FORCED INTO BUSINESS

When I was young, I did not know that my family was poor. I mean we slept on a bed, could eat dinner on kitchen tables while other kids in the neighborhood slept on the floor and ate dinners sitting on floor plastered and decorated with cow dung. Our mothers back in the village knew how to make good use of cow dung.  I'm sure some kids would compete on whose mother makes the best designs of floor and wall decorations using cow dung. 

But later in the years, reality kicked in. My dad was retrenched, started a small businesses which died out within three years. When we opened our eyes there was no money coming into the house. When I was 15, he passed on. I had seen the man hustle all his life to make sure he spends time with us and that we looked and ate good. Going to school without such good provision was going to be tough. 

My mom open a small shop few months after dad passed on. And to assist, I had to sell some to the products at school. So I became an entrepreneur after after my mom's bravery, out of necessity. I did not chose business. It chose me. 

Forced into busness

The last three to four years of high school was very interesting for me. I became an entrepreneur by force. I was forced to find means of survival out of necessity. I either had to sell or beg. I'm sure some of you know how this feels. There are people who chose to become entrepreneurs because they have a skill or product that can be marchandised. And then there are those who put of trouble, frustration and tiredness from going door to door asking for handouts, end up selling to those doors. I was tired of lacking and going to school without pocket money. I was tired of eating bread and Achar or pap and Achar at school. Other kids could buy meat and juice here and there, and I wanted to be in the "class". So I became an entrepreneur. Which turned out really well. When other kids had R2, and R5 for pocket money, I had R10, sometimes R20 taken from my daily profits to squander like the prodigal son as I wished. 

It's either I had to be an entrepreneur or a beggar. So I chose the first one. My mom helped me with the first stock of lollipops, smoothies and candies. Those were easy to sell as they would exchange hands with money under the table in the class room while the teacher was busy, especially during those subjects that I did not like such as Geography and Agricaultural sciences. 

Business expansion

Realizing that those small items don't make much profit, I added peanuts and boiled eggs to my stock. So I had to take with me a big box of mixed items to school every day. The school is about 2.5 KM from home, and I had to walk with my hand made school bag and the "mobile spaza shop". I sold  +/-30 eggs a day, few packs of peanuts and one pack of each of the three types of sweets I carried to school. I think that time I could make a profit of R30 sometimes R40 a day. Then after school I had to pass via the Indian Shop to stock up on sweets. Mama bought the eggs for me from her local suppliers and prepared them for me every morning. 

Begging stopped at once before it got me a name I did not want to asssiciate with. I became the supplier of the most needed items by both students and teachers. Kids needed sweets, teachers loved the boiled eggs and dry pan fried peanuts (mama's traditional recipe). It worked like a charm. 

Trouble with the principal

Every business environment has its legal frameworks that decide who sells what, to whom, when and how. I was in a high school environment and had to register as a vendor. I did not. I refused to pay the school my hard earned  money to sell small items. It was not a smart move though, because it threatened business shut down at the time when business was enjoying good success, if you know what I mean. But the principal let me go unpunished with one instruction: don't sell during and in the classes. Well, I'm sure you want to know if I stopped or not, I did not. I pressed on.

As the business grew, it meant egg shells had to increase in the school yard and in the class room floor. My school did not have a class that taught morals, values, cleanliness, respect, and all the good values a child should have learned at home. So all the kids that bought sweets and eggs threw the left overs, papers and egg shells on the floor where ever they opened and ate them. Sometimes a teacher would be walking around the class and would be disgusted by scattered sweet wraps and egg shells on the floor making irritating, dumping site sounds under his feet.  I didn't care. I made money.

When they called me for questioning about the impact of my business on the schools environment, I rebelled. I told them it was not my responsibility to tell people where to throw

"Rubish" after eating. The learners made a mess because of what I sold. I was part to blame because I sold during lessons. In my small little kiddy mind, I was not to blame in anyway. I guess that arrogance helped me, even though it could have gotten me into trouble, it halped my business survive. I had to make it work or I was going to be a better. 

Conclusion for now

To cut the story short: I made money to enough to  give my younger brother and I pocket money. And I could once in a while buy a loaf of bread at home, I  could afford to pay for church conference registrations at church by myself. Once I bought myself shoes and it felt good

VALUES: PRICELESS LESSONS FROM MY FATHER

My dad was a great man. I did not know that when he was still alive. So I never got to say "thank you" to him. I'm writing this article so that you don't do the same. And that you don't miss priceless momments with your children.

