Reflections on five years in Parliament (Part 2)

LES LABUSCHAGNE  MP

DIPLOMATIC DIGRESSIONS : OR OOPS

My first assignment was at the SA Embassy, Vienna, in May 1969 with the exalted rank of Third Secretary.  The only lower rank in the Foreign Service was that of Vice Consul!  Third Secretary also does not necessary mean that there is a First or Second Secretary.  I was the general dog’s body doing everything from political reporting, admin, accounts, visas to counting the silver teaspoons at the Ambassadors Residence.

At that stage our Embassy consisted of two Missions, one accredited to Austria and secondly to the International Atomic Energy Agency AEA.  One of the more effective UN agencies as the constitution, in which Don Sole I believed played a major part in drafting, balanced strict technical requirements for membership of the Board of Governors with political requirements for the rest.

Within days of my arrival there was a scare in that the Ambassador’s daughter had allegedly been kidnapped – she wasn’t and he had been appointed a Government Minister and had to return to South Africa.  She apparently was not keen to return.

This of course caused some alarm with the Counsellor (Kurt von S) who was due to go on leave, and had organized a yacht cruise with his family among the Greek isles.  Spurred by the specter of cancellations he exercised all his considerable diplomatic skills to persuade Head Office that the Embassy could safely be left in my sole charge.  He later went on to a most distinguished career which proves his persuasive skills!

Thus after six weeks I was in charge as charge d’affaires ad interim.  This doesn’t mean that I was in charge of the fairies as some deputy Minister, who shall remain unnamed, confusedly thought.

Of course when you are in charge all that can happen is that you can get into trouble.  You are expected to see that nothing goes wrong, you get no money and if something goes wrong it is assumed to be your fault!  There was however one perk.  I could use the ambassador’s car for any official duties.  Ambassador cars had special plates and we were WD001.

One of the tasks of the Third Secretary was the diplomatic pouch.  This object shrouded by mystery and speculation by many authors, was, in my case a very dirty, stout canvass bag which could contain the average piece of carry on luggage.  I had to take and fetch the incoming one every week personally from the pilot of the conveying aircraft.

Airport security in the late 1960’s was not like today and I knew my way around.  I always arranged with the taxi to be dropped off at the VIP entrance and dashed up back and side stairs.

As Chargé, I could use the Ambassadors car.  I duly told the driver to go to the VIP entrance.  As we swept down and around the corner we stopped at a red carpet surrounded by soldiers, police and extremely well dressed persons of obvious status.

When the car stopped, uniforms saluted, well dressed straightened up and began looking plussed and a senior gentleman flung open the door with a “Gruss Gott, Excellency”.

I, baby faced, bespectacled coke bottle glasses!, holding a great big canvass bag emerged, nodded and walked along the red carpet.  That was the first time I realised what non plussed looked like – after entry I scuttled up the nearest staircase.

I later learnt the crowd were expecting the King of Saudi Arabia.  On later reflection I recalled Churchill once commenting that “An empty taxi drew up at 10 Downing Street, and Clement Attlee got out”.

Having dispatched my diplomatic pouch I then received my first invitation to a reception (fancy name for a cocktail party).  Coming from Molteno I had never been to a cocktail party and here was an engraved invitation “Monsieur L Labuschagne, charge’d’Affairs a.i. Ambassade Afrique du Sud.  Nogal.  I still have it.

Duly armed with the card, into WD001, I arrived at a palace.  This was an eye-opener, chandeliers, gilt etc.  As I slowly moved around the various groups I discovered to my horror that everyone was speaking German.  Why not, it was Austria.

Now at that stage, the government didn’t believe in language training, it was up to you at your own expense.  My German consisted of “Gruss Gott, Ein Grosses bier vom fass, (large draft).  WC (If you had the first, you need the second!) and auf wiedersehn. 

