In March, I was assigned to the Four Nations Challenge, a basketball tournament at the Wembley Sports Arena, Johannesburg, South Africa. Winter had started early, so I wore my favorite Springbok rugby jacket. Back home, in the Eastern Cape, we wore scarves and jackets to rugby stadiums on rainy winter days. Rugby is in our blood. I passed my first rugby ball at the age of five.
At the Wembley Arena, I met Carey Odhiambo, the coach of Kenya’s basketball team. Odhiambo liked my green and gold jacket; he spoke of Springbok success and doing Africa proud. At the time, South Africa’s rugby team, the Springboks, were ranked second in the world , but are now fifth – an all-time low.
My acquaintance from East Africa, where rugby is still amateur, couldn’t care less about how many black and white players were in the team, until I raised the point. The Springboks are a far cry from representing the demographics of our population. But, Odhiambo didn’t mind, as long as the team was winning. Interestingly, Odhiambo’s basketball team was the antithesis of the Springboks: all his players were black. On the other hand, the Boks seem like a European team dotted with one or two African expatriates.
<div id="attachment_4128" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4128" class="size-medium wp-image-4128" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/GettyImages-473610208-300x239.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="239" />JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA &#8211; MAY 16: Elton Jantjies of the Lions converts a penalty during the Super Rugby match between Emirates Lions and Brumbies at Emirates Airline Park on May 16, 2015 in Johannesburg, South Africa. (Photo by Duif du Toit/Gallo Images/Getty Images)</div>
Odhiambo was unaware that millions of blacks, like me, reluctantly support the Springboks because of this. But we smoked a peace pipe and exchanged jackets. Would that happen with a white South African compatriot?
South Africa has suffered from 500 years of colonialism, and apartheid, where opportunities were governed by racial privilege. Because of this history, almost everything in South Africa is a racial issue.
Let’s touch on where the Nelson Mandela Rainbow Nation farce began. In 1995, a year after the country’s first democratic elections, South Africa hosted its first Rugby World Cup and won it. On the day of the final, blacks and whites were behind the Springboks, that was all white save for one player, Chester Williams. We won the World Cup and hoped that talent from the townships would be nurtured.
A year after the World Cup, a new and unapologetically racist coach, Andre Markgraaff, was appointed and went on to win eight and lose five test matches before resigning. Markgraaff was taped referring to black rugby officials as kaffirs, a gaffe he profusely apologized for. He did not select a single black player in his year as coach. In 1997, an inexperienced Carel du Plessis took over. Of his eight matches, Du Plessis won three. Not a single black player was involved in that mediocre record, resulting in Du Plessis getting the boot.
It took a third coach, Nick Mallet, to at least select six black players in three years. Mallet, who took the team to the World Cup in 1999, won 27 and lost 11; between 1997 and 2000. Between 2000 and 2003, little happened under Harry Viljoen and Rudolph Straeuli.
<div id="attachment_4126" style="width: 221px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4126" class="size-medium wp-image-4126" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_APP1999100536076-211x300.jpg" alt="" width="211" height="300" />South African centre Kaya Malotana runs with the ball during a training session at the Goldenacre rugby stadium in Edinburgh, 05 October 1999. (ELECTRONIC IMAGE)</div>
The Springboks won a second World Cup under Jake White in 2007. Under White, they won 36 of their 54 matches and 23 black players were selected in four years. The transformation work done by White, and his successor Peter de Villiers, who saw 21 black players earning Bok caps between 2008 and 2011, was commendable. Sadly, the incumbent Heyneke Meyer is undoing this.
Meyer has been the coach since 2012 and is in charge of the Springboks at the World Cup in England this year. It’s not guaranteed he will win, or even reach the quarterfinals, at the World Cup based on the recent lacklustre performances. In the five games leading up to the World Cup, Meyer lost to Argentina for the first time in the country’s history in August. The team’s world ranking is its lowest since 1996.
Meyer is spoilt for choice when it comes to talented black players. Yet he chose to overlook them and picked white players who are older than 30 instead.
A case in point is Jean de Villiers, the captain who has served the Springboks well since 2012. But, the 34-year-old center is laden with injuries and has lost his pace. Meyer’s patience with De Villiers cannot be justified on the grounds that there’s a dearth of capable centers. This is one in the eye for the 26-year-old utility back, Lionel Mapoe, from Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape, who had a brilliant Super Rugby tournament with the Golden Lions. Despite coming through the ranks, he has played only one test, against New Zealand, in July.
Elton Jantjies is another case. He has played twice for Springboks and was the best South African flyhalf in Super Rugby. His sin is being black. Meyer has shown no interest in picking him, instead favoring the white players, Pat Lambie and Handre Pollard. Statistically, Jantjies had a better Super Rugby than them.
The South African Rugby Union (Saru), the toothless governing body, and the sport ministry, has given Meyer so much carte blanche that he thinks he is doing the right thing.
<div id="attachment_4127" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4127" class="size-medium wp-image-4127" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_Par8238225-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />South African Springboks center Lionel Mapoe stands during the National anthem ahead of a Rugby Championship Rugby union match against New Zealand All Blacks on July 25, 2015 in Johannesburg. AFP PHOTO / MUJAHID SAFODIEN</div>
To rub salt into the wound, Saru has extended the deadline for transformation. Saru’s target for 2019 is for a 50% white, 30% black and 20% colored representation of Springboks and domestic Currie Cup teams.
Kaya Malotana, selected by Mallett in 1999, was the first black African Springbok. The 38-year-old director of coaching at Alberton Rugby Club, near Johannesburg, bemoans a lack of will. The Eastern Cape winger, from the small town of Lady Frere, earned one cap for the Springboks.
“The problem with doing things when under pressure is that you set unrealistic targets. Fifty percent black and colored representation is setting everybody up for failure because not enough players of color are being selected in Super Rugby. People will turn around and say, ‘these black players have compromised the quality of the Springbok team,’” says Malotana.
I want to demystify the notion that people who question transformation in South African rugby are not supporters. This is not true. During the World Cup, black people will put their differences aside and don their green and gold regalia and support the Springboks. Dee

Why I Support My Country With A Heavy Heart

At dusk on this warm evening, Phillip ‘The Time Bomb’ Ndou was ready to go off.  In a red gown with white flowing frills, he felt like a king. He danced his way to the ring with the chutzpah of a boxer at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. But this was Thohoyandou, in rural Limpopo, in South Africa, 500 kilometers north of Johannesburg and a million miles from the rest of the world. Through a cacophony of ululations and chants in Tshivenda, Ndou stepped into the ring for the first time in his hometown after a lifetime as a professional.
Boxing fans journeyed from Johannesburg for this fight that is in the heart of the Venda people. People from these parts are accustomed to a different type of boxing, called musangwe, hosted by the Venda king in Gaba Village, near Thohoyandou, every December. Musangwe is tough bare-knuckle boxing with no weigh-in restrictions. This is where Ndou landed his first punch as a young boy growing up in Golgotha Section, a few kilometers from Thohoyandou.
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“I have always wanted to fight at home but that never happened for almost 20 years. My manager and promoter, Promise [Moyo], made it possible for me to live my dream,”
says Ndou.
Moyo, a civil servant for 15 years, is now the director of Skylon Promotions that promotes Ndou and four other professional boxers.
“Here is the man with 40 fights but he never fought in front of his people as a professional. His mother, Margaret Nemukula, couldn’t believe it was really happening since there had been many speculations that Phillip is fighting at home but those ended up in disappointments,” says Moyo.
When it happened, it was worth it. The 38-year-old former South African WBA and international WBC junior lightweight champion sent the crowd into a frenzy, at Thohoyandou Town Hall, as he knocked down the Tanzanian slugger, Ramadhani Shauri, in the fourth round. Referee Grace Mahosi ended the eight-round bout when Ndou floored the 23-year-old Shauri for the second time, seconds later. All night, the visitor showed scant respect for Ndou. Against Ndou’s fervent supporters, Shauri had only his trainer Yassin Abaallaa and stablemate Lulu Kayage, a female fighter who won earlier against Lillian Mphahlele, for company.
On August 9, Women’s Day in South Africa to remember a march on parliament in 1956, Ndou’s win was a fitting celebration for his mother. She was in the crowd, with other women from their village. They dressed in colorful Venda traditional clothing to watch their son fighting at home for the first time.
It was a journey that led him in a wide circle. Ndou turned professional after boxing at the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games, where he lost to Somluck Kamsing of Thailand, who won gold.
Another world title-holder, Ledwaba was in his corner. Ledwaba lost his IBF bantamweight belt to Manny Pacquiao, who stood in as a last minute replacement.
“It was not an easy fight, Ramadhani can crack… I didn’t struggle, but I didn&#8217;t know him so I had to read him first. I know my people don&#8217;t want to see me standing on the ropes, but when I&#8217;m on the ropes I&#8217;m more dangerous. From here, I am challenging for the IBF title. I want to say thank you very much to mothers, to the fans, to my promoter,” says Ndou.
This was Ndou’s fifth win on the trot. He is the only African to have fought undefeated world champion Floyd Mayweather. He lost to Mayweather in 2003, at Grand Rapids in Michigan, in the United States. That night, Ndou was ill advised by his trainer Nick Durandt that Mayweather was a coward who would run if hit.
This has been a long comeback from a brain injury Ndou sustained in 2004. It was so bad that a doctor, and Durandt, advised him to stop boxing. In 2009, Ndou was back, knocking out a Frenchman Rachid Drilzane in France. He lost to his cousin, Lovemore Ndou, who is now based in Australia, a few months later in Johannesburg.
Back in Thohoyandou, Abaallaa says his boxer’s loss was down to a lucky punch. He commended Ndou’s experience in surviving Ramadhani’s barrage of punches.
“I would like a rematch because I believe Ndou used his experience to win, he was out-performed – he is not a good boxer that can make us fear him, there’s nothing left in him&#8230; you were all quiet from round one to the third. But the lucky punch in the fourth round changed the course of the fight,” says Abaallaa.
But Abaallaa’s wish is unlikely. Ndou has set his sights on the International Boxing Federation Continental African title against Kenyan James Onyango Omogo, in December. Omogo is three years younger than Ndou and has battled through 30 fights.
Ndou may have danced into the ring, but he took many head and body blows from the youthful Ramadhani that he couldn’t dodge, at times he looked his age and a bit slow.
It’s been 12 years and scores of grueling fights since Ndou and Mayweather traded blows in Michigan. They have one thing in common. They both think they have one fight left in their wobbly legs.
Theirs is a story of how cruel the fight game is. Mayweather cruises through life on his millions, Ndou scrapes by at Thohoyandou Town Hall for his next pay check. It’s hard to believe they were both up and coming princes who once shared the same ring.

