regiment instead and did six months of basic training. He excelled as a private and was in line to train as an officer at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst. But when he was asked to wait, in his rank, for two and half years he felt it was time to leave. He wanted to go into combat as a lieutenant, not a private.
After three months with a regiment, soldiers have to decide whether to leave or to stay. After this window, a four-year contract is signed and leaving the British Army is not an option.
“It was very difficult to get out,” remembers Burke.
But he talked his way out and is now a journalist in South Africa.
Despite his clean escape, Burke and other South Africans who have served, or are serving, in foreign armies may be skirting mercenary law back home. A piece of legislation known as the Regulation of Foreign Military Assistance Act (FMA), passed in 1998, prohibits any South African citizen from engaging in ‘mercenary activity’ both within and outside the Republic. This means South Africans offering services as direct combatants in an international conflict for pay are committing an offense.
There is a way around this. The law can be subverted by placing a request for exemption with the National Conventional Arms Control Committee (NCACC), based at the Department of Defence. But Burke says this was not considered by him or his countrymen who joined the British Army.
“There was no notion that you had to let the South African government know that you were in the British Army. If there was an issue, I was not aware of it,” he says.
Foreign fighters are a huge threat to South Africa’s international interests and obligations. Part of the reason the 1998 Act was drafted was because South Africa had been implicated in major, often scandalous, diplomatic embarrassments with its citizens aiding the overthrow of governments or selling arms to rebel groups across Africa.
The first FMA conviction was Richard Rouget – popularly known as Colonel Sanders – in 2005. He pled guilty to assisting the government of Ivory Coast suppress dissidents three years earlier. Rouget wasn’t born South African; he was a French military veteran who earned his citizenship through naturalization. He admitted to supplying the Ivorian government with military equipment, training and a contingent of South African pilots. The State proved that Rouget and his men were also active combatants during the Ivory Coast conflict. The men were paid €6,000 ($7,500) monthly. In addition, Rouget was paid €340,000 ($430,000) by the Ivorian authorities for military equipment.
Rouget was found guilty and slapped with a R100,000 ($9,000) fine and a suspended sentence of five years. He made an appeal for leniency and was granted a reprieve of R25,000 ($2,200) on his fine. The same year, Mark Thatcher was sentenced, under the same legislation, for his part in an attempted coup in Equatorial Guinea. He walked away with a R3 million ($270,000) fine and a four-year suspended sentence.
Since the FMA became law in South Africa, only a handful of cases have gone to trial. However, it does raise concerns of the legitimacy of soldiers like Botha and Burke doing battle for another nation and fighting wars as proxies.
In many ways, the story of the African foreign legion, stripped bare, is the story of the African migrant, with stars and stripes on.

