Life & Work

I’m no slave to money, but I love fun

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City lawyer Donald Kipkorir. PHOTO | DIANA NGILA

Donald Kipkorir is an oxymoron. On any other day, he’s a famed online braggadocio, the jet-set life, a prodigal and an exhibitionist of all things shiny and dear. Then there is the Donald Kipkorir who I sat before in his office; lithe, subdued, reflective, soft-spoken, disciplined, sharp and with so little eye-contact.

That he is a successful lawyer does not require a jury to decide. His law firm represents close to 16 banks, 20 State corporations among other clients in energy, telecoms, agriculture, education and health sectors.

To illustrate this (and maybe his work ethic) I found him buried, to his nose, in legal files.
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With the possible exception of the President, there isn’t anyone I have chased for an interview for two years like I have you. Why did you finally say yes, and why now?

[Laughs] You know at my age (48 years) I need people to understand my story, but the problem is the media will always give you a life that’s completely different from who you are and what you are. That’s why I’ve been avoiding the media. But then there comes a time maybe when you give a chance to the media to know you. So this is my first and last interview. [Chuckles].

So who are you? Take me to the beginning, before the Range Rovers and chartered planes.

I come from a small village in Marakwet called Cheptongei which has never seen a tarmac road or running water. Our schools were mud-walled and life was basically subsistence. We grew up poor, a family of nine.

But then my mum gave me a chance by moving me from the village school to a better village school. It had better facilities—of course better comparatively by village standards. That changed my life completely.

Are you the first, middle or last child?

I’m the third born in a family of eight, but I have a step brother. All my childhood I lived in a mud-thatched hut until I came to university in Nairobi. In the village, poverty was normal, none of us had shoes. I never wore shoes my entire primary school, but I didn’t feel deprived until I came to Nairobi, then I became aware of our poverty. In my village were only two cars; one for the priest and one for a man who ran what I was told was a bakery, but now I know it was not a bakery, because I think he was baking 10 loaves of bread a week.

So you come to university and you realise you are poor, did that light a fire in you?

It changed my world view. Growing up, I wanted to be a priest, actually I went to a seminary. But when I was admitted to do law, things changed. The realisation of being poor made me want to succeed.

So your motivation to do law was driven more by success rather than justice?

It’s a combination. Growing up in a deprived environment, you basically develop a sense of justice. You want fairness, equality in society and that’s why I wanted to be a priest because that’s basically the priest’s role in society—creating fairness . Law is the same thing; it’s actually a priestly calling, if you’re a true lawyer.

Admittedly, I also wanted financial success, to change the fortune of my family.

When did the tide change for you? Was it a client who walked through the door or did you find yourself in the room with the right person?

I want to credit my success to my first and last employer: Senator Moses Wetang’ula. I met Moses in April 1994 and I told him that I wanted to join his law firm. In the 1990s, he was one of the biggest and most influential lawyers in this country. He was nominated as an MP and had very big clients. He was very close to the system. He hired me.

Why you?

I think Moses has a gift which people don’t know, an intuition. Kenyans are obsessed with interviews, checking papers and all those things. But Moses gave me a lesson which I’ve followed until now, that you act on intuition and on instinct. He gave me a chance and because he was so busy sitting in Parliament, he allowed me to handle some important clients even though I was a rookie.

Is there a particular case that built you while with him?

Actually there is. One day a client walked into the office. Gulamhussein Sheikh wanted to sue Akasha for a debt worth $3 million. Akasha was represented by Satish Gautama, Aurelio Rebelo and OP Nagpal, then Kenya’s biggest lawyers. Mr Wetang’ula asked me to handle the matter, a rookie. In fact, my first day in court I remember Mr Gautama asked me how long I’d practised. I told him about three or four months. He told me, “Young man, I’ve practised today for 53 years, 11 months…’’

You had carried a parrot to a dog fight?

Yeah. I was in my 20s and he really intimidated me. I won that case. From there I built my profile till 1997/1998 when I set up my law firm. I decided I would be doing corporate commercial practice. I don’t encourage walk-in clients. I represent private companies, multinationals and State corporations which of course is the most exciting area in practice.

Also, what people don’t know is that, when Safaricom was listed in 2006, I was the government legal adviser for the IPO [initial public offering]. That also gave me an advantage when it comes to corporate practice.

The grapevine has is that the Deputy President is your Godfather, truth or fiction?

