An uneasy quietness permeates the Public Protector’s office in Pretoria, South Africa. Where ever we go, including the bathroom, there’s an escort lurking, keys in hand.
The usher apologizes for the tight security.
The staff are clearly on high alert following shocking revelations of an assassination plot against the Public Protector, Advocate Thuli Madonsela.
When Madonsela appears, I expect the same tension but it immediately becomes clear that drama is around her, not within.
Yes, she is reserved but one could say it’s her personality. The advocate is dressed in figure-hugging blue jeans, and her Zen voice and sophisticated demeanour draws you in.
It’s not surprising that someone would threaten her life. After all, she has ruffled some very powerful feathers. No case is too big, small or dangerous for her. She was recently tipped off by a whistle-blower that a gang boss in Cape Town has paid three hit men R740,000 ($47,000) to kill her and make it seem like a car accident. Madonsela says she has no reason to doubt this and takes it very seriously.
“It’s because of my history with the whistle-blower that I have no reason to believe that she is not telling the truth. She says she saw the emails because she’s linked to the gangs from the community. She had given me information before that that turned out to be true,” Madonsela explains, no flicker of fear in her voice.
Her courage is understandable considering the women who have influenced her from a young age. Among them is anti-apartheid activist Victoria Mxenge, a lawyer who was a prominent member of the United Democratic Front. She became more politically active after the assassination of her husband Griffiths Mxenge.
“I never got to meet her but I went to her funeral. This is where I got to hear about this fearless lady who was a nurse and continued to study to become a lawyer. When her husband died, she didn’t shy away, she took over from where he’d left off and met the same violent death,” she explains.
Madonsela has an affinity with Victoria Mxenge. She too, could have been a nurse if her father had his way but she chose to study law.
“When I finished grade 10, my father arranged with a nursing sister who lived a block away from us to get a place for me at Baragwanath Hospital to study nursing. Everything had been arranged without consulting me. I was supposed to go there on a Monday, I refused,” she smiles.
Her father, who worked in the electrical industry, refused to part with a cent for her fees from that grade until university. Her mother, a domestic worker at the time, went all the way to Evelyn Baring High School in Swaziland to speak to her school principal to arrange her bursary. She finished high school through a church bursary and got a United Nations sponsorship for university.
“My father was the scariest man I had seen in my entire life. He had been brought up in the farms. He was really draconian. People were also scared of him but I think when you grow up as a child you eventually realize he’s not going to kill you,” she laughs.
“My first act of defiance was this one although it wasn’t meant to be an act of defiance, it was at the time when I had decided I wanted to be a lawyer, not a nurse.”
What influenced her to become a lawyer was the June 16 Soweto uprising; she was 15 at the time. She initially wanted to become a doctor as she was good at maths and science. People who saw her caring nature thought so too.
She chose law because she was convinced of its healing power. This was during apartheid when a lot of black people’s problems were with the law. They were being arrested because of the pass laws.
“Our cousins would be visiting us from other parts of the world and we would all be traumatized by the police knocking at night at our house and in the neighborhood. We would run around and hide in the cupboards and under the beds, some people would still be taken away. In fact, one of my cousins was taken away coming back from work. We heard they found him without a pass. There was a farm out there in Mpumalanga where they sent people to work for free. We never saw him we don’t know what happened to him till today.”
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Humble Childhood
The advocate comes from humble beginnings in Dlamini, Soweto. Her father never saw the inside of a classroom but he taught himself to read and write. He pulled himself up by the bootstraps and bought a few cars which he used on weekends as long-distance taxis.
Her mother also had little education. She quit school and ran away from her adopted missionary family in pursuit of an alluring life she believed domestic workers had when she saw them in fancy clothes during December holidays. According to Madonsela, it’s a mistake she would later regret and wouldn’t allow her children to repeat.
“One thing she really drummed into our heads was education at the greatest level because she had the misfortune of meeting the child who was taken by the missionaries to fill her place. She had been educated, happily married and she was living a proper life,” she says.
Madonsela’s interest in fighting for people’s rights started early. When she was still studying in Swaziland, the late struggle veteran and African National Congress (ANC) stalwart Albertina Sisulu used to invite her over during the holidays. This is where she met her son, the late Zwelakhe Sisulu, who later introduced her to the National Union of Painters and Allied Workers Union (NUPAWU).
“He thought I could assist and they could use free labor but it was quite a lovely experience,” she chuckles.
Once she finished her degree, she worked with the union again as a legal advisor. Her first entry was to negotiate a transition from the pension fund to the provident fund. She then left and worked briefly in the construction industry as a legal advisor. From here, she joined the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) under the Center for Applied Legal Studies as a researcher and also teaching labor law and gender studies part-time. She was involved in the civic movement.
Madonsela was also involved in advising the ANC on the constitution. During the multi-party talks, they also assisted with research mostly on issues of equality, the bill of rights and land. She was also part of the 11 constitutional experts based in Cape Town.
Her knowledge of the constitution came in handy recently when opposition parties went to the Constitutional Court of South Africa asking the highest court in the land to clarify the powers of her office.
“It was important for me as a South African and as the leader of the team that whatever happens there, the powers of this office are properly understood. I think it was the right decision but there was so much attack that we should stay out of it and let other people define your powers, which was wrong. In fact, it’s normal that if litigation has got a touch on you that you’re included as a respondent,” explains Madonsela.
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‘I Use Soft Power’
One would be forgiven for thinking the Public Protector’s office only pursues corruption cases. It is all that ever hits the front pages of newspapers. The bulk of her work comes from what she calls the Gogo (granny) Dlamini’s cases. This would be a pensioner whom the law has failed and has been sent from pillar to post.
“One of the cases I had to decide on was a rape victim who was sent from pillar to post for eight years and the case had been postponed more than 40 times. The sense as a team here is that it is not enough to say we’ve wronged you we will not do it again. Even if we don’t pay them enough money to rebuild their lives but there has to be a sense of compensation or consolation,” she says.
Regarding financial mismanagement, she believes for this democracy to thrive, the little money this country has must be used properly. If it’s not, there won’t be proper housing, quality health and education systems.
“As you can see now, 22 years into democracy, we’ve done well in that today is better than yesterday but we all agree that we could have done better. We had the means to do better but because of maladministration, corruption and misappropriation of public funds, the pace has been slower than it should have been,” says Madonsela.
What was to be the fight of her life, since she took office in 2009, was her investigation of South African President Jacob Zuma’s estimated R246 million (approx. $15.7 million as per current exchange rate) public spending on the security upgrades of his home in Nkandla in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province. The president claims to have raised a loan of R800,000 ($51,000) for part of these renovations. Many would have shivered and shied away from such a delicate case but Madonsela rolled up her sleeves. She admits such cases need a fine balancing act.
“What I’ve done with all of these cases is to do expectations management, I use soft power. I think Nkandla is a sad case where soft power conversations didn’t work,” says Madonsela.
By ‘soft’, she means calling people to her office, make them tea and politely reminding them of what the law stipulates. She often points out these are the rules that they as government have made. She is only there to enforce the laws and in doing so has to be consistent. She says in most cases they understand that it’s not personal.
“I think with this case, we didn’t see it coming, we honestly thought that it was one of the easy ones where one can say yes we made a mistake but we can fix it. You can recall we didn’t even say that someone must decide how much must be paid, we said somebody must ‘advise’ on how much should be paid. It was crafted in such a way that compliance was made easy,” she adds.
“Regardless of what people think of me and my team, we do put ourselves in the shoes of people we judge. The story is not just about the money, it was a story about excesses, privileges for those who are employed by government and what we wanted was to stop the rot more than to recover that money. The idea was not to cripple the person because we know that the president is not a business person, he is an employee of the state, based on what he has disclosed, he doesn’t appear to be rich, so the idea was to pay what is reasonable.”
Sometimes when a big story breaks, her heart sinks and prays: ‘please God, not me’.
Madonsela was raised by spiritual parents. Her mother was brought up a 7th-day Adventist and her father a Methodist lay preacher.
“We grew up in an environment where we were expected to read the Bible every day, listen to short stories on the radio or religious services,” she explains.
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Most Influential
She also drew lessons and inspiration from women like Eleanor Roosevelt, Oprah Winfrey, Priscilla Jana (a fearless lawyer), Charlotte Maxeke and Olive Schreiner.
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“Olive Shreiner, she wasn’t a lawyer, but she is the person who made it possible for us women lawyers to become lawyers because initially the law society didn’t want us to become lawyers saying that we don’t have the necessary demeanour. Women are most suited for babies and cooking, this court decision was made in 1923.”
In 2014, TIME included her in its prestigious 100 Most Influential People list. In it, Lamido Sanusi, former governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria, called her “an inspirational example of what African public officers need to be”.
“When I was first told, I wasn’t even here, my team sent me an email to that effect and I thought ‘no, it’s a joke, it’s one of those 419 scams’. I honestly didn’t feel I was among the 100 influential people in the world,” says Madonsela.
Despite her hectic schedule and the expectations placed on her, she begins her day at 3AM with meditation. She spends her free time with her children or reading. Once a year, she goes to the cinema or theater. What she misses lately are her weekend walks with friends. Those have been suspended because of the alleged hit on her.
She is active on Twitter, mostly posting inspirational messages.
“When I meditate and find something inspirational that anchors my thoughts I share it with people. I find that they respond positively. They would say I spoke to what they were dealing with that day. I would share it because it talked to my soul and what I was struggling with on that morning.”
With her tenure in office coming to an end in September, some would like her to be the country’s president. What did she think of it?
“That is sweet of them but I don’t believe that if you’re good at one thing you’ll automatically be good in politics,” she answers.
Madonsela has a light side to her too. She has an eye for aesthetics and fashion. As a child, she used to draw patterns and sew her own clothes; this is the one thing she plans to return to when she leaves office and turn into a business.
She already has big plans. She will be going back full-time to the bar as an advocate in the high court, at the same time teaching law. She has been approached by several universities; she still needs to choose what will be best for her. She also plans to do civic work again and continue to play a part in expanding social justice, particularly for women and people with disabilities, whilst promoting racial reconciliation.
Next year, she will be writing two books, one her story, and another on administrative law, with the aim of making the work of the Public Protector better understood.

