Sixty two years ago, on August 9, 20,000 women of all races, classes and creed marched, singing and chanting, babies on their backs, to the Union Buildings in Pretoria, South Africa’s capital city, to deliver a petition to then Prime Minister J.G Strydom against the introduction of the apartheid pass laws.
This meant black women were not allowed in urban areas for more than 72 hours unless they possessed a pass with the holder’s details, including payment of taxes and permission to be in these urban areas. The march was led by the struggle stalwarts: Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph, Albertina Sisulu, Sophia Williams-De Bruyn and Rahima Moosa.
“I didn’t see much of Helen Joseph at the march, she was in front of the crowd. She was a big strong woman and she led the march with other strong women. They told us that women are holding passes and if we don’t demonstrate against [the government], we [too will one day end up] holding these passes,” recollects Ramnie Naidoo to FORBES AFRICA. She was only was 14 years old at the time, escorting her mother at the march.
Pictured here is Helen Joseph (1905-1992), founding member of the Federation of South African Women, and Rahima Moosa (1922-1993), union activist and member of the Transvaal Indian Congress, both co-leaders of the 1956 Women’s March.
They have been immortalized in the Long March To Freedom, a procession of 100 life-sized bronzes celebrating the pioneers of South Africa’s journey to democracy, at the Fountains Recreation Resort in the City of Tshwane, Gauteng, South Africa.

Womens-march-470

Celebrating Women With Monumental Strength

It was the best of times. It was a time when anything seemed possible; a time when hope blew through the tall blue gum trees like the gentle autumn breeze that wafted us along the road. We were on our way to a military base – a place where you don’t usually look for silver linings. Maybe we were just younger and the world looked better.
It was April 1994 and behind the barbed wire and automatic weapons of this army base in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe, there was a story that could have gladdened the heart of anyone sick of war. At this camp one of the symbolic last rites were going to be said over one of the nastier running wars of sub-Saharan Africa – or was that nastier running sores? At last, the days of surveillance, killings, and torture were over.
By the end of this day, former foes would swap stories of war over a cold beer in a new, unified, South African army; a few days later, on April 27, these soldiers would help make history. They were at polling stations as millions of South Africans lined up across the country to vote in the first delicate democratic elections that would bury nearly 350 years of minority rule.
Hope was in abundance in those crazy days in Harare. It had been the home for many political exiles from South Africa for decades. Furthermore, it seemed to be the last stop-off point for returning exiles in their sneakers and baseball caps.
“I’m going home to run my country,” they would say, in the bars of Harare, in accents more Los Angeles than Langlaagte. Most were well educated and well versed; but I always noticed a little uncertainty in their faces when they spoke of a country many had never seen.
It all seemed so fresh then. The chance of a new start for one of the most tormented countries in Africa; a bountiful country about to throw off the shackles of sanctions and reap the rewards of an avalanche of post-apartheid investment – the rainbow nation in waiting.
This gathering at the army base in Harare paved the way for the historic elections. Soldiers of Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) – the military wing of the African National Congress and APLA, the army of the Pan Africanist Congress – were preparing for election duty. It was likely to be difficult and dangerous task – as the soldiers drilled in Harare, bombs were going off in Johannesburg. Armed groups of all creeds and colors threatened to hurl South Africa into a civil war. The elections threatened to be a bloodbath.
Many thought it was too late to train troops for an election days away. That is what I asked the then head of MK, Siphiwe Nyanda, who was to become head of the new South African army and later a cabinet minister.
“We will be ready,” he smiled.
In the ranks on that day were a number of white South African troops who were going to have to fall in, in the new army, with black guerrilla fighters they once had been paid to kill.
“As long as they can reject their racism, we can work together,” said one of the battle-hardened guerrillas of his new white comrades.
Then there was the training. Military instructors spent hours instructing the former guerrillas how to thwart the very incursions and bombings that they had been carrying out for decades. Everyone was enthusiastic with one eye on a brighter future as poachers enthusiastically turned gamekeepers.
As the last beers were drained in the golden sunset and the troops climbed onto the back of trucks there was a feeling of camaraderie; almost an end-of-term levity about it. Former foes were to become the midwives of a new democracy.
Days later, we watched the pictures of millions casting their votes for the first time. The soldiers, trained in Harare, were vigilant; it is one of the small miracles of Africa that there was no violence as votes were cast.
On May 10, we watched again as helicopters carrying the new South African flag flew low over the Union Buildings in Pretoria to the cheers of thousands.
“Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another and suffer the indignity of being the skunk of the world,” Nelson Mandela said to the world.
As we all watched with broad smiles, Norman Mahaja, our sound recordist on the Harare military base story, brought us crashing down to earth.
“I want to go down south and earn the rand now,” he said.
“Why?”
“Before it becomes like the Zimbabwe dollar.”

