My Land Obsession

Bulelwa Mabasa

Description

Winner of the Sunday Times Literary Awards 2023 Non-Fiction Prize

Bulelwa Mabasa was born into a ‘matchbox’ family home in Meadowlands, Soweto, at the height of apartheid. In My Land Obsession, she shares her colourful Christian upbringing, framed by the lived experiences of her grandparents, who endured land dispossession in the form of the Group Areas Act and the migrant labour system.

Bulelwa’s world was irrevocably altered when she encountered the disparities of life in a white-dominated school. Her ongoing interest in land justice informed her choice to study law at Wits, with the land question becoming central in her postgraduate studies.

When Bulelwa joined the practice of law in the early 2000s as an attorney, she felt a strong need to build on her curiosity around land reform, moving on to form and lead a practice centred on land reform at Werksmans Attorneys. She describes the role played by her mentors and the professional and personal challenges she faced. My Land Obsession sets out notable legal cases Bulelwa has led and lessons that may be drawn from them, as well as detailing her contributions to national policy on land reform and her views on how the land question must be inhabited and owned by all South Africans.

Sujets

• Droit public
• Afrique du Sud
• Law
• Lawyer
• Memoir
• South Africa
• Republic of South Africa
• Droit et juridique
• Constitutional
• Land Use

Informations

• Publié par: Pan Macmillan South Africa
• Date de parution: 01 août 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781770107977
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

My Land
Obsession
A Memoir
Bulelwa Mabasa
PICADOR AFRICA

First published in 2022 by Picador Africa
an imprint of Pan Macmillan South Africa
Private Bag X19, Northlands
Johannesburg
2116
www.panmacmillan.co.za
ISBN 978 1 77010 796 0
e-ISBN 978 1 77010 797 7
Text © 2022 Bulelwa Mabasa
Foreword © 2022 David Hertz
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All photographs are from the author’s personal collection .
Editing by Sally Hines
Proofreading by Sean Fraser
Design and layout by Triple M Design
Cover design by publicide
Author photograph by Jeremy Glyn (courtesy of Werksmans)

Contents
Foreword by David Hertz
Preface : A Life-Changing Moment on Our Family Vacation
Part 1 Echoes of the Ancestors
1 The Pillars
2 511K
3 Foundation
4 Lights … Camera … Action!
5 The Roots
6 Mawe and Tata
7 Lost Land
8 Planted Seeds
9 The Picket Fence
10 Tale and Babam
11 1283
12 Shades and Textures of the Land of My Birth
Part 2 A New Dawn
13 Blooming
14 The Greys within the Rainbow
15 Freedom
16 Enlightenment
17 The Law
18 A Glimpse into Practice
Part 3 On the Way to Becoming
19 A (Legal) Home
20 9/11
21 Signed Up
22 Tea Girl
23 Belonging
24 An Ambivalent Litigator
25 A Grandmother’s Prayer
26 Arthur
Part 4 Heritage Meets Profession
27 A Mother is Born
28 Partnership
29 Independence
30 The Quest for Social Impact and Meaning
31 A Tale of Joy and Sorrow
32 Raising Children while Building a Law Practice
33 Crown of the Nation
Part 5 Of Land and Ancestors
34 A Land Reform Practice Takes Root
35 Rebuilding
36 Media Exposure
37 Saving a Sacred Seat for the Ancestors
38 Spirits Don’t Cower
39 Recognising, Protecting and Supporting Indigenous Knowledge Systems
40 Not a Black or White Issue
41 Changing Tides and a Shift in Land Politics
42 Turning Points
Part 6 A Duty to Serve
43 The Struggle for Land Justice
44 An Ode to My Ancestors
Acknowledgements
About the Author


Foreword
‘ H amba uyoba sisbane MaDlamini .’
‘Go out there and light up the world,’ the words articulated by Bulelwa’s paternal grandmother, Sesi, on Bulelwa’s graduation, in fact understate the impact that my co-director and close friend has on everyone her aura touches.
When Bulelwa asked me to pen the Foreword to her memoir, I had no appreciation of the enormity of the task and the privilege that was being accorded to me. As I paged through this book, I garnered a renewed appreciation of both the challenging road that Bulelwa has navigated and the incredible people who have guided her on her path to the pinnacle of the legal profession.
Her story is imbued with optimism and passion. It demonstrates the power of positivity and triumph against inequity and inequality.
To describe Bulelwa as lighting up the world perfectly describes her personality. She explodes onto the stage, dominates conversations and drives initiatives, invariably to a successful conclusion.
She is the epitome of a modern-day professional, perfectly balancing the multifaceted challenges that she encounters. As important as the success of her career has been to her, so too is her bond as the matriarch of her magnificent family.
There remains a rift, some would say a chasm, between South Africans who constitute the so-called Rainbow Nation. It is a barrier that I have spent my life trying to break down. We have so much to offer each other, a fact that emerges with startling clarity from the kaleidoscope of experiences that burst forth from Bulelwa’s life story.
Bulelwa is, to my mind, the best of a generation of South Africans who grew up during a time of great darkness and emerged into the light with an unquenchable desire to break down barriers and move forward as one. She is an integral member of the Werksmans family. Her team is an eclectic mix of the best South Africa has to offer. My life has been immeasurably enhanced by being part of hers.
On a personal note, my mother passed away earlier this month. She instilled in me a love of reading and writing, and I have, in consequence, kept a journal to record my life experiences for over two decades. Amongst my mother’s greatest joys, aside from her family, was paging through each completed volume of my journal. I am saddened that she did not have the opportunity to read Bulelwa’s story, as it is a manifestation of a life that has been well lived, which was my mother’s credo.
David Hertz
Johannesburg
June 2022


