Joining the National Zoological Gardens in February 1985 posed a number of challenges for me. These included developing one of the best animal collections in the world; extending as far as possible the landlocked boundaries; establishing a dynamic master plan and finally, managing a staff complement through the most daunting and intimidating political period our country had ever experienced.
In the mid-80s there was a growing demand throughout the world to release socialist rights activist and political icon Nelson Mandela, who spent a total of 27 years in jail. This resulted in increased hostility between the different race groups, not only whites on blacks but even blacks on blacks and whites on whites.
The ruling government was on its knees, as sanctions and international isolation made it increasingly difficult to manage the country. Protest, demonstrations and murders became an everyday occurrence; crime increased to unprecedented heights.
Within this scenario, one had to manage a staff complement with widely differing views. Staff unrest could quickly erupt, with devastating results. It was almost a replica of the 1976 Soweto uprising when I became director of the Johannesburg Zoo, so in some ways I was prepared to face various scenarios.
Although the establishment of trade unions dates back to the early 1880s, most of these unions largely represented white workers.
The first union to represent black workers dates back to 1917, but many of the subsequent trade unions and political organisations were banned by the previous government, such as the ANC, which only drove them underground.
To many white people, unions representing predominantly black workers created a sense of fear and apprehension. In 1985 there was no union representing any of the staff at the National Zoological Gardens, neither black nor white.
I have never engaged in active politics and have always demonstrated the greatest respect for people who share this world of ours, regardless of their race, gender, religion, culture, or even what they eat (most of the time). So, I became acutely aware of the division between black and white staff at the zoo.
The white component could easily make contact with my office through senior staff, but the coloured staff were in limbo. To address this issue, I announced the establishment of a Workers Committee for our black staff. At that stage we had six definable departments.
Two committee members were elected by their colleagues from each department. I chaired all meetings but had no voting rights. The committee met on a monthly basis in the boardroom – this was the first time most of them had ever sat in the boardroom.
Although some of my white colleagues expressed their unhappiness with this arrangement, I persevered and achieved a tremendous amount of goodwill and loyalty. For the first time management could listen to their aspirations, or even frustrations and seek solutions.
This resulted in the black colleagues giving me the nickname Mlungisi, which in isiZulu means ‘He who makes things better’. Meetings with the committee continued on a monthly basis until early 1993.
In 1993 Silas Baloyi, General Secretary of the South African Health and Public Service Workers Union, approached employees at the National Zoo and, without exception, all the black staff joined this union. We took it for granted that many were forced to join under protest, as warnings by the union of punitive actions if they refused came to our attention.
At that stage the National Zoo fell under the operation of the Cultural Institutions Act 29 of 1969. This meant that the Labour Relations Act 28 of 1956, was not applicable to employees of the National Zoo. It was consequently clear that unions actively recruiting staff as members were acting prematurely, as such rights were only conferred later.
It implied that no union could organise, represent or collectively bargain on behalf of members, because the Labour Relations Act was not applicable to the employer-employee relationship. Despite numerous meetings where the situation was painfully explained to the union, both the message and messenger were rejected as false.
The union relied on a document of dubious origin, and the elected shop stewards fully endorsed the view of the union. At that stage we decided to recruit the services of Lukas Coetzee, an independent Labour Relations Specialist.
Meetings were convened in my office, but it soon became evident that the union members had no intention of resolving any labour issue, as the agenda was purely political, fuelled largely by the political unrest in the country.
What was happening at the National Zoo was primarily a mirror image of unrest across all of SA. We faced a completely new management style and warnings of bomb explosions and serious unrest throughout the country dominated negotiations.
I recall that the zoo arranged a morning workshop for all the staff, preparing them to identify unknown objects and to alert management immediately. We were a popular tourist destination, gathering large crowds during public holidays and weekends – a perfect target and an ideal place to carry out acts of violence to create fear and terror, which was an overriding mission of the radical factions.
Even the slightest unrest in the zoo could negatively impact our visitor numbers, the lifeline for our budget. This was also the time that citizens were warned to prepare for the worst ever conflict and people were urged to store food and other necessities in the event of total disorder.
We could not separate ourselves from the attitude dominating the rest of the country, which made negotiations with the union so much more difficult. The unions demonstrated an increasingly aggressive stance, and the spirit of the negotiations was bordering on overthrowing the management, to make the zoo unmanageable.
