What’s in a name? A prophecy? A curse? A golden ticket? Can the syllables we inherit shape our destiny, dictating how the world perceives us and how we, in turn, navigate that perception?
Consider two men who have dominated South Africa’s political landscape: Julius Sello Malema and Jacob Gedleyihlekisa Zuma. Their names bear weighty sermons.
Malema’s middle name, Sello, means weeping, and time has revealed just how prophetic that has been. Zuma’s? One who smiles while causing harm. No truer words have ever been spoken.
As comrades flee the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), many finding refuge in Zuma’s newly formed uMkhonto we Sizwe Party (MK Party), I am haunted by how the political fates of these two men continue to intertwine. One is a revolutionary at heart, an idealist who built a movement on radical principles. The other? A master puppeteer, a political survivor who thrives on patronage, fear and unwavering personal loyalty.
If politics is like climbing a tree, then both have ascended with breathtaking speed. But staying at the top? That is the real test.
Malema, the enfant terrible of South African politics, carved his path with impeccable timing. Armed with the energy of youth and the momentum of a restless generation, he became the voice of the poor, the labourers, the forgotten. His populist rhetoric sent shivers down the spines of the privileged and he made “economic freedom” the battle cry of the disillusioned. Under his leadership, the EFF radicalised students mainstreamed the demand for land expropriation, and reminded white South Africa that its grip on power was anything but secure. That, perhaps, was South Africa’s true new dawn.
That, right there, is Zuma’s gospel. He has played the game long enough to know that power is not about righteousness — it is about endurance.
— Kgaugelo Masweneng
Zuma, on the other hand, has always played the long game. His political education began in the trenches — first as a teenage recruit in uMkhonto we Sizwe, later as a key figure in the ANC’s intelligence division during exile. His ascent was slow, methodical, built on carefully nurtured alliances and an ability to bend any crisis to his advantage. A man of contradictions, he is both a scandal-ridden former president and a peace broker, a populist and a strategist, a man who speaks of the people’s suffering while ensuring he never shares in it. Unlike Malema, whose appeal is ideological, Zuma’s power is deeply personal. His people do not follow ideas — they follow him.
Their paths have converged and diverged in the most theatrical ways. Malema was once Zuma’s fiercest defender, famously declaring in 2008: “We are prepared to die for Zuma ... We are prepared to take up arms and kill for Zuma.”
Back then, Zuma was locked in a bitter struggle against Thabo Mbeki, fighting corruption charges and factional battles. Malema’s fiery loyalty made him a household name, a provocateur whose audacity captured the imagination of the disaffected.
But revolutions devour their own. By 2010, Malema turned on Zuma, disillusioned by the government’s failure to implement radical economic transformation policies. The fallout was brutal. Malema, once on the brink of seizing ultimate power within the ANC, was excommunicated. He was forced to start anew, building the EFF from the ground up. For years, it seemed he had outmanoeuvred his old mentor, positioning himself as the true alternative to ANC rule.
And then came the sucker punch.
The rise of MK Party has shaken Malema’s empire to its core. The EFF, once the refuge for those disenchanted with the ANC, is bleeding talent and loyalty — many of them running straight into Zuma’s open arms. The irony is thick. Malema, the man who built a movement on collective identity, on ideology, now watches as Zuma builds a movement around his persona. And it is working.
The man whose name means weeping has indeed been left to weep.
Zuma, ever the smiling executioner, thrives. His infamous Mayibabo cry in parliament years ago now echoes through his political victories. It is almost as if he knew he would get back at him. Malema fights against betrayal; Zuma absorbs it, repackages it and turns it into power.
The difference between these two men lies not just in their names, but in their movements.
The EFF, despite Malema’s cult of personality, has a strong collective identity. It is an organisation rooted in anti-establishment politics and radical leftist ideology, in a vision of economic transformation. It is not just Malema — it is an army of ideologues, of political firebrands trained in the language of revolution.
The MKP? It is Zuma. Period. His movement is not built on ideology but on nostalgia, on cultural and emotional loyalty, particularly in KwaZulu-Natal. His people do not need policies — they need him. That is why, despite his legal battles, despite his history of corruption scandals, he remains untouchable. His strength is not in the structure of his party but in the unwavering belief of his followers that he is the only one who sees their pain.
This is the real tragedy for Malema. He has always believed in the power of ideas. But Zuma has proven that in South African politics, personal loyalty will almost always trump ideology.
They say “be kind to those you meet on your way up” because you may meet them “on your way down.” That, right there, is Zuma’s gospel. He has played the game long enough to know that power is not about righteousness — it is about endurance.
So far, both men have fulfilled the prophecies of their names. But the real question is — who will rewrite theirs first?
For opinion and analysis consideration, email Opinions@timeslive.co.za
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