0011

The Unstoppable Force Named Thuli Madonsela

Once a month, at full moon, hundreds of hikers don their headlamps and tighten their laces ready for the climb. It’s a long and sapping four kilometers to the summit of Lion’s Head, the outcrop overlooking the rooftops of the suburbs to the east of the city Cape Town. At the top you have an unrivalled panorama of the city bowl; from an imposing misty Table Mountain to the pristine white beaches of Clifton and the blue Atlantic beyond.
On this day, people were there to see more than that. Hundreds packed at the peak of Lion’s Head to see the moon rise in the east and the sunset in the west. It is a rare moment of natural beauty. For Cape Town hikers, a sweaty rite of passage is to bathe in the dusk and then walk in the beams of moonlight.
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Along the route is a tricky chain ladder that is not for the faint of heart. Some turn back, spooked by the dizzy heights. The final stretch is a cruel incline and scramble up the rocks that leaves you puffing.
For one man, this is more than just one of nature’s gifts. In a grey jersey he chooses the rise of the moon as his moment to propose to his love. As he drops on one knee, the crowd catches on. When he does the deed his blushing fiancé says yes; her face is as red as the sunset. The climbers of Lion’s Head break out into applause. This is surely a story for the wedding reception.
Others make the trek with friends, to share a drink. Selfies with yoga poses on the rocks are on their agenda to take in the moment. Another individual makes a Skype call to his family in England, they are impressed he made it up in an hour and a half.
It’s not always the safest place to be on top of a mountain. The weather can be misleading. Winds can gust and blow you off the rocks. Often hikers fall and need to be airlifted to safety.
As the night settles, the headlamps are switched on and a chill wind sets in – it’s time to go. The hundreds of people on top of the summit scramble down. In an instant there is a traffic jam on the rocks as slow as the streets of Lagos. At least the view is good.
All part of a night in Africa, hiking towards the sun and to take in the moonlight. Where else but in Africa?

Between The Sun And  The Moon

Doug Ryder says he nearly passed out when his cycling team got a wild card place at last year’s Tour de France.
But this July he will have all his wits about him as Team Dimension Data compete as a fully-fledged top division team, with realistic hopes of snagging stage wins and enjoying a spell in the leader’s yellow jersey, at the sport’s ultimate challenge.
Usually wildcards in the Tour make as much impact as a wildcard at Wimbledon. But last year MTN-Qhubeka (as they were known before a change in sponsor), were second, at a time, in the overall team classification. Daniel Teklehaimanot, one of the Eritreans in the team, wore the polka-dot jersey for several stages, as he became the first African to lead the mountain classification.
The team then trumped all of that by winning stage 14 on what Ryder calls “the Mandela Day stage”. The British journeyman Steve Cummings finished first on the anniversary of the former South African president’s birthday.
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No longer a novelty, Ryder and his African side will be every bit a legitimate part of the Tour, now elevated to the status of the UCI World Tour – the equivalent of playing in the English Premier League.
To develop the footballing analogy, the team have been promoted rapidly through the leagues. It was only in 2013 that they were granted a place on the international circuit.
And in doing so they have captured the attention of the sport globally, making headlines across the world for what has been seen as an over-achievement for a group of riders most outside of the sport had never heard of before.
It has been a dramatic rise for a team built by a little known South African cyclist who has gone from trying to balance his own career with a job in IT to now effectively being the chief executive of a multi-million-dollar business.
Last year the team were operating with a budget of around $6.5 million. Now they are “well north of that that,” says Ryder as he seeks to compete with the best by signing the likes of Mark Cavendish, Nathan Haas and Omar Fraile to his team. Top cycling outfits, like Team Sky, have operating budgets estimated around $28 million.
Ryder, an energetic and effervescent 44-year-old from Cape Town, rode for South Africa at the Atlanta Olympics and three World Road Race Championships but never enjoyed the pampered existence of a professional in a major race team.
“Pretty much everywhere we went we had to make things happen for ourselves,” he says of his racing days.
So he built his own team, way back in 1997, going through a series of different names as he solicited sponsorship from the likes of Lotus Development, Microsoft, Energade and MTN.
“It was only when MTN came on board as sponsors in 2007 that is when it really started to take off. We wanted to first be the best team in South Africa, then Africa and then to try and take on the world,” says Ryder in an interview with FORBES AFRICA.
“I always wanted to do something uniquely different, to show the ability of the African continent. When I was racing in the late 90s and early 2000s as a professional in Europe, I didn’t get that many opportunities, cycling was really hard then and lot was going on in the sport. It was a bit like racing motorbikes.”
“So I came back to South Africa and said ‘let me start my own team and believe in taking African cyclists as far as they can go’.”
By 2013, the small operation had advanced to 21 riders and 25 staff, 70% of them from Africa. Riders from South Africa were joined by professionals from Algeria, Eritrea and Rwanda. Now, as they ride on the bigger stages, it is full of some of the sports top stars – notably the sprinter Cavendish, whose annual salary is in the $4 million range. Signing him was a massive publicity coup, almost as big a statement as their exploits in the inaugural Tour de France.
“He’s probably the biggest name in the sport. He loves that we are partnered with Qhubeka and what we stand for. It has created an incredible buzz in the team.”
Five years ago, Ryder added Qhubeka to the team name, handing an international profile to a non-profit organization who give bicycles to people in return for community service.
“There is a perception about bicycles in Africa and riding them. Some people would rather walk than ride a bicycle because they feel it shows they cannot afford a car. We’ve tried to make bike riding cool. If the bicycle becomes a cool thing that people want to have, then maybe we can mobilize this continent forward. But we need heroes to do so. And that was the theory, the method in the madness to put this team together,” says Ryder.
The Tour de France offers a massive worldwide profile again but since January, Team Dimension Data have ridden in all the World Tour events, from Australia to Spain, then Dubai and Qatar, Oman, Malaysia, Belgium and Switzerland. In August, they will be in the Vuelta a Espana (the Tour of Spain) and ride in Canada and then the Netherlands before the year is out.
It is a remarkable story of persistence and dogged determination, as Ryder spent much of last year just negotiating and seeking to secure a myriad of sponsors to elevate his Johannesburg-registered team into a proper international concern.
He remains the driving force behind the team and the key element in the success they have had to date with his passion to see the team not just compete, an achievement of his own, but win stages and, ultimately, races.
Never has any sports outfit from Africa made such a dramatic rise.
Now Ryder is able to take more of a hands-on role, planning to manage the team on a daily basis as the look forward to an exciting future.

