I’m American so it’s hard for me to resist any “underdog” story. So despite not being a big football fan, I found myself completely caught up in the emotion of Equatorial Guinea’s stunning upset over top ranked Senegal last week during the Africa Cup of Nations. The images of players from the lowly 151st ranked team celebrating after the final whistle in front of their home team crowd was incredibly inspiring. David Alvarez the player who scored the winning goal actually broke out into tears. My heart swelled; it was one of those magical and rare human moments when dreams really do come true.
Having not followed the team’s earlier match against Libya I was unaware of another “dream” coming true for the players and surely adding to their glee: A whopping bonus granted to them by Teodorin Nguema Obiang Mangue, Equatorial Guinea’s Minister of Agriculture and Forestry and also son of the country’s disreputable President, Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo. “Teodorin,” a notorious playboy, pledged to pay the team $1m (USD) if they beat Libya and an additional $20,000 for each goal scored. After the team’s victory over Libya, Teodorin made good on this promise and offered more bonuses in the event of future tournament wins.
After the press event, Teodorin faced immediate scrutiny: Where did this large sum of money come from? How could an official making approximately $6,000 per month – moreover, one governing a country ravaged by poverty -- hand over $1m? These questions were not surprising given the numerous legal proceedings against Teodorin and the widespread accusations of his and his father’s ruthless looting of the country’s wealth. Last October, the US alone filed an action to seize $70m of Teodorin’s assets including a $38.5m Gulfstream jet, a $30m Malibu mansion, a $500,000+ Ferrari and – bizarrely – over $1.8m in Michael Jackson memorabilia. (Yes, there was a crystal-covered glove.)
What was surprising to me was the lack of attention on team and players’ acceptance of the bonuses. The award of a bonus to a salaried worker as a surprise after his or her performing “above and beyond the call of duty” is a legitimate management practice. The award of a bonus to a salesperson on commission for achieving an agreed upon result is also common. But, Teodorin’s promised bonus was neither: This money was dangled out before the players as a lure to perform.
The players on the Equatorial Guinea football team are presumably salaried employees paid to compete for their country. Playing well and making goals is their job. Implicit in Teordorin’s bonus scheme is the assumption that people will not do their jobs well unless they are offered something “more” – that it’s somehow OK for people not to try their best under normal circumstances.
Where is the dignity of the players? Why are they not offended at the suggestion that they wouldn’t otherwise have performed exceptionally out of their innate professionalism and sense of national pride? Is tremendous wealth so universally idolized that it has trumped their basic need for self-respect?
In the Kenyan context, I finding myself increasingly forgiving of a related “norm:” those in certain lower levels of public service who will only execute their responsibilities if given something “extra.” Think traffic cop, file clerk, etc. -- not those at the upper levels taking bribes to buy their 3rd mansion on the Riviera.
I spoke about this with an officer who pulled me over recently (OK, yes, I admit I was on the phone) who painted a harsh economic reality for me: very low pay and the expectation to “share” bribes up the chain of command. Of course, this is no excuse, but what really struck me was the potential impact on morale. The act of asking for something “more” to perform a job your employer doesn’t seem to value is fundamentally degrading. And, on an institutional level the deflation of self-worth of tens of thousands of public servants who touch our lives every day undermines our collective national dignity.
There’s a scene in a Hollywood movie, Out of Sight, where, unsolicited, a mischievous Ving Rhames helps a woman carry her groceries to her car. As Rhames places her bags in the trunk, the woman patronizingly says, “Now, young man, I haven’t asked you for help, so don’t expect a tip!” To which the hulking Ving Rhames replies as relieves her of her keys “That’s OK Ma’am - I’ll just take your car.”
Until we address Kenya’s underlying inequality – including the incredible chasm in pay between lowest level civil servants and our leaders – we shouldn’t be surprised if over time we all find ourselves giving a much bigger “tip” than we can afford or forgive – that is, the wholesale break-down of Kenya’s national pride.
Paula Lowitt is Deputy CEO and COO of Inuka Kenya Trust and a member of the Ni Sisi! Social Movement. This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
