The new chief of the SANDF once fought Unita and had to put down an ANC revolt
'I can only promise that I will do my utmost, my best, to serve the country'
WE MEET in Lieutenant-General Godfrey Nhlanhla Ngwenya's office out in Valhalla on the outskirts of Pretoria - big, but true to military form, somewhat sparse.
The office has a massive desk - over which his 1.87m frame towers even when he sits. Attached is a large, rectangular, dark wooden boardroom table. Some military paraphernalia adorn the wall, but there is nothing of a personal nature around his office, nothing that says he has a wife and four children.
So, the eye is drawn back to the man behind the desk, the man who seems big in heart and girth.
Ngwenya says he has been humbled by his appointment. "It's a serious responsibility. I can only promise that I will do my utmost, my best, to serve the country."
Ngwenya says his appointment as chief of the SA National Defence Force came as a complete surprise. But it shouldn't have: as Chief of Joint Operations since January 2001, he has been centrally involved with the country's successful peacekeeping operations in Burundi and the Democratic Republic of Congo, among others. Nonetheless, he is, in his own words, "under no illusions".
Ngwenya has been a military man for a long time. He and six friends left their homes in Soweto in 1976 to join the ANC's military wing, Umkhonto weSizwe (MK). He was 26 years old.
It was, he says, one of the most difficult decisions he has had to make.
His mother was a teacher, his father a labourer. He was the eldest of seven children and felt responsible for his siblings.
But he also felt he had no choice.
"I was a clerk at the Baragwanath Hospital at the time of the uprisings. All those who were injured ... we saw them. I could not stomach what I saw. We thought we must do something. So we left the country," he says of himself and his friends.
On the day they left, Ngwenya and his friends went to work as they usually did, but never returned home. He left a note for his mother, saying only that he was gone. He thought she would understand, but he never saw her again to know for sure.
Using false names - Ngwenya's was Timothy Mokoena - the group made it to Botswana, and then travelled to Tanzania via Zambia.
In Botswana, Ngwenya and his friends were given new names and identity documents with which to enter Tanzania.
"Snuki Zikalala [now managing director of SABC news and current affairs], who was based in Botswana then, gave us long Swahili names. We did not know the language and couldn't even pronounce the names.
"So when we got to Tanzania, and they were asking for so-and-so, we did not respond. Luckily, some members of the ANC arrived to meet us and sorted things out," he says, bellowing with laughter. "At least Timothy I could remember."
Then he turns serious again, as he directs his mind to the past.
Angola had just gained its independence from Portugal and its first president, Augustinho Neto, had invited the ANC to set up training camps in the country. Ngwenya was part of a group which left for Angola shortly after the invitation from Neto.
"It was difficult. We went to Angola while the remnants of the war continued. We only wanted to get training camps in order to get ready and come back to South Africa. I was one of those who really wanted to come back and to fight here, so I received my training, in the Soviet Union and in the then East Germany."
But Ngwenya was not to return home for a long time. After training he returned to Angola, where government forces were engaged in a civil war with Jonas Savimbi's South African-backed Unita.
Ngwenya was ordered to stay in Angola and train MK soldiers to infiltrate South Africa. Rising through the ranks quickly, Ngwenya became a camp commander, regional chief of staff and, finally, commander of MK in Angola in 1983.
It was never the ANC's intention to get involved in the Angolan civil war, Ngwenya says, but he and his men were drawn into the battle when Unita began attacking ANC bases in 1978 and when the Angolan government asked for help.
As regional commander, Ngwenya was given the go-ahead by the ANC to help the Angolan government forces.
He bears the scars of a bullet he took in the leg during a Unita ambush in 1988.
He was at the centre of controversy during his tenure as regional commander when his troops mutinied in 1984. The mutiny was prompted, to a great extent, by the troops' unhappiness with MK's involvement in the Angolan war.
It still seems to irk Ngwenya that the mutiny at Camp 13 took place on his watch. Elements of the MK and ANC leadership were subsequently accused of brutality while breaking the uprising.
Ngwenya says he has no regrets about the way he handled it.
"When there is a mutiny, there can be only one solution to it - and that is to suppress it militarily. As commander, what do you do when there is a camp under mutiny? What do you do? I had to install the authority of the camp. And that is what we did."
After the 1988 Unita attack, while recovering in a Moscow hospital, ANC president Oliver Tambo appointed Ngwenya to the MK High Command and to the ANC national executive committee.
He returned to South Africa in 1990 and officially joined the new SANDF in 1994, after being part of the ANC team which helped prepare for an integrated South African army.
Refusing to comment on specific challenges until he formally takes office next month, when General Siphiwe Nyanda leaves, Ngwenya says he knows he will have to focus on ensuring the force is combat-ready and trained to conduct peacekeeping operations.
The growing demand for South Africa to contribute to peacekeeping operations in Africa also poses challenges, he says. "We have to make our forces combat-ready, by getting some younger people into the defence force, for example, so they may be deployed at any time."
But Ngwenya faces an altogether different spectre. He is one of 27 senior ANC members not granted amnesty by the former Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
The commission said that because he and the others applied for amnesty as leaders who took responsibility for their troops' actions, this fell outside the commission's brief.
But Ngwenya is unafraid. "I didn't find any reason to apply for amnesty at first. I felt I had done nothing to warrant me applying. I was not one of the people who entered South Africa to take part in operations here. But eventually I did apply, saying that as a commander, I take full responsibility for anything that might have been done by my soldiers under my command."
Ngwenya says he is not sure whether the matter has been resolved, and whether he has been cleared.
At any rate, he seems to have won the respect of those he works with, including members of the former SADF.
They say he is a disciplinarian, a "stickler for punctuality and the like".
An old friend of Ngwenya's - who went to school with him at Orlando High School in Soweto and left the country with him - says the same thing. "Even among ourselves, when we left as friends, we knew that if anything was wrong, he would be the first to reprimand us and we knew we had to stop what we were doing," says Commissioner Bransby Luke of the police's Protection and Security division.
Not much then, it seems, has changed about the SANDF chief-designate over the years.