The Man Plotting How Africa Can Win The Tour De France

The 2016 European Championship is set to light up the northern hemisphere summer as the continent’s best battle for what is the second biggest prize in world football.
A new, expanded format will see the number of teams compete in France raised from 16 to 24, providing more football for the watching world and more opportunities for players with African roots to shine.
It is a great irony that at the highest level of European football, many teams will rely heavily on players of African descent for success.
Some were born in Africa, while others have ties to the continent through their immigrant parents, but have decided to wear the colors of the country in which they were raised.
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Many were cast into European life when their families fled violence, poverty and famine, and have little or no feeling towards a continent that they have not lived in. But this is not the case for all.
The reality for many players is that the chances of being successful in a World Cup are greater with a European nation, and the financial rewards far outweigh those of competing for an African team.
It has not been an easy decision for many players and some have faced prejudice for it in the land of their birth.
Such has been the success of players of African descent in France that in 2011 reports emerged that a quota of no more than 30% black players would be allowed in academies feeding into the national team. This caused outrage, and was denied by the French Football Federation, but shows the influence of the African player on the European game.
France’s strong ties to West and North Africa make it an obvious leader in this arena, but players of African descent are popping up in the national teams of Austria, Slovakia, the Czech Republic and Sweden.
Veteran French defender Patrice Evra will likely have his international swansong at the Championships on home soil, despite being born in Dakar to a Senegalese father and Cape Verdean mother. He reveals how his decision to play for France, where he spent much of his formative years, made him a target back in Senegal.
“I grew up amid a Senegalese culture at home,” he told reporters. “But we became westernized very quickly and when I had to choose between playing for Senegal or France my father told me to follow my heart.”
“I opted for France, as that was where I had grown up, but I then came in for lots of abuse in Senegal. I was called a monkey who grovels before the white man and labelled a money-obsessed traitor to the nation. But my parents helped me get through it.”
His national teammate, goalkeeper Steve Mandanda, was born in Kinshasa but turned his back on the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) to play for France.
That, ironically, allowed his brother Parfait, who was born in France and is also a goalkeeper, to play international football for the DRC.
Stade Rennes winger Paul-Georges Ntep is part of the latest generation, seen as a rising star of French football but was born in Cameroon. He moved to Paris at the age of eight to live with an aunt and turned down numerous overtures from the Indomitable Lions to play for them before he was awarded his first French cap last year.
Another player also chased for a long time was Leicester City midfielder N’Golo Kanté, who was born in Paris to Malian parents. He admits he chose France purely for the opportunity to play in the European Championships.
“It’s a chance to play the Euro in France,” he said. “Regarding Mali, for a while, it’s true they contacted me. It was not necessarily an easy choice to make. But I chose the France team.”
It is likely that as much as 60% of France’s squad at Euro 2016 will be made up of players either born in, or with parents from, Africa.
Belgium, who are perhaps the most open of all European nations to immigrants, have seen their national team briefly perched on top of the FIFA World Rankings this year with a meteoric rise on the back of, it’s fair to say, their players of African descent.
Star striker Romelu Lukaku was born in Belgium where his father Roger, a Zaire international, was playing. His brother Jordan also plays for Belgium.
Lukaku’s major rival for a starting place in the Belgium line-up is Christian Benteke, who was born in Kinshasa but whose family fled to Belgium during the reign of Mobutu Sese Seko.
The same can be said for the parents of Vincent Kompany, who, injury-willing, will be leading Belgium at the finals, while Divock Origi, like Benteke a forward at Liverpool, was born in Belgium where his father Mike, a Kenyan international, was playing for KV Oostende.
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Origi had seriously considered a future with Kenya even as his star was on the rise in Europe, but in the end a mixture of factors drove him towards playing for Belgium.
“I remember at that time there was some stand-off between the league and federation. He read about that stuff and it really put him off,” his father Mike told journalists.
“But obviously there were other issues, like playing at the Euros or World Cup for a big national team in Europe.”
“Nevertheless, Divock is a Kenyan with a Belgium passport. He speaks fluent Kiswahili, comes to Kenya often and enjoys Kenyan food the most.”
Tottenham Hotspur youngster Dele Alli, the toast of English football, has a Nigerian father Kenny, who claims his son is actually a prince in the Yoruba tribe that makes up about 20% of the country’s population.
Another young English star, Ross Barkley of Everton, has a Nigerian grandfather and was courted by that country before pinning his colours to the England mast.
Experienced Swiss international Johan Djourou, born in the Ivory Coast, says he feels lucky to have “escaped” playing for an African nation, even if he feels strong roots in the land of his birth.
“When you are in Africa there are a lot more difficulties and I was lucky enough to escape that. Other players like [Ivory Coast internationals] Emmanuel Eboué and Kolo Touré have made it through there but when you are European you have more options.”
Not all players born in Europe have opted to represent countries from that continent though. The likes of Borussia Dortmund star Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang (Gabon), Yannick Bolasie (DRC) and the toast of European football, Leicester City playmaker Riyad Mahrez (Algeria), have all chosen to represent the land of their parents despite being born outside of those countries.

Born Here  playing there

If you have travelled across Africa, you will attest that there is a war between optimism and pessimism. If you look closely, there is a high level of pessimism on the continent. Africans are people who believe in fate; often subject to our situations, than our situations subject to us.
There needs to be a balance between optimism and pessimism, but not so that you only get realism. If this world only had realists, humanity would not have advanced. Realists base their judgments mainly on what has already been proven.
Optimists tend to have too much energy, particularly in the early stages of conceiving an idea, and overlook what could go south. The key here is to realize when your vision does not cost you anything; if so, you are day dreaming.
I will admit, this world was and is built mostly by optimists, the ones who saw something when everyone else saw nothing. This is important because if you can see the invisible, you can do the impossible.
Nevertheless, realists, despite sometimes being negative,  have anchored our society and are often our voice of reason.
As an entrepreneur, you will realize that potential investors are your voice of reason, particularly banks. When you, as an entrepreneur, approach investors excitedly about your business idea, they have a way of making you get in touch with reality by viewing your presentation with x-ray goggles.
I want to touch on the pessimistic bias among some African entrepreneurs, and how we can both confront it and conquer it. It is also important to mention that we have a large number of optimistic entrepreneurs on the continent, especially since Africa is the latest economic frontier for major growth, following on from China and India.
Some might ask whether this pessimistic behavior is part of the nature versus nurture debate. You might notice that a few African entrepreneurs settle for mediocracy, while our Asian, American and European counterparts strive to be the best.
Could it be that you cannot dream to rise above what you are exposed to? Entrepreneurs around the world may have more role models than we do, but we are as capable as any of them.
My concern is that the pessimism is blocking us; we need to stop it once and for all. Let’s follow the example set by some of the shining African stars in business, such as Folorunsho Alakija, Aliko Dangote, Elon Musk, and Mohammed Dewji, among others.
As we embrace optimism, we need to also be careful of blind optimism. You cannot only consider the upside without having counter measures to still succeed if your original plans do not work.
Therefore, a major dosage of optimism, mixed with a dash of realism, is necessary for any African entrepreneur. There is no place for pessimism.
There is a saying I am fond of: while the optimist was arguing that the glass was half full and the pessimist was saying it was half empty, the entrepreneur sold the glass.
So, what needs to be done? We must make sure we use the right metrics to measure our business. This will make it easier to achieve the desired results, not leaving anything to luck or fate. We need to be persistent and implement the right strategies until things start to happen.
Most importantly, African entrepreneurs need to understand that victories don’t come by accident.

mohammed-dewji

See The African Glass As Half Full

There is a distinct difference between tax evasion and avoidance – the latter is a legal form of arranging one’s financial and other assets in such a way as to reduce one’s tax liability. Though it is a perfectly legal practise it is often not considered moral. Tax evasion is illegal and unethical.
Tax mitigation on the other hand is a more aggressive approach to tax avoidance that falls within a grey area of tax avoidance and tax evasion. Tax experts estimate that, over the past 20 years, tax mitigation schemes have been used to transfer trillions of dollars into tax havens. The leak of the Panama Papers has brought tax mitigation under the spotlight and whether there is a need for tax authorities throughout the world to come together to create legal certainty around the issue.
Around the world, private companies and individuals devise creative ways to reduce their tax liability in a bid to minimize what they think is an excess tax burden. They do this by studying the tax laws of that particular region and finding loopholes to exploit. Thus, tax avoidance is becoming increasingly prevalent in South Africa as more and more individuals move up the income ladder – primarily among the growing black middle class. These individuals are realizing that marginal tax increases come with moving up several income tax brackets, this apparently is giving rise to more tax avoidance schemes.
In many countries, the avoidance of personal income tax is more common among the more affluent individuals who have access to professional services such as tax law practitioners and private bankers.
Is it fair that wealthy people have the ability to circumvent the true cost of their tax liability when the same luxury isn’t available to the working class majority? The so-called rich will argue that it is fair because of the progressive personal income tax system South Africa employs, which has one of the highest income tax rates in the world. Whether or not they are justified in this view is contentious and often depends on one’s income bracket or social class. On the other hand, the progressive tax system had to be addressed due to the levels of income in South Africa being vastly skewed.
One concern, often not raised in the tax debate, is the blatant lack of accountability of the government when it comes to the blatant and intolerable waste of public revenue through pervasive corrupt behavior. I view these actions by government as an indirect contributor to tax avoidance schemes. Subconsciously, many are asking themselves: “Why should I be paying excessively high taxes if government perpetually squanders public funds?” And this is just one of the reasons people employ tax consultants to explore creative ways of reducing their income tax.
Can you blame them? I am not entirely sure. If I was taxed at a marginal tax rate of 41% of my income above the highest personal income threshold, I too would consider the possibility of reducing my tax liability – within the provisions of the law of course.
Going forward, I think that reducing government wastage could have a positive impact on the willingness of the rich to pay their full tax liability without apprehension. You never know, stranger things have happened.

Should Tax Avoidance Be Legal?

