It’s just before sunrise. All is still in the remote bushland, as the eight trainees line up. It’s cold this morning, you can see steam from their mouths as they yell “Yes sergeant” in unison. They are raw and it’s not quite the early morning they are used to.
This is the Black Mamba anti-poaching squad made up of five women and three men. They’ve been transferred from a private game farm in Hoedspruit, South Africa, to learn how to track down poachers as keenly as poachers hunt rhino.
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One of the problems that has marred anti-poaching is the lack of professionalism and bite. Now private companies like Protrack are being brought in to sharpen up the thin line that stands between rhinos and extinction. Leading the stage is Vincent Barkas, a former soldier in the South African army, who spent years fighting border wars near the Zimbabwean border.
“Everything is intelligence driven and crime prevention now. Your tracking is still very important but you don’t need the world’s greatest tracker to catch these people. It’s all about area coverage. We lost more rhino in 2011 than we did in the past 25 years. Of those 16 that were poached, 12 were on unprotected farms. They were targeting the softer animals. In 2012, we got it down to 11,” says Barkas.
According to Barkas, he thinks it has been too easy to become a guard. All you have to do is a weapons and self-defense course. He believes it’s time to up the ante as the game gains momentum. It’s no longer a case of tracking a poacher in the bush, you have to stop them before they can get the rhino horn out.
“With the rhino poachers now, whether they have shot the rhino or not, they are normally in a vehicle within an hour on a government road. Within five hours they are in Jo’burg,” he says.
In the beginning, all Barkas’ group needed was a single-shot shotgun to protect their farms. Poaching began to escalate in 1997 and the company forked out half a million rand on semi-automatic rifles and began training.
“In 1992, in the private sector of anti-poaching, your average anti-rhino poaching guy was a black man, that was paid R250 ($25) a month, given primitive accommodation and a bag of mielie meal,” he says.
Now things are different. It costs R20,000 ($2,000) a month to have one unit, working as a two-man team, on the ground. Most people who try, can’t cut it.
“For every hundred people you train, if twenty of them can become game guards then you are doing good,” he says.
It’s a dangerous job. The number one rule in the bush is that you are never safe. Last year, a lion killed a sleeping anti-poacher by dragging him out of a makeshift boma.
Full moons are the worst. Twenty people, armed and organized, can jump the fence of the Kruger National Park on these nights, says Barkas.
“As the Kruger starts sorting themselves out, the real men are going to come around and we are not ready for that. There is still a huge amount of farms in the private sector that have no guards or properly trained guards,” he says.
The anti-poaching movement is trying to stamp out rhino poaching but it’s difficult in a land of very rich and very poor.
“If you drive down certain roads that border the former homelands you’ve got game farms on this side, which are just wealth green trees and wildlife lodges, and then you have got poverty,” he says.
Most of the communities in the surrounding areas of big game farms live in poverty. For them it is hunting. Many consider the farms as rich white-owned locations to be used to feed families.
People living here know who the poachers are but fear retribution. When poachers are caught many walk because police are slow to follow up.
Although rhino-based cases have seen conviction, a key prevention is catching poachers before they kill. Secrecy is as important as guns. Anti-poachers will spend 10 days in the bush on patrol. The spread of patrols is so wide, most never see another unit.
The foot soldiers in the war against rhino poaching have to risk their lives every night, especially when the moon shines. Often all they have is blisters to show for it. It’s an unsung job but without the rhino crusader, the rhino could be wiped off the face of
Africa.

The Rhino Crusaders  Who Fight By Moonlight

The narrow tar road, pockmarked by potholes and covered in dust here and there, meanders through the Beatrice farming area, just outside Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe. This competition between tar and dust is a microcosm of what is happening in the country. Vast acres of idle land lie cheek by jowl with well-managed farms churning out tobacco—a picture of progress and regression.
The lack of government and financial support is curtailing some new farmers’ hopes, but others are making hay—or rather growing tobacco—while the sun shines. This wealth was once the preserve of around 4,000 white farmers. Ragtag bands of militants and war veterans seized these rich commercial farms in 2000, when President Robert Mugabe abandoned the slow land redistribution process, as he felt the pinch from unrest and political pressure. It was a swift smash-and-grab that cost many lives. A mere handful of white farmers clung onto their farms.
Agriculture has taken a battering since those desperate days, but it still accounts for around a fifth of Zimbabwe’s GDP. Tobacco is the king of the crops.
Analysts say it is possible for agriculture, with the help of tobacco, to surpass mining in foreign currency earnings. This is likely to take time and more investment.
For now, new tobacco growers are slowly turning the corner. There are around 150,000 new black farmers dotted around the country, of which around 60% are tobacco growers.
Tobacco production this year alone is set to increase by around 20%, against last year, reaching the 170 million per kilogram mark. Zimbabwe is set to rake in $600 million in tobacco earnings this year, according to the Tobacco Industry and Marketing Board. It is still a long way from where production was in 2000, when production peaked at 237 million kilograms.
In those desperate days, the economy crashed and so did tobacco. The worst output since independence in 1980, was in 2008, when a mere 48 million kilograms were produced. This was a far cry from the years when hundreds of millions of dollars changed hands at the bustling tobacco sales floor in Harare.
In 2013, the growers are fighting back, according to ZB Bank chief economist, Best Doroh.
“That appears to be true, if we go by the current sales figures at the auction floors. Even the quality of tobacco being delivered appears to have improved as well. But the new black farmers still face significant challenges in terms of technical know-how, lack of financial support and equipment viability,” says Doroh.
In the bush-lined fields around Beatrice, at the end of the dusty road, farmers are toiling away towards the next crop.
