AS WE walked out of a large Kampala supermarket on Sunday morning, I cracked one of those ‘Dad jokes’ that the teenagers roll eyes over, and my fourteen-year old obliged.

We were approaching the fellow at the exit doors and I said, “Let’s see how well we have performed this time!” then handed over my receipts.

The joke is not fresh any more. By that point I still believed those fellows at the supermarket exits marking receipts are really just underemployed, because there is little seriousness applied to their study of the receipts.

The chap overheard me and joked back: “You have done very, very well this time!”, giving me a very large tick with a flourish.

Outside, I explained to my daughter, Mshukuru, the assumed purpose of that job and how the security element was not really assured. She surprised me by asking, “How much is he paid to do that job?”

I was taken aback. The thought had never, ever occurred to me. I was also quite proud, because she was clearly living our annual mantra: ‘Think About Other People’.

For all the years I have declared that boring and seemingly unnecessary task to be useless, I had never thought about how much the fellows doing it earn at it or how little they relish it. They are not even on my list of people that get little tips at the end of my shopping operations. Until now.

The day before, I had had a ‘Think About Other People’ moment walking around my own home when I noticed a pair of rubber bathroom slippers that was half gone. It reminded me of the 1980s when we would wear those things down to near-nothing at the balls of our feet.

Unbelievable! I traced the owner and asked her how she could possibly wear those slippers around the home – especially when the cost of replacement could easily be met every weekend without causing a hiccup or a yawn.

I felt bad, obviously, and very guilty of being so starkly oblivious to people right here in my own home.

To be fair, though, she explained that they were not worn out; a couple of the canine residents kept eating all slippers in sight, so she thought it would make no sense buying a new pair.

(I immediately sent for a pair of Crocs for her, since we had no evidence that the dogs had not yet developed a taste for those).

By Sunday afternoon these two incidents were still popping in and out of my mind as I waited for Jaffar Tonda to join us at our grand monthly family gathering where he would take the opportunity to showcase his newest product.

I have known Jaffar for many years, since the day he made a presentation as a young budding entrepreneur entering into real estate development with the specific goal of making home ownership affordable for more Ugandans of sensible means.

The panel of business mentors had the opportunity to interact with Jaffar et al, so I got to ask him more questions and invite him to other engagements. It’s not a long story at all; he made so much sense that he is still, to this day, my official Real Estate Developer whenever I can invest.

His approach is to build communities of like-minded people and make the investments work for all by leaning on that community spirit. There is soul in what he does.

One of the investments is a forest plantation called the Amaya Tree Estate, in Nakasongola, which Jaffar set up years ago for “busy” city dwellers to also own forests on five- or ten-acre plots while making a difference to the environment in general.

He has developed it consistently over the years even to the point of eco-tourism being on the cards.

But on Sunday he was showing us the Save80 Stove and Wonderbox. The details should not weigh you down – contact him and buy one. They make sense to own and have been on the market in other countries for a decade or so now; we are just slow to the party.

I assumed his incentive was the fuel for these stoves – which is firewood from anywhere but can also come from the Amaya forests we have invested in. Not large pieces of timber but small twigs that can keep this stove going for hours on end.

No. Jaffar surprised me. ‘Think About Other People’, he started off by saying. He found that most people of modest means suffer major domestic costs on this specific item on their “sente za kameesa” – charcoal. Some estimates, he says, put it at Ushs3,000 a day for a small household on charcoal alone.

Eish! Worse – to produce one kilogramme of charcoal, he said, one has to burn ten kilogrammes of wood.

Basically, when he heard about the stoves and saw them at work he realised he HAD TO take them on and spread them around so that those ‘other people’ who can ill afford charcoal can comfortably afford to cook meals in their homes.

We can do so as well; buy someone in your neighbourhood or village a Save80 stove this Christmas, for instance, and save them loads of money.

Thinking about other people is really very easy and affordable, especially for many of us living at a certain level of comfort – all through to buying your housemaid new slippers or occasionally tipping that guy at the supermarket exit. ‘Think about other people’.

Simon Kaheru

www.skaheru.com
@skaheru