The sixth edition of the Credit Suisse Global Wealth Report 2015 offers a portrait of the world’s wealth. Besides affirming that global inequality has grown, the study had some interesting findings about the regions it covered, especially in Africa. Since 2000, the rate of growth of millionaires in Africa was faster than the global average, by a factor of four to 126,000 behind only India and China, which grew to 185,000 and 1.3 million millionaires respectively. The findings are supported by a similar report by Capgemini and RBC Wealth Management. In World Wealth Report 2015, Africans with at least $1 million of investable assets are reported to have climbed to 150,000 in 2014, up by 5.2%, while their combined wealth increased by 7% to $1.44 trillion.
Between 2000 and 2015, the Credit Suisse report noted that the wealth of those above the lower-middle-class threshold in Africa had grown by 140% compared to a global average of 113%. It states that adults with wealth beyond the middle class threshold accounted for a further $793 billion, bringing the total wealth of the middle class and beyond to $1.6 trillion, or 0.7% of global wealth. Such detailed and insightful revelations are rare. More importantly, they suggest that the continent’s recent gains are not a myth. Africa rising is real.
That said, the emerging wealth comes with the need for good advice. For that reason, I believe the time is now for private banking, wealth management and asset management in Africa. Although it is less understood than traditional methods of investing, wealth managers should prepare to deliver guidance to these freshly minted high-net-worth individuals (HNWIs). This is necessary. As the proverb says: Wisdom is a shelter as money is a shelter. Well, wisdom and knowledge will be needed. The opportunity is for wealth managers to serve as trusted investment advisors and as educators.
Just as important, these advisors will provide guidance on meaningful social impact activities, like giving back to society and creating entrepreneurial opportunities. This is vital in Africa where wealth inequality is so high. Credit Suisse reports that some Africans are among the top global wealth decile, and even among the top percentile. In fact, the region is more concentrated in the bottom end of the global wealth spectrum, with more than 40% of African adults belonging to the two lowest global wealth deciles. Seychelles, for instance, has a Gini index of 94.8 or near perfect inequality. Libya, South Africa, Botswana, Nigeria and Egypt are among the top 10 most unequal states in the region. In all, wealth managers have a critical role to play.
It is critical that policymakers fast track legislation allowing African funds to invest across the continent, as a means to provide investment channels for African wealth managers spread the risk. There is urgent need to deepen the roughly 30 recognized stock exchanges in the region for HNWIs to gain local financial markets exposure. In the past, Africa’s HNWIs dealt with bankers in New York, the Channel Islands, Geneva or London and invested abroad. This is likely to change soon. It is good to note that some international operators have already seen the opportunity. Specialist wealth managers, such as Pictet Asset Management and UBS, are notable examples. Locally, firms such as Stanlib and Ecobank are leading the way.
There is no doubt that significant wealth creation has occurred in Africa. This is a new dawn, wealth managers need to dump the pessimism and jump in.

Africa’s Rise Is Not  A Myth

Most of Africa is currently engulfed in an energy emergency.
For a continent blessed with some of the largest power generating potential in the world, it’s an ironic tragedy, at par with any epidemic Africans have ever experienced. As things stand, the prospects for prosperity are bleak.
This has been Africa’s sour story for too long. Without power, social and intellectual fecundity and creativity is hobbled; innovation, doomed. From Cape Town through Calabar to Casablanca and Cairo, failed power projects litter the land. Africa now reportedly generates less power than many European nations.
In view of the contending economic, ecological and social priorities, Africa’s humungous power deficit must now be viewed as a crisis, and an opportunity. A crisis in desperate need of modern energy solutions, fresh investments and political will. This variegated mindset is essential if Africa is to find its way out of the dark maze.
The use of off-grid, renewable technologies, for instance, will attenuate some of the darkness, create opportunities to increase agricultural productivity, improve Africa’s resilience to climate change, and contribute to long-term reductions in dangerous carbon emissions across the African landscape.
At stake is the global relevance, social progress and economic productivity of Africa’s nearly 1 billion people. Universal access to power is the goal. But how do you measure the compounded return on development initiatives brought about by lighting up an entire city or village? Experts say an estimated $850 billion will be required to achieve universal power access for Africa by 2030.
Depending on which book you’re reading, between 1 billion and 1.5 billion people lack access to modern forms of electricity worldwide, and three billion cook on smoky, soot-stained stoves and outdoor fires. Chances are (no marks for guessing) many of these folks are in Africa.
Analysts at McKinsey &amp; Co. say Africa has 13% of the world’s population, but 48% of the share of the global population without electricity. The only other region with a similar imbalance is South Asia, with 23% of the world’s population and 34% of the people without access to electricity.
Only seven countries in Africa – Cameroon, Côte d’Ivoire, Gabon, Ghana, Namibia, Senegal and South Africa – have electricity access rates exceeding 50%.
The International Energy Agency (IEA) says 55% of Nigerians, 70% of Ivorians, 76% of Ethiopians and 85% of residents of the Democratic Republic of Congo do not have access to electricity. A 2015 report by the Africa Progress Panel, People, Power, Planet, confirms this dark reality: 621 million Africans have no access to electricity. That’s two out of every three Africans.
The report warns that global demand for modern energy is set to surge, fueled by economic growth, demographic change and urbanization. “As the costs of low-carbon energy fall, Africa could leapfrog into a new era of power generation. Utility reforms, new technologies and new business models could be as transformative in energy as the mobile phone has been in telecommunications.”
The World Bank says Africa’s power consumption, at 124 kilowatt-hours per capita per year and falling, is only a tenth of that found elsewhere in the developing world, barely enough to power one 100-watt light bulb per person for three hours a day.
Thankfully, Africa does not suffer from a dearth of energy resources. Kenya is currently ranked the seventh-highest producer of geothermal power globally, as the second phase of the Olkaria geothermal plant comes on stream.
South Africa’s Medupi power station, the fourth largest coal plant in the southern hemisphere, recently received a $2.1 billion loan from the African Development Bank (AfDB).
Morocco, Africa’s poster child for clean energy, spends over $3 billion annually on fuel and electricity imports. The country aims to generate 42% of its energy from renewable sources by 2020.
Most multinationals and manufacturing firms in Nigeria disengaged from the national grid years ago. Investing in captive power plants to remain competitive, they now generate about 1,600MW of power off-grid.
Power firms, like Cummins Incorporated and Clarke Energy, working with General Electirc and local players like CET Power, are mostly behind these efforts, designing, constructing, operating as well as maintaining gas-fueled power plants across the country.
Power proposals for Africa abound. We have the Britain’s Energy Africa, United States President Barack Obama’s Power Africa and the AfDB’s New Deal on Energy.
We now need to switch on these plans.

Power, Pain  And Progress

It’s a simple question. Why did you choose the car you are driving right now?
Well, you probably thought about what you want to use it for. A Mercedes Benz CLA would not be a great choice to negotiate the Baster Voetslaan Pass in the Eastern Cape.
But the opposite doesn’t always seem to apply where the most rugged 4x4s are piloted by the fairer sex on the school run and, in the most extreme situations, to mount Sandton sidewalks.
And you may be severely limited by the health of your bank balance in this ailing economy, where even the well-priced Maserati Ghibli may be out of reach.
So here is one of the main factors motivating your decision – styling.
According to international market research company, JD Power, styling is one of the biggest reasons customers select their chosen wheels from the showroom floor.
A surprising number of potential buyers will even walk away from their favorite model if it doesn’t come in the color they want! And that’s after surveying tens of thousands of new vehicle owners about their final verdict.
Sure the number-one selling point is reliability&#8230; not only of the engine and drive chain, but of the infotainment system.
But is there any clear leader of reliability in the premium luxury segment where the Teutonic trio seem to offer similar standards of highly advanced engineering?
With this background of new age selling points there are signs that Mercedes are not only winning on the Formula One track but are also more racy in the Style Wars.
The design philosophy for the past eight years has been “sensual purity”. It is the concept of Gorden Wagener and the driving force behind his international design team who are responsible for all brands and products within Daimler AG.
“The key is not to make it right for everyone. The key for any luxury brand is keeping design authentic, and true to its roots,” says the man who worked as an exterior designer for Volkswagen, Mazda and General Motors.
“You also have to be way ahead of your time. We’re already thinking of the next decade from 2020 to 2030. This isn’t about asking what things will be like. It’s about creating the future.”
You don’t have to look too far for examples. The new C-Class Coupé demonstrates how far the Wagener team will go to embody that “sensual purity”.
The word coupé is often an excuse for leaving out a couple of doors and removing the window frames. But this is a total redesign with flowing lines that are captivating to say the least.
Wider, longer and lower, the coupé provides a striking and sporty silhouette. Gently dropping from the imposing trademark Merc front end, through more muscular shoulders, to the totally refashioned rear, which has been inspired by the S-Class Coupé.
The effect is enhanced by the wide, horizontal tail lights and the tailpipes nestling in the bumper.
The trade-off, as with the CLA, is headroom in the back seats. Six-foot passengers riding to Cape Town may not feel the love.
Upfront you will drive in encapsulated splendor – the seats are especially supportive and the trendy controls and trim are highlighted in silver chrome.
I sometimes wonder if it is not time for a quiet revolution with car interiors with a more logical and minimalist approach to controls.
A car that may be leading the way in a new approach is the Audi TTS. You want to change the ventilation flow? Well the controls are on the air ducts! And there is no pop-up screen requiring a sideways glance for your navigation. It is squarely displayed in front of you on the instrument cluster between the rev counter and speedo.
But the ever expanding Mercedes stable (there are more than 40 models on offer) is focusing on the stars above right now.
Last year was the “Year of the SUV”… now they are raising the roof in the “Year of Open Top Driving.”
The C-Class Cabriolet hits the local market in October and I can already visualize the smooth operators of the Cape snaking past Clifton beaches at the wheel of this ultra stylish multilayer soft-top. It certainly was one of the star attractions at the Geneva Show.
And you can even enjoy open-air driving on brisk mornings thanks to the standard Airscarf system that blows warm air through the headrests and the Aircap wind deflector that rises from the windshield frame to counter the Cape Doctor.
But hold on to your wallet. There is also an S-Class Cabrio on the horizon which will be the first open-top luxury four-seater from Merc since 1971.
Before the cabriolets hit South African roads, there is the imminent arrival of two stellar roadsters. The legendary SL is back with a curve tilting function that will definitely handle the bends and to coincide with its 20-year anniversary, the SLK is to be relaunched with a new name, the SLC, along with enhanced looks and dynamics.
Mercedes-Benz are not just keeping the new models flowing into the country. They are one of seven manufacturers who invest heavily in the economy and employ around 5,000 staff.
“Our business model positions us as a net exporter, with approximately 90 percent of all local C-Class production units exported to more than 80 markets globally,” says Executive Director, Florian Seidler.
“As such, we are well positioned to manage currency and global market volatility.”
“We are expecting a subdued economic cycle ahead which will be countered with a continued product offensive with new products to meet the needs of our customers,” says Seidler.
Looking at the open-tops waiting to be unleashed and the tenth-generation E-Class waiting in the wings, that could be a massive understatement.