The Hero  Who Danced With Mayweather And Death Returns Home

The relationship between an athlete and a coach can be complicated. It involves a personal bond but on a professional basis. Everything we’ve been told about mixing business and pleasure goes out the window. It requires responsibility from both sides and takes time to develop. Throughout my sporting career, I have had a close relationship with my coaches but there was a time when I regretted rushing into it.
I moved to Europe from the United States to join a new coach, one who I had only met on a few occasions. I was taken by the advice he offered me during a competition. I was already a successful swimmer and had the medals to show for it, but to remain successful, I needed something to change. So, when presented with his subsequent proposal and promise, I grabbed what I thought was an exciting opportunity.
Two weeks later, I realized I had not done my homework. The situation I had got myself into was not what I had expected. I was an elite athlete with three Olympic Games behind me, seven Olympic medals, multiple world records and my new coach was a junior level club coach with little international experience. I found it difficult to communicate with both him and his ego. Ego can be confused with confidence; it will stunt your growth because you fail to listen to others. This became a detriment to our partnership.
I tried making it work by following his program and quietly focusing on my individual desperation to succeed. It was too late and I started feeling what I had only ever seen others endure. For the first time, a lack of confidence had become my problem. As my confidence continued to cascade, so too did my passion in swimming. I was no longer swimming for the enjoyment of the sport; I was swimming because I thought I had nothing else. Perhaps change was not what I was after. The tipping point came during a competition when my coach’s temper burst into a dramatic fit of tantrums, in front of all the other athletes and coaches. My embarrassment and anger at him, and at myself for letting this happen, gave me the courage I needed to finally make the right decision.
Within a day, I had moved countries and flown back to my coaches in the United States. Now I knew what I wanted and I was anxious to get my confidence back. I had trained under Kim Brackin and David Marsh for a long time and we share a good relationship because they know me as a person, not just an athlete. This is essential for understanding what can affect an athlete outside of sport because of the impact it can have on training.
Their experience also matched the level of training and competition I required. This kind of platform enables us to balance expectations and hold each other accountable to our goals. I was no longer open to change but the necessity for it was confirmed when my coaches provided it for me. It came in the form of a team.
A team is not just a group of individuals with a common purpose. It is a group of passionate individuals with different strengths that help improve the weaknesses in each other to achieve a common goal. The team is made successful by good leadership. A good coach, like a good leader, is always learning, open to ideas and constantly searching for the most effective and efficient methods for improvement. This makes them willing to change, willing to evolve and, if properly communicated with the athlete, evolve together.
To successfully evolve together, the relationship between an athlete and a coach has seven elements: trust, experience, communication, accountability, passion, patience and time. For the magic to work, there is an eighth element that binds it all together – respect. It is vital that these components come from both the coach and the athlete and for that to happen both must earn each other’s respect.
The coach has to take the lead and, as the relationship progresses, a partnership will begin to emerge. A good coach not only prepares you for sport but they prepare you for life. They provide challenges that make for a better athlete and guidance in dealing with those challenges that make for a better person.

Behind Every Great Athlete  Is A Great Coach

Heavy construction in Africa is not for sissies. A myriad of risks have to be dealt with, but it all boils down to three objectives: on time; on budget and on specification.
The route to success is dependent on three more critical aspects for the contractor: good people, good equipment and positive cash flow.
Getting the ‘Three by Three’’ right in Africa’s remotest locations means getting to grips with the risks that can include gun toting taxmen; more of that later.
Take the people: it takes a special breed to leave family behind and spend one to two years away from home, living in basic conditions, working on hot, wet and humid sites where communication is scarce and disease lies in wait.
Many sites are manned by a multicultural workforce. Providing traditional foods, ethnic, cultural and religious harmony is essential, and it happens all over Africa every day.
It’s the mosquitoes that get our people though – much of Africa is stricken by malaria and the good people we send to sites sometimes come home sick. It never really leaves your body and repeat infections are common. No amount of spraying work sites, medication, nets, creams, counseling and behavioral discipline guarantees immunity. In addition, if you are HIV positive, malaria is a death sentence – we voluntarily screened our workforce for HIV. The counseling was the tough part. Medical evacuation in severe malaria cases, and for other life threatening ailments, is a critical service that gives peace of mind to families back home. It’s the people that make for successful projects – mind the mozzies!
That said, construction leaders in Africa are a special breed and relish the exotic destinations they call home for a year or two. They love the freedom to operate, the responsibility they have and the life-changing challenges they experience daily.
Border posts are also a problem. Getting equipment across Africa is tough. No amount of planning and preparation is enough; you have to have the right paperwork and physically shepherd heavy plant equipment through Africa.
In my years in African infrastructure, getting plants to site and getting it home again without losing time, or being asked to pay exorbitant unofficial border duties, was rare. Ports can also simply let goods lie for weeks or even months, which piles stress onto projects.
Transport routes become toll roads as communities set up roadblocks and press for toll fees to allow heavy equipment to pass. Building a power line in Nigeria – a nightmare as the line passed through many communities, each of whom was promised work by the elders – meaning we had to divvy it all up and employ a military guard for each pylon to prevent sabotage.
We even hired nearby mobile police or ‘Mopol’ to ensure people and equipment got to the sites.
It’s a tricky situation which forces you to manage this risk; avoid compromising good governance, yet keeping the project moving.
Avoid all of the above and the taxman can still get you on cash flow and margin. Onerous tax regimes are fueled by hungry economies, fiefdoms masquerading as tax collection centers, corruption and western aid. Efficient tax collection systems are developed to lessen their future aid burden – a costly recipe for great creativity and duress.
No amount of technical competence, good governance, good people and good equipment on site can prevent the unexpected!
In the early years, in one large country struggling to emerge from its war-torn past, where we constructed many successful projects, the tax base was the primary source of regional government income. The published national tax code was the easy part – it’s the governor or taxman who you had to be wary of! The tax assessors would arrive in military trucks, with AK47s, to encourage payment of some creative assessments of the PAYE and company tax. Needless to say, we learned how to deal with this, never paid under duress, but tax clearance can run for years after the jobs were built and that’s an unexpected cost to the company.
Building in Africa? Sounds easy? If you are looking for rewarding challenges, seeing the world, excitement, personal growth and building something permanent –
try it!

Beware Of Taxmen Carrying AK47s

I wrote an article for a business news website several months ago about South Africa’s need to develop industrialists. The need is simply unavoidable: we incessantly hear about the country’s high unemployment rate in the media. Much is stated yet little is done.
A reader commented on the article, making a rather brash statement, which he is entitled to. He was of the opinion that I was naive for stating that we need to produce A-grade industrialists, instead highlighting the fact that our government should rather focus on mitigating the capital outflows South Africa has experienced in recent times. Perhaps our stringent labor laws are to blame or maybe our sluggish economy has precipitated these outflows. I agree in part; ultimately my point, and the real issue, is that not enough great ideas are being cultivated. There are various reasons such as entrepreneurs continuing to find it difficult to access funding, and our high skills deficiency relative to other industrialized economies.
The tenuous relationship between the private and public sectors cannot be over-emphasized. This issue is constantly debated in the media, illustrated by differing ideologies that the public and private sectors have pertaining to the economy: what should be done and how it should be done. Unfortunately for the greater masses, and more importantly the economic welfare of our country, their issues remain unresolved. The situation with our capitulating mining industry is a perfect illustration of the tipping point that has been reached as far as relations between the state and business are concerned. It comes as no surprise that the sector has cut thousands of jobs and this trend is likely to continue in other sectors.
According to recent data from the Department of Trade and Industry, South Africa’s gross domestic fixed investment to GDP hovers around 20%, well below the fastest growing nations. We can no longer justify our lack of saving as a nation on the fact that we have a growing fiscal budget, placing greater pressure on our budget deficit. There are several countries that face similar challenges, and are considered developing countries by the World Bank, that have significantly higher national savings as a proportion of the national income. The Asian Tigers – Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan and South Korea – owe some of the successes of their economic revolutions to substantially higher national savings, which enabled them in part to finance the industrialization of their economies through private investment rather than relying on foreign investment.
This brings me to my next point: South Africa needs to create world-class industrialists now and at a rapid pace. The ‘industrialist’ term has been misused by being prefixed by ‘black’ in recent government economic policy documents. The term has been used to describe what appears to be Black Economic Empowerment benefactors who will be moulded into billionaires. The ruling African National Progress (ANC) party has stated several times its need to create black billionaires. Few would disagree that the emergence of wealthy blacks, including all previously disadvantaged race groups, is necessary in the transformation struggle. The issue is not as much whether the emergence of black billionaires is wrong, but rather the manner in which the government plans to go about it.
The prioritization of creating employment opportunities remains pivotal in curbing the dependency of South Africans on state welfare and ultimately building a society in which the economic benefits of the country benefit everyone. For now, the prospect of higher employment amid the slowing economic growth is inconceivable. Great ideas need to be cultivated. Ultimately it was great ideas that birthed many of the largest corporations the world has ever seen and immortalized industrialists such as Andrew Carnegie and Cornelius Vanderbilt that transformed the concept of entrepreneurship.
The alternative of creating an elitist ‘black’ faction of billionaires through state procurement processes, better known as tenderpreneurship, will not only breed discontentment among the poor black majority, but will be a clear sign that the ANC has never, at its core, been a truly leftist party but is mutating  into a right-wing movement.