Then suddenly, across a crowded room, I saw a lonely solitary individual, I hurried across, “Deutsch”, I said with a quizzical interrogative smile.  A head shook, Labuschagne I said extending my hand, grasped, a long Spanish name followed by Uruguay.  He couldn’t speak German either.  What a relief, short lived.  He couldn’t speak English, let alone Afrikaans.  Now we were stuck.  So standing side by side we engaged in ocular oscillation of the room for the next 24 hours.  I would oscillate to the left and he to the right, our eyes would meet in the middle, smile, toast and take a “sluk”. 

Of course you later learn the art of diplomatic extrication which is made easier if you and your wife form a team.  So I leave you with a cocktail tip.

Beware of the solitary individual, their might just be a good reason why he is thus.

The second digressions relate to my last posting in China 1992 to 1996.  I decided that as the major Western economies had got in first in the established Special Economic Zones that I should explore business opportunities in the more neglected inland provinces.  I persuaded some South African banks and businesses located in Hong Kong to join me in a visit to the interior.  We met in Chengdu in the Sizuan Province where we boarded a “Lucky 7” aeroplane.  This 20 odd seater looked like a biplane without the bottom wing.  The seat backs could move backwards or forwards to accommodate, I suppose those coming or going.  I never found out because at the conclusion of our visit to Panzhihua we were told that we could not fly out as the Communist Party had commandeered the plane to attend a congress.  Now we know where Comrade Bob Mugabe got his ideas from.

Our hosts however had booked us on an overnight train.  My wife, self, my no two Iaan Basson and Claude Pearce from Nedbank occupied the one compartment with the Hong Kong group in the other, next to the Chinese gang, i.e. guard, conductor, police and army.

Having consumed our box lunches kindly provided by our hosts we gathered the debris carefully and I asked Iaan to ask the Chinese how we could dispose of same.  He returned with a bemused broad smile.  He went to the guards’ compartment and asked what to do.  The female guard said no problem, took the parcel and chucked it out of the open window.  I suppose that it was bio-degradable.

One of the customs of the African Embassies located in Beijing was for all of us to gather on New Year’s eve for party which culminated in dancing.  This entailed us forming a large dancing circle with two persons then performing solo dances in the middle.  They then would move and touch one of the other dancers who would then take their place to do his or her solo in the centre.

On our way home my wife informed me that every time I danced in the middle all the little black kids virtually rolled on the ground in mirth at my gyrations.

I must confess that I was pretty miffed as I thought I moved with a certain gazelle like elegance.  After all, any Afrikaner whose family had been in South Africa for over 280 years must have acquired a rhythmic gene along the way.  Let’s park this for a moment.

I decided to visit the province of Xinyang, the North West Province bordering on Pakistan, Kirgizstan, Usbekistan.  This province had a predominantly Muslim population which was restless.

After visiting the ancient city of Kashgar, on the old silk road, we went to the ancient city of Yarkand as I had expressed an interest in agriculture.  This city was irrigated by underground channels or Karezes carrying water miles underground.

I call this visit the desert snowball.

We crossed part of the Gobi desert and started the visit.  On arrival the next morning we found a long bus awaiting my party of my wife, self, second secretary, interpreter, Chinese official and our silent partner who I later ascertained was a Chinese KGB equivalent body guard.  We visited the Mayor, the Agricultural authorities and at each stop the bus got fuller and fuller and we collected first one then a second police car.  

About midday we came to our last meeting, a local farmer.  By this time I was famished and thank goodness there were bowls of fruit, which I welcomed both on the grounds of courtesy and hunger.  I was then given a bowl of thick vegetable soup and fortified, was ready to face the Gobi and return to Kashgar.  Bidding goodbye to mine host I was then told we were now going to lunch!

Our entourage which now consisted of a full bus, two police cars and another then came to a stop at a vineyard.

On the road between the vines we found a small dance floor, a three piece band, a single woman and an elderly gentleman with a long white beard wearing a long white nightshirt and a Muslim cap who welcomed us.  Our group ensconced ourselves on the blankets, the band played.

I was given a skewer with five small roasted bits  -  thank goodness not too heavy a meal   -  however on close inspection were deep fried pigeon heads.  .