Stylin’

In Luanda, Angola’s capital, a group of teenage girls sit together, chatting and giggling. They are excited to share in the parties marking 40 years since their country’s independence. One member is especially jubilant, celebrating a double victory. Earlier that year, Catarina Serra joined a team in Portugal for Angola’s first ever international showjumping tournament, bringing back a silver medal and a heightened sense of national pride.
“Portugal was the highlight… showjumping fascinates me and I always intended to pursue it as a career,” says the 18-year-old Serra, exhibiting a determination belying her age.
Showjumping is an Olympic sport, judged according to a rider’s ability to clear obstacles in the shortest time possible. While participants are not judged for style, it is widely seen as one of the most stylish sports in the world, attracting luxury brand sponsors and a jet-set elite from across the globe. While the sport may appeal to those seeking glamour and excitement, in practice it requires dedication, strength, stamina, balance, as well as empathy with and control of the horse.
Angolan riders must train regularly, face internal competitions at least once a month and are encouraged to take part in at least three regional competitions each year. While her friends enjoy leisurely weekends at the beach or the mall, Serra starts her weekends at 7.30AM, taking the traffic-logged journey to the riding school. Here she tacks up her horse, begins training, showers her down, and then starts all over with another mare.
“It is hard to balance riding, school, family, friends…” she huffs as she runs from one stable to another.
Showjumping began in France and Britain in the 18th century but is very new to Angola, where riding itself can only be traced back to the 1950s. It was then that horses were used for combat purposes by the Portuguese colonial forces against guerrillas in the Angolan War of Independence. These cavalry units, known as the Dragöes de Angola, benefited from a better view of the battlefield above the tall grass. They also held a psychological advantage over their enemy who were unaccustomed to dealing with soldiers on horseback. Since independence, Angola’s cavalry forces were expanded and the mounted unit remains an integral and highly-regarded part of the national police force. Horses were first imported from South Africa, and later from Argentina. The former Minister of Petroleum, Desidério Costa, boosted the equestrian movement further by importing the first Lusitano breed from Portugal and setting up the first riding school after independence.
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This school, Gimunalu, on the outskirts of Luanda, remains one of the top training grounds for athletes today, featuring a stadium and a riding school with a covered ring and jumping arena. It also houses a 42-box stable yard, accommodation for the riders, and several fields. In addition, a specialist hippotherapy center provides rehabilitation for people affected by motor, sensory and mental disorders through interdisciplinary training with the horses. Meanwhile, the Huila riding center at Lubango, born out of the dust in 2013, now boasts a three-hectare field, five paddocks, a 34-stable yard, three training rings, as well as accommodation and event rooms.
A mostly rural country, with many farms and a predominantly young population, Angola is now seizing the opportunity to become a major player worldwide. In 2009, it set up its own national federation for equestrian sports, Fequangola. In 2014, it was accepted into the Fédération Equestre Internationale (FEI), the top governing body for equestrian competitions, and in 2015 it sent a team to compete in Portugal at a Grand Prix tour, the highest level of showjumping competition. In the same year, in line with the leading governing body which oversees the breeding of competitive dressage and showjumping horses, it also began its first insemination program for a local line of specialist horses.
It’s an expensive business. Contrast this with Angola’s extreme poverty and one would be forgiven for thinking that its foray into equestrian sports comes at a shameful expense. However, unlike many countries where the sport is traditionally reserved for the affluent, Angola is keen to utilize the sport as a lifeline for the disadvantaged. The mounted police unit gives free riding lessons to children of all staff, while Gimunalu also offers free lessons to stable grooms, relatives of farmers, as well as top students from the neighboring school. FEI Solidarity, a global program to support the next generation of riders, is also being implemented in Angola.
“[Showjumping] is a means to give some hope to children of a poorer background and have them practice this wonderful sport. I just love to see the smiles on their faces when they sit on horseback for the very first time,” says Fequangola Vice President for Foreign Affairs, Ginga d’Almeida.
Considering the slump in oil prices and its need to diversify the economy, Angola’s focus on equestrian sports is also pragmatic. Equestrian sport is just one of several areas targeted for creating jobs and boosting economic growth. The nation aims to attract foreign direct investment through the sale of its showjumping bloodstock to neighboring countries, as well as to boost tourism through top-class riding schools and international competitions.
Unsurprisingly, showjumping is being taken very seriously at the upper echelons of government, with President Jose Eduardo dos Santos attending the first competition held in the country in 2009. Other African nations are providing ample competition, with the FEI now boasting 14 members across the continent. Angola will be focusing on jumping in particular over the coming years, working closely with the FEI, neighboring national federations and the African Confederation of Equestrian Sports.
“I personally intend to pursue efforts… for Angola to become the most equestrian nation in southwest Africa,” says d’Almeida with a determined smile.
Sadly, the fall in oil prices and global economic recession has forced the country to tighten its belt, and the lack of funds is proving a higher obstacle than the jumps themselves. If Angola is to maintain momentum in the world of showjumping, it will need private sponsorship. Top-notch trainers, qualified veterinary surgeons and horse medicine are not readily found within the country and come at a huge cost. Add to this the maintenance of the riding schools, entry fees into international competitions, along with the logistics of getting the team there in the first place, and the costs spiral. For this reason Angola will not be competing at this year’s Olympics in Brazil.
“Unfortunately riding is an expensive sport so we need to find sponsors so we can better finance our activities. I trust that, with time, people will understand this sport better and support us more,” says d’Almeida.
While Angola faces many challenges, it holds a promising future. Serra has her eye on a particular prize.
“I would be very pleased if one day I could get to the World Equestrian Games and maybe, who knows, the Olympics,” she says.
FEI Secretary General Sabrina Ibáñez says that this is not such a distant dream.
“This is a real possibility for Angola looking towards Tokyo 2020 and beyond,” she says.
All the more reason for a double celebration at the country’s 50th independence anniversary.