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Forty-eight-year-old Edson Makina is plowing with the help of knowledge accumulated in years living on a commercial farm—the very farm he now tills. He says his father worked this land for a white farmer. He is one of the thousands who took over land in President Mugabe’s land grab.
“I feel empowered; I’m now richer than a British professor. I’m getting richer each day I wake up. To me, President Mugabe is my hero, a political messiah,” he says.
With a scarcity of tobacco on the international market, most black farmers are cashing in. The Chinese have increased their consumption, snapping up 45% of Zimbabwe’s crop, the largest share after the West.
Many in the industry believe the government could do more to help agriculture out of the doldrums. Doroh says the agricultural producer price-setting mechanism needs to be refined so that it acts as a guide for farmers before they invest.
“There is need for government to make prompt payments for inputs supplied by the sector’s main input suppliers such as fertilizer companies, seed houses and agriculture chemical suppliers,” he says.
This tobacco-selling season, Makina sold around 170,000kg of tobacco.
“With each bag going for $467 a kilogram, you can imagine how rich I am now. It has changed my lifestyle. My children are attending the best universities around the world, and those that are here are at private schools. I pay all the fees without any hassle,” he says.
It is in contrast with the poverty Makina grew up in.
“The land reform was a revolution to me. I grew up on the farm. My father… was treated like a slave. I’m told at surrounding farms, if you couldn’t maintain the correct temperatures at the tobacco barns, the white farmer would flog you,” he says.
But the circumstances under which Makina obtained his farm were marred by violence. Beatrice was one of the country’s most dangerous farming districts in the land grab of 2000. Makina downplays the violence calling it a mere exaggeration by the media.
“There wasn’t the scale of violence you people reported. It was distorted. In most cases, white farmers were provoking the new settlers that were merely demonstrating against land imbalances,” he says.
Makina may be working his way to the wealth of a British professor, but across Beatrice, there are vast tracts of land lying idle. It is often difficult to ascertain who owns it. Many in these farming districts complain land reform has given rise to part-time farmers and a new breed of “cellphone farmers” or absentee landlords, often civil servants, who struggle to invest from their meager salaries.
“There are many successful stories in this area; of course others are still struggling, here and there. Most banks are reluctant to finance new black farmers. It’s because the media has been despising the new farmer. Farming is not an easy business,” says Makina.
Back in the banks of Harare, the view is less emotion, more balance sheet.
“I don’t think banks are intentionally denying black farmers access to loans. Rather, what most banks are looking at is the viability of the particular farmers or clients. Where viability is not evident, then banks have no option but to look at other sectors and clients where risk is better mitigated. Most small-scale farmers do not have sufficient security to back up borrowings, and this makes it difficult for banks to be able to extend credit on an unsecured basis at a time when there are tight liquidity conditions in the market,” says Doroh.
The Commercial Farmers Union is training new farmers.
“We began to train many of them.Some of them are now producing more than me. Those farmers still limping, it’s due to banks failing to support them,” says Makina.
Makina is a living example of how well-trained, new farmers can be a symbol of success. He attended the best agricultural schools in the country. Makina says he has built 21 houses for his workers; they admit that there is little difference in pay from the days when they worked for a white farmer.
“The salaries are okay, just that the difference is that we can easily relate well to Mr Makina, because he is black, he is quick to understand our concerns, unlike the white man,” says Keeper Martin, a worker on Makina’s farm.
So life tilling the land in Zimbabwe remains harsh. Whoever wins the elections this year would do well to help the hard working tobacco farms of the country invest in restoring the shimmer of the golden leaf.

“President Mugabe  Is My Hero”

It’s the three-letter acronym, with a sting, that few can ignore. BEE—Black Economic Empowerment—is a decade old this year and has rarely been free of controversy.
Questions are being asked about whether BEE has brought more people of color into the South African economy or reached its expiry date.
There are many critics of the ruling African National Congress’ (ANC) policies. They claim that BEE has far from closed the gap between rich and poor, despite South Africa’s solid economic infrastructure and increased social welfare spending. South Africa’s GINI co-efficient numbers—the global measurement of inequality—remain among the highest in the world.
Professor Adam Habib, political commentator and new vice-chancellor of the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, says BEE was never intended to be a policy to bring previously disadvantaged South Africans into the economic mainstream, even though it was presented as such. For him BEE was an exercise in exquisite deception.
“The ANC’s aim was not to deracialize the economy, through investing in small business or entrepreneurs, but a critical decision to deracialize the apex of white business in South Africa, which they did and created a class of capitalistic and parasitic bourgeoisie,” says Habib.
Habib uses the word “parasitic” because he says the BEE super elite have not created new business, promoted Greenfield projects or stimulated job creation or entrepreneurship that’s sustainable or meaningful.
“The irony is, it’s easier to get a tender worth R250 million ($25 million) than it is to get R25,000 ($2,500) to start a small business,” he says.
Habib says, the policy needs a complete overhaul. As he puts it: “Pigmentation becomes a tradable commodity in South Africa.”
His three checkboxes to justify BEE are: for small business development to be prioritized; a “one bite at the cherry” clause to apply for those who benefit from BEE deals; and firm action to stimulate new enterprise.
Moeletsi Mbeki is less confident that there is anything worth salvaging from the policy enacted during his brother, Thabo Mbeki’s, presidential tenure. He says BEE has not benefitted the majority of South Africans, black or white.
“In the 10 years of BEE, what we’ve learnt was that it was an important device to create an economic oligarchy for the politically connected, which was always the aim. The majority of South Africans, black or whites, are no better off because of policies like BEE or affirmative action,” says Mbeki.