Going To War For  Money And A Passport

It could have come straight out of a novel. Twenty men, most of them Congolese asylum seekers, stand accused of plotting to overthrow their head of state, Joseph Kabila, from a base deep in the South African bush.
When news of their arrest broke last year, the headlines flew: “Congolese Crisis Comes Knocking at South Africa’s Door”, “Congo Dissidents Stung By Hawks”. The men appeared at the North Gauteng High Court in Pretoria with a supportive crowd of countrymen behind them. They denied the charges.
The peculiarities of this case may impact the future of mercenary law in South Africa, says Cerita Joubert, lawyer to three of the accused.
“It’s a very good test case&#8230; because the definition of mercenary activities [in the Act] is to actually actively engage in combat&#8230; and in all the previous cases in South Africa regarding Foreign Military Assistance there was actually a guilty plea by the accused.”
But there are other concerns regarding the investigation that led to the men’s arrests.
“The whole setting of a trap [by South African Police] makes a very nice test case for how far you [are] allowed to go before crossing that border. Our argument is [that] a line was crossed,” she says.
Thesigan Pillay, lawyer to 14 of the accused agrees.
“[They] deliberately [lured] these people to commit the offense to use them as an example&#8230; whoever wants even to think about [planning a coup] in South Africa [will] face the full might of the law. Or it could be that there is complicity from the hierarchies of the South African government who are encouraging this [saying] ‘arrest them, detain them because we have interests in the DRC and we do not want South Africa to be used as a platform for dissent against Kabila.’”
However, a source close to the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA), which is currently presenting the case against the men from Congo, claims the prosecution is simply following its mandate.
“Any action for the unconstitutional change of a government would obviously result as Foreign Military Assistance&#8230; we are trying to get rid of this culture of mercenarism in South Africa.”
Joubert and Pillay also insist that, for their clients, money was the main objective.
“The entire thing wasn’t about a coup d’état, it was an opportunity to make money,” claims Pillay.
The story of the Congo 20, as the group is also known, is a convoluted one. To understand why, it helps to return to the very beginning.
Early last year, the men from Congo are accused of convening in Johannesburg to discuss the fronting of an obscure rebel unit to remove the Kabila regime through ‘conventional warfare’. The group’s leaders emerged as James Kazongo, a naturalized American citizen, and a man who claims to be Kabila’s half-brother, Etienne Kabila. General William Amuri Yakutumba, whose whereabouts are currently unknown, was implicated as the group’s military head.
It was claimed, during the trial, that around 7,000 to 9,000 rebel soldiers were loyal to this dissident organization, Union des Nationaliste pour le Renouveau or the Union of Nationalists for Renewal (UNR), based in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Over a five-month period, beginning in September 2012, key members of the group made contact with men they believed to be sponsors interested in mining concessions once the Kabila regime was toppled.
The ‘sponsors’ were actually elite undercover agents in the South African police known as the Hawks. They caught the Congolese in a sting operation.
New information obtained by FORBES AFRICA points to a very different version of events.
In September 2012, accused number four, Kabuka Lugamba Andrian Kilele met Carlos Nkuka, a Congolese man living in Angola, who claimed to work for an Umkhonto we Sizwe veteran, going by the name of Andries Pienaar, later revealed to be part of the sting operation.
Nkuka convinced Kilele to introduce his friend Etienne Taratibu Kabila, alleged son of former Congolese president, Laurent Kabila, who lived in Cape Town, to his boss. Nkuka and Pienaar said they wanted to go into ‘business’ with Kabila.
A few days after making contact, Kabila traveled to Johannesburg to meet with Nkuka and Pienaar at their request. They met first at a fast food restaurant on Louis Botha Avenue, a major thoroughfare that links downtown Johannesburg to Sandton, the city’s business district.
The men then moved the meeting to Kilele’s house on Nugget Street, in downtown Johannesburg, where Pienaar first brought up the mining proposal.
“[He said] I have my people who always wanted to exploit mining business in your country&#8230; among Congolese here, I haven’t found one who has got influence in your country,” a source at the meeting tells FORBES AFRICA.
Nkuka and Pienaar wanted to harness the influence of Kabila’s name to take over key mining operations in the DRC already controlled by major rebel groups and government forces. This was their ‘business’ proposal to Kabila.
Days after Kabila returned to Cape Town, Nkuka and Pienaar met with Kilele in the garden suburb of Norwood at a local restaurant. This time Kilele brought along a friend, Lunula ‘Patrick’ Masikini, accused number two. They were instructed to drive to Pienaar’s house and as they were driving they noticed two cars were trailing them: one blue, one silver. They all pulled up at Pienaar’s front yard.
Masikini and Kilele were led into the dining room where they were questioned about Kabila’s relationship with his alleged half-brother, Joseph. After a long conversation about the Kabila brothers, they were shown photos of gold purchased from a mine in Goma, a city on the northern banks of Lake Kivu, by the driver of the blue car.
The case investigator, Lieutenant Colonel Noel Zeeman, was at this meeting. While undercover, Pienaar told the men from Congo that Zeeman was their ‘boss’ who lived in Europe but came to South Africa often.
A few days later, they reconvened. Pienaar, with Zeeman and Nkuka, informed Kilele and Masikini that Kabila had agreed ‘to do business with them.’
The men returned to Norwood and met with undercover agents James Jansen and Joe Bressler for the first time. Pienaar waited in the car.
For the second time, Kabila traveled to Johannesburg to meet with his ‘business’ partners. But this time he was wary. He sent Kilele to meet with Jansen and Bressler at an address sent to him via SMS. After this meeting, an offer was made.
