Like the proverbial cat with nine lives, South Africa’s scandal-ridden president, <a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/people/jacob-gedleyihlekisa-zuma" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jacob Zuma</a>, may well have escaped yet again with his political life. This despite another resounding loss in the country’s highest court.
The Constitutional Court <a href="https://www.timeslive.co.za/politics/2017-06-22-read-in-full-concourt-ruling-on-secret-ballot/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ruled</a> that there was no constitutional bar to the Speaker of the National Assembly, <a href="http://www.news24.com/Tags/People/baleka_mbete" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Baleka Mbete</a>, opting to employ a secret ballot in a no confidence vote in parliament. She’d originally asserted that she didn’t have the authority to make this decision, prompting several opposition parties – furious at Zuma’s increasingly dictatorial project of <a href="http://ewn.co.za/Topic/State-Capture" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">“state capture”</a> – to take the matter to court.
South Africa’s judicial system continues to hold firm. This is despite the fact that there appears to be a concerted and well coordinated campaign by a group of politicians and businessmen to undermine the integrity of state institutions as well as to exploit their weaknesses to prosecute a project of self-enrichment and rent-seeking. The campaign is pivoted around the now notorious <a href="https://mg.co.za/tag/gupta-family" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Gupta family</a>.
Zuma has been brought to book repeatedly by the courts. In March last year, the Constitutional Court <a href="http://city-press.news24.com/News/constitutional-courts-damning-judgment-zuma-violated-his-oath-of-office-20160331" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">found</a> that Zuma, as well as parliament, had violated the Constitution. It did so by failing to defend and uphold the constitutional authority of South Africa’s ombud – it’s Public Protector – who had conducted an investigation into the president’s private homestead, <a href="https://mg.co.za/report/zumaville-a-special-report" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Nkandla</a>. She found that Zuma and his family had unlawfully benefited. He was required to pay back nearly R8 million (around $620,000) to the state. Yet, following a <a href="http://ewn.co.za/2016/04/01/Full-text-of-President-Zumas-speech-on-Concourt-Nkandla-judgment" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">half-baked apology</a>, Zuma held onto power.
In parliament he’s survived a number of no-confidence votes <a href="http://www.sanews.gov.za/south-africa/mps-reject-motion-no-confidence-against-president" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">mounted</a> by the opposition. He also dodged two such attempts in the national executive committee of his own party, the ruling African National Congress (ANC) – <a href="http://ewn.co.za/2016/11/27/anxious-wait-for-outcomes-of-hanekom-s-motion-against-zuma" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">one</a> in November last year and most recently <a href="http://citizen.co.za/news/news-national/1526627/netshitenzhe-tables-motion-of-no-confidence-in-zuma-at-nec-meeting/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">in late May</a>. He’s been backed by an increasingly slender yet sufficient number of loyalists and nationalists for whom Zuma provides political cover for their populist and self-serving call for “radical economic transformation”.
<h2>Tipping point</h2>
The tipping point for the latest legal skirmish was Zuma’s reckless and apparently self-interested decision to <a href="https://theconversation.com/firing-of-south-africas-finance-minister-puts-the-public-purse-in-zumas-hands-75525?sr=16" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">fire</a> South Africa’s widely respected minister of finance, Pravin Gordhan, on 30 March this year.
<a href="http://www.forbesafrica.com/current-affairs/2017/06/01/tale-two-ministers/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">A Tale Of Two Ministers</a>
Despite a cold war with Zuma, Gordhan had <a href="https://theconversation.com/south-africa-cant-save-itself-just-by-talking-the-talk-it-must-walk-the-walk-73863?sr=7" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">held the line</a> against “state capture” for 15 months after his reappointment in December 2015. And so as night follows day, Gordhan’s removal precipitated an immediate ratings’ agency downgrade. The downgrade added further pressure to an already weak economy, undermining any prospects of economic growth to address the high levels of unemployment and inequality that threaten its precarious social stability.
Once again, in response to Zuma’s <a href="https://theconversation.com/stakes-for-south-africas-democracy-are-high-as-zuma-plunges-the-knife-75550?sr=21" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">ill-considered cabinet reshuffle</a>, the largest opposition party, the Democratic Alliance, tabled a motion of no confidence in the national assembly. There has been an apparent shift in attitude in the ANC’s parliamentary caucus suggesting that the no-confidence vote might have a chance of succeeding. Many ANC MPs are now anxious about the party’s prospects at the 2019 national election and their own political future.
But there’s also concern over Zuma’s apparent hold over many backbench MPs. Many of them fear retribution and expulsion should they vote against the president. If an MP ceases to be a member of the party on whose list they stood at election time, they automatically lose their seat in parliament.
Because of this one of the smaller opposition parties, the United Democratic Movement, requested the speaker to use a secret ballot to enable MPs to vote with their conscience. Mbete, who is also the national chairperson of the ANC, refused. She claimed that she did not have the power to make the decision.
The Constitution is unclear. It provides for the president and the cabinet to be removed by the national assembly by a bare majority following “a vote”. In the secret ballot case, the court could have interpreted “a vote” to mean “a secret vote”. Equally, however, the failure of the Constitution to specify a secret ballot in the case of a no confidence vote could mean an open ballot was intended.
So on June 22, the Constitutional Court took neither route. It held that the Constitution could have provided for a vote by secret ballot or open ballot. It did neither. Rather it held that, the national assembly has… in effect empowered the Speaker to decide how a particular motion of no confidence in the President is to be conducted.
Accordingly, the Court set aside the Speaker’s decision that she lacked constitutional power to order a secret ballot. Notably, Zuma had entered the proceedings to argue, like the Speaker, that there was no power to order a secret ballot and no need to do so.
The court pointedly observed that Mbete has “an enormous responsibility” to ensure that when she decides whether on a “situation specific” case-by-case basis a secret ballot should be employed. She should do so on a “rational and proper basis”, with due and careful regard to a purpose of the no confidence vote. Importantly, the court noted that the primary duty of MPs is to the Constitution and not to their parties.
The implication is that the ability of MPs to vote with their conscience in such a situation is clearly a factor that the speaker should take into account when making her decision. Some critics will regard the court’s “guidance” as insufficiently precise. But the court was clearly anxious not to encroach on separation of powers – perhaps mindful of the virulent claims from some quarters of “judicial over-reach”.
Mbete will have to choose between her loyalty to her president as one of the ANC’s <a href="https://mg.co.za/tag/anc-top-six" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">“top six”</a> leadership and her duty to the Constitution as speaker.
<h2>Zuma unperturbed</h2>
Later on the same day of the judgment Zuma was <a href="http://ewn.co.za/2017/06/22/watch-zuma-answers-questions-on-state-capture" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">answering questions</a> in parliament. Judging by his typically thick-skinned signs of confidence, the president is not unduly perturbed by the court’s ruling.
While the court stated the power to decide on whether to hold a secret ballot or not should “not be exercised arbitrarily or whimsically”, Zuma has already made it clear that he expects Mbete to decide that a secret ballot is inappropriate or unnecessary.
Parliament returns after its current mid-year winter recess in August. If Mbete once again declines to hold a secret ballot, her decision will, in turn, then be subject to judicial review application. In due course the court could be forced to order her to hold a secret ballot.
So despite the Constitutional Court judgment, and the lucidity of it’s reasoning, a no-confidence vote held with a secret ballot is still some way off. Until then, Zuma lives to fight another day.
But with every day passing, December’s ANC national elective conference gets closer. Then Zuma’s term as president of the ANC expires. Then his power will decline potentially decisively.
One way or another, Zuma is running out of political lives.
&#8211; Written by <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/richard-calland-182127" target="_blank" rel="author noopener noreferrer">Richard Calland</a>, Associate Professor in Public Law, University of Cape Town
&#8211; Photo by <a href="https://www.forbesafrica.com/author/jay-caboz/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Jay Caboz</a>
This article was originally published on <a href="https://theconversation.com/africa" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Conversation</a>
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AnitZumaMarch_JC-4

South Africa’s Jacob Zuma running out of political lives

Sabalele village, in Cofimvaba, a town in South Africa’s Eastern Cape, boasts a brand new tar road off the N6 between Queenstown and East London. On the side lies an unoccupied house on a hill with peeling cream paint. The small brick house has a yard half the size of a football field; a huge family gravestone stands next to the wire fence. A pita toilet is on the one side and a disused kraal on the other; the sun-dried grass reaches your knees.
<div id="attachment_31412" style="width: 695px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-31412" class="wp-image-31412 size-large" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/06/Chris-Hani-008-685x1024.jpg" alt="" width="685" height="1024" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Chris-Hani-008.jpg 685w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Chris-Hani-008-300x448.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Chris-Hani-008-600x897.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Chris-Hani-008-201x300.jpg 201w" sizes="(max-width: 685px) 100vw, 685px" />Statue of Chris Hani outside the community centre</div>
Inside, the only remnants that show people once lived here are a coffee table draped in white cloth, old broken red sofas, and two photographs hanging on opposite walls of the dining room. One is of martyr Chris Hani and the other of his parents Gilbert and Nomayise. It’s an understated memorial for one of the best known names in African politics. Often, it doesn’t see a soul for six months at a time.
<div id="attachment_31363" style="width: 695px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-31363" class="wp-image-31363 size-large" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003-685x1024.jpg" alt="" width="685" height="1024" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003.jpg 685w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003-300x448.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003-600x897.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003-201x300.jpg 201w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-003-768x1148.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 685px) 100vw, 685px" />Lungile Gongqa</div>
This was the home Hani and his five siblings grew up in. His father died in 1994 and mother in 2000; both were buried by the wire fence and eventually the entire family moved out.
On this cold Saturday morning in April, the month Hani was gunned down 24 years ago on the driveway of his house in Boksburg, Johannesburg, hundreds of people gathered in Sabalele village to commemorate him; not with a rally or church service but with sweat and striving in the annual Chris Hani Freedom Marathon.
This five-year-old race, a community hall with a bronze statue, and a district municipality named after him are a few things the municipality has to keep Hani’s name from oblivion. The old and young, who never got a chance to know Hani, came to walk and run the path to his Catholic school.
“You must be very strong to run this one, this is a tough course, it’s gravel. Can you imagine a young Chris Hani walking here every day of his schooling,” says Enoch Skosana, the race official and marathon winner.
Skosana says the run is symbolic of how Hani carried his country on his shoulders in later life. With the African National Congress’ (ANC) armed wing, uMkhonto we Sizwe, Hani commanded thousands of soldiers with the same zest, he says. The retired Skosana won several half marathons before forming a development club supported by his former team, Nedbank Running Club, in Gauteng.
“To me, as a councillor and politician, this event is a milestone. Chris Hani himself never entered the Canaan he fought before he died in the hands of apartheid defenders. Chris Hani District Municipality is proud of the whole commemoration of its son. In my view I would like to have a running club established here, so that we can have more long distance runners who are putting this district on the map,” says Wanda Vani, a ward councillor for 23 villages around Sabalele.
Vani says despite a small development in the Sabalele, many villages do not have tar, nor running water. He also laments high unemployment of youth – the race only provides jobs for a few.
The 25-kilometer marathon honoring Hani may be among the smallest on the calendar of Athletics South Africa (ASA) but it has been growing in stature and created at least one Olympic athlete. Lungile Gongqa was the 2017 Two Oceans Marathon winner in Cape Town. He came through the ranks of this dusty village, near where he grew up in Ngcobo. When it started in 2012, Gongqa was the first winner. He went on to represent his country at the 2016 Rio Olympics but didn’t finish because of a hamstring injury.
<div id="attachment_31364" style="width: 778px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-31364" class="wp-image-31364 size-full" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-010.jpg" alt="" width="768" height="514" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-010.jpg 768w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-010-300x201.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-010-600x402.jpg 600w" sizes="(max-width: 768px) 100vw, 768px" />Athletes before the 25 kilometer race</div>
“In my first running competition I was excited to take home a t-shirt and a roll-on as my prize. I was only 18 years old at the time. I knew my parents would be grateful for that. But things got better when I won this Chris Hani race in 2012, the prize was R7,500 (around $550). I was not a member of any club, so that meant I had to train by myself and pay my own transport. This is one of the reasons I have approached the municipality with the idea to coach the up-and-coming runners in the district. I didn’t finish school but I can make a living from the sport,” says Gongqa.
Gongqa, who runs for Nedbank Running Club in Cape Town and travels between there and the Eastern Cape, won R250,000 ($18,500) at the Two Oceans Marathon.  Gongqa, who flew from Cape Town to support the race in Sabalele village, believes there are many more Olympians to unearth here.
Inspiration could be taken from Lusapho April, a long distance runner from Uitenhage, Eastern Cape, who was a new entrant in the Hani race. He represented his country at the 2012 London Olympics and 2016 Rio Olympics, and finished third in the New York City Marathon in 2013. April holds the record of winning the Hannover Marathon, in Germany, for three consecutive years between 2011 and 2013.
<div id="attachment_31367" style="width: 860px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-31367" class="wp-image-31367 size-full" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-111.jpg" alt="" width="850" height="569" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-111.jpg 850w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-111-300x201.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-111-600x402.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Chris-Hani-111-768x514.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 850px) 100vw, 850px" />Small brick house,Sabalele village, in Cofimvaba</div>
“Being here is just to honor the man for what he did for the country. And also I never run in these conditions in the village, I just wanted to partake to encourage the future athletes from around here. It’s not every day you see someone who has been to the Olympic Games coming back to run here. I was humbled to see some local boys running with torn shoes and soccer boots, they showed me that there’s so much hunger to achieve their dreams,” he says after finishing the race in second spot and with a limp.
Both April and Gongqa were chuffed to see hundreds of school children running alongside their parents. Just like young Gongqa, the unlikely young competitors were ecstatic to walk home with their new oversized white-shirts and medals, even if there was no roll-on.
Hani would have been proud.

