“War isn’t pretty. Neither is sexism or racism. Mutu’s genius has been to make them too gorgeous to turn away from,” says Lori Waxman, a special contributor of the Chicago Tribune, referring to Kenyan-born artist Wangechi Mutu’s art.
Mutu, who lives and works in Brooklyn, New York, and is known for her thought-provoking signature collages and artwork, was in Johannesburg in November last year when she exhibited some of her collection at the Goodman Gallery as part of its Africans in America exhibition.
Mutu has a packed schedule and FORBES WOMAN AFRICA is fortunate to get a few minutes of her time at the gallery where we get to see both the artist and her work in a single setting.
In reference to her collage painting, I’m too misty, she starts to explain how the process of mixing the supplies was so fulfilling.
“I used ink, water and paint to create this work, and it is really satisfying for me because things are happening in the making of things – in the ink and color you won’t see in a bottle,” she says.
She is vocal on issues of identity and says when she moved to America from Kenya to study art, thoughts of her being an immigrant occupied most of her thinking.
Mutu brought one of her thought-provoking films called Eat Cake to the month-long exhibition.
The short film is black and white and has a lanky woman with long nails sitting on the ground and eating a big, chocolate cake. Mutu describes the woman in the video as a primal creature.
She says during her pregnancy she was fascinated with urges of eating earth and rock, as compensation for the need for iron.
Other artists who were a part of the exhibition were Ghada Amer, Paulo Nazareth, Alfredo Jaar and Theaster Gates. The exhibition formed part of the In Context series launched by the gallery’s director, Liza Essers, in 2010.
Essers, along with artist Hank Willis Thomas, conceptualized Africans in America, which displayed the “flows, exchanges and continuities between the continent of Africa and the United States”.
“Things are not as simple or as precise or surface as they may come across from the outside. I try to express that to other people – that it is my story,” says Mutu.
The expressive African artist agrees one’s biography in itself is inspirational.
“I think the simple stories about who we are and where we come from, is very inspirational. There is no woman who can look up and say there is no female artist from Africa… we are all here now,” says Mutu, who clearly lets her art speak volumes about her story.

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Her Story In  Ink And Paint

Ask Beverley Joffe what the secret to belly-dance is and her answer might surprise you.
“It’s just decorated walking,” she says, perhaps because the art of moving has always come so naturally to her.
“Since I was little, I was aware that dance was a meeting point between musical expression and the exploration of movement. It has always been a personal discipline as well as a path of surrender. Dance is more than just my love and passion. For me is it an inseparable part of life and an expression of it,” Joffe tells FORBES WOMAN AFRICA.
Joffe began ballet when she was three and made her first stage appearance a year later. She soon progressed to modern dance and jazz and as a young adult trained in London’s West End before heading east to study yoga and Oriental dance. At the time, she was preparing for a career on the stage. Now, as the owner of Babylon Theatre Cafe in Claremont, Cape Town, she owns the stage.
The restaurant is a Mediterranean-fusion, vegetarian, non-alcoholic, Arabic shisha (hubbly-bubbly) establishment and is an embodiment of all Joffe has become. She has not eaten meat for 25 years and not consumed alcohol for a decade-and-a-half as she sought to nourish her body, and the results are self-evident.
Joffe mastered several dance forms including the Indian classical dance Bharatanatyam, worked as a soloist in the United Kingdom and performed with the international Planet Egypt events before returning home to Cape Town to care for her aging mother.
Since being back in South Africa, she has established her own studio, Al-Masrah Academy in Sea Point, and has now branched out into the hospitality industry, where she intends to share all she has learned.
“There is one thing I know without question: when you stand by your truth you will succeed. As an artist I know I can only create from what I know, and what I draw towards me. To many on the outside, it looked like a crazy gamble, but to me the only thing that made sense was to open a vegetarian, non-alcoholic theater restaurant,” says Joffe.
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“Food is the key to healthy body maintenance and physical cell regeneration. We should be eating nutrients and energy. I can’t serve what I would not eat myself.”
Her philosophy starts with her staff, an all-female crew who she has handpicked and trained. Joffe hopes to empower them to become entrepreneurs of their own one day.
“Far from running my staff as a business machine, I train them as I would an athletic team. Feeding them on a vegetarian diet is a power unto itself and I pay very close attention to their health and performance. I see my success for the restaurant alongside their success in skill development and reaching greater standards in life,” she says.
However, the main attraction at Babylon Theatre Cafe is neither the organic, locally-sourced foods and freshly-squeezed juices nor the card games, but the shows on Saturday nights. From 8PM to 11.30PM every week, the restaurant turns into a theater with performers ranging from professionals in the industry to students from Joffe’s studio, who have acquired the expertise to put on their own show.
Joffe continues to teach classes, with the intention of helping women find their inner voice. Her students start as young as nine and she has no age limit on who she opens her doors to. Anyone, at any stage of life, with any or even no level of dance experience is welcomed at Al-Masrah. Classes cost R80 ($6) a session.
“I have never run my studio as a commercial profiteering venture. I offer small group classes and lots of personal growth space for everyone. This created a haven for so many women who needed to unshackle and blossom, learning yoga, bellydance and gaining back their natural confidence and joy,” she explains.
When she is not teaching or working in the restaurant, Joffe has one more project occupying her time. In October 2016, she started the Theatrical Oriental Dance Festival, a three-day event of intense dance workshops and performances across a range of genres. Joffe invited international guests from as far afield as France to teach master-classes and take part in a gala evening. Her intention is to run the festival annually for dancers to “come together and share their work”.
According to Joffe, the magic of art is as much in the creating as it in the sharing, which is why she keeps giving so much.
“Art can only grow and evolve with display, interaction and training, so platforms like this are essential for healthy artistry and inspiration. It’s a mammoth task, but worth every drop of sweat,” she says.

All The Right Moves

You wake up each morning but before getting out of bed you’re already caught up with Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat. By the time you’ve reached the office, you know exactly what’s trending, which celeb made a faux pas, and what your virtual friends are wearing to work. Sound familiar?
According to the SA Social Media Landscape 2017 report issued by World Wide Worx and Ornico, there are 14 million South Africans on Facebook, 7.7 million on Twitter, 5.5 million on LinkedIn and 3.5 million on Instagram. It’s unclear how many are on Snapchat as users themselves don’t know what their follower count is; however, the last global estimate stood at 2% being South African.
Being on multiple social media platforms is the norm, but how has it changed our behavior? Gregory Eccles, a counselling psychologist practicing in Greenstone Hills, Johannesburg, says social media allows us to share far more of our lives with a large audience than we typically would have, creating opportunities for both greater inclusion of others in our lives, as well as for overshare or compromised privacy.
“Like any other communication tool, it gives us the power to affect change in our lives in good and bad ways, but it is our choice of how we use it that ultimately decides its impact,” says Eccles.
“It also allows us to indulge our inherent narcissism more fully than we otherwise may have been able, but those are desires that were there prior to social media.”
Saaleha Bamjee, a 33-year-old writer and photographer based in Johannesburg, who has since deleted her Snapchat account, says she used to catch up on the network in the mornings and evenings, and when not busy, in the afternoons.
“I joined out of a sense of FOMO [fear of missing out], and at first, followed the popular accounts,” she says. “It soon got tiresome, none of what people were sharing was of any value to me personally.”
There have been reports over the years of people going into debt to maintain an online presence and image, while a fair amount of ‘influencers’ overseas have quit Instagram altogether because they couldn’t keep up with the pressure of leading “fake” lives. Eccles says there is certainly pressure to maintain a certain type of social image, and the same applies to our social media presence.
“While some people may experience that pressure as quite overwhelming, it is ultimately still an action of choice for the most part as to how we present ourselves through social media.”
Bamjee says she made purchases on cosmetics and haircare appliances based on the recommendation of a local beauty blogger, while other purchases were tied to being a photographer.
“On Instagram, if I want to be hired or promote my services effectively, I have to upload quality images; this often involves shopping for food ingredients and props.”
Eccles thinks that social media doesn’t actively force us to make purchases. He says that the one aspect of social media when compared to other communication methods is that it allows us greater control over what we present, but we do not always take that into account when viewing posts from other people – an oversight which potentially mars our perspective of our status relative to others.
Over the last couple of years, we’ve seen an increase in new hardware such as better technology in smartphones like higher megapixels on the front-facing cameras, and 360-degree cameras, which Facebook has been supporting for quite some time now. These technologies enable us to share more than ever because it’s no longer just a photo; it’s now full-on livestreams through Facebook, Instagram or Snapchat, and 360-degree photos and videos of every aspect of our lives.
While the availability of these sorts of tools can make it easier to indulge in our vices, Eccles maintains it is not the tools that are to blame.
“We need to look at our own motivations for why we use all of these tools the way we do, and think carefully about what other options we may have to achieve similar results (sense of social connection) and what the consequences of each method are.”
Eccles believes the problem is deeper than what it appears, and thinks that while consumer culture has an influence on our need to be connected all the time, the bigger influence are our own feelings of social connectedness or isolation.
“The truth is we all have a strong desire to connect socially with others, and social media is often the easiest way to do so. Unfortunately, our interactions through social media are quite superficial, forcing those who choose to fulfil their need for social interaction through social media to require more of it.”
Bamjee subsequently stopped following Snapchat accounts that had a “sameness” about it – a preoccupation with affluence and image.
“I soon realized that I didn’t want to see even more than what was already being shared on Facebook or Instagram. I missed having a conversation where I could ask ‘hey, what’s new’ and actually hear something I hadn’t known about previously.”
Perhaps it is time to re-evaluate our reasons for being on social media and the behavior it dictates. “We have a common urge to place blame outside ourselves – Facebook does this to us or smartphones do this to us, but while they often make it easier to behave in ways that may not be particularly healthy, such as ignoring the outside world in favour of spending all your time on your phone, we cannot ignore our own agency in all of this,” concludes Eccles.
While her time is still being monopolised by other social media platforms, Bamjee says she is happier in the sense that she no longer feels she has to know what’s going on with everyone all the time.

