Indian Pot call the African Kettle Black

During my last trip to Mumbai, I had lunch with two very attractive ladies.

One, the wife of the President of a shipping company and the other the wife of the CEO of a major global bank’s South Asia operations.

Lucky me, in more ways than I had initially thought.

These manicured, pedicured, fashionable and worldly ladies seemed to have all the cures for all the ills that India still carries on its sleeve.

Commenting on those poor folks who still consider the dirty pavements of the Mumbai streets to be their home, the glib consensus seemed to be more about why Mumbai had to accept such refugees from other states; with a convenient amnesia regarding the fact that these were the same people who gave Mumbai its cheap, tireless and silent brigade of street cleaners and sewage workers, among other thankless jobs.

The ladies pretty much had the shackles of their middle-class backgrounds well tucked beneath their Prada glasses, hidden inside their Gucci bags, tied under their Bulgari watches and crushed underneath their Armani shoes as they savoured the fruits of their hard-working, now wealthy, professional husbands living out the great Indian dream.

The conversation fluttered between holidays in Spain, university fees for their children and right down to googling at the lunch table to find out which B-School had A-grade campus recruitments. Mercs and BMWs adorned their driveway and life was about jewellery and tinsel town gossip.

But…where do you go to my lovely –when you are alone in your bed? They seemed to, after all, have the same fears as their less fortunate sistren.

The Banker’s wife mentioned more than once that retrenchment worries and low bonuses had been cramping her retail therapy lately while the Shipper’s wife complained about no bonuses at all.

And then, just as I thought we could finally talk about gastronomic delights, in walked a pot bellied, modern day incarnation of a designer Ganesh - resplendent in his Hilfiger t-shirt, Hugo Boss jeans and Cartier watch - who proceeded to give an almighty bear hug to my lunch companions who seemed delighted to see him and perhaps be seen in his company.

I was introduced as the ‘African deal maker` to this self-confessed serial enterprenuer.

I cringed at this description of my noble profession but my discomfort was slightly reduced looking at the warm grin that this description brought to my little Ganesh’s face - an expression akin to as if he had finally seen his long lost Dad, Shiva.

He pumped my hand and decided there and then that a business talk with me was critical and sat down to proceed with his monologue.

So, for the next hour, through some very sad English interspersed with Hindi and with some Gujarati words thrown in at regular intervals to embellish his point, I was briefed on how many businesses he had started, how much he had sold them for and the fact that he now only did deals as running businesses in India was too much of a problem.

I asked him why - part curious and part critical.

He said that a time comes in a hard working man’s life when he gets tired to apologizing for his success and greasing palms and suffering fools.

He told me ‘running staff and investors and bankers and politicians in one go` to make a business work required the skills of a master juggler and the charm of a circus clown; making me wonder which of qualities he had employed to make those numerous pots of money - some of which clearly he chose to carry under his tightly fitting, bright yellow t-shirt.

So I asked - what do deal makers do that business men in India don’t?

The answer I received was educational.

He said India needed middle men for everything - and he assisted people who had those needs. He now intermediated between power brokers, politicians, corporate chiefs, global investors and multinational role players. He made sure those many dots were connected and lines drawn for commerce to flourish.

I asked what the name of his firm was - and he said the only thing firm in his life was to not to be seen or profiled, so he operated as him and him alone.

His interest in me was obvious. He saw in me a real opportunity to now extend his sphere of influence and link his considerable client base to the opportunities that the dark continent no doubt offered. He gave me a shopping list and asked if I could get him coal, manganese, zinc, iron ore, cashew nuts, palm oil and medical tourists. He asked if I could get his clients mega road port and railroad projects, housing and commercial contracts and power generation plants.

He said his clients had all the expertise and Africa surely needed them.

He however also said his clients will not put money into Africa as it was too risky and apparently Africa was very corrupt and opaque. He regaled my airhead company with stories about his trip to Lagos when those dark people tried to steal from him and asked him for a bribe. How he had to explain to them that his required yellow fever certificate (which he had conveniently forgotten to take with him) is nothing but a scanned copy on his iPhone as `in India we are very electronically advanced’ but failed to make them agree to let him pass on that very convincing basis. ‘It was all because these guys wanted a bribe,’ he said and I tried to understand whose fault it was in the first place?

I tried to tell him I had been to Lagos at least fifty times in my life and had never thankfully faced such a situation, to which he guffawed and mocked as if I was the biggest liar he had seen. But then he decided  that being derisory about my adopted continent wasn’t going to get him anywhere as he saw I was getting a little upset. So, in true entrepreneur style, he changed tack and reverted back to his oily, silly smile to charm me. He said that today India is so successful and there is so much demand that nobody from India wanted to venture out into Africa and get stuck with the nitty gritty of setting up and running complicated businesses. His clients wanted quick returns and wanted ‘deals`.  His clients were happy to get access to oil and mineral - by using me. He was hopeful I would get them straight into the state houses of different countries - and they would walk back after a cup of coffee waving long-term mining contracts.

He asked if I could make a list of all the major infrastructure projects that the World Bank and their like had already committed funding to and then for me to lean on the ‘right` people to do the wrong thing, I suppose, to get those contracts for his clients.

He was a man in a hurry - eager to please, keen to show and desperate to run to his clients with the good news that he had met Santa Claus from Africa finally.

My lunch was fast becoming a business meeting and even my erudite and attractive ladies were getting into the act. I was told how popular African art and artifacts had become and how they could set up a boutique and sell to their discerning acquaintances and friends if only I could get them the supplies.

Not bad, I thought, for an afternoon’s work. For a brief while I conjured up an image where a fat little, huffing and puffing Ganesh would be smiling down a mining shaft in Kigali while a charming, bedecked and bejeweled middle-aged housewife would bargain with the street guy in Nairobi to snatch his amulet from his wrists for a few dollars  less.

Enticing prospect.

I could be known as the man who made it possible and the continent would finally rise from its depths by linking up with such aggressive, opportunistic, self-centered notions of business and bilateral engagement.

I was also reminded that the Chinese were never up to any good in Africa while Indian businesses could make a real difference to beleaguered Africa.

Any wonder now why the experience of Indian businesses is replete with disappointments? Short termism coupled with scant respect for the local people can only spell doom and Africa is hardly an exception.

Those Indian groups who see Africa as an opportunity just like they saw the potential in their own homeland thirty years ago and put in the hard work to develop that potential are the one who will prosper.

They know strategy matters, relationships are important and commitment is vital.

Those who choose to see it a modern day gold rush and indulge in the rape/loot/scavenge strategy will however regret it.

Today’s Africa is open in its welcome, boundless in its opportunities and, most significantly, savvy in its policies and extremely discerning in its choices. Responsible business with responsible people from all over the world, Indians being no exception, will create a truly responsible Africa. I only wish we could keep the marauders away, especially those ones who only made it in India through utilizing the licensing regime, state largesse and corrupt support systems for their own benefit - and believe that’s the only way to do business.

Africa doesn’t need them and India certainly doesn’t deserve them either.

Maybe my work should focus not only on bringing Indian expertise to Africa, but should add a secondary dimension – and keep some people away?

The thoughts and opinions shared here are of the author.