It required extraordinary self-confidence and unsurpassed tolerance beyond reasonable limits. If we failed, we would face grave consequences. In short, the level of negotiations bordered on creating anarchy in the workplace and the enforcement of transformation.
We knew that this was not on the agenda of our loyal staff; it was forced upon them, over which we had no control. It became increasingly difficult to continue with day-to-day management of the zoo and this is best explained by a staff member, Adam Themane, who expressed himself as follows: ‘Now they (the employees) have decided to get on the tiger and have to ride him without an opportunity to get off again.’
That same Adam, after resigning from the zoo a few years later, started his own labour union and was brutally murdered. His hands were tied behind his back and he was executed.
The prospect of almost 70% of our staff walking out on us burdened management with a challenge never encountered before.
This involved not simply switching the machine off and closing the door for business or simply displaying a notice: ‘Gone fishing. Back on Monday.’ We had a multitudinous collection of animals to attend to. How do you explain this to animals that require 24/7 attention? People will get hurt. Similar to a moth circling a flame, flying closer and closer until it burns to death. Who will be the sacrificial lamb?
When the union submitted their proposed wage bill and other demands, the meeting ended in a deadlock. The union subsequently called for an immediate strike, and on October 8 1993 (my birthday of all days) our entire black staff walked out.
I was attending a meeting elsewhere and on my way to the zoo received a call from Johann Lambrechts warning me to avoid the usual entrance to the zoo. Disorderly strikers were dancing and blocking the traffic at the main entrance to the zoo, with hordes of security police trying to control a fanatical crowd...
All the excellent relations previously nurtured disappeared, and the so-called ‘Mlungisi’ no longer existed. Management had to face the music and correct procedures were required to handle this wild horse, or tiger, as Adam Themane called it. Three written ultimatums for the strikers to return to work were issued to the union and shop stewards, but all of them were ignored.
This resulted in immediate dismissal of all strikers. We realised that the strikers represented a small percentage of employees so arrangements were made to fetch willing ‘strikers’ to return to the zoo. This was achieved by tinting the windows of our combispitch black, making the passengers invisible. This carried on for a few days until one worker was clubbed to death in a nearby public toilet. We immediately discontinued these retrieval activities, as we could not expose our loyal workers to this harassment. We were now facing a completely new challenge: We still had to feed and manage close to 9,000 animals on a daily basis.
Our public relations department placed a full-page advertisement in the local newspaper requesting assistance from anyone willing to help us in caring for our animals. The response was overwhelming. Scout clubs, Voortrekkers, private individuals, and friends of the zoo turned up in their hundreds.
Every volunteer was offered a hamburger and Coke for their services. The response was awe-inspiring and after a few days we even had to turn new volunteers away. The zoo had never been so clean and, somehow, we all had fun.
Some councillors even turned up to show their solidarity and that was when Dr Erasmus, a senior councillor who assisted in the gorilla enclosure, received a slap of faeces by a gorilla, all over his white shirt – but he took it in his stride. The mood amongst the volunteers was electrifying; singing and dancing, and I then knew we would overcome this precarious situation.
Meanwhile the strikers, through the union, commenced with legal action against the zoo management for ‘illegal dismissal’. We had to win this case, as I certainly did not look forward to working with a large number of disgruntled staff if they returned to the zoo. As the Industrial Court (later to be called the Labour Court) had no jurisdiction on the matter, it was referred to the High Court. The lawyers representing the union knew they were not on solid legal footing and suggested the matter be resolved by way of a financial settlement.
It was agreed that the National Zoological Gardens would pay a lump sum to the union members as a settlement. Their legal team was responsible for the distribution amongst their clients. Shortly after Nelson Mandela became the first democratically elected president of South Africa, the striking members used the opportunity to approach the president’s office to complain that they had not received any payout. After studying the case, the president’s office advised them that the zoo had reacted within its legal rights and they should refer the matter back to the union representative. A few years later I received a call from the president’s office claiming that there was a group of disgruntled ex-employees demanding the agreed compensation which they had never received. We concluded that the legal team in all probability had neglected their responsibility to transfer funds to the strikers. We again referred them to their legal team for their reply. We never heard from them again.
The previously loyal staff were reappointed; different unions came on board and regular monthly meetings were convened with union representatives and elected shop stewards. Wages and other benefits were negotiated, and things returned to normal. We never had a strike again, at least not during my time at the zoo.
This is an extract from Of Man and Beast: Further Reflections on a Life Lived with Animals by Willie Labuschagne. Published by Tracey McDonald Publishers
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