"‘COMRADES!’ he cried. ‘You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us actually dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary to the wellbeing of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for your sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you know what would happen if we pigs failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Surely, comrades,’ cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, ‘surely there is no one among you who wants to see Jones come back?’" — (Squealer, Animal Farm, George Orwell)
In May 2006, about 70 villages in Kwanxamalala, home to President Jacob Zuma’s private residence in Nkandla, gathered to pray for ancestral wisdom and a verdict of not guilty in a rape trial centred around their most famous resident.
Throughout the course of the proceedings, impepho was burnt. It is a traditional herb, used to connect with those on the other side of the mortal curtain and flush out evil. Earlier, in March, 15 cattle had been slaughtered in a similar attempt to win favour with the ancestors. Zuma was cursed, some said. "Elders believe he needs to slaughter a cow to pay homage to his father," a family member explained. Fifteen would no doubt ensure Zuma had his father’s full attention.
And the smoke and bloodshed worked. The ancestors listened. At 3pm on May 8, Zuma was acquitted and Nkandla erupted in celebration. There were screams of jubilation as many, watching on television, let free their collective breath. Bhelekazi Zuma, the president’s second wife, said soon afterwards the family would meet to conduct a traditional cleansing ceremony. "To us as a family this victory definitely calls for a traditional ceremony," said Zuma’s brother, Michael, "to thank the ancestors for delivering him from this trap."
Evil was vanquished, and every dusty corner in which it had festered was to be swept clean. Nkandla was pure again.
Pure but impoverished. Back then every story on Nkandla would describe first the deprivation. Potholes, dirt roads, shacks and makeshift schools, limited access to water and electricity, people barefoot and lulled into hopelessness by the bleakness of it all, drifting around aimlessly. The harshness hit you like a sledgehammer. Not so much a village as a symbol of rural poverty. Overlooking it all — an unassuming cluster of thatched rondavels on the top of a hill.
Nkandla had been Zuma’s refuge throughout the trial and he would regularly return there while the justice system slowly ground forward. Now this simple home was no longer a fort under siege but a palace to be visited, and the king had returned. With the verdict of not guilty, the herd boy and president in waiting would be welcomed home. In turn, that night his home would welcome those loyal to him, as freedom was honoured and political allegiance rewarded at the remote, rural homestead. Many came to worship.
At least a 1,000 people descended on Nkandla that night. A huge white marquee was set up. Festivities went on late into the morning. "The Jacob Zuma you know today," said Zuma in a thank you speech, "was formed by what I learnt here as a child. It was here in Nkandla I learnt about respect."
And so there followed a brief age of innocence. Between Zuma’s rape trial and his election as ANC president in December 2007, Nkandla would be repeatedly romanticised by the press, as the humble home of a man of the people. The area would be described again and again as the impoverished backdrop to a pretender to the throne. "Yet despite the ubiquitous and palpable poverty," wrote one commentator on visiting the area, "the villagers’ spirit of ubuntu came shining through in their readiness to share the little they had." Nkandla was not just poor, but magically poor. South Africa’s own Bethlehem inn. And, in Zuma, the star that burned bright in the east. Hope sprung eternal.
"The amaXhosa told us since we didn’t vote ANC we are not going to get any help here. We like Zuma because he is like Jesus, he has been working hard for the freedom of the people for a long time. The indunas, the councillors, they don’t deliver, but if Zuma became president then maybe he will do something for this area," said one resident in 2006.
It was a metaphor Zuma happily indulged. He would tell biographer Jeremy Gordin in November 2007, "This is where I regenerate and reconnect. This is where I come back to myself. This is a particularly Zulu environment and yet this is where I become a South African. If I become too high-flying, this is the place that puts me back on my feet." But, Gordin would write, for all that ostensible modesty, Zuma at home was "a veritable pater familias" and a "seemingly endless river of people" waited to hold court with the man. Nkandla might well have been where Zuma’s roots were firmest, but the tree that had grown from them covered the entire village in its shade. And it was kept well watered with deference and obsequiousness alike.
If the Union Buildings were the place a traditional Zuma would later be restrained to show constitutional respect, Nkandla was the kingdom where traditional respect would be laid at his feet — the unofficial chiefdomship over which he held significant sway.
With his election as ANC president, his unofficial influence grew. And, with that, the river of ordinary people that ran to his doorstep became a torrent of status and high public office holders, as wise men and laymen followed the star to rural KwaZulu-Natal. And it burned especially bright in December 2007.
Every year, for the past ten years, Zuma had held a Christmas party at Nkandla. The patriarch would provide for his flock. But that year, it took on a different feel.