SACP-CHRIS HANI

Running For A Hero

Every morning, as the sun rises over the deep blue of Hout Bay near Cape Town, you can catch a glimpse of one of the last survivors of the men who faced death with Nelson Mandela at the Rivonia Trial in 1964.
Denis Goldberg retired to the light and air of Hout Bay, maybe to banish the dark of his stinking Pretoria prison cell where he was incarcerated for 22 years. Here he learned a few sad notes to feed sad souls. As condemned men waited to hang, they would sing their last song. Goldberg taught himself to play along on guitar and recorder.
“I was never good enough to play by ear, but somehow when those men sang, the chords just came to me. When I left, I felt sad that no one was going to hear those notes from my recorder again,” he says.
Fast forward 50 years to a lighter world above the crashing surf of Hout Bay and yet there is no escape from the ills of South Africa.
“I read the negativity, day after day, because scandals sell newspapers; the newspapers which used to be a place of solid analysis for developing ideas and finding solutions to problems. What you read is the absurdity that South Africa is worse today, than what it was under apartheid. How can that be?”
On the walls around him is African art; an unspoken statement against the bleak walls of prison. Goldberg points to a portrait of an elegant black man writing in a book.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-4997" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/SONA2016_Jay-Caboz-3-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
“He’s not protesting; he’s not toyi-toying; he’s not at a political rally. It turns out that the artist is an anaesthetist and has presumably done a portrait of a colleague in a hospital, writing his diary at the end of the day. A white artist is painting an intellectual activity of a black South African. That for me reflects everything we fought for,” says Goldberg.
These pictures of hope contrast with the less hopeful picture of leadership in Africa.
“Perceptions are important in politics. I have to say President (Jacob) Zuma has played a heroic role in developing the country. He was a herd boy, who gained an education, one way or another, school education, by reading and reading. If you talk to him and speak to him off the cuff, he really is an extremely well-read person in politics. In a discussion, he is fluent and his ideas are fluent. His role in the ANC intelligence apparatus, it was enormous. Creating peace in KwaZulu-Natal, negotiating with leaders brought peace. Mandela started negotiations in Rwanda, Zuma brought them to a climax. That’s his ability. Now, I believe sadly, this circle around him is stealing the democracy of our people.”
Despite misgivings, Goldberg believes that the ANC is the only hope of closing the gap between the rich and poor.
“To oppose the crony economy we have allowed to develop; it’s not going to happen overnight, but we have to start.”
Goldberg says it’s high time to root out corruption.
“[In 1994], one of the first things that happened was new ANC members of Parliament demanded of Nelson Mandela a salary increase&#8230;When I said to leading members, ‘why are you looking for this huge increase in salaries, which puts you at the level of white management?’ Their answer was ‘do you think we are not worthy of it because we are black?’”
In the days when Goldberg fought for education, he never dreamed he would see students wreck universities.
“It angers me that students, who are supposed to be the intellectual leaders of the future, don’t think and don’t know our history. Don’t they understand the history of South Africa, don’t they understand how far we’ve come in only 20 years?&#8230; Students who throw excrement over a statue think they have solved a problem. Does that solve the problem of accommodation or worker’s wages? What does it create&#8230; disgust, and I hope they get charged.”
The protests at Parliament?
“We have serious problems and we reduce them to petty insults, its outrageous behavior. The politics in the media and in Parliament has become politics of personality and not issues.”
Amid the turmoil of politics, Goldberg has a silver lining of his own. He wants to build a center where children can dance, play music and paint in the sea breezes of Hout Bay
“When I watch kids out of the townships, with their patched best clothes, walking up and down with their violins, it’s a joy. Even if they don’t play the damned instrument properly, they had the opportunity to find themselves.”
A search he knew all too well, 50 years ago, when he played along to sad, condemned, voices.

Lament For A Stolen Dream

<h1>From Schoolboy To Rebel In A Month</h1>
<h6>Oupa Moloto is a little heavier and a lot wiser than 40 years ago when he ran riot in the streets of Soweto as a slender 19-year-old.</h6>
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-4918" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Oupa-Moloto-027-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" />
It was a day Oupa Moloto never thought would end in fire and tears. The children had prepared a peaceful protest; they were excited, as well as angry. Moloto was one of the thousands of unhappy students who didn’t want to be taught in Afrikaans, a language they felt was oppressive and merely the gateway to menial jobs.
Moloto was at Morris Isaacson High School, in Jabavu, Soweto. He was part of the South African Students’ Movement (SASM), which followed black consciousness – the philosophy that inspired young people to take pride in their race.
Through it, Moloto took the first step on a path that would see him locked up in 16 prisons and end up as a guerrilla fighter in Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK), the military wing of the African National Congress (ANC).
On a winter morning, he met up with his schoolmates to plan the march. Members of SASM were pushing for tougher forms of protest, but the masses held sway. A peaceful march it was; they had never marched in their lives.
“It was going to be exciting,” laughs Moloto.
On Tuesday, June 15, 1976, SASM members spread the word around schools. That night they painted placards against the system and Afrikaans.
“On the day of the event, June 16, school started a little earlier, the mood was different, the students were excited but the teachers couldn’t pick it up,” he recalls.
Few teachers knew of the march. At Morris Isaacson, slim, light-skinned and bearded Tsietsi Mashinini, the SASM leader, spoke passionately for the march at the morning assembly. They prayed and marched singing: “Senzeni na? Senzeni na?” (What have we done? What have we done?).
Other schools had heard about the march and headed to Orlando West to meet up with the main body. Hector Pieterson was not meant to be part of the march, he saw his sister Antoinette and ran to join her. He was shot and bled to death; his image went around the world and epitomized the brutality of the day on which scores of schoolchildren died.
The police blocked the streets and released a snarling dog sending students running in panic. The girls screamed and the boys stoned the dog.
“I don’t know where the petrol came from, but it was poured on the dog to burn,” says Moloto.
With angry youths fighting and retreating, the students scattered; attacking government property and anything to do with the system. By this time, parents had joined in, says Moloto.
Amid the chaos, there were workers digging a trench for a cable, under the guard of a white boss with hands in pockets. When the angry teenage mob came, the man was thrown into the trench and made to dig, says Moloto. The terrified workers were made to stand and watch their white boss dig with their hands in their pockets.
The violence swept through Soweto and spread to the train stations, forcing drivers to avoid stopping. Soon there were no longer trains, says Moloto.
“In fact, I think hijackings started in 1976, if you come with a company car, you will be taken out the car and they will drive around and burn it.”
As the uprising raged, bystanders suffered. There was a welfare office, not far from Morris Isaacson High School, run by Dr Melville Edelstein, who was loved by the people.
“When we were marching, he was standing at the gate wearing a white dustcoat and was waving to students, they had a good relationship, but in the evening he was brutally killed because of the color of his skin. He was white,” says Moloto.
A white teacher at Morris Isaacson was luckier and airlifted to safety by police.
Moloto woke up the next day and walked to school. He saw petrol tanks burning; the looting was chaotic.
Then came the crackdown. Police arrested students and many went on the run.
“When we went back to school days after the violence, we were told most of the leadership was arrested,” he says.
The shattered schools of Soweto came together again for a peaceful protest in the heart of the economy, downtown Johannesburg, on August 2. It was the biggest protest by far, says Moloto, but no one was hurt.
“The demand was to release those that have been arrested,” he says.
The students changed strategy.
“We called for a national stay away, that we should be indoors, nobody will be shot,” says Moloto.
The students decided to hit back at the economy by stopping people from going to work. They blocked and burned buses. In a few short weeks, Moloto evolved from a high school child, in blazer and tie, to a rebel.
Today, Moloto owns taxis, and has shares in the Rea Vaya Bus Rapid Transit System. He runs a butchery in Soweto and is also the project coordinator of the June 16 Foundation. After all, it was a day that changed his life.
<div id="attachment_4915" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4915" class="size-medium wp-image-4915" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/GettyImages-88415897-300x206.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="206" />Young rioters surround a burning bus during the Soweto Uprising in Johannesburg, 17th June 1976. The riots were a reaction against the government&#8217;s repressive apartheid policies. (Photo by Popperfoto/Getty Images)</div>
<h1>“Light Show Me The Way, It’s Dark And The Road Is Far And Long”</h1>
<h6>Barney Mokgatle not only lost his innocence; 
he also lost his country.</h6>
&nbsp;
It was the very first shot that killed Hastings Ndlovu. That was when the wall of apartheid was cracked and it fell. If it wasn’t for that bullet, we wouldn’t have fought,” says Barney Mokgatle who was next to Ndlovu when he fell.
“Nobody can claim that Hector Pieterson was shot first.”
Mokgatle was the lieutenant to Tsietsi Mashinini who led the march in 1976. Mokgatle, looking younger than his peers, is now a senior member at church; he believes black consciousness is next to Godliness. He is also a member of the royal family at the Royal Bafokeng, near Rustenburg, in the North West province of South Africa.
Back in 1976 he was just another rebel in school uniform. When Ndlovu was killed, Mokgatle suggested the march be dispersed. Instead police descended on schools across Soweto looking for Mashinini; meanwhile Mokgatle was driving the wanted man around.
“Now the police were hunting us, we could not sleep in one place for two nights because there were people who were selling us out,” says Mokgatle.
Soweto activists Winnie Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, parents and principals pressurized Mashinini, Mokgatle and friend Selby Semela to leave the country. They argued that police wanted to kill them, rather than charge them, because in court they could attract public sympathy, he says. There was also a reward of R500 on their heads – a fortune in those days, enough to buy a new house.
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When they tried to leave, there were roadblocks everywhere on the way to Botswana, Mozambique and Swaziland. Mashinini and Mokgatle organized a second mass demonstration across the country that they believed could prove a diversion. The ruse worked.
“When they relaxed on the roads and borders, that’s when we slipped out. We went through the bushes at night and there was a song we sang on the way,” he recalls.
As Mokgatle sings, I could feel the emotion and see the anguish in his face 40 years on.
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“Sedi laka, mponesetse tsela
Ke tsamaye
Ho lefifi, hape ho sebaka
Ntsamaise…”
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In English: “Light show me the way,
It’s dark and the road is far and long,
But when I’m with you I’ve got power…”
When they slipped out of South Africa, they did not know the way to Botswana. Those who had organized their escape moved the rebellious youths from one village to another.
“It was a relay in that fashion, at night, through the bush,” he says. “We could hear the lions and elephants from a distance and we were not aware of the danger, we had no fear.”
They reached the Botswana border the following morning; as they stood on the border fence, about to jump, Mokgatle remembers saying “We shall return.”
In the capital, Gaborone, journalists awaited them.
“That’s how South African police knew that we had skipped the country because of what they had read in the media,” he says. There were attempts to kidnap them and bring them back to South Africa. They knew they couldn’t afford to stick around.
Through Tutu and the World Council of Churches, they organized tickets to fly to Holland. When they landed in Lusaka, Zambia, they did not have a visa for an overnight stay, so they switched to British Caledonian to fly straight on to Holland even though they had no travel documents when they landed in London en route.
“Because we didn’t have passports, that’s where the problems started, that’s where we had to change destination, we were arrested and detained at Gatwick airport,” he says.
Journalist Jon Blair, a South African living in England, helped by telling media houses that three Soweto uprising survivors were detained at Gatwick airport. Years later, Blair made the first British documentary about the 1976 uprising.
“The following morning it was like bees coming to the airport,” he says.
The African National Congress (ANC), the Anti-Apartheid Movement and the Pan African Congress (PAC) were all there. The ANC took them under their wing because they were the most powerful. The trio refused to join the party because they had different political ideas. The ANC walked away, says Mokgatle.
“We had to fend for ourselves and that’s when the Nigerian embassy in Botswana contacted us. We went to meet Nigerian head of state Olusegun Obasanjo,” he says.
The military ruler told them Nigeria would support them if they were a national body rather than regional. Hence they changed from the Soweto Student Representative Council to the South African Youth Revolutionary Council (SAYRCO). From there, they were independent of the ANC, with Nigerian backing.
The Soweto schoolboys Mashinini, Mokgatle and Semela were sent to different countries. Mashinini to Nigeria; Mokgatle stayed in England; Semela to the United States.
Mokgatle’s role was to talk about divestment in South Africa, trying to tell the world why they were fighting the oppressive system, as well as raising funds for scholarships for those who didn’t want military training.
“We were conscientizing the world,” he says.
Mashinini and Semela did the same in their allocated countries.
“Our struggle helped the country, it made the ANC and PAC wake up, they had to fight rigorously. To be honest, the ANC and PAC were not active before June 16, it’s only when we fought and struggled and became independent in London that they realized that these guys are going to take the limelight from them, they had to wake up and do something,” he says.
<div id="attachment_4916" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-4916" class="size-medium wp-image-4916" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/GettyImages-102096119-300x224.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="224" />Demonstrators in the streets during the Soweto uprising, South Africa, 21st June 1976. (Photo by Keystone/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)</div>
Mashinini died in Guinea where he was treated like a son by former president Ahmed Sékou Touré. He was introduced by Miriam Makeba – a South African singer and human rights campaigner nicknamed Mama Africa. Mokgatle suggests Mashinini was murdered.
“I still say to the comrades that there needs to be an investigation done, because what killed Tsietsi, nobody would say. Except for the gashing wounds behind the head, next to the eyes, we could tell he was beaten, who killed Tsietsi and who bought those people. He did not die a natural death,” he says.
Makeba, who was in Brussels, broke the news to Mokgatle in England.
“Miriam called me and said Barney your brother is dead, he passed on last night,” he recalls.
He asked her for a ticket to Guinea so they can arrange to take Mashinini back to South Africa. She refused and told him to go to Zimbabwe to meet the body.
He met the body in Zimbabwe in early 1990, by this time Nelson Mandela was released and exiles could go home.
Mokgatle came home in 1992; Semela still lives in the United States.
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Walking Into A Day Of Horror

