August 18, 2006
I’ve developed into a world-class schmoozer. (Before I go on, can I tell you how delighted I am that schmoozer is in the Microsoft Word dictionary.)
Last night, Rebecca had to stand in for her boss at a reception featuring some big muckety-mucks (muckety got the squiggly line) from Citigroup. Their head of international corporate banking was doing a tour of Africa, and Cameroon was the last stop. Along for the ride was the head of their Eastern Europe, Middle East and Africa division (I think that’s it), the head of sub-Saharan operations as well as the Citigroup Cameroon team. The acting head of mission for the U.S. embassy was there with his wife, Pinky, who appeared to be Asian and not pink at all. Big business people were in town from Douala. Tyco, the company that brought you Dennis Kozlowski and peeing ice statues at birthday parties, has an affiliate here called Security Dog, which as you can imagine is a private security firm. It seems appropriate that Tyco is here. On that note, several Cameroonian government officials attended the event as well, including the finance minister, whose name really is Polycarpe Abah Abah, Jonah.
I was on my game. I don’t think I made a face when I was introduced to Pinky. In fact, I let Rick make the obligatory “like your finger” joke, holding up his right pinky. I mentioned to the big Citigroup guy that my sister can see his office from her apartment window, and that at night it’s quite a view. When I found out that the head of sub-Saharan operations for Citigroup was Czech, I talked a bit about studying in Prague, the neighborhood where I lived and what I was actually there to study (NATO expansion, privatization and the split of Czechoslovakia in 1938). I even wore a tie.
But I remembered Rusty’s rules from “Ocean’s 11”: be funny but don’t be memorable, etc. I didn’t tell the big Citigroup guy that “Pookie” could see the office. I left it at my sister. I didn’t talk to the Czech guy about Jaromir Jagr or Petr Prucha or the Rangers until the end of the night, nor did I mention that what I really studied in Prague was beer and hockey, in that order. I didn’t even talk about peeing ice sculptures with the guy from Security Dog, but that was mostly because I couldn’t say peeing ice sculpture in French. One day.
And then it was time for dinner. At first Rebecca and I were way out at the end of the room, away from everyone. But because a few people didn’t show up, we got put at the table closest to the podium where Citigroup folks gave their speeches. It was at this point that I lost it a bit. As the speakers took their turns thanking honorable government ministers, members of the diplomatic corps and distinguished guests, I had a “what am I doing here” moment. Since when am I a distinguished guest? And then I started to think about clubs Groucho Marx didn’t want to join, which I had already mentioned to Rebecca at the cocktail session. I fought hard to hold back a good, long laugh. I am happy to report that I won the battle.
Bec and I sat with the Czech guy, as well as some other high Citigroup officials and business people, including the Security Dog. The Secretary General in the Ministry of Health was sitting with us, but he wasn’t interested in talking all that much. Mostly because it’s hard to talk to a Cameroonian government official without saying, “You know, if you didn’t steal all the money, you really could develop a working country here.” People tried. The Czech guy asked him about hospitals and the health program that gets the most money thrown at it. You won’t be surprised to hear that more than 70 percent of Cameroon’s hospitals are either run by religious institutions or are private. It’s not that the government doesn’t have the money, of course, but much like the health problem that gets the most money thrown at it, the cash goes to the ministers’ anti-starvation program.
We overheard Security Dog berating the Secretary General about why there are no comprehensive HIV testing and anti-retroviral programs. Six of the Dog’s employees are HIV-positive and the company pays for their treatment, he said. The Secretary’s response was essentially that money doesn’t solve everything. Judging from the ample belly menacing the buttons on his finely tailored three-piece suit, it solves a few problems.
An African guy sitting at our table told us about his father’s cynical political platform, should he ever run for office. Our companion said his dad wanted to publicly state that he and all his ministers, upon taking office, would immediately each take $5 million from the state treasury. I imagine that other appointees would get something less, but we didn’t discuss it. After their version of a signing bonus, each minister would then vow never to take anything again, other than their regular salaries, and to work solely for the benefit of the people and the nation. They would also vow to leave office after one seven-year term.