(Laughs) I met the Deputy President in 1992 when many people who are around him right now hadn’t even met him. That time I was in law school and he’d just joined YK in ’92. I got introduced to him by a close friend of his called Vincent Kebenei — since deceased. We’ve been friends since. I consider him one of my mentors and what people don’t know about him is that he’s a very nice man.

What do you think is the biggest misconception people have of you?

(Laughs) People think that I made money because I’m Kalenjin in Moi’s time or that I’ve made money because I’m connected to the system. All these are wrong perceptions because there are many Kalenjin lawyers. There are many people who knew the Moi family, or the Kibaki family or the Kenyatta family, but it doesn’t give you success. Success is individual effort and basically hard work.

When you make a lot of money is there hunger to make more, this beast that wants more? Do you find money to be addictive?

I’m not a slave to money, and I keep telling my friends all the time. I never make money for the sake of making money. Money is a by-product of working hard and I’m not materialistic. If I were to lose money, I wouldn’t lose my soul.

What has money not been able to buy you so far?

[Long pause] Money can’t buy everything. All the vehicles and property are just materials. Those ones, anyone can buy. But money can’t buy a soul and so to be at peace you need to have a relationship with God, which money can’t buy. My peace is my faith in God which is unqualified, which is unshaken.

When you’re at the position that you are right now, do you find that you attract a lot of people who are not genuine; hangers-on, freeloaders, cheerleaders, socialites? And how do you weed those out or you don’t mind them?

I’m not judgmental about my friends. I like making friends and I have so many. But I think I am grateful that I have the gift of intuition—I think I can tell those that are not genuine. But I don’t have to lock them out because everyone has a chance to redeem themselves. Everyone needs to be given a chance to benefit from the gift of redemption.

This elephant in the room, Donald, this loud colourful life that you lead; Donald throwing massive lavish parties, Donald with chartered planes out to celebrate his birthday in London or Dubai...do these things stir you up?

[Laughs] I can’t say I charter planes, but I celebrate my birthday because, as I said of my background, I see my life and the success as a gift to share with my friends and this has given me a chance to visit the world. My birthday is like the highlight of my year.

Actually, I go to two countries every year and it has opened my perception of the world. It has given me more knowledge and insight. I meet new friends and discover new things, new areas, new cultures, food and of course I enjoy wines.

How many people do you go down with on a particular birthday and do you always pick the tab?

It’s anywhere between about 14 and 26 people and normally I co-share the bill. My friends are busy people who run their own companies so I pay part of the bill as gratitude for them taking 10 days off their schedules. It’s a respect thing.

You have pictures of the former President Moi. Is there a link there?

I respect President Daniel arap Moi and his family so much. I did some work for him. Then also, I met Gideon Moi, the Baringo Senator, and we got real close. In the 2002 elections when our current President was running, Gideon was very close to him. My life crossed with President Uhuru Kenyatta at that time when I met him through Gideon.

When you post things on social media, are they deliberate or do you just wake up and say, “let me post this now!”?

What I publish on my social media is what I believe in. I can stand by them.

What’s your biggest extravagance?

I don’t have extravagances. What I do is have fun in life. I mean, that makes me happy. I cannot call it extravagance, I call it celebrating life and success.

What do you celebrate extravagantly then? Shoes? Suits? Cars?

I call it retail therapy. I don’t plan to shop or buy anything. Whether it’s buying watches or buying clothes or buying cars, I don’t plan. So it’s what excites me. I’m not materialistic. I’m not beholden to material things. If someone takes my watch, they can go with it. My friends have actually taken my cars for free and I’m never bothered. I don’t sell cars by the way.

Next time you’re giving out an old Range Rover that you don’t need, why don’t you give me a call?

[Laughs] By the way, I have the current Range Rover, but I also have a new Range Rover that I’ve imported. It’s a Range Rover Sport House 2016 edition, the latest in Kenya. It’ll be on the road next week.

How much was that?

Not much… just about Sh24 million.

Right. What’s the feeling then of driving the first car in Kenya, a car nobody else has?

(Laughs) It is exciting, because as I said there’ll be none of them in Kenya. It’s just a celebration of success.

What do you want to be remembered for if you dropped dead now?

That I changed and touched the lives of so many people. I mean, one of the things Biko is, people know me from what people write about me, but people don’t know my charity work and I want it to remain that way. I do so much and I’ve changed the lives of so many people. I’ve paid medical bills for people both locally and abroad, I pay school fees for children from Turkana to Kwale from primary school to university and I’ve gotten so many people employed. I do charities all the time. But again, in their own time, they’ll give their own testimonies. When I die, I know those are the people who’ll be able to celebrate my life.