“The ANC needs BEE to continue to perpetuate the illusion that everyone can enter into this circle of wealth.”
BEE has come with a complex system of scorecards, codes and charters that cut across two broad aims of skills development and employment equity. It is broken down into additional categories and indicators so government can assess companies for BEE compliance.
The ANC’s man on economic transformation is Enoch Gondongwana, who failed to respond to FORBES AFRICA’s requests for comment.
The party’s secretary general, Gwede Mantashe, has criticized BEE, saying he has “serious grievances with BEE focusing on shareholding rather helping beneficiaries gain a deeper understanding of business”.
Mantashe has slated a lack of transformation, saying the new breed of black CEOs is mere window dressing. He has also criticized growing wastage as BEE companies use the state as a cash cow, by providing poor quality goods at inflated prices.
The Black Management Forum (BMF) disagrees and says BEE has to continue because it serves the country’s growth and development needs.
“BEE is a moral initiative to redress the wrongs of the past. It’s also a pragmatic growth strategy that aims to realize the country’s full economic potential, while helping to bring the black majority into the economic mainstream. Given the fact that the economy has not transformed to encourage participation, which reflects the demographics of South Africa, makes talk of a ‘sunset clause’ irrelevant and premature,” says Rowena Baird of BMF.
Baird argues that BEE is not a racially divisive policy because its aim is not to take wealth from one group to give to another.
There are lessons from countries such as Malaysia that embarked on a 20-year-long National Economic Policy (NEP) in 1970. It was meant to eradicate poverty and restructure society, to eliminate the identification of race in economic life. It promoted affirmative action in favor of Malays but also had the effect of pushing Chinese economic, educational and cultural life to society’s periphery, leading many Chinese to feel like second-class citizens.
For Mamphela Ramphele, former managing director of the World Bank and leader of new political party Agang, the Malaysian story should be a warning to South Africa that making citizens feel alienated is a recipe for disaster.
“BEE can only work if it has real intentions to redress the legacy of the past that systematically disadvantaged black people,” she says.
Ramphele says that more structured programs need to be in place. She says well planned employee share schemes can mean money in the pockets of a wider range of previously disadvantaged individuals.
The South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR) says racial inequality has been declining, but it’s not because of the post-apartheid policies.
Anthea Jeffrey, head of special research at the SAIRR, says: “Such inequality has been declining steadily since 1970 and started under the Nationalist Party.”
Factors she cites include rising skills, unionization, and better paid jobs for Africans.
“Redistribution via the budget has played a vital part; 16 million people are now on social grants. The government also provides free RDP houses, free schooling in 60 percent of schools, free healthcare to many, and free basic water and electricity to the indigent. In addition, public sector employment has been steadily expanding, while average wages in the public sector, where Africans predominate, outstrip those in the private sector by around 40 percent,” she says.
“Despite its evident successes, racial inequality remains stark. The poor are far from being content as rising social and labor unrest makes clear. The number one aspiration of adults living in relative poverty is to get a job,” says Jeffrey.
Unequal skills and a lack of opportunity divide; makes policies like BEE and employment equity irrelevant to the poor because legislation doesn’t bring them in from the cold.

Paragons Or Parasites?

When Pistorius appeared in court on June 4, his case was postponed to August 19 for further investigations. The Pretoria Magistrate’s Court was packed with journalists, who started arriving at 5AM. There was pushing and shoving to gain entry into the court building. Ten seats were reserved for the families of the accused and deceased.
Pistorius and his family were met by a large crowd of media outside the court house. Pistorius was wearing a charcoal gray suit with a blue shirt and tie, as he took his seat in the dock. The Blade Runner, as he is known, turned his back on photographers as he was greeted by his brother Carl, sister Aimee and uncle Arnold, before the proceedings. A clean shaven Pistorius spent the proceedings standing up.
It was a short court appearance, where the state asked the court for the matter to be postponed to August to complete the investigation. The docket is still with police. Pistorius’ legal team, led by Advocate Barry Roux, did not oppose the postponement for the appearance that will fall on the day Steenkamp would have turned 30.
After the appearance, when asked why the date of the postponement fell on Steenkamp’s birthday, Medupe Simasiku of the National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) said: “The date was an agreement between the two parties but we were not aware it was the deceased’s birthday. We are satisfied with the progress of the investigation and everything that has been done. We want to see this case going forward fair and square,” he says.
Simasiku says that they are hoping to have the docket in their possession before August 19. But legal experts say the case will be postponed once again, most likely, as the defense team would not have had enough time to study the docket to prepare their case.
Law expert, Advocate Percy Tshabalala, who is not involved in the case, says that once the investigations are concluded, the matter has to be set down and a trial date agreed on.
“The matter will probably be postponed for a trial date and this will give the defence time to prepare. From there, he [Pistorius] will have to plead and then the case will be under way,” says Tshabalala.
It has been established that the delay is due to outstanding forensic results. Police are still to give a report on the forensic analysis of the toilet door through which Pistorius shot and killed his girlfriend. The door is being studied to establish the trajectory of the bullets Pistorius fired, which would indicate where he was standing and whether he was wearing his prosthesis.
After being told the matter was postponed, by acting chief magistrate Daniel Thulare, Pistorius softly replied: “Yes your honor”.
After telling Pistorius of the postponement, Thulare took a swipe at the media. This was brought on by graphic photographs of the crime scene, shown by British satellite news channel SkyNews.
Thulare warned against what he referred to as “scandalous and possibly contemptuous” reporting and trial by the media. The photographs showed the bullet holes and blood-spattered bathroom, where Pistorius shot Steenkamp. Thulare asked the state to investigate how information related to the case had come into the public domain. He says this kind of reporting can hinder judicial processes.