The Showjumpers   Of Angola

When a veteran American comedian and actor Jon Stewart retired as the anchor of The Daily Show late in 2015, after 16 years at the helm, his producers scrambled to offer the job to everyone from Chris Rock to Amy Schumer. They settled on the fresh face from South Africa, with an unusual accent, to dissect and satirize the complex United States political scene as it heads for this year’s elections.
Months before the first show went to air, on September 28, American journalists were skeptical. They didn’t believe Trevor Noah could fill Stewart’s shoes in a show that once captured 3.57 million viewers when Barack Obama breezed through on the cusp of his 2008 election victory.
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Bad reviews followed and Noah’s viewership has fallen compared to the days of Stewart. Seven months on, before a press gathering on set, to mark his 100th show, the 32-year-old from Soweto is unfazed.
“It makes sense to me, if my ratings weren’t down I would be offended on behalf of Jon Stewart. It would make sense that people are going to see the king on his way out, when you’re building a new legacy you need to do exactly that. That means building on a new legacy. Television as a whole is down in America. The biggest thing you have to acknowledge is that there are multiple streams of viewership that are happening now,” says Noah.
Despite the drop in popularity among American viewers – the Nielsen ratings report a 37% decline – it broadcasts to 170 countries, compared to 163 when Noah took over.
“These ratings aren’t disastrous, but considering that politics are the bread and butter of late night television, Noah’s numbers are disappointing. Given this preposterous election season, the material practically writes itself. In Jon Stewart’s 2011-2012 season, his nightly average was 1.7 million viewers,” says Hayley Cuccinello a New York-based TV critic.
The show also generates an average of 67 million monthly streams across digital platforms, in 2016, up 22% against 2015.
Noah says the rise of the web is changing people’s viewing habits as millennials switch from television to the internet. His critics agree that these millennials are supporting Noah.
“I like Trevor’s show, I think his take is unique and he is not necessarily copying Jon Stewart. He is kind of doing his own style, maybe a little bit more humorous and characterizations. He is inspired by Jon but he is not just doing imitation of him. The brand of The Daily Show itself is enough to get people interested, especially online, I think Trevor is doing a good thing with social media. I personally don’t watch it on TV a lot but watch it on Facebook and YouTube clips, so I think social media has helped him reach out to people, not necessarily on TV, he has to branch out on other outlets,” says 24-year-old Nader Salem, from New Jersey.
Indeed, the audience at Noah’s 100th show on April 28, in Manhattan, had many people from afar. There were a number of South Africans, supporting their own, including the South African Broadcasting Corporation correspondent in New York, Sherwin Bryce-Pease, and Sunday Times’ entertainment writer Azizzar Mosupi, who flew in for the show.
“We are SAA (South African Airways) employees. It is mandatory for every African in New York to make time for the show. We love Trevor. He is an inspiration to every African child. He is the living proof anything is possible,” says Zanda Setlaleleng.
“I watched Jon Stewart and I have been watching Trevor Noah as well, I didn’t realize today is the 100th show, I am glad I am here tonight. Trevor is very different from Jon but pretty great too. He has a very different view of things that I think people can learn from. I appreciate his sense of humor. Hundredth show on my birthday, there you go,” says Fiona Charlton, a visitor to New York from Britain.
On the night of the show, Noah ran to the stage, fired up, in a black tailored suit and tie. He made the house rules clear to the cheering audience: “This thing is like a sex tape – people watch to get off on seeing both people having a good time… So, you have to give me your all because I am going to give you mine.”
Noah prides himself in a diverse team of scriptwriters who advise him on issues of religion, nationality and gender.
“There’s nothing off limits, it’s just what are you trying to do with a joke. Even before The Daily Show I always liked jokes that bring people together, and jokes that build the nation. In South Africa I made jokes about the president, to his face, for many years. He knows me, people in Parliament know me. That never stopped me from engaging with them and them engaging with me. There’s an implicit understanding. The worst thing that can happen is when somebody takes your joke to hurt another person or group when you didn’t intend to do that.”
Noah stepped into the comedy scene through a dare. In the early 2000s, he was a regular at the comedy clubs in Johannesburg. One night the host called for newcomers to take the microphone, his drunk friends pushed Noah on stage.
That night, Noah slayed them in the aisles and never looked back. In a few years, he would become the country’s favorite comedian, playing to packed houses, and the host of Tonight With Trevor Noah on M-Net across Africa.
Noah says South Africa will always be home and he keeps tabs on the political scene. He is not eligible to vote in the US elections he comments on nightly, but on August 3 he will be one of many South Africans casting their vote at the embassy in New York for in the municipal elections back home.
“Over the years travelling, performing comedy all over the world and now doing The Daily Show, I have learned if you stay true to yourself and if you are proud of who you are and where you come from, that in itself becomes the mantle. I love telling jokes about South Africa and Africa, I will go for the disparaging comments that people think are stereotypes of the continent. I myself, in many ways, a complete juxtapose of what people think of the continent. I am a South African, you can smell it on me,” he says.
Noah grew up crammed into a small house in Soweto, where he shared a room with his stepbrothers and cousins where he peed in a bucket in the mornings. His mother, a Xhosa woman, had a child with his father, a Swiss-German, which was against the law in apartheid days. Noah recalls his mother had to dress like a domestic worker and his father had to walk on the other side of the street to avoid the attention of police on family outings.
“I was born a crime,” Noah often joked.
Whatever the ratings say, it is clear Noah intends to joke through the storm. As a fellow African in New York I put my money on him having the last laugh at the expense of his detractors.

“I Am A South African, You Can Smell It On Me”

Standing in a long queue of pedestrians in Surulere on the mainland of Lagos, Nigeria, Austin Somefun is waiting for an okada (motorcycle taxi). He is on his way to view a new flat for his family, which currently stands at five children and two wives.
“My second wife just had her third child and so we need a bigger space. I have been looking at properties all week but so far, I have not found the right size for my family,” says Somefun.
He is part of the growing population in a country, which according to Reuters, will increase from 188 million to 300 million people by 2030.
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“Population explosion definitely creates a demand for residential property. The Lagos State commissioner for budget and planning estimates that Lagos alone needs to spend $50 billion in the next couple of years to keep up with the 23 million residents in the state and a significant amount of that budget will go towards housing,” says Steven Brown, an economist working with Britain-based Integra Consulting.
According to the Real Estate Developer’s Agency of Nigeria, the country is lacking about 17 million houses with about 60-70% living in slums and informal settlements. The Centre for Affordable Housing and Finance in Africa, estimates that 700,000 more homes are needed each year to keep pace with the population explosion.
Kennedy Okonkwo is founder of Nedcomoaks, an indigenous real estate company vying for this growing market. The company focuses on Nigeria’s middle class who, according to Okonkwo, is underserved. Okonkwo had a brief stint in the IT and human resources sector before a missed opportunity changed his life.
“I was working as a strategic adviser for a company and my part time job in real estate had a deal that was worth N18 million ($90,000). The deal meant I was going to provide accommodation for expatriates and the company issuing the contract was waiting for me to come and see them but I was busy doing a strategy session so I lost the deal to a competitor. I said to myself it’s time to focus on the property business and I resigned from the job,” says Okonkwo.
His love affair with bricks and mortar began when he brokered his first deal as an estate agent worth N260,000 ($1,300). Okonkwo started from scratch; scraping together money for construction while selling Hawes &amp; Curtis shirts to tide him over.
“The landowners had signed over the land for 30 years and most of the families did not have money to build on the land and time was running out. So I approached them and got the land on leases. I got about 22 of them and started building four units of room and parlour self contains and doing resettlement schemes,” says Okonkwo.
Things were looking up for Okonkwo until the global recession hit him in 2008. Most of his clients who invested in the properties could no longer afford the monthly repayments and the banks clamped down on all credit to business. Luckily for Okonkwo, he secured a loan of N100,000,000 ($500,000), which added to the company’s working capital and proved a lifeline.
“Initially, we would look for money to develop one property and once we sold that, we would build three more properties because we would market and get other people to buy more. Once we got the loan from the bank, we were able to expand very rapidly.”
Part of the Nedcomoaks property portfolio is a 92-unit construction of three-bedroom terraces and a new build of 28 units of four-bedroom houses with average prices for his developments at N25 million ($125,000).
Similar to Brown, Okonkwo believes there are massive opportunities within the property market in Nigeria. The Nigerian property sector is valued at $39 billion according to a recent report by CBO Capital, an investment advisory firm based in Lagos.
“I went into the property business because I felt there is a real need for it. For everybody, when you look at your needs, it’s probably food first and then you think of shelter. So there is no way anybody that is providing shelter will get it wrong. I think there are enormous opportunities to tap into in the Nigerian property market today and the reputation of the developer matters a whole lot,” says Okonkwo.
The industry still has a long way to go to satisfy the growing demand. Like everywhere in Nigeria, the foreign exchange (FX) restrictions in the country have hit the property market.
“In the operational aspect of construction, it has a tendency to drive up the cost of the construction because most of the finishing materials are imported and so the restrictions of FX make it difficult to import these goods which drives up the price. On the other hand, a property that was selling at $150,000 can now go for $100,000 if the person has FX, so for these people, there is a higher advantage,” says Okonkwo.
As Africa’s largest economy continues to grow, Okonkwo is gearing up to be the go-to property developer for the growing middle class, one home at a time.

