A client signs off on a crucial project. You request the required inputs to begin. Then - total silence for weeks. Twelve hours before the deadline, they surface with frantic "URGENT" flags, expecting a last-minute miracle to salvage the timeline. Recently, when faced with this exact scenario, I made a deliberate choice: I said no.
I recently attended an insightful Fireside Chat with the new French Ambassador to Kenya, H.E. Mr. Wadid Benaabou, hosted at the Tribe Hotel Nairobi by the French Chamber of Commerce Kenya in partnership with National Bank of Kenya.
You have something this world needs. Whether it is your kindness, your compassion, your encouragement, or simply the way you make others feel seen - whatever your unique gift is, share it generously.
While visiting the Kwame Nkrumah Mausoleum in Accra, a single detail shared by our guide stopped me in my tracks. The structure is intentionally designed as an inverted, truncated tree - a stark architectural symbol of a life, legacy, and vision cut short before reaching its full canopy.
A towering tree is admired for its expansive canopy, but its height is entirely governed by its root system. In business, executive focus naturally gravitates toward the canopy: refining vision, driving expansion, and projecting top-line growth. Vision is vital, but strategic plans rarely fail from a lack of ambition. They fail when high-level strategy detaches from ground-level reality.
We live in a world obsessed with "extraordinary" moments - the viral wins, the sudden breakthroughs, and the rare strokes of genius. But those moments are like fireworks: they grab attention for five seconds, create a lot of noise, and then leave you in the dark.
A recent trip to Marrakech taught me a profound leadership lesson, right at the dinner table. In Morocco, meals center around a communal tagine, eaten directly from a single, shared dish. It is a beautiful masterclass in high-trust collaboration, operating on three unspoken rules:
The email came in while I was fast asleep. I happened to wake up in the middle of the night, checked my phone, and by 2:00 AM my mind had turned a small project delay into a total disaster. By 9:00 AM, the truth came out: it was just a simple misunderstanding that took five minutes to fix. The entire crisis had been manufactured right inside my own head.
In executive leadership, we are trained to neutralize external threats and competitors. However, coaching high-achievers has taught me that the most dangerous person in your business isn’t an outsider. It is the version of you that turns your finest leadership tools into weapons against yourself.
The most dangerous person in your office isn’t the one who lacks talent; it’s the one who hoards it. I recently spoke with an executive who couldn't understand why his team had stopped growing. "I give them the roadmap," he told me. But looking at his operation, I didn't see a team; I saw "Seedlings" kept in the dark, waiting for crumbs of information handed out like a scarce commodity. He was a gatekeeper, convinced he was only valuable if he was the only one with the keys.