Saki Macozoma Shares How Anti-Apartheid Leader Desmond Tutu Restored His Faith

JOHANNESBURG— While the world continues to pay tribute to the late Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu — who fought against apartheid and brought racial reconciliation to South Africa — his spiritual son, business mogul and anti-apartheid activist Saki Macozoma fondly reflected with ReligionUnplugged.com on the special moments they shared.

Tutu passed away at age 90 in Cape Town, Dec. 26, and was not only a spiritual father to Macozoma but a man who restored his Christian faith. 

Chairman of the Vodacom Group and Safika Holdings, Saki Macozoma said the late Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu was not only a father to him but a man who restored his faith. Photo courtesy of Macozoma.

Macozoma is now one of the richest men in South Africa as the chairman of both the mobile phone operator Vodacom Group and international investment company Safika Holdings — headed by former political prisoners who sat alongside a young Nelson Mandela, who later rose to become South Africa’s first democratically elected president.

Macozoma was jailed for five years at Robben Island in Cape Town after leading a student protest during the apartheid regime. He also served under the leadership of Tutu during the archbishop’s term as the secretary general of the South African Council of Churches and was mentored by Mandela. Macozoma studied political science, economics and journalism at the University of South Africa and Boston University.

Tutu offered Macozoma a job when they met at Hunter College in New York City, where Tutu was a visiting lecturer. Upon his return to South Africa, Macozoma worked under Tutu at the South African Council of Churches.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Religion Unplugged: Can you take us through your relationship with the late Archbishop Tutu?

Saki Macozoma: My relationship with the Arch began before he became the Arch. He was the secretary general of the SACC, which became my employer when I was released from Robben Island in 1982. My first job was with the East Cape Council of Churches in Port Elizabeth. I had, of course, read (when we could steal or smuggle newspapers into the prison) about Bishop Tutu whilst I was still on the island.

Some of the political prisoners were not sold to the role he was playing in the country, especially in the ‘80s. They feared what they called the Muzorewa option. They feared that he was being “cultivated” to be an opposition leader to the Liberation Movement much the same way as Bishop Muzorewa was played in the Zimbabwean political transition. I held a different view. Over the years, I got to know the bishop, later the archbishop, so well and served under him in many roles and capacities. Although it was really a father-son relationship, it was also comradely. 

RU: Take us through the first day you met him and your relationship afterwards. 

SM: My first personal encounter with the archbishop was when we were organizing with the SACC, the Colemans, the Black Sash and others, and the Detainees’ Parents Support Committees, which was a support group for parents whose children had been snatched into detention without trial — often with parents not knowing in which prison their children were held. In these early encounters, I noticed his sense of humor and his ability to diffuse very tense situations with disarming humor and candor. 

RU: What was the purpose of the meeting? 

SM: I met the archbishop on a one-on-one basis — Dr. Motlana was in the room, though — for the first time when I was invited to apply for a scholarship to study in the U.S. in 1983. The interview took place at Wilgespruit Fellowship Center, which has a rich history of struggle in the church. I recall the questions from the Arch as being probing as to what I’d do with the education I sought and whether I was prepared to serve our people. I was surprised when I got the scholarship. A few years later, I met him at Hunter College in New York City, where he was a visiting lecturer and also convened public anti-apartheid meetings. He asked as to how far I was in my studies. I said I’d be going home in about six months. He made me a job offer to come and join his office.

When I did return to South Africa, I joined the SACC. By then, he’d been elected archbishop of Cape Town. So I joined the Dependents Conference Division of the SACC and found people like Thom Manthata and Sophie Mazibuko there. In my mind, the longest land journey I have ever done was when we attended the enthronement of the archbishop and traveled by bus with fellow SACC staffers from Johannesburg to Cape Town and back. To me, the enthronement of the archbishop in Cape Town was the harbinger of the things to come — the swearing in of President Mandela as the first democratically elected president of the Republic of South Africa. 

RU: What is it that drew you closer to him?

SM: What drew me closer to the Arch was his personality. He was a deeply religious man who did not act piously in an exhibitionist way, who had courage against extreme odds and courage to pronounce his opposition to anything that was wrong without fear or favor. His fight against the necklacing scourge was one example. His political tact and sense of strategy appealed to me. I got closer to the Arch beyond the sphere of work when Brigalia Bam joined the SACC from Geneva. I often accompanied her to the Tutu household given her friendship with Mrs. Tutu and Mrs. Joyce Seroke. I am grateful for the many private moments I shared in the house of the Tutus, both in Soweto and in Cape Town. 

What drew me closer to the archbishop — other than access to his home — was his spirituality. He was not just a career refugee from the teaching profession that he abandoned when Bantu Education was introduced in 1955. He was a genuinely spiritual being. He restored my faith in Christianity, especially of the Anglican variety, which is the church of my ancestors. He demonstrated that faith has to have consequences and that in an unjust society, it called us to action. I am grateful for this lesson by example. 

RU: What is the key lesson that you have learned from him?  

SM: Of the many things I learned from the Arch, I can single out his compassion. The Arch had the birthdays of all the personal assistants of the people he interacted with. On their birthdays, he would send a card to them with a handwritten message to the assistant. I once came across a letter he had written to a prominent staff member terminating his employment at the SACC. The way he conveyed the message without seeking to create an emotional cripple in him was instructive, and I used the lesson when I assumed responsibilities of a similar nature later in life. The way in which he would inquire about the welfare of each individual who was in detention was also touching to me. 

RU: What went through your mind when you heard about his departure? Did you shed a tear when you heard about his passing? How did you learn about his passing? 

SM: The calling of the Arch to glory is something that was hard not to anticipate for a few months now. As a member of the Desmond and Leah Tutu Legacy Foundation and a senior member of our church, I was in the messaging list. It was inevitable that one would have a lump in one’s throat, but given the circumstances, my inclination was to say, ‘Let thy will be done.’ I could not help, though, but reflect on the many leaders that we have lost and the leadership challenges that we have. That said, I also had to say to myself, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars.” Because we have failed to lead, we cannot preserve our elders and deny them the natural processes and stages of life. “Into ingathi ngoku” — a Xhosa translation for “the baton is in our hands.”

Vicky Abraham is an investigative journalist based in South Africa and has reported for the Mail & Guardian, City Press, Assist News, the Nation newspaper in Nigeria and Nation Media Group in Kenya.