It is a peaceful 200-yard walk from the Cape Town city streets to the gates of Parliament, but inside it was loaded like a gun; anger blazed in the eyes of many for Jacob Zuma, President of South Africa for nearly seven years and head of the African National Congress (ANC).
A small group outside Parliament held up placards reading ‘ANC Betraying South Africa’. The leader, in a navy suit, who wishes to be known only as Michael, said they had taken their lunchbreak to voice their disgust.
“The ANC members here today must do the honorable thing and fire this president who flaunts our wealth.”
A man dressed in the darkness of death contrasted against Parliament’s bright white walls. He held a cardboard match to a cardboard Constitution as MPs floated past in their luxury vehicles.
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Curious students across the way ran to see what the fuss is all about. One claimed Zuma is running the economy into the ground, another countered that he is too powerful to be ousted.
The street vendor, a few blocks down, didn’t care. He sold sweets and cigarettes to anyone who had money, be it Economic Freedom Fighter (EFF) red or ANC green and gold, as they shuffled toward Parliament. No one wanted to miss this one.
Inside, the debate raged like a fire on Table Mountain. The gallery was packed as leaders of the opposition parties tore into the ruling ANC. Mmusi Maimane, the first black leader of the Democratic Alliance (DA), likened the ills of his opponents to a disease.
“Corruption has infected the entire party like a cancer. While our attention today focuses on a large and malignant tumour, we know that under the surface, the disease has replicated itself in every cell,” said Maimane.
“Today, it will be recorded that ANC members of Parliament chose to defend a crooked, broken president instead of the constitution and the rule of law. Today will signal once and for all that the ANC has lost its way and there’s absolutely no way back.”
Nhlanhla Khubisa, National Freedom Party secretary-general, called for the president to be elected by the citizens, and not by the party.
Pieter Mulder, Freedom Front Plus leader, reminded the ANC of the fate of their predecessor, Thabo Mbeki, who was recalled in 2008.
“His mistakes were 10 times less serious than Zuma&#8230; Sir, if ANC members once again ignore the facts of the last week… take my word for it, history will in a couple of years from now judge them very harshly and negatively,” said Mulder.
ANC MP and Deputy Minister of Justice and Constitutional Development, John Jeffery, bit back.
“The DA claims the president seriously violated the Constitution, but here is the issue: the court did not find a serious violation of the Constitution as Section 89 (1) requires&#8230; The court did not declare Zuma violated his oath of office as the EFF had wanted.”
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A statement was read out:
The Presidency wishes to correct media reports wrongly stating that the judgement by the Constitutional Court found that President Jacob Zuma had broken his oath of office. The Constitutional Court did not make such a declaratory order.
The Constitutional Court instead ruled that “The failure by the President to comply with the remedial action taken against him, by the Public Protector in her report of 19 March 2014, is inconsistent with section 83(b) of the Constitution read with sections 181(3) and 182(1)(c) of the Constitution and is invalid.
Votes were cast, results read, the dust settled and the opposition walked out – oh, by the way, Zuma won: 233 votes to 143.
<h1>How Did We Get Here?</h1>
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Even if President Jacob Zuma does survive, this fragile democracy will face an acid test on August 3. Millions of South Africans will go to the polls for municipal elections in which the ruling ANC is expected to lose ground.
How did we get here? Well, the tension has built since 2009, when the story of Nkandla broke. Seven years later, South Africa&#8217;s Constitutional Court – the highest in the land – found Zuma to have unduly benefited from $15 million worth of upgrades to his personal home in KwaZulu-Natal. The court stated Zuma failed to uphold, defend and respect the constitution as the supreme law of the land.
A humbled Zuma apologized publicly to the country on television. The ANC backed him.
&#8220;I wish to reiterate that any action that has been found not to be in keeping with the constitution happened because of a different approach and different legal advice&#8230; I never knowingly or deliberately set out to violate the constitution&#8230; It was never my intention not to comply with the remedial action taken against me by the Public Protector [Thuli Madonzela] or to disregard her office.&#8221;
Other loyalists called for more than an apology. Trevor Manuel, South Africa&#8217;s former finance minister, wanted resignation. Even Ahmed Kathrada, who faced death with Nelson Mandela in the 1960s, wrote a letter calling for Zuma to go.
&#8220;I know that if I were in the President’s shoes‚ I would step down with immediate effect,&#8221; wrote Kathrada.

Go Now, Mr President!