More Entrepreneurs, Less Tenderpreneurs

Kenya’s nascent mutual fund industry is becoming an important component in the country’s financial landscape. With increasing international focus on frontier economies, the country is slowly emerging as an investment destination for foreign investment funds seeking exposure in East Africa.
Moreover, the emergence of a thriving middle class is also creating capital flows for local asset managers. The industry, which is regulated by the Capital Markets Authority (CMA), now commands $430 million in assets under management, having grown at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 21.2% since 2010, according to PricewaterhouseCoopers’ (PwC) Africa Asset Management 2020 report.
For a long time, growth in Kenya’s mutual fund industry was subdued due to an underdeveloped capital market. Until 2006, equity transactions were still being done through the floor-based open outcry system, share certificates still served as proof of ownership, trading hours were limited to two hours, trade settlements took four days and less than 50 entities were listed at the Nairobi Securities Exchange (NSE). As a consequence, by the close of 2005, only five investment funds operated and total market capitalization accounted for less than a third of its gross domestic product (GDP). This state of affairs seriously hampered Kenya’s capital markets as an important investment destination.
However, since 2006, all this changed drastically with the number of listed companies increasing to 63 and the total market capitalization rising to nearly 41% of GDP by the end of last year. Between 2006 and 2014, equity turnover doubled to $2.15 billion, Kenya managed to successfully issue its first sovereign bond which raised a total of $2 billion, the number of operating investment funds grew to 71 and the NSE received approval to demutualize and self list on the exchange. In April, the top foreign investment funds investing in Kenya had at least 25% of their funds allocated in the country, according to PwC research.
Despite this growth, the fund industry has a long way to go as it still accounts for an extremely small share of GDP at 0.7% and 0.8% of total financial sector assets. Among other reasons, a poor savings culture in the country has been blamed for the small size of the industry. The World Bank puts Kenya’s saving rate at around 12 to 13% of GDP which is half the average for all low-income countries (at 26% of GDP) and slightly lower than Africa’s rate which stands at around 17%. Furthermore, with wealth distribution highly unequal, the fund market has relied almost entirely on institutional investors. The young industry also has to deal with rising competition from other alternative investment vehicles such as the real estate sector and private equity.
Nonetheless, a combination of certain fundamental factors are likely to drive the mutual fund industry’s speedy growth in the coming years. These factors are stable economic growth, strong market performance, widespread adoption of mobile technology which makes delivery of new products cheaper, introduction of new asset classes, cross listings, loosening of regulations, political stability, investor education and the emergence of the middle class. The latter, which now stands at 44.9% of Kenya’s total population, is projected to grow at an average of 5% every year. The expansion of this group will be instrumental in driving demand for mutual fund products such as equity and fixed-income funds.
In addition, government’s agenda to grow the financial sector as stated through the Vision 2030 development program will also boost the mutual fund industry. Through the recently launched Kenya Diaspora Policy, funds can expect to tap into the ever increasing diaspora remittances. Since the CMA has been keen to market Kenya’s financial markets through diaspora conferences, mutual funds can expect to be a major beneficiary. According to the CMA, remittances inflows have risen from $408 million in 2006 to $1.43 billion in 2014, or the equivalent of a CAGR of 15%. Average monthly remittances now stand at over $100 million. Kenya’s government estimates that 15% of the remittances are used in productive investments.
The future is indeed bright and there is little doubt that Kenya’s mutual fund industry will grow to become a strong player within the finance sector and the economy at large.

Growing In Leaps  And Bounds

It made a thundering entry in 2010, turning heads with those iconic gullwing doors and wheel-spinning performances without the hint of a turbo.
I loved its raw, rumbling power and obnoxious presence. I smiled modestly when crowds gathered at shopping centers – only to find out that they really wanted to see the gullwing doors in full flight.
And then they giggled rudely as I extricated my two-meter frame from the low-slung cockpit.
The SLS, in various guises from Blackbird, to Roadster to the Final Edition last year, sold well and still seemed to have many more years before its sell-by date.
But she has gone. So goodbye SLS and hello AMG GT.
But here’s the good news. AMG have developed their second in-house sports car, with matching performance and more refined driving and racing features, which will leave you with about $75,000 in your back pocket.
The difference is that you won’t be driving a so-called supercar, which comes as a huge relief because it is the most difficult word to define.
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So a Nissan GT-R, with the performance to embarrass virtually all the Italian hotties, is a mere sports car while it seems anything with a price tag of $250,000 or more is a supercar?
The two-seater AMG GT, kicking off at a shade over $120,000, puts you squarely in the classic sports car fold where the Porsche 911, the Jaguar F-Type R, the Audi R8 V10 and the daring BMW i8 are just some of the rivals in hot pursuit.
And thank goodness the AMG GT doesn’t feature those fly-through doors – after all, that look goes back to the 1950s. And they’re bad for your back!
It is being labeled as the 911 fighter and it could give you a headache trying to decide between the two. That’s if having a couple of back seats isn’t a major consideration.
While most sports car manufacturers have busied themselves with making their steeds look more menacing with toothy bear grilles, the Porsche people have focused on classy, flowing lines. This is not a physique that lays down the gauntlet at the lights.
The Merc does have a more macho look with sculpted and slanted LED high performance headlights nestling next to the three-dimensional “diamond” radiator grille and above the daunting Airbus A380-like air intakes.
Head of Design, Gordon Wagener, calls it a “setting in which the driver can experience the consummate combination of beauty and intelligence.”
The design ethic extends to the interior with the cockpit and controls being compared to a fighter jet – albeit a lot more sophisticated and comfortable!
As you pour yourself into the hip-hugging driver’s seat, you are embraced by the high wing-like center console and fairly close windscreen which make you feel like an integral part of the GT’s DNA.
The controls are conveniently spaced on the inclined V-shaped center panel and it’s a huge relief that Merc didn’t opt for the gear lever on the steering wheel. So wrong for a performance car!
I couldn’t understand why some scribes complain that the gear lever it is set too far back on the center panel… then I remembered that my seat is virtually pinned to the boot! So perfectly designed for me – if not for my wallet!
But it’s under the protracted bonnet that the real difference between the SLS and the GT is discovered.
Out goes the naturally aspirated 6.2-liter V8 and in comes the new 4.0-liter bi-turbo produced under the “one man, one engine” principle.  In sheer calculation, it’s not quite such a powerful brute, but test it on the track and you are left in no doubt that the GT is ferociously fast and the handling is much more precise.
With a dab of your right foot you are rewarded with a kick in the back akin to lighting the boosters of a Lightning fighter jet. The GT will hurtle you to the ton in four seconds and the S shaves off an extra two-tenths of a second.
I hope you don’t test the top speed of 304 km/h along Sandton Drive. You have to keep a beady eye on the speedo with this Merc as it tends to gallop when you think it is at a canter – and the traffic cops don’t see this as a valid excuse…
What is a sports car without an aural accompaniment and the throaty roar, which makes Metallica sound effeminate, certainly hasn’t been lost in AMG’s second production.
Turbochargers don’t always improve the exhaust notes, but some careful tuning and variable exhaust flaps (activated at the flick of a switch) make sure that you keep the neighbors awake – and green with envy.
But the GT is also quite happy to quietly poodle along to the golf course on a Sunday morning. And, believe it or not, two sets of clubs can fit in the hatch-like boot.
What is in short supply is visibility. So if times are tight, scratch the Burmester high-end surround sound system at $5,500 off the extras list and get the reversing camera at a mere $400.
The Merc AMG GT is going to demand attention wherever you go and hitting a trolley at the shopping center is going to spoil the show.
The GT is just the start. A Roadster is on the drawing board, possibly a GT3, and expect more exciting variants to boost the division towards a target of 70,000 performance cars by 2017.
But the classic sports car niche is also competitive.
Jaguar has left behind any remnant of its conservative, regal image with the F-Type R V8, which has jaw-dropping looks and also blurs to 100 in around four seconds. It is in the performance and price range of the AMG GT.
And that’s where the Audi R8 V10 is just on the fringe of the classic pack. Audi has launched a new offering which is futuristic, angular and very Star Wars, which we will only see later this year. While the all-wheel drive car is bound to be swift (3.5 seconds or less) it will probably also push the classic sports car budget at a price of around $190,000.
So many decisions… so little time. And to present you with even more of a dilemma there is the BMW i8 gliding quietly onto the starting line.
It is the bravest production from BMW for many years with a galactically molded shell made from carbon fiber reinforced plastic. And the interior is just as evolutionary and exotic. You are given the alternative of going green or putting your right foot down and engaging all the horses – much to Al Gore’s disgust!
So there you have it. Spoiled for choice and what an enviable decision to make.
My virtual money is on the AMG GT. I was in love with the SLS and the GT comes in at an extremely combative price. All that was good about the SLS is enhanced and refined. What was questionable, like those gullwing doors, is siphoned off.
Maybe that’s why it is the World Performance Car of 2015.

