Sometimes not making a decision, is a decision in and of itself.
Last Friday, with three other friends, we set off on a drive through the Aberdare National Park, entering its south-western Mutubio gate off the Njabini-Ol Kalou road. The objective was to have a leisurely game drive and come out on the northeastern side of the stunning park in Nyeri en route to Nanyuki.
At about 5pm we concluded our tour, breathless with awe at the stupendous views that the mountain range offered on that rare, sunny day. Google maps estimated that it would take about an hour and a half to drive the 60 kilometres to Nyeri on the extremely narrow Murram road peppered with tight hairpin turns throughout. Coming round one bend, we found a bull elephant. All six tonnes of him, in no hurry.
On the left side of the road was a steep embankment leading down the mountain range we were on. On the right hand side was a steep embankment leading up the mountain range we were on. The murram route was carved out of the mountain and there was only one path for enormous pachyderms and smaller human mammals to travel. On the road less travelled.
In mid-December 2007, I had sat among other bank executives in a boardroom facing the biggest human resource crisis we had ever had. Staff were marooned in Eldoret town as machete-wielding gangs went from pre-marked house to house in some estates looking for specific victims.
Other staff were also hiding at a Kericho hotel as a similar issue engulfed the town. If ever there was a time for making decisions on the fly, it was those painful days in December 2007 at the height of the post-election violence. We were damned if we made the dangerous decision to extract the staff. We were damned if we didn’t.
Similarly, a decision had to be made about whether to pass the elephant or not. It was rapidly growing dark and he kept turning back as if to let us know that he knew we were there.
Often, he would stop and pull bamboo shoots to eat, mocking our growing anxiety as we worried what would happen if he chose to go back where he had come from, with only our tin can on wheels covering us and nowhere to manoeuvre. It had started drizzling by now and all phone signals had disappeared.
Four individuals in a car in various stages of grief. Denial. Anxiety. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. One individual at the front was the brave one. In denial. “This car is turbo-charged. We can zoom past the elephant and make it.”
This insanely bold view was completely countered by one individual seated at the back. “We cannot go near that elephant, it will kill us. Let’s drive back to Naivasha.” However, the round trip back to Naivasha, Gilgil, Nyahururu, Mweiga to Nanyuki would be a good three hours in total darkness. The third individual, also seated in the front, was the moderate one. In full acceptance mode. This individual played the role of spotter, looking out for other elephants in case they were a herd and taking videos of the scene in case our trampled bodies were found later and our worthless story needed to be told. “The elephant has to get off the road at some point, just chill, you guys,” they chided.
The fourth individual sat at the back quite likely in catatonic shock. Bargaining perhaps with God on how to gain entry past the pearly gates in repentance for their past sins. There was no specific leader in this situational leadership scenario but a decision needed to be made.
Night was fast drawing in and the park gates had long closed by this time. Fly past the elephant and hope that it wouldn’t perceive a motor vehicle approaching it at top speed as a threat, or turn back and take the long route, with all its attendant dangers of night driving particularly through the park?
Like in many crises, sometimes a decision just makes itself. After 90 heart-rending minutes of walking ahead of us, the elephant turned back and stared straight at us. Then it started to walk towards us. We hit reverse gear and got stuck in some mud trying to do a three-point turn.
Then the bull ambled up a steep embankment it had unsuccessfully tried climbing and disappeared silently into the thicket. Which of these four individuals would you have been in that scenario? The leadership lesson here for us was this: Sometimes not making a decision, is a decision in and of itself.
