The things Prof Wyne Mutuma could do with time. He is an arbitrator, an architect, a professor of law, a lawyer and a father. The chairman of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators Kenya hopes, by pursuing professional qualifications, that he is not being elevated by his credentials so much as elevating the credentials themselves. “No one,” he says, “can best you at being you.”
He grew up plaiting hair, spending his youth around heads. Perhaps the irony is not lost on him. While education has been served up as his main course, art is the appetiser, the drink and the dessert. He reckons he could have been a poet. “Maybe for just one moment in time,” he says, Whitney Houston, in her prime, in his ears. He may not yet be the world’s greatest, but he is the greatest in the world at his dreams.
For this moment, he’ll settle for being a learned friend. A present friend, too. And for running his race as a good father, so his children begin a little further ahead than he did.
Prof, your résumé is stacked. Have you ever lacked a job?
No, for two reasons. One, I believe work is not necessarily what you’re paid for. Work is a matter of service, and there’s a lot to do in terms of service. I don’t think anyone anywhere should be saying they lack a good job.
Do you remember your first job?
Yes. We had a family business, a beauty salon. You’d be very surprised at how much knowledge I have of Revlon, perming and curly kits [chuckles]. We also had a kiosk and a matatu.
What was your first salary?
What does your buried life look like?
If I had a second chance, I would probably be in the art sphere. I love poetry and music. Those weren’t an option with our parents growing up, but I might have been a very serious musician.
What’s a song that captures your life?
Whitney Houston’s “One Moment in Time.” It gives you a sense of aspiration. Selah’s “You Lift Me Up on Your Shoulders” is a beautiful song too, because it assures you that you can rely on an inner source of strength to carry you through.
“One Moment in Time” – where does that song take you?
To the world of dreams, moments, possibilities and the future. I have very strong faith. And I believe we are not here by accident. We get to fulfil something, which is no small feat.
Which artiste feels like an old friend to you?
Denzel Washington and [Lionel] Messi, but I can’t help but admire [Cristiano] Ronaldo. Maybe if I use that phrase, I won’t catch too much fire from either side haha! Ronaldo has a great physique and work ethic [chuckles].
Who are you to yourself?
I’m a learner. I’m also my own best company. I enjoy being alone.
What do you do in your me-time?
I hike every weekend, and I swim a lot too. In the morning, if I have a good day, I wake up, hit the treadmill and then swim. I also love playing guitar, but unfortunately, my guitar vanished. My children deny that they took it. I am also into playing golf, but I haven’t been as consistent.
What have you learnt about yourself on the mountains?
Endurance. It’s a battle, but as you hike, you conquer yourself. I’ve learned to be patient with people and give them grace because I want the same for myself. I’ve also learnt to motivate myself and push through any barriers, and to stay disciplined enough to make a mark.
Why is making a mark so important for you?
Because time is running out. We are in a game of 90 minutes, to borrow a football analogy. If you are lucky, you might get extra time. But you have to use those 90 minutes well. Don’t play for a draw.
When you get to where you are going, where will you be?
I think I will be of value to the largest number of people. That would mean first and foremost my family – my wonderful wife and children. I have to make them enjoy the ride with me. Then my professional circles. My faith and community relations. I would love to do something like what Wangari Maathai did – put our flag on the global map.
Which personal mountain are you still climbing?
Let me make you laugh. I have tried reducing my paunch haha! I have tried quitting sugar, but every now and then I slip [chuckles]. The other, of course, is knowing how to balance everything. I’m constantly trying to make sure I don’t spend too much time chasing something at the expense of other, more important things.
What does fatherhood mean to you?
Modelling. Parents. A springboard to the next generation. I think the word is sustainability. Fatherhood means being there when people need you most, and having the mettle to withstand whatever pressure is hitting them.
What has frightened you most about being a parent?
How much control you don’t have, particularly as children grow. You always think there’s a rulebook, but you realise you’re not in control. You can be the best parent, the most responsible, follow all the rules, but your children go off the grid. The opposite is also true, and that frightens me.
Did your children redefine what success meant for you?
Absolutely. It changed everything. And introduced the notion of balance. That all success means nothing if you fail as a parent. It’s a huge realisation.
When your children wear your shoes, what do you hope they understand?
Success is not success without a successor. The idea of success assumes that you’ve passed on the relay baton to someone who can run faster and farther. I hope my children remember that I ran a good race for them and gave them what they needed to maximise their finish.
Not so much in terms of resources, but more in terms of values: faith, hope and love, and how I demonstrated all of those things in everyday living and in my relationship with people. I’ve been very blessed to have very bright children, but I tell them that beyond classroom intelligence, the world operates on different parameters.
How do you ensure that your achievements are not a standard your children must match or exceed?
Well, I tell them that there are different measures of achievement. And they shouldn’t peg their measurements against what I’ve done, but against their own unique personalities. I really discourage them from comparing themselves with others, including myself. We all cannot be president or recording artists, but we all can be our best.