According to a source, Jansen offered Kabila $30,000 to scout mining locations in the DRC. He also emphasized the need for security at the mines, saying that Kabila needed to be ‘with people carrying guns’. The Hawks asked for images of the mines as well as photos of Kabila’s ‘people’ along with the names of ‘10 to 15 people for training’. The plan was to force President Kabila to ‘a point of negotiation’ for mines under his control.
Kabila was hesitant so the offer was increased to $79,000 in two instalments.
“First they will hand over [to Etienne] $30,000 and $49,000 will be [handed over] once he [brought] people for the training,” claims a source who joined the negotiations.
Kabila did not bite, instead withdrawing completely, suspicious of the Hawks and their interest in his name.
“He said&#8230; ‘I am not going to continue with these people because why James [Jansen] asked about my brother Joseph [Kabila]?’&#8230; I am [certain] these people must be police or Kabila’s agent.’”
Kabila returned to Cape Town and was not seen again until he handed himself over to police in February 2013.
At this point, Kilele decided to continue with the partnership recruiting some friends, also facing charges, to take over from Kabila. He introduced his friends to Jansen and Bressler in Midrand, at a restaurant suspended above the N1 highway, the road that links Johannesburg and Pretoria.
Jansen talked about the money they could all make, if they took ‘two or three provinces in the DRC’ and ran the mines. Later that night, the men received an offer from the agents that they found hard to refuse – $300,000 – more money than any of them had ever imagined.
“Hearing this amount of money&#8230; I said I have to do whatever they want to get the money,” admits a source at that meeting.
Kazongo was central to obtaining the money, claim a number of sources. The alleged leader of the group knew Maskini through his sister in Belgium. At some point, he was preparing an affidavit for Masikini to relocate to the United States, where he has lived for 32 years, but the move never happened.
Kazongo was to play a small role: meet with the agents, posing as ‘President’ of the group,  to collect the money. For his trouble, he was promised $100,000.
The UNR’s alleged military head, General Yakutumba, founder of the Mai Mai Yakutumba rebels in South Kivu, was forced into their plans.
“These guys [wanted] a person who has influence to lead&#8230; [and] some photos of soldiers and also Yakutumba’s image because they checked him on the internet&#8230; that’s where the idea of Yakutumba came from,” reveals a source.
In January 2013, Kilele met with the general at an undisclosed location just outside Uvira, a town that flanks the northern edge of Lake Tanganyika. For the promise of $20,000, Yakutumba and his soldiers posed for photographs and video with Kilele. This would later be used as proof of the group’s military prowess.
During the same trip, Kilele took photos of mines and brought back gold samples. This, he hoped, was evidence enough for ‘the sponsor’. He handed over the evidence, with Masikini, to Jansen after returning South Africa on January 22, 2013.
Many of the Congolese men implicated in the coup charges claim they were recruited by Kilele and another man, accused number 13, David Bakajika, to attend anti-rhino poaching training. They say they knew nothing about the agreements Kilele made with the agents.
“The training was supposed to last for seven weeks. Upon completion of that training we were supposed to receive a certificate and a lump sum of $2,500 for each trainee. Furthermore, I was told by Kilele that there will be opportunity for employment as security in the farms of South Africa, so I wanted to use my vacation time to get the certificate and the money and go back to DRC,” says a source close to Kilele.
On February 4, 2014, a day before their arrest, 19 of the Congolese accused departed for a fast food restaurant to meet with Jansen and Bressler. Masikini drove Kazongo and Kilele to the restaurant. The other men took public transport. When they got there, they felt something was wrong. A source claims that there were four men accompanying the agents and all of them were carrying pistols.
The men from the DRC were then driven further north on the N1. They didn’t know where they were going. They passed Pretoria and drove for hours into the bush.
The journey ended at a farm in the middle of nowhere.
“It was just a camp with some tents,” says a source on the trip.
The men were given military fatigues, boots and coats. On a flipboard was written ‘Coup d’état’ and ‘questions which needed to be answered’ in both English and French.
They were told to familiarize themselves with the place as they were going to spend seven weeks there, but the stay was cut short.
“[They] pointed a gun at [us] and said ‘no one is allowed to move around,’ says another source.
They felt they were in trouble.
“We knew then that we were with the wrong people, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”
While at the farm, they met another face they later would see in court, the trainer, ‘Nick’.
“He introduced himself saying he is not a good man as we might think. He is a killer and he [doesn’t] know how many people he has killed in his life and he [doesn’t] trust anyone; only his cousin, who was holding a camera in front of us,” claims a source.
Nick had helped train security contractors in Afghanistan. He told the men from Congo that he had recently returned.
An ‘agitated’ Jansen then appeared with a wooden box containing ‘huge guns’. He instructed them to put on the fatigues, grab a gun and pose for photographs, which were later used against them in court.
At 4:30AM the next morning, the men were summoned from their tents by men in balaclavas. They were told they were going to meet the ‘sponsor’. Instead they met a familiar face with a police identification card who introduced himself as ‘Lieutenant Colonel Noel Graeme Zeeman’.
The men shuffled into a police van and were returned to Pretoria. In the car, a translator with the police confirmed their fate.
“Vous étés sous L’arréstation!” she said according to a source who was in the police van.
The men appeared at Pretoria Magistrate’s court two days later. After a month long battle, they were denied bail.
The Congo 20 last appeared in court in late October. Their lawyers expect the case to conclude early next year.