The sad part is, I guarantee that political party would win in Cameroon. First of all, it’s far more honest than the nonsense the government here spews about fighting corruption. Second, it’s far less money than the government here steals. Let’s say that 30 ministers get $5 million each, one-time only. That’s $150 million. Thrown in another $50 million or so for lower government officials, again one-time only. That’s nothing compared to the amount of money that disappears from the Cameroonian government’s coffers every year. No one knows how much the Godfather is worth, but it’s a lot more than $5 million. He’s been in power since 1982, and his wealth is probably unimaginable to the non-kleptocratic dictator. Then throw in all the other officials on the farm. It’s staggering.
So Cameroonians would find the $5 million pledge a bargain compared to what’s been happening.
I also became even more firmly convinced that businesses want to help get this sorted out. It’s not out of the goodness of their hearts, but who cares about motivation. We need results. Banks and financial institutions are tired of being left holding the bag for corrupt politicians. That’s not to say that many bankers and banks aren’t happily helping. Enough are tired of being targeted by activists and the press. Also, business people are starting to realize that corruption and unrest are bad for investors, and therefore for the bottom line. Finally, poverty and corruption limits the number of people who can buy whatever it is they’re selling.
I understand that all it takes is a few business people willing to play ball with the thieves to make everything I said seem hopelessly idealistic. It happens every day here. But I really think many are starting to realize that good legal systems, relatively clean politicians and a stable country are good for business. And that, I think, is far more important than any development money.
…..
Here’s more hard-hitting, thousands-of-miles-away reporting on the for DRC elections .
Tomorrow, I go for my first haircut in Cameroon. I got it done in France, so it’s been about two months. I was hoping to string it out until October, when I can go to Astor Place, but I’m starting to look like Chewbacca. Here’s hoping they use scissors.
I’ve developed into a world-class schmoozer. (Before I go on, can I tell you how delighted I am that schmoozer is in the Microsoft Word dictionary.)
Last night, Rebecca had to stand in for her boss at a reception featuring some big muckety-mucks (muckety got the squiggly line) from Citigroup. Their head of international corporate banking was doing a tour of Africa, and Cameroon was the last stop. Along for the ride was the head of their Eastern Europe, Middle East and Africa division (I think that’s it), the head of sub-Saharan operations as well as the Citigroup Cameroon team. The acting head of mission for the U.S. embassy was there with his wife, Pinky, who appeared to be Asian and not pink at all. Big business people were in town from Douala. Tyco, the company that brought you Dennis Kozlowski and peeing ice statues at birthday parties, has an affiliate here called Security Dog, which as you can imagine is a private security firm. It seems appropriate that Tyco is here. On that note, several Cameroonian government officials attended the event as well, including the finance minister, whose name really is Polycarpe Abah Abah, Jonah.
I was on my game. I don’t think I made a face when I was introduced to Pinky. In fact, I let Rick make the obligatory “like your finger” joke, holding up his right pinky. I mentioned to the big Citigroup guy that my sister can see his office from her apartment window, and that at night it’s quite a view. When I found out that the head of sub-Saharan operations for Citigroup was Czech, I talked a bit about studying in Prague, the neighborhood where I lived and what I was actually there to study (NATO expansion, privatization and the split of Czechoslovakia in 1938). I even wore a tie.
But I remembered Rusty’s rules from “Ocean’s 11”: be funny but don’t be memorable, etc. I didn’t tell the big Citigroup guy that “Pookie” could see the office. I left it at my sister. I didn’t talk to the Czech guy about Jaromir Jagr or Petr Prucha or the Rangers until the end of the night, nor did I mention that what I really studied in Prague was beer and hockey, in that order. I didn’t even talk about peeing ice sculptures with the guy from Security Dog, but that was mostly because I couldn’t say peeing ice sculpture in French. One day.
