By Haron Wachira
Wanna be a CEO? It’s a dream fantasized by many young, and other not so young, career makers. For what it might be worth then here is my experience, and seven Lessons.
I became a CEO of a national youth magazine (Step) when I was 24. It was a sudden development, thrust unto me after the editor quit suddenly. I was recalled from Daystar University (where I was attending part-time on a scholarship secured through the magazine).
I inherited the usual perks that go with a big position: a nice car (a Peugeot 504, at the time, quite prestigious), a Secretary, a spacious office, and a big title: Managing Editor.
All that, I was to learn in short order, was a facade. To begin with, the magazine was deep in debt. We owed the printer, and others, a lot of money. When they got wind of a change in management they got visibly hostile.
I had no experience to speak of in management, let alone in the management of debt. At best I was a young, amateur writer who had been awarded a scholarship and a junior writing position in a fledgling youth magazine that had barely learned to walk.
So I followed the only wisdom at my disposal freely for such an eventuality — The Bible: Go to your creditors and plead for mercy before they take drastic action (Matthew 5:25).
“Look,” I told the printer, “if you refuse to print the magazine, we will go down — with your dues. But if you can be gracious enough to print for us despite our debts we can pay each month’s bill and a portion of the overdue amount.”
He accepted. Buoyed by the positive response, I sought and secured similar deals with all our creditors… Fast forward two years on, we were debt-free.
And thus I secured my first set of great management lessons:
Lesson One: That beyond a glittering front may well lie a contrasting, dark reality. The facade is superficial; a cover; make-up.
The crowd sees and judges based on outward appearances: beauty; the Neighbour’s green lawn; a sport’s car. But the bearer of the reality has to walk and talk and otherwise interact with the nuts and bolts and sand and cement and stones. You are the one feeling the pinch of that pebble inside your otherwise shiny pair of shoes.
Lesson Two: In God’s Word lies the wisdom and guidance you need for decision-making, including in management and for peace amidst the storms of life.
I had, earlier on, attended a three-month macroeconomics class taught by (then unknown) Dr. Michael Schluter (today: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Schluter_(economist)) in which the only textbooks for the course were the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. It was to become a life-long ‘adaptation’, one that grew to the point of my writing a commentary on Leviticus for The Justice Bible (https://www.godsjusticebible.com/wp-content/uploads/Gods_Justice_The_Holy_Bible_Sample.pdf). Today, I teach — from the pulpit, in board rooms, and in community gatherings — biblical principles for life, work, investment, management, farming, and stewardship of the environment.
Beyond managing debt I needed to cut down expenses. The glorious Peugeot was the first to go. I sold it for Shs 160,000, enough to pay off two months’ printing bill and buy a smaller car. Yes, I missed the thrill of the Peugeot’s speed! But the sacrifice probably kept me from other troubles. I still shudder a bit as I remember the day we, as a group of young drivers, sped our way to and from Nyeri to go ‘fetch’ a young bride (then Ann Ngibuini; now Judge Anna Mwaura – https://youtu.be/ueQqpOdtv00) and deliver her to her wedding. We had averaged a cruising speed of 120 km/hr along the then-crazy Nairobi to Nyeri highway. Our entourage overtook slower cars with loud honks and revs, presidential motorcade style.
When we were back in Nairobi and, upon waking up to the reality that I was still alive, my whole body started to shake like a leaf. I had to sit on a stone to steady my nerves and reflected on the near-death cruise. What if an accident had happened and I died and left my newly-born daughter fatherless, and my young wife a widow? So in the place of the Peugeot came in a Renault Roho, the slowest car on the planet, and I drove it for all the four years I worked as Step’s Managing Editor — contentedly: slow, safe, economical, and safe to leave at any parking.
Lesson Three: Optimization is hard but rewarding work.
The guzzler car was just one of the reasons why we were in debt. Another strangler was a bulky return of unsold magazines. Too many copies came back from the distributor (Nation Newspapers), after each cycle due to uneven allocations to the street vendors. Some sold out their allotted magazines in just a few days; others sold only a few of them and returned a pile, and then still got a huge allotment the following month.
It took a bit of convincing but Nation eventually allowed us to get involved in determining the number of dispatches to each vendor, based on the previous month’s sales. Result: we brought down the returns from around 30% to 5% within a year, and alongside the improvement, we broke even and left with a little surplus for a rainy
Again, fast-forwarding beyond Step, I learned how to critique operational systems and improve them dramatically: individual productivity; cutting down expenses; refining sales processes, in making presentations… and, currently, improving agricultural productivity and efficiency in the implementation of carbon credit generating programs. The capacity became a huge asset in my career, one from which I am still earning returns.
Lesson Four: Automation is a huge ally in a business’ pursuit of competitiveness.
I had an interest in computers (starting out with word processing, on a CPM-based Osborne, courtesy of my friend Gabriel K. Kago) but the need to cut down costs and improve production efficiency led to more advanced uses. I acquired an Apple Mac in 1984, very early in its day. (It’s forthcoming — “The development that will bring publishing to the desktop” — had been brought to my attention by Tim Stafford, my mentor in writing and publishing).