“Anyone who has information that might assist at arriving at decision must approach the NPA. It is important that we rally behind the call. It is important that we invite our colleagues from around the world to respect the republic’s processes,” says Thulare.
Pistorius’ family has also lambasted the publishing of the photographs. In a statement on his website, the family says: “We were shaken by the graphic images, leaked into the public domain this week, of the accident scene at Oscar’s house. It has always been our plea that the legal process be allowed [to] run its course with integrity. The leaking of evidential material into the public domain, before the court case, does not advance this process. We continue to have great faith in the South African legal justice system and believe that Oscar’s account of what happened on that terrible night in February will be borne out by the evidence that the defence team will lead in court”.
Pistorius, who is arguably South Africa’s best-known athlete, enjoys support from all over the world. Messages flood his website.
“I felt deeply saddened by the images that appeared today of Oscar entering the court room and not being left alone. He could hardly get to the building. Oscar, please believe that there are those of us who truly believe in you and I will continue to pray for you. My support will not waiver. Oscar I know that the courts, in the end, will do the right thing. Stay strong Oscar and don’t ever forget that you are a good man with a good heart, who made a terrible mistake. Lots of prayers are coming your way,” wrote one supporter.

The Pain Of The Blade Runner

It was a hot summer’s day, just after midday in November 2003. John Field was sitting at his office in the wealthy suburb of Sandton, South Africa, when the phone rang.
“The Scorpions are coming!” said a colleague from Investec.
The Scorpions were the country’s feared anti-corruption investigative unit, now known as the Hawks. The word was that the Scorpions were coming not only to raid his company, FedGroup Holdings, but to close its doors.
The Scorpions never came, but it triggered years of turmoil. They left FedGroup to the Financial Services Board (FSB)—the regulator for the financial service industry.
“It was four years, but that first day was terrible. It’s hard to actually put it into words,” says Field.
The writing had been on the wall a week before. Field had received a letter from FSB saying it had found irregularities in his participation bond company, FedBond—a subsidiary of FedGroup Holdings, a family-owned investment and trust company.
If the Scorpions or FSB closed down FedGroup, Field would lose everything he had built since 1990. He founded the company; a participation bond company, FedBond and later FedTrust, which dealt in trusts, wills and estates. His investors, including around 10,000 pensioners, stood to lose everything.
It was a sorry chapter in a company Field had been working towards since 1984. In that year, he applied for a participation bond license from FSB, but it took six years, longer than he had expected. In 1989, Field bought the smallest participation bond scheme in the country at the time, Haley’s Trust—later renamed FedBond—for R100,000 ($39,000). It was the simplest way he could get a license to manage his own company. He registered the bonds at R340,000 ($133,700) and grew the investment to R1.6 billion ($271.6 million) in 10 years, to become the largest participation bond scheme in the country. A participation bond provides investors with the certainty of capital preservation, coupled with the consistency on interest.
All was going well until the letter from FSB stated that the company should stop receiving new investments. The inspectors from FSB said the company appeared to be cash-strapped and that the scheme did not qualify as a participation mortgage bond scheme.
A few days later, Field and members of his board were summoned for a meeting at FSB’s offices. The FSB registrar told them that, based on a report by inspectors, FedBond was terminally ill and declining in financial soundness. This was mainly because the properties bonded by the scheme were unsound or not generating sufficient income to be able to pay participants their interest and capital payments. FSB said FedBond had a net shortfall of R4.3 million ($584,200) in August 2003. The registrar concluded what the team dreaded: that FSB would apply for curatorship. This is a way of guiding an ailing company back to health, under the stewardship of a new management team.
“To this day I cannot understand what the rationale was to try to close us down. It just did not make sense,” says Field.
Prior to its court appeal in support for curatorship, the FSB had called Field to take over management of around three poorly run participation bond schemes. In every case, not a single investor lost any capital and all continued to receive monthly interest on their investment.
While Field was trying to grapple with how to handle the situation, Investec made an offer to FSB to purchase FedBond out of curatorship.
On December 3, 2003, FedBond was informed of a court application for curatorship. Not knowing his fate, Field withdrew R250,000 ($39,500) from his account to give to his wife and four sons, while preparing for the worst and the possibility of arrest.
The court turned down FSB’s urgent application for curatorship. Field’s lawyer told him that they had agreed on a joint management agreement, whereby a monitor would be appointed to oversee the operations of the company. The judge wanted to give FSB time to prove its claims, by postponing court proceeding to January 2004.
These court proceedings were then postponed to February, when a monitor was appointed. The monitor would  look for any reason FedBond should be out of business.
In June 2004, the monitor submitted his first report to the court. It was positive. He recommended that the company be allowed to make capital repayments to its participants. Following this, the FSB registrar submitted an affidavit saying the company would not be able to cope financially and that it should remain under curatorship. The court extended the monitorship to January 2005. The agony for the company would continue, but Field refused to go down without a fight.
January came around, when Field worked on an affidavit with his legal team to apply for dismissal of FSB’s application for curatorship, because he believed there was no good reason for it. Having heard counsel from both parties and read documents submitted, the judge agreed to postpone the application again, to June 2005.
To make matters worse, Investec applied to join FSB’s application for curatorship of FedBond, claiming that it had a R344 million ($60.5 million) stake in Field’s company. When Investec bought out Fedsure, FedBond was one of the subsidiaries, of which Field was sole shareholder. Field had pre-emptive rights to the FedBond shares and Investec reluctantly parted with them. As part of the deal, Investec left the R344 million ($60.5 million) in FedBond as bridging finance to serve as security for non-performing bonds. Field maintained that the funds were never part of the scheme. Investec now claimed it was a participant and should therefore be secured and ranked equally with all the other participants in the scheme.