Preface
A Life-Changing Moment on Our Family Vacation
I t was in the Mueang Phuket District, in the resort town of Karon on the west coast of the island of Phuket, that the WhatsApp message dropped on my mobile phone. The text appeared as soon as we arrived at our hotel in Khao Lak. This was the last leg of our family vacation.
Even my beloved, forever cheerful, supportive, glass-half-full, happy-go-lucky husband Arthur was visibly drained, with both our girls, Ntsumi and Akani, eleven and seven, hanging beside him, and our boy Rixaka, who was five, clutched on my back.
We had just arrived from a day-long and insightful but tiring tour of the serene Karon Temple, the breathtaking and panoramic views of Karon Viewpoint overlooking the Andaman Sea, and the spiritually grounding and humbling Big Buddha.
It is virtually impossible for my husband and I to talk each other out of our shared sense of innate madness and a mutual insati able taste for adventure. I am often tempted to believe the zodiac sign mumbo jumbo: me, the airy-fairy, open-minded and laid-back Libran consumed by his adventure-crazy, interesting and imaginative Archer spirit.
We should have known better than to wake up in the wee hours of the morning with three young kids for a tour that would last at least eight hours, when we were already two weeks into our Thailand escapade.
We had agreed early in our marriage that we would keep our spark alive by exploring at least one destination abroad not less than once a year – just the two of us. In fact, keeping each other’s spirits young and vibrant was an essential part of the private vows we shared in earnest eight years prior in front of Reverend Dr Wesley Mabuza.
Our annual overseas pilgrimages soon morphed into at least one bi-annual trip taken in the latter part of the year, tagging the kids along with us. With both of us products of apartheid, born and bred in Soweto – albeit in distinctly different townships and eras – travel provided the perfect antidote to a life we had only imagined and had read about in books in our formative years.
We had been anticipating a meltdown from any one of the children on the tour as the scorching temperature reached unbearable proportions.
Our complexions had positively morphed from mild dark brown to midnight navy blue.
I spontaneously left Arthur with Ntsumi and Rixaka when I saw an ATM nearby. I was sure I was making a genius move, as I was concerned about the three little faces staring back at me with dehydration. My intention was to withdraw some cash and buy gallons of water from the tired, unfriendly looking woman seated at her stall outside the temple. True to form, Akani tagged along with me.
The language at the ATM was Thai, with no English translation. I relied on my instincts and followed the prompts. When the ATM machine finally spat out the cash for me to pull out, I breathed a sigh of relief. I celebrated too soon.
What transpired was a struggle between my sweaty fingers and the ATM machine, which only managed to produce less than a third of the stack of cash and made it impossible for me to pull out the rest of the money. Attempts at trying to pull out the cash came to naught, and Akani’s efforts came too late. The time was up, and I watched my ATM card being swallowed by the machine. It was too late to apologise to Akani as the swear word ejected itself out my mouth without warning.
By all accounts, a day that was dominated by the picturesque kaleidoscope of lush-green vegetation, the coral-blue ocean and arresting sunsets, and the spiritual fulfilment we had been exposed to on our tour degenerated into the infamous moment when Mommy lost the family bank card on the last leg of our vacation in Thailand.
Feeling depleted and deflated, and frantically trying to contact the bank back in South Africa upon arrival at the hotel, I noticed the text sent earlier, which was from an unknown number but was clearly from home.
This was not just any text. It read: ‘ Mrs Mabasa, the Office of the Presidency has been trying to reach you. Kindly indicate when you may become available to take a call from His Excellency President Cyril Ramaphosa .’
As we never do when travelling abroad, we were not on a roaming service. The WhatsApp message must have landed hours before, perhaps while I was being the toss that lost the bank card.
I removed the cold, damp towel offered by the friendly and ever-smiling hotel host to cool me down, which I had placed around my neck. I wiped my sandy sunglasses and the screen of my mobile phone – in case I was hallucinating.
I knew instinctively that the one and only reason that the president of my country would seek me out, or even bother to have a conversation with me, would be non