30

It was only fitting that, immediately after the coffee break, Newman Kibwana would have the honour of introducing Geoffrey to the conference.

Newman was at his best on occasions like this.

In the opinion of many of those present, including Western diplomats, he personified the future of Kuwisha. Plucked from the private sector, along with seven more of the country’s brightest and best, he was part of the “dream team” of technocrats appointed by President Nduka to steer the country through the minefield of economic reform urged on Kuwisha by the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

Articulate, well-educated, the 30-something lawyer turned senior civil servant was one of the leading members of the post-independence “born free” generation.

The parents of Kibwana and his contemporaries had first ensured their own material welfare through an economic system that functioned in the interests of the Kibwana family, their sons and daughters, and their peers.

If you failed, or fell out of favour, whether in business or as a top party official or civil servant, there was always a place for you as the chief executive officer of the government steel plant that was fundamental to genuine economic independence, or one of the other state-owned outfits, with company car, and company house, and a non-contributory pension scheme, and medical insurance for you and your family – not to mention unlimited travel to international conferences that discussed the future of whatever it was your company was involved in, with generous per diems.

Forty years after independence, this safety net for the elite of Kuwisha still worked, and when the cabinet was reshuffled, or top military brass were purged, there would be a job or – to be exact – a title to be found that would cushion bruised egos and sustain lifestyles, whether as chairman or board member of a state-owned company.

Those who suggested that Kuwisha did not have the iron ore to sustain a steel plant, or the supply of electrical power needed to run it, were no better than defeatists, who lacked vision and ambition.

Who better to overhaul this system and to bring Kuwisha into the modern age than the iconoclastic figure of Newman Kapwepwe Kibwana?

And none better to set out the details of the debt-for-rhino proposal, whose approval seemed all but certain. All the delegates had received a summary of the plan, initially derided when raised in a World Bank study, but now gaining credibility after a favourable appraisal by Martin Fox, leading columnist in the Financial News.

“Before I introduce our distinguished guest,” said Newman, I want to draw your attention to a document that was distributed earlier. You will see that it is marked Strictly Confidential, Limited Circulation . . .”

He paused, and added with great timing and a straight face, “. . . in the hope that this might encourage the press to take an interest in the subject it covers.”

He winked at Pearson, who had looked up from his notebook.

After the laughter had died down, Kibwana went on to explain how the scheme would work: “The country’s total external debt will be divided by the total number of rhinos still existing in our game reserves – say 100 rhinos. If, as in the case of Kuwisha, the country’s total debt was $6bn, each rhino is worth $60,000,000.

Should the stock of rhinos fall below 100, the government pays what would be called a ‘rhino’ – i.e. $60,000,000 – into an escrow account. But if the stock rises above 100, the donors contribute a ‘rhino’ by reducing the external debt by $120,000,000. Payment by the government would be guaranteed, for it would have to put 10 per cent of tourism earnings into the same escrow account. The government can draw on the money – provided the rhino stock has been maintained at the agreed level, and provided that any money drawn will be spent subject to the donors’ agreement about the specific use to which it will be put, although it would be spent in the interest of conservation.

“In short,” concluded Kibwana, “the more rhinos, the better off is Kuwisha, and of course the more rhinos, the more tourists; and the more tourists, the more foreign exchange is earned.

“And the more forex, the better off Kuwisha’s economy, which in turn would improve the country’s capacity to deal with street children, by providing jobs.”

“Very impressive,” said Noraid. “Very impressive indeed.”

Led by Kibwana, all Japer had to do was to raise his hands aloft, one grasping the document, one grasping Newman’s hand: “Please welcome one of NoseAid’s most passionate international ambassadors, friend of our children, defender of our rhinos . . . the well-known British newsreader, Mr Geoffrey Jaaaaper!”

Newman led the applause that followed.

“Save the fooking rhino,” cried Japer, imitating an Irish accent, “wipe out the fooking debt! Just be sure we get it the right way round!”

“Very impressive,” said Mullivant as he joined fellow delegates in a queue for Japer’s autograph. “Very impressive indeed.”