The Miss That Led To  A bullseye

In Franschhoek, a village near South Africa’s Western Cape with 17th-century charm and postcard views of the Drakenstein Mountains, is L’Ormarins, a 3,200-acre estate belonging to Johann Rupert; it’s the largest part of Anthonij Rupert Wyne, the South African billionaire’s wine empire. Driving past a Rodin sculpture in the garden and equally statuesque stallions on the lawns, he arrives at the property early one February morning in a jovial mood, the harvest season under way. His comfortably appointed study is in one of the property’s newer buildings, its red wine cellar designed to resemble the inner workings of a watch (an appropriate metaphor for Rupert, who built his fortune as chairman of Richemont, the Swiss luxury goods and jewelry company with such brands as Cartier, Van Cleef &amp; Arpels and Piaget).
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The 65-year-old Rupert belongs to that substratum of the stratospherically wealthy for whom silence is considered platinum. He rarely gives interviews but is undeniably garrulous when the conversation is about wine. Visible through the study’s windows are rows of Chenin Blanc, a popular varietal in South Africa that rivals the Loire Valley’s.
“Chenin Blanc is a wine that, if properly handled, is a really nice drinking wine,” says Rupert, deeply tanned and smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes. With a net worth of nearly $6 billion, he has never underestimated the value of a good customer. “I look at people, and I would say there are sippers and there are drinkers. People who stir a salad around and sip a bit of Sauvignon Blanc are probably the same people who in the past would drink spritzers. They’re not wine drinkers, and I’m not in that business. I want people who love wine.”
In leading both Richemont and his winemaker, Rupert innately understands the competition to capture discerning customers. Many wealthy men have been known to buy wineries as markers of success, much in the way they purchase sports teams or movie studios. What the trophy-vineyard set lacks and Rupert possesses is an intimate connection to his grapes: Winemaking is far more than an expensive hobby – it’s deeply personal. The original owner of Anthonij Rupert Wyne was his younger brother, Anthonij, who, in 2001, at age 50, died in a car crash. “He was my best friend,” says Rupert, “and I wanted to finish his dream.”
Eager to bring his brother’s vision to its full fruition, Rupert has substantially expanded the winemaking operations, adding hundreds of acres of vineyards farther north and to the west – and next door, too, after purchasing land from Graham Beck, whose sparkling wine was reportedly used at both Nelson Mandela’s and Barack Obama’s inaugurations. Visitors to L’Ormarins and other nearby wineries typically stay in one of the country hotels in Franschhoek; the luxe La Residence, starting at $530 a night, is the best of the bunch. Close to L’Ormarins, in neighboring Stellenbosch, is diamond billionaire Laurence Graff’s winery, the Delaire Graff Estate, which has ten lavish lodges, beginning at $800 a night. Nearby Babylonstoren, owned by billionaire Koos Bekker, costs a lot less (starting at $250) but is sumptuous, too.
To reach a broad international clientele, Rupert has insisted on exporting his goods in climate-controlled containers, a change from the usual shipping method a slow boat through varied temperatures that can alter a wine’s character. And among his winery’s new offerings is a line called Terra Del Capo, made from Italian vines, a tribute to Anthonij’s fondness for that country’s wines. More personally, he learned to accept that winemaking would never have the same level of predictability as, say, his watch business. “Once we’ve done our jobs properly,” he says of Richemont, “then we don’t have to worry about a drought, hail or some bug I’ve never heard of in my life. If you have any overconfidence, the wine industry will take that out of you quickly.” His estate’s greatest success fittingly carries his brother’s name: the Anthonij Rupert 2007, a Bordeaux-style blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Petit Verdot. (It’s also priced like a Bordeaux, at $100-plus.) The vintage scored a 95-point rating from the industry bible, Wine Spectator, in 2012 only the fifth South African wine to do so and is, naturally, hard to find these days.
A surprise hit was a 2005 Petit Verdot originally produced as part of a blend (in keeping with Bordeaux custom). In its early stages it was powerfully tannic, but once left to age it improved immensely. Rupert’s staff decided to bottle and sell it as a stand-alone wine but didn’t consult with their boss. He wasn’t disappointed.
“People went crazy for it,” he says. “True wine lovers discovered it.” A French acquaintance tried a bottle and took a case to France to share among friends in the industry. “They said, ‘It’s not possible!’ They couldn’t believe it. Guess what? We’re starting to make it again this year, and we’re going to plant some more.”
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Rupert also enjoys a prosperous partnership with Baron Benjamin de Rothschild originally forged by Anthonij; Rupert &amp; Rothschild wines include the highly rated Baroness Nadine Chardonnay. As for the billing on the bottle, Rupert recalls the baron saying simply that it “sounds better than Rothschild &amp; Rupert.” What you won’t find Rupert making much of is Pinotage, South Africa’s signature variety, first developed about a century ago. To many winemakers the cross between Pinot Noir and Cinsaut (also known as Hermitage) is an unpalatable, barnyard-evoking wine. “I just don’t have an affinity for Pinotage,” he says. “I’ve said to my colleagues, ‘We’ve got to make wine that I like, because if I can’t sell it at least I can drink it.’”

Putting The Boer  Into Bordeaux

Friendships are sometimes forged in the most unlikely of circumstances. Against the backdrop of legalized racism, apartheid South Africa was one such circumstance. During its darkest years one could be forgiven when reading a “white” newspaper for thinking black people did not exist. And yet it was in this environment that Nelson Mandela and a young, promising, white journalist forged a friendship that would last a lifetime.
Benjamin Pogrund, 82, sits in his Jerusalem apartment, smiling. The veteran journalist and a pioneer of black reporting at the then all-white daily newspaper, the Rand Daily Mail, joined the press as a missionary which, he’s quick to admit, is a very bad thing for a journalist.
At the time, black South Africans were not featured in the mainstream press. There were some stories about court cases, riots or mine accidents where black people were mentioned but it was “crazy” how they were ignored, remembers Pogrund. He took it upon himself to change things.
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“Benjy Boy”, as Mandela called him, describes his success as being in the right place at the right time. He says the Rand Daily Mail was an awful paper when he joined, with a new editor, Laurence Gandar, who luckily had the same political views as Pogrund.
“He liked what I wanted to do, because I started covering black politics, which hadn’t been done before,” says Pogrund and a friendship between the junior reporter and senior editor soon flourished.
But covering black South African life meant being ostracized at work and in the Jewish community to which Pogrund belonged.
“I was dealing with an all-white paper,” he explains. “So I was like a cat being dragged in from the night, they hated me.”
At the time the Jewish community was split, between businessmen who surrendered to apartheid so their businesses would succeed, and liberals.
Soon Pogrund began covering everything from housing, education and jobs, to pass laws. And through the years he became a confidant for the leaders of black resistance, among them Mandela.
The two had countless secret meetings. While most of the police force would be out hunting for Mandela, he’d show up on a dark street corner disguised with worker’s overalls to meet Pogrund.
“His followers probably wanted to cut my throat, they probably thought I’d trapped him and I’d hand him over&#8230; but we got away with it,” he chuckles.
For Pogrund, it was Mandela’s generosity of spirit that always stood out. He sums it up with one specific story – Mandela called for a major strike against the government. The day came and the government issued a statement saying it had failed. The Rand Daily Mail ran with the headline “Strike Has Failed, Says Government,” without consulting Pogrund. The strike itself didn’t go as planned but it wasn’t the failure the government claimed it was. Hundreds of thousands of workers did stay home, but when they read the newspaper, a paper which they respected, they were scared of being dismissed, and went to work.
Pogrund remembers sitting in his office, feeling miserable, when his phone rang.
“And there’s Mandela’s warm, cheery voice, and I started stuttering an excuse, ‘Nelson, I’m sorry we screwed up’&#8230; He said to me, ‘It’s okay Benjy boy, I know it wasn’t your fault.’ I loved that man ever since.”
Pogrund and Mandela’s relationship extended beyond the clandestine meetings. While still in prison, Mandela insisted that Benjy Boy bring his second wife, Anne, for a visit. He even sent a card to their son Gideon for his bar mitzvah – a coming-of-age ceremony in Jewish tradition.
As for the Mandelas, Pogrund jokes that he was their Jewish uncle, telling how he helped Mandela’s daughter, Makaziwe, get into an American university.
“Over the years, now and again I’d go and visit her regularly, and she’d say to me, ‘please get my father off my back, he’s driving me crazy. He wants me to go to Harvard, I don’t want to go Harvard, I’m happy here at UMass Amherst!’’
Pogrund eventually found sanctuary in Britain where he worked on Fleet Street. From there he went to America and onwards to Israel to help build the Yakar Center for Social Concern. He’s been here almost two decades.
But ties with South Africa run deep and although he believes a lot has been accomplished, he is sad and angry by what hasn’t been.
“The country now has clean water and more access to healthcare, jobs, everything like that. Everything is better… but on the other hand, the failure is colossal.”
The reasons include government corruption, the heritage of apartheid and the currency. But most importantly &#8211; education.
“The majority of schools are described as dysfunctional, lacking ordinary toilets, electricity, blackboards, desks, books.”
Pogrund looks at how countries like Singapore, South Korea and Taiwan used education to come out of poverty, but says South Africa just isn’t getting there.
“There are a lot of people doing well. But the bottom people have it bad, and this carries over into people going to universities who shouldn’t be there&#8230; they haven’t achieved enough.”
And his beloved profession has become a disappointment.
“Under apartheid, we had some very committed, very good journalists. People didn’t sit around discussing press freedom, they just did it. They had a commitment, they got on with it. But whereas we were unable to exercise our full rights, now the opposite is true – and there isn’t the competence to do it.”
For a man of many words, there’s one thing he can’t get himself to talk about: Mandela’s last days. The laughter stops and sadness takes over; at times it’s even difficult to hear him.
“He had a miserable last couple of years. Miserable. It’s too personal.”
In the just over two years since Mandela passed away, Pogrund is more convinced than ever that the world desperately needs another Mandela.
“Israel is in a need of another Nelson Mandela, England is in need, every damn country is in need of a Nelson Mandela.”
Sadly, he is gone.

