Burden the rich face in finding heir to their empire

The post-independence generation of successful African entrepreneurs is being phased out by the natural law of attrition. These men (and they were mainly men) seemed to have been favoured by a confluence of history, opportunity and luck. They saw things that others couldn’t and took risks that seemed crazy to the majority. Compared to the average person, they were quite disciplined in matters food, alcohol and fun (in all its dimensions). They stuck to their vision.

Unfortunately they give the false impression that they made it on their own. But their wives, many of them housewives, ensured they stayed focused, disciplined and greedy for more. In a real sense, their women made them smell the coffee. But because these women were products of a bad culture that denigrated females, they have remained largely unknown.

But will this club of the few ever reveal the real secrets behind their financial prowess? Your guess is as good as mine. There could be some dark pages they’d rather the public doesn’t read. But there is a crisis of mammoth proportions in the land. Many of these great entrepreneurs may die without writing wills because they don’t trust their children with their wealth. This could open ugly succession battles that would deplete their money and bring about deleterious effects on economies of many households.

Sadly, in many cases, their worries are not baseless. These potential heirs not only lack their elders’ discipline and vision, but also lack viable alternative visions that would grow enterprises. They appear to be driven by a consumerist ideology that would see them drain entire businesses.

Where the parents instinctively avoid pitfalls that would gnaw at their savings, the children are busy looking for new avenues on which to waste their parents’ prosperity. Where the parents actively seek anonymity, the children are itching to have everyone know who they are. Where the parents eek a modest life to protect their vast wealth, the children exhibit a disturbing deficiency in practical wisdom and are unwilling to listen to the voice of reason. With good reason, these wealthy parents fear endlessly for the future.

But they could learn to do what Mr Samson Nduhiu did, as narrated to me by his son, Moses. Moses had just completed his masters at a top university in Britain when he called his father and asked to be given a job at his firm, which is based at the airport.

“We shall see when you get home”, was the reply he got from his no-nonsense father. Moses was itching to be appointed to the vacant operations manager position and eventually take over from his ageing father. But Mr Nduhiu was not one to play with money. “Money has life,” he would tell young entrepreneurs who sought his advice. “You nurture it and it grows you, you starve it and it starves you to death!”

When Moses finally got home, he was shocked speechless when his father gave him a job as a toilet cleaner under a supervisor. Moses swallowed his pride and got down to business. He eventually won the heart of his supervisor, who approached Nduhiu and requested him to promote his son. A year after his death, the board of directors appointed Moses to the vacant position of operations manager. He now appreciates the journey his father put him on.