I learned and used the Mac to design the magazine, to keep books, and, later, to exchange and convert documents between three different operating systems: Mac OS, CPM, and DOS. I wasn’t aware then how far ahead in computing I got in the process, but the forward thrust was to so remain for many years. I left Step in 1987, (after a minor quarrel with my boss, in which I tried to persuade him to allow me to establish a multimedia studio so that we could integrate the production of video, audio, and print and he said no. How was I to know then that he hardly understood what I was proposing?)
Anyhow, I applied for an advertised IT and Management position by Price Waterhouse (now PwC) and secured the position that was to transition me into the world of ICT, computer assembly, ICT education, and eventually into the development of distributed systems, specializing in efficiency/productivity improvement tools.
Lesson Five: Growth and fame need to be managed — carefully.
Step soon grew into a multi-nationally distributed magazine, riding on Youth for Christ’s network of ministries in East and Southern Africa. We reprinted in Zambia and Zimbabwe and sent copies to other countries. By 1987 we had a monthly circulation of 53,000 copies of the magazine in 11 African countries.
I traveled widely as a result, often as a guest speaker to invited functions. Imagine what an anti-climax I found myself into, when I (a thin, not very impressively dressed young man) would show up and, as I walked up to the front, overhear people saying, “This is him?” Not once, or twice. Every time. My “fame” did not match with my looks. Some people even told me so to my face.
My “freedom” from this often repeated put-down came about through two incredible experiences. The first one was from a visit to Zimbabwe.
Youth for Christ had arranged my accommodation in a home, where I was to stay with a brother in Christ, a white Zimbabwean. It was my first time to literally step into serious wealth: a house with a spongy, wall-to-wall green carpet in all rooms. My room was superbly furnished, including a water mattress that had controls to adjust the temperature and gleaming antique furniture and expensive picture frames.
But, in that large house, were only four of us: the host, a cook, a cat and I. We ate breakfast together, the Mzungu and I, then went separate ways, he in his chauffeur-driven, gleaming luxury car; I to my Step-related businesses, courtesy of another chauffeur-driven car facilitated by my host. But after four days, my curiosity could not be contained, and I asked my host, as politely as I could over breakfast, how it was that he lived all alone.
“Would you really like to hear my story?” He asked, looking at me keenly.
“Yes, I would,” I said, “if it is okay for you to tell me.”
He did: he had had a young, beautiful wife and two lovely children. But he was never there for them, spending nearly all of his time building his business empire. One day he came home and was just lucky enough to meet them at the door, on their way out with boxes of clothing.
“Where are you off to,” he asked. His wife told him she had had enough of the marriage because her husband was never available to her and the children. He tried to plead, in vain, that he was busy pursuing wealth for their enjoyment. She left, and the children with her.
That crisis led my host to Christianity, and, I learned, I met him soon after the separation. He showed me around his businesses: four of them. He also invited me to a street party he now organized every week, in which he fed hundreds of people, and Youth for Christ presented the gospel.
Shortly afterward, our board was reconstituted and, among my new board members, was a very wealthy person. One afternoon I went over to her home, in a rich suburb of Nairobi, to obtain signatures for cheques. Again, I came face to face with incredible wealth. Over lunch, specially prepared and presented elegantly by a uniformed cook, I stared shamelessly at all the glory that surrounded us, and my host noticed.
“Can I give you a piece of advice, Wachira,” she said.
“I would love that,” I said, thinking that it would be along the lines of how to grow wealthy….
“Don’t ever let this (with a sweep of her arm pointing to all I could see) get into your heart.”
“How do you mean?” I said.
“It means nothing.”
“How do you mean?” I said again, puzzled.
“It does not represent happiness or even real money.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Let me give you an example,” she said. “The food we are eating – I paid for the meat with an overdraft facility; money borrowed from the bank.”
I thought about that lunch hour experience for a long time. And even longer when I learned, in later years that her marriage did not last. And every time I catch myself starting to get fascinated by fame or wealth the memories of those incidents, and others that I have collected along my now longer journey in life, keep me in check.
Lesson Six: There is the right time for everything.
Step in Kenya survived a few years after my departure (but survived in Ghana, under Lawrence Darmani (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawrence_Darmani), and I often blamed myself for poor legacy planning. The feeling persisted to the extent that I renegotiated with the Magazine’s subsequent owners and got permission to re-activate its publication. I tried and failed. The step had its day. It entertained, educated, and inspired a people of that generation, and when it had done its part, that chapter was closed.
Lesson Seven: Change is a constant; embrace it; surf it!
The article I presented at a writers workshop, which earned me the association with the magazine and kicked off my career, was hand-written. I had gone over it many times, each time tearing up the sheets of paper I had corrected till it was clean, without errors, in my best handwriting. When I joined Step, Tim Stafford (https://timstafford.wordpress.com/about/) bought me a typewriter and a typing tutorial guide, and I was able to learn to type with all my fingers without having to look at the keyboard. Then, progressively, I advanced my skills: to word processing…. Management skills. Desktop publishing…. Then other aspects of computing…. And from driving a stick-gear car to auto; and from using fixed location telephone handset to a mobile phone….. and carbon credits, my mainstay currently.
Do you see what I am saying? Change is a constant. If you don’t change with it…. Well, your career will no doubt eventually be overtaken by the times, and fall by the wayside, or over the cliff.
Delve deeper into the complexities of career growth and adaptation in my related blog, “All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter.“ Explore how embracing change, resilience, remaining resourcefulness is essential for lasting success.
Haron Wachira 