Former deputy president, David Mabuza, fondly referred to as DD is no more
Image: File image
The former deputy president, David Mabuza, fondly referred to as DD is no more. A man who mysteriously rose to be a deputy president was supported by evidence. But even the then Statistician-General (SG) nor the current SG saw it coming. Perhaps like Malvollio in the Twelfth Night held true that rise to power has a universe of triggers, which includes the odd and unexpected.
Once smelling power Malvollio would say, "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them". Truth be told DD might have moved up through the cracks by mantra of illusive unity and this might be the way the cat arranged its cheese.
But by 2016 October the current SG and I when I was still the SG went to the provincial government. On the agenda was the release of the 2016 Community Survey. Premier Mabuza invited us to his office where to our surprise we held court for an hour. We did not discuss the numbers and instead he discussed his plans. He repeatedly said, "I am not coming back. I am done with province." So finally he set us free to go and present.
So as we had this private space with Risenga Maluleke we giggled like small boys wondering in which ministry DD could deputise. In our estimation the man could not even be a minister and he could only deputise. So we looked around and we thought he could be in education.
But truth be told as we discussed on reflection from the numbers David Mabuza was a deserving deputy president. The numbers stacked favourably. I even went to write in one of my columns that indeed evidence favoured him.
The results of the Community Survey showed that it was only in his province of Mpumalanga and at the level of City of Cape Town that the performance was positive on all indicators and in fact on poverty Mpumalanga and City of Cape Town were showing positive outcomes whilst the rest were sluggards worthy of the remarks of the then minister of sports when he referred to Banana-Bafana as a bunch of losers. Using such an objective measure DD was deserving after all.
But given the oddity of the logic of politics, it was exactly when Auntie De Lille, the then mayor of the City of Cape Town, had her fate of separation sealed despite the good track record as mayor of Cape Town and she fell out with Zille. Not surprising again was when then president Thabo Mbeki, the only president who consistently achieved indicators of positive development.
These pointed to a different future, as South Africa danced with at least a 5% growth per year for six years. Gross fixed capital formation was at an unprecedented 25% per annum, a far cry from a single digit we have experienced in the past 17 years, and unemployment dropping from a high of 30%, to a still high 22%, which has not been achieved in the past ten years.
Credit extension growth was 15% per annum, a rate unheard of in the last 17 years. All municipalities were experiencing monotonically declining poverty compared to a third increase in poverty in the last 15 years and possibly counting. Yet it was in the face of that evidence that the question of "uhamba nini lo zizi" was asked, and the chorus at that fateful NEC was khonaNgogo. The uhamba nini has become our unfortunate moment as irate politics govern over rationality.
Perhaps if our decisions were based on national objectives as the prime motive forces, we would see better results and a country on the ascent. DD's mask of unity to ascendancy needed not to be what made the cat sneak through in the NDZ 17 and CR2017. His performance in the province, as the only ANC governed province to continue witnessing a decline in poverty, should have been the reason for his ascendance to high office. And perhaps the unity aerodynamics could have added the emotive noise that necessarily accompanies the queer logic of political settings.
Evidence of delivery showed he was a clear winner, but the cat needed the additional invisible lives to survive and be an unexpected deputy president. Perhaps if we were guided by performance we would not see a South Africa of two halves. One of ascendant quality of live for ordinary citizens from Mandela to Mbeki's 15 years and followed by monotonic decline from Zuma into Ramaphosa and counting. The cat did its unity footwork and became deputy president of the country.
But the cat delivered better quality of life to citizens of Mpumalanga so says the evidence. And DD was determined to leave the province. Hands clutched to each other, index fingers pointing in the sky following on his eyes starring upwards, a signature gesture of Mabuza, he told Maluleke and I in 2016 that he was not coming back to the province.
One term he said he was not coming back to presidency, and now he is not coming back and forever he is gone and belong to the ages. May his soul rest in peace. May his family be consoled. He served the people of Mpumalanga well and was exemplary in addressing poverty. The facts will remember him for that. What will the facts remember others for. This is what a forward looking and design thinking and systems design based national dialogue should do. Set rules of engagement on what we will hold each other's for.
Dr Pali Lehohla is a Professor of Practice at the University of Johannesburg, among other hats.
Image: Supplied
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Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Next Stay Close ✕ They are deeply personal, spiritual, and cultural spaces where families gather to mourn, to honour, and to begin the difficult process of healing. They are not political rallies. They are not campaign events. They are certainly not battlegrounds for factionalism. Yet, time and time again, we see public figures hijacking these occasions to make political statements, settle scores, and position themselves in the eyes of the media and the public. At Mabuza's funeral, while some tributes were sincere and reflective, others quickly turned into political narratives — about what he was not allowed to complete, or how he was treated in his final years by his political allies. These comments may have had merit in another setting, but a funeral was not the appropriate venue for them. One must ask: what does it say about us as a nation when we cannot set aside our political ambitions for even a day, to honour the dead with dignity? The family of the deceased often becomes the unintended victims in all of this. While dealing with unimaginable grief, they are forced to share space - and sometimes the entire narrative — with politicians who are more focused on the headlines they will make than the person who has passed. Their grief becomes sidelined in favour of grandstanding. This is not to suggest that political figures should not speak at the funerals of their comrades. On the contrary, many of these individuals have shared decades of struggle, camaraderie, and sacrifice. Their voices are valuable, even necessary. But the tone, intent, and content of those tributes must be respectful, non-partisan, and focused on the deceased, not on the politics of the day. We observed this imbalance at the funeral of ANC stalwart Jessie Duarte, where certain speeches devolved into critiques of the party's internal dynamics. Even at the memorial of struggle icon Andrew Mlangeni, what should have been a celebration of a remarkable life was overshadowed by undercurrents of political messaging aimed at rivals within the ruling party. These events speak to a broader issue within our political culture — a culture in which no space is off-limits to political messaging. Not even a funeral. 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