From the armpits of society to the luxury of ship world; the McDan story

He was a Labadi boy.

Nothing good was supposed to come out of that society at the time. Even the promising ones who were privileged enough to attended  schools at Burma Camp they were always reminded where they came from-Labadi.

And when the kids from the barracks or any other place in Accra want to escape punishment for doing the wrong thing in school, all they had to do was to tell the teacher they lived in Labadi and they were left scot free. All that the teacher would say in return was “that’s why!”

But he was not even privileged enough to attend the Burma Camp cluster of schools. His place was in the ‘syto’ where barefoot to school was a fashion on its own, a fashion borne out of lack, not the swag  of 'One Love , the Kubolor'.

Born to a carpenter father and a housewife of a mother, with nine other siblings on the sidelines all living in Labadi, poverty was just as good as an inheritance for the Mckorleys.

He inherited his portion. Lived in it, worked in it and like the great story of biblical Mordecai he moved out of the wooden gates of poverty into golden chambers of riches making a million dollars at age 28. The Labadi Boy who was to remain a poor ‘dwarf’ in the wilderness has risen to become a rich giraffe in the city. No wonder the name Labadi is no more. It gave way to La.

The Mcdan story is one of applied humility and persistence. A scene of determination, a comedy of great reward for hard work.

And if he walked into the studios of Joy FM, took his seat in Lexis Bill’s hall of fame with a receding hair on his head in his present day of glory, don’t bother to find out if his father or grandfather was bald; check his story of survival in the armpits of society and you will get all the answers.

The educationist Joseph Quarm who wrote a GES textbook about the uses of the body parts and suggested that the head was only good for carrying may perhaps have been influenced by the Mcdan story.

Young Mckorley was a carrier-in-chief. He carried everything you could imagine- kerosene, bofrot, [doughnuts] name them. He sold them barefooted just to raise a penny or two for soup and for school the next day.

Name any job in the wilderness and young Mcdan will tell you the job specifications. At age 12 he moved from the house to write his own CV in the world of work. He did all the menial jobs only the brave and the determined soul will do.

He was a house boy, hired by a rich Labadi resident. He washed dishes, watered the garden and fed dogs of his master.

He was a driver’s mate, hired to sit in cars he could only wash but not own; hired to shout from Accra to Madina and take monies from passengers which he had to hand over at the end of each day’s work.

He was a messenger hired by a freight forwarder.  He swept offices, cleaned desks of his bosses and run errands for them in ships he could only dream of owning.

He was a labourer, he mixed cement, carried concrete and built houses he could never afford at the time

He was a hustler trying to survive in a society of lack and want. He was a survivor who dared to draw water out of the desert. In all these education was never compromised.

Daniel Mckorley was also a pupil teacher, the only dignifying job he did at least.

Each job he did, was for many, a chore, too low for a handsome guy with a swag. But for McKorley it was a step closer, a rung higher to his God ordained destiny. 

He cleaned the mess in the offices with his eyes set on the prize until he was promoted at his shipping business, from a messenger to a clerk. He still mixed the mortars with grace, shouted Madina! Madina with a rhythmic glow, until his breakthrough came at age 28 only to lose everything again at age 32.

But there is nothing greater than a man whose season is due. No matter the misfortune that strikes, he will still rise out of the ashes and that is what Mckorley did.

A risk taker, an entrepreneur par excellence who earned multiple streams of income, even if it came in drops, Mckorley invested in agriculture. He bought bags of maize, coffee during the harvest season, hoarded them and sold them during the lean season and made lots of cash out of it.

The monies no longer came in drops. They came in bundles, wrapped in sacks, brief cases.

One million dollars and more was his account balance. He was only 28. He no longer enjoyed the Madina ride in shouts and tumults. He flew Accra-US-Accra in grace and grandeur. He was in Pennsylvania US, studying at age 32 when he learned that his sweat, investment stored in a warehouse had been washed away by floods.

His world came crushing. His investment was all but gone. What was left was a mountain of debt and salaries to pay.

Like the call of the Corinthians, Mckorley was afflicted but no crushed, perplexed but not driven to despair, struck down but not destroyed. He sold his car, paid his debts and began all over again until he made 100 times more than what he lost to the floods.

Today, he owns chains of businesses, married to two wives, father to 10 children and still pounding for two more to create a perfect solid football team with one substitute.

Attitude for Mckorley is everything. He would employ the man with the best of attitude even if he had the worst of skill. For skills he could impart, but attitude must come from within.

 

Read Full Story