Beauty And Intelligence  With A Kick

Two years ago, Uber was unheard of. Today it’s a buzzword. You could argue that Rudolf Makopole Malaka has been on the same fast track. From humble township beginnings to a property on an estate; with three Uber cars and three companies – he owes it all to the mobile app.
Uber gives drivers the opportunity to be the CEO of their own company – they own their own cars and set their hours. Connecting riders with drivers through a smartphone app, users submit a trip request, which is then routed to Uber drivers. Since 2013, the online ride-hailing service has taken off in South Africa.
“People lack jobs. We decided to join Uber – not just to make money but to create job opportunities for our fellow brothers who don’t have jobs because we know how hard it is not to have a job. We’ve been there,” he says.
“I spent weeks eating only Weet-Bix. You go to school on an empty stomach, you walk long distances. I don’t want my kids to go through that, I don’t want kids from the location to go through that,” he says.
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After getting his degree in IT, he was unemployed and disheartened.
“I’ve been jobless and I’m a qualified auditor and qualified in IT. You go to school, you get the qualification but you don’t get the job. You wait, you go to interviews, they say they’ll call you but they don’t call you. You can’t just sit around and wait,” he says.
He brainstormed new opportunities. He started his first company in property development which grew into construction and image consulting – styling people, homes and their businesses. Riding on the momentum of his success, he started an IT company and became an Uber partner. A far cry from scouring through the classifieds and being rejected at interviews, he now makes about R150,000 (around $11,000) a month. With a fleet of three cars and looking to expand to 15 by next year, business is booming.
“Uber is a platform to make a change. We will have five cars by the end of the month. That’s five families we’re feeding. We’re making a change,” he says.
It should be so simple but Uber has faced its fair share of challenges. In June, cab drivers in Paris locked down the city in protest; operations were banned in Germany after a court ruled that Uber violated transport laws; in South Korea employees linked to the company were charged with running an illegal taxi firm; and in South Africa, metered-taxis are demanding a clampdown on the new kid on the block. They claim it’s operating illegally, flouting regulations and putting passengers at risk.
“A meter taxi attacked me. I was protecting the client. I said ‘you can smash my car, you can do whatever you do, but not to my client’. He was trying to pull my client. The problem is that they don’t understand competition. They say they’re taking our customers but what about other public transport? It’s a client preference to use us. We don’t scout for clients, we’re requested.”
Malaka sets himself apart from the rest by putting his drivers through his image consulting business. Putting professionalism at the fore, his drivers are dressed to impress, paying attention to every detail from the cut of the suit to the color of the tie; the radio station and temperature are adjusted for the customer; and a charger and auxiliary cable are always made available. His drivers go through training every month to ensure that their Uber ratings stay high.
“We want to empower them – they work for us for only two years. We want our Uber drivers to buy their own cars. We give them advice, we make sure that they know how to save. Then we hire other people. It’s a chain – we’re empowering you, we want you to empower someone else.”
“I moved up. I go back to where I came from because I know I left people there who helped me to get where I am. You can’t forget where you come from. I employ people from the townships because I know the struggles,” he says.
He’s driven and he’s making it, one Uber ride at a time.

From Down  On His Luck  To Uber Bucks

Vusi Thembekwayo loves to talk. He says he will do for talking what Muhammad Ali did for boxing. Ali told the world he was “The greatest”. So does Thembekwayo.
To him, great public speakers, like boxers, are not trained, they are born. His wit is the glue that binds his diverse audiences. John Howard, former Prime Minister of Australia called him the “rock star of public speaking”; global strategist and scenario-planning guru Clem Sunter said he was “simply riveting”; Sir Bob Geldof said “Vusi is a f*cken great speaker,” according to Thembekwayo.
Thembekwayo has always been an overachiever. At 21, he ran a successful consulting firm, then South Africa’s only black-owned Forensic Marketing agency. At 25, he was the youngest director of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange, a bourse turning over $1.3 billion a year. At 29, he delivered 214 presentations, in 21 countries charging up to $8,000 a time. At 30, he influences over $300 million in seven companies he holds shares in. His companies operate in Kenya, Uganda, South Africa and Nigeria.
As a child, Thembekwayo studied by candlelight and used to wake up before dawn to prepare for school. His father had started a business with their house as collateral.
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“The bank was about to repossess our house so my mother and my siblings had to move in with relatives. We stayed in a small backroom and had to wake up very early, make fire and make porridge to eat,” he says.
“One minute we had a home and were being dropped off at school in our father’s car and the next we were suffering commuting kilometers in taxis to school. That experience shapes how I look at the world and my understanding of risk. I understand that whatever it is you have, tomorrow it could be all gone.”
His father resolved the debt situation but couldn’t escape tragedy. Thieves shot him nine times leaving him to bleed to death at the side.
“This was a very difficult time in my life. My dad and I were best friends. We did everything together and went everywhere together. The only reason I wasn’t with him that day is because my mum was ill and I stayed with her at home when my dad was shot for his cell phone.”
At this moment, a tear forms in Thembekwayo’s eye. “South Africa has a violent past and that narrative continues to find expression in modern South Africa, we condone violence because we find reason to defend why it’s ok to do it and we have a justice system that isn’t sufficiently punitive for people who perpetrate the act. We need to come together as a society to say no matter the reason it is not ok to take a life.”
Left with a single mother, at the age of 15, his big mouth got him into trouble long before it became his fortune. He was forced to take up public speaking as punishment for misbehavior in high school. He was booed off the stage for what everyone thought was a male chauvinistic speech titled: What Women Want.
“The best way to get me to do something is telling me I can’t do it. When they booed me off stage I started working harder to get to where I am,” he says.
Thembekwayo studied for a BCom degree at the University of the Witwatersrand but dropped out because of money. He believes entrepreneurship is practice more than theory.
“Some of the people who get the education are the people who will not move the dial in any meaningful way. The education system in South Africa is and continues to be archaic. I also did a course at the Gordon Institute of Business Science (GIBS) which was supposed to be a year but took me three years because they didn’t understand how I think. South African business schools are behind on how you educate a Vusi.”
“You don’t need too many things to start a business. Start where you are. South African young people are really challenged. They have access to DSTV and they see the world in a particular way but the reality doesn’t reflect the world they see. You must recognize what’s around you and build with what you have. If you have a vision for the future, it is important to know nobody starts where they end up.”
This is not just advice for him. It is exactly how he started building his fortune after receiving a standing ovation for a speech for which he was paid a mere R35 (less than $3).
“Former president Thabo Mbeki was the keynote speaker at the event and he gave me a hug and endorsed me at that event telling people to give me more work,” he says.
He used the R35 to make phone calls to all the people he met at that event. He says entrepreneurship is starting something that other people don’t see and getting them to see it, believe in it, buy in it and help you build it.
Even when he became a well-known figure, life has not always been milk and honey. When he decided to start his company, My Growth Fund (MGF), it ushered in six of his worst months as an entrepreneur.
Thembekwayo failed to acquire funding for the company. When he had money, in the 2011-2012 financial year, he invested $274,000 in a steel company. Excited, he neglected to do proper due diligence. The investment went into a black hole. There were neither contracts nor legal documents to save him.
“I wasn’t thorough. I didn’t check if the company I was buying into had legacy liability or legacy issues. I was over eager. The entrepreneur convinced me that everything was going to go well, only to find out my money was used to pay off her debts. She had creditors and suppliers who she owed and she did not disclose this to me. She also had the South African Revenue Services coming after her.”
Part of this $274,000 was supposed to pay his own staff.
“I didn’t know what to do. All that I had was gone. What was I going to tell my staff? They also had their own lives and bills. But this situation taught me that if you are honest with people they understand. I told my staff the truth about what had happened and they worked hard, booked me for more speaking jobs and I was able to pay them,” he says.
“I learned an important lesson to take my time. Where you are going is guaranteed. There is no doubt, so don’t rush, follow the process.”
Thembekwayo started over.
“No matter how much you trust the other person when doing an investment, make sure the numbers support it, make sure you cover your basics, and the legal side holds water,” he says.
Today if he buys into a business he moves all the capital and operating capital into a separate business to make sure there is no history to infect the investment.  Public speaking is one of the ways he makes money as an entrepreneur.
“Vusi is a very funny guy when he gives his talks. He is always well informed on the subjects he talks about such as business and investment opportunities. I always watch his YouTube videos and follow his advice,” says Thato Mokoena, a South African small business entrepreneur.
Thembekwayo studied by candlelight, his father was brutally killed, business schools didn’t understand him, he was booed off stage, he lost millions, but survived to tell the tale from the stage where he was once scorned.