Guerrillas Turned Gamekeepers On A Day Of Hope

Last month I suggested that the South African government is unsure of which route to follow to find a shared strategy with the private sector to deal with the infrastructure backlog preventing the region’s progress.
Has the ruthless march towards recession, higher unemployment, coupled with the prospect of credit ratings downgrades and potential changes in voter sentiment, finally struck home?
Finance Minister Pravin Gordhan’s recent bellwether meeting with 60 CEOs reminds me of the Union Buildings meeting I attended after South Africa successfully hosted the 2010 World Cup. The President and most of the Cabinet met with business in high spirits to reinforce the need to harness the collaborative momentum that had delivered so well.
Will the economic crisis that has followed the inaction and ineptitude after that euphoric session finally galvanize government and business into action?
Economic revival will not be achieved without massive investment in infrastructure and it cannot be delivered effectively without collaboration between the public and private sectors at the highest level.
In many countries there is a close relationship between the government, the national agenda and the construction industry. Many have transparent cross shareholding and collective arrangements that make for quicker infrastructure expansion.
The key is harnessing private sector funding for public infrastructure through commercially viable PPPs and concessionary projects, where each party takes a share in the risk for reward. This relieves the fiscus of having to fund everything and can then direct scarce public funds towards infrastructure that will attract industrial investment and drive long-term economic growth.
My previous company has decades of experience with this in Africa and Eastern Europe, but political ideology in South Africa has bedeviled this opportunity.
After 2010, we had numerous discussions with Brazilian groups and learned of this collective mindset in Brazil ahead of their 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics programs.
France has a deep collaboration between government and construction. The United States infrastructure is now undergoing massive rebuilding, with a strong private sector participation in both funding and implementation.
Likewise for overseas work, our competitors come into our region with robust political and financial backing from their governments.
The French approach to business is founded upon national interest and long-term foreign relationships, which was evident in recent years with the prospects for a fleet of nuclear power plants for South Africa. For several years, I participated in the developing French strategy for this work that encompassed major technology groups, their suppliers looking to localize in South Africa, the French national power utility and their government representatives.
Likewise, the Russians and South Koreans have strongly developed public/private trade institutions and strategies and have engaged with targeted partnerships with local companies. The success of South Korean business in our market is remarkable. The Russians are now firm contenders for nuclear power.
In stark contrast, in my experience in working across Africa and the Middle East, South African business generally feels alone and has to fend for itself internationally.
South Africa’s tax-payer funded development finance institutions have been known to fund projects in other African countries without involving any South African content. Most competitor nations would have contractual requirements that their funding has a high content from the lending nation.
This further diminishes South Africa’ growth prospects, the tax base and the desired employment and regional cooperation. The lack of support, and the time lost, is eroding the commitment to South Africa as the bigger companies shed local jobs and continue to shift to new international markets.
The construction industry has been through hell but it’s ready to make a difference. To do this it needs a champion in government, that has until now been absent.
The industry has tabled robust investments and long-term plans that include significant additional training and skills program. It has also offered to assist distressed municipalities and undertake social projects.
There is also a suite of execution strategies that will deliver on the commitment to collaborate with, mentor and jointly execute large projects with black-owned business to ensure the next generation of large construction companies are created from a solid experience base.
Perhaps out of adversity, the need for radical change in ideology and policy from government and for business to deliver more jobs, demographic and economic transformation and black industrialization, Gordhan’s new approach will find traction.
The engineering and construction industry in this country cannot wait much longer.