Soldiers Of  Misfortune

For South Africa, September 12, 2014 will forever be remembered as a dark day. It was the day a collapsed church hostel in a densely-populated Lagos district brought sorrow, tears and grief to families across the country.
“I didn’t know what to expect, but I’m glad I saw her even though I couldn’t talk to her.”
These are the words of relief from Mantshebo Sefali that told the pain of many waiting to be reunited with family members that were caught in the chaos of a collapsed building in Lagos belonging to the Synagogue Church of All Nations (SCOAN).
Scores of relatives clustered at the Steve Biko Academic Hospital in South Africa’s capital Pretoria to get news about their injured family flown back from Nigeria. Some brought bouquets, others sat in the car park in stunned silence. Many couldn’t believe how a religious pilgrimage could end in tragedy.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-3219" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/0000215470-1024x683-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
Inside the hospital, Lizzie Sefali lay unconscious. Doctors and nurses talked to the Sefali family before they were allowed inside. Mantshebo’s tears poured down as two aunts from her family stood up and embraced her. Mantshebo’s aunt, Thembi Khoza, had gone to the church with Lizzie.
They are just two of hundreds of Nigerians and South Africans who felt the pain following the collapse of the guest house that belonged to the church.
“My mother went with her sister to the church. My aunt usually goes every year, just for a week and this time she went with my mother,” says Sefali, a second year student studying tourism at the University
of Johannesburg.
About 115 people, 84 of them South Africans, reportedly died in the fatal accident, with more than 100, including Nigerians and citizens from other countries, sustaining serious injuries.
The deceased South Africans had gone on a pilgrimage to The Synagogue, as devotees usually refer to their church. Like many others before them from around the world who come to The Synagogue for spiritual rejuvenation, these South Africans hoped to return home hale and hearty. Instead, they will go back home in body bags, leaving officials of both nations in a diplomatic logjam and in search of an explanation for the building’s collapse.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-3220" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_Par7979084-1024x683-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
“Not in the recent history of our country have we had this large number of our people die in one incident outside the country… The whole nation shares the pain of the mothers, fathers, daughters and sons who have lost their loved ones. We are all in grief,” says South Africa’s President Jacob Zuma.
The collapse reignited public debate on the sorry state of standards in the construction and urban planning sectors in Africa’s most populous nation. Rescuers and Nigeria’s National Emergency Management Agency say the hostel had been overburdened by the construction of additional floors. However, leader of SCOAN and popular televangelist, TB Joshua has his own theories of what happened. He claims the militant Islamic sect Boko Haram attacked his building, and later posted footage online of a low-flying aircraft ostensibly hovering above an uncompleted multi-storey building before it collapsed.
He is a charismatic preacher, counting presidents and prime ministers among his flock, giving him considerable political clout. Former Malawian head of state Joyce Banda once described Joshua as her spiritual father. He is believed to boost Nigeria’s tourism sector with disciples flocking to worship at The Synagogue from all over the world. The Synagogue, a massive eye-popping piece of real estate which seats about 15,000, is believed to be worth between $10 million and $15 million.
Joshua, a controversial figure dubbed The Prophet by his followers, claims to have foreseen the Malaysian Airlines MH17 plane crash, the Boston Marathon bombings and the results of Nigerian football matches. As the Lagos State Government issued a statement suggesting that the building was an illegal structure with defective structural works, many Nigerians have wondered why Joshua failed to foresee the collapse of his own building.