During the same period, Field became aware that confidential information relating to the company’s business was doing the rounds in the financial sector. A private investigator was called to scan their offices for surveillance equipment. A bugging device was found in Field’s office. He couldn’t find the culprit and had to be careful about what he said in the office.
Following months of negotiations with Investec, a deal was reached in July 2005. Field gave up R150 million ($21.8 million) to Investec. They agreed that it was the end of the bridging finance and also agreed to withdraw their request for FedBond to go under curatorship.
Investec was off his back, the remaining challenge was to get rid of FSB’s application for curatorship.
After numerous bad days, it wasn’t becoming any easier. At every court appearance there seemed to be a postponement. While Field was fighting FSB, his business was suffering. He attended another court hearing in October 2005, but judgment was reserved until December 2005. FSB’s application was dismissed.
Early in 2006, Field’s lawyers requested permission for FedBond to take in new investments from the public, but FSB refused. Without the funds, Field would not be able to make capital repayments.
Following a meeting with Field and FSB, a new monitor was appointed in November of the same year. He would do the same job as his predecessor. The back and forth between FSB and FedBdond would continue for nearly four years, meanwhile FedBond was losing money and clients. Of the 15,000 FedBond participants, 12,000 remained. Around R70 million ($9.3 million) was paid out to those who left.
“We had people ask us for their money. We repaid them and then a week or a month later they put the money back into the scheme. They just wanted to know if we had sufficient money to do that capital repayment. And we did. Every single cent,” says Field.
By June 2007, the company was still unable to accept new funds. Field approached FSB, but without success. Two months later, two weeks before an appearance at the Supreme Court, where an appeal was to be heard, FSB requested a meeting with Field.
FSB was thinking of withdrawing the appeal. It was reported in newspapers that the minister of finance intervened, because it was not in FSB’s interest to continue depleting their budget indefinitely in the pursuit of an application for curatorship that was going nowhere.
Once the dust settled, three months later, FSB granted FedBond permission to take in new funds and continue its activities. Though, it was not easy for Field to kick start the company. By the end of October 2007, after four years, seven court hearings and court appeals, his company had lost around R400 million ($57.8 million) worth of investments. The company’s reputation was damaged, but Field and his team worked hard to win back trust and survive.

Lawyers, Bugs And Trouble

What most entrepreneurs don’t achieve in a lifetime, he did in just over a decade. Mohammed Dewji single-handedly turned his father’s trading business into Tanzania’s largest import-export group. He grew Mohammed Enterprises Tanzania (MeTL) 30-fold and increased revenues from $30 million to $1.1 billion, by diversifying into everything from cement and real estate to energy and mobile telephony. The man claims to be worth at least $1.3 billion; as the company is not listed, it is difficult to make an independent estimate.
It’s not surprising that many have a hard time imagining the humble beginnings of Dewji. Legend has it that his family, who stem from Gujarat state in western India, were blown in a dhow across the Indian Ocean, landing in Zanzibar with very little. They moved south and his grandmother opened a small trading shop out of their home in Singida, a poverty-stricken town in central Tanzania. In this simple house, built from sand and mud, Dewji was born with the help of a midwife from around the corner.
“That wasn’t very smart. My mother and I almost died because I had the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck,” he says.
His father, Gulam Dewji—who had, by the mid-1970s, turned his mother’s shop into a flourishing import-export business— was able to send his six children to good schools. First, in Tanzania’s third-largest city, Arusha, later in the capital Dar es Salam; in their free time, Dewji and his siblings played tennis and golf.
“My father spent a lot of money educating us. He also believed sport creates discipline. He didn’t want us to just play a sport for fun. He wanted us to push ourselves. We probably have a thousand trophies at home that we won,” he says.
Until this day, there is almost nothing Dewji undertakes as a hobby. He either aims for success, or doesn’t bother. And so, he plows millions of dollars into Tanzania’s national soccer team, the Taifa Stars, instead of being content watching the odd game or kicking around a ball on a Sunday.
“I have no moderation. My wife always complains. She says, ‘Mohammed, why don’t you do things in the middle?’ It’s either very much or nothing at all,” he says.
His favorite sport has always been golf. Dewji spent many afternoons on Dar es Salaam’s golf course, not only because he was good at it, he had a three handicap, but also because he realized, from early on, that many high-profile business deals are concluded on the world’s 18-hole courses.
“I already liked to network as a very young guy. I was told that the golf course is a good place to meet important people. So I started playing golf. At one time, I even wanted to become a golf professional,” he says.
When his father saw that his son showed potential, he enrolled him at the legendary Arnold Palmer Golf Academy in Orlando, Florida, where Dewji also attended Saddlebrook High School. A few years later, when it became clear that Dewji wasn’t going to make the cut as a professional golfer, he decided to study international business and finance with a minor in theology at Georgetown University, an elite tertiary institution in Washington D.C. The University has a long list of alumni: former American President Bill Clinton; former Philippines President Gloria Arroyo and Jordan’s King Abdullah.
During his time at Georgetown, Dewji learned what he says were key lessons in leadership.
“Georgetown really molded me. It took me a step forward. I understood that you need to be dreaming, but not daydreaming. You need to try to dream a reality. Then you have vision,” he says.
Pietra Rivoli, deputy dean of Georgetown University’s school of business, who taught Dewji international finance, remembers him as a student with boundless energy.
“While other students tried to stay awake through discussions of exchange rates, Mohammed would stay after class to talk about how the readings might pertain to the Tanzanian shilling, and how Tanzania could address its economic challenges. Even at the age of 20, or so, he was thinking about how to improve life in his country,” says Rivoli.
