Tutu - Rabble Rouser for Peace

Archbishop Desmond Tutu & Keith Richardson

This is the title of a recent biography by John Allen for a man who was once labelled as South Africa’s ‘Public Enemy Number One’ - Archbishop Desmond Tutu. It was with anticipation of something worthy for our boys, that I wrote to him some five months ago asking him if he would be prepared to share some thoughts with the men of Wynberg.  He gave the audience of pupils, teachers and support staff, memories which they will remember for the rest of their lives.

‘I was brought up to believe that he was the devil incarnate,’ said Mike Engelbrecht, one of our House Heads during the lunch we had with him after the assembly. 'Now twenty five years later, I am privileged to sit next to him on stage.’

And, if the truth be told, he was also privileged to join the rest of the audience in giving him a standing ovation afterwards ...

Before school that morning, a very sceptical Siyabonga Beyile was in my office to discuss how he was going to thank the Archbishop. ‘Are you absolutely sure you are not having us on?’ he asked. ‘Are we really having the Archbishop to address our assembly?’

‘I was brought up by my parents on stories of Tutu, Mandela and Chris Hani,’ he said. ‘I never thought I would ever get to meet any of them. To me, meeting Tutu is like meeting Superman – he is the hero.’

Siyabonga was part of the reception committee at the entrance to the school for Superman. When he arrived to be greeted by a posse of cameras, Pat Rogers who runs our website, asked if she could take a photograph of him standing with me at the entrance to the school.

‘Well it is his reputation that is at stake,’ said Tutu, who then promptly dissolved into giggles as he stood next to me.

‘Sir,’ whispered Siyabonga to me as we walked to the hall. 'He arrived in a Toyota and had no bodyguards ...’

Are you listening, all you politicians out there?

There was a murmur through the hall when this remarkable man came on stage. All eyes were on Tutu who greeted and shook hands with the front row of the stage party. Head Prefect, Nick Martin, went blood-red as one of South Africa’s icons proffered him his hand. I bet Nick’s palms were sweaty!

The school’s African Choir came on stage and sang two songs for the Archbishop:  Phind’ukhulume (‘Talk to me, Lord) and Ndikhokhele Bawo (Lead me, Lord). They sang magnificently and Wandisele Ngeyi, their singing coach, gave a loud and appreciative ‘yes!’ when they finished which evoked a laugh from the audience.

Archbishop Tutu addresses Wynberg Boys' High School

Spu Mnikina had been given the honour of introducing him to the school. He started off by saying that this Nobel Laureate needed no introduction as this man was the holder of hundreds of accolades and honours from many cities, churches and educational institutions around the world.  At his retirement, he was described by President Mandela as a true South African who had made an ‘immeasurable contribution to our nation’.

Spu finished off his introduction by quoting a comment, once said by the Archbishop,  which he thought epitomised the great man: ‘If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor’.

When he stood up to speak, Tutu gently admonished Spu. ‘You must never say that someone needs no introduction,’ he said. ‘Once I was in New York receiving an international award and a lady came gushing up to me. 'I am so pleased finally to meet you, Archbishop Mandela!’

That is what you call getting two for the price of one ...

The theme of his talk – given without notes – was that the youth must take up the challenge. He told his audience that Africa was the birthplace of humankind. It was time that the Youth of Africa stood up again realising that they had a role to play in the development of the next stage of civilisation. He quoted innumerable instances from the Bible where young men by their actions and by their courage had made a real difference to their societies. ‘I am an old man,’ he said, ‘I dream of a world where there is peace. I dream of a world where all are members of one family and one race – the human race.’

‘I challenge you young people at Rondebosch ...,’ he said. The school was far too polite to say anything but the stunned silence and the looks on the audience’s faces caused him to glance at me and quickly say, ’Wynberg, I meant Wynberg.’ Realising what he had done, he put his head back and roared with laughter. It was a laugh which we had all become accustomed to know well over the years. It rose from the belly - rich and infectious. The school laughed with him. He was quickly forgiven.

