SERIES 2 EPISODE 5

I immediately felt the warm, welcoming spirit for which Malawi is known. Traveling through its mountains, farms, and rural communities, I felt safe and received kindness everywhere we went. The material hardship was visible, and so was a richness of community that prompted me to think more deeply about how we define wealth, success, and well-being.  
 

Still, I was surprised by my conversation with Senior Chief Victoria. “You are welcome here,” she told us, immediately putting us at ease. She was relaxed, wise, and confident—very much what I imagined a chief would be.  
 

I asked what she does to help the village trust her decisions. My question seemed unfamiliar to her. What I understood from our conversation was that her position carried an expectation of respect, along with a responsibility to care for the people she led. Trust and community were woven into that responsibility.  
 

Then we asked how she knew she was meeting her goals. Monthly? Quarterly? Annually? We had brought our business scorecard into the conversation. She explained that she walked among her people, talked with them about their concerns, addressed grievances, and celebrated their successes. Their interactions helped her understand how she was doing. She shared an adage: “A dancer does not know how well they are dancing.” She needed her people to tell her whether she was caring for the village.  
 

Her response stayed with me. Here was a leader describing accountability through presence, conversation, and feedback. The people experiencing her leadership were essential to her understanding of its effectiveness.  
 

Who tells us how well we are dancing?  
What if we became more dependent on the perspectives of the people living with our organizational decisions? Even as I write this, I can hear the familiar objection: We cannot please everyone. The chief acknowledged that, too. People would disagree with some of her decisions, and she wanted them to trust that she held the village’s interests at heart.  
Walking among her people gave her opportunities to understand how they were living with the consequences. Their feedback helped her recognize concerns, learn, and adjust her steps. She understood the connection between her leadership and the conditions in which her people could thrive.  
 

This is what I believe to be true of great organizations. Leaders bear responsibility for how people experience the systems we create and the decisions we make. Our definition of success needs to include what those experiences tell us. Traditional scorecards give us regular updates on productivity, cost, quality, and satisfaction. I began wondering how consistently we examine the relationships that make those results possible. How much influence do the people experiencing our systems have over our definition of success?  
 

Independent businesses, shared responsibility  
I recognized a similar sense of responsibility when we visited women growing coffee. They spoke about their businesses as a means of caring for their families and creating greater independence for their daughters. Their ambitions were practical, personal, and full of hope.  
The women described selling through a distributor before developing a direct relationship with the owner of a nearby lodge. When they explained why they trusted him, one detail stood out: They could discuss and negotiate pricing. Their agreement also included opportunities for bonuses tied to quality and quantity. Having a voice in the relationship mattered. They could participate in decisions affecting the value of their work and what they brought home to their families.  
 

Later, about 25 women joined us at that nearby lodge. One woman began singing, and the others joined her. Some even danced. I felt the welcome in the room before our conversation had even begun. Their farms were independent, and they shared knowledge, resources, and ways of overcoming challenges as if it were their own farm. Water was a concern. Growing their businesses was a priority. They wanted their daughters to believe in their own abilities and have the independence to act on them. All very familiar concerns for women leading in America.  
 

They described themselves as skilled, resourceful, hardworking, confident, giving, visionary, and strong. When we asked what excited them, their answers included hope, profits, and harvest time. I left so encouraged by their work and their confidence in one another.  
I was especially struck by the dignity with which they discussed needing help. Asking appeared to be an ordinary part of participating in the community. Their capability and their reliance on one another existed comfortably together.  
 

I thought about the effort people expend in organizations deciding whether it is safe to ask a question, admit uncertainty, or seek assistance. What becomes possible when that energy can go toward learning, contributing, and solving problems together?  
 

Resources on a scorecard, capability in real life  
Our visit to a local school brought another dimension to these questions. We spent the day with students whose curiosity, intelligence, and ambitions energized me. We also saw conditions that made their daily lives and learning more difficult.  
 

The girls who boarded at the school were living in hostels needing significant repairs. Some beds lacked mattresses, and the bathing and toilet facilities were in poor condition. We learned that a problem with the well meant the girls had to collect water from the village and carry it back for their daily hygiene needs while the school awaited funding to deepen the well.  
 

The school also had computers and needed someone to teach students how to use them. We had initially imagined discussing AI. Once we understood the students’ experience, we adjusted our plans and worked with them on basic Microsoft Word skills. Across three sessions, our group worked with about 90 students. Their eagerness to learn was evident, and I enjoyed watching them explore what they could do. Later, the students performed for us, and we gathered in smaller groups for their questions about America.  
 

I left feeling both energized by their brilliance and concerned about the conditions they were navigating. The experience reminded me how much effort can sit outside the measures used to describe an institution’s resources or activities.  
 

I recognized a familiar pattern from organizations I've been a part of. We count technology deployments, training completions, and available service channels. Understanding whether people can benefit from those investments requires us to look closely at their actual experience. For example, a computer inventory reveals very little about a student’s increased opportunity to learn from this inventory.  
 

What belongs beside our performance measures?  
These encounters brought me back to something fundamental: the condition of the community deserves a place in how we judge organizational performance. People need to be able to ask for help with dignity, contribute to decisions affecting them, and rely on one another in pursuit of a shared purpose.  
 

Dignity, reciprocity, and collective capability give substance to human connection. We can learn about them by listening to how people describe their experiences, observing what happens when they raise concerns, and following through on what they tell us.  
 

For customer experience leaders, this means paying attention to whether customers understand the answer, feel comfortable asking another question, and have confidence in what happens next. It also means understanding whether employees can seek help, share knowledge, and raise concerns while retaining the respect of their colleagues and leaders.  
 

The chief’s practice invited her community into her understanding of success. The coffee growers showed me how mutual support could strengthen independent enterprise. The students reminded me to examine the conditions that allow people to turn available resources into meaningful capability.  
 

I came home grateful for the welcome and thoughtful about my own leadership habits. I want to make more room for what people can teach us about living with the systems we lead. Their experiences hold knowledge we need, and our willingness to respond gives that knowledge a place in our decisions.  
 

The chief’s adage continues to stay with me. Who tells us how well our organization is dancing—and what is possible when we listen?