I had been in Johannesburg for two weeks, having joined one of the country’s leading advertising agencies, VZ Advertising. I was still extremely new to the country and its strange ways, especially in the field of politics.

Amongst the  firm’s clients  was  the prestigious South African Breweries. I was working on the accounts for Lion Lager, Lion Ale and Lion Export Ale, a premium beer.

We and SA Breweries’ other advertising agencies had been informed by the then Chairman of SA Breweries, that we were to attend a meeting at their headquarters in Commissioner Street on the Friday to meet a motivational research expert; a modern day Western Witchdoctor of his field.

There, we would have the fortunate experience of having the good Doctor criticise our respective advertising campaigns. At this time, SA Breweries employed three advertising agencies. All their respective senior executives would be attending this same meeting.

My boss, Max Schultze, was fairly critical of the decision to hire the Doctor. After all, he was charging any client, and there were quite a few, $6,000 for an afternoon critiquing other people’s work.

Here was a  transplanted European living in America, coming to Africa to tell the local advertisers how to communicate with the local population. Max summed it up the best he could: “Another $6,000 out of the media schedule.” Please bear in mind, $6,000 was a substantial sum of money in those days.

So, we dutifully went to the meeting, held in the sumptuous boardroom of SA Breweries. Full of a veritable who’s who of South African advertising and marketing.

The Chairmen of Grant Advertising and PN Barrett with their assorted colleagues, together with all the marketing staff at SA Breweries. All in all, a total of around 25 people. And, at the head of the boardroom table, like a veritable God, sat our Guru of motivational research.

And, from two until 4.30 in the Johannesburg afternoon, the honourable Doctor tore our advertising efforts to shreds, especially our campaigns for the African market. All in all, a very profitable and easy way to earn $6,000.

At the end, the Chairman of SA Breweries stood up and said: “I am sure that we would like to thank the Doctor for a most constructive and informative afternoon. We plan to reconvene this meeting a week hence, by which time you will have had time to consider what you have heard and then you can ask the Doctor questions. Additionally, he will tell us what he thinks are the important issues creatively we have to address when we advertise to the African market.”

“Another $6,000 from the media schedule,” muttered Max as we rose to leave.A week later, I entered the offices of VZ at the bottom end of Twist Street at 8.30 in the morning. Max was in his usual position, reading the Rand Daily Mail in the foyer of the agency.

Ashby”, he said.

I went over to him. “Yes, Mr Schultz?”

“I want you to take my car and Edward,” his Zulu chauffeur, “and go into Soweto Townships and get me a witchdoctor, in full regalia. He must have his bones. Have him appear at SA Breweries boardroom at precisely two o’clock this afternoon.”

I guess when reading this today it sounds fairly simple and straightforward. Not so then. Firstly, it was illegal for a white person to enter Soweto without a permit, and they were not easy to obtain.

Secondly, there was a certain amount of danger for an unaccompanied white person in Soweto. Please remember, it was now only my third week in the Republic. However, mine not to reason why, mine but to do or die.

I went downstairs and spoke to Edward, who was a charming young Zulu, who just happened to love the Modern Jazz Quartet, a good starting point for both of us.

We set off for the townships and, along the way, I told Edward my instructions. He was amused and concerned at the same time. Witchdoctors had, and still have, great power within most societies, whatever name they go under.

To cut a long morning short, I had a fascinating time, I visited witchdoctors training schools as well as herbalists, and eventually we discovered a witchdoctor who was prepared to come with us, in full regalia and with the bones, for a relatively small fee.

He entered the Rolls Bentley and off we set. I must admit, as we neared the white business section of Johannesburg, I became more and more mortified. To start with, our guest, in full regalia, was starting to look a little out of place. And then I thought perhaps Max didn’t mean me to be successful in my attempt and had merely engineered this so he might have a good story to tell.

We entered Commissioner Street in downtown Johannesburg, as we approached the imposing entrance of SA Breweries I was feeling distinctly uneasy.

 Upon entering the building, all the African staff immediately disappeared. After all witchdoctors are immensely powerful and nobody wants to get on the wrong side of one.

We entered the elevator and rose to the 20th floor. Upon leaving the elevator, we went to the entrance of the boardroom, by which time I was feeling distinctly queasy. I softly knocked on the door, hoping against hope that nobody would hear me and I could disappear and claim that I tried but couldn’t enter. No such luck. “Come in,” said a voice,

I half entered. Again there was a veritable who’s who of the South African marketing community all looking at me, I caught Max’s eye, “Have you brought him?” he mouthed at me. I nodded, he rose and approached the door. “Come in” he said to my witchdoctor.

To the amazement of the people present, in came our witchdoctor, in full regalia, clutching his bones. Max took him by the arm and led him to the head of the table where the Doctor sat. Then Max introduced the witchdoctor of Madison Avenue to the witchdoctor of Soweto Townships.”

To cut a long story short, the American Dr was never used again by SA Breweries and Max eventually landed the Castle Lager business, the largest billing brand within SA Breweries.

Copies of Mr Ashby’s book Television Killed Advertising can be purchased by clicking here.