He survived failure, tragedy and lost millions

Angry families and politicians are stepping up a nearly 30-year fight to bring back the head of a grandmother executed 117 years ago for standing up against colonialism. It is believed her head lies in one of Britain’s famous museums.
In 1898, Nehanda Charwe Nyakasikana, or Mbuya Nehanda as she was known, was a powerful spirit medium, a person who speaks to the gods, and heroine of the First Chimurenga, the revolt against the British South Africa Company in Matabeleland. She led the uprising by Zimbabweans against colonizers and was hanged and decapitated. It’s believed her head was shipped more than 12,000 kilometers to England.
“We cannot have other people keep the remains of our ancestors in a cardboard box elsewhere,” says Godfrey Mahachi, Director of the National Museums and Monuments of Zimbabwe.
Nehanda was not the only one. Her skull could be at the National History Museum in South Kensington, London, with the remains of the other executed leaders, Sekuru Kaguvi, Chingaira Makoni, Chinengundu Mashayamombe, Mapondera, Mashonganyika and Chitekedza Chiwashira.
“There are implications to do with how we treat the deceased; these implications have a bearing on the past, present and future,” says Mahachi.
Sixty-three-year-old Donald Kamba is a direct descendant of Chief Chingaira and an estate agent from Rusape, in eastern Zimbabwe. He says this is where the headless body of his ancestor is buried.
&#8220;Ever since Chingaira&#8217;s head disappeared, every subsequent Makoni chief, irrespective of their house, went blind,” says Kamba.
“The British have been called upon on a number of occasions over the last three decades or more for the return of the remains of Chingaira in particular. The party went to Britain in 1988 and they were advised that there were no such remains of Chingaira and that they were to try South Africa,” says Kamba.
Zimbabwe’s Minister of Higher and Tertiary Education, Jonathan Moyo, stirred emotions on Twitter.
“How can we focus on the economy when the skulls of Mbuya Nehanda and Sekuru Kaguvi are displayed in a British museum? These barbarians have been displaying the skulls of our First Chimurenga heroes and heroines in their libraries!” says Moyo.
On Heroes Day in August, President Robert Mugabe claimed the British were performing “racist moral decadence, sadism and human insensitivity” in keeping the skulls as trophies.
“The formalities are being handled by the foreign affairs ministry in collaboration with the British government. It has always been our wish to have those remains back home but we have to proceed in this process with much caution,” says Mahachi.
“Proper identification and research needs to be conducted so as to ensure that whatever we bring back to Zimbabwe is ours.”
The British museum denies having displayed any of the remains. It says it is not clear if any of the remains are from the First Chimurenga and implied that repatriation could be a long process.
The descendants of Nehanda and her comrades hope it won’t take another 117 years.

Over A Century Later, Mbuya Nehanda Could Return Home

It was a sunny southern hemisphere spring day in October 1931 when businessman Max Sonnenberg and his son, Richard, opened the doors of a small shop in Cape Town&#8217;s city center. Allegedly housed in the dining room of the old Royal Hotel on Plein Street, within spitting distance from parliament&#8217;s back entrance, the store promised to bring value and affordability to South Africa&#8217;s white middle class.
Timing was far from ideal. The Wall Street Crash two years before had submerged the world in a frothing whirlpool of economic turmoil. South Africa too, was affected. Despite hardship dominated by poor economic growth, tumbling exports, and mass retrenchments, the store was a success. It did so well that it captured the entrepreneurial imagination of serial businessman Elie Susman who had made his fortune from cattle, banking, and retail.
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Having a genuine eye for business opportunities, Susman was taken aback by the success he saw, prompting him to financially back the opening of a second store in Durban. More branches followed suit and soon Woolworths was deeply embedded in South Africans’ day-to-day shopping lexicon.
Since the 1930s, Woolworths has morphed into a multi-billion-dollar holding company, comprising the familiar Woolworths food and clothing brand, as well as Australian brands Country Road and David Jones. The latter, a denim retailer, was bought last year for $2 billion. The acquisition proved to be a massive boost for Woolworths Holdings Limited (WHL), which saw its profit over the first six months to December 28, 2014, jump by 29%. Sales increased by 55%, to $2.56 billion. Without the David Jones business, sales would have grown by only 12.5%.
The David Jones acquisition also led to an expansion of WHL’s footprint, to 1,200 stores in 15 countries worldwide, including Australia. The 633 Woolies branches in 12 African nations, including Botswana, Namibia, and Kenya, however remain the company’s backbone. This number is likely to increase.
“We want to grow our footprint by some 10% per annum for the next three or four years,” says Group CEO, Ian Moir, adding that a lot of attention will go to the food side of the business. “Our food footprint has more than doubled since 2010.”
While WHL has been doing well, things have not always looked bright. The retailer was badly affected by the economic crisis of 2008/2009, which sank South Africa into its first recession in 17 years. Moir says the attitude of the company, which only comprised food and clothing at the time, towards its customers, was one of the culprits.
“We had become complacent, arrogant, and too expensive, and we were not listening to our customers. As a result, our sales plummeted during the recession,” he says.
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The downturn forced Woolworths to rethink its strategy.
“Someone once said that one should never let the benefits of a good recession pass by,” says Moir. “The Woolworths of today sees the customer as king, not the product. That is the big difference. If the customer thinks we are wrong, then we are wrong. If the customer thinks our prices are too high, then the prices are too high. That has been the biggest transformation since the recession.”
Complaints are taken seriously, says Moir.
“We used to be known as arrogant and not wanting to listen. Today, we reply to all complaints, queries, and criticism through our customer communications and social media teams. I even get some of them.”
The Woolworths approach has been well received in South Africa, as well as in other African countries such as Botswana and Namibia. Here the brand is still growing substantially. In some countries however, Woolworths didn’t manage to get off the ground. Nigeria is one of them. Last year the company decided to pull out of Africa’s largest economy for the second time.
“We were losing money hand over fist. Nigeria is a very difficult market for any apparel retailer to make money in. Firstly, the Nigerian retail market is largely informal, with very few shopping malls. The rental of the shopping malls that do exist, is very high,” says Moir.
“Doing business is very difficult, generally speaking, from traveling around to getting goods in the country,” he says, adding that Woolworths uses the same suppliers regardless of the location.
“We made a mistake by going into Nigeria, despite having the right partner,” Moir confesses. “It was the second time we tried it, and we won’t be trying it for a third time. Nigeria just doesn&#8217;t work for us.”
Moir doesn’t see Woolworths’ Nigeria adventure as wasted time. Making mistakes, he says, makes you grow.
“You, as a business, can always get better, and you will always make mistakes and there are always things to learn. My biggest fear is complacency in a business. If you think you won’t make mistakes, then you will fail.”
In other countries, business is going well. Moir says this is a result of the way Woolworths treats its employees.
“Our salaries are competitive and our benefits are better than elsewhere.”
Based on feedback from employees, the jobs portal, Indeed.co.za, gives Woolworths four out of five stars as an employer with staff discounts and incentives lauded. It, however, says salaries are too low and work hours too long.
The brand’s strength, according to Moir, is associated with value, principles, integrity, and sustainability.
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The company donates $79,000 to educational causes every week. Moir also says the company is committed to environmental sustainability, such as minimizing water consumption and reducing the use of genetically modified organisms (GMOs).
Despite its good intentions, Woolworths has faced the wrath of environmental activists more than once, and for a multitude of issues, including the treatment of pigs, the use of GMOs and claims the company’s free-range milk was not free-range at all.
“That type of activism is good for us as it forces us to do the right thing,” says Moir.
“That is why we, apart from selling free-range eggs, want to ensure that free-range eggs are used in all Woolworths branded products, down to the cake mix. This was a tough process. You are, after all, dealing with large suppliers of which you are not the only customer. As a result, you can’t do things as fast as activists would want you to. It takes years sometimes.”
Environmental activist, Caroline Hurry, however, claims the company won’t speak to her.
“They refused to answer any of my questions in writing. In the beginning, when I started investigating their practices in relation to animal cruelty, they suggested I call them for ‘a little chat’. But being a journalist, I insist on answers in writing. I have also found that the soy in their bread had the second-highest GMO content in the country&#8230; Woolworths doesn’t label all their GM food. At best, the label says ‘may contain GMO’. I have now been blocked on Twitter, by the very account that told us to ask questions,” says Hurry.
While he has sympathy for environmental activists, Moir is no fan of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) campaign, which calls for the active isolation of Israel and for the country to end its occupation of Palestine. In South Africa, BDS has its teeth firmly sunk into Woolworths. Their objective is to force the retailer to stop selling Israeli products – 0.4% of its total offer.
“These protests were very unpleasant for our staff and customers, with pig heads being left on our shelves and people charging through stores, knocking over our goods, destroying them even. We have had protestors lying on the floor, pouring blood over themselves. A court order has stopped this.”
Despite the court order, the protesters claim their actions were costly for the retailer.
“The campaign is successful and growing. An independent report, released by Wits University, states that WHL has lost close to $3 million, since the start of the #BoycottWoolworths campaign in August last year. A survey among 300 people has shown that 84% of respondents said they stopped shopping at Woolworths shortly after we called for boycott,” says BDS coordinator, Muhammed Desai.
Despite a few setbacks, Woolworths has grown from a small store in Cape Town to an international retailer – a story of shopping bags
to riches.

