”Robert who?” asks the woman behind the security counter at the entrance to the City of Cape Town’s offices. ”Macdonald. Mayor Zille’s spokesman.”
The same happens outside the lifts on the sixth floor. Only the magic word ”Zille” finally elicits a nod and a wave towards her office.
While everyone is now clearly accustomed to seeing Cape Town Mayor Helen Zille in the building, they are still not sure about the smartly dressed young man with the trimmed goatee and sideburns generally somewhere in her orbit.
Journalists may recall him from the Democratic Alliance’s media office or from his short stint with DA leader Tony Leon, but most Capetonians have only seen Robert Macdonald’s name in print. He makes it there almost daily, commenting on a variety of issues relating to the city or Zille’s office.
It is quite a responsibility for a 29-year-old, so she clearly trusts him.
Macdonald was deployed as Zille’s media officer during the March local election and has stuck around ever since.
In the frenetic early days the African National Congress mistakenly referred to him as ”Ronald McDonald”, the macabre clown who fronts for the fast food chain.
”Yes, everyone seems to get it wrong,” Macdonald says opening the door to a small office metres from the mayor’s, which once belonged to his predecessor, the controversial Blackman Ngoro.
It is a rather bland, official- looking space: desk, computer, shelves full of files and a pile of newspapers on a small boardroom table. A small stack of frames left by Ngoro remains propped behind the door. Among them is an official portrait of a portly, beaming Jacob Zuma.
Now there are no pictures, no personal knick-knacks to hint at the character of the man who probably spends more time with Zille than her husband. ”I haven’t had time,” he says, explaining the lack of decor.
Zille is notorious for her punishing work schedule, which often start at 7am and ends more than 12 hours later.
”She has too much to do. Her days are full; even her nights. I don’t know when she gets time to eat. Actually, sometimes she forgets to,” he says.
It is, he says, a pace he thrives on — although he admits to collapsing when he gets home.
The most unexpected thing to emerge from our interview is that despite being the Johannesburg-born and raised son of English immigrants, Macdonald is a devout Muslim. ”I don’t need a Muslim name; it ‘s not necessary. Some people feel it’s important, I don’t,” he says with a polite smile.
He converted two years ago, although he believes the process is ongoing. He prays regularly but only wears his kufia (skullcap) to mosque for Friday prayers.
His fiancÃ