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Bee-Like Feedback  An old African proverb loosely translated says “It is the housefly that loves you that licks your sores”. Now, my basic primary school science taught me that as a fly lays eggs on garbage and feaces it picks pathogens on its legs and transfers them wherever it lands. So the image of the licking housefly is not a very pleasant one. The proverb means, though, that it is the one that cares about you that will give you the most candid feedback. If you have experienced being given feedback, you know exactly how painful that can sometimes be. Most organizations, for the last few months, been going through performance reviews and that comes with a barrage of feedback. My weird mind likes to bucket things in threes, so I’ll bucket my feedback experience into three insect  groups; The Butterflies - Their feedback blinds you with color. They are afraid of the tension they might create by giving you developmental feedback so they flap their wings and butter you w...

 The Leadership Joyride. Phase 2-Jesus take the wheel. So you decide to have a go at this thing called leadership. You are generous and you need to show everyone how it should be done….. It hits you, within the first 5 minutes of getting behind the wheel, that you are dealing with a machine that just doesn’t like you. It does not help matters that the driving instructor is a no nonsense, condescending human being. His orders are staccato. “Engage the gear! Step the clutch! Not the brake, the clutch! Now step on the accelerator. Not that hard! Brake! Brake! Brake! Brake..” You are sweating and fighting hard not to cry .How does anyone keep sane in this madness?. And that is just starting the car. There is the story of taking your eyes off the road to check your mirrors and the delicate balance while you go uphill. Don’t get me started on the nightmare of overtaking other cars. You don’t even remember that the car has a radio but your heart is frantically singing, Carrie Underwood’s;...

The Leadership Joy Ride-Phase 1(The Scrub) My mother is proud of the fact that she learnt how to drive on the streets of Kampala. If you have been to Kampala, you know exactly what I mean: The narrow one-lane streets that miraculously hold traffic in 3 lanes. The hooting, shouting and threatening from the impatient matatu drivers. The relentless police whistles that seem to be saying something that you never quite understand…. She calmly drives through that jungle, weaving between cars in spaces that only she can find. Giving taxi drivers that look that leaves them cowering and quietly moving to let her pass. It’s hilarious to watch and it always makes me think of how the journey to skillfully driving through that jungle is a lot like the one to great leadership. I have journeyed through 3 main phases of leadership and I have given them names that you will only find in the quiet, reflective, sometimes entertaining corridors of my mind. Phase 1-The Scrubs If you are as old as I am, you ...

Do not Trade your Mountain She sashays into the workplace. Emboldened by the promise of youth. Enamored by the success that precedes her. Walking in the steps of her forerunners. The world is hers to take. The sky is hers to reach. Beguiled by what she sees beyond that glass ceiling:  A promise of triumph, stardom, and splendor.  She takes her first step. Checking the rungs. Feeling for brokenness It holds. A crowd gathers to watch. Some cheer. Some scoff. As she draws closer, the rungs get weaker.  “You are not ready. You have not tried it  You are too young. You are too old”. The weight of the words just won’t let them hold. Fear and doubt, shroud her in a cloak of darkness. She cannot see her, oh so sweet, goal.  Almost there…she takes her first shot at breaking the ceiling. Nothing. Again and again and again…. The voices again. “You are not ready. You have not worked for it enough”. You are a woman!” There it is. That word! Woman! Then it dawns! The glass is...

A Tribute to Ruth  Ruth, I did not know you well. But I knew your spirit. Those few minutes when you used your story, To Teach, to Give Hope, to Comfort, I saw your spirit. I saw a zeal for life. A fierce hope.  I saw humility. I saw selflessness. That day I learnt some more Swahili. “Nimechoka sana”. Yet your spirit soldiered on. Your last message to a group of ladies “Pray for me.” No fear. No self -pity. Just, “Pray for me”. 3 days later. A Herald with a message. Words said with the finality of a gavel. “Ruth is gone.” Done. Finished. No more pain. No more needles. Peace at last. The Sadness. The Confusion. The Guilt. Words not said. Deeds not done. Prayers not said…. My only hope in that moment, a Scripture. “The flesh returns to dust, but the spirit returns to He who made it.” So, I have made a promise. No to Quibble. Not to Grumble Not to Pursue Senseless Vanities. Not to Tarry. Not to Hurry  Not to take each fleeting breathe for granted. But I will fight. I will ho...