It was at the ‘007 Bar in Hilton, London. At the table were Kenya's High Commissioner Ngethe Njoroge, his brother, Foreign Affairs Cabinet minister Dr Njoroge Mungai, and their nephew Udi Gecaga.
They wanted to fix some business and were waiting for British buccaneer Roland' Tiny' Rowland – the man calling business shots in several African countries.
To protect his Kenyan empire, which was threatened by the rising Bruce Mackenzie, an insider in the Jomo Kenyatta government, Tiny Rowland had asked for help. It was decided to bring on board a 26-year-old banker, then dating Jomo Kenyatta's daughter.
This meeting in London was to discuss the matter and introduce Udi Gecaga, a brilliant graduate of Princeton and Trinity Cambridge, into the circuit of oligarchs. It was the first time Udi, a young man who studied French literature at the Sorbonne in Paris, was to meet the face of capitalism in Africa - the man described by Prime Minister Edward Heath as the "unpleasant and unacceptable face of capitalism."
Mr Ngethe and Dr Mungai had met Tiny Rowland before, and for his part, the High Commissioner had been entertained at Hedsor Wharf, the billionaire's residence by River Thames. Actually, Mr Ng'ethe had been introduced to Mr Rowland by Thomas Kanza, the man who introduced Mr Rowland to Zairean leader Mobutu Sese Seko.
At 28, Kanza was in 1961 Zaire's ambassador to United Nations and had helped Rowland to recover a 70 per cent stake of a mine in Katanga, which Mobutu had nationalised. The only two conditions were that Mobutu's uncle Joseph Litho, was to become deputy chairman of the company and that Tiny Rowland should make a donation to Mobutu's favourite charity.
Thus, when Rowland started having problems in Kenya, he asked Kanza for help – and that was when he was introduced to Kenya's High Commissioner in London at a meeting held at the Dorchester Grill.
Lonrho had bought a Kenyan conglomerate, Consolidated Holdings, in 1967 and had, two years later, bought Jim Slater's Motor Mart – one of the biggest in East Africa. Bruce Mackenzie, who used to own a house in Diani, invited Rowland for a business chat. He wanted a stake in return for protection from Kenyatta's men. Rowland understood.
The Diani meeting – between the two people who introduced Kenyans to high-stakes corruption – did not go well. "McKenzie was Kenyatta's link to the white community," the Rowland biographer wrote. And now, Lonrho had become the key foreign investor. According to Tom Bower, McKenzie did not hide his desires: "In return for a favourable influence with Kenya, he (McKenzie) required a large interest in Lonhro's business. The negotiation started.
"He was prepared to pay a reasonable price but not extortion," wrote Tiny Rowland's biographer, Tom Bower.
McKenzie had another layer of protection from Kenya's Attorney General, Charles Njonjo. McKenzie's threats were in an attempt to protect a company he owned with David Dobie, well known as D.T.Dobie. It had the Mercedes franchise in Kenya, meaning that a Kenyatta cabinet minister was the supplier of top-range government vehicles.
In those days, according to Bower, selling vehicles had become a lucrative business. "Kenya is my turf," McKenzie allegedly told Rowland. He also said to him that Kenyatta wanted to ban the import of cars – and, therefore, his new company. According to Bower, this is how they milked the Kenyan taxpayers.
"The importers of cars into all African countries were given two invoices by the European and Japanese motor manufacturers. The 'A invoice', with the higher price, was for the African government. The 'B invoice', with the lower amount, was the real price. The Kenyan government released sufficient US dollars to pay the higher amount on the 'A invoice' and the extra was deposited by the car manufacturer in a Swiss bank account. It was a simple method of avoiding Kenyan exchange controls and building tax-free profits."
What the biographer did not say was that this was theft – the origin of swindling government and which was carried by all government vehicle importers. It was this secret payment to a foreign bank account that would later feature in the CMC motors saga that involved Mr Njonjo and Jeremiah Kiereini.
Now, Tiny Rowland wanted a new face for his company in Nairobi – a person close to the presidency. When he told Mr Ngethe his predicament, the UK High Commissioner suggested Udi Gecaga.
"Fly him to London, immediately," said Rowland.
'Call me Tiny,' said Rowland, 'Can I call you Udi?' It was one way to make the young Gecaga feel at ease.
"Spicer (his East Africa manager) is failing to manage the business profitably and failing to beat off McKenzie,' complained Rowland. 'Would you be prepared to take over Spicer's job?'
