Black Like You

by Mashaba, Herman;

  Within seven months, Black Like Me had repaid its debt to Walter Dube. All the partners were earning well. Of course, we bought ourselves the luxuries we felt we deserved – fine clothes, new homes and fancy cars; but if we thought we could spend with abandon, Connie quickly brought us back to reality. Joseph, Johan and I were out on the road for most of the day, and it was inevitable that we sometimes slipped into a daydream and exceeded the speed limit. But Joseph was the worst – he was notorious for getting speeding fines. He felt it was acceptable to expect the company to pay his fines since he usually got them while out on the road on business. Connie, however, was having none of it; she decided that Black Like Me was not responsible for the partners’ misdemeanours. When Joseph tossed outstanding fines onto her desk, she ignored them and refused to pay them.

  It wasn’t too long before a warrant of arrest was issued to Joseph for outstanding fines, and when he returned to the office after appearing in traffic court he was furious. “I put my fines on your desk; you should have paid them!” he said to Connie.

  “I’m sorry, but Black Like Me won’t pay for personal speeding fines; the company isn’t going to absorb costs arising from bad driving,” she replied in her placid manner. No amount of gentle persuasion would get her to budge from her non-payment policy on traffic fines. It was this kind of resolve and commitment to running the company professionally that made us all realise that Connie always had the interests of the company at heart.

  Inevitable obstacles and challenges cemented the foundations of the partnership in the new business; during these difficulties, we all came to realise that we were doing our best for the company and that we could trust each other.

  Our first major order outside the Gauteng area came from East London: a R25 000 order from Andile Jamela, our agent in Mdantsane in East London. It was a massive order, and the customer wanted it filled almost immediately. We were a new company, and understandably the customer was rather circumspect about our promise to deliver. But on our side we were concerned that we would send the product and not get paid for it. The order was one we could not afford to pass up, and I thought of a way to break the impasse.

  “We three will deliver the products personally, in our bakkies,” I said to my partners. Forging a relationship with the customer would ensure future orders that we wanted and needed. So we arranged to meet the customer in King William’s Town, and from there on the transaction went smoothly. Joseph and I had arranged to spend a week with Andile in East London to help promote the products, and Johan drove back to Pretoria after delivering the order. After just a few days in the area, visiting salons and demonstrating the product, we managed to sell most of Andile’s stock. It was a win-win situation for both parties, and we looked forward to returning to the Black Like Me factory to prepare an even bigger order to ship to him.

  At the time, Connie was overwhelmed by the huge local demand for stock. She urged Joseph and me to get back as soon as possible, so we drove back from East London and sent our delivery vehicles back to Pretoria by rail.

  Our intention had been to focus on one geographical area at a time, to saturate it with our products and build it up before moving on to the next area. But fortune smiled on us, and the products had grown wings that we’d have been foolish to clip.

  Johan admits that in the first year of business he was reluctant to write down the Black Like Me formulas. He felt that at any time we could turn around and say we no longer needed him, so he hung on to the secret formulas until he realised that his doubts were groundless and that we weren’t going to dishonour our agreement with him. It was just as well we reached this level of complete trust, a trust that has endured and grown into a deep friendship, because when Black Like Me started gaining on SuperKurl, we had to deal with Leon Thompson. He had set out on a campaign to discredit us.

  When we started our company, SuperKurl’s perm lotion was selling for R83, and we budgeted that we could sell the same-sized perm lotion for R78. Thompson competed with us by sending his reps to the salons to promote a “buy one, get one free” offer. So, during a staff meeting about this I said, “Okay, let’s go head-to-head and offer the same deal.” But Black Like Me was hampered because of our limited equipment; SuperKurl had the advantage over us of having the equipment and the staff to churn out massive quantities of the product. However, Thompson made a bad mistake in miscalculating our commitment to our company.

  Perm lotions are usually thickened with cellulose, so the way we made the lotion was to boil water in the 200-litre tank and then sieve in five kilograms of cellulose; the mixture had to be cooked until it thickened, and then allowed to cool. This slow method of production was a great disadvantage in our attempt to equal SuperKurl’s offer, but we refused to be beaten. Johan and Joseph brainstormed how to get around this, so that we wouldn’t be knocked back by SuperKurl.

  “Maybe the solution lies in our turnaround time,” Johan suggested, and proposed conducting an experiment.

  “Let’s try putting cold water directly into the drum and then adding the cellulose. Then we allow it to swirl, and then add a couple of grams of ammonia, and then we put all the other chemicals in,” he suggested.

  We had nothing to lose, so we tried this immediately. Thankfully, Johan’s innovative plan worked, cutting down the production time and allowing us to compete against SuperKurl – proving that we could produce our quality products in a factory twenty times smaller than theirs.

  As is the case with every new business, it’s impossible to factor in all the contingencies and setbacks in a business plan, because many of these difficulties arise only once you get started. But having Johan’s expertise and resourcefulness was a major boost in keeping staff spirit buoyant – and, indeed, in keeping the business afloat – when many may have given up. Those early days proved that we were all fighters, and we faced the challenges that arose with calm optimism and a dedication to building Black Like Me into a major contender in the black haircare product market.

