At first, the idea sounds simply outlandish: manufacture high-fashion urban casual shoes in Africa and export them to the world.
Even at the best of times, many seasoned professionals know, Africa is a difficult place to do business, burdened by an untrained work force, distance from markets and, too often, political corruption.
But that's precisely the challenge Torontonian Tal Dehtiar has decided to set for himself.
Made from Liberian rubber and Ethiopian leather, the first models of Oliberté, his new premium footwear company, will start arriving in stores in the United States next month.
That's only one year after the 29-year-old business school grad decided to take the plunge.
“I'd been working with MBAs Without Borders for several years,” Mr. Dehtiar explained in a recent interview. “And the message I kept on getting was that what Africans need most was decent jobs.”
It is, if you like, a variation on that old proverbial wisdom: Give a man a fish, he eats for a night. Teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime.
“I'd seen what other socially conscious shoe companies were doing – Vega and Toms Shoes,” says Mr. Dehtiar (pronounced Debtier). “But I thought we could do more. It's not really about charity, but creating jobs and building a middle class.”
Before he knew it, Mr. Dehtiar was wandering around the Liberian capital of Monrovia, looking for ways to tap into the continent's most abundant supply of natural rubber. Then it was off to Addis Ababa, to source leather and find factories that could assemble the various elements into finished shoes.
Thirty-seven drafts of his business plan later, Mr. Dehtiar's Oliberté is finally ready to put its crepe-soled rubber to the road.
His original plan was to buy shoe-making equipment in North America and build a factory in Liberia.
“That's still a good idea,” he says, “but it's too capital intensive for the moment.”
Besides, the Ethiopian government, eager to prop up its own once-thriving shoe manufacturing industry – hard hit by a flood of cheap Chinese imports – offered Mr. Dehtiar some major incentives. Then Ethiopian Airways offered to fly his finished goods to North America for $1.50 per kilo – a bargain price that would get the merchandise to Western consumers in four days, much faster and even cheaper than the 45 days needed for conventional shipping.
That said, Mr. Dehtiar concedes that doing business in Africa is “difficult and convoluted. There's a ton of paper work and what should take a week takes four months. There's a lack of skills and equipment.”
So far, Mr. Dehtiar says he's invested about $100,000, using family loans, personal investments and credit cards. Some 30 other potential investors have been approached and at least 29 have said no. The 30th, CBC Television's Dragon's Den , will render its decision later this season. The federal Business Development bank of Canada, which likes to tout its aid to young entrepreneurs, did offer him a loan of $50,000. But it was conditional on Mr. Dehtiar raising another $200,000 in pure investment. Moreover, the BDC money had to be last in and first out.
“That handcuffed me,” Mr. Dehtiar says. “They gave me an option [so they could say they were helping], but it was an option I couldn't take. If I could find $200,000 in investment, do I really need their $50,000?” They also told Mr. Dehtiar they thought Africa was too risky and that his four years running the charitable MBAs Without Borders did not constitute real business experience.
For now, Oliberté is making footwear for the North American markets only. Selling to most African countries, he says, makes little sense, since the shoes will retail here for about $100 a pair, and most Africans are struggling to earn $30 a month.
