The Mukwano I knew

By Patrick Bitature

This week we have lost the greatest Ugandan entrepreneur of our time, Amirali Karmali, more popularly known as Mzee Mukwano.

I have known Mzee Mukwano for more than 40 years and most of what I am today is due to him. And I am not alone.

He has helped countless people through school - as he did to me. Helped countless more in business - as he did to me. And he has been a steadfast friend and source of support to countless more - as he was to me.

I first met Mukwano around about 1977. My mother was the secretary for the chief of operations at Uganda Airlines, a man I knew only as Hamid. Mukwano had come to charter the Uganda Airlines' Hercules plane and I happened to be around the office then.

He was a short man, an unassuming man, but clearly a serious businessman, who would charter the plane to bring in goods that were in high demand here.

He run a popular wholesale shop in Nakasero - Egesa Commercial Agencies, a beehive of activity and the go-to place for anything and everything at the time.

I was just out of O-Level at that time. He encouraged me to study hard and that he would pay my fees in the UK when I passed my A-level.

Meanwhile, I was hustling the best I could to put food on the table for my family, having lost my father a few years before. Between school and trying to make a living, I bumped into Mzee Mukwano often and saw how he ran his business at close quarters. We had numerous conversations about business and life.

Before he went into trade, he was a truck driver, ferrying cargo from Mombasa to Uganda and on to Congo, Rwanda and Sudan. I think he knew every road and had many stories to tell about his adventures driving up and down the region.

Amrali Karmali passed away last week and was laid to rest on Saturday. AFP Photo

When Amin expelled the Asians, he stayed around, not only survived but thrived as a trader. He spoke fluent Rutooro, Luganda and Swahili, that was the edge that set him apart in business and probably kept him safe during those hairy days, where it was not advisable to be a success. An Asian success at that.

He had a red Mitsubishi for a long time, which he drove himself.

I eventually completed my A-Level and was admitted to Makerere University to do B.Com. I reminded Mzee Mukwano about his promise and he gave me the green light to apply to a university of my choice. With the postal service then, correspondence between the universities of my choice and myself took forever. It was not until a year into my course at Makerere that Mukwano gave me £10,000 in cash as my tuition to go and study.

That was barely enough for a year at the London School of Economics where I wanted to go but was more than enough to see me through a two-year course at the London School of Accountancy.

When I returned, I went to visit him with what I thought were good gifts to express my gratitude for what he had done for me. Right before my eyes, he distributed the gifts among his workers. He said I owed him nothing and that he was glad I was able to make my way in the UK.

He was at the time about to open his factory. I asked whether I could be of assistance. He put me in charge of cash collections with the warning that I should not get involved in any corrupt dealings. There was a shortage of soap and cooking oil at the time and some people

would get allocation chits sell them at a premium and make money that way. As a result, the grateful buyers would often leave sizable tips which we would log as part of the sales.

I reported a big surplus one day - that we had earned more than we had sold and Mzee Mukwano was not amused, he insisted that the books must balance. That was the end of the tips.

After four months, Mzee Mukwano decided I was wasted in the cash office, that I should break out on my own. A cigarette smoker all the time I knew him, he got the silver foil from a cigarette packet and on the back of it, instructed a business partner in Dubai to give me $20,000 and sent me on my way.

This was 1988. I had wangled a deal with DHL to supply them with calculators, the 14-digit ones because of our currency issues. I made my way to Dubai and found the business partner, a textiles merchant. He refused to give me the cash and forced $20,000 worth of textiles on me.

I called Mzee Mukwano to complain, his advice, "If you want calculators and the man gives you textiles, sell the textiles and buy the calculators." With my brand-new accountancy credentials, this had not occurred to me.

Never in a hurry. He was rarely if ever fazed. External appearances meant nothing to him. His humility grew the wealthier he became.

Since 1995 he ceded control of the flagship Mukwano Industries to his son and went off to build another fortune as a tea exporter, with tea estates in the west and unrivalled trucking operation. He monitored this from Kampala, though the urban legend was that he had relocated to Fort Portal.

He was my model for his humility, his wisdom, his steadfastness and his compassion.

Mzee Mukwano was 80 and I - he referred to me as Mutabani, shared in only a small part of his life. His visible wealth is only a fraction of his numerous achievements as mentor and sponsor of the many out there like myself.

Two days ago, mzee Mukwano summoned Attorney General William Byaruhanga and I to see him. He sensed the end was near. We bid him farewell.

Rest in Peace Mzee.

The writer is the chairman of the Private Sector Foundation of Uganda