CONFESSIONS OF AN ADVERTISING MAN: KENYA EDITION
Eight years ago, I had a moment of introspection and reflected on the journey of my career at that point in time:
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So it’s been 20 years and and a month in the advertising business.
I’ve faced danger, working for, and with, some really stupid people. And some joy. Working for, and with some very talented people. I’ve hit the high notes, and many, many low ones. I’ve been young, and now I’m old. Relatively.
I cursed tomorrow. And now its standing right in front of me. Staring back with an overgrown beard and uncombed hair skirting a balding pate, cheeks puffing out as if to say “Here we are, then.”
I’ve laughed more than I will ever remember. Like the night that Trevor Beattie awarded me the APA Craft Award for copywriting, making me the best advertising writer in the republic. And a little beyond it.
I’ve been angry. Very angry. Like the time my bogan Australian boss threatened to sack me for winning very many creative awards on that magical night fueled by Trevor Beattie. Tim Pearson scarred me for life. Or the night I got very, very upset with my inane, bad-English-speaking-Spanish-Brazilian Creative Director and yelled my lungs out at him. In Received Pronunciation English, recently acquired via a university degree in that language. With my Art Director, Timmy Ondeng, frozen in disbelief as I took my things home in a carton, singing the English football hooligans’ chant: “You’re getting sacked in the morning…sacked in the mooooorning, you’re getting sacked in the mooooorning…”
I learnt how to be a good Creative Director from Judy Kibinge. I learnt about good art direction from Maggie Owino. I learnt about leadership and managing clients from Ndirangu wa Maina. I travelled the world with Thierry Dubus, and picked up valuable lessons on Media Planning from Lenny Ng’ang’a. From Bipin Soni I learnt about the courage it took to hire a black, 29-year-old kid as Creative Director at a time when Creative Directors in Nairobi were invariably white and old. And mostly clueless. And from Zadock Koola, I learnt exactly how to crash-land your own agency and blow up the tiny fragments into oblivion. In dramatic slow motion.
And so I will scratch balding pate and try to figure out where these 20 years have gone. An eventful journey in its own right. I hope you will enjoy the recollections.