Synagogue Of  Sadness  And Silence

For thousands of years, humans have ground plants and animals to cure the sick. It was a time long before bread mould could also cure a headache. But these days, the tinctures and potions of old have taken a back seat to contemporary medicine.
Not so for complementary medicines in South Africa, an industry that is now worth $750 million, according to Peter Kreft, CEO of CoMED Health, who own brands Bioter Health and Natura, some of South Africa’s largest manufacturers of complementary medicine.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3214" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/IMG_8788-1024x683-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
This growth has now been stinted thanks to new regulations released by the South African government’s health regulators, the Medicines Control Council (MCC), since November 2013. The laws could mean as much as 50-60% of the industry having to take their cures off the shelves, says Kreft.
The MCC’s statement reads: “It has come to the attention of the National Department of Health that an increased number of so-called complementary medicines are being sold in the country which may pose significant risks to the South African public. For this reason the Minister of Health has called for the registration of these complementary medicines by amending the Medicines and Related Substances Act, 1965 (Act 101 of 1965) on 15 November 2013 making it a requirement for the MCC to evaluate and pronounce on the safety, quality and efficacy of these medicines.”
The MCC issued a deadline of February 15 for complementary medicines to place disclaimers on their products, as part of the first phase of the MCC’s revision process. This relabeling, according to Kreft, is not only costly to the industry but leaves very little room to market a product’s uses. The disclaimer will have to read that the product in question is yet to be evaluated by the MCC, and is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease.
“I think like most other companies, we’d be in trouble, because it would affect 20 percent to 30 percent of our turnover. And if you take 20 percent to 30 percent of our top line and look at the infrastructure that we need to keep going here – and we do our absolute best to be compliant with regards to regulatory requirements – we will no longer be able to do this and probably be faced with either amalgamating with others that could bring up the additional turnover and hence also a bottom line, or closing our doors which I would be very loath to do,” says Kreft.
For Danny Pillay, President of the Homeopathic Alliance of South Africa and a practising homeopathic doctor in Sandton, Johannesburg, the regulations are a much needed remedy.
“When you have someone committing to a safe manufacture process and then all of a sudden you have someone producing their goods in their backyard and selling it as a supplement, or a product.  That is endangering the public… The reality is there are far too many unregistered persons that are illegally practising and sometimes some quarters of industry provide the products,” says Pillay.
Pillay explains that the medicines claiming to be Schedule 2 or 3 drugs will be most affected. These are high-risk, prescription-only drugs that claim to treat cardiac, diabetic or dietary related conditions. Schedule 0 drugs (low risk, over-the-counter drugs which form the majority of complementary medicines) have less stringent requirements than higher risk drugs.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3213" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/IMG_8718-1024x683-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
“Because products were not registered as medicines previously, there has not been enough drive or need to provide medical proof. We are not talking randomized trials all the time but we need empirical proof showing that there are studies that see the value of these medicines… There is now some burden on the manufacturer when they make a claim on a drug that has a higher risk,” says Pillay.
The cost of regulated medicine may be hard for customers and manufacturers to swallow. What once cost manufacturers $190 to register a product, now costs $470 and as much as $1,300 for some products. This excludes the costs for providing clinical proof of a drug’s efficacy and safety.
In the meantime, customers may have to wait months or even years for their embargoed products, while the MCC re-evaluates and registers the backlog of thousands of drugs.
When FORBES AFRICA inquired into the dangers of professionals acting illegally and the dangers of illegal drugs on the market with the Allied Health Professions Council of South Africa (AHPCSA), the statutory health body established to control all allied health professions, its response was in support of the MCC.
“In the view of the AHPCSA, complementary medicines, while generally safer than conventional medicine, can and do have potential for harm and adverse effects and therefore the AHPCSA has welcomed the regulation. The AHPCSA rejects the concept that a medicine is safe simply because it is ‘natural’. It should be noted that those AHPCSA professions that administer, dispense, or compound and dispense complementary medicines also complete a course in pharmacology so as to be in a position to understand conventional medicines, in particular the question of possible drug-interactions between complementary medicines and conventional medicines, both of which may exert physiological effects.”
There are critics who also believe the regulations infringe on a consumer’s rights and freedom of choice.
“[The MCC is ] free to advise, they are free to encourage, they are free to guide, they are free to say they don’t think homeopathic or complementary or traditional medicines work, but they are not free to interfere with the rights of consumers to decide for themselves. And I think this is where there’s a real breakdown of the paradigm in trust,” says Leon Louw, CEO of the Free Market Foundation.
Meanwhile the future of complementary medicine in South Africa hangs on a knife-edge. For the moment it’s still sick in bed waiting to see if it will rise with a healthy new body or missing some of its limbs.
&nbsp;
By date of print, the MCC were unavailable for comment.

