/ 26 May 2000

The Cape’s mother of education

Marianne Merten

Western Cape MEC for Education Helen Zille practises her Xhosa speech en route to open a computer room in Khayelitsha township. A last-minute call to a language teacher clarifies pronun- ciation and grammar as her driver Ishmael Hendricks negotiates the shack-lined roads and barely held together minibus taxis.

Intlanganiso Senior Secondary School – recipient of the computers for improving its matric pass rate by almost a third – is the seventh school visit that day. Zille and Hendricks have already spent seven hours on the road.

The word “mother” comes up a few times during the day to describe Zille. She is called uMam uZille in Khaye-litsha. “Like your mommy looks after you, Mrs Zille looks after education”, is how one Cape Flats primary school principal describes her.

For many who have crossed swords with Zille, this is not a description which usually comes to mind; brusque and outspoken is. Another of her nicknames is “Godzille”.

Department of Edu-cation officials admit they have to be on their toes to keep up with Zille’s hands-on approach, which means she knows where desks are missing, how overcrowded classrooms are and where fake report cards are sold. And she has put the provincial security staff on red alert a few times over the past 11 months when she jumped in her car alone at night to check out safety measures at township schools.

There is widespread respect for this intense woman in charge of edu-cation. Educators and opposition politicians may disagree with the principles of her political home, the Democratic Party, but acknowledge her determination “to make noise”, raise awareness at grassroots level and “get things done”.

Zille is no stranger to ruffling feathers. She and her national boss have frequently not seen eye to eye. Teachers’ unions still smart at the memory of the court battle they lost over redeployment when she chaired the Grove Primary School governing body. And many journalists remember her acerbic tongue and overpowering efficiency when dealing with her while she was in charge of communication at the University of Cape Town.

This day starts late, a little after 7am. Hendricks is the driver, timekeeper and unofficial organiser throughout the day. Red and yellow cards are at hand to remind the minister she is running late or must make a 30-second exit now!

While Hendricks drives, Zille listens to her cellphone messages. A tip-off about school closures due to gang violence in Tafelsig, Mitchells Plain, leads to a reshuffling of the day’s programme.

“You know, I thought having a driver is too gravey-trainish,” she says, and grins. “Now it’s the best thing. I turn this place into an office. I write all my speeches in the car. I read documents.”

While there are some bruised toes among her own party colleagues, the former political journalist from the Rand Daily Mail has not lost her suss. Asked about her political future, Zille dismisses speculation she may be the next party leader. “Tony [Leon] is a very astute, good, strategic leader,” she says, adding she could not do as good a job.

She wants to remain education MEC, “if re- elected”, to finish the job of “providing public education which enjoys public confidence”, although this could take 15 years. Her parents, who lost everything when they left Germany, instilled a passion for education. “My father told me: ‘What’s in your head, people can’t take away’.” That is the message she takes to schools from down- trodden Bishop Lavis to leafy Bishop’s Court.

It took Zille a long time to stop missing journalism. She is perhaps most famous for challenging then minister of welfare and population development Lapa Munnik to live on the amount he claimed possible for pensioners, R20 a month.

It is this tendency to challenge orthodoxy, linked to an enthusiasm for creative thinking, that Zille takes with her on visits to schools in the Cape.

The first stopover is Bellville South High, where she watches pupils arrive. At Erica Primary School in Belhar a delicate purple orchid arrangement homegrown by the principal captures her heart. Later at Belhar Senior Secondary School, Zille thanks teachers for their hard work and diplomatically dashes hopes for a larger staff room, a seminar room and extra sports equipment.

“My aim is running water and electricity in all schools,” she explains. “My aim is to focus on academic achievement to give kids tools for life.”

Flushing toilets in all of the Western Cape’s schools are also high on the agenda. But there are strings attached: if a school does not look after them – in one case pupils smashed the bowls – then there is no replacement.

This is the Zille philosophy: effort + results = rewards. At schools it is always the same protocol: prefects greet Zille outside and present a flower arrangement; there is a tour and, later, tea in the principal’s office.

“In the normal course of events I drink many cups of tea,” Zille jokes. It is the scones and snacks that are harder to handle; she admits she has put on weight in the past months.

Principals and teachers seem to relate to the easy manner in which she talks about her 88-year-old father and her high cholesterol, and puts education policies into plain language. They respond to the obvious joy she shows for school-initiated projects, from peer counselling and water pumps to freshly painted roofs and creative entrance halls.

On her impromptu visits to Tafelsig, principals brief her on gang violence, how the Safer Schools Project protects pupils and teachers alike, and the good work of the neighbourhood watches.

But her face distorts in disgust when one principal pulls out a plastic bag with two unfired .38 Special Revolver bullets the pupils picked up last week.

Yet there is also time to check out the wilting cabbages at Yellow Wood Primary as the community vegetable garden project is battling to flourish.

Zille says she wants principals to feel comfortable enough to contact her via e- mail through the new communication network. Computers at schools and 21st century technology are her soft spot. Recently Helen.com has been added to her numerous nicknames.

The day is far from over. After meeting a delegation from crisis- ridden Hex River Primary School in Worcester, she is off to a DP meeting.

Some months Zille and her driver clock up 220 hours of overtime. Her husband and two young sons are supportive and even laugh at her new job. Once someone telephoned their home and asked to speak to the mini- ster. “Oh, you mean my mum,” said her youngest son.