Matshepo Seedat
Africa-Press – South-Africa. When news broke that the former deputy president had passed away, I immediately remembered the inhumane moment a few years ago when fake news spread about his supposed death.
When his recent death was confirmed, it felt like hearing of the loss of a dear elder, someone you hadn’t seen in some time but who had shaped a part of your world. Someone whose absence feels like a sudden silence in a room you didn’t know he filled until he was gone. It was more than a headline. It was devastating.
For four years I worked in the office of the former deputy president, serving in capacities including acting spokesperson. I cannot claim to have been close to him as he was a private man, but I got to know and appreciate his leadership.
Mabuza was never one for theatrics. Instead, he chose to focus on the difficult work, often far from cameras. When he did speak to the media, it would be because we put a compelling case before him.
This was evinced in his handling of the water and electricity crisis in Maluti-a-Phofung municipality and the diplomacy he pursued in 2019 and 2020 to help restore the revitalised agreement on the resolution of the conflict in South Sudan, which led to the inauguration of the country’s vice-presidents in a transitional government of national unity.
His approach was always the same: listen, observe and respond with care and clarity. He walked the journey with those involved, asking hard questions and paving a way for consensus.
As chairperson of the inter ministerial committee on Covid-19 vaccines, he was instrumental in the campaign to encourage the nation to be vaccinated. He explained the importance of building immunity against the deadly virus in ways everyone could understand.
As the chairperson of the SA National Aids Council, at plenary, I once witnessed him put aside a prepared speech to focus his entire off-cuff remarks on the plight of the girl child. He recognised the best way to rid our society of patriarchy is to socialise girls and boys equally.
In the South African context, it is unusual to call a man a feminist, but I say Mabuza was a feminist because he worked for the equality of women. He detested the oppression of women in the guise of cultural practices and firmly believed a society that undermines women’s aspirations can have no peace and no development.
He took this idea to South Sudan during the state and border negotiations. He began by reminding the parties involved that women’s involvement in building the state would spur development. His leadership was rooted in empathy.
One memory I hold close is when, during my tenure as spokesperson, certain elements within the office sought to have me removed. It is common knowledge that in political offices, people clamour for attention and proximity to the political leader, which breeds envy for those who hold positions considered close to the principal, mainly chief of staff, personal assistant and spokesperson.
Names of replacements were brought to his attention, and when he didn’t act on them, a smear campaign and conspiracies followed. But he never wavered. He simply allowed my work to speak for itself and refused to be complicit in what was clearly a misogynistic project. For this, I will forever be grateful.
In the process, I moved from fearing him because of the things the media said he was, to respecting and admiring him because of what I came to personally know of him. Most of the time, when he was deputy president, there would be stories the media would pursue, most of which were false. At no point was he ever disappointed that we misrepresented him. He trusted that we always acted in the best interest of his office and person. He trusted his core team, expected results and demanded integrity, yet he never micromanaged.
In the three years I headed communication, he gave me a direct instruction only once. That single moment of guidance set the tone for the years that followed. He understood the value of placing capable people in roles and allowing them to lead. Mostly, he believed in our constitutional democracy and always reminded us to place the constitution as the basis of our work. As a result, I always carried a copy of the constitution in my handbag because I could be asked to refer to it at any time. Under Mabuza’s leadership, I was allowed for the first time in my long government communication career to write and publish opinion pieces in my name.
He allowed me a voice and I used it to defend the truth as I knew it. I learnt that before he became a political figure, Mabuza was a mathematics teacher and later a school principal. Though his title changed over the years from teacher to political leader, he never stopped being a teacher. This was perhaps his most consistent identity. You could see it in how he approached problems methodically, with precision, but also with patience. He believed, as good teachers do, that change must be rooted in understanding. Even as deputy president, he remained a patient teacher through words and actions.
He taught me to appreciate the wisdom of restraint. He understood the power of absence and that sometimes not being visible was the most effective way to lead. I came to value the 48 laws of power, particularly the idea that absence can increase honour and respect.
Many assumed he was missing in action, but those paying attention knew he was present exactly where he was needed, and always at the most critical stage. He led from behind, beside and sometimes ahead, but never for show. The former deputy president’s passing is a reminder that true leadership often happens in the shadows. His legacy lives on, not only in the formal record of his offices but in the lives he touched, the cohesive teams he built and the dignity he extended to those he worked with.
Rest well, honourable [former] deputy president, Mshengu, Ludvonga la Mavuso. The classrooms you left behind were not only in schools, but in struggle, in service and in government. And in all those rooms you taught us well.
Source: TimesLIVE
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