Do you feel that you’ve been misrepresented, and if yes, by who or what?

I can’t blame anyone for misrepresenting me, but basically, as I said, people may have the public persona about me, but they don’t know my real life. It’s only my close friends who know about my life. And they’re the ones who’ll give testimonies to what I’ve done to change their lives and to assist them rise up the ladder.

When you post bills you have paid in restaurants, or go for dinner and have a lady take a picture holding a bill of Sh100,000 for everybody online to see, don’t you feel that that’s how people will see you? You feed the media things like that, surely they will build a persona around you?

I’m not a slave to public perceptions. I allow the public to have their own opinion of me. They may think it’s being extravagant, but the friends who are with me in such functions know me. They know my true personality, so it doesn’t really bother me.

Do you sleep well at night, wakili?

(Chuckles) I sleep like a baby. I wake up only when my alarm goes off at 5.50 a.m.

By the way, are you married?

People think I am, but I have never been married.

Are you trying to beat Charles Njonjo’s record?

(Laughs) Marriage is a gift from God. It’s a divine institution. It’s a vocation, a calling. If God wants me to marry, then I will marry at His own time. For now I’m not stressed about it. Of course, my mum asked me to marry. Even Daniel arap Moi when he was the President used to really stress me to marry. But I’m at peace being single.

It must be harder to settle down now, I mean with your wealth and all? I would imagine there are quite a number of all manner of girls in Nairobi who would want to be your wife?

I know. But as I said, with the gift of intuition, you can actually know who is a gold-digger and who is not. The right person will come at the right time.

What are you looking for?

I’m not looking for anything. The general philosophy of my life is to be happy. So I don’t want stress. My mum didn’t have the best of marriages. My dad died about seven years ago, but he wasn’t the best father or husband. My mum wasn’t the happiest woman and I don’t want to have such a relationship. But of course my dad’s soul rests in peace.

Does that affect how you view marriage?

To some extent, I think so. Because I don’t know if there’s a perfect marriage. But I don’t want to have a marriage like my parents’. Maybe that’s one of the issues that’s holding me back.

Do you see a bit of your dad in yourself in some ways? Since, I mean, everybody has a little of their father in them.

I don’t talk about my dad because he moved on. But I try to be who he wasn’t. My mum is my role model. I want to be like her. She’s a humble woman, so rich in spirituality and in sacrifice. She had nothing, but she gave us so much.

Do you have children?

I do, both biological and the ones I’ve adopted.

How many children do you have?

In our culture we don’t count children.

Oh! Okay, like the Maasai don’t count their cows...

Yeah, but they’re content. They’re happy and in good schools.

Are you a good dad?

I try to be to them.

What’s the hardest thing being a father?

Because they live with their mothers, I don’t have the time to grow up with them. That’s the hardest thing. So I may not get to understand them so much, but I try to go on holidays with them, meet them, share their career choices, their schoolwork, advise them. I’m in touch with them and I meet them regularly.

What don’t people know about you?

The kind of work I’ve done as a lawyer. I have trained so many lawyers; all leading corporate lawyers in this country have passed through my hands. The other thing is, I was the lead lawyer of IEBC {Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission}, I drafted our election laws post-August 2010 constitution. Of course, I’ve drafted so many legislations. I’m the one who drafted the Alcoblow law, people don’t know that.

They say a good lawyer knows the law, but a great lawyer knows the judge. Are you a good lawyer or a great lawyer?

(Laughs) A good lawyer needs to know the law and he needs to know people. If you know people and you don’t know the law, you can’t go far. If you know the law only and you don’t know people, you can’t go far. So you have to combine the two.

On a scale of one to 10, what’s your confidence in the Judiciary?

Five. Willy Mutunga did his part, but I have confidence in the next chief justice, that he’ll move forward our Judiciary.

Is money freedom?

Money gives you a choice. Maybe that’s why I speak my mind because I’m not beholden to anyone. The other thing is, I’ve got no loans. I don’t owe anyone any money, so I’m not obligated to anyone. Except, of course, to my friends and my God.

If you were to have a drink with one local politician, just for a laugh and stimulating conversation, who would that be?

All politicians are the same, but I don’t know if Mukhisa Kituyi is a politician but I’d want to hang out with him because he’s very sharp and he can basically discuss all things. From history, to religion, to philosophy. He’s very smart, the kind of person Kenyans are not ready to elect to leadership.