Review: Mandela My Life, Melbourne Museum.



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What is the role of commemorative exhibitions that focus on the life of a single change agent I asked myself, as I viewed Melbourne Museum’s latest blockbuster, Mandela My Life: The Official Exhibition.



The result of an international collaboration between Museums Victoria, the Nelson Mandela Foundation and IEG exhibitions, the exhibition is billed as a major international event that “will commemorate, illuminate and most importantly share Nelson Mandela’s living legacy with the world” on the centenary of his birth.



At first glance I doubted that these aims could be achieved. The tone of the exhibition could be accused of being hagiographic, given the ostensible reason for the exhibition – to celebrate the centenary of Mandela’s birth – as well as its narrative structures, which blended Mandela’s own words with the editorializing of the Mandela Foundation. This lent support to the claim that this exhibition was the “official” version of how to interpret the meaning of Mandela’s life.



Organised chronologically, the exhibition follows Mandela’s life. It begins with his birth in the Transkei region of South Africa, where he was initiated into his tribe’s traditional cultural practices and knowledge systems and attended a mission school.



The exhibition then follows him as he decides to leave his homeland for Johannesburg, where his experiences under apartheid radicalized him, leading on towards his role as a leader in the African National Congress, and his eventual imprisonment. His resilience while in prison and his leadership of the new post-apartheid South Africa led him to become the revered figure he is today.



This simple chronological narrative is given emotive force by three elements that come into play.



The first of these is the sound of Mandela’s voice at key moments. These include his famous&nbsp;Rivonia Trial&nbsp;speech in which he stated that he was prepared to die for the anti-apartheid movement.



Others are his memories of his childhood in the Transkei, his reflections on his time in prison, and his speech when he was freed, where his conciliatory approach to ending apartheid set the tone for what was to follow. Mandela’s voice guides us through the exhibition, supported by a rich display of personal photographs, letters and personal objects carefully preserved by the Mandela Foundation.



These are then contrasted with the evidence of apartheid from material borrowed or reproduced from other collections and media organisations, which provides the second element. The role of these sources is to lend authority to the human rights claim that apartheid was an unjust system – they are the evidence of what goes wrong when equality between humans is not respected.



The third element is the visitor – a visitor who already knows the end of the story and believes in its righteousness. Mandela was on the right side of history.



None of this is wrong of course. But the desire to eulogize, as often appears to be the case in this exhibition, does not allow space for questions that might allow for a fuller explication of the nature of Mandela’s legacy and its relevance beyond South Africa.



For instance, the final gallery shows a series of 16 paintings by John Myer, retelling Mandela’s life story and giving body to South African’s pride in the achievements of this extraordinary man. This could have been the moment, however, when his legacy could have been broadened out and key themes explored and thus gone beyond the outpouring of grief on his death, captured by the 95 messages of condolence, one for each year of his life – available in the penultimate gallery via a table full of telephone handsets.



Beyond the obvious answer – he was a hero who fought apartheid and won – what is it that those fighting for human rights can learn? What are the difficult questions his activism raises for those fighting on behalf of the oppressed? And, finally, are there other contexts in which his life might have meaning?



In an Australian context, some of the answers were alluded to in the speeches on opening night, which pointed to the relevance of Mandela’s activism for Australians fighting for Indigenous rights. Such speeches go some way towards explaining why the Melbourne Museum, which is aligned with human rights museums and whose First Peoples Gallery is an eloquent articulation of the need for treaty, is host to this exhibition.



But I would also argue that Mandela’s life is relevant to all of us at this particular juncture in time – a time when we need to hang on to the hope that change is both necessary and possible and that the actions of ordinary, everyday people can bring it about. This is as true for situations of unequal power relations as for other complex problems, such as what to do about climate change.



Mandela was an extraordinary man – but he was also supported by many others, both within and outside South Africa, all of whom believed in the necessity of change. Mandela is important because we need to have figures who show us that hope, resilience and leadership is still possible when those values are valued by all of us.



The exhibition does not make these points itself – but perhaps it is enough that such points can be made by those who visit it and reflect upon it. Even so, I wish there was less emphasis on the authorized, official nature of the exhibition, which, for me, closed down the potential for some really interesting discussions on the nature of change and how to achieve it.