Pills, Placebos and Profits

A long trek through the parched mopane woodlands of Koakoland, in northwest Namibia, takes me to Otjikandero village, where I get a glimpse of Himba lifestyle. What impresses me is the cleanliness of the circular village, surrounded by the veld in an idyllic setting. Most Himba villages offer such visits for a small sum of money, like the Masaai of Tanzania do. This has helped them lead a sustainable lifestyle seen nowhere else.
These pastoral people live in communities of less than a hundred people. Himba women are known for smearing themselves with otjize, a paste of butter, fat and red ochre giving their skin and hair a reddish hue whilst also protecting them from the sun. The skin presumably symbolizes the color of the earth and of blood.
My guide during my 3,000 mile travel through southern Africa is a young lady from Cape Town. The Himba teenagers connect with her at a personal level. They touch her white face and feel her straight hair, while I am equally fascinated by their wonderful headdresses and ochre complexion.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29624 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-004-300x199.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="199" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-004-300x199.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-004-600x398.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-004-768x510.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-004.jpg 1024w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
Whereas the very young girls have braided hair falling in front of their faces, at the onset of puberty, they wear longer plaits loosely around the head. I am also told the hair is used as a veil to hide their shyness during those years. After puberty, the girls partake in a special ceremony, when their hair is washed and they are given the traditional ekori headdress made from tanned goatskin. After marriage, all women wear the erembe headdress, made from the skin of a goat’s head and fastened by leather thongs. They also wear hair extensions adorned with goat skin.
Bath Huts
Every Himba village has a ‘bath hut’ where women take turns to ‘smoke’ themselves with aromatic herbs. I am given the privilege to see one such demonstration. A young girl waves a small coal stove containing the smoke of aromatic herbs under her elaborate headdress for several minutes, then covering herself with a towel, and also smoking her torso and lower body parts. She then rubs herself with the otjize paste and emerges from the bath hut looking transformed.
The Himbas spend considerable time adorning themselves. They wear beaded necklaces that they craft themselves. Their chunky copper and silver anklets prevent them from snake bites as they walk in the bush.
Using the body as a canvas has been a vital part of ancient life the world over. Africa in particular is home to some of the most fascinating body art: skin painting, facial scarring, magnificent hairdos, lip and earlobe extensions, to name a few. The practice of body art was mostly predominant in Africa and meso-American cultures. As ancient practices are vanishing everywhere, the west has rediscovered body decorations by way of tattoos and piercings. A torch has thus been passed from the ancient to the modern era.
Unfortunately, I could not photograph any of the men since they had left the village to graze their herds. The Otjikandero village has adopted a few AIDS orphans from neighboring areas and raised them in the Himba tradition. I saw several of them playing. They all sported single plaited hairdos on shaven heads.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-29625" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-005-199x300.jpg" alt="" width="199" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-005-199x300.jpg 199w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-005-300x452.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-005-600x904.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-005.jpg 680w" sizes="(max-width: 199px) 100vw, 199px" />
Before I bid farewell to these unique people, I visit the common kitchen and donate the 10 kilograms of rice that has traveled with me on a journey through souther

FWA-2014-Oct-Nov-074-075-Namibia-003

The Red Women Of Namibia

The state memorial service held in the driving rain for Nelson Mandela at the FNB Stadium in Johannesburg drew the eyes of the world. There were thousands of South Africans and more than 91 heads of state. It also drew droves of journalists, with superzoom lenses, all vying for the picture of the day.
It was an odd image that attracted headlines; three world leaders messing around on a smartphone. I believe the saying, the camera never lies, is misconstrued and this image shows how pictures are all about perception.
The moment revolved around a selfie taken by United States president Barack Obama with Danish prime minister Helle Thorning-Schmidt and British prime minister David Cameron. On the social media side, people thought Michelle Obama, in the background, looked jealous of the Danish head of state; there was even talk of a split.
AFP’s Roberto Schmidt, the man who took the picture, has a different story to tell.
“I later read on social media that Michelle Obama seemed to be rather peeved on seeing the Danish prime minister take the picture. But photos can lie. In reality, just a few seconds earlier the first lady was herself joking with those around her, Cameron and Schmidt included. Her stern look was captured by chance,” Schmidt writes on his blog.
My view is the context is just as important as the image. People at home read far too much into Michelle’s face. In the picture, she comes across as a distant wife, cold towards the fun. It is an easy assumption to make from the comfort of a couch.
Most of the time, wire photographers write generic captions and send through their photos in bulk to put on mass-media sites. Editors, hundreds of kilometers away, then choose a photo from the event. Sometimes, this leads to people losing the essence and taking the image on face value.
The caption for this image does not explain what Schmidt thinks Michelle is doing, leaving it for the reader to guess. This leaves the picture open to interpretation. For all the reader knows, Michelle could have merely been cold and wet in the rain.
The reality was, as the photographer bears, that Michelle was not distant at all; though the image alluded to this.
This is a classic case of how a photograph can mislead and also shows the importance to gathering the context of the image.   FL