The African National Congress (ANC), the oldest political party on the continent, was formed on January 8, 1912, in Bloemfontein, South Africa. It took more than 40 years to recognize women in its ranks. The ANC Women’s League was born in 1956 – the same year it led 20,000 women on a march, against apartheid pass laws, to the Union Buildings, in Pretoria.
Their image has changed little in 60 years.
Fast forward to 2016 and the Women’s League is desperate to modernize its image. On January 7, in Bloemfontein, the eve of the ANC’s 104-year-anniversary celebrations, Women’s League members launched the Young Women’s Desk to rejuvenate itself. On the night of the launch, 5,000 women saw a glamorous fashion show instead of a march.
“The Women’s League is fundamentally conservative; it is structured in a way that is not open to the voices of these young women. It has a kind of an old notion of respect for age and hierarchy. But that’s politics that are not going to work anymore. These young women are not scared of anybody. You saw them in students’ marches. And they’re certainly not going to hold back demands in order to be polite and respectful,” says Shireen Hassim, a political science professor at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg.
“We identified a need for integrating young women within the ranks of the organization, so that we could make them politically conscious; understand why women have to be part of the struggle at a young age,” says Tokozile Xasa, spokesperson of the Women’s League, who admits it took 15 years to come up with a plan.
In the past, the Women’s League has been the butt of jokes and criticized for lacking vibrant ideas to improve the circumstances of women. Last year, a cheeky artist, Ayanda Mabulu, painted an image of President Jacob Zuma naked and sexually assaulting a woman. The Women’s League reacted with a protest march to the Union Buildings to protect the image of the president – it was a flop.
<div id="attachment_31526" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-31526" class="wp-image-31526 size-medium" src="http://www.forbesafrica.com/app/uploads/2017/05/Thoko-067-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" srcset="https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Thoko-067-200x300.jpg 200w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Thoko-067-300x451.jpg 300w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Thoko-067-600x902.jpg 600w, https://cms.forbesafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Thoko-067.jpg 681w" sizes="(max-width: 200px) 100vw, 200px" />Thoko Xasa</div>
“But there are many issues that they could take up. It could take up the issues of the feminization of poverty. It could be marching to demonstrate its concern about gender-based violence in society. It could be talking about not the indignities put upon the body of the president but indignities put upon black women every day. This is a complicated politics that is hard to understand,” says Hassim.
“I just don’t think, as a collective leadership, they have a clear and firm set of priorities. That’s why you get a lot of waffling from the leadership, they haven’t strategized properly about what their core message is and how they are going to move forward. I don’t think individually there’s a weakness – it is collective weakness. They are caught between always wanting to be supporting the men. They need to be much more assertive about women’s leadership,” says Hassim, the author of the book The ANC Women’s League: Sex, Politics and Gender, published in 2014.
A few weeks after the youth desk launch, FORBES WOMAN AFRICA met Xasa, who is also the Deputy Minister of Tourism, at her home in Waterkloof, Pretoria.
“Today, we pride ourselves that young women are breaking into the domain of men… We are able to say this is how far we have gone, relating to issues of our (misogyny) history. If you were following the (university) students’ fees protests (in South Africa), we have more young women who are unafraid to take up leadership. This made us realize that these young women are really going through stuff in those institutions. This desk is able to create platforms to engage them politically in their respective sectors,” says Xasa.
“The Women’s League will continue to play a leading role in transformation, especially on issues that our heroines ma’am Lilian Ngoyi, Gertrude Shope, Charlotte Maxeke fought for.”
Sixty years after the famous march to the Union Buildings, 800,000 of the 1.2 million ANC members are women. Yet, there are few at the top.
“We constitute a majority of membership but men still make it to the top positions, some of them literally use women to get to those positions. We are still grappling to ensure women take positions because it is not an event to change a mindset… We are challenged daily, patriarchy haunts us everywhere. Girls are not brought up as equal as boys, even in homes and schools,” says Xasa.
Despite this, she thinks there’s hope for young women. She defied ukuthwala (a traditional arranged marriage) as a teenager in the deep rural town of Libode, in the Eastern Cape.
Xasa is the face of the Women’s League. She, the sixth of seven children, lost her mother when she was 10 years old and there was no money to study after school. She became a general factory worker for less than a year, but a few years later, Xasa qualified as a teacher and taught for nine years. In 1994, Xasa was part of the first group of ANC councillors and then the first female mayor in the Eastern Cape. In 2001, she was a member of parliament in provincial legislature in Bhisho, Eastern Cape, and then the Deputy Minister of Tourism in 2010. She has a masters’ degree in public administration.
The former MEC for social development raised concerns about the limited access of young women to tertiary education.
“When they don’t have these fees to pay they will go to sugar daddies. There’s an unconfirmed report that the prevalence of HIV/Aids infections in these institutions is at an alarming rate. But what went wrong, because we have been preaching safe sex?” she says.
While there are tangible attempts to reclaim the Women’s League’s space in present day politics, elements of moral decay still exist. A week after the Young Women’s Desk launch in Bloemfontein, a group of irate women stormed the ANC office in Pretoria, protesting against an outcome at their branch meeting in the northern Gauteng township of Hammanskraal. They made the front page of local newspapers baring their buttocks.
“We were appalled. They denigrated all women. No action of that nature can justify any anger or dissatisfaction. Their demonstration was in bad taste and displayed a moral decay. If they are members of the Women’s League they will be subjected to disciplinary processes,” says Xasa.
She also expressed disappointment in the media. Xasa decried the lack of patriotism in the newspapers that published the naked women.
“Here we are trying to build a nation. Those are mothers, they have children. It’s all about journalists positioning themselves and polarizing themselves against the ANC. The level of journalism is disappointing. It’s not about promoting one organization, it’s about nation building… You could have denounced the women’s actions without using the pictures.”
“The ANC is losing the support of feminists. Even though it’s the party that delivered equality, it has not been strong in implementing what feminists would see as substantive equality going beyond having women in positions of political power… As we know there’s gender division of labor, it’s women who end up having to bear gender-based burdens. The government leadership is not seen on that front, it not effectively putting systems in place,” says Hassim.
Xasa disagrees.
“Democracy allows people to say things in their own way, so I don’t know how somebody regards herself being a feminist more than others. As the Women’s League we are the only women’s organization that is the voice of women,” she says.
Despite the challenges, the Women’s League prides itself on the achievements of their own. Early this year, the ANC National Chairperson and Women’s League leader, Baleka Mbete, was awarded the King Legacy Award in the United States. The award was named after Martin Luther King Jr, an American human rights activist. It recognizes people who make a significant contribution in race relations, justice and human rights. The former United Nations Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, and former US Secretary of State, Colin Powell, are previous recipients.
“We are proud of Sis’ Baleka. No South African had received this award. She’s the first woman in Africa. This was due to her demonstration of leadership qualities,” says Xasa.
Xasa also reveres Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, the Chairperson of the African Union Commission. She is the first woman in that position and had served as a minister under three presidents in her country.
“In the African Union, Dlamini-Zuma is going to leave behind a remarkable legacy. As we speak now, we are talking Agenda 2063, it came through her. We are changing the perception of Africa, uniting Africa. We have many more women coming behind them,” says Xasa.
With all these achievements, since 1994, the Women’s League failed to nominate a woman to be president of the country – a topic that is taboo in its ranks.
“We have a fresh mandate from the 2015 conference that women are ready to take up leadership of the country and leadership of the organization. Women have grown and demonstrated they have capacity. When the time comes, we will put forward a candidate. The name cannot be mentioned but we are ready to challenge men.”
Xasa says they have a mandate beyond South Africa. They host other women from the continent at their empowerment programs.
“If you look into the wars on the continent and the impact they have on women and children, it calls for us to really get our house in order to support those women. We were fully behind the campaign to return the Nigerian abducted girls by Boko Haram. Unfortunately those girls have not been freed.”
Sixty years after the march to the Union Buildings, apartheid was defeated but the struggles of women continue.

Launch of ANC young women’s league in Bloemfontein

Change  Of The  Old Guard?

It had been peaceful as thousands of students from the University of Johannesburg (UJ) and the University of the Witwatersrand (Wits) marched down the streets of Johannesburg to shut down UJ. Peaceful, at least, until a rock smashed into someone’s face.
This was the eighth day of the nationwide campaign to scrap university fees. It was gathering pace, as students ran in the spring sunshine you could feel the simmering anger.
Upon their arrival, most of the Wits students retreated and headed to a larger gathering at the African National Congress (ANC) headquarters, Luthuli House, after being refused entrance to UJ. The rest made for the gate – undaunted.
About 20 gigantic security guards, with the bodies of bouncers, stood behind concrete fencing and chained gates.
First words flew; then rocks, then bricks. The students tried to break the chains on the gate. A rock smashed into the face of one of the guards drawing a torrent of blood. The battle raged for 20 minutes, until the chains broke.
The students moved in hesitantly with their hands in the air; the rattled guards, bloodied with bricks in hand, stood by. Their last hope of stopping the students: the small road, over the freeway, that leads to the university.
The guards dashed for the bridge. They blocked hundreds of charging students. Two students fainted in the stampede but the guards stood firm. There was no backing down. Not even pepper spray deterred the determined students.
“They’re throwing stones, they’re hitting us, they’re spraying things on our face. What must we do? Must we look at them and smile?” asks one of the students with tears running down her cheeks.
Eventually, university staff allowed students through; UJ was shut down.
A few kilometers away in downtown Johannesburg, students lay siege to Luthuli House, the offices of the ANC. The ruling party was prepared. It set up a stage and microphone for the protesters; not too surprising for a liberation movement born of protest. But the 103-year-old party, the oldest in Africa, wasn’t prepared for the young fury of 2015.
On this day, even one of the most powerful men in the land couldn’t hold sway. ANC Secretary General, Gwede Mantashe, and the President of the Congress of South African Trade Unions (Cosatu), Sidumo Dlamini, were told to come down from the stage and talk to the students on the streets. Students then told them to sit down on the road, they refused. Mantashe was also refused an opportunity to address the crowd.
“ANC must fall,” were the chants that met the sunset from the mouths of the children and grandchildren of the struggle that put the party in power.

Must We Look At Them And Smile?

