WITH ITS CALIFORNIA-STYLE freeways, skyscrapers and state-of-the-art shopping malls, Johannesburg carried the intensity of an American city, something Peter Franklin never expected in Africa. The excitement and high spirits of the new democracy were palpable everywhere. All the white businessmen he’d met on behalf of Pellmar accepted the new order. He never found one who claimed to have supported apartheid.
The black government officials he encountered breathed enthusiasm for the ‘miracle of peaceful transition’. They reminded Peter of himself during the eighties, when he believed changing the world was straightforward and inevitable. Then he went to Washington and discovered the futility of shouting at the margins. Whoopi and Stevie had shown him that. To bring about change, a person needed power and resources. A touch of fame didn’t hurt. The Reagan and Bush years ripped away any other illusions. Peter understood the economic realities now as well: competition and individual initiative were the kingmakers of modern societies. The sooner the leaders of South Africa discovered this, the better. The days of those noble anti-apartheid slogans were over.
This time Pellmar was sending Peter to a new destination: the Eastern Cape. He’d read the consultant’s report on the province. It was the poorest region in the country, the greatest challenge possible for Pellmar in terms of greenfield investment and commercial development that would turn a profit. But for Peter this was about more than profit. He and Pellmar would be reversing years of poverty and oppression. Unlike many other corporations, Pellmar was a company with a heart.
The trip to the Eastern Cape would also give him a chance to see Mthetho Jonasi, his old ANC friend from the UN. Mthetho had introduced Peter to Whoopi in 1988. A life-changing event.
The day before the South African trip, Andrew Wesley, Pellmar’s CEO, assigned Peter to attend a presentation by Willard Dubell of Metertronics, Inc. ‘He has a new product that should interest you,’ said Wesley. ‘I want you to be there.’ Peter wasn’t eager to add another meeting to his diary, but he didn’t say no to Wesley. The man had an eye for opportunity and a social conscience. He’d been a draft resister during the Vietnam War days. Peter saw him as a role model.
Dubell brought a PowerPoint presentation and a stack of brochures to the meeting. Peter had little patience for the man’s pixilated photos and inconsistent paragraph indention. In the computer age there was no excuse for sloppiness.
The first slides were landscapes: the Great Lakes, the Mississippi River, a reservoir in Wisconsin.
‘I’m not merely showing you pretty pictures,’ Dubell said. ‘I want you to understand that water is the new oil, the pivot around which countries will rise and fall in the future.’
Peter’s mind started to drift to the report he had to edit before he left. Fifty pages on restructuring the steel industry in Romania. There was big money in Bucharest but the consultant hadn’t done the research properly. Out-of-date statistics, tables that didn’t make sense. Peter would have to correct it all before he got on the plane. It would be a long night.
‘Across the world,’ said Dubell, ‘ageing pipes and infrastructure endanger the continued availability of safe, cheap water. Like the white rhino and the spotted owl, water is under threat.’
When Peter lost interest in what a speaker was saying, he liked to think about repackaging the presenter’s image. Dubell was easy. Start with a decent hairstyle instead of that crude comb-over. Even during his long-hair days Peter kept his hair neatly trimmed. And Joanna used to brush it constantly. She had a wonderful touch.
‘The problem,’ Dubell said, ‘is that providers and consumers have always considered water to be free, like air. And we know what happens when we get something for free. It loses all value.’
Dubell paused for a minute and fumbled around with a ziplock bag in his briefcase.
‘This, ladies and gentlemen, is the device that will transform water into something we value,’ he continued. ‘It will be the Big Mac of the water industry: the prepaid water meter.’
He held up a small grey metal box, then paused as if he was waiting for the jets to fly past.
‘It functions like a vending machine,’ he explained. ‘You insert a plastic card or a key and the water flows. The consumer loads money onto the card before it will work. Water bills are history.’
Dubell predicted that one day water – or rather ‘access to water’ – would be sold everywhere: malls, 7-Elevens, service stations, maybe even at McDonald’s restaurants.
The final slide showed the box connected to a water pipe, like a traditional meter.
‘The prepaid allows the provider to adjust the price instantaneously to ensure cost recovery, like a service station varies the price of gas at the pump,’ Dubell said.
The visual of the water meter brought Peter back from his efforts to project a five-year budget for steel production in Romania. An interesting device, he thought.
‘The prepaid meter will open up water service to private industry,’ Dubell continued. ‘With a guaranteed client base, the capacity to set tariffs in line with profit maximisation, and an assured income stream, another sphere of government domination has been conquered. In the future, provision of water to homes and industry will be driven by entrepreneurs and shareholders, not clock-punching civil servants.’
Jake Moyer, an intern in the front row, asked Dubell why local government would want to entertain such a system.
Dubell smiled. ‘Brilliant question,’ he said, ‘with an easy answer. Local government has many other things to do. Water is not their core business. Plus, they are civil servants. If they can do less work for the same money, they’ll be happy.’
Dubell went on to note that there might be a few ‘dinosaurs’ who want to cling to municipal control over water. ‘But like cassette players and floppy disks, their days are numbered,’ he assured Moyer.
Peter took Dubell’s business card and one of his brochures. He didn’t have time to chat or let the implications of the presentation sink in. Still, despite his preoccupation with the upcoming trip and the tasks he had to complete before his departure, Peter understood why Wesley had sent him to the talk. Apartheid had left millions of South Africans without access to water. Prepaid meters were cutting-edge technology, something that always attracted Pellmar. Peter just had to figure out how these meters would fit into the company’s mission.