I bumped into a friend of mine the other
day. She’s one of the brave ones (certainly much braver than I am), in the
sense that she ditched a fairly well-paying job to start her own company. She’s
doing pretty well in her chosen industry, at least going by her accoutrements
and the word on the street. Or at least I think she’s doing pretty well, and
the reasons for my lack of certainty will become evident in a few minutes.
In the course of our conversation, she told
me that she had had to make a strategic acquisition. She (and her partners) had
bought a company which helped to fill in some strategic gaps, and this year
would be one in which they could offer a full-spectrum service in their
industry. I wanted to know the price of the acquisition, and this was the
beginning of a good-natured tug-of-war, in which she refused to satisfy my
curiosity, and I doggedly kept at it.
Her reticence is par for the course for
Kenyans. I have never met a group of people, anywhere in the world, which is so
reluctant to speak about money. Even the British, for whom it is supposedly bad
form to engage in conversations about finances, have gotten over their reserve.
The people who invented the phrase ‘if you need to ask, you cannot afford it’,
got over their bashfulness when their housing bubble started a decade and a
half ago. After that, it was common to hear Brits speak about the cost of
houses, and thence to conversations about salaries and net worth and the like.
In Kenya, we are still stuck at the point
where there is no polite way to ask (or answer) how much one makes, or how much
one’s home is worth, or whether one’s business is profitable or not
(journalists are excepted from the politeness rule, even when speaking to their
friends).
There are certain self-created exemptions
to this rule, as last Friday’s Business Daily showed. There is a certain group
of young people who are not only comfortable speaking about money, but who
almost seem to wear these conversations as badges of honour. While some
consider talk of weekend expenses crass, showing up a need to impress, this
group of young people engages in it with gusto. Even then, though, it is done
very carefully. The group of parvenus may tell you how much they will spend in
a nightclub (and inflate the figures as the need arises), but they will very
rarely tell you how much they are making in their businesses, legitimate and
otherwise.
Of course, there is a good reason for this.
In years past (certainly, when I was growing up), one was actively discouraged
from speaking about money. It was considered not just gauche, but also
insensitive, because of the social structure of African society – the well-off
person was probably educated through the efforts of the whole village, so
public discussions of wealth and income were frowned upon. There were other,
less exalted reasons – the reasoning went that if you discussed your money too
openly, you were simply inviting thieves (or the evil eye).
This reasoning extended to businesses. It
was almost impossible to know the financial health of a business – anything
from the corner duka to a private conglomerate. It is only publicly listed
companies, which are legally obligated to share their financial books with
everyone, which gave one an inkling as to how companies were doing.
The modesty Kenyans have about discussing
money is not just a matter of taste. It actually has an impact on the real
world. Any listings of the wealthy are almost, by definition, inaccurate. They
leave too many names out, and get the net worth of those they do list awfully
wrong. What we’re left with is lists that fluctuate wildly from year to year, and
fortunes made and lost at an alarming pace, if these numbers were to be
believed.
The greatest impact, though, is personal.
Remember when you sat for your job interview and got to the part about expected
salary? Salary scales in the Kenyan job market are so opaque that employers
hold all the cards. Even the more meticulous jobseekers, who do their due
diligence before turning up for the interview, invariably ask someone who works
at the target company. This person would also hesitate to discuss the expected
salary, as this would be revealing what they themselves make. This has led to
extreme wage disparities within organisations, and the inevitable bitter recriminations
when these disparities are made public.
It’s almost like a blind auction, where you
put in a sealed bid. The only difference is that this time you hope your bid is
the highest, because you’re the winner if it is.
Chances of this state of affairs changing
are low. If the change does come, it will do so at glacial pace, given the
cultural and economic baggage discussions over money carry.
Or maybe the socialites are the beginning
of a good trend. Maybe their willingness to speak about their expensive,
booze-filled weekends will lead to all of us being paid better.
Also published in the Business Daily on 20 January at http://www.businessdailyafrica.com/Opinion-and-Analysis/flaunting-of-cash-may-lead-to-better-pay/-/539548/2594910/-/hl2b4iz/-/index.html
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