Daddy, the education fanatic

I've observed that my father made sure he spent time with me and my little brother before he passed on. He made observations of the things that we both loved and encouraged us on them. I loved reading. He being uneducated, made efforts to participate in my school's homeworks by sitting with me while I do them even though at that time I didn't understand why would he want to watch me do the homework if he does not offer to help out! Now I know that is the best he knew how; to be present. He would comment on how the teachers have placed the right ticks and wrong marks on the excercise and test books, the bigger the ticks looked, the bigger the complement I got, the bigger the "wrong mark" looked, the harsher the comments from him.

Daddy, the Fisher man 

I still think of those precious moments and they make me smile. One incident that I recall really well was when he came back from fishing the other weekend. Well. The sad thing is he never took me with, so I never learned how to catch a fish using a hook. But when he came back he would give me and my younger brother the big fish to clean up and prepare it for mama to cook it for dinner. He would talk about how he struggled to get the big fish out of the water, sometimes he had to fall into the dam while trying to pull it and swim in the dangerous  waters. At times he had to let go in order to remain safe. Sometimes he could not catch the big fish. He often came  home with funny  small,  difficult to cook, difficult to each fish. But he never came home empty handed. It's either he would bring fish or wild meat. Writing this makes me miss his presence and bad river water smell.

Each fishing trip came with its own fun stories and we loved listening to him. I had good times with my father. I did not always look forward to him being around becaue it meant strickthat behaviour, talk in certain way, bath in the cold nights even when mama would let go, he did not. We had to be home at certain time. If not, we had to give good explanations which he was not really interesting in listening to because we would have disobeyed him anyway. Many other kids my age did not have what I had. They had money, good toys, great clothes,  bicycles and many other good kiddy staff. I had the present father. Their fathers were far in the big cities trying to earn a living for them, and never wory about their relationship. At the end, the families and children of these career focused men and women became casualties of their personal father's personal success.

Daddy, the backhouse farmer

One other thing I really cherish was when  he thought me to grow onions, tomatoes, potatoes, spinach, sugar cane and mango trees. I must say I hated every momment of working in his garden. Everyday when I came back from school I had to work in the mad; either watering the garden or removing weed. Whe  other kids went to play soccer in the streets in was subjected to home farming.

Even though I hated this farming, I loved watching the tomato trees grow. I even loved the onion and tomato stew he made. I still can't make like he did. It was still on special, creamy and delicious. Man, I wish I could duplicate it for my wife now, unfortunately he left with the recepy undocumented.

When I look back, I realise that sometimes being childish can make you miss valuable opportunities. I have the skills to grow my own vegetables that I got from him. But I did not have the patience to work in his farm. I remember after planting the potatoes, I would literally dig the roots more than once per week to see how far than he potatoes have grown. I know now than he hath it was bad farming practice. You need to learn to watch things grow wothouthe tempering with their environment. I believe he wanted me to learn patience. He also wanted me to learn to survive in my own and provide for my family. For that, I am truly greatefull.

Gift of the presence 

In 1996,  my mom came back from "joburg" to collect me from my grandmother's house where I stayed before daddy could afford to stay with us full time.  I recall her saying "your father wants you to come stay with him in Gauteng. He says he wants all his children around him." For me the excitement was not staying with my father, but it was the thought of being in the big city. I did not know that we're going to stay in the informal settlements of Tembisa. I was excited that I would be able to tell other kids about my "city life". To know what happened go me there, get my book RELENTLESS YOUTH-reaching beyond the limit. It's an experience in would not trade for anything.

Looking back 14 years after he passed on, I realised that the best gift a father could give to his son was not just formal education, money, houses but values of fatherhood transferred through being present. Values can live longer, be transferred from one generation to another. They can be usecured to help one generate all the other tangible gifts that a father could have given. My father gave me that. He was not an angel, but he gave more than money could buy.

Now I know that no matter how educated I can be, no matter how educated I may want my children to be, the best thing I can do for them is to be with them when they need me and when they don't know that they need me. It is called the gift of the presence. It cannot be replaced by money, education, gifts, cars, or anything else for that matter. We may not know the impact of the gift of the presense in our children, but trust me, it goes a long way deeper than anything the world can offer.