Collaborate Or Else

Every year, South Africa celebrates Women’s Month in August, commemorating the 1956 protest against pass laws that saw 20,000 women march to the grounds of the Union Buildings in the country’s capital Pretoria.
In the run-up to Women’s Month, it was fitting that the African Union (AU) summit in June was held in Johannesburg around the theme, ‘Women’s Empowerment and Development Towards Africa’s Agenda 2063’. The AU has declared 2015 as the year of women’s empowerment.
At the opening ceremony of the summit, Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe and current Chairperson of the AU, lauded the African woman.
“Whenever I think of the virtues and the indomitable spirit that epitomizes the African woman, I am reminded of the heroines across the African continent who stood up against the forces of colonialism and occupation,” he said.
In an exclusive interview with FORBES WOMAN AFRICA after the summit, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, the first female chairperson of the AU Commission, also a former South African home affairs minister, spoke about a new campaign.  She wants to replace the hoe (implement used in agriculture) with a motorized tiller.
“The women on this continent are unique in many ways. They really are the drivers of communities, of families, they are the curators of our culture… During our consultations to put together Agenda 2063 [a 50-year vision for Africa] and especially the first 10-year plan, we were told by women farmers that Agenda 2063 will mean nothing to them if they have to continue using the hoe. And it threw a big challenge to us; the more we looked at how women worked with the hoe, we realized it is actually like a symbol of poverty and symbol of submission too. We thought ‘they are right, how have we let it go for so long?’&#8230; So we decided to start this campaign to drive the hoe away, into the museum really, until there is no woman forced to use it.”
At the summit, the AU handed out tillers to each of the 54 African countries present “just to show it can be done”.
“But we think it will actually bring a different dynamic to agriculture because young people were not willing to go into agriculture. But once they see it is technology they can use, and they can use working upright, standing tall and proud, I think the tillers will restore the dignity of African women and change the image of African women farmers,” says Dlamini-Zuma.
Next on the cards for the AU is developing Africa’s blue economy. Dlamini-Zuma says water is a hugely ignored resource.
“Africa has actually neglected the fact that it’s almost like a big island with smaller islands – 32 of the 54 countries are either coastal or island states. We need to now develop the blue economy as part of the broader economy. We have developed the first maritime strategy.”
On July 25, in Addis Ababa, the AU launched the 2015-2025 Decade of African Seas and Oceans. Plans are on to build capacity and impart training in this sector.
“We want to look at maritime transport and see if it can have shipping vessels that fly African flags from African countries, and [in] time, see that the people employed are also from Africa. Because we are a continent with lots of young people, this is the one industry we can open and create jobs for our young people over the next 10 years, besides the revenue it can bring. We are also looking at aquaculture that can create jobs and food for the continent, but from the onset, we want to look at the environment and make sure we keep our oceans clean as we try and develop the industry.”
Tourism, both coastal and floating (cruise liners), will also be a big component of the blue economy.