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The Social Media Disconnect

It’s obvious Nachilala Nkombo has an abiding passion for Africa. Born and raised in Livingstone, Zambia, Nkombo’s interest in development work was influenced by the 1980s when there was a lot of rhetoric in the media about the importance of a free Africa.
“South Africa was the last on the fight for freedom back then, so from time to time, our town would get bombed and the reason why South Africa was bombing us was because we were supporting the freedom fighters. So it got me to develop a sort of consciousness early on in terms of commitment to social justice and understanding our history and how as African people we had equal rights and capabilities contrary to what the system at the time was telling us,” says Nkombo.
Her fight for social justice has seen Nkombo travel all over the world with a commitment to improve the lives of the underprivileged and the poor.
“I took the belief that we as Africans can change the world. When I was growing up, my role models at the time were politicians because they were doing great things and they were leading on big projects that were changing the communities.”
After university, Nkombo’s first role was an internship position in the United States with the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom.
“It was like an organization focusing on human rights and it looked at areas where human rights were violated a lot, like the Middle East. Internally, we were challenging corporate personhood laws. In America, corporates had the same rights as individuals. And we were challenging this because there was no way a human being that was finite can compete with a corporate whose resources are never-ending.”
Then came her role with an American non-governmental organization back in Africa.
The role was to be part of the team going to set up the program in Africa and she was responsible for the pan-African women and youth program, which also had an element connecting with the United Nations.
“We developed curricula for young people in Africa that were leaders and we trained about 300 young activists from different parts of Africa who were already making a difference,” she says.
Nkombo’s continued passion for development work has led her to Denmark and Germany and today as the Executive Director of ONE Africa, her fight to combat social injustice wages on.
“As the ONE campaign, we have a plan that outlines the policy priorities that we are going to focus on in the next four years to deliver our mission that is to contribute to the end of extreme poverty and disease. My responsibility is two-fold, to lead the team in Africa to come up with strategies to deliver campaigns and advocacy that actually work in Africa but also my responsibility feeds into the global strategy so that what we are thinking about globally actually works and is relevant in Africa,” says Nkombo.
The organization has expanded their work in recent months and has teamed up with the Dangote Foundation (spearheaded by Africa’s richest man, Aliko Dangote) to spread their work on advocacy in Nigeria. Nkombo believes making a stance to end social injustice is a mandate for all Africans and it is only by pulling together as one, that we can truly impact the future generation.

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The Chosen One

When Hannah Bellemare was growing up in freezing-cold Skellefteå, a small picturesque town in Sweden known for its ice hockey, she was a lonely girl who chased insects in the garden and ate the wild berries she found. She would also spend hours learning to cook in her mother’s kitchen, rustling up gourmet dishes for her family from the age of 11.
These days, she’s one of the few gastro-sommeliers in the world, based in Philadelphia, in the United States (US), a far cry from her icy hometown. She works in fine dining restaurants around the world pairing wine and food.
“Growing up, I always wanted to taste everything, everything from insects, wild berries in the forest, wine or whatever I could get my hands on. I was curious to know what it would taste like… I bullied my mom out of our kitchen. I took over cooking for the family and wouldn’t let my mom in the kitchen anymore,” says Bellemare in a telephone interview from the US with FORBES WOMAN AFRICA.
“I have always wanted to inspire passion for food, to share my knowledge of food and wine pairing, and to inspire others. I want the world to understand the science behind food and wine pairing.”
Bellemare says she never planned on making a living out of cooking. But the passion developed gradually and as she grew older, she realized her never-ending affair with food and wine.
Graduating with a degree in gastronomy at Umeå University, in Sweden, she turned entrepreneur, launching her own company, Dalalva Wine Tastings, where she taught people all about food and wine pairing. Meanwhile, she studied for a sommelier diploma from The Swedish Restaurant Academy of Stockholm.
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In 2013, Bellemare relocated to Philadelphia to stay with her husband, Pierre-Edouard Bellemare, a French professional ice hockey player. She taught for a short while at Drexel University, in the US. She also changed the company’s name to Dalalva Wine Education &amp; Consultation, extending its services to corporate consultations. She also has a website where she posts her cooking videos and recipes.
“There are few people in the world with this specific title [gastro-sommelier]and expertise since most countries don’t even offer gastronomy as a university degree. I would guess there are between 10 to 20 people in the world with this title, but I don’t really know,” she says.
“I create recipes around the wine that I want to use rather than creating a dish and then trying to pair a wine to it. You can change the recipe but you can’t change the wine unless you are a winemaker. My whole life I have been very determined never to let other people’s ideas influence me, I trust my own ideas.”
Bellemare is also writing a cookbook, to cater for those who prefer dining at home and spending quality time with loved ones.
“The recipes in the book are what I call fine dining at home, it’s for people who want to learn about fun cooking techniques, beautiful plating. Some people don’t want to go out and pay dining prices for something they could do at home.”
Bellemare’s work has taken her around the world, learning different cuisines whilst also imparting her knowledge to others.
And she loves coming to South Africa for its bountiful food and wine landscapes.
“South Africa is one of my favorite places in the world, I make any excuse to be there. I find the South African Chardonnays inspiring because they are such quality wines,” she says.
Her recent month-long trip to South Africa was spent on the farms of Stellenbosch and Franschhoek; the farming towns with the oldest vineyards and Cape Dutch architecture in the Western Cape province.
From her mother’s humble kitchen in a pretty Scandinavian town, Bellemare is sharing her rare culinary expertise with the world.