000_DV1590969

That Split Second Selfie

Tim McCollum and the rest of the staff at Madécasse have an unusual way of measuring the success of their company.
“People who work with us in Madagascar weigh more than when we first started. Every time we go back, we notice that they have put on weight.”
In Madagascar, where 90% of the population live on less than $2 a day, only those with a decent income are able to afford to eat properly. The roughly 100 farmers who supply Madécasse with cocoa beans all have a stable contract and the security of knowing what they will earn each month, and so can feed themselves fairly well.
Their raw product is used to make chocolate that Wine Spectator called very high quality, and left the New York Times awestruck. The bars are different to any others not just because of their flavor and quality but because Madécasse oversees the process from start to finish. They are one of the only companies in Africa—where 70% of the world’s cocoa comes from but only 1% of chocolate is made—to do that.
Africa is the place where resources are often obtained but the continent seldom benefits from the finished product. McCollum and Brent Beach wanted to change that because they genuinely cared about Madagascar, having spent 10 years there as Peace Corps volunteers. They also knew that they could create something that would become a market leader.
“It’s really hard not to make good chocolate when you have the best source. The source is the cocoa beans and 80% of the flavor of the chocolate is in the cocoa beans,” says McCollum.
Madagascan cocoa is widely accepted as being a class above the rest simply because of its genetic variety. That fact was the start, realizing Madagascar’s potential was the next step.
Few people really know about Madagascar and McCollum and Beach were no different. When they were assigned there in 1998, they only had an inkling about where it was.
“It was before the internet and when I was told that was where I was being posted I wondered if it was the big island off the coast of Africa but I wasn’t sure,” says McCollum.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-31343 alignleft" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/18-3farmers_gathering-300x201.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="201" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/18-3farmers_gathering-300x201.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/18-3farmers_gathering-600x403.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/18-3farmers_gathering-768x516.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/18-3farmers_gathering.jpg 1024w" sizes="(max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px" />
Minimal information meant that they went to Madagascar without expectation and so, allowed themselves to become absorbed in the experience.
“It was not like we were businessmen or diplomats; we were living in remote villages. People wondered, ‘Who is this white guy? Why doesn’t he wear sunglasses? Why is he buying tomatoes in the market?’ Slowly, we learned the local dialect and we gained acceptance and it was not long before they were calling us their children.”
It was there that the idea to start a complete chocolate making company was born, even though it seemed improbable.
“The beauty of innovation is that there is very fine line between what separates a good idea from an insane one. If we had looked at it on paper, we wouldn’t have done it. We knew it had never been done before and we knew it could be done,” says McCollum.
The actual chocolate making process was something they had to do a fair amount of Google searches on, but the mechanics of the job are not all that complicated. In fact, it is something a lot of us would like to do.
“It’s about developing a good palette. We had a lot of well-wishers and assistance, like the head of research and development of Mars. People who knew a lot more about chocolate than we did lined up behind us. They received our sample batches and gave us a lot of constructive feedback,” says Beach.
The team faced two major challenges in their endeavour, which sometimes continue to test them.
“Infrastructure is a major problem. The roads are bad and there is limited internet and phone access. And then there is a knowledge gap between what the American consumer wants and what the farmers produce. We are getting them to see the importance of consistency and protocol. The quality is there but it’s important to be consistent because that creates that nuanced flavor and that someone 8,000 miles away will pick up,” says Beach.
Education is an important part of the process. Each time McCollum and Beach go back to Madagascar they take an assortment of chocolate with them and have a tasting session with the chocolate makers on site.
“Everyone can taste the difference in our product,” says Beach.
To have such belief in the product signals a marked difference in attitude from when they first addressed a semi-circle of eight to 10 employees with their idea. They all took half a step backwards, presumably in disbelief at what they were being told.
Now, even things which were never done previously have been achieved with success. Making the actual chocolate and the packaging are two such activities.
“We taught villagers how to make chocolate. We also had to look at printing for the Western world because what the local printing press could do was of varying quality,” says McCollum.
Sometimes the uniformity dips but Madécasse has established itself as a company that can deliver an excellent product, all of the time. By doing that, they won over American consumers and credit them with driving their success. They also sell in over 2,000 stores across Europe and the United States and their chocolate is available throughout South Africa and Kenya.
While the product is spreading, the company does not have a big marketing budget and has no advertising at all. Instead, they rely on word of mouth, the quality of their product and the story behind it and through that they have become a known brand.
“People are interested in buying fairtrade products and ours is four times as good because the entire process happens in Madagascar,” McCollum says.
As a result Madécasse’s sales have doubled every year since they have started and the benefit is visible in the place they most wanted it to be.
“There is a noticeable change in the way the people we work with live. There are very few places for people to work in a formal sector in Madagascar and these people have that. They have security.”
They also have healthier bodies, ironically from being involved with chocolate.   FL