Udi Gecaga, at 26, looked at Tiny Rowland in disbelief. "You can write your own cheque." The arrangement was that Spicer would remain for a brief period as the boss, and Udi would be deputy.
Back in the office, Rowland pulled out a personal cheque and wrote a five-figure sum. "Is this enough," he asked the man he had just tripled his salary. "It's for you and your family, take care of the political problems."
When the announcement of Gecaga's appointment was made, McKenzie was infuriated that Tiny Rowland was now working with his enemies. He informed Mr Njonjo and Minister for Home Affairs Daniel Arap Moi. They agreed to cancel the work permits of Lonrho European workers.
Gecaga went to see his would-be father-in-law Jomo Kenyatta. Moi's order was cancelled, and Tiny Rowland had a meeting arranged at State House. That is all Rowland needed to survive in Kenya, and he had the picture splashed on the front page of East African Standard, which he owned. He had now stepped on Moi, Njonjo, and McKenzie.
A few months later, Udi married the President's daughter – and now Tiny Rowland knew that he could easily make money in Kenya. As Udi and Jeni went for their honeymoon in Acapulco, Tiny Rowland showed up with his wife, Josie, the daughter of his Rhodesia manager.
Udi Gecaga soon became the Managing Director of Lonrho East Africa and had voting rights on the board. Thus, when a coup against Lonrho was organised in London, it was the African directors who saved Tiny Rowland. There was a promise: "If you help me win the battle, I'll make Lonrho a private company and you can all be the principal shareholders – equal shareholders, with me as part of revolutionary capitalism." They agreed. It was lie. Rowland had asked them to file affidavits on how he was the face of Lonrho in Africa and that the company's asset would be nationalized if he was removed.
"Rowland asked each to obtain expressions of support for himself from their governments, if possible from the President. In the meantime, Rowland continued, his lawyers were looking for a nervous judge who could be convinced that Lonrho's assets in Africa would be nationalised if Rowland were deposed," Bower wrote.
Finally, and with the help of Udi Gecaga and his African directors, Tiny Rowland survived.
The enmity between Rowland, Bruce Mckenzie, Moi, and Njonjo would continue unabated. On May 24, 1978, Bruce Mckenzie was killed after a bomb was planted in his plane by President Idi Amin's handlers. Among the dead, ironically, was Lonhro's of head of exports, Gavin Whitelaw. Infuriated and wondering what his manager was doing in "an enemy's plane," Rowland ordered all his managers to skip the funeral. 'No one is allowed to attend Whitelaw's funeral. Those who disobey are to have their pay withheld.'
And when he failed to be the oil broker between the Arab producers and the African nations, he blamed Gecaga for failing to bribe African ministers during the OAU summit to pass the deal.
Three months after McKenzie's death – Jomo Kenyatta died in 1978, and it was Moi who took over. Rowland knew he was now cooked. After Moi was sworn in by lunchtime, Gecaga was dismissed as a Kenya Airways director. "I am in trouble," he said to a colleague.
Duncan Sandys, a Lonhro consultant, suggested that they should change. "Duncan Sandys ordered that the whole editorial team of Lonrho's Kenyan newspaper, the Standard, should be replaced by Moi's supporters." And as a result, Njonjo sent his men there, led by George Githii.
Rowland then turned to Gecaga and asked him to resign. Interestingly, Udi had created three businesses, including the Kibuku brewery. He demanded to buy the Lonrho shares. "I made you," thundered Rowland, "you think you can buy me out. I could get you jailed…sign the transfers!"
Gecaga refused to sign, and instead, he fled the country. For two years, Gecaga remained in the US – intimidated by Tiny Rowland. In his absence, the board decided to remove him. And that is how Rowland decided not to hire a brilliant man.
Tiny Rowland was looking for a man who could have direct access to Moi and was not sophisticated. He was told of Mark Too and went to look for him.
"Can you get President Moi on the phone," Rowland asked Mark Too. He picked up the phone, and Moi picked up. They spoke, and he was hired as Lonrho's deputy chairman. Moi would later demand the Lonrho land in Uasin Gishu to build Moi University and Moi International Airport.
The government would pay Tiny Rowland Sh200 million and top-up with Uplands Bacon Factory and its land in Lari. Ironically, this was owned by local pig farmers. He also "bought" the Standard newspaper.
Meanwhile, It was this Uasin Gishu land that landed Mark Too's family in trouble since they took the balance of the land, which was to go to the Sirikwa community. That is how loyalties shift with each government change.