A family man, who stood up for what he believed in, paid with his life. In the coalmining town of Dundee, situated in a valley of the Biggarsberg mountains, in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal (KZN) province, it is one of the many sad, yet largely unsung, stories of whistleblowing in Africa.
Blowing the whistle is a tough game in 21st-century Africa, but, it’s as important as ever in a world of more and more dirty secrets. In many parts of the world, whistleblowers have become household names,  such as Chelsea Manning, after disclosing sensitive military and diplomatic documents, and Edward Snowden after he leaked classified information from the National Security Agency. In Africa, online warrior Baba Jukwa, who leaked sensitive information about Zimbabwe’s ruling party Zanu-PF; and Kenya’s John Githongo, who embarrassed the powerful with his book It’s Our Turn To Eat, are far from lauded.
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Sadly, many whistleblowers in Africa are ruined or die unsung. They are shunned, harassed, jailed and left jobless.
In the small town of Umzinyathi District in KZN, South Africa, whistleblowing ended with a bullet. Grishen Bujram, from Dundee, was respected and hardworking. He had been an activist since he was 15 and a councillor. One day, he found that free houses for the poor were being sold for profit. South Africa has built millions of the so-called Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) houses, putting a roof over millions of heads.
Bujram was outraged and alleged the mayor of the African National Congress (ANC)-controlled Endumeni municipality, Thandeka Nukani, had sold 17 RDP houses and also taken one for herself; even though she had a well-paid job.
Bujram confronted the mayor and reported it to the council. On June 15, 2007, he was allegedly called for a meeting. His widow, Shirley Bujram, kissed him goodbye at the door at 6:30PM, unaware it was the last time she would see him alive.
“I was home with my children and I heard someone pounding at the door. When I went to the kitchen it was dark but I could see the police blue lights. I assumed my husband went and smashed someone or something else had happened. When I opened the door I saw the police and his nephew there. I said to the nephew, ‘if your uncle is in trouble I will leave him in jail till the end of the weekend,’” says Shirley.
The men in blue asked Shirley to sit down as they delivered the news. They said Bujram had been shot many times at the wheel in a township near Dundee.
“He was like a father to all of us in the community,” says resident Muzikayifani Khumalo – eight years later.
Another resident Thando Dube* says, “The thing that ended his life was his hatred for corruption. People like Bujram are the people who die for telling the truth. In this district, we are scared to talk because we are face to face with the gun. This place is corrupt but if you speak up you die.”
In the days after the death, Nukani, according to Shirley, visited the family to pass her condolences.
“Her exact words were ‘your husband’s killers must rot in jail’ which is shocking because she had previously sent me messages saying my husband is interfering with her work and has a jealous syndrome. If he continues on his path against her, he will be sorry,” she says.
According to the widow, a woman who was with Bujram, minutes before the assassination, testified in court that Bujram knew he was being followed by the mayor’s car, but thought nothing of it. Two brothers, on their way home from work; witnessed the mayor’s boyfriend, Bongani Shangase, shoot Bujram and her nephew, Siyabonga Nukani, used the car as a getaway vehicle.
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This breakthrough gave way to disappointment for the Bujram family. They say Dundee police had the case for three months but no arrest was made until the widow went to the organized crime unit.
Police arrested Nukani, but charges were dropped for insufficient evidence. Detectives arrested Shangase and Siyabonga Nukani. Shangase received a life sentence; Siyabonga turned state witness and got 20 years.
“Thandeka planned to have her nephew poisoned because he had turned state witness. Her boyfriend worked with other inmates to make this happen but the inmates couldn’t go through with it,” says Shirley.
There were charges for the attempted murder of Siyabonga Nukani, against Thandeka Nukani. They were withdrawn, in 2011, due to insufficient evidence.
Shirley Bujram and the police, with Siyabonga Nukani’s cooperation, also found there was a hitman, Mzamo Majola.
“I found out that when [Bujram] was killed it was the third attempt which became successful. The hitman had tried two times before. On the day Bujram was killed, Mzamo Majola couldn’t go ahead with it because there were people around. Shangase got agitated and killed my husband himself,” she says.
The police offered Majola a deal to turn state witness. Based on his evidence, police arrested Thandeka Nukani again.
In August last year, Judge Isaac Nkosi withdrew the Bujram murder charges against Thandeka Nukani after Majola went on the run.
For the second time, the former mayor walked free.
Thandeka Nukani has been redeployed as the personal assistant to Umzinyathi District mayor, James Mthethwa. She lost her mayoral seat after it was found R100,000 ($7,410) in legal fees, for the Bujram case, were allegedly paid for by the ANC.
Thandeka Nukani did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
Nearly eight years on, Bujram’s comrades carry whistleblowing forward at equal risk. Mzwakhe Sithebe and Yussuf Kader are fellow activists who fight corruption in KZN and are often ridiculed for doing so.
“During the apartheid era we were fighting for justice together with Grishen Bujram. Now, in a democratic country, we are still faced with the same tendencies. The problem is people driven by greed,” says Sithebe.
“The problem is that politicians have been elevated and are like a law [unto] themselves. We will always fight for justice. The issue of being eliminated unfortunately is the fate for all of us who stand against corruption. We will raise questions that need to be raised irrespective of who will be offended and decide to kill us. We have lost a number of whistleblowers in this area. We need some kind of system that protects people willing to come forward with sensitive information.”
Kader, a businessman who now drives a bulletproof car, says whistleblowers risk their lives for the good of the country.
“Houses of the poorest of the poor are being taken by those in power. Some RDP houses get sold and there is a lot of inside corruption which we continue to fight against,” says Kader.
Because of the corruption, Kader has written a letter demanding the dismissal of five government employees.
“As it stands, I can be killed at any time but I am not afraid to die for the poorest of the poor.”
Endumeni Municipality’s Mayor Thulani Mahaye, the successor to Mayor Nukani, encourages people to come forward with any information that exposes irregularities.
“I am proud of the police and the community right now. They are working together to make this area safer and ensure arrests are made when a crime is committed. If someone needs to blow the whistle and they are afraid of being eliminated, they can secretly come forward and protection will be given to them,” he says.
Despite this, controversy over houses, that saw the death of Bujram, rumbles on.
A five-minute drive outside Dundee lies the small town of Glencoe. Its residents are up in arms against the municipality. They allege 71 names, for RDP houses, in Glencoe’s Sithembile Phase 2 projects, have been removed from the list.
“It is unclear how so many people lost houses they had applied, and had been approved, for. It can only be corruption. People’s names are disappearing from the list or being withdrawn without reason. For some people, untrue claims of application withdrawals are even made,” says Glencoe resident Sifiso Madi.
“An RDP house that I applied for was approved but when the houses were built they said I withdrew my application which I never did. They also said that they looked for me to come and sign documents but didn’t find me. This is not true because no one ever contacted me or my next of kin, sent a letter or came to where I stay to look for me,” says one Dundee woman who wants to remain anonymous for fear of retribution.
Another frustrated resident says “my cousin died in 2008 but an RDP house had been approved for him. He left dependants, so in 2013 when the houses were being built I decided to check on the progress to make sure his children have a place to stay. Funnily enough, they gave me a list that says my cousin withdrew the application. How is that possible when he is dead? Did he wake up from his grave to withdraw it? I asked the human settlement people to show me where my cousin signed to withdraw his application for the house he had already been approved for, but obviously, because it never happened, they were not able to provide any proof.”
Many who rocked the boat like Bujram also paid with their lives.
In June, just 55 kilometers from Dundee, Vusi Ntombela, an Nquthu Municipality council speaker for the ANC, and teacher and deputy principal at Luvisi Primary School, was gunned down while teaching a Grade 6 class. A gunman walked into his classroom and shot him four times. Two pupils were caught in the crossfire. Thirteen-year-old Elizabeth Nhleko died from a stray bullet.
The widow, Thembelihle Ntombela, told journalists she believes Vusi was killed because of tensions within the ANC. In December last year, Vusi had resisted an instruction from the ANC sub-region to resign as speaker. His murder is allegedly related to political tensions in the governing party’s Inkosi Bhambatha region and in the council itself.
Police arrested Mbhekiseni Khambule and Sibongiseni Mdakane for the murder. Khambule is the bodyguard of Nquthu mayor, Emily Molefe. Mdakane was later sentenced to life imprisonment. He confessed that he had been promised R15,000 (around $1,100) for the hit by his co-accused.
In May 2008, Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) councillor Peter Nxele was shot dead in his driveway for speaking out against corruption just a week after raising questions about R50,000 ($3,700) that had gone missing from a council business grant. He also requested a forensic audit into the spending of the Endumeni municipality. One of the five men accused of gunning down Nxele is Bongani Shangase, the same man who killed Bujram.
In June 2009, 124 kilometers from Dundee where Bujram was killed, Tony Malunga, an ANC councillor and regional executive committee member, was gunned down at his home in Greytown. He was allegedly killed because of his fight against corruption. Malunga was found lying in a pool of blood outside the ANC offices.
Back in Dundee, Shirley Bujram vows to fight for justice for her husband’s murder.
“My husband was diabetic but a month before he died he said to me he was not going to be killed by diabetes because there is a bullet there for him; and by the bullet he died.”

“If You Speak Up You Die”

It’s 8am and Ela Gandhi, wearing a traditional khadi kameez, is seated on a sofa by the window of her modest 13th floor apartment in the hilly Glenwood area of Durban, South Africa.
The apartment, where she lives with her youngest daughter Ashish Ramgobin and her two children, overlooks the Durban harbor and offers sweeping vistas of the city. A stately piano is next to her, which she often plays, and above it, a painting of her grandfather Mahatma Gandhi gifted to her by the Rustomjee business family in Durban.
In the living room where she is, are glass showcases filled with sepia photographs, Gandhi memorabilia, pictures of Ela with Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama, and several silver and crystal plaques, medallions and awards, among them, the prestigious Padma Bhushan (India’s third highest civilian award) she received from the Indian government in 2007.
In January this year, Ela received an award for her lifetime contribution to the freedom struggle in South Africa alongside other veterans of the Umkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation) – the armed struggle wing of the African National Congress (ANC). Ela clarifies she had never been a member of the armed wing, but receiving the award was an honor.
On the other side of the room, pictures of her as a child with her grandmother Kasturba Gandhi, and in the lap of Abdul Gaffar Khan, a lifelong pacifist and friend of her grandfather’s. There is a black and white photo in the hallway that is a particular favorite: of a six-year-old Ela in a white dress standing next to Mahatma Gandhi at the height of the freedom struggle in India.
In her bedroom are bookshelves laden with tomes on her grandfather; she rates the one by author Sudheendra Kulkarni to be the best. She spends most mornings here, working on the computer, editing articles for the monthly non-profit newspaper Satyagraha published in Durban.
<div id="attachment_6385" style="width: 210px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-6385" class="wp-image-6385 size-medium" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/FWA-2014-Aug-Sep-030-031-Ela-Gandhi-002-200x300.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />Ela at the Phoenix Settlement in Inanda; on the wall is the reproduction of a note signed “MK Gandhi”</div>
“I have been inspired by my grandfather’s teachings all my life. Be the change you wish to see, is my favorite quote of his,” says Ela.
Her daughter Ramgobin, who runs an NGO promoting sustainable livelihoods for the poor, says Gandhi is an important part of their legacy in South Africa. “In India, Mahatma Gandhi is a public holiday, but his messages are very relevant in our lives here,” she says.
Ela has upheld the family’s legacy, running several community projects, among them the Phoenix Settlement where Gandhi ran his anti-discrimination activities during his 21-year stint in South Africa. All through her illustrious political career, Ela has had the distinction of interacting with Nobel laureates – Tutu, Mandela, and Albert Luthuli who was also a close friend of the Gandhis.
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The Drive To Phoenix
Ela revs up the engine of her turquoise Toyota sedan for the 20 kilometer drive to the Phoenix Settlement in Inanda district. As she hits the N2 North freeway – she is a careful driver – she speaks of the apartheid era, when she was banned in 1973 for her political activism, and placed under house arrest for eight-and-a-half years.
“I had to report to the police station every Saturday and couldn’t leave the house between 7PM and 7AM. I had to stay indoors on weekends and public holidays,” she says.
The years roll by as she recollects the day her son Khush was shot dead, a year before South Africa’s democratic elections. He was only 29. To date, she does not know who was behind it or if it was politically motivated.
“The scar of losing a child will never leave you. [We] will never know why it happened. It was covered up,” says Ela.
In 1990, she was among the United Democratic Front team that met with Mandela at Pollsmoor Prison in Cape Town prior to his release. When the ANC government came to power in 1994, she served as an MP for nine years. She has met with Madiba many times since.
“He used to call me by name,” she says.
As still part of the Phoenix constituency, Ela developed a program against domestic violence, and started her work with the Gandhi Development Trust.
When we finally reach the Phoenix Settlement, it is clear Ela feels at home here.
This is where she was born in 1940, living here for the first six years of her life. After the Mahatma’s return to India in 1914, it was Ela’s father Manilal Gandhi who came back to Phoenix in 1917 to run the Gujarati-English newspaper Indian Opinion and continue his father’s legacy. Ela’s father was also a strong influence in her life on the Phoenix farm.
“We had a small kitchen with a chimney and a central dining room. All the children slept on the wooden floor. The place was buzzing with life. Although we had no power or water, we had very good times here,” she recalls.
When her grandfather first set up the communal farm in 1904, the homestead was a humble wood and iron dwelling. He valued simplicity, manual work and self-sufficiency. “It was a snake-infested property and my grandfather was afraid of snakes,” she says.
What was a 100-acre farm is today “a fenced-in area of about 1.5 acres” including a school and a museum, which records Mahatma Gandhi’s influences – Tolstoy being one of them – and how he influenced the world.
“This is a site of extraordinary significance in the liberation movement. John Dube, the founding president of the ANC, was his neighbor. There was so much contact between them, but it’s not talked about,” says Ela.
Ela remembers one particular conversation she had with her grandfather, while at the Sevagram (land of service) ashram in India that advocated simple living and farming.
“I told him that if they want to cook and serve pumpkins in the communal kitchens everyday, why do they call it ‘land of service’? They should call it ‘land of pumpkins’. Later during a speech, he told the people that when he asked them to live in simplicity, he did not expect them to eat pumpkins every day. I remember so distinctly that conversation with him and the aftermath of it. Everybody was curious who had leaked it to him.”
Ela says even after he left South Africa, Gandhi stayed in touch with Indians here, telling them “your destiny is connected with Africans, so work closely with them”.
Ela visits India at least twice a year, visiting her mother’s relatives in the state of Maharashtra, and never missing an opportunity to visit the Gandhi memorial at Raj Ghat in New Delhi.
“I visit India, but I am a proud South African,” says Ela. She is Gandhi’s indelible link to South Africa.