How David Became A Goliath

Africa is the last true wild frontier in the world; its wildlife racks up more than $30 billion annually.
But, in countries such as Zimbabwe, less money is reaching the government and animal extinction is becoming a reality.
The ruthless killing of Cecil the Lion in Zimbabwe sent shockwaves around the world. It raises the question of whether Africa is getting a raw deal for its wildlife.
In 2012, the tourism sector contributed 10% to Zimbabwe’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and the projection was that by this year it should have reached 15%. Statistics for this year are only available in 2016 but there has been a surge in tourists, particularly from the United States.
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Some American tourists, though, have been caught on the wrong side of the law by participating in unsanctioned lion hunts.
Johnny Rodrigues, a wildlife conservationist, believes the biggest problem standing in the way of animal conservation in Zimbabwe is corruption.
“In the case of Cecil, an American tourist bribed guides for $55,000 to kill a lion that was at the center of major international research. There are many such cases that go unreported,” he says.
In the past 20 years, the lion population in Africa has been depleted by 30%. As of 2014, it is estimated that there are only 30,000 left on the continent.
Zimbabwe has a population of around 1,600 lions, most of which are kept in protected areas away from hunters. Between 1999 and 2009, it was recorded that 800 lions were killed in legal hunts but it is understood that many more were killed in illegal hunts.
Lions, rhino, elephant, giraffe and buffalo are the most popular targets for hunters, but some lesser known animals are also caught up in the illicit trade.
Langton Masunda, a tour operator in Zimbabwe, says poachers and illegal hunters are more equipped and better funded than government rangers. This gives them an obvious advantage over those trying to save the country’s wild animals.
“They have more sophisticated weaponry, are usually better trained and they have communication equipment that the government does not have,” says Masunda.
Not so long ago, more effort was put into protecting the rhinoceros, but poachers shifted their focus to elephants. Zimbabwe has an elephant population of 85,000, with around 30,000 of those being calves. Because of the demand in the Asian market, poachers targeted the elephant at an industrial scale.
“Water sources were contaminated with cyanide. Hundreds would drop dead and in the process other animals, which the poachers had no use for, died too. Even people in rural communities surviving on the same water sources were affected. What makes it bad is that in many cases locals in poverty stricken communities would assist poachers,” says Masunda.
Although they have a harsh penal system for poaching, countries such as South Africa are havens for illegal hunts.
“Each year, more than 20,000 elephants – possibly up to 35,000 – are killed by poachers for their tusks, which are shipped to ivory markets, predominantly in countries such as China and Thailand. In 2014, 1,215 rhinos were killed in South Africa alone, which, when compared with the 13 killed by poachers in 2007, represents a more than 9,000 percent increase in rhino poaching,” says a World Economic Forum report.
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The spiraling poaching figures are driven by the Asian market. In countries such as China and Vietnam, it is believed the rhino horn has medicinal properties that can cure everything from headaches to cancer. Elephant tusks are crushed into a powder and used to make aphrodisiacs, among other things.
The development of rural communities is also a factor that opens trade links with the rest of the world. It makes smuggling easier.
But, in Southern Africa, there is hope that some of the targeted animals can be saved, especially at the Kavango Zambezi Transfrontier Conservation Area (KAZA) that brings together Zambia, Namibia, Zimbabwe, Angola and Botswana.
KAZA is the world’s largest wildlife park, slightly bigger than Italy.
In 2014, on the Botswana side of the park, President Ian Khama banned hunting to preserve the animals. As an alternative, the country is investing in luxurious camps. Last year alone, it was estimated that tourism brought in $337.5 million. A few greedy tourists with rifles should not be allowed to decimate this important source of income.

The Bullets Killing More Than Animals

Simon Mann, probably the 21st century’s most famous mercenary, is a small, neat man who looks nothing like he is supposed to.
The former special forces soldier, who did six tours in Northern Ireland with the British SAS and waged war for profit in Angola and Sierra Leone, shouldn’t look like a senior banker or bureaucrat.
And the man, whose mercenary career came to a crashing end when he was arrested in Harare in 2004 for his role in a planned coup in Equatorial Guinea, should not be wearing a turquoise Apple Watch (with matching earphones) in addition to his normal, more traditional, timepiece.
<div id="attachment_4078" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4078" class="size-medium wp-image-4078" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_PAR2004032336856-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />Simon Mann (L) the leader of the group of seventy foreigners arrested in Zimbabwe on charges of trying to topple the president of Equatorial Guinea leave a court set up at a maximum security prison 23 March 2003, in Harare. The 70 men were remanded until April 13. Man at right is unidentified. AFP PHOTO / STR</div>
Mann talks quietly in an upper-crust British accent that tells of growing up in the heart of the British establishment. Born into a brewing dynasty, to a father who captained England in cricket and won two Military Crosses and a Distinguished Service Order during World War II, Mann attended Eton and Sandhurst before joining the Scots Guards.
Having been selected for the elite Special Air Service (SAS), he served in Cyprus, Germany, Norway and Northern Ireland before leaving in 1985. He was recalled from the reserves to fight in the Gulf War.
Mann is hard of hearing in his right ear, making conversation amid the hubbub in The Botanist, the posh Sloane Square pub he chose for the interview, difficult.
There is a natural reticence about him and he takes his time to answer even the simplest question. This is a man who speaks far differently than he writes. There is a modesty in person that is not there in Cry Havoc, his gung-ho account of the disastrous “Wonga Coup” attempt in Equatorial Guinea and his time in two of Africa’s most notoriously hellish prisons, Zimbabwe’s Chikurubi and Equatorial Guinea’s Black Beach.
Mann, and 69 other mercenaries, was arrested in Zimbabwe in 2004 when the Boeing 727 he had acquired for the coup in Equatorial Guinea landed in Harare with $180,000 on board to pay for the arms he had bought for the operation.
He was convicted in Harare of two counts of buying and selling weaponry, and sentenced to seven years imprisonment. After serving three years, he was released and extradited to Equatorial Guinea where he was jailed for the planned coup, having been found guilty in absentia and sentenced to 34 years imprisonment. He served a year before being pardoned on humanitarian grounds by Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, the president he had been hired to overthrow.
Does Mann regret what he did? While he maintains that Equatorial Guinea was a “nasty” place, he thinks he should not have attempted the coup, and concedes it was a “bridge too far”. Mann believes that the situation is improving in the small oil-rich nation since the coup attempt, although he doesn’t connect the two things.
“It’s heading in the right direction, they’re making effort to get it right,” he says.
Mann has returned to Equatorial Guinea half a dozen times since his release. He says he is now “close” to Obiang who is, in his view, trying to set things right.
“I was very surprised when I was released,” he says, adding that he thought he’d be in jail for at least 10 years.
He has not been back to Zimbabwe and says he would require explicit assurances from the very top that it would be OK for him to do so.
Despite some circles criticizing the British government for washing its hands of the whole affair, Mann believes he was treated fairly.
“If you get involved in something like this and it goes horribly wrong, it is of your own doing.”
Mark Thatcher – the son of former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher – on the other hand, is still not in his good books.
“I’m still very pissed off with him. He let me down. I’m not a fan,” he says.
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In 2005, Thatcher admitted paying for a military helicopter used by the mercenaries but claimed that he believed it was to be used as an air ambulance. Thatcher paid a R3-million ($225,000) fine and got a four-year suspended sentence in South Africa where he had been living.
Mann’s adventures may have cost him a half a decade of his life but he remains unapologetic about the fact that he waged war for money across a continent that has seen too much conflict.
The moral boundaries of being guns for hire have always been blurry, but Mann is prosaic about it. He bundles his critics into a catch-all of “Guardian readers”, after the left-leaning British newspaper, who he says are pre-programmed to dislike “Old Etonian former Scots Guards” like himself.
Was Equatorial Guinea his last big coup? “Something like that,” he responds.
Mann says that the world has moved on, in a good way. He explains that the way to effect regime change is peaceful democratic elections, and that forced regime change only comes about because it is needed.
He agrees that the attempted coup in Equatorial Guinea was morally ambiguous, a far more generous interpretation than his critics had.
“It was controversial,” he admits, “… there was no war, so we can’t argue that we ended a war, we were going against an internationally recognized sovereign government.”
But he is steadfast that he was not wrong when he worked as a mercenary elsewhere on the continent and says that this is a very old profession. In Angola and Sierra Leone, where he was far more successful, he believes he was on the side of the angels – not least because he had been hired by the government of the day. These conflicts passed his moral test.
“I’m not saying we did things for entirely humanitarian reasons but it was self-defence for the… government.”
He claims that Executive Outcomes, the private military company (PMC) he was instrumental in founding, shortened the wars in both Angola and Sierra Leone. He was, he argues, in fact saving lives.
“Executive Outcomes saved the people of Sierra Leone from some real bastards.”
Mann is honest enough not to pretend that his motives were pure. He was in it for the money. While he felt sorry for the people in those countries, and says he was improving their lives, the major driver was monetary.
<div id="attachment_4080" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4080" class="size-medium wp-image-4080" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000_Par2051486-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" />British mercenary Simon Mann (2ndL) stands with co-accused on July 7, 2008 at Malabo&#8217;s courthouse. Mann was sentenced on July 7 by Malabo court to 34 years and four months in prison for leading an abortive coup in Equatorial Guinea. AFP PHOTO/ RODRIGO ANGUE NGUEMA</div>
Asked how you can justify being a mercenary, he quotes a poem by British poet A.E. Housman that sums it up. “This says more in two verses than most can say at all.”
However, he admits that PMCs shouldn’t be necessary and the work that they do would be better done by governments. Large-scale fighting isn’t a job for the private sector.
Putting business prerogatives into military situations can lead to a horrific moral dilemma. Why is this? The chain of command in an official army in a democratic state gives an audit trail of how things happen, and this leads to a better conclusion from moral, legal and philosophical aspects. Doing it as a business is completely different. But if official forces aren’t up to the job, then it is inevitable that PMCs will be there.
“Let’s say you are walking along a road and see a house on fire. If you’re asked to help you will say yes. But if a factory is on fire and you need men and equipment to fight that fire, you will do it as a business,” says Mann.
The nature of our conversation inevitably leads on to how to defeat Islamic State (IS) and other fundamentalists who are wreaking terror and misery across vast swathes of the Middle East and Africa.
For Mann it’s fairly simple, albeit not easy to execute. There are proven ways to win a war. You have to separate the guerrilla forces from people who are willing to support them, thus stopping the mechanism.
“This is hard to do against fundamentalists” who are a part of the communities that they terrorize but it’s better than being “cynical and saying to hell with it.”
Mann is, however, adamant that if western governments are not prepared to do what is required to defeat IS then private military companies should do it. PMC personnel are, after all, all ex-military and can get the job done without the political fallout. But why create soldiers if you are going to let them retire only to pay the private sector to deploy them?
“If society feels it has a moral right and duty to deal with IS then there should be support for boots on the ground.”
Part of that includes the fact that some of your people will inevitably die. War is not romantic and fighting wars is dreadful.
Is there a political will to do it? Mann believes so.
“Society has become far more interfering, and we have taken the approach of ‘if we can help, why not?’… Why care more about someone in Liverpool than in Mosul?”
And if governments are not going to care, there will be men who will be willing to care… for a fee, of course.
But it won’t be Simon Mann. He says his days of being a hired gun are over. He is now only involved in running his businesses and writing a novel which he describes as an adventure thriller modelled on John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps but set in modern times and with a female hero.
Time will tell.

