Lessons In Leadership Part 3
Some fires warm the room; others burn the house down.
When
I first joined Rea Bana National Institute (Rea Bana), my journey began with uncertainty and hope, traveling through vast landscapes to support scattered, organizations
in the hinterlands. My days involved more than dusty roads and uncertain
accommodations; they tested my resolve, taught me resilience, and sharpened my
understanding of authentic leadership.
...Yet nothing could have prepared me for Amanda.
Amanda wasn't just a member of Rea Bana’s national management board—she was a force of nature. Zealous, outgoing, and unapologetically vocal, Amanda wanted her fingerprints on everything. She didn’t enter rooms—she overwhelmed them.
She embodied impulsivity, the kind of woman who'd tattoo a man’s face on her arm after the first date—not from sentimentality, but to prove a point. Her passion burned brightly but recklessly. Amanda wasn't the kind of fire that clears pathways for renewal; she was the wildfire that reduced fertile grounds to ashes.
Chaos as Her Virtue
Amanda
needed to be heard first, last, and loudest. Meetings weren't opportunities for
dialogue; they became stages for monologues. Her way was absolute; negotiation was weakness. When her voice wasn’t heard, chaos swiftly followed.
I
recall vividly a management board meeting of a small emerging organisation descending
into a physical brawl—a scenario unimaginable in any professional environment—sparked by Amanda’s confrontational approach. Police lights flashing, officers breaking up fights, grown adults forced apart like unruly schoolchildren—it was both shocking and embarrassing for the organisation. Yet, that was not the end of it.
At
another local organisation board, Amanda’s relentless interference became unbearable. Members, exhausted by her continuous disruption and dominance, finally decided enough was enough. Quiet whispers turned into determined discussions, and eventually, a formal process to vote her out was initiated. It
wasn't easy—it required courage, unity, and careful strategy. When the votes
were finally counted and Amanda was officially removed, there was a palpable
relief. For the members, it felt like children finally seeing their wish
granted, a moment of liberation from chaos and tension.
Amanda
didn’t believe in playing fair; she believed in commandeering the entire playground. I watched her rewrite an organization’s founding documents unilaterally, coercing regulatory approval through sheer audacity. It wasn’t leadership—it was dictatorship wrapped in charisma.
She commandeered meetings she didn't chair, rendering conveners invisible. Once, she brazenly declared a local management board dissolved. Her authoritative manner led people to assume she acted with the full backing of the national management. However, no such authority had been granted. There were strict procedures that required clear evidence of gross violations—none of which existed. Amanda cited fabricated breaches and imaginary rules, sowing confusion and anger. The chaos was hers; the cleanup, ours!
The Confidence of Ignorance
Amanda
carried herself with supreme confidence, oblivious to her glaring knowledge
gaps. She held no formal education, but her confidence eclipsed professional
expertise around her. Lawyers, accountants, and seasoned professionals found
their authority openly questioned by a woman armed only with superficial
internet searches and misplaced zeal.
An
online social work course turned her overnight into a "senior professional." She demanded confidential files, challenged experienced staff,
and trivialized their expertise. Amanda couldn’t differentiate between reading
an article and earning a degree, believing passion alone made her superior. She
couldn’t tell that holding an opinion does not make one an expert.
It wasn't just ignorance; it was arrogance. She micromanaged every project, no matter how trivial, demanding exhaustive daily briefings and suffocating the team with unnecessary oversight. Her need for control extended far beyond her assigned duties—assuming authority that was never rightfully hers. She didn't earn respect or authority through competence or collaboration; she seized it forcefully, bulldozing through established hierarchies and processes, convinced that rules applied to others, never to her.
Casualties in Her Wake
Staff meetings transformed into emotional battlefields. Amanda's condescending tone, biting criticism, and relentless negativity broke spirits and bruised hearts. I recall vividly a talented, dedicated employee quietly exiting a meeting, her eyes red and dignity shattered. Soon, complaints and resignations became commonplace in any of the local organisations she got involved with. Amanda’s toxic aura didn’t just darken the atmosphere—it poisoned morale.