Dewji never questioned whether he should return to Africa, after graduating in 1998. He joined his father’s business, which had by then become a million dollar trade and transport group, as chief financial controller. Five years later, at the age of 29, he was promoted to managing director, after expanding his father’s business swiftly.
“I went into manufacturing and value-addition. I built a distribution system and created branches,” he says.
Today, MeTL Group is buying and selling more than 200 commodities in east, central and southern Africa, from sugar to rice, salt, fertilizer, second-hand clothing, motorcycles, bubblegum, yeast and ballpoint pens. The group also exports 50 of its own brands, taking advantage of the fact that Tanzania borders eight countries.
“The goods that I am mainly dealing in are FMCGs [fast moving consumable goods]. It’s goods that touch people’s lives, that are needed by the common man,” he says.
The distribution of FMCGs is not easy in a vast country such as Tanzania, which measures one million square kilometers and where 80% of the population lives in far-flung villages. But with more than 100 trade outlets countrywide, MeTL Group has managed to undercut multi-national giants such as Unilever and drive them from the market.
“I have a big basket of goods. I have warehousing and logistics. I have over a thousand trucks. It’s all complimenting each other. It’s very difficult for people to come from the outside and compete with me,” says Dewji.
He invests in whatever sector he sees opportunity and growth potential. Or to say it differently: the only two industries Dewji is not involved in are beer and tobacco.
Agriculture is another key sector for MeTL Group, with 50,000 hectares of arable land, it is the largest private landowner. The company employs 24,000 people, making it the country’s biggest employer. Dewji’s sisal farms, tea gardens and cashew fields are good money makers. Nearly all the cashew kernels are shipped to the United States.
Always thinking two steps ahead, Dewji has been planning how to profit from his land, as Dar es Salaam, a city of 4.4 million people, grows quickly. He is turning a 17,000 acre plot, which he bought cheaply several years ago, 25 kilometers outside the capital, into a dry-port with an internal container depot. A railway connection will feed into Dar es Salaam’s massive harbor, which is slowly, but surely, running out of space. It will, of course, also generate huge profits.
Since MeTL Group already contributes 3.5% of Tanzania’s GDP, according to Dewji, it is fast outgrowing national boundaries.
“If you compare, for example, Tata and the MeTL Group, we are like Mickey Mouse. But if you look at their contribution to India, vis-à-vis my contribution to Tanzania, mine is bigger. You end up competing with everybody in your own country, and I don’t think that’s healthy. It’s a risk area. It’s a good time for us to replicate what we are doing in Tanzania in other countries,” he says.
A workaholic at heart, Dewji rarely thinks small.
“Slowly, slowly, I am planning to take on the whole continent. I am very bullish,” he says.
His five-year plan is to turn MeTL Group into a $5 billion empire.
“We have to constantly revisit our visions, because we are outgrowing them so quickly. Who would have thought we could turn our business from $30 million to $1.1 billion in only 12 years? I believe that by 2018, we will be a $5 billion business. Easy. It’s a no-brainer. If you look at the business we are in and the growth potential that there is, it’s amazing. My philosophy as a businessman is not to be satisfied with what I have got, but to always work harder to achieve more,” he says.
The MeTL Group, with Dewji at the helm, has expanded so drastically that it has outgrown the coffers of Tanzania’s banks. Dewji has found a solution. He goes to one of the continent’s powerhouses, South Africa, to finance new ventures. Most recently, he secured a $100 million syndicated loan through a grouping of banks.
“If I think of a top African businessman, Mohammed comes to mind. He works very long hours, is always on the move, has an eye for opportunity and a very good business sense. He is levelheaded and pays extremely close attention to detail,” says Helmut Engelbrecht, head of investment banking in Africa at Standard Bank, one of the financial institutions working with the MeTL Group.
Every venture Dewji pursues, links closely into his country’s national policy. When Tanzania’s government launched a national strategy for economic growth and poverty reduction in 2005, that was geared toward entrepreneurship, Dewji saw opportunity.
“I bought a lot of sick industries, including soap production, grain milling, rice and sugar blending. I also went into the edible oil business and the textile industry,” he says.
He first expanded MeTL Group’s edible oil refining capacity from 60 to 600 tons. This year, Dewji almost quadrupled the business when he purchased an additional 1,650 ton refinery, increasing his output to 2,250 tons of edible oil. It comes as little surprise that he has caught the attention of some of Africa’s wealthiest investors.
“I am being approached by many big boys, by multi-national companies that want to partner with me or buy me out. But I am not ready to sell yet. I can see so much more opportunity for growth. I don’t want to be paid based on what I am earning today, because I can see the tremendous potential. I am always looking five to 10 years ahead,” he says.
Another ailing sector Dewji tried to resuscitate is Tanzania’s textile industry. Knowing that the east African nation is the continent’s third largest cotton producer, he decided to buy and refurbish four run-down mills: three in Tanzania and one in Mozambique. His next steps will be into Zambia and Malawi, he says, considering Ethiopia as a potential fifth standpoint.
“We were quite lucky. Tanzania’s previous, socialist government had invested hundreds of millions of dollars in infrastructure to build textile mills. But under socialism everything collapsed. So we were able to acquire these industries very cheaply. Obviously the machinery was all run-down, the technology obsolete. We had to rehabilitate the mills by investing in top European and American machinery,” says Dewji.
He has turned MeTL Group into sub-Sahara Africa’s largest textile player, integrating the entire value-addition chain from ginning to spinning, weaving, processing and printing.
