California Business and Family Attorney

A client asked that I be on the board of a mobile cell company that was a start-up in the backwater country of Democratic Republic of the Congo. Being a young, rather naive lawyer, it sounded as a great opportunity. It was, except for two factors: 1) the people involved; and 2) the country involved. I misjudged both as I viewed them from an American prospective. Africa and Africans are different in many ways.

The start-up had the greatest potential in the world – profit was one, and the other to bring great benefit to the county with communications for the first time in their history. At that time the government was using short-wave radio to communicate with provinces capitals.

Fifteen years after it got off-the-ground with great effort and time on my part, the company has 4 million subscribers, had been merge red with a global cell phone company out of south Africa as the majority owner. The client and I started the company and got it going with 15,000 subscribers, but we did not have the capital needed. We transferred 51% to Vodacom, a large South African company with the promise they would put in substantial capital and grow the company. They did.

Fast forward Fifteen years later I was on the board of Vodacom-Congo. The headquarters was in Kinshasa, DRC. Vodacom, headquartered in South Africa was a mega telephone company and the majority owners of Vodacom-Congo.

I was to be paid $10,000 per board meeting, but my “partner” always stole the money. There were two American shareholders, but they were worst that the Africans. However, my original partner did pay for most of my quarterly trips from California to Kinshasa. Always an adventure – until a few years later I resigned for being tired of being used as the token white American.

On one (if not my last) I asked my wife accompany me. I am not sure she has forgiven me. It was for a board meeting, which included Vodacom executives to review and contract for a major purchase of telecommunication equipment for an expansion though- out the country. We had no power to decide, but could feel important in coming such a long-way. The amount involved was from $25,000,000 to $40,000,000, depending upon whose equipment was chosen.

After a 25-mile harrowing ride from the Kinshasa airport to one of two half-decent hotels in the city, we got to our room. The hotel was called the Grand Hotel de Kinshasa- and it was anything but grand. Originally an Inter-Continental Hotel 30-years prior with about 450 rooms the management must had prided themselves in not spending not one dollar in up-keep in the 30-years. The term “run down” would not do it justice. The carpet was 30 + years old. The place needed painting-years before. The front desk had a 6-foot malamute green primaid that looked like it was built by teenagers – and it was the pride of the hotel. The prices were in the US $300-$400 range as it was still a Western style hotel in a city of 8 million. There were few other hotels in the country. Guests were from the U.N. and other GMO aid groups; U.S. citizen were with a peace-keep forces in the Eastern part of the county, and a variety of businessmen and opportunities looking for a mining or other nefarious deal with someone. Casablanca in WW II looked civilized and on the up-and-up.

The ground floor had shops, which had nothing you would want to buy. Very strange off-brands with counterfeit designer labels. Men’s shoes were styled in various shares of brown to resemble leather which looked alike miniature canoes pretending to be shoes. A men’s size 10 looked as a size 15. Almost clown-like but that was the style in DRC.

The drive-way to the front of the hotel was about 300 feet from the street with “guards” on either side of the entrance with 10-foot bamboo poles. The poles were used to swat the prostitutes from walking up the driveway. They were kept on the sidewalk in a group of 10 to 15 black women. Always overdressed for the heat and humidity. There were few in the morning, but by early evening there were usually 10 to 20 walking and standing around the entrance.

Kinshasa is located on the Congo River and the hotel was a block from the river. Half-finished buildings line the area of the hotel – which was a better part of the city of 8,000,000. This really was and remains a failed country. Few tourist – some petty businessmen, United National officers from third-world countries sent to keep peace in DRC, and NGO’s executives who stay at the hotel. The price was not cheap – about US$400/night. There were no other choices in this god-forsaken poor city. They had room service – but no one answered. The TV had a couple of French channels – but an old tube TV that sometimes worked and sometimes did not. Bugs were on the balcony that were as big as apples. Names unknown, but looked dangerous.

At the entrance next to elevators there is a cramped waiting area with about 10 soft lounge chairs. Every day men people were waiting there to meet someone for a “deal.” A motley crew is too kind.

After the informal board meeting in the morning at a room at the business headquarters, a dinner meeting was set for that evening at one of the few “western style” restaurants in the city. The restaurant was one of a half-dozen or so in the city that were operated by Belgium or French ex-patriots with food we could stomach. The restaurant was named the Chez Paul’s on a quiet street. As we drove up in one of Vodcom’s SUV’s with driver and a local guard (who never bathed) sitting in the rear compartment with an AK-16) we saw 10 – 12 locals in front of the entrance. Some were children, some crippled, and some just pathetic. All poorly dressed. All were hoping from a hand-out from the Westerners, with money to go to dinner at a restaurant.

There were going to be 10 of us. My wife, me, Alieu, Keith who was a consultant from England, an older American investor with a round face with gray/white hair that we had picked up and called the Old Crocodile, two of the executives from Vodacom that flew up from Johannesburg, and two South Africans that were running the company in DRC. The tenth was a guest with a Chinese vendor of telecom equipment.

The guest was a stunning female Chinese. About 5’4” with a trim figure, but full breasts. She spoke English, with an American accent, but her choice of syntax and words was just a little “off.” The Her talk had more than a number of idioms, and many had a slight sexual overtone. She wore a tight (but not too tight) dress that showed her figure. She said she was 21 years old, but if you looked closely, she was more like 31 years of age – well made-up. No too much, so she must have been trained.

Overall, I would sum-up her appearance as stunning, but a sexual overtone.

There was the expected banter of what to order, what wine to order, and questions as to her as she was the stranger to all of us. She certainly had a story, and we learned she was one or two hundred the Chinese send to build cell towers, and she made it clear she had her own room.

Interesting she steered her questions as to specifics as to the contract, other bidders, and pricing. She openly stated she worked for Wei Wai (which is banded in the U.S.) and how she touted the fine technology the company. Towards the end of dinner, she zeroed on the Englishman who was a consultant. She was sitting next to him, and kept touching is arm. It was clear she thought he was a major decision maker for the contact. She was wrong, but no one, and certainly the consultant played up his role. At the end of the dinner she got a ride with the English consultant.

The next morning, I asked he had a good night. His answer was “great” but he was exhausted.

The Chinese got the contract, but because of price. She really was a commercial spy, and this was not usual. I learned later she attended a finishing school in China, but this purpose.

I still wonder if there was some off the books money that passed to the Vodacom Executives – and I will never know. China has bought most of mining and communications in Africa. There are no holds barred.