The Dog Of War Who Bites No More

History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamour of the bad people, but, the appalling silence of the good people.” This Martin Luther King Jr quote brought courage to Mike Tshishonga’s soul, inspired him to be a whistleblower and ushered in his two worst days.
The first cost him his home and pride, leading to seven years in the wilderness. The second cost him humiliation, vilification and yet another job he loved.
The fury and conflict that raged around Tshishonga belies the peace and quiet of where he was born in 1946; in rural Venda located in Louis Trichardt, a small town nestled in South Africa’s northern Limpopo province; a peaceful place were wild animals roam. Even though the harsh apartheid regime was in force, Tshishonga grew up in a loving home and left to study law. He took King’s quote with him.
He hates crime and corruption. His battle for justice began in 1985, when he was the Secretary of Justice in the old Bantu system. At the time, Venda chiefs carried out ritual murders for strength and power. This was a burden on Tshishonga’s shoulders.
“They wanted human parts. One chief, Ramovha, was involved in these ritual killings. He was tried and found guilty of murder. His friends wanted me to recommend he be removed from the death sentence but I refused,” says Tshishonga.
Tshishonga became detested and resented among Ramovha’s friends and family. But he felt it was the right thing to do. Justice had to prevail.
Another ritual murder occurred; this time involving Chief AA Tshivhase, who was also hung for his crime.
“Tshivhase had a lot of political capital. As a result, parliament passed an act saying the president has the power to demote, transfer or reduce the salary of any public servant without giving any reason.”
This prompted Tshishonga’s dismissal.
“The president had been told that a lot of chiefs were involved in this and I was the problem that needed to be taken care of.”
Tshishonga had fought a losing battle in a place he called home. He left with nothing and had to stay with his in-laws.
“When you are a man and supposed to take care of your family but you can’t, and your mother-in-law has to take up the responsibility, it is traumatic, but pain makes us grow. It is a stepping stone to another level. It is not there to kill one but rather to give strength and greater wisdom,” he says.
After seven years of pain and penury, Tshishonga was rehabilitated in a new democratic South Africa; appointed as the Deputy Director General of the South African Justice Department in 1994.
“I was happy when someone who respected how I had stood up for justice recognized I was right and traced me down for this position. Those were very tough years for me but I will always speak up against wrongdoing,” says Tshishonga.
“During the years when Mandela was the president, everything was smooth. I was responsible for the liquidation division at the department.”
Little did he know, an even worse day was yet to come.
In 2003, Tshishonga was in hot water, again, for opposing the appointment of Enver Motala as liquidator for the Retail Apparel Group (RAG), then worth more than a billion rand. Penuell Maduna, the then Minister of Justice, ordered Tshishonga’s department to appoint Motala as liquidator for RAG. It was to be the biggest liquidation in the country’s history.
“We had a panel that decided which liquidator, out of 300, got which job. This was to avoid corruption because liquidation is a lucrative business. It is not, according to the law of insolvency, the minister who dictates who gets what job.”
“I think Maduna and Motala wanted to share the spoils. As always, I was very vocal about fighting corruption. Maduna then tried to get rid of me but they didn’t have any legal grounds to stand on.”
Tshishonga invoked the Protected Disclosures Act. He lodged a complaint about the irregularity with the Public Protector, the Auditor-General and even Essop Pahad, the then Minister in the Presidency under Thabo Mbeki.
“Essop suggested we sit around the table and address the matter but Maduna did not cooperate with me. No one seemed to care that such corruption and nepotism was taking place,” he says.
Pahad, when contacted by FORBES AFRICA, claims he has no knowledge of the matter.
In October 2003, when it came to light that his objections were going nowhere, he called a press conference.
“I had to become creative. I disclosed the information relating to the impropriety and nepotism of the minister to the whole country.”
Tshishonga was suspended with immediate effect. A disciplinary committee was convened. The suspension lasted nearly four years. This ushered in his second worst day. All hell broke loose.
“Vusi Pikoli, Director-General of the justice department at the time, said they can’t take me back because the trust between me and the department had been broken. They offered me a settlement and I refused. Getting rid of me was not getting rid of corruption,” he says.
Pikoli denies this.
“All I can say is that cases of fraud and corruption, where reported and detected in the Department of Justice and Constitutional Development when I was the Director-General, were dealt with,” he says.
The Labour Court ruled Tshishonga be reinstated in early 2004. He returned to his office, unaware that he faced the worst months of his life.
“I would go to the office and no job was coming to me. I had my desk, computer and everything but not work. I would go there, do nothing and leave the office at knockoff time. It was difficult for them to transfer me to another department because it would be against the Protected Disclosures Act. Any person who blows the whistle must not be redeployed because they have raised a concern that needs to be addressed.”
With no work coming his way, he started writing a book Whistleblower: The Mike Tshishonga Story, published in 2010.
“Instead of complaining about it, I decided to spend the time writing a book about the true events so that the outside world knows what happened,” he says.
Nobody spoke to him; he was in the office each day for nearly a year. He finally agreed to a settlement of R3 million (around $200,000) to leave the position. He left the department but not without suing for defamation.
“Maduna has told the media that I am a dunderhead, a relic of the apartheid regime who is a timid public servant and does not belong to the department.”
Tshishonga claimed 12 months’ salary for his trouble. The Labour Court ruled in his favor. He read self-help books and the book of Proverbs in the Bible to help him cope. He says he is strong as steel.
“The word death is not in my vocabulary. By killing another person, you are not giving yourself insurance that you would not die because one way or the other, you will.”
The then spokesperson at the office of the Public Protector, Charles Phahlane, was quoted in the media as saying the Public Protector was not provided with enough information to investigate the matter.
At a forum on November 17, 2010, South Africa’s current Public Protector, Thuli Madonsela, said she is encouraged by the existence of whistleblowers.
“I note with a sense of discomfort that one of the conference speakers is Mr Mike Tshishonga, who unsuccessfully approached the Public Protector, before my time, for relief regarding an occupational detriment… His complaint was not upheld by the Public Protector and eventually got such relief from a court of law after a costly and lengthy litigation process,” she said.
Maduna denies the allegations made by Tshishonga.
“Mike is the most timid public servant… At worst he is the sort of person who would not be able to box himself out of a wet paper bag,” he reportedly told a local newspaper.
Tshishonga’s unwillingness to yield to pressure by his corrupt peers shows his true nature. He is currently preparing to blow the whistle on a South African politician in the coming months; and he leaves us with a proverb.
“The scorpion was drowning in water. Somebody picked it up to save it. Once safe, the scorpion stung him. The person asked ‘Why would you do this after I helped you?’ and the scorpion said ‘It is my nature.’”
Let’s hope Tshishonga is not stung.

