Johannesburg- One autumn day while sitting on the terrace of her home in the Druid Hills neighbourhood of Atlanta in the US, a woman saw a short cassock-wearing black man walking by, his hands folded behind the back.
He must have felt her curious eyes boring into him. He stopped and greeted the woman. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed when she realised who he was. “No Mam, I am not God, I am Bishop Tutu from South Africa.”
After my guest lecture at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology in 2001, the woman herself told me this story. In many countries where I have lectured or attended conferences, I have seldom failed to find people or communities with stories of encounters with Desmond Tutu. Many such encounters are hilarious.
I was at the German Kirchentag Festival in Cologne in 2007 when Tutu narrated his own version of how God created humans.
I paraphrase: Apparently, in the first attempt, God left the moulded clay figures way too long in the furnace. The result was black people.
In the second attempt, God removed the clay figures too quickly from the oven. The result was the pale-looking, half-baked fellows we call white people.
“Neither the blacks nor the whites are perfect, we were all born with factory faults, you see,” said Tutu to an audience roaring with laughter.
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Tutu leaves us a legacy so rich and nuanced it does not lend itself to easy summation and categorisation. Inside that diminutive body was housed the remarkable roles of mystic, confessor, prophet, public speaker, theologian, bishop, social justice activist, defender of the LGBTIQ+ rights, advocate for women’s rights, anti-racism activist, preacher, and more.
And he did it all in one lifetime.
Armed with his belief that human beings are bearers of the image of God and with his principle of umntu ngumntu ngabantu, Tutu was the ultimate advocate for human dignity.
One of the richest, cross-cutting and most fascinating dimensions of his legacy lies in his riveting story-telling techniques. His stories, often plundered from the Bible, were served in a repertoire of wit, humour, and an intoxicating turn of phrase. Think of the phrase “rainbow people of God”.
As well as telling our story to the world, Tutu personified the story he told – the story of a people torn apart by bigotry, racism, sexism and economic greed.
The settlement called Makoeteng, where Tutu was born outside Klerksdorp was located in a place that used to be a concentration camp for Africans during the Anglo-Boer War.
Unfortunately, Makoeteng was destroyed by the apartheid government in the 1950s. While the Sesotho word “lekoete” means a dry lump of clay, it is also the slang word for a piece of “diamond” acquired or sold illegally.
In a manner of speaking, Tutu was born an “illegal diamond” in a lowly place of suffering.
In his childhood, Tutu was afflicted by the diseases of the poor. While coughing blood with tuberculosis at Rietfontein Hospital, he prayed: “Well, God if I’m going to die it’s OK. And if not, that’s OK too.”
Having already witnessed the demise of his older brother Sipho and his younger brother Thamsanqa, he knew that death was real.
In his lifetime, Tutu witnessed much pain and devastation: the installation of the apartheid regime, destruction of Sophiatown, Sharpeville massacre, Soweto students uprising, the death of Steve Biko, the banning of the PAC and the ANC and their leaders thrown into jail.
Demanding the release of political prisoners, Tutu campaigned hard, at home and abroad, against an apartheid regime that threw everything at him. However, even the most strident of his speeches had two familiar characteristics: humorous storytelling and a vision for a just and beautiful country South Africa could be.
Tutu danced and sang the stories.
Despite the recent setbacks of state capture, the arrogance of power of some among us, the Marikana massacre, PPE corruption, the spurning of the Dalai Lama by democratic South Africa, and the July looting spree. Wherever he is, I think Tutu was pleased with his efforts overall. And so is God.
In my mind’s eye, I see him dancing his way into heaven, just like he did at the Fifa World Cup concert on June 10 2010. On stage, he grabs the microphone from St Peter. He issues his characteristic high-pitched laugh. And then he proceeds to tell the most beautiful story ever.
- Professor Maluleke is principal and vice-chancellor-designate: Tshwane University of Technology
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