A few days later he was at the Baxter Theatre for the ‘Funny Festival’ with some of South Africa’s greatest comedians. He was invited on to the stage and told the audience that he had a reputation for having a sense of humour. ‘I don’t really,’ he said. ‘I just laugh heartily at my own jokes!’

At Wynberg, he finished off his talk as he started – with a challenge. ‘If I meet any of you in ten years time, I want you to come up to me and say that you were motivated at my talk to add value to society and make a difference to the world. How many of you will be inspired to become Nobel Prize Winners? Give the world a new invention? Discover new cures?’

He looked at the left hand side of the hall. ‘How about you?’ Then he looked at the right hand side of the hall. ‘How about you?’

Finally, he looked at the teachers on stage. ‘How about you?’ There were a few moments of dead silence in the hall as we went to sit down before a burst of sustained applause let him know in no uncertain terms that his message had struck home.

In his end-of-term address at the final assembly last Friday, Head Prefect Nick Martin told the school that listening to Archbishop Tutu was the highlight of the term for him. ‘It was almost as good as beating Grey ...’

Now, from a schoolboy, THAT is praise.

In the staff room

After signing some books in my office, we went to the staffroom for lunch. His bowl of soup took him about 45 minutes to consume as every teacher wanted to talk to him and dozens of photographs were taken. Kyle Williamson was overwhelmed. ‘I can’t believe I have just spoken to Desmond Tutu,’ he kept saying over and over again.

‘This is like having a rock star in our staff room,’ said Larry Moser.

‘Only bigger,’ I replied.

Eventually it was time to go. We went back to the Toyota and said our goodbyes. As I shut his door, I asked him, “Was that an intentional mistake about Rondebosch?’

He just winked at me.

Kyle Williamson & Archbishop Tutu

Now I will never know.

Dear Mr Richardson ...

The interviews of prospective incoming Grade 8’s for 2013 have come to an end and now the task begins of sifting through reports, letters from parents and boys, interview notes and confidential feedback from the primary schools.

It is not easy and there is certainly no foolproof system. I went with our Director of Academics, Neil Eddy, to listen to Dr Max Price, Vice Chancellor of UCT, when he spoke last week on the topic of UCT being an elite university. At the end, he was asked a question on admissions and said that if it were up to him personally, the top ten percent of his acceptances would be on marks with the other ninety percent being chosen by lottery (above a certain percentage mark of course).

‘How do you select on a mark?’ he queried. ‘What about character, commitment, energy, curiosity? Does a mark mean the candidate is going to be a good doctor?’

Quite so, Dr Price. Now try selecting twelve year olds for a school. Certainly a lottery would save much time, effort and heartache.

I really enjoyed doing the interviews and made copious notes on what the boys said – both in the interviews and in their letters.

‘I am writing a book,’ said one. ‘It is called Dragon Eye. When I become a famous author one day, I will say I am from Wynberg.’

Move over, Jacques Kallis – a new Wilbur Smith will now be promoting our school.

Others went on a different tack: ‘I desperately want to get into Wynberg. They say all girls love a Wynberg Man!’ I wonder if this would also apply to our young bachelor teachers?

Was his friend saying the same thing, when he wrote down emphatically: ‘I want to wear your uniform because then I know I will get what I want.’

Another one was quite insistent. ‘I am afraid that I have no choice about going to Wynberg.  My father refuses to pay fees for anywhere else and my mother says that she won’t lift me anywhere else.’ Oh, well – if only he had told me that earlier, we could have saved time on the interview!

As with this one: ‘My Mom and Dad believe in me so that that they have not applied for any other school.’

I have been wondering since his interview, what one boy meant by this: ‘Wynberg suits my personality.’

Forthrightness was the order of the day with this young man: ‘I would wear your blazer with so much pride, I would have to be forced to remove it!’ These type of comments are good reminders for our current boys who sometimes find themselves becoming a little blasé about the privilege of attending a top school.