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Something To Wine About

They began selling skirts out of the boot of their VW Beetle car in 2000 to friends and family. Sixteen years later, their clothes have been worn at the best fashion shows in Atlanta, Washington, Nigeria, London and India.
It didn’t come easy.
On a balmy Saturday morning, we arrive at the Sun Goddess boutique in Sandton City, a plush mall in Johannesburg, South Africa. What hits you in the face is a bunch of Afro-centric ethnic wear on the racks, a pride and fortune of husband and wife team, Thando and Vanya Mangaliso.
Behind the counter is Vanya; fashion design is her forte. This poised award-winning designer has a petite physique and a headwrap; she has a soft handshake and a striking smile.
Her husband and business partner, Thando, concentrates on retail.
Vanya, 43, was the only child at home, always surrounded by cousins, in the Eastern Cape province of South Africa. She had a passion for reading.
“I grew up in a family of dreamers; grateful for the love of books instilled in me and I guess that continues to fuel my dreams.
“The endless beauty in life, love, family, books, history, the future and our rich heritage. I’m also inspired by the idea of believing there is more and I tend to enjoy the sacrament of work; the desire to rise above mediocrity,” says Vanya.
She worked in the corporate world, in Logistics for Transnet, traveling to different countries: Zambia, Congo and Nigeria, where she noticed that fashion dictated their culture.
“When I’d get off the aeroplane in Nigeria, I’d know I’m in Nigeria, because of their traditional wear. But in South Africa, it was not always the case because fashion didn’t exist as we know it today. It wasn’t always like this. It took a collective effort of community that was transitioning,” says Vanya.
It was those trips that encouraged her to start her own business in fashion.
Vanya’s biggest inspiration is her mother, who always wore Umbaco, a traditional outfit.
She always wondered why people didn’t wear [traditional regalia] regularly. It’s no surprise that she created a business out of this.
“We had to define what the South African aesthetic is. It is not merely taking a normal western t-shirt and put buttons, I mean at the end of the day you have to define the DNA of the South African look.”
Even a good novelist couldn’t have written her story.
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The Mangalisos had five stores in Durban, Cape Town and Johannesburg. Managing all shops wasn’t easy. In 2009, they closed three.
“We didn’t have a system that allowed us to manage a shop that was in Durban when we were in Johannesburg so we had to restructure our business. And we opted for the quality of the profit margin as opposed to the quantity,” says Vanya.
They had 150 employees in retail and production but today they have only 20 employees.
The Mangalisos also faced a major setback in their career when their stock of fragrances worth
R2 million ($150,000) got wiped out in one day as a result of a flood at their Rosebank store – a terrible moment.
“I tend not to take things personally at all. It was also a very special and interesting time, making great use of the antagonistic nature of things to rise to greater heights as people,” she says.
In addition to the bad luck she suffered because of nature, there was also an armed robbery at her home in Atholl in Johannesburg, in the middle of the night.
“As it happens you ask yourself how this story is going to end! So helpless, so vulnerable, terrified and sure they clean you out. You can only try to keep calm and be grateful for your lives,” says Vanya.
“I live in the now, fully aware [of living] every moment to the fullest; I tend not to dwell on the dead past or fear the future. I’m also a great believer in letting go of pain once it has served you and so I’m an eternal optimist always looking ahead,” she says.
Even though the Mangalisos struggled with their business, they still believe a loan should be earned.
“When we started the business, we never got a business loan. Having things easy deprives you of being enterprising because as they say necessity is the mother of invention and I think my life is a testament to that,” says Vanya.
Even at their worst time in business, they were creating products to make money. They launched a range of African head gear.
“We’ve become very cut-throat, the business must make money; if it doesn’t make money, we close it. It’s not about your pride; even a fashion line, if it doesn’t make money, we close it. We’ve driven costs down and continued to make sort of the same money,” says Thando.
“With us, it’s all or nothing. If I don’t sell a skirt I don’t eat,” says Vanya.

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‘If I don’t Sell A Skirt I Don’t Eat

The cool highveld breeze snaps the corner of her neon-yellow safety waistcoat as she steps out of the office building into the yard, the white hard hat sitting comfortably on her head.
Fortunate Mdanda takes confident strides in the male-dominated world of metal and machines. There are other women visible through the workshop doors, setting off sparks as they wield welders and grinders.
Under Mdanda’s watchful eye as CEO of Smith Capital Equipment, there is an internship program for women, and the company actively recruits female engineers.
Her background is not in engineering, but her corporate experience in business strategy, process and finance has amply equipped her for the position. If you have a mind for business, there is no need to feel restricted to more traditionally female pursuits.
“I’ve never looked at industries based on gender. I’ve looked at what one can contribute. So it’s a consolidated effort of all the right skills within the business that makes it successful,” she says.
When she with her husband Sipho took ownership of Smith Capital Equipment on November 2, 2015, the management and workforce were in for a major culture change.
After over two decades of democratic governance in South Africa, the company was still caught up in an apartheid time warp, with separate amenities for the races.
With racial and gender barriers swept aside, there was yet another sweeping change. The company’s 84 employees became shareholders.
“We created a shareholding for both management and staff, across race, across gender, so it’s inclusive, it’s a very exciting space for all of us at Smith Capital,” says Mdanda.
But change always comes with some growing pains.
“I must admit at the beginning it is a new concept when people are told they are shareholders. It comes with excitement, but they’re sort of sceptical. What does that bring? Is there money into our pocket immediately? So it took us a while to communicate the upside of being a shareholder and the responsibilities that come with being a shareholder,” she says.
“But now we’re at a space where we all really understand and are excited about being shareholders. People don’t just come in, do their work and walk out. There is transparency, there is excitement in terms of where the business is going, everyone shares in everything, the strategies of the business, the prospects, and we all share in the excitement and the challenges that we face as a business.”
The core business of this 43-year-old company is the manufacturing of on-road aerial platforms and drilling rigs used for water well and hard rock surface drilling in the mining industry and pole planting for new infrastructure. Equipment is locally designed and manufactured, with drilling rigs and aerial platforms boasting over 90% local content.
Then there is the import side of the business, with truck-mounted cranes brought in from Italy, as well as the ongoing service aspect of the business.
Through a recently-introduced rental division, the company encourages local contractors, who experience financial barriers to entry and cannot afford upfront procurement of the necessary capital equipment they need to deliver on contracts they obtain.
Repairs and maintenance as well as regular load-testing are other important facets of the business.
More black industrialists are emerging with encouragement from the government. The biggest barrier to entry has been funding.
“Now with the DFI [development finance institutions] being open to assisting entrepreneurs growing into being industrialists, I see endless opportunities being presented,” she says.
What is important here is that it goes beyond more than purely facilitating funding, but in providing support in skills-training, and opening business opportunities and new markets.
“Sometimes you find you have the best product but you can’t put it out there, you can’t export it because you find every process when it comes to structured processes that you need to go through are actually barriers to making one successful.”
The Gauteng Provincial Government and the City of Ekurhuleni, where Smith Capital Equipment is headquartered in South Africa, have made efforts to make it easier to do business.
Although the company had been exporting for years, it hadn’t been a major strategy.
“Now we’re turning that around, we’re sending units into Africa, which is very impressive. We’re getting enquiries, a lot as well, because our products are African products, not South African products. They are designed for the African terrain. It is different to sending a product anywhere in the world. So we understand what Africa is about, we understand the terrain and we understand our neighboring countries as well, so doing business with them is quite interesting and exciting and there is actually an increase in opportunities that are being presented.”
Smith Capital Equipment falls under the umbrella of Isipho Capital Holdings, which is wholly owned by the husband-wife duo. Their first acquisition was Kholeka Engineering, a manufacturer of truck bodies and trailers, based in the KwaZulu-Natal province of South Africa.
“We funded it from our own savings. All we wanted to do was to have the skin in the game and to ensure that we can prove to ourselves that we can work hard and turn the business around. That happened and then came the Smith Capital deal. A few other deals are in the pipeline, so it’s quite exciting,” says Mdanda.
Because Smith Capital Equipment required considerable investment, the Mdandas secured a loan of R41 million (around $3 million) through the National Empowerment Fund (NEF). The company has since been identified as one of the 100 Black Industrialists by the Department of Trade and Industry, has established strong BEE credentials and is ISO 9001 registered.
Looking at the day-to-day operations of Smith Capital and the commitment and enthusiasm of their 84 shareholders, the dreams and plans for an expanding Isipho Capital Holdings seem bright and achievable. The future will tell if this is the birth of a new African business dynasty.
While there is much to do in running the business and creating and building an inclusive culture, there is much industry networking to be done as well.
“Sadly, engineer-run businesses are inward looking, that’s how Smith Capital was. But, with our experiences from corporate, you learn that business doesn’t come to you, you go look for business. You go make your presence felt.”
While she has achieved much in the business arena, she defines as her biggest achievement her and Sipho’s two teenage children – 18-year-old son Luyanda and 15-year-old daughter Noluthando.
No doubt Mdanda is a great role model to Noluthando, as she actively supports the development of women in her industry. Her advice for young women wanting to break into any previously male-dominated industry is to be positive and prepared to learn.
“Open yourself to learning and embrace the opportunities. With anything you do there will be challenges, but if you’re open-minded and positive about it and put in the hours in terms of the hard work, it works out well,” says the CEO who has proven this mantra for success, time and again.