The Woman To Put  Poverty Into Museums

At the well-attended launch of her book Good Morning, Mr Mandela in Johannesburg in June, Zelda la Grange, Nelson Mandela’s trusted aide who he called ‘Zeldina’, was introduced “as the person who walked in the same steps as one of the greatest legends”. Archbishop Desmond Tutu said in a televized message on the occasion: “Your utter devotion to Madiba was so obvious to anyone…In many ways, it was a symbol of hope for the new relationships in our country.”
La Grange says ‘Khulu’ (grandfather) or Madiba always knew she would write a book. The Afrikaner, who was brought up in apartheid South Africa, started as a typist in the office of the first democratically elected South African President in 1994 at the age of 23, going on to work with Mandela in various capacities for 19 years. She started penning down her thoughts in 2009, “not for the purpose of it becoming a book, but to offload memories”.
“It’s a personal memoir and I want people to read the book and be inspired by my change,” said la Grange, ahead of the launch, when we caught up with her for more:
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Can you describe your first meeting with
Madiba in 1994 at the Union Buildings?
I bumped into him, he extended his hand and I said ‘Good morning, Mr Mandela’. That was the turning point of my life.
He broke all my defenses. I was brought up to believe this person is my enemy, and when he spoke to me in Afrikaans, I felt guilty and started crying. I felt responsible, that my people and I were brought up to believe that he is the enemy. And yet you can see the sincerity on his face, his smile; and [I was thinking] why was I so afraid of him. It was in complete contrast to what I expected and I cried. He told me at that first meeting I was overreacting.
Did you draw any criticism in the early years when working for him?
At first, there was a lot of criticism within his own political circles, about why he chose a white woman. He was very careful to relate that story to me at first, knowing I was sensitive and after a while, he would joke about it. He would repeat the entire conversation and say: “Can you believe they would say this?”
It also provided people with entertainment. Madiba’s and my sense of humor had a strange similarity; so we would joke about even these things. He was always looking for humor in any situation. There is nothing laughable about being in prison for 27 years, but he was always trying to find the lighter side of things.
Did he ever get angry?
He had vices and virtues like everyone else. He was a very determined, almost hotheaded person. You couldn’t sway him once he decided something. You knew not to mess with him when he was angry. [But] Madiba didn’t hold grudges, he would get over something very quickly but you would know exactly how he felt. If you look at the CODESA negotiations, he was really angry at F.W. de Klerk at some point – the photographers managed to capture his body language beautifully. He managed to change the narrative. He always had this mindset of reconciliation, of unity, and there was a strategy behind whatever he did.
How was the transition once he retired from the Presidency?
The morning after his retirement was quite a wakeup call. We thought we would pretty much have access to state resources, and we could rely on certain things from the government, but any retiring head of state is in for a full surprise. We had no media protocol, no foreign affairs – all of that was gone.
You have traveled widely with him. Any memories?
I am reminded of our visit to Iran, during President Khatami’s presidency. In the book, you will see how important women’s empowerment is for Madiba. He insisted on me going to the palace where women are not allowed. So we went to dinner at the President’s residence, and there were only male bodyguards and security. I was fighting off photographers, as Madiba’s eyes were sensitive to flashlights. I tried staying in the back so not to offend anybody with my presence. It was very noticeable I was the only female there. A butler then sent for me, and Madiba said, “Oh Zeldina, the President wants to have supper with you.” The whole time, the President asked about South Africa, and Madiba would not answer; so I had to speak. I was put on the spot.
Did you get to spend enough time with him in the final years?
The later years, from 2008, when he started slowing down, he stopped all public appearances and meetings. There was no business any longer to discuss. I tried to go once a week to Qunu [to meet him], more on a personal basis.
How did you come to terms with his passing?
Those ten days of the funeral, I will never want to relive again. You have to deal with the outpouring of emotions from the outside world, and you don’t have time to deal with your own emotions. I still find myself thinking, has it really happened, is he really not there anymore? I have never lost anyone close to me. I am very fortunate. Both my parents are still alive. This is a very new experience for me.
Are you still in touch with
Graça Machel?
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I am very close to her. She is true to her name; she epitomizes grace and strength and has been an emotional stronghold for all of us, through his illness. She was not there only for Madiba, but for us as well.
What kind of work are you
involved in now?
I am still contracted with the Nelson Mandela Foundation; at present [I take part in] leadership courses for the foundation, and I do a bit of motivational speaking, just telling people my story and conveying the lessons I have learnt.
Did you ever think you put your life on hold?
I think I have gained so much, and have been so exceptionally privileged that I wouldn’t say I put my life on hold really. It evolved into something greater. My working hours were nonstop. When Madiba was President, he would call at 2AM and say, can you get hold of Minister Trevor Manuel? I didn’t go for a movie for 10 years. I was too scared he would call and I wouldn’t be able to help him.
You were very special to him?
It would be incorrect to say I was the only one, or the special one. There were other people who played vital roles in his life. My role was confined to his public life, so people need to see it in the context of my duties.

