During an earlier visit to The Ark, I noticed something. The boys have plenty of ideas — good ideas, too. But between "what if we…" and actually doing it lies a gap, and it turned out to be too wide to cross on their own. An idea doesn't turn itself into a plan. Something more is needed.

So this time we sat in a circle. Twelve boys, one plan: a shop of their own.

There was already a table. What was missing was a sign, so visitors could see what it was for. There were three options: printing it on paper, carving it in wood, or sewing it onto fabric. We went through them one by one. What's the advantage? And what's the downside? Paper is quick, but it tears. Fabric looks nice and you can roll it up — but a white sheet is dirty within a week. Wood is more expensive and you need tools, but it lasts for years. Hands up if you're for printing. Nobody. Who's for wood? Seven hands. Unanimous.

And then I asked the question that was perhaps the most important of all: why will it fail? No objections. Then it's a decision.

Saying no

Next: who will make sure the sign gets made? I looked at Jeff. "No," he said.

I deliberately picked up on that. In Kenya, there isn't really a culture of saying no. People say "yes" — out of politeness, out of respect, so as not to disappoint the other person — even when the real answer is no. In the Netherlands, we simply say no if we think something won't work. I told the boys that Jeff had done exactly the right thing. If you dare to say no, others know they can count on your yes. Especially among friends, and certainly among business partners.

Then I asked Jeff something else: who could help you? He didn't need long to think. With Mitchel, Mutuko and Joël beside him, his no became a yes after all — and now it's a yes he can deliver on. Jeff is in charge of the sign.

Head of Procurement

A shop without stock is just a table. Evans became our Head of Procurement — a title he accepted with visible pleasure. He makes sure there's always something to sell: beaded bracelets, necklaces, hats, drawings and bags with The Ark's logo. For the bags, he can go to Mr Richard, who has already promised to supply the first ones. And yes, negotiating is allowed. "This is for the children's home — could you give us a small discount?" Evans seemed to like the idea.

Someone asked whether labour was needed too. Certainly — "that's all of you," I said. "Not me, I'm going home. I'll pray." After a short silence: "That's work too."

7,500 shillings

To get started, I'm sending 7,500 Kenyan shillings (about €50) to the M-Pesa account of the chairman, whom the whole group considered trustworthy. I set one condition: when I come back, the money and stock together must be worth more than 7,500 shillings. Make it grow. And involve everyone, even the little ones — a drawing by a six-year-old is worth 20, 50 or 100 shillings too.

And then there was Ryan

What stayed with me most from that afternoon wasn't on the agenda. Ryan is autistic and doesn't speak. He came and joined the circle on his own — and stayed for the whole meeting. Without saying a word, he was part of it. And when I asked everyone for their promise at the end, I didn't skip him. He simply belongs.

A deal

At the end, I went around the circle. Vincent, do you promise we'll make this a success? Hussein? Ryan? Evans? Tom? Jeff? Mitchel? Joël? Patrick? Brian? Mutuko? One by one: yes. To be honest, I was mostly just glad I finally knew everyone's name.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began. A few giggles. "Gentlemen. Do you realise that we now have a shop together?"

They did.

What's next

The opening was planned for Saturday 12 September, but we're still waiting for the T-shirts to be delivered. What I mainly hear: they're taking it seriously. The shirts have even been ordered in different sizes — that's thinking about your customer. As soon as the shop opens, you'll read about it here.

Photo caption: In a circle, turning an idea into a plan — and into agreements.