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Lifting  Hurdles Even A Crane Can’t

Kangaroo Mother Care (KMC), a low-tech option for stabilized premature babies where the tiny baby is swaddled skin-to-skin between its mother’s breasts instead of languishing in an incubator, can save many of these babies’ lives and improve their outcomes.
Premature birth is the leading cause of death of babies around the world. Of the 15 million babies born prematurely each year, around one million of them die, according to the World Health Organization (WHO). Of those that survive, many experience cognitive deficits and other problems such as lack of fine motor coordination, attention deficit disorder, poor hearing and vision – problems that often go unnoticed and/or untreated in developing countries.
Yet, despite many studies that point to the benefits of KMC, where the premature baby is swaddled to the mother, father or helper, often in a special stretch cotton or lycra carrier, fed only breast milk where possible, and sent home earlier but with strict year-long follow up, the method has yet to replace more expensive, high-tech options as a mainstream method of care, even – or especially –  in places where incubators, baby warmers and other necessary equipment are often in short supply.
The question is why?
Experts point to several reasons why they believe the practice has been slow to catch on, even in poor countries where it could be so beneficial. A quest for hi-tech options, cultural resistance, a lack of scientific understanding and a failure of the imagination, are some of them.
But proponents of KMC are hopeful that recent findings, as well as new evidence on the developing brain, may trigger a sea change.
A recently-released study done in Colombia, where KMC originated 30 years ago due to a shortage of incubators, tracked down individuals 20 years after they were given KMC as premature babies.
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According to pediatrician and lead researcher, Dr Nathalie Charpak, director of the Kangaroo Foundation in Bogotá, the findings, published in December 2016 in the journal Pediatrics, show that “Kangaroo Mother Care has significant, long-lasting social and behavioral protective effects 20 years after the intervention”.
The study found that the young adults given KMC were less likely to be aggressive, hyperactive or impulsive, and that they had bigger brains, than those in a comparison group that received traditional incubator care.
When the study was started in 1993, the death rate was twice as great in the comparison group. The study also showed that 20 years later, the KMC-raised babies had more supportive families, had performed better at work and school and were better adjusted socially. Although their IQs were only slightly higher than the comparison group, they had more brain matter in areas important for learning and storing information.
But doctors in hospitals in developing countries sometimes shun KMC as a “third rate” solution compared to the state-of-the-art incubators that wealthier hospitals can offer, says Charpak.
But in Africa, where 60% of women still give birth at home or an informal setting, despite the push to get them to deliver in healthcare facilities, and where incubators in hospitals are often broken and in short supply, premature babies run the risk of infection and death due to these equipment problems according to Dr Nancy Sloan, an epidemiologist who has researched KMC globally. What’s more, delays in getting newborns into hospital increases the risk, as most newborn deaths occur on the first day of life.
Given that KMC does not require expensive drugs or machines, it is no surprise that pharmaceutical or other corporate giants are not queuing up to fund studies. But global development goals in recent decades have galvanized energy around preventing baby deaths and the WHO has promoted and published guidelines on KMC since 2003 as part of a strategy to accomplish this. Many studies, backed by the Bill &amp; Melinda Gates Foundation, the WHO and others, point to the clear benefits of KMC in survival rates and outcomes for premature and low-birth-weight babies.
Charpak is hopeful that the results of her study will help spread the message about the overwhelmingly positive benefits of KMC. Scandinavian countries have been pioneering the practice for years; there are big KMC movements in many other developed countries, including the US and Canada; and the method is being piloted in many developing countries around the world, including in some African countries. In South Africa, there are several successful KMC programs in operation.
But, despite what the studies find, including one in Cameroon shown to almost halve death rates of premature babies, resistance persists. Charpak notes that this is particularly evident in some northern countries on the continent.
“We have failed in countries like Algeria, Morocco and Egypt and I don’t know exactly why.”
She suspects, however, that fathers in these countries may balk at the bigger role that KMC requires of them in nurturing the newborn.
KMC takes human resource dedication to teach mothers and their families exactly how to practice it and to follow up the babies at home for months afterwards. It is not just about putting the baby on the mother and ‘saying bye bye’,” as Charpak puts it. Yet it is less expensive than high-tech interventions. She laments that the intensive, hands-on time required is off-putting to many mothers in countries like the US, for example, where pressure to get back to work as soon as possible is great.
While Charpak believes that KMC should only be started after a premature baby has first been stabilized in an incubator, another group of scientists is keen to show that immediate KMC, directly after birth, could save more babies and improve their outcomes too.
Dr Nils Bergman, a perinatal neuroscientist who has been championing KMC for decades, is heading up a large study in Nigeria, Ghana, Malawi, Tanzania and India, which is set to begin in a few months. Also funded by the Bill &amp; Melinda Gates Foundation, the study on 5,000 premature babies hopes to show that “immediate KMC” directly after birth, even on unstable babies, can improve survival rates.
In Bergman’s view, the reason that KMC hasn’t been taken up more widely, despite clear evidence that shows its benefits, is because there has not been enough scientific knowledge to explain why it works.
His research on 128 Zimbabwean infants 20 years ago using immediate KMC showed not only a dramatic improvement in their survival rate (50% up from 10%), he says, but that the babies behaved differently.
“They suckled well, their skin had a different texture and they grew twice as fast. They opened their eyes and looked at you in a focused way. They were real human beings, not protoplasm lying in a box.”
Now, Bergman says, new studies in neuroscience and epigenetics actually show the toxic effects of stress on the developing brain.
“For all mammals, separation from the mother is the greatest stressor known,” he says. Immediate skin-to-skin contact between mother and baby, whether premature or not, is crucial for the baby’s brain development and bonding, he believes, and in his view, “the incubator is the primary cause of toxic stress”.
“Kangaroo Mother Care is not a Third World fix for infant mortality,” he says. “This is something that all babies around the world could benefit from.”
Bergman would like to show not only that immediate KMC increases the chances of survival but that it improves the quality of that survival. He hopes that more funding will become available for follow-up research on the infants on the study.
Sloan also backs the idea of KMC for all babies, particularly on a continent where most women still give birth at home. In the home or community setting, information crucial to determining whether a baby is premature or not – exactly how old the baby is and how much it weighs – is often not known, even when a baby is admitted to a hospital.
Also, women are sometimes stigmatized for giving birth to premature babies, and KMC for them only could stigmatize them further, she says.
Research shows clear benefits for both stabilized premature babies and for healthy babies, Sloan says, and there is no evidence that it causes harm.
“We need to start promoting universal KMC for every baby,” she says.

Kangaroo Mother Care Centre in Bloemfontein Hospital

‘Real Human Beings,  Not Protoplasm  Lying In A Box’