Grandfather Gandhi AND I

They call it the Ring of Fire and in the last few years it has been getting hotter. This is the ring of sporadic protests around Johannesburg. The howl of the poor on the doorstep of one of the richest cities in Africa.
Most of these protestors vote and their dissatisfaction could signal a drop in support for the ruling ANC, which has guided South Africa through its 20 years of democracy.
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The protests happen on different days, but follow the same pattern. Burning tires, rocks on the road and fighting between protestors and police. In many weeks, they are as frequent on radio as the traffic news.
The police struggle to control the unrest. Schools close their doors as demonstrators pelt police with stones and petrol bombs.
Protesters burned down two of the Independent Electoral Commission’s voter registration stations in February.
In Gauteng, the province of Johannesburg, acting commissioner Lieutenant General Lesetja Mothiba says police saw 569 protest marches since November, of which 122 were violent.
“The South African public must realize what is confronting the members [police] on a daily situation while dealing with these issues of protest marches and demonstrations. These are not petty things, these are not issues that you can say &#8216;go read a book&#8230; and it will tell you how to deal with these issues&#8217;,&#8221; he says.
Gauteng premier Nomvula Mokonyane says the slow response to service delivery protests was leading to violence. She claims that opportunists, who lost out on government tenders, fueled some of the protests.
“Protests would not have happened if government responded quicker. Where violence happens we must act,” she says.
Research on service delivery protests by the Centre for Sociological Research, at the University of Johannesburg, suggests that, despite overwhelming support for the ANC, communities are frustrated with their ward councillors and local government.
Peter Alexander, the director of the center and South African research chair for social change at the university, says 60% of South African youth are unemployed, leading to discontent.
“The protests that swept across the country are not a novel occurrence on the social and political landscape. Impoverished residents of neglected townships have been voicing their dissatisfaction with ineffective and inadequate service delivery since the ANC rise to power in 1994,” says Alexander.
The communities involved in the cluster of service delivery protests share problems and frustrations. Poverty and unemployment are high. There’s a lack of water, sewage systems, street lighting, paved roads and housing.
“Many people don’t have the full range of service delivery, and they are continuously used as voting fodder in elections. Protests are about a range of issues, dominant to them is the youth unemployment. Their frustrations cannot be interpreted merely as a sign of displeasure with service delivery. Deeper discontent with available channels for participatory democracy underlies the protesters’ anger.”
The majority of protesters support the ANC. They are unhappy with their party because they believe the promises for a better life have not been fulfilled. To make the matters worse the government doesn’t understand, says Alexander.
In November, as Bekkersdal residents, west of Johannesburg, took to the streets to demand better government services, ANC veteran Winnie Madikizela-Mandela acknowledged that conditions in the area had not changed since 1994.
ANC deputy president Cyril Ramaphosa, campaigning for elections in Kagiso township in February, denied that service delivery protests were a sign people have abandoned the ANC.
President Jacob Zuma, in the state of the nation address in February, also downplayed the gravity of the recurring service delivery protests.
“The dominant narrative in the case of the protests in South Africa has been to attribute them to alleged failures of government. However, the protests are not simply the result of failures of government, but also of the success in delivering basic services. When 95% of households have access to water, the 5% who still need to be provided for feel they cannot wait a moment longer.”
Africa Check, a non-profit organization that promotes accuracy in public debate and the South African media, found that the figure differs between provinces. The president does not clearly define what he means by access to water, the most recent census claims that access is defined as either being inside a household, garden, or a communal tap in the street. Zuma’s claim does not speak of the quality of water—2.4% of Gauteng households said their water smelled bad in a 2012 household survey by Statistics South Africa. Nationally, 60% of households rated the quality of their water-related services as good.
Proof, that it all depends on which side of the protest you are shouting from.

Burning Ire In  The Ring Of Fire

“It’s time to let him go”, ran the front page headline of South Africa’s largest selling Sunday newspaper last month. This, a day after Nelson Mandela—struggle icon and South Africa’s first post-apartheid president—was re-admitted to hospital following a recurring lung infection. The Sunday Times was quoting Mandela’s long-time friend and comrade, Andrew Mokete Mlangeni, who had said: “The family must release him so that God may have his own way. They must release him spiritually and put their faith in the hands of God. Once the family releases him, the people of South Africa will follow.”
This from a man of few words. He is the least recognized of Nelson Mandela’s Rivonia Trial comrades. But, when 87-year-old Mlangeni does speak, he seldom minces his words; just like he didn’t mince his words more than a year ago, in our last interview. When asked to make assessment of the state of the African National Congress (ANC), specifically why South Africa’s governing party was so riddled with infighting, and was increasingly earning a reputation as being corrupt, Mlangeni retorted: “My heart bleeds when I see what is happening today. People are fighting to improve their own selves. The trouble is greed today. Everybody wants to be in the leadership. Everybody wants to be the president, the minister, earn more money, drive beautiful cars, have security around you. We are forgetting the people who have elected us into government.”
He continued: “Look at the corruption—everywhere corruption, corruption, corruption—is this what we were fighting for? Is this what people died for? We were accusing the Nationalist party government of corruption, and this is what we are doing today? My heart bleeds.”
Mlangeni’s candidness is nothing new. In court, 50 years ago, anticipating an adverse ruling by the presiding judge, Mlangeni would not cooperate with the court but instead read a terse statement: “The court can now see that some of the evidence given against me is true and some false. I have chosen not to give evidence, my Lord, because first of all, I do not want to be cross-examined about people I have worked with and places I have visited, in case I might give these people away. Also, my Lord, I have frankly admitted that I have assisted Umkhonto we Sizwe. I want to say that I joined the ANC in 1954. I did it because I want to work for my people. I did this because of the treatment my people have received from the rulers of this country. In the ANC, I found a political home, where I was free to talk against the government.”
“South Africa, my Lord, is a very rich country. The resources could be exploited for the benefit of all the people who live in it. This government and the previous governments have exploited not the earth but the people of various racial groups, whose color is not white. But the government, daily, makes suppressive laws in its white Parliament, [whose] laws are aimed at suppressing the political aspirations of the majority of the people, who have no say. I know that you, my Lord, have to administer the law, but when you do so, I ask you to remember what we, the Africans and non-white people, have had to suffer. That is all I have to say except, to add, that what I did was not for myself but for my people&#8230;”
No sooner had he said those words, Mlangeni was sentenced to life imprisonment alongside seven of his comrades—Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Ahmed Kathrada, Raymond Mhlaba, Govan Mbeki, Denis Goldberg and Elias Motsoaledi. Two of their fellow trialists, Lionel “Rusty” Bernstein and James Kantor, were acquitted. The state withdrew charges against the eleventh accused, Bob Hepple, after he agreed to testify for the prosecution.
Mlangeni would serve 26 years, many of them in an isolated cell, on Robben Island and later at Pollsmoor Prison. In his mind, he replayed his upbringing as well as the events and circumstances that led to his incarceration—from his birth on May 6, 1926 in Prospect township, in Soweto, Johannesburg as the ninth of 14 children; to starting school at 10; having to drop out two years later to find work, after his father died; working as a golf caddy; and later becoming a factory worker and bus driver.
In 1951, young Mlangeni joined the African National Congress Youth League (ANCYL) and, three years later, the ANC.
Following the ANC’s decision to move beyond passive resistance and embrace an armed struggle against the country’s colonial rulers, Mlangeni enlisted for Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK)—the ANC’s armed wing. Between 1961 and 1963 he was among the first six guerillas to undergo military training in China.
Upon the completion of their initial training—by this time he was a member of the High Command, MK’s highest decision-making body—they returned from the land of Mao Tse-tung to begin their ambitious program of insurrection. The MK’s High Command and operatives would meet secretly, every Monday, at Liliesleaf Farm. It was at this small holding, north of Johannesburg, that they plotted their operations.
Little did Mlangeni know—on a chilly Monday evening on June 24, 1963, while returning from their meeting, with assignment in hand—that state security agents were looking for him. This encounter would change his life forever.
The following morning Mlangeni was due to go to Krugersdorp, less than an hour from Johannesburg, to collect weapons to take them to a safe house.
“I arrived home at about half past eleven in the evening. My wife was asleep,” he says.
A short while later, police stormed his house, in Duke, Soweto and he was arrested. In the police car, waiting for him outside, was one of his comrades, Motsoaledi. Upon their arrival at the Pretoria Central Prison they found more of their comrades, who had already been detained.
“I was hurt, the police said the ANC is finished,” says Mlangeni.
On November 26, 1963, South Africa’s most famous political trial would begin, ending on June 12, the following year. International pressure, Mlangeni reckons, is what saved them from the death penalty.
“Strangely, we didn’t think we would die in prison. I had read a bit about the struggles of other people… [I] had seen how the Chinese struggled for their freedom; how the China Communist Party fought against emperors, against foreign occupiers of China, and how they ultimately drove all of them out,” he says.
Indeed, the Rivonia trialists would not die in prison. Mlangeni used this time to study for his Bachelor of Arts and honors degrees.
One day in 1986, while at Pollsmoor Prison, the anti-apartheid prisoners got an offer from their captors, through Mandela, affectionately known as Madiba—his clan name.
Mlangeni recalls: “Madiba was taken to hospital, where he was approached by Kobie Coetzee, who was minister of prisons at the time. Coetzee said they wanted to release the rest of us first, but keep Mandela. But would keep Mandela in a place where it would be easy for his family to come in at any time. Winnie and the kids would come see him anytime. Madiba thought it was a good idea. The comrades could go join the [anti-apartheid] forces outside.”
Upon Mandela’s return from hospital, “the four of us [Mlangeni, Sisulu, Mhlaba and Kathrada] were taken to an office where Madiba told us of this offer from government. We didn’t accept. We said: ‘What will people say? They will think we are sell outs.’”
Mlangeni says Mandela didn’t mind staying behind and thought his comrades should agree to be released, so they could strengthen the forces of freedom. What made the decision difficult was the regime’s stated logic, that if they released Mandela the country would go up in flames. The state also insisted that the activists denounce violence.
“So we rejected the offer.”
A couple of months went by.
“One day on October 1989, on the 10th, a warder came and said: ‘Guys, I want you to put on your best clothes.’ We said: ‘Why?’ He said: ‘I don’t know, you are probably going to see a minister.’”
The four were taken to Victor Verster Prison, where Mandela was now staying.
“Madiba said things had changed. He said the government was no longer singing the song of renouncing violence. They are saying they can release you and months later me. We accepted the offer. We said: ‘Okay, go and tell them that we’re prepared to take up their offer.’”
When their meeting was over, Mandela’s comrades were told they could not go back to Pollsmoor, as there was a large media contingent camping outside Victor Verster Prison.
“They were telling a lie,” chuckles Mlangeni as he recalls the sequence of events. “At eight o’clock, it was news time on TV and they had organized a TV for us. First item, the government has decided to release so and so from prison… our names… and that Madiba would be released soon. After the news they said: ‘Well chaps, the media is gone now. We can take you back to your cells.’”
“We were no longer addressed by our first names, but as Mr Mlangeni, Mr Mandela… We said we were hungry. They asked us what we wanted to eat. We said steak and chips. We hadn’t had that in a while.”
On October 15, 1989 Mlangeni, Sisulu, Mhlaba and Kathrada walked out of jail. And on February 11, 1990, Mandela followed.
Four years later, Mandela would become post-apartheid South Africa’s first democratically-elected president. Mlangeni, together with Sisulu and Mbeki, would be members of Parliament. Mhlaba would be the premier of the Eastern Cape.
Nineteen years on, Mlangeni has retired from politics, yet he remains a veteran member of the ANC. He divides his time between playing golf, very competently—he learnt as a caddy—his foundation and advising the ANC. He was a member of the electoral commission, during the last elective conference. Now, he chairs the party’s recently established Integrity Committee; it investigates allegations of corruption against party members.
The ANC has a lot of battles, Mlangeni concedes, but is adamant about its resilience.
“I know the ANC can always regroup, when things go wrong. We can always come back together.”
As for the government the ANC leads, Mlangeni says they are doing their best.
“We can’t meet the demands of our people in the few years. [Nineteen years] is too little to meet the demands of our people. It took [colonialists] more than 300 years to do what they’ve done to suppress us, to exploit us.”
Does he have any regrets?
“None whatsoever.”
What he missed a great deal though was seeing his children grow up. His wife Johanna, who died in 2001, singlehandedly brought up their four children. Mlangeni’s children were teenagers when he was arrested in 1963; the youngest was 14.
“Other things were also important… but not seeing my kids…”
Twenty six years of imprisonment didn’t change Mlangeni’s unyielding support of the fight for freedom, but when he speaks of his children, his voice trembles.