<ul class="wp-block-list"><li><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/andrea-witcomb-292784">Andrea Witcomb:</a>&nbsp;Professor, Cultural Heritage and Museum Studies, Deakin University</li></ul>



<ul class="wp-block-list"><li><a href="https://museumsvictoria.com.au/melbournemuseum/whats-on/mandela-my-life-the-exhibition/">Mandela My Life</a>&nbsp;is being exhibited at the Melbourne Museum until March 3 2019.</li></ul>

‘Mandela My Life’ Is A Welcome Tribute To A Hero, But Avoids Difficult Questions

It was a golden childhood for Nonkululeko Gobodo in the natural beauty of South Africa’s Transkei amid the love and encouragement of successful business-owning parents. While her school friends played in the sun, Gobodo spent countless hours poring over the books of the family business. Her father wanted her to be a doctor; her love was numbers and the catalyst was just around the corner.
One clear Transkei morning, a group of black auditors came to look over the books. They were working for Wiseman Nkuhlu, who in 1977, became the first black South African to qualify as a chartered accountant. This was rare in apartheid South Africa, where education and professions were the preserve of whites.
On that day, Gobodo decided that was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life and went to break the news to her father. He asked her what the highest attainable level of education in the field was and said: “That is what you will do.”
“My father always wanted his children to be free-thinkers,” she remembers.
There was no stopping Gobodo after that. She tore through her education and became South Africa’s first black woman chartered accountant in 1987.
Gobodo landed her first job at KPMG fairly easily, but working was far from easy. In those days, the big clients were reserved for her white, male colleagues. It meant she had to persuade her bosses to give her a chance.
More than 20 years later, Gobodo chuckles with embarrassment as she tells of a senior, white, male colleague who had to resign after she had taken every client in his portfolio. It led to the company offering Gobodo a partnership, but she turned it down to start her own practice. It wasn’t easy. One of her first clients, an Afrikaner at the Bank of Transkei, told her to get out because he was not prepared to do business with her. The next day he refused to see her. On the third day, Gobodo walked into the man’s office, closed the door behind her and demanded that he speak with her. He did.
There were many other difficulties. Although her practice grew, black-run businesses were still very much excluded from the lucrative, largely white-run private sector. Most of these fledgling firms leaned heavily on government business.
It didn’t stop Gobodo and she prospered on the way to overseeing a merger to create Sizwe Ntsaluba Gobodo, South Africa’s largest black-owned auditing firm, of which she is the executive chair.
Gobodo sees her employees struggle with the same battles she endured decades ago. Surprisingly, she claims that women are reluctant to step up to the plate. They want flexible hours, in order to be able to make their home and children a priority; they’d rather do consulting, on the side, than pioneer big projects to put themselves in line for a promotion. They don’t seem to be able to make the sacrifices she once made, she says.
Her calm exterior is shaken for a moment. Gobodo pauses, looking pensive as she tells of having to leave her one-month-old child at home in order to prove her mettle at work.
“Humanity needs to go back to the drawing board,” she says.
“Raising future leaders is a responsibility; it is important to add value to the lives of others as we rise.”
Dressed in a sunshine yellow jacket, with a smile that could power a small town, Gobodo doesn’t appear the iron-fisted maiden she clearly must have been to make it in the often treacherous corporate world.
“I’ve had skirmishes where people have tried to undermine my leadership, but I’ve also put them in their place, and they’ll never forget it&#8230; they never forget it,” she emphasizes.
We’ll take her word for it.
<h4>Biography</h4>
Born on October 10, 1960, Gobodo started her career as a junior lecturer at the then University of Transkei, now Walter Sisulu University.
She left to begin her articles with KPMG in the Mthatha office. She joined the Transkei Development Corporation (TDC) as senior manager of finance. She left TDC in 1992 to start an accounting practice. She had a vision to start a medium-sized black accounting firm, as opportunities opened up after the 1994 elections, and founded Gobodo Inc with a group of partners in 1996.
“The accounting profession needs another big player other than the big four (Deloitte, PwC, KPMG and Ernst &amp; Young). We intend multiplying the firm in terms of number of staff and revenue within a short space of time. It will be the new house for black professionals.”
&#8211; Nonkululeko Gobodo, April 14, 2011, announcing the merger to form her present company
<h4>She has won awards too</h4>
Cape Town, 17 May 2012: Two South African women took top honors at the prestigious Oliver Empowerment Awards, as they were named the Top Black Business Leader of the Year and the Top Black Entrepreneur of the Year.
Nonkululeko Gobodo, South Africa’s first black, woman chartered accountant walked off with Top Black Business Leader of the Year and Sibongile Maseko, founder of Bongi-M Construction, received the Top Entrepreneur of the Year accolade.

Tag: Transkei

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‘Mandela My Life’ Is A Welcome Tribute To A Hero, But Avoids Difficult Questions

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