IIt’s a sunny Thursday, and I am at the Mobile Military Health Formation of the SA Military Health Service in Pretoria, South Africa’s capital city, to meet Limpopo-born Molatelo Nkoana, a 31-year-old woman who has dodged more bullets than most.
Nkoana’s running a little late, but then she arrives, sallying into the boardroom. She is on duty and in uniform, and proceeds to tell me about her life and the career she almost embarked on.
After completing her secondary education, Nkoana says she first went on to study and train as a nurse. But that wasn’t to last long; she gave it up midway – to join the military, a decision she would never regret.
“Basically, it was about the money, I was young and wasn’t getting enough money, so I went on the market,” says Nkoana.
The enthusiastic 22-year-old applied, and was recruited three months later, reporting to the Thaba Tshwane military base in Pretoria for basic training. She also trained in Kimberly, Bloemfontein and the Western Cape.
Nkoana had thought only the physically fit could join the military, but soon discovered it offered multiple careers one could explore. With her nursing background and experience, Nkoana chose to be a paramedic.
In March 2013, Nkoana was one of the 200 soldiers of the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) selected to go to the Central African Republic (CAR) as part of South Africa’s peace-keeping mission there.
They would go on to fight a series of battles outside Bangui in the CAR. And Nkoana was the only woman on the frontline.
Michel Djotodia, leader of the rebel alliance, Seleka, had declared himself the new president of CAR and forced the then serving president, François Bozizé, out of the country.
It wasn’t going to be an easy task for the SANDF.
Nkoana takes me back to noon on that fateful Friday on March 22, 2013 when she first spotted the rebels; she remembers it all like it was yesterday.
She literally transports me to CAR with her vivid detailing of the series of events that unfolded. As she relates this story of death and danger, I hear the bullets, the gunshots and the rebels roar; I see the ravages of war in CAR.
Nkoana was amongst the first to see the rebels attack.
“We saw a civilian running away from those people, the rebels. I was at the gate of the base’s duty room. I ran to the sick-bay as a medic and told the people that the rebels are coming, the rebels are coming.”
When she reported it, nobody believed her. But she persisted, proceeding to gather her bulletproof vest, helmet, and weapon.
Her fellow soldiers only believed her when the Officer Commander (OC) ordered them to prepare and check what was happening outside the base. He tasked a team from the special force.
Around 5PM, this team was ambushed by the rebels, but they fought back tenaciously, and the rebels fled.
Three men of the special force team returned injured, one shot in the chest, the other had sustained a fracture in his femur and the third was wounded.
For the first time, the base knew it was rough outside.
“As medic personnel, we took them to civilian hospitals outside to get other doctors to help us,” recalls Nkoana.
Around 10PM the following day, the rebels came back again firing bombs. The SANDF could hear the entire din from their base. The Sergeant Major asked Nkoana to go with them to replenish food for the soldiers who had been on night vigil.
She grabbed her medical bag, helmet, bulletproof vest, weapon and left with the men, not hesitating for a minute.
It was around 12PM, when she along with the others drove 15-20 kilometers to the location of the stranded soldiers; it was quiet when they got there, but as soon as the rebels saw the SANDF vehicles, they started shooting again.
“We went out of the car and took cover, and then we started shooting back. While fighting, I managed to get one of the guys that was injured and suggested I take him back to the base because he could not run, fight or do anything,” she says.
The OC opted otherwise and Nkoana and the injured men had to wait even as the bullets rained over their heads.
At 5PM, as they were heading back to camp, the squad was ambushed again. This was when a number of lives were lost, says Nkoana, for the first time sounding emotional.
They did what they did before: stop the vehicle, step out and take cover.
As Nkoana was taking cover, one of the soldiers had been shot in both legs and was screaming out for her. She bandaged him but the chaos was far from over; yet another soldier was calling for one of the two medics that were there. He had almost missed a bullet but it had grazed his neck.
By then, Nkoana and the other medic could see dead bodies all around them. The injured soldiers shouted to them to leave because they were going to die.
“We told them we can’t leave. We are still alive and we can at least take cover with you. Let’s move to a safer place; the guy that was shot in the legs said he couldn’t walk and we should leave him there.”
The team refused and carried him to safety.
Around midnight, the OC called from the base asking for Nkoana. Many of the soldiers were already back at the base, but the young woman had stayed on with the other fighters.
“When they called, I switched off my phone because it was loud and we could hear the voices of the rebels from where we were hiding.
“I switched the phone back on and sent a message telling them ‘we are here, we are hiding, we’ve got two patients and we cannot get out of this cover’.”
Nkoana had full faith she was going to return home to her son in Senwabarwana, her hometown in South Africa’s Limpopo province. It kept her alive.
She thought she would be running on foot back to the camp because there was nothing that could rescue them.
Many soldiers died, but many of the rebels also died, so there was not going to be any mercy towards the SANDF.
Nkoana then received a text advising her and her patients to remain in hiding and stay calm. Around 4AM, she received a call asking if they were still undercover; they were then instructed to somehow make their way to the airport.
“The commander of the rebels was requesting the SANDF to go back to their country,” she says.
But Nkoana and the injured soldiers had to travel another 15 kilometers to the airport; she was still unsure of their safety. Their hideout was next to a tar-road and the rebels were driving up and down firing bullets into the sky.
A peace agreement had been signed, so the soldiers could go back to camp; get their belongings and head home to safety.
“[But] we were not sure the people in the streets knew of the peace agreement because if they see us they will shoot us; the agreements were done at the base and not in the streets,” says Nkoana.
They refused to come out of hiding.
They heard the Casspir (armed ambulance) that was sent to fetch them and the bodies of the dead soldiers, but they were still unsure if it was safe to surface. The vehicle went up and down, back and forth, looking for them.
“Around 7AM, the next day, we decided to go. They sent me a message to just surrender; I then told the guys ‘the Major says we should surrender’. I was the Corporal by then and the guys asked if we should shoot. I told them ‘no, because if you shoot one bullet, they will kill all of us’.”
Nkoana took command of the situation, complying with her superiors at the base.
The drama didn’t end there though.
Just as they got on to the road, the rebels came after them and took their weapons, bulletproof vests, ammunition and they were instructed to lie down. They then had to stand up and walk in a single file not knowing where they were being taken.
On the way, they climbed on to a bakkie (pickup truck) driven by other rebels which took them to their base. The soldiers at the base had started packing, and they had to pack up too. They were all then taken to the airport to head back home to South Africa. Finally, it was all over.
Nkoana was a 27-year-old woman who defied death at the hands of the rebels. She was honored with a bravery medal, invited to the opening of Parliament in South Africa in 2014 and was given the Sword Of Peace.
Like Nkoana, another South African woman was also honored for her bravery fleeing the rebels in CAR, with an equivalent of R3 million ($323,000 at the time) supporting the mission, in her bag.
Susette Gates, a mother of two sons, currently living in Pretoria, was deployed as the financial officer of the South African mission in CAR in charge of payroll. Before being employed by the SANDF, she had been a hairdresser, she says, laughing, when she speaks to us.
Like most people looking for jobs, she had applied for an open post at the Wonderboom military base and been accepted; she continues to work here.
I meet her at this base – she’s not in uniform – and in her own office adorned with family portraits, certificates and medals.
She was the only other woman besides Nkoana selected for the CAR mission. Those fearful moments in CAR are forever etched in her memory.
When the rebels were attacking the SANDF, Gates was watching a horror movie on her laptop at the base. Little did she know the horrors unfolding around her.
Ironically, she was informed about the chaos in CAR on the phone by her sister in South Africa. Only then did she realize there was no electricity and people had left their homes at the camp.
She called out to everyone but was the only one left. She was later relocated to another place where she spent the night.
“The next morning, I went back to get my belongings. The next thing the rebels were in the base and they took everything, they even took the cars,” she says.
“If they could grab food, clothes whatever. I had my money with me; they opened my bag and asked what it was. I told them it was clothes and asked if I could keep it, but the bag of money was under the clothes.”
Gates was released and managed to get away with the R3 million; the money she had hidden under her clothes and that belonged to the SANDF.
The trip to the airport was grim because all she saw was a dry and dirty town, gunshots going off in the background. On the flight back home, she knew there were dead bodies of colleagues on the plane. Gates almost kissed the ground when she landed in South Africa, she says.
Both these women returned as heroes and were honored by South Africa’s Defence Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula in 2014. Of the 185 soldiers who survived the war, the two women stood out amongst the men. Today, there are other women fighting the rebels in the CAR like they did, risking their lives and saving the lives of the men around them.