Corruption.  Is This What We Fought For?

It’s the three-letter acronym, with a sting, that few can ignore. BEE—Black Economic Empowerment—is a decade old this year and has rarely been free of controversy.
Questions are being asked about whether BEE has brought more people of color into the South African economy or reached its expiry date.
There are many critics of the ruling African National Congress’ (ANC) policies. They claim that BEE has far from closed the gap between rich and poor, despite South Africa’s solid economic infrastructure and increased social welfare spending. South Africa’s GINI co-efficient numbers—the global measurement of inequality—remain among the highest in the world.
Professor Adam Habib, political commentator and new vice-chancellor of the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, says BEE was never intended to be a policy to bring previously disadvantaged South Africans into the economic mainstream, even though it was presented as such. For him BEE was an exercise in exquisite deception.
“The ANC’s aim was not to deracialize the economy, through investing in small business or entrepreneurs, but a critical decision to deracialize the apex of white business in South Africa, which they did and created a class of capitalistic and parasitic bourgeoisie,” says Habib.
Habib uses the word “parasitic” because he says the BEE super elite have not created new business, promoted Greenfield projects or stimulated job creation or entrepreneurship that’s sustainable or meaningful.
“The irony is, it’s easier to get a tender worth R250 million ($25 million) than it is to get R25,000 ($2,500) to start a small business,” he says.
Habib says, the policy needs a complete overhaul. As he puts it: “Pigmentation becomes a tradable commodity in South Africa.”
His three checkboxes to justify BEE are: for small business development to be prioritized; a “one bite at the cherry” clause to apply for those who benefit from BEE deals; and firm action to stimulate new enterprise.
Moeletsi Mbeki is less confident that there is anything worth salvaging from the policy enacted during his brother, Thabo Mbeki’s, presidential tenure. He says BEE has not benefitted the majority of South Africans, black or white.
“In the 10 years of BEE, what we’ve learnt was that it was an important device to create an economic oligarchy for the politically connected, which was always the aim. The majority of South Africans, black or whites, are no better off because of policies like BEE or affirmative action,” says Mbeki.
“The ANC needs BEE to continue to perpetuate the illusion that everyone can enter into this circle of wealth.”
BEE has come with a complex system of scorecards, codes and charters that cut across two broad aims of skills development and employment equity. It is broken down into additional categories and indicators so government can assess companies for BEE compliance.
The ANC’s man on economic transformation is Enoch Gondongwana, who failed to respond to FORBES AFRICA’s requests for comment.
The party’s secretary general, Gwede Mantashe, has criticized BEE, saying he has “serious grievances with BEE focusing on shareholding rather helping beneficiaries gain a deeper understanding of business”.
Mantashe has slated a lack of transformation, saying the new breed of black CEOs is mere window dressing. He has also criticized growing wastage as BEE companies use the state as a cash cow, by providing poor quality goods at inflated prices.
The Black Management Forum (BMF) disagrees and says BEE has to continue because it serves the country’s growth and development needs.
“BEE is a moral initiative to redress the wrongs of the past. It’s also a pragmatic growth strategy that aims to realize the country’s full economic potential, while helping to bring the black majority into the economic mainstream. Given the fact that the economy has not transformed to encourage participation, which reflects the demographics of South Africa, makes talk of a ‘sunset clause’ irrelevant and premature,” says Rowena Baird of BMF.
Baird argues that BEE is not a racially divisive policy because its aim is not to take wealth from one group to give to another.
There are lessons from countries such as Malaysia that embarked on a 20-year-long National Economic Policy (NEP) in 1970. It was meant to eradicate poverty and restructure society, to eliminate the identification of race in economic life. It promoted affirmative action in favor of Malays but also had the effect of pushing Chinese economic, educational and cultural life to society’s periphery, leading many Chinese to feel like second-class citizens.
For Mamphela Ramphele, former managing director of the World Bank and leader of new political party Agang, the Malaysian story should be a warning to South Africa that making citizens feel alienated is a recipe for disaster.
“BEE can only work if it has real intentions to redress the legacy of the past that systematically disadvantaged black people,” she says.
Ramphele says that more structured programs need to be in place. She says well planned employee share schemes can mean money in the pockets of a wider range of previously disadvantaged individuals.
The South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR) says racial inequality has been declining, but it’s not because of the post-apartheid policies.
Anthea Jeffrey, head of special research at the SAIRR, says: “Such inequality has been declining steadily since 1970 and started under the Nationalist Party.”
Factors she cites include rising skills, unionization, and better paid jobs for Africans.
“Redistribution via the budget has played a vital part; 16 million people are now on social grants. The government also provides free RDP houses, free schooling in 60 percent of schools, free healthcare to many, and free basic water and electricity to the indigent. In addition, public sector employment has been steadily expanding, while average wages in the public sector, where Africans predominate, outstrip those in the private sector by around 40 percent,” she says.
“Despite its evident successes, racial inequality remains stark. The poor are far from being content as rising social and labor unrest makes clear. The number one aspiration of adults living in relative poverty is to get a job,” says Jeffrey.
Unequal skills and a lack of opportunity divide; makes policies like BEE and employment equity irrelevant to the poor because legislation doesn’t bring them in from the cold.

Paragons Or Parasites?

The re-election of Jacob Zuma to lead the governing party of the most powerful economy on the African continent, South Africa, was never a case of ‘if’, instead it was a case of by how big a margin he would beat his reluctant challenger, Kgalema Motlanthe. What was a puzzling paradox for many opinion makers though, was how Zuma got more than 70% of the vote when the African National Congress (ANC) gathered for its elective conference in Mangaung on December 16-20.
Were those 4,500 voting delegates so dumb and ignorant? Could they have been bought or lulled to ignore the stuff that filled newspaper columns, radio and television programs and social networks? How on earth did they miss the groundswell of indignation towards their supposedly highly unpopular and bungling president? In which South Africa did those delegates live, that they could not see what the political analysts, commentators, journalists and opposition politicians saw?
Part of the problem is the fact that the ANC still follows an archaic system of electing its leaders. No ANC leader gets to openly contest, so that they could tell why they believe they deserve the top position. As a result, s/he who controls the levers of power during party election time gets to have an upper hand and, depending on how skillful or cunning they may or may not be, the ANC leadership race is always for them to lose. This is only a small part of the problem. Those chosen become the country’s leaders by virtue of the party’s domination of the political landscape. The bigger problem has everything to do with what has become of the over 51 million people that constitute the population of South Africa.
Greed, self-centeredness and dishonesty have become only some of the defining characteristics of South Africans as wealth accumulation, getting plum positions or ensuring they keep their jobs becomes more important than anything else. In the process they’ve become meek and timid, in many ways a defeated people, blaming everything and everybody other than themselves for crises they find ourselves in. They tend to let their attitudes and emotions, prejudices and prescriptions, stand in the way of appreciating the best that there is.
Take the media and political analysts’ reaction to the election of Cyril Ramaphosa as ANC deputy president. When it became apparent that the billionaire businessman was to become the ANC’s number two, pages of newspapers and magazines, as well as hours of airtime were dedicated to full-blown ‘analysis’ of what he is going to do.
While there’s nothing wrong with someone wishing to communicate their wishes on how the ANC can best utilize Ramaphosa; the most interesting aspect of ‘Cyrilmania’ has been how glibly many have come to pronounce it, without any due regard to both the history of his re-emergence and the inner workings of the ANC.
Business and the elite media’s warmth to Ramaphosa seems to have everything to do with the fact that he represents that acceptable, affable face of the ANC—the one that fits the stereotypical image of a suave, sophisticated, articulate leader who will not embarrass. He is the welcome opposite to the polygamist country bumpkin they see in Zuma.
Almost without questioning, business and rest of the elite seem to think that finally, there’ll be a clever black at ANC headquarters where the party’s top six officials meet every Monday. Ramaphosa, the thinking seems to go, will tell Zuma what no one has hitherto had the guts to tell the 70-year-old struggle veteran about such things as inspiring investor confidence or catering to the sophisticated voter.
The truth is that not only is Ramaphosa nothing more than a benefactor of Zuma’s generosity, he is also a crowning success of his deft strategy. What is forgotten is that Zuma preferred to keep Motlanthe and that it was only after Motlanthe spurned the effort, choosing to stand against Zuma instead, that Ramaphosa came into the picture.
But simply because Ramaphosa was second choice does not mean that he cannot achieve the things that many now think he will be best-placed to accomplish. That’s not to say that Zuma is now suddenly in a mood, through Ramaphosa, to pacify constituencies he considers disdainful and unreservedly hostile. Correctly in some instances, incorrectly in others, Zuma’s comments often suggest a firm belief that most media are hell bent to destroy or undermine him.
What’s habitually forgotten is that only one man has a final say in the ANC and that’s its president. Given the way the ANC operates, the more firmly that person is in charge, as Zuma is now, the more people like Ramaphosa will have little option but to tow the line. The only time Ramaphosa will get reprieve, is if Zuma decides to anoint him. That’s if Zuma won’t seek a third term as ANC president.
In interviews with both men, Zuma insisted that he “definitely won’t seek a third term”. He did not wait for me to point out that after his election in 2007, he said he would serve only one term. Ramaphosa would not be drawn into whether he was keen on the top position. For now its “outside of my wish and imagination,” he told me. When I asked what he thought about the attitude of business towards the ANC, he replied: “The business community has not stepped up to the plate. It has held back”.
In five years’ time Ramaphosa will have the option to challenge Zuma, in the same way Zuma challenged Mbeki in 2007 and won, and Motlanthe challenged Zuma and lost.
While post-apartheid ANC leaders contested positions, often fiercely; they hardly represented fundamentally distinct visions of the ANC and the country.
One is tempted to conclude that ‘Cyrilmania’ is a clumsy, if not hopelessly inadequate effort, largely by those who disapprove of Zuma’s rule. As history has proven, the problem with that practice is that it almost always guarantees that such a move won’t be taken seriously, for ANC leaders don’t take kindly to being told by the media.
Another problem with ‘the government must do this, must do that’ tendency of South Africans is that it also serves to hide the inefficiencies of others who have the power and resources that can move the nation forward, like the country’s business and worker leadership.
Sick and tired, South Africa’s stubborn and resilient workers showed up the country’s lack of, not only political, but also business and labor leadership. Though rudderless, the workers successfully organized a massive wave of sporadic, unprotected, often violent and suicidal strikes. Although the workers lost wages and many lose jobs in the aftermath, they made their point. The ultimate loser, though, is the country’s economy.
Has organized business and labor taken the responsibility they always demand of government? No.
Hopefully South Africans will learn—and that includes the Ramaphosa fan club, which holds influential positions in the media and business—that it takes a lot more to exert real influence in their political economy and to build a nation that will be the envy of the continent. Creating heroes and villains is not the answer but a sure way to failure and disappointment.
Tempting as it might be for everyone to engage in the sport of exposing every wrong about him and blaming Zuma for all of South Africa’s ills, he is definitely not the root cause and the delegates to the ANC conference knew that. Blameless, yes, but he is at best a symbol of what is manifestly wrong with South Africans as a whole.
If there’s a lesson that history should have taught South Africans in the past 18 years of democracy, it should be that their nation stands to gain a lot more if they put themselves to the very test they put their leaders to. Everybody—including business, civil society, labor, opposition politicians, journalists, commentators and analysts—should wake up to the reality that they need to use their energies and the platforms they each have, a little more wisely and creatively. There’s nothing wrong with engaging, a lot more rigorously, but also truthfully.