Sea-Salt-Nibs

The Sweet life On An African Island

David Gresham was the X-ray mechanic who interviewed John Lennon. He loved music and wrote songs but no one wanted to sing them.
One night, Gresham sat down in a tiny hall in Sandton, in Johannesburg, and found the solution to his problems singing Gaelic folk in front of 400 people. The singer was Sean Rennie, also a professional footballer and triple black belt karate fighter.
Months later, the struggling Gresham persuaded Rennie to record the song I’ll Walk With You. The song went on to reach the top 10 chart in South Africa. That success meant Gresham’s fledgling record company is still running 43 years later. In return, Rennie earned a little spot in South African history.
In September, Gresham honored the man who took a chance with his song.
“You know, that was the first time I was in a studio. I was so intimidated,” says Rennie.
“Really? But you recorded so well. I didn’t notice at all,” says Gresham.
According to Gresham, I’ll Walk With You was recorded in one of the cheapest and dingiest studios in Johannesburg. It cost the duo $1.50 per hour. In 1970, this money was half of Gresham’s monthly mortgage.
Gresham was a radio DJ and a composer. He desperately wanted to be an entrepreneur in music.
“I was always listening to music. When I was supposed to be learning how to fix medical machines, my desk was full of radios I had built instead. People kept shouting at me to turn it off. I couldn’t,” says Gresham.
Gresham got his foot in the door by landing a job as a sound editor. When he was 26, he chanced upon the editors of LM Radio, the famous pop station in Mozambique, at a jazz concert in Swaziland. In his young days he interviewed the likes of Ringo Starr, Tom Jones, Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Kenny Rogers, Engelbert Humperdinck and The Bee Gees.
In 1969, Gresham went to London to hunt down John Lennon. Lennon had been banned from South African radio after he was quoted saying that ‘the Beatles were bigger than Jesus’. Gresham tracked Lennon down at Apple Studios in London.
“Let me tell all Springbok Radio listeners, I am a follower of Christ and that’s it. And I would like to apologize to anybody who was offended,” said Lennon.
Springbok Radio refused to play their songs.
In 1964, Rennie, who was born in Dublin, came to South Africa from Belfast’s Crusaders Football Club to play professional football for Johannesburg’s Southern Suburbs. At the dawn of television in South Africa, Rennie hosted a folk song show. The 72 year old cringes at the memory of being on TV.  While living in South Africa for over 30 years, Rennie sang part-time, became a general manager in the motor industry, and gave up football to compete in dojos.
“In the off-season I joined a karate dojo, and I’m now a level three black belt… I thought to myself ‘I would rather participate on a karate floor’. Been in three tournaments, been disqualified twice,” he says.
Rennie is unwilling to give the reason for being disqualified but he does admit to running on the wrong side of the law as a teenager in Ireland.
“Every now and again you had to run away from the cops with their dogs. I remember playing with a band, The Cyclones, in Belfast. The lead singer, Jim Armstrong, ended up being voted the best guitarist in the American West Coast. We were walking home and it started to snow. We were suddenly confronted with two policemen and their dogs. It was a stand-up [fight]. It wasn’t easy to live under those conditions. But it prepares you heavily,” says Rennie.
Unlike many musicians who get tired of singing their hits, Rennie and Gresham still relish the sounds of I’ll Walk With You.
Rennie quips that the last time he sang the song was two weeks ago while alone in his house, in Kempton Park, Johannesburg, followed by a few of his other hits. He’s not shy to belt out the vocals either; he says he has no problem pulling out his guitar to satisfy a spontaneous request, be it in a bar, the changeroom or a party.
As entrepreneurs who have been in the business for more than 45 years, it’s unusual for them to be so cheerful, especially after they took a chance in the often messy world of music. It’s even more unusual that they are still friends after all these years.   FL

Category: Sometime in Africa

FORBES AFRICA SOCIAL MEDIA

More from Sometime in Africa

Gandhi

‘I Arrived With Swimming Costumes To Cover A War’

Bites Of Rural Africa

The Wedding Cake As Chandelier?

‘So, What Does A King Actually Do?’

HIGHER EDUCATION IN AFRICA AND THE RESOURCE GAP

Why A Hello To The Dalai Lama Costs Billions

Going To War For Money And A Passport

Soldiers Of Misfortune

Synagogue Of Sadness And Silence

Pills, Placebos and Profits

The Red Women Of Namibia

That Split Second Selfie

The Sweet life On An African Island

You Sing It, I’ll Sell It. we hope!