Molatelo-036

Heroes Among Men

After cancer had spread throughout her body, and death was inevitable, Patricia Ferguson decided she wanted to be in control of it. So, she went on a hunger strike.
“She had always said she would rather take an overdose than become a burden,” says her son, Sean Davison.
Having flown from Cape Town, South Africa, to Dunedin, New Zealand, to be with his mother during her final days in 2006, Davison was confronted with a horrific scenario and a decision that is hard to comprehend.
Unable to move her limbs, Ferguson was bedridden. Bruises and bed sores covered her body and her flesh was starting to rot. She wished her pain would end and no longer wanted to be a burden on her loved ones. She had starved herself for more than a month but her body refused to give in.
Finally, she pleaded for her son to give her a lethal dose of morphine pills that she had saved up over days. Witnessing her suffering for weeks, Davison sorrowfully agreed to help his mother.
“My instinct was to keep her alive. But I realized that this was what she wanted, and if I didn’t help her she would have suffered a lot more,” he says.
He crushed the pills, mixed them in a glass of water, and handed it to his mother. After about an hour she peacefully fell asleep.
Davison says this was an act of compassion; New Zealand authorities said it was a crime. He was arrested and later sentenced to five months house arrest.
Helping his mother die seemed to split society. Although many sympathized with Davison – including Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who wrote a letter that helped prevent him spending time behind bars – others were appalled by his actions. While being kept as a prisoner in his mother’s house, Davison received two death threats.
In 2010, while awaiting his trial, Davison, now the Head of the Forensic DNA Laboratory at the University of the Western Cape, founded Dignity SA. It is an organization that is fighting to legalize assisted dying in South Africa.
“My mother would never have gone on that ill-fated hunger strike if she knew she had the option of an assisted death,” Davison wrote in a column in December last year.
But, just like he faced resistance in New Zealand, Davison has detractors in South Africa. Dr Albu van Eeden is the CEO of Doctors For Life, a group of doctors that campaigns against controversial issues, such as euthanasia, abortion and homosexuality. He claims suicide is an infectious disease.
“The concept of suicide contagion is a very well established principle in psychology and psychiatry,” he says.
Suicide contagion is defined as the exposure to suicide or suicidal behaviors from family, friends, or media, and can result in an increase in suicidal behavior. Van Eeden believes that 99.9% of suffering can be effectively treated with medicine.
“It’s just erroneous now when we have the most effective pain treatment in the history of the world, now suddenly there is a need for assisted suicide,” he says.
Assisted suicide is when a doctor provides the medication and/or information for a terminally-ill patient to end their own life, while euthanasia involves a doctor administering the medication. Today, euthanasia is legal in the Netherlands, Belgium, Colombia, and Luxembourg. Assisted suicide is legal in Switzerland, Germany, Japan, Canada, and in the US states of Washington, Oregon, Colorado, Vermont, Montana, and California.
In South Africa, assisted dying is illegal but some are trying to change that in courts and Parliament. The most recent case is that of the well-known advocate Robin Stransham-Ford, who insisted his cancer and kidney failure infringed on his constitutional right to dignity. In 2015, on the day Stransham-Ford succumbed to the cancer‚ the High Court ruled that a doctor could help him end his life. Numerous organizations, including the Department of Justice, the Department of Health, and Doctors For Life, asked the Supreme Court of Appeal to review this. In December 2016, the decision was overturned.
Aubrey Magerman, Attorney and Director at Magerman Attorneys, feels that assisted dying should be legalized; he says it is still a crime in South Africa.
“We’re back at square one, where we would be criminally culpable to assist someone in ending their life,” he says.
Magerman believes everyone should have a constitutional right to a dignified life and a dignified death.
“I have had my own grandparents pass away out in the rural Northern Cape under terrible circumstances, with no assistance, and in horrible pain, and being unrecognizable for weeks on end. It is terribly traumatizing for anybody. I wish, when it come to my time [to die], I will have the opportunity [to undergo assisted suicide].”
Magerman refers to the popular MP Mario Oriani-Ambrosini, who had stage-four lung cancer.
“One day he couldn’t take the pain anymore and he killed himself. His family found him with his brain and blood splattered all over the bedroom walls and on the bedding. So, I don’t think the State should tell us how to die,” he says.
Despite this, Van Eeden says assisted dying can have consequences beyond easing a person’s suffering.
“Once you allow it you are stretching man’s tendency to stretch the limit or the borders which makes the slippery slope happen,” he says.
“In Canada, they now want to make it possible for people who are asking for euthanasia to donate their organs. Suicide was originally only meant for terminal illness, for people with unbearable suffering, until they said ‘on what basis is physical suffering worse than mental suffering?’ So then they said ‘ok, we’ll allow it for mental suffering as well’.”
“So now you find a person can go to their doctor and say ‘I’m depressed, I’m worthless’. Maybe he’s a disabled person or an old person, and he says I don’t mean anything for anybody, I’m a burden to society, to my children, I think I’m in the way. I want to rather commit suicide and please you’re the doctor, you must do it for me. Now they can say to him, ‘You know what? Your life is worthless but it can have purpose, you can give your organs for donation&#8230; And this just shows you what a monster suicide becomes.”
Van Eeden is also worried about the regulation of the laws.
“Holland was not able to keep its regulations. Firstly, they said there would be a waiting time, and two or three doctors must agree with the decision, but all these things went out the door. Initially, it was only for patients above the age of 18, now it’s changed so that children above the age of 12 years old can ask for euthanasia without the consent of parents. The limits are constantly being stretched,” he says.
Magerman agrees that regulation is vital if assisted dying laws are introduced.
“What is required here is for the State to step in. It should be up to Parliament, which is the body charged with making legislation. It is not something that can be regulated in the courts.
“It creates absolute uncertainty. It is simply for Parliament to say we will for now on regulate assisted suicide or euthanasia and the parameters of that will be set.”
But Van Eeden has concern that State regulation opens the door for laws to be abused.
“It will always be cheaper to take a life than to treat a person and try and help him. So there’s a very strong financial incentive to any government once you start allowing assisted suicide.”
It’s a complex issue with many legal, ethical and religious variables to consider. Those against assisted dying say that it goes against the sanctity of life that is stressed by most religions.
One iconic religious leader defies this. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, in October 2016, said he would like to have the option of assisted dying.
“I have prepared for my death and have made it clear that I do not wish to be kept alive at all costs. I hope I am treated with compassion and allowed to pass on to the next phase of life’s journey in the manner of my choice,” he wrote in the Washington Post.
“For those suffering unbearably and coming to the end of their lives, merely knowing that an assisted death is open to them can provide immeasurable comfort,” he added.
In 1998, South Africa’s President Nelson Mandela asked the Law Reform Commission to look into assisted dying.
The commission decided that assisted dying should be legalized, even writing a draft bill. Despite this, it was never debated in Parliament, and continues to gather dust.
In 2014, Tutu lambasted the way Mandela was used as a political prop days before his death, calling it ‘disgraceful’.
“My friend was no longer himself. It was an affront to Madiba’s dignity,” wrote Tutu, who is often referred to as South Africa’s moral conscience.
Would assisted dying legislation have allowed Mandela to die with more dignity? It’s impossible to answer definitively, but a sobering thought nonetheless.

shutterstock_552442546

Mercy Or Monster?

In the ring he stands out like his dyed blond hair; cocky, yet mature beyond his years, with punches like heavy artillery.
Azinga Fuzile is a grade 11 pupil from Duncan Village, a rough shanty town known as the cradle of boxing, near East London in South Africa’s Eastern Cape province. In his corner is his canny trainer, Mzamo ‘Chief’ Njekanye.
“I wouldn’t have done it without Chief, I am very thankful to him. He is able to guide me in everything that is happening,” says Fuzile. His experience contrasts his age; he christened the boxing gloves in 2006 as a 10-year-old and fought 300 times as an amateur.
“I participated in trials and would fight three fights in one day, that’s why I had so many fights,” he says.
“I lost some fights but they were very few.”
In 2014, he captained his country at the Junior Olympics in Scotland, at the age of 17. The same year, he knocked out an opponent in the third round of the final to win gold at the African Youth Championships, in Gaborone, Botswana – the first South African to do so.
His short life is full of milestones; he won his first major professional title in September 2016 beating veteran brawler Macbute Sinyabi with a unanimous decision to be crowned the South African featherweight champion in merely his fifth professional fight. In doing so, he drew comparison with legendary South African Vic Toweel – also an early starter – who went on to become the South African bantamweight champion in his fourth fight and boxed on to a world title championship, at the age of 22, in 1950.
“People who need to speak about the South African championship are people behind us, me and my boy are looking at the international route,” said Njekanye after the surprise win against Sinyabi.
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“I see myself as a world champion, that is what I am looking at; I do have the ability to achieve it,” said Fuzile.
Njekanye believes the nickname ‘Golden Boy’ is more of a prophecy.
“I saw that this is something, I saw his direction, was I lying when I said this boy is a golden boy? The whole country can see that Chief was right, a lot of people just knew about him, I have been building him for years,” says Njekanye.
His ambition of winning a world title came sooner than expected.
Fight fans scratched their heads when it was announced that little known Georgian, Giorgi Gochisvili, was to face Fuzile for the WBC youth featherweight title in Mdantsane, in the Eastern Cape.
“We were preparing for someone we didn’t know, we even failed looking for information on him because we got the wrong name. The day before the fight we got the correct information and watched his videos on YouTube,” says Njekanye.
Fuzile won his first world title, three months after his triumph against Sinyabi, beating Gochisvili to a pulp in the first round. Doctors rushed Gochisvili to hospital to repair the damage of a left to the liver.
“I didn’t care who I was fighting, it did not matter. All I knew is that I was going to beat this guy, I didn’t even know his style,” says Fuzile.
A lot of the preparation for the fight was spent in class. Fuzile is studying grade 11 at Kusile Comprehensive High School in Duncan Village.
“We were working under difficult conditions; we had a challenge of the gym and examination papers in between the dates, we had to understand each other. For me, your education and career are parallel, you can’t undermine the boy’s career,” says Njekanye.
“I was able to manage, when you don’t have any things distracting you in life then it is easy to manage everything,” says Fuzile.
With the exploits of the Golden Boy comes the pain of loss for trainer Njekanye. In 2016, Njekanye’s product Xolisani ‘Nomeva’ Ndongeni, a successful South African world champion boxer, left his gym to join Colin Nathan in Johannesburg, under prominent Rodney Berman’s Golden Gloves Promotions. A troubled Njekanye sees this as poaching.
“These boys are being fooled by these guys from Johannesburg. It is all because of greed, most of the boxers have gone to Gauteng and most of them have returned with bare hands,” he says.
“You can make a life out of boxing, they always believe by going to people like Colin Nathan he will give them money, they don’t know those people see a business when they see them. Even my boy Azinga, they want him, that’s what you can say about these boxers, they have gone and come back with nothing.”
“You need to remember people like Nomeva Ndongeni came from my hands; I took him from the streets, before Fuzile everyone was talking about Nomeva,” says Njekanye.
The trainer takes responsibility for all his precious prodigies.
“These boys come from an unfortunate background. Without me, Duncan wouldn’t be producing these boys, tell me who else is doing what I am doing to these lads. This is the second world champion to come out of these hands. I have done this thing voluntarily; there was never any contribution,” he says.
The Golden Boy’s impressive career is set to continue in February. Njekanye confirms that a fight, that could be international, is on the cards.
As for Fuzile, he is training and waiting for his examination results so he can qualify for his final year at school. He hopes to pass with flying colors in both ring and classroom this year.

