As we walked into the small school courtyard, a grassy square surrounded by concrete buildings that represented their access to education, the children of this little village slowly withdrew to the opposite side. Like negatively charged particles escaping the space around another negatively charged object, the children withdrew from us, seemingly unsure of what our presence meant. They looked at us with suspicion and avoided us completely. I wanted to break down the walls our appearance had created.
As I looked around, I noticed some children had abandoned a set of blocks as they moved away from us. So, I sat down and began to work. On the edge of the cement, I placed a single block. I then balanced two blocks on top of that one. To keep them from falling, I placed three on top of those two, to stabilize them. In this way, I began the foundation for an upside-down pyramid. As I continued, I realized I had captured the attention of the school yard. The children now noticed what I was doing. As I proceeded, they slowly and hesitatingly came closer to observe my peculiar structure. The walls were coming down, the doors were opening to mutual influence, to leadership. And that is why I was there, to learn about leadership.
I and a couple of colleagues had just arrived in this Andean village, just outside of Cuzco, Peru, to interview their leader. It was a small village with a humble, quiet older gentleman as its elected leader. In his broken Spanish, mixed with indigenous phrases and words to fill in the gaps, he told us how he leads. He described an approach to leadership that did not put him at the center of his realm of influence. Instead, he put the village and its needs at the center. As he described how he brought people together to discuss problems and goals, make plans, and organize people to take action, it became clear he was more a convener of people, a facilitator of processes, and a coordinator of action than the traditional leaders who occupy our minds when we ponder those whose efforts have shaped the world in the roles we most associate with leadership. Indeed, the idea of leadership conjures up images of highly charismatic individuals who publicly inspire others to become part of a movement or effort to change the world or make a lot of money. Nonetheless, most leadership is far more subtle and significant than this often-mythical archetypal image. On that sunny day in the Andes, I learned a lot from this wonderful man about what it means to lead as one who facilitates communal action. However, this was not the only lesson I learned that day, and this man was not my only teacher. What was about to happen was far simpler, yet even more significant and mentally reorienting.
As my colleagues and I stood discussing our experience with the indigenous village head in that courtyard, the children vacated the area and returned to their classrooms. However, two small boys remained. Too young to attend school, they had come down to join the revelry recess provides with one or more of their older siblings. Still reluctant to come too close, they moved across the far end of the grassy space on the edge of the pavement. The older brother, probably no more than 4 years old, led his younger brother by the hand. As they moved out of the grassy area into the paved courtyard, they came to a small crevasse (four to five inches deep and perhaps the same distance across) designed in the Inca tradition as a water channel to manage rainfall. As they reached the small vacant trough, the older brother stretched his legs across the gap and held his brother’s hand to support him as he cautiously stepped over. He then led the younger boy out of the courtyard and up the steep dirt road towards the traditional mud style homes.
This young leader supported and guided his younger brother with a true sense of concern and stewardship for the younger boy’s wellbeing. His genuine care and concern for his younger brother inspired me. Here was leadership in action. A young boy who shared a vision of returning home after recess with his brother, led him along their agreed path while providing the support and encouragement needed to achieve their shared goal. He did all this with such compassion and concern that it moved me deeply.
For me, that moment was the greatest leadership moment of the trip. As I have pondered on it since, it was the supportive serving-nature of such a young child that inspired me most at the time. However, the most significant insight I have gained since then, because of what happened in that moment, was that leadership happens in moments. The moment that boy spent with his brother, the moment I spent building the upside-down pyramid, the moment the village head spent with his people and taught us about his work, the moments you spend collaborating with a colleague at work, assisting your supervisor on a project, or correcting an error in judgment of your own child. These are leadership moments. They are where leadership happens and understanding these moments is the key to understanding and practicing leadership and followership.