JONATHAN JANSEN | Unbowed and unbought to the very end

When I prepared to deliver the inaugural Don Mattera lecture in March this year, I chose my final words carefully. I sensed that I might never again see this community leader who had become such an inspiring role model to generations of young South Africans. “Bra Don,” I said in the closing words and as the camera swung to his ploughed and thoughtful face, “I want you to know that you are well-remembered and that you are loved.” When Don died this week I was so grateful that I could share those final words with this icon.

What a loss. When an Afrikaans radio programme asked me this week what made Don different, I said in a deliberate mix of languages: “Hy was nie ge-capture nie (he wasn’t captured).” He stands out in a sea of mediocre political leaders, precisely because he was our countercultural leader, unbowed and unbought to the very end.

Don represented in his very blood what our country is and ought to become, someone who defies classification. The beautiful offspring of an Italian father and African mother. A Muslim devotee who was the product of a Catholic convent school and quoted Christian hymns in his poetry. A gangster who went on to win a peace prize. A man who received banning orders under one government and honorary orders (Ikhamanga in Silver) under the next one. An ANC conscript who moved with his convictions rather than hang on desperately for the tainted spoils of war. A man of conscience who joined the National Forum because he believed the United Democratic Front (UDF) was not inclusive enough (go figure). An activist whose political commitments were in every sense borderless.

In short, Don was not defined by his origins, not trapped in a consigned identity, not constrained by political loyalties, and not defined by his past. How we need that sort of development activist today.

What do men or women live for, it not to be remembered by their beloved?

—  From Don Mattera’s poem, Child

If the adage holds true that these days intellectuals are more likely to be found outside of universities, then Don is a walking embodiment of that public spirit. He wrote books, composed poems and delivered speeches that moved your head and your heart. Where once he wielded knives, he went on to wield words to even greater effect. When I read Don, even today, I am forced to sit back and say about the deep things that he grappled with. Simple, never pretentious, always connecting with your very soul.

Don came to the launch of my very first book more than 20 years ago, somewhere in Braamfontein. I remember feeling overwhelmed that such a formidable thinker and doer would take the time to attend this event. It was a grace I would never forget and a timely lesson that no matter how high you rise in the estimation of others, keep your feet firmly on the ground.

What enabled Don to defy political gravity, that powerful downward spiral of defiant leaders under apartheid who become defiled leaders after the struggle? Simple. He lived his life by a set of steering values that would not be compromised by the trappings of power — material excesses, obsequious followers, blue light brigades, the whole caboodle. Don might have had his comrades in mind when he wrote: “They crawled for the colonial crumbs of comfort and sold their souls for money.”

He instead turned around the lives of youngsters on the margins of society (some of whom have paid moving tributes in the media) well beyond the boundaries of Eldorado Park. “My personal mission,” he once penned, “is to remove pain and suffering from people’s lives.”

Two well-known politicians/activists died this week. The one was seen off with the unflattering “in Africa, we don’t speak ill of the dead”, hardly a resounding affirmation of that departed soul. The other is being hailed as the person we hope to emulate.

His timing was perfect, for Don died on Mandela Day. I could not help thinking that if some journalist were to ask him what he would be doing for this day of giving, Don would probably say something like this: I would do what I did yesterday and what I plan to do tomorrow. In the way he lived his life, Don’s commitment to service was consistent and unwavering over the decades. Now that is worth emulating.

He was once asked how he would like to be remembered: “That I loved my country and that I served my people.” In the stirring poem Child, he would write: “What do men or women live for, if not to be remembered by their beloved?” Donate Francisco Mattera, we joyfully grant you that remembrance as you rise in glory.