The Schoolboy  Who Teaches Boxers  A Lesson

It is fascinating that many entrepreneurs fail to formulate business models, while some don’t even know what a business model is.
A simple definition of a business model is a plan for the successful operation of a business, identifying revenue sources, a customer base, products, and details of financing.
A unique business model can be the distinguishing factor that will set you apart from your competition.
If your competitors have a bigger market share, are more capitalized and better capacitated,  how can a different business model push your business ahead?
Malcolm Gladwell’s book David and Goliath looks at how David avoided fighting Goliath on his own terms, with swords and spears; he rather used what he knew best, because he could not have won if he tried to play Goliath’s game.
History has shown how the mighty often end up falling – and you can be the one to take them down.
Today, Naspers is the largest company in Africa and seventh largest internet company in the world by market capitalization. More than 60% of their value comes from their 34% shareholding in Tencent Holdings in China, but they still want to dominate in media and technolgy.
If you decide to go head-to-head with this enormous company, do not try to beat them at their own game; rather compete with them using a different approach. If you look at Apple, Google, Facebook and Amazon in Silicon Valley, they started by being disruptors.
I highly recommend that you learn the art and science of coming up with business models. Corporate companies, on average have at least four business models to make money.
The Founder and Group Chief Executive of Discovery Limited, Adrian Gore, is reported to have all his personal investments in the company. Some might think it’s risky to have all his eggs in one basket, but Discovery has diverse business models, such as medical aid, short-term insurance, and investments.
There are various types of business models. Telecom and electronics companies often use a model of prepaid or pay as you go.
Others, like MultiChoice and Netflix, use subscription, where you pay a continuous fee to access services or content.
Product to service is one of the most powerful models and is often used by tech companies. Uber, the world’s largest taxi company, owns no vehicles. Airbnb, the world’s largest accommodation provider, owns no real estate. Facebook, the world’s most popular media provider, creates no content. Instagram, the most valuable photo company, sells no cameras.
Low-touch is another model used by many retail companies, such as Shoprite and Walmart. They lower their prices by decreasing services. A similar model is Freemium, which offers basic services for free, but charges for the premium version, as LinkedIn does.
An interesting one is a reverse auction, where businesses bid for the amount they are willing to be paid for their service. The seller with the lowest amount wins.. One usually used with cars, is Leasing, where you rent than sell.
The crowdsourcing model is currently popular. This is where you get a group of people to contribute content for free, while you make money from advertising revenue; YouTube has mastered this.
Africa is excluded from these pioneering models. Eighty percent of the world’s mobile money transactions take place in East Africa, while $148 million a day is transacted every day using Mpesa and 40% of Kenya’s GDP is transacted through mobile money. Africa is powerfully positioned in this area and needs to make the most out of it.
We are living in an age with unlimited access to information. As Africans we have no excuse not to be competitive on a global scale. But, there needs to be an economic revolution in our consciousness that allows us to stand tall on the world’s stage.

A Revolution For  Global Domination

Decisions made by major rating agencies come and go. The more they change, the more they stay the same. Standard &amp; Poor’s has been the latest credit bureau to cut South Africa some slack, in not cutting the sovereign to a non-investment grade. Similar leniency has been shown by Fitch and Moody’s over the past 12 months. In the following year, they may however not be that patient, demanding more tangible progress with reforming the labor market, political cohesion and overcoming the challenges that poorly managed state-owned enterprises (SOEs) pose to economic growth.
Admittedly, no one likes being told what to do. That applies to decision makers in the public sector as well as in the private sector. South Africa continues to flirt with the makings of a recession, where another slip on the credit rating ladder could open up the possibility of borrowing funds from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). While this conjures up images of a bailout, it may not necessarily be as bad as it sounds. Loans come with prescribed conditions to them. The biggest will be boosting GDP growth to a more respectable level, from the lethargic level of 1% it appears destined to grow by over the next few years. The détente that was brokered this year between the government and leaders in the private sector, to halt a further slide in the country’s rating, is significant. It shows the two sides being poles apart on many things, but that the success of the economy is not the preserve of only one side.
Public-private partnerships (PPP) have emerged as a credible tool in meeting infrastructural development challenges, by harnessing the strengths of the private sector and government. The private sector provides technical know-how, management and finance for any key infrastructure project. The public sector offers security for private sector investment and also guides the PPP process through a legal and regulatory framework. A special purpose vehicle is established by the private sector, which raises a combination of debt and equity to finance the project. This structure is particularly important for SOEs; the financier will look more at this structure than it will at the cash-strapped public entity.
This framework is internationally recognized and respected. It encompasses a spending program of more than $58 billion, stretching over the following three fiscal years. Much success has already been seen with Africa’s largest PPP project –the Gautrain Rapid Rail Link, which came in around $1.7 billion. Renewable energy projects have also been successful.
However, the Infrascope project, financed by the World Bank to investigate how prepared and willing 15 African countries were to implement key PPPs, found that the process had challenges. Projects can be difficult to execute, legislative and regulatory processes can be tricky, and a high level of financial skill, sectoral knowledge and familiarity with the different structures which PPPs are needed. International investors also observe that bids have a large element of non-price factors, such as the promotion of black economic empowerment, job creation, socio-economic development and industrialization. Foreign bidders say that these local factors are too demanding and play a larger role than they should. Local stakeholders, such as trade unions, are also skeptical of PPPs, mistaking them for privatization of government assets and wary of the job losses which could accompany such projects.
It is not enough that South Africa’s GDP is growing by less than 1%, nor is it enough that reforms in the labor market have been insufficient to dent a 27.1% unemployment rate. It is also not sustainable that around half of South Africa’s population receives some form of welfare and dependency benefits.
How long it takes to rebuild the economy is difficult to say. It will take at least as long as the 33 consecutive months at which the annualized rate at which the South African Reserve Bank’s leading indicator has contracted.
Amid all the uncertainty, the one mantra which remains steadfast is that politics leads economics.