The White Knight Who Wrote Black

<h1>From Schoolboy To Rebel In A Month</h1>
<h6>Oupa Moloto is a little heavier and a lot wiser than 40 years ago when he ran riot in the streets of Soweto as a slender 19-year-old.</h6>
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It was a day Oupa Moloto never thought would end in fire and tears. The children had prepared a peaceful protest; they were excited, as well as angry. Moloto was one of the thousands of unhappy students who didn’t want to be taught in Afrikaans, a language they felt was oppressive and merely the gateway to menial jobs.
Moloto was at Morris Isaacson High School, in Jabavu, Soweto. He was part of the South African Students’ Movement (SASM), which followed black consciousness – the philosophy that inspired young people to take pride in their race.
Through it, Moloto took the first step on a path that would see him locked up in 16 prisons and end up as a guerrilla fighter in Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK), the military wing of the African National Congress (ANC).
On a winter morning, he met up with his schoolmates to plan the march. Members of SASM were pushing for tougher forms of protest, but the masses held sway. A peaceful march it was; they had never marched in their lives.
“It was going to be exciting,” laughs Moloto.
On Tuesday, June 15, 1976, SASM members spread the word around schools. That night they painted placards against the system and Afrikaans.
“On the day of the event, June 16, school started a little earlier, the mood was different, the students were excited but the teachers couldn’t pick it up,” he recalls.
Few teachers knew of the march. At Morris Isaacson, slim, light-skinned and bearded Tsietsi Mashinini, the SASM leader, spoke passionately for the march at the morning assembly. They prayed and marched singing: “Senzeni na? Senzeni na?” (What have we done? What have we done?).
Other schools had heard about the march and headed to Orlando West to meet up with the main body. Hector Pieterson was not meant to be part of the march, he saw his sister Antoinette and ran to join her. He was shot and bled to death; his image went around the world and epitomized the brutality of the day on which scores of schoolchildren died.
The police blocked the streets and released a snarling dog sending students running in panic. The girls screamed and the boys stoned the dog.
“I don’t know where the petrol came from, but it was poured on the dog to burn,” says Moloto.
With angry youths fighting and retreating, the students scattered; attacking government property and anything to do with the system. By this time, parents had joined in, says Moloto.
Amid the chaos, there were workers digging a trench for a cable, under the guard of a white boss with hands in pockets. When the angry teenage mob came, the man was thrown into the trench and made to dig, says Moloto. The terrified workers were made to stand and watch their white boss dig with their hands in their pockets.
The violence swept through Soweto and spread to the train stations, forcing drivers to avoid stopping. Soon there were no longer trains, says Moloto.
“In fact, I think hijackings started in 1976, if you come with a company car, you will be taken out the car and they will drive around and burn it.”
As the uprising raged, bystanders suffered. There was a welfare office, not far from Morris Isaacson High School, run by Dr Melville Edelstein, who was loved by the people.
“When we were marching, he was standing at the gate wearing a white dustcoat and was waving to students, they had a good relationship, but in the evening he was brutally killed because of the color of his skin. He was white,” says Moloto.
A white teacher at Morris Isaacson was luckier and airlifted to safety by police.
Moloto woke up the next day and walked to school. He saw petrol tanks burning; the looting was chaotic.
Then came the crackdown. Police arrested students and many went on the run.
“When we went back to school days after the violence, we were told most of the leadership was arrested,” he says.
The shattered schools of Soweto came together again for a peaceful protest in the heart of the economy, downtown Johannesburg, on August 2. It was the biggest protest by far, says Moloto, but no one was hurt.
“The demand was to release those that have been arrested,” he says.
The students changed strategy.
“We called for a national stay away, that we should be indoors, nobody will be shot,” says Moloto.
The students decided to hit back at the economy by stopping people from going to work. They blocked and burned buses. In a few short weeks, Moloto evolved from a high school child, in blazer and tie, to a rebel.
Today, Moloto owns taxis, and has shares in the Rea Vaya Bus Rapid Transit System. He runs a butchery in Soweto and is also the project coordinator of the June 16 Foundation. After all, it was a day that changed his life.
<div id="attachment_4915" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4915" class="size-medium wp-image-4915" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/GettyImages-88415897-300x206.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="206" />Young rioters surround a burning bus during the Soweto Uprising in Johannesburg, 17th June 1976. The riots were a reaction against the government&#8217;s repressive apartheid policies. (Photo by Popperfoto/Getty Images)</div>
<h1>“Light Show Me The Way, It’s Dark And The Road Is Far And Long”</h1>
<h6>Barney Mokgatle not only lost his innocence; 
he also lost his country.</h6>
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It was the very first shot that killed Hastings Ndlovu. That was when the wall of apartheid was cracked and it fell. If it wasn’t for that bullet, we wouldn’t have fought,” says Barney Mokgatle who was next to Ndlovu when he fell.
“Nobody can claim that Hector Pieterson was shot first.”
Mokgatle was the lieutenant to Tsietsi Mashinini who led the march in 1976. Mokgatle, looking younger than his peers, is now a senior member at church; he believes black consciousness is next to Godliness. He is also a member of the royal family at the Royal Bafokeng, near Rustenburg, in the North West province of South Africa.
Back in 1976 he was just another rebel in school uniform. When Ndlovu was killed, Mokgatle suggested the march be dispersed. Instead police descended on schools across Soweto looking for Mashinini; meanwhile Mokgatle was driving the wanted man around.
“Now the police were hunting us, we could not sleep in one place for two nights because there were people who were selling us out,” says Mokgatle.
Soweto activists Winnie Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, parents and principals pressurized Mashinini, Mokgatle and friend Selby Semela to leave the country. They argued that police wanted to kill them, rather than charge them, because in court they could attract public sympathy, he says. There was also a reward of R500 on their heads – a fortune in those days, enough to buy a new house.
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When they tried to leave, there were roadblocks everywhere on the way to Botswana, Mozambique and Swaziland. Mashinini and Mokgatle organized a second mass demonstration across the country that they believed could prove a diversion. The ruse worked.
“When they relaxed on the roads and borders, that’s when we slipped out. We went through the bushes at night and there was a song we sang on the way,” he recalls.
As Mokgatle sings, I could feel the emotion and see the anguish in his face 40 years on.
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“Sedi laka, mponesetse tsela
Ke tsamaye
Ho lefifi, hape ho sebaka
Ntsamaise…”
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In English: “Light show me the way,
It’s dark and the road is far and long,
But when I’m with you I’ve got power…”
When they slipped out of South Africa, they did not know the way to Botswana. Those who had organized their escape moved the rebellious youths from one village to another.
“It was a relay in that fashion, at night, through the bush,” he says. “We could hear the lions and elephants from a distance and we were not aware of the danger, we had no fear.”
They reached the Botswana border the following morning; as they stood on the border fence, about to jump, Mokgatle remembers saying “We shall return.”
In the capital, Gaborone, journalists awaited them.
“That’s how South African police knew that we had skipped the country because of what they had read in the media,” he says. There were attempts to kidnap them and bring them back to South Africa. They knew they couldn’t afford to stick around.
Through Tutu and the World Council of Churches, they organized tickets to fly to Holland. When they landed in Lusaka, Zambia, they did not have a visa for an overnight stay, so they switched to British Caledonian to fly straight on to Holland even though they had no travel documents when they landed in London en route.
“Because we didn’t have passports, that’s where the problems started, that’s where we had to change destination, we were arrested and detained at Gatwick airport,” he says.
Journalist Jon Blair, a South African living in England, helped by telling media houses that three Soweto uprising survivors were detained at Gatwick airport. Years later, Blair made the first British documentary about the 1976 uprising.
“The following morning it was like bees coming to the airport,” he says.
The African National Congress (ANC), the Anti-Apartheid Movement and the Pan African Congress (PAC) were all there. The ANC took them under their wing because they were the most powerful. The trio refused to join the party because they had different political ideas. The ANC walked away, says Mokgatle.
“We had to fend for ourselves and that’s when the Nigerian embassy in Botswana contacted us. We went to meet Nigerian head of state Olusegun Obasanjo,” he says.
The military ruler told them Nigeria would support them if they were a national body rather than regional. Hence they changed from the Soweto Student Representative Council to the South African Youth Revolutionary Council (SAYRCO). From there, they were independent of the ANC, with Nigerian backing.
The Soweto schoolboys Mashinini, Mokgatle and Semela were sent to different countries. Mashinini to Nigeria; Mokgatle stayed in England; Semela to the United States.
Mokgatle’s role was to talk about divestment in South Africa, trying to tell the world why they were fighting the oppressive system, as well as raising funds for scholarships for those who didn’t want military training.
“We were conscientizing the world,” he says.
Mashinini and Semela did the same in their allocated countries.
“Our struggle helped the country, it made the ANC and PAC wake up, they had to fight rigorously. To be honest, the ANC and PAC were not active before June 16, it’s only when we fought and struggled and became independent in London that they realized that these guys are going to take the limelight from them, they had to wake up and do something,” he says.
<div id="attachment_4916" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4916" class="size-medium wp-image-4916" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/GettyImages-102096119-300x224.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="224" />Demonstrators in the streets during the Soweto uprising, South Africa, 21st June 1976. (Photo by Keystone/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)</div>
Mashinini died in Guinea where he was treated like a son by former president Ahmed Sékou Touré. He was introduced by Miriam Makeba – a South African singer and human rights campaigner nicknamed Mama Africa. Mokgatle suggests Mashinini was murdered.
“I still say to the comrades that there needs to be an investigation done, because what killed Tsietsi, nobody would say. Except for the gashing wounds behind the head, next to the eyes, we could tell he was beaten, who killed Tsietsi and who bought those people. He did not die a natural death,” he says.
Makeba, who was in Brussels, broke the news to Mokgatle in England.
“Miriam called me and said Barney your brother is dead, he passed on last night,” he recalls.
He asked her for a ticket to Guinea so they can arrange to take Mashinini back to South Africa. She refused and told him to go to Zimbabwe to meet the body.
He met the body in Zimbabwe in early 1990, by this time Nelson Mandela was released and exiles could go home.
Mokgatle came home in 1992; Semela still lives in the United States.
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Tag: June 2016

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