  Thanks to apartheid policies, our factory in Ga-Rankuwa was off the beaten track, as I’ve mentioned, and its remoteness made access to many clients difficult; this was compounded by the fact that there were no telephone lines in the area. Being unable to communicate with our clients was stressful and frustrating, and as a result Joseph and I made sure that we were in daily physical contact with our clients. The upside of all this was the face-to-face contact that is essential to the maintenance of client relationships.

  Black Like Me was making money like a Monopoly game, and Johan was our “Get Out of Jail” card. The Ga-Rankuwa industrial area had been established about ten years before, and the Bophuthatswana National Development Corporation had their offices opposite our factory. Johan took on the task of getting telephone lines installed. He went to see officials, wrote letters to the phone company and completed the necessary forms, and within six months our business telephone was installed. It was a step up the ladder of professionalism for the company, and clients could now phone in their orders to Connie. This freed up Joseph and me, and we focused on expanding our client base.

  A state of emergency had been declared in parts of South Africa in 1985, and it was extended throughout the 1980s; these were dangerous and depressing times to be working in the townships. Police and soldiers were seconded to the country’s major townships, where they patrolled the streets; they were a threatening menace in a hostile environment. Funeral vigils were held for people who died during the violence, and the presence of the army and the police force created tensions that time and again flared into yet more violent outbreaks. The killing was a vicious cycle.

  It was in this hostile environment that Joseph and I tried to sell the Black Like Me products. Home became my sanctuary, the place where I could escape the acrid black smoke of burning tyres, barricades and hostility – experiences that I encountered almost daily.

  Joseph and I continued on our daily rounds in that turbu
lent environment, visiting salons to deliver and take orders. At the same time, Johan visited suppliers. His method erred on the side of caution as he didn’t want any of the suppliers to get an idea of what our product formulas were, so he purchased each of the materials from different suppliers, which presented a logistical challenge. We were run off our feet, but youth has energy on its side and we coped with the stress of the new business.

  Once I started to enjoy the benefits of the financial success of the company, I wanted to keep up the momentum. I struck out to improve the marketing, hoping to make Black Like Me a market leader. There were times when my partners shook their heads at some of my unconventional ideas, but I persisted nonetheless, and the company’s visibility grew.

  Black Like Me was in the beauty business, and in 1985 we decided that we wanted our marketing to reflect this. “We need to get Black Like Me on television,” I said to my partners, and we set about making this happen. In 1986 I started negotiating with the SABC about establishing a product that would be mutually beneficial, and that same year Black Like Me made a large investment in its first major TV campaign. We sponsored a 13-part hair and beauty grooming series that educated viewers on all aspects of personal grooming.

  The response from the industry and the public was overwhelming, and the programme was such a success that before the first series had finished airing, the producer called me and said, “Mr Mashaba, the SABC has commissioned an additional 26-part follow-up series.”

  This programme was the foundation of a long and rewarding relationship with the SABC. Ironically, this success came during the time when the national broadcaster was controlled by the old regime. But despite this, the top management of the SABC gave the company an important break, and we developed a working relationship. We were all businessmen, despite the fact of our being cast as black businessmen and white businessmen.

  Bessie Louw, who was the manager of all the SABC TV stations, was an outstanding executive who supported initiatives with business. She made it clear that the collaboration between the SABC and Black Like Me represented a new vision for South Africa. “Black Like Me represents how the future South Africa ought to be,” she said at one of our meetings. I doubt that anyone at that meeting had any idea how happy I was to hear this, because I have always striven for non-racialism.

  The support and understanding we received from the SABC had the effect of opening my eyes to my prejudices. My unyielding opinion that all whites were racists who didn’t consider the welfare of blacks had been challenged by Bessie’s attitude, and I had to acknowledge that maybe it was time for me to get rid of my preconceived ideas.

  When I was still working at SuperKurl, I used to call on the top hair salon in the Carlton Centre, and there I met Anver Saferdien. He was one of the most popular hairstylists in Johannesburg at the time. His passion for his profession and his flamboyant personality endeared him to his clients and associates. I knew that Anver could teach me a lot about the industry, so I made an effort to get to know him. We spent many good times over drinks, chatting and trading stories.

  After a while, I decided to approach Anver about taking up a consultancy position with Black Like Me – I knew he’d add pizazz to the company’s marketing department. Anver accepted the offer, and the first thing he did was insist on a company launch at a well-known club in Johannesburg. He then went about inviting the glitterati to the event. What a spectacular hair show it turned out to be! Anver’s innovative ideas prompted me to offer him a permanent position with the company, and a year later he joined the marketing division. He promoted our product range to hairdressers and did an outstanding job of writing articles that kept Black Like Me in the media spotlight. He marketed our relatively small company in such a way that we came across as being far bigger than we in fact were. But there was a flip side to Anver’s charm – his fiery temperament, which made him one of the more colourful figures in the company. One thing I admired about his personality was the fact that if we disagreed, he didn’t just roll over to make me happy – he always got me to consider an alternative point of view. Anver was a principled man who stood firm. I was prepared to overlook his – and anyone else’s shortcomings – as long as I knew they had the best interests of the business at heart.

