The recent passing of Prince [Mangosuthu] Buthelezi has ignited a raging debate among different sectors of society, characterised by a contestation among three paradigms.
I identify these as the following: the man in the eyes of the traditional amaZulu base he built over years while serving as the head of the KwaZulu government, the leader of the IFP and, the all-powerful position of traditional prime minister to three kings of amaZulu.
The latter role made Buthelezi the face of many critical moments of the amaZulu royal house.
In this role, more recently, he paved the way for the current king to ascend the throne.
Using his impeccable knowledge of that nation’s history, the history of the royal house, and the traditions that underpin ascension to the throne, he navigated the minefield of contestation among different factions within the family.
In the process, Shenge cemented his place in the annals of amaZulu history as a staunch defender of their heritage.
It is my assertion that Buthelezi used this position to benefit his other ambitions: not least his political plans. And it worked wonders.
Even his most fervent political foes could not find it in them to attack the man’s colourful political legacy, choosing instead to accord him the standing of a noble statesman.
A lot of Buthelezi’s political capital was obtained from his having successfully projected himself as the embodiment of being umZulu.
Listening to mourners who attended his funeral, one got the sense that his stature, in their eyes, appeared to compete with that of the "father of the nation".
Some even came across as linking the legitimacy of the current king as flowing from the fact that “Shenge gave us” this king.
Of course, this is a misrepresentation of historical facts because the current king is king by reason of birth.
The second paradigm looks at Buthelezi as the leader of the erstwhile KwaZulu government.
In this regard, those commenting have sought to present him as a champion for rural development, education, and ultimate prudence in the management of public resources.
The leader of the UDM, Bantu Holomisa, made this point when he paid tribute to the man.
In fact, all leaders of political parties gave rave reviews of Buthelezi, including how the KwaZulu government was the only one of the self-governing territories to have returned a positive bank balance at the time of integration.
His love for nature conversation through [government organisation] Ezemvelo, his foresight and passion for local economic development through Ithala Bank.
All leaders of political parties were falling over themselves to contribute the most glowing tribute to Buthelezi.
The cynic in me attributes this jostling to politicians with an eye to 2024 and the possibility of having to reach out to Buthelezi’s political party for an ally in concluding coalition agreements.
In fairness to all those who opted to be rosy in their reflections on Buthelezi’s legacy, they may be invoking an expression from the old Latin version of ancient Greek philosophy: De mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est — loosely translated to decry speaking ill of the dead.
The political follies of disregarding this counsel are abundant in their clearness.
Owing to my background as a village person, I must confess to have sought refuge in this convenient habitat in engaging with the subject of Buthelezi’s death.
Of all the funerals I have attended, never has anyone speaking about the deceased ever referred to any of their misdemeanours.
Only the positive side of the deceased is accentuated.
The entire exercise of the funeral must, among other things, bring comforting closure for the bereaved and it is hardly sensible that one would opt to comment about the deceased only to inflict further pain.
I had made peace with my habitation in philosopher Chilon’s [of Sparta] “nihil nisi bonum” — “Speak no ill of the departed old man.”
Well, that was until I saw clips of interviews with survivors of the Boipatong massacre of 1992 where 45 residents of the township were murdered.
As history shows, the attack was led by members of Buthelezi’s political party, the IFP, supported by security forces of the apartheid government.
This tragic event was exposed as a campaign to weaken the hand of the liberation movement.
The Vaal, rural KZN, and other parts of the country were engulfed in a savage war perpetrated by Inkatha impis.
The rawness of the emotions of the survivors took me back to scenes carried in the documentary: The Savage War for Peace.
Shot in Thembisa, grisly scenes of Inkatha impis clad in red headbands hacking seriously injured residents while openly proclaiming their loyalty to the IFP and “Shenge”.
This is the side of Buthelezi that should not be sanitised out of history.
His conduct on the verge of our vaunted democratic breakthrough was demonstrative of a force determined to bring everything down just to secure a place at the table of the politically powerful.
It is in this version of himself that Buthelezi’s legacy will forever be dripping with blood of innocent people maimed at the hands of his impis.
It is this version, that of a man whose loyalist impis ripped families apart to advance the cause of a distorted view of what it meant to be a member of the nation of amaZulu and the IFP.
Threatening violence, Buthelezi held the country to ransom until the very last moments before the elections in 1994.
Interestingly, this version of Buthelezi took full advantage of his other two sides.
The KwaZulu government granted him access to the resources of he needed to dish patronage, his role as the traditional prime minister made him the champion of ubuZulu.
The story of Bhekisisa Mncube, journalist and author, is that example of families being ripped apart.
Owing to his having denounced Bhuthelezi and his Inkatha, Bhekisisa fell out with his father whom he has not spoken with since the early 1990s.
Apparently, Mncube’s father was an ardent supporter of Buthelezi. So deep was Mncube’s father’s loyalty to Buthelezi that when [Nelson] Mandela won the first democratic elections, he returned home and declared that any of his children who needed money to go to school would have to go to Mandela.
So, on the back of this version of Buthelezi, I am converted to Voltaire’s “To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only the truth”.
And the truth about Buthelezi is that despite the many things said to praise him after his death, he failed dismally to take advantage of many opportunities that he was presented with to advance a more peaceful future.
Until his death, Buthelezi never took responsibility for any of the mayhem his followers inflicted on many across SA.
His failure to acknowledge that his impis massacred people in Shobashobane, a mere 18 months after the first democratic elections.
It is this failure that makes the emotional scars continue to be so real for the survivors of his IFP.
Now that the man has departed, what remains is for SA to find lessons from the conversations that have been taking place since Buthelezi died.
My takeaway point is that there is still a lot of healing to be done.
As a starting point, let us invoke the counsel of [the Bible’s] Isiah, chapter 6, regarding the death of Uzziah.
There we get to learn that every occurrence presents an opportunity for newness to take root and flourish into the future representative of the ideals of our founding fathers.
As history continues to judge Buthelezi, SA must hail loud the pursuit of our dream for a prosperous country.
In our pursuit of the ideals of our founding fathers, we dare not leave it to be what Buddhist teacher and author Sharon Salzberg termed the “interminable chain of longing” where every experience is a fleeting indulgence devoid of focus on the real goal.
— Melikaya Rubushe taught industrial sociology at Rhodes University, East London campus
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