Today people live busy lives. They have appointed nannies and teachers to raise their children. Parents miss precious early childhood develoment moments that cannot be repeated and felt through a movie. Precious times such as when a child learns to walk the first time. When he learns his first word, his first day at school, his/her first crush, all those silly little things count for more than a million doller deal.

It is ok to get big contracts, but what did you give your child? It is ok to work, we all have to do that. But you need to ask yourself,  whose values are the children adopting as they grow, yours or that of society and school teachers?

We have put education so far ahead of everything that we send our children to boarding schools to be raised, corrected and moulded by educators and caretakers whose values we do not know and may not fit that which we wish for our children. We then guts to cry when the children value what they learned in the streets and call it "current society that corrupted my children." Let me submit the truth to you it is, you corrupted your children by handing them over to strangers. Charity begins at home. I thank my father for teaching me a thing or two. What will your children say about you when they grow up to have children of their own?

MISSED OPPORTUNITY

More often in our lives, there is a difference or conflict between what we feel and what we desire to feel. The conflict can either motivate you to work hard towards what you desire to feel or to act in a way that will completely deny you the luxary of feeling what you desire. This conflict usually happens without you actively allowing it to happen, but it does anyway, one way or the other. In some cases, this desire could be the need for honor, for promotion, for a bonus,  for love and affection and many other things. This desire can be a source of courage or evil plots.

Missed opportunity 

When Cathy, provisional clerk and personal assistant at a small accounting firm in Polokwane started feeling like her boss doesn't pay attention to her most of the time, she started acting strange. She felt like her boss never listens to her suggestions, disregards her presence and sometimes does not even notice that she is in the office.

On day, Joey, her boss, was late for a meeting and she asked Cathy to preper the meeting documents quickly. Cathy felt this was her opportunity to make her presense felt and to get the attention that she has been yearning for. She quickly prepared the document and put them in perfect order as instructed. Then loaded them in white, company branded box. When Joey was about to leave, she asked Cathy to Cary the box and accompany her to the meeting. It was the first time that Cathy had to attend one of Joey's what you call "top class" meetings. 

Cathy carried a white box, with eight files in it. On arrival at the meeting, Cathy was instructed to lay out the documents on the table on each of the available seats. Her heart started racing, blood pressure increased and her sweat glands worked overtime. Within seconds, she asked to rush to the ladies room to dry the river that was suddenly over flooding from her armpits and bladder overload. 

Upon, her return, Joey said to her clients, "I have asked Cathy to prepare this documents, so I will ask her to present them to you." She turned towards Cathy with a lovely, confident smile and said "Cathy, this is your moment, humor me".

Within an instant, all secretory glands in her mouth stoped working. Her mouth went completely dry, eyes turned red and there was an uncontrollable fellowship between her knees. The fingers gave up holding the glass of water that was in her hands. The glass missed her dress and rolled on the table... anxiety and regret started flooding her emotions. SHE HAD INTANTIONALLY SWAPED FILES to get back spitefuly at her boss. The files that she carried are not the ones that should be in this meeting. She did not know that she will be the one presenting the documents.

Sowing seeds of goodness

We often play games that we think will get us what we want. We play with people's emotions with the hope to get their attention so that they can give us the feeling that we long for in return. 

When our hearts long for love, instead of withholding love, give love. Have you ever heard the saying: "if you want something so bad, give it away and you will get it in abundance?". If you need help, offer a helping hand. The universe is designed in such a way that people get what they give more often and they get it in abundance.

Spilled milk

Cathy lemented that day.

The meeting was cancelled. Joey lost the business deal because the client felt she did not take them seriously. Cathy lost her job. Even though Joey is still going strong with her business, Cathy, on her quest for attention from what she assumed was her "devil" boss, subotaged herself and lost her opportunity to make a name for herself and lost her job. Joey lost a business deal, but to avoid this happening again, she also eliminated the one person whom she thought was responsible for her failure. She now have a new assistant who pays attention to details and helps her prepare and make presentations of business proposals to other clients. Cathy is home feeling more rejected and lost.

What was supposed to have been a stepping ladder for Cathy, became her worst down fall route. Be careful not to make the same mistake.