  By the early 1990s, Black Like Me had developed an excellent relationship with the SABC – it was so good, in fact, that we were called upon to sponsor many different programmes and events. One of these concerned super middleweight boxer Dingaan Thobela (“The Rose of Soweto”), whose next fight was to be in the US. The SABC had won the coverage rights, and they approached Black Like Me to sponsor the fight – an amount involving R500 000. This was a lot of money, but in return I negotiated R1 million worth of airtime, which they agreed to. Our association with the SABC was cemented after this, and Black Like Me sponsored several other fights, including British heavyweight contender Chris Eubank’s title fight in South Africa. I attended the fights with colleagues and friends, but my only involvement with the sport was as a sponsor and a spectator.

  National television coverage was a huge boost for the company. But we also realised that being visible at a grassroots level was just as important, so we sought out marketing opportunities that would ensure a business profile.

  The Zion Christian Church enjoys massive support among blacks in South Africa, and at Easter time hundreds of thousands of followers make a weekend pilgrimage to Moria, near Polokwane. When the SABC approached us to partner them in providing road safety measures over the weekend, it was obvious that this was an ideal opportunity for Black Like Me. So we hired a helicopter and also sponsored ground support crews. Branded in our black-and-white company logo, both the helicopter and ground support ensured that road safety was at the forefront of motorists’ minds along the route. The Black Like Me brand was spectacularly visible in a very worthwhile cause – but it had also blazed an advertising trail for black-owned companies in South Africa.

  Chapter 12

  Good business practice ensured that Black Like Me prospered, and in 1986 Connie and I were in a position to buy our first home. When we’d first moved to Ga-Rankuwa in January 1985, we rented a neat three-bedroomed house in Zone 1, but a few months later a new housing development in Unit 8 was initiated, so we took the decision to buy our first house. The house cost R30 000, which was expensive at the time; it was in an upmarket part of the township that was close to our factory. It was the usual three-bedroomed starter home with a kitchen, lounge and bathroom. I added a garage, walled the property, and paved the outdoor areas. We lived there until 1988, when I sold it to a neighbour for R82 000 in the booming township housing market.

  Not everyone was as fortunate as Connie and I were, though. My mother was still living in the rented house in Temba; she had never owned a home in her life. This bothered me, and I said to Connie, “I’d like to buy my mother a house. I know it would mean a lot to her.”

  A year after we’d bought our own home, Connie and I were able to buy my mother a house. It was a meaningful gift to my mother – being a homeowner was something that she could never have aspired to on her tiny wage. I had begun to realise that having money is like travelling – you cannot enjoy it on your own. I wanted to share my good fortune; it is in the shared experience that things become special.

  Black Like Me was growing at a rate that not even I, in my wildest fantasies, could have envisaged. After just a year in business, production was so high that we had to consider moving out of the five mini-units we occupied in the Small Business Development Corporation business park. Johan had come to me and said, “Herman, we’ve got a problem. We’re feeling the pinch in these tight premises, and we need to find something bigger.”

  “Can’t we just rent the additional space in one of the neighbouring units?” I asked.

  Johan shook his head. “I’ve tried. We’ve occupied every extra bit of space as it’s become available, but there’s nothing left,” he said.
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  I was aware that staff were getting on each other’s nerves in the cramped space, and fortunately the problem was solved when Johan found a 1 500m2 factory nearby. The move to bigger premises meant that we could purchase the new equipment we needed; we’d also be able to employ the extra workers we required to increase our output and meet the growing demand.

  At about this time, Connie approached the directors about her workload. She had, up to then, taken the full burden of the financial and administrative duties on her shoulders, and she was feeling overwhelmed.

  “We need to beef up our financial control, and I need more administrative support,” she said. We took a decision to recruit an auditor, and soon afterwards we appointed Nisar Dawood. He closed down his auditing company and joined our executive management team as financial director.

  The haircare industry was growing phenomenally in the townships, and no matter how many products we produced, there was always a demand. Once again, production outgrew our factory premises, and we were faced with finding an even larger factory. There was a high rate of unemployment as well as a skills shortage, and school leavers had very limited job opportunities. In this environment, hairdressing was an attractive and easy industry to enter, so hair salons were springing up everywhere.

  After much consideration, I decided that we could not keep moving premises; the logistics were too demanding and it was not a sustainable path. I had a new idea, and after discussing this with the other directors, we decided that we needed to build a factory to our own specifications – one that was large enough to accommodate future growth.

  Black Like Me was phenomenally successful, but still we could not find a bank to finance the building of the factory. Because of the situation, we began negotiating with the Bophuthatswana National Development Corporation (BNDC) for funding to buy the land we needed to build the factory. At the time, the Ga-Rankuwa industrial area was jointly controlled by the Bophuthatswana government and the BNDC.