“This year, we are going to produce more than a hundred million meters of cloth. That is more than 2,500 times the circumference of the earth,” says Dewji.
Due to his entrepreneurial vigor, Tanzania is able to compete with the world’s largest and cheapest textile producer, China—at least within its own borders where government policies, including import tariffs on textiles and a standard value added tax (VAT) of 18% help protect the industry.
“Today, overall textile production is cheaper in Tanzania than in China. Labor is competitive in terms of pricing. Tanzania’s big advantage is that we have cotton, while China has to import cotton. So they cannot compete with me in my market,” says Dewji.
His success speaks for itself. This year, he will earn at least $85 million after taxes, he says.
“People often ask me: ‘Who is smarter, you or your father?’ I ask them back: ‘Is the person who goes from zero to 10 smarter, or someone who goes from 10 to a thousand?’ Obviously, it’s much easier to go from 10 to a thousand than to start from zero. So I believe that my father is much smarter than me,” he says.
Nothing could be further from his mind than taking it easy.
“People in Tanzania look at my wealth and think I must be sunbathing and playing golf all day. But I work really hard. I put in a hundred hours a week. It’s a never stopping game. You can never say, ‘I’ve worked hard enough now’,” says Dewji, who has 60 divisional board meetings every month, or two per day.
Every morning, Dewji—who lives with his wife, daughter and two sons in one of Dar es Salaam’s exclusive neighborhoods—starts work at 6AM, spending the first hour responding to emails and reading commodity reports. He runs meetings until lunch, by which time he has already put in almost seven hours of work.
“When I feel my energy levels starting to drop, I drive to the gym near my house. Every day, I run three kilometers and lift weights. I like to keep fit,” says Dewji, who is slender and the proud owner of a six pack.
After gym, he goes home for lunch and to play with his three children, for 15 minutes before he returns to the office until late at night. The only day he takes off is Sunday, when he spends time with his family.
“Until about four years ago, I also used to work on Sundays, until my wife almost divorced me,” he jokes.
Dewji is not only growing his own empire. He is putting Tanzania on the map, making sure the east African nation—which boasts the continent’s third largest gold reserves, as well as recently discovered uranium and gas reserves—will become one of Sub-Saharan Africa’s big economic players, alongside South Africa, Nigeria, Ghana and Kenya.
Already, Dar es Salaam is the second fastest-growing African city after Lagos. Tanzania, which boasts an average of 7% national economic growth over the past decade, has become one of the fastest-growing economies in the world. According to the World Bank, Tanzania’s per capita GDP more than doubled from $730 in 2000 to $1,500 in 2012.
“There’s no doubt that the country’s purchasing power is increasing,” says Dewji, who believes the whole of Sub-Saharan Africa, which currently has an overall growth rate of 4.8%, could achieve double-digit growth figures, if countries are well-governed, politically stable and attract investment.
As if Dewji didn’t already have enough on his plate, he is also in politics. The decision was made when he visited Singida, where he grew up, after returning from the United States. As he walked the city’s streets, he encountered an old man who was scooping yellowish water out of a dirty puddle. It was drinking water for his family.
“A lot of people die from water-born diseases in rural Tanzania. But every life has the same value. So I decided to run in the next elections to change the dire situation these people live in. I was 24 years old. My parents thought I was crazy,” he says.
Whatever Dewji sets his mind to, he turns into a success. In 2005, he was elected as a member of Parliament in the National Assembly of Tanzania. Five years later, he was re-elected in a landslide victory with 80% of votes. Not being a fan of politicking, Dewji, who is fluent in English and Kiswahili, says he decided to put his own spin on the role of an MP.
“I don’t really have time for politics. I don’t go to Parliament, and I don’t get involved in national politics, because I don’t want it to conflict with my business interests. All I do is serve my constituency because I believe people see hope in me,” he says.
He puts his money where his mouth is. Every year, he donates $500,000 of his own money to help the people of Singida. In the years Dewji has been representing the central Tanzanian district, the number of people with clean water has increased from 23% to 75%, while the number of secondary schools from two to 18.
“I studied theology as a minor because I feel that religion is complementing me. It makes you strive to become a better person. I am very conscious of everything I do. If you get too engrossed in making money, you lose focus on life. Life is very short. I don’t want to die with all this money,” he says.
In the meantime, he is a man who can afford to look good.
“I have a huge wardrobe of suits and over 200 glasses. I like to match the frames with my glasses. I like to match the frames with my suits. At the moment I am not very happy with my brand, because they have stopped distributing color frames, which means I can only wear black suits. You have to live well, but you don’t have to live lavishly to the extreme. You need to be humble. I could buy a plane, a Rolls-Royce or a Bentley. But I don’t. If drilling a borehole costs $20,000, you tell me to buy a watch for $20,000? To make a decision that has an impact on people’s lives is a one-second decision for me. If you get too egocentric, you lose your vision. It deceives you.”
So speaks the Tsar of Dar.

The $1.3 billion TSAR of Dar

They stretch for hundreds of kilometers. When it’s good, you feel like you are gliding over jet-black silk. But, when it’s bad, it’s like you’re juddering through dust and potholes. Driving an economy without roads is never easy. Especially when it comes to African roads, where transport costs remain among the highest in the world, according to independent analyst Andrew Maggs. The question is­: who pays for it?
The World Bank reports that only six countries in Sub-Saharan Africa have more than a fifth of their roads paved. Those with the most tar roads may surprise many: Ghana; Botswana; Mauritania; Morroco; Niger and Ethiopia, far from the economic giants of the African continent.
This is a sign that Africa is crying out for investment in roads.
