The CEO who walks barefoot and owns only two pairs of shoes

Andrew Mwanyota Lewela, the CEO of KeNIC (Kenya Network Information Centre).

Photo credit: Lucy Wanjiru | Nation Media Group

During the interview, Andrew Mwanyota Lewela, the self-styled barefoot CEO of KeNIC (Kenya Network Information Centre), will attempt to persuade me to remove my shoes, but will fail.  It’s not that he’s starting a cult or flirting with some earth-aesthetic religion, though it’s a shame, for he could work a congregation. The man just loves walking barefoot.

He has dabbled with Buddhism, had a pas de deux with Jewish kippahs. How then do you define him? He rejects, in many ways, the very premise of the question. There is, he says, no way to pigeonhole him.

To define is to limit, he says, and when it comes to aphorisms to live by, he understands it’s pretty hard to beat Eliud Kipchoge’s, ‘No human is limited.’

Ever the eccentric, he rocks up in pink socks to match his pink shirt, anchoring a blue suit. He got a job at Safaricom despite, or perhaps because of, his happy socks. During that interview, Bob Collymore, the late CEO, saw them and was like, “You are a crazy guy, Andrew.”

Then, like a showboating evangelist, he peels off his pink socks and leads me outside for a walk.

Is it not unhealthy to walk barefoot everywhere?

I think it's pretty safe and nothing can harm you. Our air is more toxic. The idea is to ground yourself and connect with nature.

Security officers don’t stop you?

No. They are normally so perplexed that they don’t know how to engage me. There's no penal code for not wearing your shoes anywhere. 

How did you get into this?

In my formative years as a child, my parents left me with my grandfather. Let’s say I grew like weeds in the village, on my own, walking barefoot. When I joined Starehe Boys Centre for my secondary school, my dad bought me Bata shoes.

One day, Dr Griffin [founding director, Geoffrey Griffin] caught me wearing flip flops and asked me why I was not in shoes. I lied that my dad never bought them.

My dad was in the military when we called him over the landline, asking for shoes. The following day, he sent a driver with new Bata shoes, which I wore for a day, and went back to my flip flops.

I was a rugged guy who never liked shoes. I'm really easy, just exploring the world on my feet. I walk in Karura Forest without shoes with my children. They find it fascinating, but I enjoy getting in touch with nature and grounding myself. You should try it, Eddie. It's recommended, actually [chuckles].

I'll try it over the weekend. Is there a philosophy behind you not wearing shoes?

The grounding research is there because I read physics, and we are just energy. And the earth is energy, and the way you earth electricity, the earth earths you. So, because we are part of this big universe, why do we remove ourselves from that connection?

I don’t know about philosophy, but the science is there—and it makes you feel alive. And it's very massaging, maybe we should try it after this interview [chuckles].

We’ll see. Where does your footwear budget go?

I have two pairs of shoes. I think my wife has 50 pairs, but I don't feel like I'm missing anything. There are other, more pleasant things to enjoy in life than just buying shoes. Because I'm a very outdoorsy kind of guy, I take long walks visiting other countries and still walk barefoot there. Men's shoes are also quite pricey, and I'd rather donate that money to a charity.

What's the most Kenyan father thing about you?

I still walk ahead of my children, haha! I'm always leading instead of just sort of walking with people. Aside from that, when I walk into my sitting room, I still have my seat. That father’s seat, which nobody touches. But when I enter the house and see my children owning the living room, I wonder whether this is my house or their house [chuckles].

What does that seat look like? Do you buy a new one for every house that you move into, or do you move with it?

We’ve maintained the furniture pretty much the way it is because I'm a bit frugal and very minimalistic. So, the seat is the same, but it's very comfortable.

I see that you read a lot. What is the one book that you keep re-reading?

The Power of Now [by Eckhart Tolle]. It's a mind-bending kind of book, almost like a Bible. When you read a passage and reread it after a while, you see a different dimension to that passage.

Interestingly, I brought my library to the office because I share it with my team as part of coaching.

What do you hope the books you read say about you?

They don't say anything about me. I think they challenge me.  I'm also a contrarian, so it allows me to challenge the authors quietly and also debate with my friends who also like reading.

Which books do you think you've carried with you since childhood?

I picked up reading later in life. I was more inclined toward mathematics and physics. I think where I am now, I call it the second half of my life, in my late forties, I'm still inspired by autobiographies, so Walter Isaacson's perspectives of Steve Jobs and, of course, Elon Musk. Those have worked with me because they are authentic and sort of true-life stories; I'm not a fiction kind of guy.

In a world where many people are now moving into audiobooks, are you still wedded to physical books, or are you shifting into the online Kindle type of books?

I like paperbacks, so I still try to buy two books every month because I like a little bit of old school. When I am on my long walks, I listen to podcasts. I'm not persuaded yet on the Kindle movement because when I'm on my iPad and I start reading, I'm tempted to go into Netflix haha!  With AI, I got an app that converts technical PDFs into audio and podcasts, which I listen to on my walk.

What's a memorable experience about you walking barefoot? The first time I walked with my children. It was long enough for me to actually go barefoot without straining. I don’t play golf, unlike most CEOs [chuckles].

If you were to sell someone on walking barefoot, what would you tell them?

If you haven't tried it, then you're not alive. There's a way it makes you feel alive, and there's something, Eddie, about pain or discomfort or new territory that really awakens your being. Initially, when people remove their shoes, they're like ow ow ow or it's dirty or whatever, but that’s just a barrier in your mind. Why would you live your life on the handbrake?

Andrew Mwanyota Lewela loves walking barefoot.

Photo credit: Lucy Wanjiru | Nation Media Group

What is the best advice anyone has given you?

My dad was a disciplinarian who taught me a sense of duty and responsibility. Whenever I used to go to him with any sort of request, he used to calmly ask, “Is this an emergency?” The point was to evaluate its place in the hierarchy of priorities—it may look like it’s burning, but is it really? Pause for a bit.

What did the 40s look like when you were young, as compared to how it feels now that you are here?

It felt like those old people, my uncles, but now that I am here, I don’t feel as old. Eddie, to be honest, I still feel like I am 18. It sneaks up on you, this thing. There are some pains in places I didn’t know, you start having diets, you take it easy. You just find yourself the elder statesman in society. Pay attention to the now, because sometimes we are just coasting through life. 

What have you progressively cared less about with age? Success, ownership of stuff, and these big tags that we were chasing. I am now about service beyond self. Having fewer years ahead of you than you’ve lived gives you clarity, service to my family and others to the best of my ability, and looking beyond the self. Accumulation of stuff is the kind of thing I abhor.

Speaking of, what is the oldest thing you own, and why do you still have it?

Five months ago, I let go of a classic Range Rover, a two-door which I had bought from my high school teacher and kept for the last 20 years, but I was not driving it.

A friend told me, “Andrew, everything has a price. Sell this junk.” So I sold it. I don’t even know why I was hanging onto it. I am generally a minimalist, and I don’t like hoarding.

What song would you like played at your funeral?

There was a famine in Ethiopia in the late 80s, and some of the most respected artists gathered in America for a benefit concert and sang “We Are the World”. That or one Rhumba song, TP OK Jazz.

What are you looking forward to doing this weekend?

An 8km walk with my children at Uhuru Park from 7 am. I’ll be barefoot, and afterwards we can have a nice Kenchic lunch. They like KFC, but I want to show them how I grew up [chuckles]. Who knows, I might even take them to the oldest ice cream place in Nairobi, SnoCream, where I used to take my wife when I was dating her at university 20 years ago.

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