The hero everyone forgot: Josia Thugwane

07 August 2015 - 02:09 By Mike Wise

The picture is of an ageing, tan-brick farmhouse at the end of a long, dusty road. In it the man raises his arms towards the heavens, his index finger and thumb appearing to make the victory sign.It is 1996. He is standing in the middle of several thousand black children in Coca-Cola T-shirts and caps, some with their mouths agape, cheering, others looking stoically into the lens.Nineteen years later Josia Thugwane looks at the photo competing for space on his living room wall with a mural of himself and Nelson Mandela.He still doesn't know whether he affected lives that day.The Coke deal ended more than a decade ago. No one from the athletics federation has called to ask the famous Olympian to speak to kids, make an appearance or be a mentor to a promising runner in years, much less attend any upcoming 20th anniversary function.Instead, he will help Zodwa, his wife of almost 20 years, serve plates of rice, lightly fried chicken and thick, brown gravy. Then he will channel surf the news, soap operas and soccer. Before dusk he will tend to the cows.Thugwane is now the embodiment of what Robert Frost once said: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."If a man is a national hero, but his own country doesn't remember him, is he really a national hero? Did his life mean more than one touch-the-gods moment?Thugwane "reinforced our pride and confidence as a nation" Mandela said then. Almost 20 years later he sits quietly in his single-storey rambler on a 75-acre plot of land uncertain of what constitutes a memorable life.Do you still run? "Marathons?" Thugwane asks. "No, no, no. Soon, I may train for 10K."Can you run now?"Now? Outside?"Thugwane suddenly jumps up and walks purposefully down the hall into his bedroom. He reaches into his top closet shelf for a folded sweat suit, his country's green, gold, black and red colours emblazoned across the chest. Underneath the five interlocking rings in black embroidery it reads: "SA Olympic Team Atlanta 1996."Before the interview begins and the videographers begin rolling, he wants to know why the reporter came to his home 19 years later.He is told about the American company that developed Million Dollar Arm and its interest in turning his story into a feature film.Why do foreign producers see something in him that South Africans stopped seeing? Why has his story yet to be properly told?Can you repeat your name and who you are into the camera?The face tightens, enough to see a scar between his lip and chin."My name is Josia Thugwane. I am the greatest story no one ever told."Job Mahlangu, Thugwane's first mentor, the man who discovered him 27 years ago, stares vacantly towards the Koornfontein Mines in Mpumalanga, where they first met."After the Olympics everybody is talking with Josia. But now they don't talk about him any more."Ian Laxton, one of two South African broadcasters in Atlanta 19 years ago, says "probably 2% would know who he is".It makes no sense.Soon after Thugwane was born his father left his mother for another woman who didn't want a son who wasn't hers. Before he was two his mother left him for a man who didn't want a son who wasn't his.He grew up with his grandmother and uncle, who sent his own children to school but refused to send young Josia. He pleaded with his uncle, only to be told that someone must tend the cattle while his children were at school.His dreams were beaten out of him by his uncle's belt, sometimes until he bled.He can't remember running far before he was 14. He had no daily regimen, just the innate desire to escape his rule. It carried him in the middle of the night on foot to Kriel, where he found work gardening for an older woman, who gave him room and board.It was the spring of 1988 and Josia's first godsend - a lithe black man with elan - had just flown past in colourful running shoes.The 17-year-old Josia jumped off that gate and joined the group of fleet men in stride.Mahlangu thought the "boy was playing" until he sped to the front, staying there for 12km until he tired and lay down in the grass as the men passed, shaking their heads at the kid's audacity.The next day Thugwane summoned the courage to ask Mahlangu if he could join his team. But he had no running shoes and none of the other runners wanted to let him borrow a pair for fear he would steal them.Finally, after his bare feet blistered during several long training runs, Mahlangu promised he would pay for shoes.It was the first of many times he would vouch for Thugwane, a young man he barely knew but wholly believed in.He kept pushing Mahlangu to let him run this thing called a marathon. At the Sun City marathon in 1989 he pleaded for an entry bib. Mahlangu told him he could run, but to stop if he got tired. He thought this advice odd."I start running - run, run, run, run," Thugwane remembers. "I feel a little bit tired. I was like, 'Why is this race not finished now?' "After the halfway point he kept going , finishing in fifth place.He won R900. He bought his first pair of new running shoes, Nike Vendettas.Then three years later, at 21, Thugwane just missed qualifying for the 1992 Barcelona Games, South Africa's return to the Olympic stage.He won the national marathon championship in 1993 in Cape Town and the Honolulu marathon two years later. The next year Josia was faced with one last chance to avoid being an alternate on the Olympic team: run the national marathon in 1996 in 2h:9m or better.He won, but sank as he saw his time of more than 2h:11m.About a week later the race's sponsors, with the athletic federation, decided the national champion should be a part of the team.The race in Atlanta began just after 1pm local time. The first historic moment happened at 24km, when Thugwane ran to the front for one of the most unscripted, empowering images of any Olympic Games.He was joined by Lee Bong-ju of South Korea. At 30km Thugwane broke away, but Lee maintained striking distance.And then it happened. At the last water station, inside of 1.6km, Thugwane's arms and legs pushed past Lee. He looked back as he entered the stadium to see how much distance he had created.With less than 200m left he began to exult, windmilling his arms, crossing the finish line in 2h:12m:36sec .Bedlam - on two continents."This is for my country," he said. "This is for my president."Thugwane continued training and occasionally winning, remaining an internationally sponsored elite marathoner for the next four years. But he never again summoned the majesty he had that day in Atlanta.Neither did any of his countrymen.His last marathon victory came in Cape Town in 2006. When the Liberty Nike Athletic Club of Central Gauteng broke up in 2008, he lost more sponsorship. He went from collecting about $2500 a month after his prime to $250 before his retirement.Thugwane ran his last competitive race in 2010, dropping out of the Comrades barely a third of the way through.His current manager, Dries Lessing, said he knew it was over when a local bank that had Thugwane on retainer refused to pay him."He's not winning," Lessing was told, "so what good is he to us?"A reporter asks the retired athlete whether he thinks he inspired the kids in that picture on his wall.He says he made a difference then "but my dream is to help the young and talented athletes in South Africa now. I fail in this goal because I don't have the money from the government or sponsors to help them."He blames his English more than the country that forgot about him."Maybe I'm not a good talker."Thugwane is now living in virtual anonymity, the lion in winter, waiting for his phone to ring, for someone to remember what he said into the camera: "My name is Josia Thugwane. I am the greatest story no one ever told." ESPN's The Undefeated..

There’s never been a more important time to support independent media.

From World War 1 to present-day cosmopolitan South Africa and beyond, the Sunday Times has been a pillar in covering the stories that matter to you.

For just R80 you can become a premium member (digital access) and support a publication that has played an important political and social role in South Africa for over a century of Sundays. You can cancel anytime.

Already subscribed? Sign in below.



Questions or problems? Email helpdesk@timeslive.co.za or call 0860 52 52 00.