How Madiba Changed Me

It was like re-living a moment in South African history, going back 58 years with Sophia Williams-De Bruyn, to the place where it all began.
We are outside the Union Buildings in the South African capital Pretoria, and De Bruyn is wearing a dark coat and shades on a cold winter morning.
She was hardly 18 when as one of four women leaders, she marched 20,000 other women to the Union Buildings on August 9, 1956.
Today, she is an elegant, demure grandmother, and the last living member of the famous four who led the protest, the others being Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph and Rahima Moosa.
It has not been an easy journey, and this particular moment stokes many memories of that historic day.
“I had no fear,” she said, as we made our way to Pretoria.
The women had decided that they did not need, or want, passbooks (special identification booklets that limited their freedom of movement) as black or colored women. And as she delivered their angst in a letter to the Prime Minister JG Strijdom, a major supporter of the apartheid government, on that chilly August day, De Bruyn and her comrades set the precedent for Women’s Day in South Africa.
&nbsp;
<div id="attachment_6391" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-6391" class="size-medium wp-image-6391" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Sophia-de-Bruyn_Womans-March-300x217.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="217" />The 50th anniversary of the march in 2006.</div>
The 1950s were a tumultuous time in South Africa. Mass meetings were often met with violence by authorities. And political organizations, designed to fight the system, were separated by race. The rule of law, which accorded non-white South Africans the status of second class citizens in their own country, was at its worst.
This was why the Women’s March was the ultimate act of defiance.
It was unheard of in those days for any woman, let alone colored women, to stroll around the Union Buildings, the seat of South African government. For De Bruyn, the buildings housed more than the men responsible for deciding their fate. To her, they were the “Holy Grail”.
And after surviving the travails of getting the women to Pretoria, she was unafraid of any consequences.
The women had journeyed far and raised a fortune to make the march. De Bruyn’s group arrived from the Eastern Cape in two coaches. They sold tea and scones at political meetings for a profit of three pence, and a shilling was earned from serving chicken stew and rice. These little enterprises raised enough to make the long trip north.
Originally, the women had intended to camp outside the Union Buildings for an entire week. But the logistics of that plan were too difficult to follow through. Instead, they organized within their splinter groups and made their way, separately, towards Pretoria. When she saw the women that day, De Bruyn says she was gratified.
“The glory of how they looked, and their dignity and grace, and that determination in lifting their feet in a place where no other African person had done before,” she says.
The women came in droves and that surprised De Bruyn. There were women of every race at the march and she remembers the splendor of that scene.
“It was a splendid day, [there were] women in all sorts of dress – Indian women wore saris, the African National Congress [ANC] women in their green, black and gold and others in their everyday wear.”
She didn’t realize how many they were until she “sat and looked back at them, in their thousands”.
After the march, De Bruyn committed herself further to the freedom struggle. As the 1960s ended, she joined her late husband, Henry De Bruyn, who was exiled in Zambia. While in Lusaka, she took evening classes and studied for her O level certificate exams. Three years later, she moved to Nairobi and earned a diploma in education. The De Bruyns did not return to South Africa until the early 1990s to a short-lived return. Soon after the ANC came to power in 1994, she moved with her husband to Jordan as the first South African diplomats there.
Even when in exile, De Bruyn concerned herself with the freedom of the South African women she left behind. She spearheaded the ANC’s Women’s League in Lusaka and, with the help of then ANC president, O.R. Tambo, forged a place for women in the party. But her concerns have shifted, over the years, to the freedom of younger African women.
“I think our young women have got it in them. Today, the things that are there for them weren’t there for us. What gives me a sense of gratitude is to see our young women and what they can do.”
When speaking about the 1956 march, De Bruyn is humble about her role in the protest. She insists that it was an “event of women” in South Africa’s history and not her own. Yet the memory and the triumph of that August day still drive her.
“It lives on in my psyche,” she says, taking a long, hard look at the Union Buildings.

Tag: Union Buildings

FORBES AFRICA SOCIAL MEDIA

Celebrating Women With Monumental Strength

Guerrillas Turned Gamekeepers On A Day Of Hope

Collaborate Or Else

The Woman To Put Poverty Into Museums

How Madiba Changed Me

LOOKING BACK At A Landmark Day