Madiba Magic at Wynberg

Nelson Mandela

I once had dinner with Nelson Mandela.

It was early May 1999 with the General Election about to take place on 2nd June with President Mandela standing down after a single term in office.  An enticing envelope with the words ‘Office of the President of the Republic of South Africa’ arrived on my desk with an invitation enclosed inviting me to dinner the following week.

I accepted with alacrity and with my ears ringing with a list of questions to ask him from my (then) ten year old son, I joined about twenty other people in the ante-room of Genandendal, the official Cape Town residence of the President about three kilometres from Wynberg.  I did not know a single person there – but no matter - I was about to meet the most famous man in the world.

From the moment he entered into the room, I knew that everything that was said about him was correct.  He wastall and he certainly had charisma.  He stopped and talked to everyone.  As he approached me, I realised that no-one had briefed me on what to call him.  ‘Mr President’ sounded too American; ‘Mr Mandela’ too common;  ‘Madiba’ too familiar.  So I settled on ‘Sir’.  I couldn’t go wrong with th
‘Keith Richardson, Sir,’ I said when he came up to me. ‘Headmaster of Wynberg Boys’ High School.’

‘Aah…’ he said to me with that familiar voice.  ‘Wynberg Boys’ High School…..  I am going to be out of office in a few weeks.  Do you have a job for me?’

Very difficult to respond to that.  A spot with the 9C History class, perhaps?  Motivational speaker with the first team rugby?  Executive coach of our senior management?

Before I could make a fool of myself, he had moved on - chuckling to himself.

The discussion over the meal was somewhat of a blur.  He talked and answered questions and had us hanging on to every word.  Then he did something quite special.  He brought in his housekeeper and introduced her to us.  Holding her hand, he told us that none of this meal would have been possible without her and her helpers.  He introduced all of them to us one by one saying what role they played in the organisation of his household.

Amazing.

I learnt one very important lesson that night. Leadership is like a pyramid.  Any leadership book will give you the stones on which to build leadership potential – skills like planning, organisation, expertise, emotional intelligence, relationships -  but the apex of this pyramid is humility.  This is what enables men like Mandela to stand way above all other world leaders.

It was five years before this in May 1994, a few weeks after he had taken office, that I had proudly written to him informing him that Wynberg was sending a group of young South Africans from Wynberg Boys’ High School on a cricket tour to Barbados.  I was so excited by this tour.  For years I had played and coached sport, but now we had a chance to show off our talents on a world stage.  At a coaching clinic the previous year, I had met West Indian cricketer Conrad Hunt who had wangled us an invitation to the Sir Garfield Sobers International Schools Cricket Festival.

To my utter amazement, I received a reply to my letter before we left -  signed by the great man personally.  He thanked me for informing him and wished us well on the tour.

We flew to Barbados feeling like royalty.

Appropriately (considering that it was his initiative which gained us the invitation), our first match was on the Conrad Hunt Oval against Alleyne School from Barbados.  An ‘Oval’ was rather a grand name for a field which was cut out from the middle of acres of sugar cane  with a very modest wooden pavilion on the boundary.  Before the match could start, both teams helped to shoo the goats and cows from the playing area – a good international bonding experience. After viewing the pitch with some suspicion, we were relieved when the opposing captain won the toss and opted to bat.  We needn’t have worried, though –  the pitch played superbly.

I opted to watch our opening bowlers from the long-on boundary and positioned myself on a roller.  Shortly after the start of the game, a rather non-descript Bajan emerged behind me from the sugar cane proudly sporting a Rastafarian beanie and determinedly clutching a bottle of Bajan rum.  Blinking in the sun and swaying slightly, he watched play for a few moments before coming over to me.

‘Where you frum, mon?’ is what I interpreted him asking me.

‘A school in South Africa,’ I replied.  His demeanour changed instantly and my heart sank. I looked around for support.  Doesn’t he know it is a new South Africa now and that we are no longer the polecats of the world?  He advanced towards me with arms outstretched and embraced me with a bear-like hug.  ‘Mandela! Mandela!’ he said over and over again, breathing and spilling rum all over me.

The Wynberg bowler was at the end of his run-up. Play stopped. The fielders were all staring at me.  Was I in trouble? Was their coach being attacked?  ‘Bomber’ Wells, one of the Wynberg players said to me afterwards that he thought I was concluding a deal for some of Barbados’ finest.

James 'Bomber' Wells

I hated to disappoint Bomber – but that was not the case at all.  In a remote cane field on a small 14 by 11 mile island in the Caribbean, a local resident was just showing me what all the world felt about Nelson Mandela.

I know what I felt when we reached the final against Lodge School from Barbados two weeks later.  We played the match at the Kensington Oval, the famous test ground in the capital, Bridgetown.  The South African cricket team had lost their first ever test match against the West Indies at this ground the year before.  We had brought the new South African flag out with us from home and the cricket authorities allowed us to fly it from a flag post above the Frank Worrall stand.  Without doubt this was the first time that the new South African flag had graced the Kensington Oval.  Only those South Africans who had tried to travel in the years before 1994 will know the relief and pride of seeing, and acknowledging, the South African Flag - our flag - flying in a foreign country.

Justin Rookledge & Sir Garfield Sobers

The boys played like they understood that this match was something special. Simon Hofmeyr set the tone with a masterly 50.  When it was our turn to field, Antonio Bruni hunted down a ball racing to the boundary and hurled himself to the turf.  ‘Jonty.  Jonty,’ chanted the crowd remembering the feats of acrobatic Jonty Rhodes at the recent World Cup.  Antonio swelled with pride and it seemed destiny that captain, Justin Rookledge, would later go up in front of the nation’s TV cameras to receive the trophy from Sir Garfield Sobers himself.

We all know who really made this possible.

In 2009, the year of his 90th birthday, I decided to make Mandela my theme for the year.  At the first assembly of every term, I took one of his sayings and used it as an inspiration for the term ahead.  The first term I discussed his speech on ‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we powerful beyond measure.’

For teenage boys who are driven by peer approval and often allow themselves to be dragged down to the common denominator, they need continually to hear: ‘As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.’

At the Prefect Inauguration that year, I quoted to the school: ‘What counts in life is not the mere fact that we have lived.  It is what difference we have made to the lives of others that will determine the significance of the life we lead.’

A few years back, I pasted another quote on the exam desk of every matric about to write his final exams.  It was from the film Invictus which Mandela passed on to Francois Pienaar before the 1995 World Cup Final: ‘I am the master of my fate; I am captain of my soul.’

Every term we have a Life Orientation Day at Wynberg where various speakers address the boys on a number of topics.  It will coincide this this coming term with Mandela Day on 18th July and all the boys will be asked to put in at least 67 minutes of service on that day thus following the injunction of Nelson Mandela to endeavour to change the world in our own individual ways.

‘Nelson Mandela,’ said Archbishop Tutu to President Obama at a function last week, ‘is our past, present and future.’

We, as the current torch holders of Wynberg, can indeed deem ourselves fortunate that we have lived in the time of Nelson Mandela.  It is beholden on future generations to continue his legacy of weaving the threads of our diverse culture together.

This diversity is both our strength and our challenge.