My big black conglomerate fantasy

In his hilarious, critically-acclaimed “Kill the Messenger” 3-continent comedy tour, Chris Rock said one of the reasons he wished Barack Obama would win the 2008 presidential election was so that he would have substantial motivation for his kids to aim high.

“I hope he win, I hope Barack win. Just so, that as a black parent I can stop giving my child the ‘you can do it’ speech,” remarked a witty Rock. He went on to compare how a black person had to fly to where the white person could walk.

I suppose he had a point. Living in a world that’s often black or white, it’s very hard to keep your spirits up when your optimism has no place in reality. Perhaps it’s a similar situation when trying to encourage entrepreneurship amongst black people in South Africa. We lack enough success stories where political connections, BEE deals, tenders and under-the-table fees are not involved. We also don’t have enough mainstream big, black businesses that illustrate the power of innovative ideas and how you can turn them into savvy corporations.

But I have a particular fantasy that constantly teases the edge of my mind, patiently trying to find a gap to slip through. It often happens when I am in the car on my way to a results presentation or a media briefing for some JSE-listed or big private company.

My mind usually surrenders and I find myself wondering what it would be like to attend a results presentation for South Africa’s biggest black-owned conglomerate. I picture the CEO to be a tough-as-nails looking guy, who looks at people suspiciously over the rim of his glasses.

And then a picture of a short, pregnant, dark-skinned woman filters through, who has the most fabulous eyelashes, to be his CFO. I see the two of them sitting side-by-side at a short, table covered with a white cloth and filled with loose papers. The CEO and CFO holding a microphone in each hand and unintentionally take turns reaching for their glasses of water in front of them.

Seated in the front row, will be members of the board, who also happen to be part of the family that founded the company from scratch and now have a permanent place in the JSE Top 40.

The CEO then begins his presentation, explaining the increases and declines in different divisions and discusses some of the hurdles the company faced in the economic storm.

After completing his presentation, the pregnant CFO stands up and quickly goes through the numbers, distracted only by the noise of something dropped by a clumsy journalist in the audience.

The communications officer will stand up at that point and field questions from the media, shareholders and other interested parties.

 After all that, the chairman of the board, an old woman whose black fur hat hides her grey, thinning hair will walk slowly to the front of the room with a microphone in her hand, assisted by her walking stick, and address the crowd.

“I am so proud of my son and my niece for taking such good care of the company my husband and I founded 40 years ago,” she says in a voice jaded by exhaustion.

“My husband would have killed to be here.”

Polite laughter fills the room. It’s not funny but rather morbid since her husband died of cancer two years ago, but she’s a formidable old woman whose faculties were once the envy of the industry. Plus, for her, every breath is a countdown.

After saying a short speech about the satisfactory performance of the company, despite tough trading conditions, she thanks the various members of the board, also her family, the senior executive as well as the shareholders.

The communications officer appears once more, adjourning the briefing and inviting the media for a light lunch and the opportunity for one-on-one interviews.

Just before getting a glimpse of what kind of food was laid out in the next room, I’m always brought back to reality somehow: either by the signal of a bbm on my phone or the impatience of a joburg driver.

Thus ends my fantasy of South Africa’s big black conglomerate:  the black version of Pick n’ Pay, or Famousbrands.

Do I think South Africa will ever have one?

I don’t want to claim to have the perfect solution to a horribly complex situation, nor am I going to waste time berating black people, like Chika Onyeani served up in his book Capitalist Nigger, because no matter how tempted I am to slip into black-bashing mode, I know that as a black woman with a degree and a job I love, I am not the rule, I’m the exception.

I have moments where it all seems possible, where if this changed, or that was moved or if that was tweaked a bit, it could be possible.

What always fills me with hope is when I think back to a time when making a South African film besides Leon Schuster’s slapstick comedies seemed impossible, but now we are able to look back at the creation of South African classics, like Tsotsi and White wedding.

So, yes, I think it is possible.