Diary of a parastatal CEO part 2

July 9, 2012

January
Well, this year started with a bang. No really, I mean a real bang. Some thugs attempted to shoot at me as I was driving into my house at the beginning of the month. To say that I was shaken by the event would be an understatement. The CID detective on the case told me that it was definitely work related. He asked me if my organization was undertaking a massive procurement. I asked him why. He looked at me funnily. I then saw the light. I decided two things: firstly, a bodyguard is a necessary but irritating appendage required for this job and secondly, I told my board that I was stepping aside from the procurement committee. That major equipment whose tender closed last December was clearly generating more interest than I could possibly survive. The board bought my story about transparency and accountability being my reasons for stepping aside. Actually one of the directors, Mr. X looked mighty pleased at my announcement. I didn’t care. I now play “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees every morning as I shave.

February

Why doesn’t someone write a manual on “How to be a successful and healthy parastatal CEO” and give it to all incoming CEOs on their first day? I am getting tired of dodging landmines at each turn. Godfather called me last month as soon as he heard that I had resigned from the procurement committee and let’s just say that all I heard was *&!# after every five seconds. He requested, nay, ordered me to get back on the committee. Apparently there were forces out to scuttle the tender process that was completed in December. He reminded me about his motto: “Us small tribesmen have to stick together”. I told him about the thugs. He told me that he would ensure that I received an additional bodyguard from our small tribe to help the one I already had. Somehow I got the feeling that I didn’t have much choice.

March
I had a very difficult discussion with the Chairman of the board who couldn’t understand my flip-flopping over whether I wanted to be a member of the procurement committee. I told him that my staff had advised that my input was required as the CEO since there was some pressure being laid to bear by some members of the committee who had vested interests. He bought my story. Something fishy happened early this month. On my way back from plot shopping in the plot rich Kitengela area I stopped at a local bar on the highway and found Mr. X, my board director, in deep discussions with my finance manager. They didn’t even notice me slipping into a seat in the corner garden and having two beers. Finance manager pulled out several documents from a brown envelope, which Mr. X stuffed into a worn briefcase quickly. I’m getting a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach and it has nothing to do with the nusu kilo of mbuzi that I washed down with my beer.

April
Sweet mother of nature! My name is back in Parliament. Again. A hard working member of parliament rose on a point of order and asked my line minister why the procurement of equipment was not being done in accordance with the public procurement regulations. How now brown cow? We followed the procedure to the letter! The member of parliament had a sheaf of papers that he kept brandishing about as proof that the companies shortlisted in the tender process were all linked to……Godfather!

My chairman called me as soon as the parliamentary drama moved onto constitutional amendment matters. All I heard was %$!# every five seconds. I guess he was pissed off that an organization whose board he chaired could have its reputation sullied by the slightest hint of scandal. He had just gotten off the phone with the line minister who was all bent out of shape for having been broadsided by the parliamentary revelation. Something tells me, I need more than two bodyguards for the salvos that are about to come.

May
Well, what can I say? On May 2nd the line minister fired me via a press conference at 11 a.m. Three hours later my chairman called a press conference of his own at 2 p.m. and told me via the media to stick to my guns, I was not going anywhere. The Permanent Secretary in my line ministry held a press conference at 5 p.m. and said that I was fired. By the time I got home that evening a) Neither my chairman nor my line minister had called me b) my bodyguards had melted away into the rapidly fading light of the late afternoon and c) no one was returning my calls. But wait, Godfather called me at 8 p.m and said only two words “Kaa ngumu!” I did what any reasonable man would do under such difficult circumstances. I went to the bar.

June
My new shaving song is “I will survive” by Gloria Gaynor. After being fired, hired and mired in absolute power-play nonsense I managed to slink back into my office after a week of lying low like an envelope. Somehow the MP who dragged the scandal that never was into parliament found auctioneers at his gate two days after he broke the story. Turns out he had some unpaid loans at a local bank. The board of directors was fired and reconstituted. Everyone made it back on the board except Mr. X. My finance manager requested for a year’s sabbatical to go and undertake some course on divinity. He wanted to “find himself”. I don’t know why one would need a year to do that when all one needs to do is look in the mirror. I also got new bodyguards, ones that would stay with me through sick and sin. As for the equipment tender, well that’s a story for another day.

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Twitter: @carolmusyoka

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