They would also have had their heartstrings tweaked if they had heard this: ‘I only have a twin – but now I will have 800 brothers….’

One boy showed great insight when asked at the interview who he admired the most: ‘Nelson Mandela - because without him, I wouldn’t have most of the friends I have today.’ How could I not put a tick next to his name?

Others decided to put pride in their pocket and wrote: ‘I believe that the Principal is an Arsenal supporter. I have decided to become one as well. Go Arsenal!’

For some, flattery was the order of the day. ‘I have heard that at Wynberg all the teachers have PhD’s.’

My wife was determined that I accept this boy: ‘I just love your dog, Sandy.  I really want to get to know him better.’ Well, when he does, he will find out that it is a ‘she’.

One boy let me know exactly where he wanted to go in life: ‘I want to go to Wynberg because my Gramps went there – and he became a wealthy man.’  Now would be a good time to remind him about the ‘Richardson Mauritius Fund’.

Others clutched at straws: ‘If you accept me, I will use the library every day…’ while another said, ‘I will attend extra classes before and after school every day.’You mean just like the current Wynberg boys clamour to do?

One boy was a little disparaging about academics as he presumably did not have his mother check his letter: ‘The reason I would like to go to Wynberg is academics and other small things.’ I hope Mr Eddy does not read that letter - or this one: ‘I want to be an actuary one day but I am only getting 45% now but I know that your teachers will help me reach my goal.’

The last comment from a hopeful applicant must go to this twelve year old who may regret saying this in years to come: ‘There are too many distractions at Primary School. I must get rid of them. You know what I mean, Sir?’

Some of the parental letters were equally moving – and in many cases, amusing:

‘I was so impressed with the boy who was our guide. I wish his mother could have seen him.  She would have been so proud.’  I would like to think that could have applied to ANY of our guides!

‘Because I came from a family that was fanatical on sport, I specifically chose a husband who was not interested in sport. Guess what? My son inherited my family’s aptitude for sport.  So I am afraid he will just have to go to Wynberg.’

‘It has been an uphill battle to get him to attend other schools’ Open Days.’

‘This is what you will NOT get from my son. He will NOT be a first team rugby player – but he will be your most enthusiastic supporter!’

How can anyone turn a boy down with letters like these? Others let me know in no uncertain terms where I stood:

‘You will have to accept my second son. We are there so often, we might as well pitch a tent.’

‘Your school is one of the best in the country. It will benefit from having my son.’

Again, every boy currently at Wynberg should read this letter and remind themselves why they are at Wynberg: ‘The unfortunate aspect of education in South Africa is that High Schools determine the opportunities we have in life. I want to make sure that my son has a crack at those opportunities.’

I like to hear these types of comment: ‘My daughter was at WGHS. Whenever she brought a Wynberg boy home, I was greeted with a smile and with courtesy.’

‘After listening to the speeches on Open Day, your boys inspire me. They are your biggest assets. I want them to inspire my son next year.’

This expectation certainly puts us under pressure: ‘My son is showing signs of being a teenager. He needs Wynberg.’  Oh dear. But do we need him?

Or this one?  ‘My son must go to Wynberg. He is very lazy and will need your teachers to push him.’

I wonder what this parent meant? ‘I really like the fact that the school is clearly under new management. It shows.’ And to think I thought 14 years was quite a long time!

‘I thought Mr Richardson was being a bit rude in the way he described boys and their behaviour ... until I looked down the row and saw my son and his friends, nudging one another, responding to his insights and laughing heartily.’  I must remember at next year’s Open Day to ensure that I am more polite about our boys. The only problem is that they might not recognise themselves!

My final parental comment must go to one of my former Latin pupils, now a Lawyer:  ‘You were never able to eradicate my propensity and proclivity for using the split infinitive. I hope that you will make a better job with my son.’

I make no promises. No-one ever said that bringing up boys was about perfection!