Doing God's work in a Capitalist World

Every morning in the African bush there wakes a gazelle, looks at the morning sun and thinks, "How am I going to outrun the fastest lion?"

That same morning rises a lion, looks at the same sun and thinks, " Will I be able to outrun the slowest gazelle?"

This game plays out every day in the African Savannah. One of planning, survival, vision and more crucially 'implementation' by bringing to bear all the instincts of a survivor.

It's not merely about the fittest, it's about  the hungriest that determines the winner of this daily game of life and death.

Chief Oko is a winner.

By Nigerian standards, he is a dwarf of a man. All of 160 cm in his socks, the Chief is a powerhouse entrepreneur and a diminutive figure. He called me to his house for dinner with 20 of his colleagues.

The plush driveway in his home in not-so-plush Lagos was adorned with "him" and "her" Rolls Royces, along with the almost obligatory fleet of Range Rovers and couple of Porsches thrown in for good measure.

The Chief was hungry after a long day at work, and was in a hurry to eat. As we went in, there were wines thrown at us while the chief almost became a little boy prancing around the dining area. He was adjusting the plates and the servings, clearly with very practised hands and eyes on every little detail.

Then we sat down, at his bidding, to partake in the sumptuous Nigerian meal of grilled fish, chicken and hot goat meat pepper stew.

Midway through the meal, a little girl peeked out from a curtain and I made the first gaffe of the evening. I asked, "Is that your granddaughter looking for you?"

He looked back and with a perfunctory wave towards her asking her to join us, he looked back at me and said, "No it's my daughter, my last born." He then got up, served her food and brought her back to the table where he made her sit next to him.

No calling out to waiters and no favours asked for. It was as if all his trappings around him and the luxury that encircled him was for the others. For him, at that moment, he was just another doting parent and a proud father.

As he settled back again, he looked at me and said, "I started my family late, you know. I am a self-made man and my chieftainship was conferred on me; it wasn't not by birth," he said.

Sensing an opportunity to get to know him more, I made my second gaffe of the evening. I asked, "So chief, where did you go to college? The US?"

Pat came the answer, "I didn't finish high school." Ouch.

Then he shifted closer to me and in a hushed tone, probably trying to avoid showing any weakness to his people around him (or probably just to make me feel special), said: "My father died when I was two, I was sent to work in my uncle's chicken farm when I was seven and I started my first business when I was 16."

Thus started his story, a fairytale of sorts, except with no fairies or angels but a lot of thugs and villains, albeit with a happy ending.

Sent to work at seven and asked to stand by the street side (in Lagos, virtually everything gets sold during the traffic jams) to sell chicken, each at a price of seven nairas, our Chief figured out after a month or so that most if his customers were regulars.

That gave him an idea. Next to him was a guy selling lottery tickets to the same customers. So he devised his own lottery. He sold lottery tickets for chicken.

Yes that is correct.

He would sell tickets for three nairas each which meant for every three tickets he sold, he netted for himself two nairas as the customers were obviously happy to accept a 33 percent probability to get a chicken for less than half the price.

Makes sense?

The customer clearly found the gamble worth it: Even if he lost 3 nairas, he could still hope to get a chicken elsewhere at a price that was still affordable and this little game offered him to believe that he could get lucky too.

It suited his sense of adventure in a country where life was a gamble most times, living on the edge was standard and having a bit of  fun in the traffic jams and taxi is a way to escape the drudgery and the struggle to make a living.

Our unschooled Chief inadvertently and intuitively figured out what behavioural scientists concluded after years of research: That people will part with more in the hope of getting much more. And will stay in the game even when the chips are down, lest they liquidate their losses too early. Stuff around which global fund manages make a killing on their clients. Hedge funds, in particular, endorse this theory and exploit it to the hilt.

The Chief also proved that in markets such as these, trust was all that mattered and people trusted him enough to deliver on his lottery promise. Minus any regulations or regulators.

Over a period of six months, our Chief got his chickens to roost more and he had enough capital to go and buy a share in his uncle's business. Today, he told me, that little chicken farm is a full-fledged poultry company with a turnover of $3 million a month. "Not very big yet, but my favourite as that is where I learnt I could do it," he said, when I asked him about its expansion.