“At present, Africa’s road network is falling short of its function as a means to bring about greater regional integration and boost trade. For landlocked countries in Africa, transport costs, including road transport, can reach up to 75% of the value of exports. The cost of building road networks, and thereafter their maintenance, is costly,” says Maggs.
A key to investment is the Trans-African Highways System, he says. It comprises of nine main corridors on the continent, totaling over 59,000km, linking Cape Town to Cairo.
You could argue that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but the Romans did build roads that helped build an empire; roads which, to this day, still exist. On the other hand, they didn’t have to handle heavy low-load coal trucks or 16-ton wheelers carrying groceries from Durban harbor to Johannesburg along congested roads.
This kind of heavy traffic is the reason why the South African government built a wider, faster freeway through Gauteng. Now, it wants its money back. Whether they like it or not, drivers in Johannesburg are going to have to pay for the R18 billion ($1.8 billion) road the government built, stretching more than 185km around Johannesburg and Pretoria; a road that has undoubtedly eased traffic.
This has been fought through court and on the streets. The government wants people to pay R8.5 billion ($842 million) alone for a hated tolling system. On the front line is Wayne Duvenage, former Avis car rental agency owner and leader of the Opposition to Urban Tolling Alliance (OUTA).
“At this stage I want to set the record straight. We know we have to pay for the roads. Society ultimately pays for all upgrading and infrastructure development. The problem here is how we pay for the roads. As several companies started to engage with South African National Roads Agency Limited (SANRAL) we realized how onerous and cumbersome and how inefficient the system is,” says Duvenage.
There are 3.5 million people on the road in Johannesburg. In October 2007, all it took was an advert in six newspapers, which drew a mere 28 responses, to legitimize the road agency SANRAL’s project, the Gauteng Freeway Improvement Project (GFIP), he says.
No one complained when development began, before the 2010 FIFA World Cup, until the first tariff prices for e-tolls emerged, explains Duvenage. The public’s gripe is the annual R1.5 billion administrative cost, omitted by SANRAL, when the tender was gazetted. When people started adding this to the road cost of R1.9 billion ($190 million), to be paid back over 20 years, opinions started to change.
Gauteng drivers are not happy that they will pay on average R300 ($30) a month for a road for which they already pay a fuel levy and extra taxes.
Over three years, there have been numerous protests against e-tolls. Bikers have revved their anger on the highways. The South African labor union, COSATU, has blocked the traffic with slow driving, vowing to cripple the system. OUTA managed to win a court interdict banning e-tolls in April 2012. The court ruling was overturned by the South African Constitutional Court a few months later. SANRAL argued that if e-tolls were not implemented immediately the debt would be too great for the country to recover.
In mid-June, more controversy, Kapsch TrafficCom AG, the overseas company awarded the billing tender, told Bloomberg that it would get an additional annual revenue boost of R670 million ($67 million) through South Africa’s e-tolls. The announcement inflamed opinion yet again.
“Who could believe SANRAL’s claims that e-tolling is beneficial to South Africans when the only proven financial benefit to date is to Kapsch? Kapsch’s bold trumpeting of their revenue figures has unmasked e-tolling as a government-assisted [program to create] profits for a foreign-based entity,” says Duvenage.
According to Vusi Mona, SANRAL spokesperson, money will not be going overseas. All toll fees collected will go to SANRAL, except for the service costs of e-toll, which will go to Kapsch, as specified in their tender contract, he says.
Kapsch have posted an 18% drop in stock, since the delay. SANRAL has also had its fair share of knocks, their average monthly expenditure to pay for GFIP will amount to R601 million ($60 million). Credit rating agency Moody’s has announced a two notch downgrade of SANRAL’s rating. The company says it has had to suspend its marketing activities and limit the sale of its bonds to depress borrowing costs. Another cost to the public, SANRAL says, is that future road plans have been put on hold, despite a government bail-out of R2 billion ($200 million).
Had the interim interdict remained in place, parliament may have had to appropriate more money from the national revenue fund at the expense of tax payers, even those who do not live in Gauteng, says Mona.
The final appeal is to be held at the Supreme Court, on September 25 and 26. If successful, OUTA’s last roll of the dice against e-tolls could see it scrapped, leaving SANRAL to find another way of collecting the debt.
“We just don’t want to be ripped off. I think they planned this very sketchily; they didn’t do enough research. They didn’t engage properly. Now the chickens are coming home to roost,” says Duvenage.
The campaign against e-tolls is not as strong as they would have liked. Duvenage says people have had  problems digging into their pockets to win the fight. In legal fees alone, OUTA has raised R8.4 million ($840,000) but needs another R3 million ($300,000) to tackle the government in court. They need to raise R1 million ($100,000) by July 21, which the official opposition party, the Democratic Alliance, has decided to fund. Duvenage estimates the government’s legal costs run more than R25 million ($2.5 million), enough to pay for 1.8km more road on the highway.
“We are fighting a case that government has free reign over our taxes to spend our tax money in the courts and society has to go out with a begging bowl,” he says.
In response to OUTA’s call for more private money, Mona says OUTA is wasting public money by going against past court rulings.
In the meantime, SANRAL’s e-toll system was awarded first place in the 2013 Toll Excellence Award for Technology by the International Bridge, Tunnel and Turnpike Association (IBTTA). It did not win a prize in the other three categories: customer service; operations; and social responsibility.
As the debate continues, more and more anger is being generated by rises in fuel levies, food prices and the general cost of living in the city. For many of Johannesburg’s citizens, the roadways provide the only reasonable means of travel to and from work.
There is no doubt the N1 is the envy of Africa, the question is will anyone pay for it? It is likely that they will have no choice.

Tag: July 2013

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