"The new ANC leadership — a who’s who of people you’re likely to see at Thabo Mbeki’s Christmas party — showed up at Jacob Zuma’s rural Nkandla residence on Friday, ostensibly to attend a children’s Christmas party," the Sunday Independent wrote on December 30 2007, "but it was also apparent the politically ambitious felt it was important to come and show their allegiance to the new king."
They gushed with gratuitous praise.
"Can you imagine the difference that we could make in the lives of our people if every ANC leader did this kind of thing in their own area?" asked Mcebisi Skwatsha, as he fawned over the president’s magnanimity. Tony Yengeni was spotted in and among the guests. Once lost, he too was now found.
Elsewhere, Ace Magashule, Sdumo Dlamini, Bathabile Dlamini, Meshack Radebe and Mike Sutcliffe found time in December to travel far into the province for Christmas.
The Mail & Guardian later dubbed Nyanda "the minister of luxury", as he lived life large in a series of lavish hotels that, together with a range of other controversies, saw him fired in 2010. Today he serves as Zuma’s parliamentary councillor.
Thousands of children attended the Zuma Christmas party that day. Many received gifts. Many were happy, it was reported, just to shake Zuma’s hand and have a photo with him. No doubt, many adults too. Zuma flew a little higher.
In January 2008, Nkandla would host a wedding. Zuma was to marry Nompumelelo Ntuli, his fourth wife. Zuma paid 11 cows in lobola and wore traditional regalia with a pair of Reebok sneakers. The Sunday Independent reported that "the ceremony was soured by the strict barring of journalists, and venomous threats and insults were thrown their way by Zuma’s bodyguards…". Green security gates were set up and local police sealed off a huge white marquee. Nkandla became a fort for a day. Vivian Reddy, a friend of Zuma called to testify in the Schabir Shaik trail, said he had not contributed to funding the wedding, "Zuma has money from his pension fund. Ours is a pure friendship, not one based on a monetary relationship."
Furniture, blankets and clothes were exchanged in a ritual called umabo. Zuma led Zulu warriors in song — Wawuyaphi ungaphethe isibhamu? (Where are you going without a gun?) Where indeed?
"Being an ANC president but having a traditional wedding — he is showing us that even if you can be up there you must not forget your roots," said a local resident. Life in Nkandla quietly unfolded, only occasionally would the gradual concentration of power in the area be evident.
In a small story in August 2008, it was reported in the Natal Witness that the Nkandla police station had been purged, with every member being deployed elsewhere. "From time to time we check levels of performance in our stations and we found that Nkandla SAPS did not fulfill objectives in terms of service delivery and principles of Batho Pele as set by the province," said SAPS provincial spokesperson Phindile Hadebe.
And, by the time December 2008 rolled round, and with it Zuma’s annual Christmas bash, his private generosity had been fully conflated with his public duties. "Today is not just Christmas for the kids but for the adults too," he said, as he revealed a new R13.5m multipurpose centre for the community, "We did this to bring service to the people."
But it would be the 2009 election, and Zuma’s election as president of the Republic, that Nkandla’s transformation from rural backwater to the unofficial seat of power would be complete. Zuma was now flying at an altitude from which he could see all. With that, any pretence that Nkandla was but a mere helpful metaphor, able to assist in painting the homely picture of a president well-grounded, abruptly ended. The metaphor itself was destined to become the story. But not before a little fun was had.
In attendance, everyone: Patrice Motsepe (it is remarkable where this man turns up; he was at Mandela’s bedside when he died, the Sunday Times reported), Irvin Khosa, Vivian Reddy, Jeff Radebe, Roy Padayachee, Bheki Cele, ministers, MECs, mayors, councillors, all travelled far for this unofficial coronation.
Gospel and maskandi music played. Hlengiwe Mhlaba, Deborah Fraser, Avante, Phuz’ekhemisi and Bhekumuzi Luthuli all provided their musical services. Funded in part by "business people close to Zuma", according to the Sunday Times, "an air-conditioned dining area, boasting peach roses, crystal glasses and silverware was reserved for VIPs. The buffet lunch comprised pasta, lamb curry, chicken stew, fried chicken, roast lamb and grilled fish. Dessert was crème caramel and trifle."
Other guests would eat the boiled meat of 19 cattle contributed by the community.
"Some of the lessons I learnt from the village and its people could not be obtained from any university," said Zuma, "they taught me to respect, to listen and to be humble myself."
In December 2013, General Vijay Ramlakan, the retired surgeon-general who represented the defence force, would explain to the country on national television why it was the state had paid more than R200m to upgrade, among other things, a chicken run, cattle kraal, football fields, tuck shops, air conditioning, and amphitheatre and swimming pool, all in the name of security.
And the man of the people? According to Minister of Public Works Thulas Nxesi, the neighbouring families living near Zuma had to be relocated because they were "identified as a security risk".
- BDLive
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