In a true professional way he dismissed the idea of going big with a simple poultry business. He had already figured out there was too much competition and risk in such businesses. "That's a business where you need to keep an eye on all the details. I had other things in mind," he said.

Homegrown wisdom on equity, business risks and opportunity costs, anyone?

So what was next?

Well he felt that with the oil boom and the Dutch curse that his country had fallen into, no focus was being given to the considerable mining and minerals assets that existed in the region. So quietly and surely he visited the East and brokered a few successful mining transactions.

That kind of put him in the big league with a few hundred millions in the kitty, a reputation of delivering and a penchant for finding invisible assets.

And then the godsend of all assets--properties.

Entrepreneurs across frontier markets have always had a keen eye for real estate. They have always believed in the intrinsic value of such assets and their ability to hedge against inflation while providing superlative returns in times of boom.

Chief was canny enough to sniff the fact that Nigeria, post the military regime, would see a sustainable set of reforms. An aggressive and a well-informed population, hungry to be part of a civilization and not endure anarchy forever, could not be ignored.

And as the reforms brought investments and the number of jobs soared, he caught on to the trends of rural to urban migration, a hitherto unseen consumer demand for quality and a clamour for lifestyle comforts and convenience.

The risk reward pay-off is always skewed heavily--either on the reward side if you get it right, or on the risk side if you get it wrong.

Chief Oko got it right as he amassed a land-bank by paying small amounts of money and, in some cases, simply margins to buy options from unsuspecting communities and bureaucrats eager to raise funds for their state coffers. Governors of states started wooing him as he became the developer that could deliver on homes, malls and, of course, a whole new community infrastructure.

And he found God.

He asked, "Do you pray? Everything I am today is because of God. I pray for two hours every morning, I sleep for four hours maximum, I don't drink and when I don't work, I am with the family."

To him, education was key and probably something he carried as a cross in his heart. Thus his elder son is an engineer, his eldest daughter is a doctor and his middle son was trained as a lawyer. I asked him how he would carve out his empire among them.

He was surprised.

His views were resoundingly clear for an unschooled, self made-billionaire. "My children must decide. If they wish to work with me, they must come and join at the right level and prove themselves. Their right to my wealth does not give them the right to spoil the aspiration of the managers I have, who work hard and are capable."

A refreshing departure from the entrepreneurs I am used to in other parts of the world, where entitlement seems to be the norm and inter-generational transfer of command leads to disintegration of sound business models.

He was explaining to me how he found God, when he was alone and had to train himself at every juncture. I asked him what he meant when he said he never got flustered and believed whatever God does is for the best.

His story went something like this: "One day, I was returning from a trip and had an accident. My son broke his hip and I was badly bruised. I was due to be in Abuja the next day for a much-anticipated meeting with the cabinet and then to submit a crucial tender. But instead, I was at the hospital battling to recover. The doctors would not think of letting me board a plane the next morning. Resigned to the fate of losing an opportunity of a life time, I was upset and worried--for my son, for my business and, like a selfish hunter, for the lost prize. I switched on the TV and in front of my eyes was a plane crash. The flight from Lagos to Abuja had crashed and there were no survivors. I was supposed to be on the flight. A cold shiver went down my spine as the significance of the event sunk in. Who was looking after me? Why me? And to what end? That's the morning of my life which became the mother of all mornings, as it gave birth to a new me. Someone who never questions life's trials and tribulations any more, driven only by a sense of ordainment which meant I had to deliver on God's work. To seize the opportunities, I see and do my best to work on them," he said.

"Every day I bring someone to work with me so that they can have the opportunity to rise from the darkness below. That means 365 people a year and 365 families who will see the dawn in a different light," he added.

I asked, "Chief, so is this what drives you? Not money, but the ability to create opportunities?"

He nodded.

To do unto others as you would have the others do unto you...and everything will follow as the night the Day.

Yet again, I found someone who showed me why humans survive despite all odds and why businesses flourish.

The thoughts and opinions shared here are of the author.