And then it was time for dinner. At first Rebecca and I were way out at the end of the room, away from everyone. But because a few people didn’t show up, we got put at the table closest to the podium where Citigroup folks gave their speeches. It was at this point that I lost it a bit. As the speakers took their turns thanking honorable government ministers, members of the diplomatic corps and distinguished guests, I had a “what am I doing here” moment. Since when am I a distinguished guest? And then I started to think about clubs Groucho Marx didn’t want to join, which I had already mentioned to Rebecca at the cocktail session. I fought hard to hold back a good, long laugh. I am happy to report that I won the battle.
Bec and I sat with the Czech guy, as well as some other high Citigroup officials and business people, including the Security Dog. The Secretary General in the Ministry of Health was sitting with us, but he wasn’t interested in talking all that much. Mostly because it’s hard to talk to a Cameroonian government official without saying, “You know, if you didn’t steal all the money, you really could develop a working country here.” People tried. The Czech guy asked him about hospitals and the health program that gets the most money thrown at it. You won’t be surprised to hear that more than 70 percent of Cameroon’s hospitals are either run by religious institutions or are private. It’s not that the government doesn’t have the money, of course, but much like the health problem that gets the most money thrown at it, the cash goes to the ministers’ anti-starvation program.
We overheard Security Dog berating the Secretary General about why there are no comprehensive HIV testing and anti-retroviral programs. Six of the Dog’s employees are HIV-positive and the company pays for their treatment, he said. The Secretary’s response was essentially that money doesn’t solve everything. Judging from the ample belly menacing the buttons on his finely tailored three-piece suit, it solves a few problems.
An African guy sitting at our table told us about his father’s cynical political platform, should he ever run for office. Our companion said his dad wanted to publicly state that he and all his ministers, upon taking office, would immediately each take $5 million from the state treasury. I imagine that other appointees would get something less, but we didn’t discuss it. After their version of a signing bonus, each minister would then vow never to take anything again, other than their regular salaries, and to work solely for the benefit of the people and the nation. They would also vow to leave office after one seven-year term.
The sad part is, I guarantee that political party would win in Cameroon. First of all, it’s far more honest than the nonsense the government here spews about fighting corruption. Second, it’s far less money than the government here steals. Let’s say that 30 ministers get $5 million each, one-time only. That’s $150 million. Thrown in another $50 million or so for lower government officials, again one-time only. That’s nothing compared to the amount of money that disappears from the Cameroonian government’s coffers every year. No one knows how much the Godfather is worth, but it’s a lot more than $5 million. He’s been in power since 1982, and his wealth is probably unimaginable to the non-kleptocratic dictator. Then throw in all the other officials on the farm. It’s staggering.
So Cameroonians would find the $5 million pledge a bargain compared to what’s been happening.
I also became even more firmly convinced that businesses want to help get this sorted out. It’s not out of the goodness of their hearts, but who cares about motivation. We need results. Banks and financial institutions are tired of being left holding the bag for corrupt politicians. That’s not to say that many bankers and banks aren’t happily helping. Enough are tired of being targeted by activists and the press. Also, business people are starting to realize that corruption and unrest are bad for investors, and therefore for the bottom line. Finally, poverty and corruption limits the number of people who can buy whatever it is they’re selling.
I understand that all it takes is a few business people willing to play ball with the thieves to make everything I said seem hopelessly idealistic. It happens every day here. But I really think many are starting to realize that good legal systems, relatively clean politicians and a stable country are good for business. And that, I think, is far more important than any development money.
…..
Here’s more hard-hitting, thousands-of-miles-away reporting on the for DRC elections .
Tomorrow, I go for my first haircut in Cameroon. I got it done in France, so it’s been about two months. I was hoping to string it out until October, when I can go to Astor Place, but I’m starting to look like Chewbacca. Here’s hoping they use scissors.
posted by Evan Weinberger at 8:04 AM
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