My daughter, Talitha, used to put it very well when she was much younger: ‘No one can best you at being yourself’. And every time you try to copy others, you are essentially undermining the only gift you can win, which is being yourself.
Prof Wyne Mutuma, chairman of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators Kenya.
Photo credit: Pool
Do you remember a lesson that has stuck with you from your own father?
My dad was an absentee. I grew up in a single-parent home. A very strong woman. I have huge respect for her. My dad left when I was young.
Left or died?
He left. I learnt that being brought up by a single parent required grit and determination. I’m not sure what happens to women when they have to play the dual role, but they become very strong and determined, and I picked up a lot of that strength in terms of persistence and staying on course.
You actually stole the thunder of my next question, which is: Have you always been a self-starter?
Interestingly, Eddie, I am more of a finisher, but I am a very lazy starter. I was always unfocused, playful and unserious when I started. In junior school, I was always the second- or third-last in class. I look at the young people now, and I admire them, because at university I was just playing.
I didn’t know this was the real deal, that you were in the real world now [chuckles]. It’s both a good and a bad thing because when you wake up towards the end, you work harder.
With your father having left, how did you model fatherhood and manhood to your children so that you did not replicate him?
I have had other father figures, and very strong faith convictions. They taught me a lot of things. I have a very sincere relationship with my heavenly Father. And a lot of what I do, think and believe I basically received from that model.
That’s not really about going to church, but about being authentic in that relationship – and I have learnt kindness, playfulness and laughter from that primary relationship, and hopefully, I will not repeat the things that my old man did during his time.
Did you reconnect?
We did. He is very successful in his own right. And I wanted just to say hello, and not make him think that, you know, “Now I’m a lawyer, so I’m going to sue you.” Haha! He’s got his family, and I didn’t want to bring tremors and panic by popping up [chuckles].
Is your mum still alive?
She is very alive, very strong, very energetic. Full of spirit. Sometimes she hikes. She is a very important pillar of the family. She is a proper matriarch. She brought up, essentially, her 23 siblings.
What do people often misunderstand about you?
My resolve to get things done, because I tend to be very friendly. I don’t push my way. But they may take that to mean I don’t particularly need to get something done. I don’t necessarily take the front seat. I heard somebody say that I could be very unassuming. But people may not know that you are following the proceedings very well; you are just not speaking.
Prof, what’s your weakness?
Maybe saying yes too quickly. Wanting to help and then finding myself at a point where I have got too much to do [chuckles]. I’m getting to the stage where I have to learn to say no.
Has that burnt you?
It has left me committed to things which are overstretching me. In the worst-case scenario, I can’t deliver and have to backtrack. I have also been the culprit in this virtual world, where I am in two meetings.
What is something you used to believe that, with time, you no longer think is true?
I used to believe that everything arises and falls on some linear thing of what you’ve done. The older I’ve grown, the more I’ve seen serendipity and chance in action, and I’ve realised that the outcomes of life are really about chance. Where you are, who you meet and where you were born. There are just so many things at play that will determine the outcome.
And it’s not always, as people tell us, simply an equation of hard work and results. Because you can find two guys who work equally hard, but the opportunities that have come their way have been very different.
So it has humbled me and made me very compassionate towards others, because where they are is not necessarily a reflection of whether they were hardworking or not.
Do you believe in luck?
I believe in providence. I also believe you’ve got to take your chances and play the cards you are dealt. Don’t complain because the show must go on.
What matters less than you thought it would?
The applause people give you, particularly professional awards. What you want to do is just get on with the job. Of course, I also think success is a double-edged sword. Eddie, from my personal experience, the more successful you are, the more you draw, inadvertently, people who are not as pleased with you; success sets you up as a target.
What does success not fix?
It doesn’t fix contentment. You can be very successful, but contentment is not about how much you get. That’s for you to sort out. Be yourself. Be happy with who you are, whether you have much or little.
What does your perfect weekend look like?
It’s a mix of family, self and faith. If I can drag my family to a hike, even better. At times, we chill and watch a good movie together. If I can do outdoor activities like laser tagging, even better. I hike a lot and go on long swims where I reflect and deal with my issues, and when I come back, I’m very chilled. That’s a good weekend.
What do you wish you’d learned sooner in life?
The power of languages. I wish I could have learned many more languages. And two, the beauty of music. I was one of those children who picked subjects because I didn’t want to fail. I wish I could speak some French and not just the traditional languages in Kenya.
I was playing the trumpet when I was young, but I dropped it. Imagine if I could play it now, my wife would just be wowed [chuckles].
Prof, all I am hearing are excuses.
Haha! Okay, I have heard you. I will get back on the treadmill. I’m encouraged, inspired, actually.
Now, give us some good advice.
Live life based on what you would tell your older self. Live like you’ll be here for a long time, say 150 years. And then put all your resources into ensuring that you can do as much as you can.
It will give you two things: one, a lot of patience. It will tell you that the game is not over. There’s still a lot of playing time left.
And two, shame will lose its power because you can still self-correct. But also, live like today is your last day. Because it will ignite a sense of urgency and wonder. Try to live on both sides.