An Uneasy Partnership  That may be necessary

The tense, but eventually successful, haggling of a natural gas supply deal between Tanzania and Nigeria’s Dangote Cement is a pointer to what awaits East Africa as the region sets off the delicate journey of exploiting its new found vast reserves of oil and gas.
Tanzania’s President John Magufuli on December 10 announced that an agreement had been reached to supply natural gas to Dangote’s $500-million cement factory in the East African nation’s southeastern town of Mtwara, ending tensions after price negotiations with the state-owned Tanzania Petroleum Development Corporation (TPDC) stalled.
“They (Dangote Cement) will now buy natural gas directly from the state-run TPDC instead of going through middlemen,” Magufuli said after a meeting with the company’s chairman, and Africa’s richest man, Aliko Dangote.
Magufuli blamed unspecified middlemen for “interference”, saying Dangote Cement had sought “at-the-well prices” and that the issue had now been resolved to supply the company with the commodity at a “reasonable” tariff.
The Tanzania-Dangote price haggle offers a sneak-peek of the tough oil and gas supply contract negotiations that authorities in East Africa are certain to face in the exploitation of newly struck reserves.
East Africa has caught the attention of the global energy industry following the discovery of huge reserves of oil in Uganda and Kenya and natural gas in Tanzania. An estimated 6.5 billion barrels of oil were discovered in Uganda’s Albertine basin near the border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). In Kenya it is estimated that the recoverable reserves total 750 million barrels of crude.
Tanzania said in February 2016 that it had discovered an additional 2.17 trillion cubic feet (tcf) of potential natural gas deposits, increasing its total estimated recoverable natural gas reserves to more than 57tcf.
The exploitation of these vast reserves will however require caution to ensure the region avoids the pitfalls of the unpopular oil curse. The nature of contracts reached with buyers has a direct impact on the country’s development.
Supply contract negotiations are not an easy task because one has to juggle maximizing revenue for government and investor protection from high cost of doing business. Given the lengthy life and complex nature of supply contracts, a miscalculation has monumental effects on either of the negotiating parties and it is vital that keen attention is paid during the entire process to attain a balance.
“One of the key concerns is that African governments that are major producers of fossil fuels (and other minerals) do not receive sufficiently large rents or revenues from the production of these extractive products. This is attributable to a number of reasons, including contracts and regimes that are not designed to extract maximum rents,” the African Development Bank (AfDB) and the African Union (AU) say in a joint study titled Oil and Gas in Africa.
Oil and gas supply contracts are particularly complex because they are not fully driven by demand-supply factors; at times they are driven by geopolitical factors. Newcomers in the game must tread carefully or risk being short-changed by the more experienced industry insiders who are privy to sale strategies.
The middle-men have a nose for quick cash and will not miss a chance to ride on the inexperience of new players in the industry to profiteer through deal-cutting. The middle-men, in most cases, fan graft in order to thrive, leaving in their wake massive damage.
Benchmarking with peers and best practice is the way to beat such odds because it helps build on contract experience. The World Bank-backed Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI) can help address such challenges by laying bare all the deals.
“Accountability and transparency in the management of public resources is critical in ensuring positive development results impact – and perhaps nowhere more so than when significant natural resource wealth such as oil and gas are present,” the AfDB and AU say in the report.
Under the EITI, mining firms are required to publish payments made to governments and to make public revenues received available for audit and monitoring. The EITI monitors and reconciles company payments and government revenues. Each signatory country owns the process, which is overseen by participants from the government, companies and national civil society.

Prepare For  tough negotiations

If you can’t find one in the metal, take a look at a picture of a 2003 Lamborghini Gallardo. Well over a decade later, it will still take your breath away with its daring design. It’s a moving tribute to Belgian designer, Luc Donckerwolke, who was in his thirties at the time.
While you’re at it go back to the Turin Motor Show in 1965 and the launch of the Miura – the car that made Lamborghini legendary. It didn’t have an engine yet, but that chassis was simply way ahead of its time.
It was proudly displayed by the founder, Ferruccio Lamborghini, himself. The former tractor mechanic was subtly giving Enzo Ferrari the middle finger.
Ferruccio’s story, no doubt fabricated over the years, is the clichéd movie script of rags to riches. He is posted to the island of Rhodes during World War II and becomes a wizard at repairing cars, trucks and motorbikes with extremely limited resources.
Returning home, he finds a desperate need for tractors on the farms around Modena and builds one a month using derelict military vehicles. Ferruccio becomes a prosperous businessman and sports car enthusiast. But he has a slight clutch problem with his Ferrari 250 GT and pulls into Enzo’s factory nearby.
<div id="attachment_4468" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4468" decoding="async" loading="lazy" class="size-medium wp-image-4468" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/shutterstock_492559927-Christopher-Lyzcen-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />Lamborghini Hurácan, interior view</div>
According to legend (which I believe entirely), Enzo dismisses the tractor trader and the bruised Mr Lambo sets out to build his own car with a V12 engine. Just a few years later the 350 GT is born to public acclaim.
But despite shocking the world with the revolutionary Countach in the early seventies, the wicked witch of bankruptcy was hovering around the next corner. A huge tractor order went sour, there were problems with the workforce and Fiat took over the car factory.
And that was just the start of juggling with this rather glamorous hot potato. Lamborghini was passed from a wealthy Canadian to ambitious Swiss brothers – then to the Chrysler Corporation and, in 1994, to the well-heeled Suharto family from Indonesia.
Finally, after a complex series of negotiations, Audi AG became the sole owners of Automobili Lamborghini on August 4, 1998. Similar to many of the previous takeovers, renewed energy and a cash injection resulted in a stunning new model – the flagship Murcielago. Yes, they do find exotic names – mostly after fighting bulls!
So, how are they doing financially this time around? Just great judging by 2015 figures. Global supercar sales soared 28% to 3,245 units. Turnover from $707 million to $980 million. And all future projects are financed out of cash-flow.
“In 2015 we achieved business growth for the fifth year in a row and historic heights with key figures,” says President and CEO, Stephan Winkelmann.
“We have also made wide-reaching strategic decisions that will facilitate the company’s mid and long-term success in global luxury automobile markets.”
It was really the Gallardo, the top selling Lambo with 14,022 rolling off the production line, that set the wheels in motion to boost the company. It even got the Jeremy Clarkson seal of approval.
“So while the Ferrari howls and a McLaren hums, the Lambo bellows. And while the racers were styled by aerodynamicists, the Lambo was designed to make people say ‘wow’. On your deathbed, you’ll remember a drive you took in it. And you’ll go through the Pearly Gates smiling.”
Radical stuff.  But you may get the idea that there was just a touch of pressure in bringing out the replacement after 11 years.
And the fighting spirit of the late Ferruccio has been embodied in the new Huracán.
There is a simple formula for the new generation of sports cars. Smaller Engine + Turbo + New Tech = Better Performance + Better Consumption + Reduced Emissions.
The Huracán ignores it. The mid-mounted naturally-aspirated V10 engine remains, along with stratified fuel injection. Or if you would like the formal Italian description: Iniezione Diretta Stratificata or IDS.
That may not mean much until you have pushed the ignition button and get thrown back into the low and firm sports seats (in a choice of 13 color combinations), which amazingly can accommodate a lanky 1.98-meter frame.
It’s the performance you would expect from a supercar with a basic price tag of $368,000. The Ferrari 488 GTB will do it, so will the McLaren 570S. They all hover around the 3-second mark, although the owners may argue about the defining decimal point.
According to Lamborghini’s South African Brand Manager, David Tarry-Smith, there is more emotion and character in driving a Huracán – which may seem like flimsy factors to motivate a substantial buying decision, even if it is the only four-wheel drive in this segment.
But the more brutal ride does seem to have caught the imagination of the red-blooded male. “Worldwide only three percent of our Lamborghini owners are women,” says Tarry-Smith.
And that statistic, according to an article in Reuters Lifestyle, could be costly for all high-performance carmakers. With the number of financially independent women on the rise, a potentially big market is being neglected.
“Any woman can drive those cars,” says 76-year-old Sonja Heiniger, the Swiss owner of an internet services firm.
She goes against the odds, owning four Lamborghinis and hitting the race track in a Porsche! Her latest acquisition is a $375,000 Gallardo Super Trofeo Stradale special edition in “Rosso Mars” red.
Right now, that doesn’t seem to be impacting sales of the Huracán. More than 4,500 have already been shipped from the Bolognese headquarters with the chassis being assembled by Audi in Germany. In fact, the new R8 also shares a similar power train.
You will also find that the parent company has been a guiding light with the superbly refined instrumentation. A virtual dashboard in a single screen with all functions integrated.
The design is ruled by hexagons (apparently inspired by the carbon atom) and the shape is found everywhere from the air vents to the red cover of the stop/start button.
But it’s the shape of the new contender that will have all eyes trained on you from the outside. It retains the Gallardo DNA but with cleaner, precise and more modern lines. All designed to “fend the air and tame the road.”
The South African allocation for this year is a mere 30 units and all have been signed up. But, with a deposit of around $37,000, you can hop on the list for next year. The wait will be around six months.
If you are a family man who fancies the raging bull emblem, all is not lost. Porsche proved that a sporty SUV can be a top seller and the Lamborghini Urus is around the corner. It will be turbo-charged with a hybrid option and there is the objective of being the fastest SUV on the planet – although it may not go too far off-road!
Winkelmann is aiming at selling 3,000 units a year – which would almost double Lamborghini sales.
The little town of Sant’Agata in northern Italy, with a population of 7,283, is destined for a shake-up.

Tag: February 2017

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A Revolution For Global Domination

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Prepare For tough negotiations

Made To Make You Say “WOW”