Mangaung Unpacked

Adam Kahane is worried. The world-renowned facilitator, who helped shape ANC planning at the dawn of South Africa’s transition to democracy, has warned that the state lacks capacity to solve complex problems; that the citizenry is responding with protest and that the government, in return, reacts with brutal repression.
Kahane—a pivotal figure during the Mont Fleur scenarios in 1991 and 1992, that helped to shape South Africa’s democratic and economic thinking—was a central figure four years ago when the Dinokeng Scenario team came together to take stock of where South Africa was and to consider possible futures for the country.
In 2008, along with the Dinokeng team, he warned about a walking apart-scenario for the future of South Africa in which the state becomes weaker and ineffective, and that the disengaged citizenry loses patience and erupts into violence. The state then responds brutally.
Kahane said in an interview with FORBES AFRICA the walking apart-scenario is an apt description of Marikana  where scores of miners were shot dead at a mine owned by multi-national, Lonmin.
It is not a question of the state being weak morally, but its capacity has weakened to deal adequately with the challenges of society, he says.
“Some pockets of the state [are] strong, but on balance, its capacity is not strong enough to deal with the
problems effectively.
“All the scenarios that we discussed at Dinokeng coexist currently in South Africa, but what happened at Marikana, with social groups not getting what they think they deserve and protests erupting, and the state responding violently, makes this a catastrophic walking apart.
“All the mechanisms of solving disputes, between workers and trade unions, between citizens, the police and the state failed. It was a failure of mechanisms for working out disputes.
“Marikana shows that our capacity to work out difficult complex conflicts is degrading. In fact, it was a catastrophic degradation,” says Kahane.
He also warned that South Africans will have to rediscover their extraordinary capacity to work things through, instead of superficially papering things over.
Some observers have called Kahane a critical and pivotal figure in helping to shape South Africa’s economic thinking in the two years prior to the 1994 elections.
Clem Sunter, South Africa’s foremost corporate scenario practitioner, might have had Kahane in mind in January 2010, when he said that Africa had navigated its own transition to democracy and the global recession, “So take a bow, all you who were involved in the Mont Fleur initiative. You may have changed our history at a critical juncture in the fortunes of the world.”
But Kahane denies that his role was ‘pivotal’. He argues a meaningful role is a more apt description and salutes the impact of Trevor Manuel and Tito Mboweni on the ANC think tank during the Mont Fleur scenario discussions.
The Mont Fleur scenarios team questioned how South Africa’s transition will proceed and whether the country would succeed in taking off.
One of the dark prophecies that the country wanted to avoid, was Icarus, in which a constitutionally unconstrained black government comes to power on a wave of popular support and embarks on a huge and unsustainable public spending program, which crashes
the economy.
Manuel and Mboweni presented the Icarus scenario to the ANC’s leadership team. Icarus was a direct attack on the party’s orthodoxy.
Mont Fleur helped to shift the economic thinking and action of the ANC to avert an economic disaster.
“The post-1994 government had been more conservative and fiscally disciplined in its economic policies than what they were expected to be. Mont Fleur had a broad impact on the specific question to what constitutes a sustainable economic policy,” says Kahane.
“Trevor Manuel and Tito Mboweni had created the scenario and understood inside out what it meant. So I would not take personal credit [for shaping the ANC’s economic thinking], but Mont Fleur [had] made a useful contribution,” he says.
Asked whether the vibrant and vigorous debate about the nationalization of the mines presented a possible return in the ANC engine-room to socialist thinking, Kahane said one must understand the global debate about the matter.
“Not only in South Africa, but globally, the faith in markets and in the current form of capitalism that we had in the late 1980s and the 1990s has been eroded substantially. The SA government is trying to figure out what is the best way to get the social and economic results we want. In 1992, during the Mont Fleur scenarios, [the faith in capitalism] was much more credible that it is now.
“Globally there is a reopening of the question on sustainable economic models. In South Africa there are specific challenges about the extremely poor and about economic inequality which has worsened in a certain way since 1994.”
Kahane said the economic debates in South Africa are not entirely a parochial matter, but are vigorously debated elsewhere.
When Kahane and the Dinokeng-team debated possible options for the future, the most positive one was ‘Walking Together’. This tells the story of a state that becomes increasingly collaborative, listens to its citizens and leaders from different sectors and engages with critical voices.
When asked how South Africa can produce the Walk Together option, Kahane said changes by government won’t necessarily fulfill the ‘Walk Together’ scenario.
“The citizenry must increasingly stand up and say: this is what we need, think and what we want. The government might then readily or grudgingly respond to these voices.
“I think it is important that ‘Walk Together’ is driven by the citizens, and not by the state. The state will always generally have a tendency of saying, ‘We will take care of this, why don’t you keep quiet and let us do the job’. It is an error to wait for the state. The citizenry must push the country and state into walk together,” he says.
Although the drive by the citizens should not be a violent one, it is not necessarily a calm phenomenon. People will shout and push and shove, there might even be a cacophony of voices that must be tolerated in order to move to a ‘Walk Together’ scenario.
The mechanisms, cultures or institutions that allow conflicts to be addressed, even noisily, is sadly absent, he notes.
Kahane not only nudged South Africa towards a peaceful resolution, or helped post-dictatorship Guatemala move beyond the longest civil war in the history of the Americas. He and Reos Partners, of whom he is a director, have also been involved, intimately, in Zimbabwe with scenario planning and have released a document called The Great Zimbabwe Scenarios Project. They are also involved in Southern and Northern Sudan, in Europe, America and Australia.
A man equipped with such enormous insights and the author of the recently published book Transformative Scenario Planning: Working together to change the future, Kahane could offer some advice on how to arrest the current malaise in South African society, the hardening of the stance between government and some sections of society.
And Kahane says the possible answer lies in the excavation, the rediscovery of the capacity for dialogue and for collaborative action in South Africa.
“I have learned my craft in South Africa. South Africans have an extraordinary capacity to work things through. This existing capacity must be un-buried,” he says.
“We are always in a seesaw between walking together and walking apart. We are in a phase now where trust is low, polarization is high. It is about protecting myself and my people. It leads to walking apart.”
“Perhaps combinations were made that [were] superficial. Perhaps real economic, cultural or political differences were papered over. I said in a previous book of mine that love without power that papers over differences, is sentimental
and endemic.”
Kahane said the current situation might require a deeper capacity for engagement in which society and the state deal with difficult unresolved issues.
“A superficial coming together is inadequate. Difficult work is needed. We need to look at conflicts squarely and not pretend they are not there. We might be more wounded than we think we are, for untreated wounds are dangerous,” says Kahane.

Whither The Free Market

With six months to go before South Africa’s governing party, the African National Congress (ANC), goes to its elective conference, incumbent president Jacob Zuma looks set to get another term. And with that, a renewed focus on continental politics, for which his critics have chided him.
Zuma’s opponent, Julius Malema, the party’s rebellious youth league president, is not contesting the ANC presidency but is the spokesperson of a disparate group united in wanting the 70-year-old former political prisoner and intelligence operative removed from power. Their campaign though, has been dealt a huge blow.
Malema is facing several disciplinary charges and the party’s internal disciplinary committee has found him guilty on some, meaning that whatever the outcome, the young man looks set for the political rubbish dump. Unless a worthy challenger emerges between now and the December conference and goes on to defeat Zuma, he is set to remain at the helm of the 100-year-old political party and the head of Africa’s most powerful economy.
Among Malema’s most stinging criticisms of Zuma’s reign was that he had failed spectacularly where his predecessor Thabo Mbeki had done extremely well—in pursuing the African agenda. It was a criticism, and a comparison, that hurt Zuma and one that he has since looked eager to correct.
So, on March 20, when Zuma walked into the Sandton studios of pan-African television channel CNBC Africa for a live hour-long interview, with some of the continent’s CEOs and board chairpersons in the audience, he knew he had a mission to accomplish, or as his aides would have probably preferred to put it, he had a myth or two to debunk.
Sitting opposite CNBC Africa’s chief editor Godfrey Mutizwa, and occasionally fielding questions during crossings to CEOs in countries like Nigeria and Kenya, Zuma showed composure for someone who has countenanced perhaps harsher criticism than any post-apartheid president.
While some of the condemnation prior to his election had a lot to do with his indiscretions, which in turn led to sexual assault charges against him, others were in subtle ways questioning whether a man with only a primary-school education, would be able to fill the shoes of his Sussex-educated predecessor and intellectual, Mbeki. Was he best suited to preside over an ambitious country that not only likes to punch above its weight, and which likes to be loved, but is also the most sophisticated African economy?
The more Zuma sold his optimistic disposition of the continent to the CNBC viewers and the studio audience, the more friends he seemed to be making among the attendant captains of industry, many of whom wasted no time in praising him for his “insightful comments” and for “answering questions”.
One of the continent’s biggest “strides”, he said, was the formation of the African Union. “For the first time, we could define ourselves as one, as Africans and not as former British, Belgian, French colonies.”
The AU has been credited with bringing about continental political stability through promoting the culture of democratic elections as well as the principle of non-recognition of people who grab political power through coups d’état.
Zuma shared with his audience how the AU had advanced in getting member states to commit to investor friendliness, infrastructure development, better and responsible management of natural resources, environmental sustainability, education, and had now started talks about the integration of the continent’s five regional economic blocks. Asked to give timelines for the “practical implication” of the integration process, he replied: “It took two world wars before Europe could come together. Africa should be given a chance.”
A welcome sign of confidence in Africa’s future, Zuma added, was the inclusion of South Africa in BRICS, the increasingly influential group of emerging economies: Brazil, Russia, India and China. “Africa is now part of countries that are going to determine (the world’s economic) direction,” he said.
“I don’t see a crisis. I see prosperity in Africa,” he told the audience, and with a great deal of satisfaction, not to mention his trademark coy chuckle that usually signals cynicism. “Other people speak positively about Africa. Sometimes it’s Africans themselves who are negative; who feel Africa is in trouble.”

Tag: ANC

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