“Death Is Not In My Vocabulary”

A family man, who stood up for what he believed in, paid with his life. In the coalmining town of Dundee, situated in a valley of the Biggarsberg mountains, in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) province, it is one of the many sad, yet largely unsung, stories of whistleblowing in Africa.
Blowing the whistle is a tough game in 21st-century Africa, but, it’s as important as ever in a world of more and more dirty secrets. In many parts of the world, whistleblowers have become household names,  such as Chelsea Manning, after disclosing sensitive military and diplomatic documents, and Edward Snowden after he leaked classified information from the National Security Agency. In Africa, online warrior Baba Jukwa, who leaked sensitive information about Zimbabwe’s ruling party Zanu-PF; and Kenya’s John Githongo, who embarrassed the powerful with his book It’s Our Turn To Eat, are far from lauded.
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Sadly, many whistleblowers in Africa are ruined or die unsung. They are shunned, harassed, jailed and left jobless.
In the small town of Umzinyathi District in KZN, South Africa, whistleblowing ended with a bullet. Grishen Bujram, from Dundee, was respected and hardworking. He had been an activist since he was 15 and a councillor. One day, he found that free houses for the poor were being sold for profit. South Africa has built millions of the so-called Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) houses, putting a roof over millions of heads.
Bujram was outraged and alleged the mayor of the African National Congress (ANC)-controlled Endumeni municipality, Thandeka Nukani, had sold 17 RDP houses and also taken one for herself; even though she had a well-paid job.
Bujram confronted the mayor and reported it to the council. On June 15, 2007, he was allegedly called for a meeting. His widow, Shirley Bujram, kissed him goodbye at the door at 6:30PM, unaware it was the last time she would see him alive.
“I was home with my children and I heard someone pounding at the door. When I went to the kitchen it was dark but I could see the police blue lights. I assumed my husband went and smashed someone or something else had happened. When I opened the door I saw the police and his nephew there. I said to the nephew, ‘if your uncle is in trouble I will leave him in jail till the end of the weekend,’” says Shirley.
The men in blue asked Shirley to sit down as they delivered the news. They said Bujram had been shot many times at the wheel in a township near Dundee.
“He was like a father to all of us in the community,” says resident Muzikayifani Khumalo – eight years later.
Another resident Thando Dube* says, “The thing that ended his life was his hatred for corruption. People like Bujram are the people who die for telling the truth. In this district, we are scared to talk because we are face to face with the gun. This place is corrupt but if you speak up you die.”
In the days after the death, Nukani, according to Shirley, visited the family to pass her condolences.
“Her exact words were ‘your husband’s killers must rot in jail’ which is shocking because she had previously sent me messages saying my husband is interfering with her work and has a jealous syndrome. If he continues on his path against her, he will be sorry,” she says.
According to the widow, a woman who was with Bujram, minutes before the assassination, testified in court that Bujram knew he was being followed by the mayor’s car, but thought nothing of it. Two brothers, on their way home from work; witnessed the mayor’s boyfriend, Bongani Shangase, shoot Bujram and her nephew, Siyabonga Nukani, used the car as a getaway vehicle.
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This breakthrough gave way to disappointment for the Bujram family. They say Dundee police had the case for three months but no arrest was made until the widow went to the organized crime unit.
Police arrested Nukani, but charges were dropped for insufficient evidence. Detectives arrested Shangase and Siyabonga Nukani. Shangase received a life sentence; Siyabonga turned state witness and got 20 years.
“Thandeka planned to have her nephew poisoned because he had turned state witness. Her boyfriend worked with other inmates to make this happen but the inmates couldn’t go through with it,” says Shirley.
There were charges for the attempted murder of Siyabonga Nukani, against Thandeka Nukani. They were withdrawn, in 2011, due to insufficient evidence.
Shirley Bujram and the police, with Siyabonga Nukani’s cooperation, also found there was a hitman, Mzamo Majola.
“I found out that when [Bujram] was killed it was the third attempt which became successful. The hitman had tried two times before. On the day Bujram was killed, Mzamo Majola couldn’t go ahead with it because there were people around. Shangase got agitated and killed my husband himself,” she says.
The police offered Majola a deal to turn state witness. Based on his evidence, police arrested Thandeka Nukani again.
In August last year, Judge Isaac Nkosi withdrew the Bujram murder charges against Thandeka Nukani after Majola went on the run.
For the second time, the former mayor walked free.
Thandeka Nukani has been redeployed as the personal assistant to Umzinyathi District mayor, James Mthethwa. She lost her mayoral seat after it was found R100,000 ($7,410) in legal fees, for the Bujram case, were allegedly paid for by the ANC.
Thandeka Nukani did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
Nearly eight years on, Bujram’s comrades carry whistleblowing forward at equal risk. Mzwakhe Sithebe and Yussuf Kader are fellow activists who fight corruption in KZN and are often ridiculed for doing so.
“During the apartheid era we were fighting for justice together with Grishen Bujram. Now, in a democratic country, we are still faced with the same tendencies. The problem is people driven by greed,” says Sithebe.
“The problem is that politicians have been elevated and are like a law [unto] themselves. We will always fight for justice. The issue of being eliminated unfortunately is the fate for all of us who stand against corruption. We will raise questions that need to be raised irrespective of who will be offended and decide to kill us. We have lost a number of whistleblowers in this area. We need some kind of system that protects people willing to come forward with sensitive information.”
Kader, a businessman who now drives a bulletproof car, says whistleblowers risk their lives for the good of the country.
“Houses of the poorest of the poor are being taken by those in power. Some RDP houses get sold and there is a lot of inside corruption which we continue to fight against,” says Kader.
Because of the corruption, Kader has written a letter demanding the dismissal of five government employees.
“As it stands, I can be killed at any time but I am not afraid to die for the poorest of the poor.”
Endumeni Municipality’s Mayor Thulani Mahaye, the successor to Mayor Nukani, encourages people to come forward with any information that exposes irregularities.
“I am proud of the police and the community right now. They are working together to make this area safer and ensure arrests are made when a crime is committed. If someone needs to blow the whistle and they are afraid of being eliminated, they can secretly come forward and protection will be given to them,” he says.
Despite this, controversy over houses, that saw the death of Bujram, rumbles on.
A five-minute drive outside Dundee lies the small town of Glencoe. Its residents are up in arms against the municipality. They allege 71 names, for RDP houses, in Glencoe’s Sithembile Phase 2 projects, have been removed from the list.
“It is unclear how so many people lost houses they had applied, and had been approved, for. It can only be corruption. People’s names are disappearing from the list or being withdrawn without reason. For some people, untrue claims of application withdrawals are even made,” says Glencoe resident Sifiso Madi.
“An RDP house that I applied for was approved but when the houses were built they said I withdrew my application which I never did. They also said that they looked for me to come and sign documents but didn’t find me. This is not true because no one ever contacted me or my next of kin, sent a letter or came to where I stay to look for me,” says one Dundee woman who wants to remain anonymous for fear of retribution.
Another frustrated resident says “my cousin died in 2008 but an RDP house had been approved for him. He left dependants, so in 2013 when the houses were being built I decided to check on the progress to make sure his children have a place to stay. Funnily enough, they gave me a list that says my cousin withdrew the application. How is that possible when he is dead? Did he wake up from his grave to withdraw it? I asked the human settlement people to show me where my cousin signed to withdraw his application for the house he had already been approved for, but obviously, because it never happened, they were not able to provide any proof.”
Many who rocked the boat like Bujram also paid with their lives.
In June, just 55 kilometers from Dundee, Vusi Ntombela, an Nquthu Municipality council speaker for the ANC, and teacher and deputy principal at Luvisi Primary School, was gunned down while teaching a Grade 6 class. A gunman walked into his classroom and shot him four times. Two pupils were caught in the crossfire. Thirteen-year-old Elizabeth Nhleko died from a stray bullet.
The widow, Thembelihle Ntombela, told journalists she believes Vusi was killed because of tensions within the ANC. In December last year, Vusi had resisted an instruction from the ANC sub-region to resign as speaker. His murder is allegedly related to political tensions in the governing party’s Inkosi Bhambatha region and in the council itself.
Police arrested Mbhekiseni Khambule and Sibongiseni Mdakane for the murder. Khambule is the bodyguard of Nquthu mayor, Emily Molefe. Mdakane was later sentenced to life imprisonment. He confessed that he had been promised R15,000 (around $1,100) for the hit by his co-accused.
In May 2008, Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) councillor Peter Nxele was shot dead in his driveway for speaking out against corruption just a week after raising questions about R50,000 ($3,700) that had gone missing from a council business grant. He also requested a forensic audit into the spending of the Endumeni municipality. One of the five men accused of gunning down Nxele is Bongani Shangase, the same man who killed Bujram.
In June 2009, 124 kilometers from Dundee where Bujram was killed, Tony Malunga, an ANC councillor and regional executive committee member, was gunned down at his home in Greytown. He was allegedly killed because of his fight against corruption. Malunga was found lying in a pool of blood outside the ANC offices.
Back in Dundee, Shirley Bujram vows to fight for justice for her husband’s murder.
“My husband was diabetic but a month before he died he said to me he was not going to be killed by diabetes because there is a bullet there for him; and by the bullet he died.”

Tag: October 2015

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