Yet darker currents flowed beneath. Whispers surfaced about inappropriate advances toward board members, manipulative uses of power, and uncomfortable dynamics. Her methods were deeply personal, wielding influence as leverage, leaving emotional scars alongside professional damage.
I tried intervention—careful feedback, structured guidance—but how do you explain limits to someone who believes herself limitless?
How do you tell a duck it can’t soar with eagles?
Amanda rejected criticism outright, doubling down on her righteousness. Sanctions from the national board yielded nothing but defiance. Eventually, she declared independence, forming her own sub-group, openly challenging the unity of the national body. She aggressively attempted to splinter the organization by recruiting 15 local group members from the 200 organisations, creating immense confusion and chaos. Members grappled with uncertainty, unsure whether to remain loyal to the original organization, “bend a knee” to Amanda’s dominance, or openly rebel against her divisive tactics. The turmoil became unbearable for some, prompting them to exit the Union altogether rather than navigate the endless confusion.
Leadership’s Uncomfortable Truth
Leadership
isn’t about control—it’s stewardship. Amanda confused volume for influence,
coercion for leadership. Shouting louder doesn't strengthen a voice; it eventually silences it.
As a
leader, I confronted the painful question: how do you manage the unmanageable?
Amanda wasn't just difficult—she was destructive. Her presence didn't merely
complicate processes; it corroded the organization's very foundations. True
leadership required hard decisions, protecting the greater good over appeasing harmful behaviour. It requires strengthening the weak, while fighting opposing forces.
This
wasn't merely about Amanda—it was about ethics. Ethical leadership sometimes
demands more than patience—it requires courage. Courage to protect integrity,
safeguard wellbeing, and maintain trust, and build the confidence of stakeholders.
Beyond Redemption
Some
people grow from guidance; others reject every extended hand. Amanda belonged
among the rare few who perceive every attempt at help as an affront, every boundary as a challenge. Her defiance wasn’t just stubborn—it emerged from a volatile cocktail of insecurity, wounded pride, and deep-seated ignorance.
Amanda's pride blocked her from acknowledging her shortcomings; her ignorance
blinded her from seeing wisdom in others. Rather than humility, she chose
arrogance. Rather than growth, she clung fiercely to her flawed perceptions.
Her resistance became toxic, poisoning every well-intentioned interaction. Her
stubbornness transformed constructive feedback into personal insults, guidance
into battles, and boundaries into declarations of war. It wasn’t just
defiance—it was destructive, leaving lasting scars on the organization and
everyone around her.
Leadership
involves offering second chances, but equally important is recognizing when
someone is simply in the wrong position. Amanda taught me that genuine leadership requires understanding that not every passionate voice belongs at
the helm of reform.
The leader of a revolt is not always the best person to lead a reform.
The skills essential for rallying a crowd in protest—unrelenting passion, fierce determination, and unwavering zeal—can quickly become liabilities in roles demanding humility, collaboration, and servanthood. Amanda’s energy wasn't irredeemable; it was misaligned. Her boldness, determination, and passionate voice could have been powerfully effective in mobilizing a civil protest or leading an activist campaign. Yet, in a leadership role that demanded listening carefully, empathizing genuinely, and building consensus patiently, those same qualities created friction rather than harmony. Her strength became destructive precisely because it was misplaced.
True leadership isn't about nurturing talent—it’s about placing that talent where it can thrive. Recognizing clearly that the best revolutionary might falter when asked to build unity, when peace is crucial. Amanda's story underlines this critical lesson: passion and intensity have their place, but effective leaders must discern the difference between those suited to lead revolts and those capable of guiding meaningful reform.
Containing the Blaze
Amanda
taught me a stark, unforgettable lesson: not every fire can or should be nurtured—some must be contained. Leadership means understanding this painful truth.
Not
every broken thing can be mended. Leadership, conflict management, and ethical
conduct aren’t just abstract principles—they are decisive, sometimes uncomfortable choices. Amanda was my harshest lesson yet—that sometimes, the bravest act in leadership is deciding who must leave the room to save the
mission.
Leadership isn’t about who you invite to the table, but who you have the courage to send away.
Amanda was a fire that couldn’t warm, only scorch. Recognizing that was my hardest, yet most essential lesson in leadership.