A man of profound faith, Keletshabile Maswabi believes challenges, no matter how severe, are meant to bring out the best in individuals.
As we walk to the car park, I make a comment about how there is a growing body of opinion that Lobatse’s days as a commercial centre are numbered. It’s a view he doesn’t share. His argument is that only government offices have closed, especially after relocation of the High Court to Gaborone ÔÇô and this presents an opportunity for the private sector to step up to the plate.
“I believe this is a great opportunity for the private sector to turn Lobatse into a business-driven town,” he says.
It’s this stubborn optimism that explains why he is still in business ÔÇô and flourishing ÔÇô when at the beginning the odds seemed to conspire against him.
Maswabi’s brick-making business, Kelyh Mass, was financed by the Department of Youth after he submitted an impressive business plan. He opened for business on May 15, 2012. Having previously helped to manage his brother’s brickyard enterprise in Selebi-Phikwe, he knew exactly what machinery to look for. What he hadn’t reckoned with was how fickle the labour force could be.
“All the while as I mobilised to open, I had employed some labourers, but as the day to start operations approached, they ditched me. I later heard that they had found employment elsewhere. I was left with only one employee, but on the day we opened for business he also left to join a security company as a guard,” he recalls.
On what was supposed to be the company’s biggest day, Maswabi was all alone. So, what is a CEO without employees to do under the circumstances?
HR practitioners reading this piece might find his next course of action quite hilarious. He jumped into the company’s newly-acquired truck and drove to a drinking hole in the town’s oldest township, Peleng.
At such places, any pickup that parks by is swarmed by men of all ages who want a few hours’ casual work so that they come back later to continue where they left with the drinking.
To his amazement, Maswabi found that when he offered the men fulltime employment, they melted away. Out of the crowd that had formed around the truck, only three volunteered ÔÇô and they were employed on the spot.
“We drove to the office to complete the formalities, and signed the employment contract. We were ready to get going, but another shock awaited,” he states. “My first supplier got it wrong. I had ordered river sand, and the delivery was done in absence. When I got to the brickyard I found that what had been delivered was pit sand. I had to call the supplier to take it back, and bring me what I had ordered.”
At this juncture, Maswabi pauses to make a troubling observation.
“When you are a young person just starting in business, and people find out that you are a beneficiary of a youth grant, the attitude is that you shouldn’t complain because, afterall, it’s government money. They deliberately overlook the fact that the moment the money is deposited into my business account it ceases to be government money; it’s an investment that must yield returns, and for that to happen I must use it prudently. When you negotiate with a supplier, you are asked, ‘why do you negotiate for a lower price when government is paying?’ I have to explain that this is money entrusted into my care to build my business,” he says.
Maswabi posits that the attitude could partly explain the high failure rate of government-funded youth businesses.
He says some beneficiaries internalise the thinking that they are spending government money, and therefore fail to use it wisely.
Now, back to that first day of operation. The first month went without a single order.
“I realised that we didn’t register any sales because the business was unknown. That taught me the value of marketing, and I had to devise some marketing strategies. From the following month to today, the business is experiencing tremendous growth,” says the 28-year-old.
The staff complement has grown from three labourers, and he has increased the machinery as well. But before the success, there were setbacks.
Six months into the operation, he came to work one morning and noticed that there had been a break-in into the storeroom. Forty bags of cement had been stolen.
Five months later, there was another unwelcome nocturnal visit. This time the thieves carried away the generator that powered the plant machinery, and some tools. On both occasions, there was no arrest.
“I felt deep disappointment and pain because it takes someone who knows about the equipment on site to plan something like this. To take away the generator is like grounding the business, but as merciful as God is, the business didn’t stop operating,” he states.
Maswabi relates that it takes a real entrepreneurial spirit to bounce back from major setbacks and still open for business as if nothing has happened. In his case, he had to grow up fast.? “When I started the business, it was all about me,” he explains the transformation he has gone through. “But that has changed. There are people who work here; it’s almost like they are under my care. These people and their families directly depend on the business for their livelihood. When that realisation dawns on you, failure ceases to be an option. I am now of the view that if I fail in this business I would have let down the entire nation.”
His reasoning is that young people have lost the nation’s trust, and they have to work hard to win back the confidence.
“If you ask 10 people randomly what they think of the youth grant, I am sure consensus will be that it’s a waste of money. This is because it has become the norm that after two or three months, a youth-owned business closes down. In as much as this grant is not adequate to establish a viable business, as young people we need to demonstrate that we are worth the trust and investment of the nation’s resources,” he says.
Having decided to diversify into agriculture, Maswabi has acquired a piece of land just outside Lobatse, which he plans to start ploughing this year.
His immediate plan is to grow beans on a commercial scale. He talks enthusiastically about the new job opportunities that the farming venture will open up. He has another reason for deciding on agriculture as his avenue for diversification.
“We have a situation in this country, and the situation is that we have no food,” he explains. “If South Africa stops selling to us we might find ourselves having to eat each other.”
And to demonstrate his faith in the future prospects of Lobatse, he tells me that the town will always be the HQ of the group he is building ÔÇô one brick at a time.