When I declined a second helping but suggested that my wife would be delighted to oblige. You know, it’s amazing what long memories women have.

This was followed by a bowl of colourless liquid and fist sized chunks of meat.  The colourless liquid helped enormously.

In China one never drinks alone at will.  Most impolite.  You therefore if you wish to drink would catch someone’s eye, raise glasses in a toast and quaff.  Unfortunately every time I looked up I caught the eye of one of the six persons sitting opposite me and I quaffed, and quaffed.

By now the musicians sang a song.  Roughly translated was that although we are Muslims and do not drink, we welcome guests from afar and therefore we can drink to their health.  These guys obviously loved having guests hence the bus and police cars.

We now discovered that the purpose of the single female was to dance with my wife.  Then it was my turn with my dance partner for the banquet, namely the guy with the night shirt.  Well we danced under the vines watched on the other side of the dance floor by a goodly selection of the village, children and women who would move closer, then someone would shoo them away, but not for long.  I have never seen such dusty kids in my life, but then even the water in the irrigation channels was dusty.

A solitary inspection of the vines revealed a half skinned sheep being lightly roasted for second helpings and then it was time to go.  We left our desert snowball behind and our tiny group crossed the Gobi to catch our plane back from Kashgar to Urumqi.

The flight being quite uneventful apart from the pilot’s dilemma whether to turn back due to a possible fuel shortage but when we got halfway the question became academic while I reflected on the uncomplicated hospitality of my trip to Yarkand.

Of course after returning to Beijing and later viewing the video of me and my dancing partner, I must sadly confess that I do not have a rhythmic gene in my DNA.
   

Reflection on five years in Parliament (Part 1)

Les Labuschagne (DALE 1955 – 59)

On midnight, 22 April 2009 I ceased to be a Member of Parliament after  five interesting and sometimes frustrating years.

Due to family reasons I decided not to stand for Parliament in Cape Town, but rather make myself available for the Gauteng Provincial Legislature which meant living at home (Pretoria).  Fortunately I was elected and I thus embarked on my third political career out of the usual sync.  The traditional “cursus honorum” (for those who had Mr. Searle for Latin) being City Council, Provincial Legislature and finally Parliament.

When I was originally elected I thought of another ex -Molteno old Dalian who had preceded me to Parliament, albeit a number of years prior, namely Jack Wainwright, MP who originally, in the late 1950’s, had stimulated my interest in politics.

Parliament as I had originally envisaged it had changed, no longer emulating the Westminster system. Our original Chamber was based on the House of Commons from layout : same green benches with the “table” separating Government and Opposition.  The intimacy of the historic chamber of about 180 members had been replaced by a modern large chamber of 400 seats which, due to TV, we are more familiar with.  The old Assembly Chamber, scene of history and drama, declaration of war, assassination and resignation is now a place of ghosts although still used on occasion as a committee, informal prayer or meeting room.

I did consider it a privilege to make my maiden speech in this Chamber during an extended committee on the Foreign Affairs budget and, speaking from the traditional Leader of the Opposition’s seat facing the Minister, at least gave me a feel of what it was like in the days of my original aspirations.

Post 1994 our democracy has now an expanded franchise and a Parliament for 40 million (not 4 million) as in the past, resulting in a current House of 400 MPs.  No longer predominantly elderly white males wearing dark suits, but a kaleidoscope of colour (physical and attire),language culture, religion and a goodly number of women.     

Unfortunately the exuberance of the new democracy, while vocal in terms of clapping, singing (on occasion) and attire, did not result in a correspondingly  high quality of debate.  In fact,sadly, there is no real debate.  Speeches are now read from the rostrum (sometimes read with all the amazement of someone seeing a road map for the first time in his/her life).  Previously it was forbidden to read a speech, now it is de rigueur; spontaneity is lost.

The House did of course sometimes have lighter moments and the current resident humorous character was  Koos van der Merwe of the IFP, also the longest serving MP.  His classic bon mots included ,on being asked by the Speaker to withdraw a remark, answered, “Madam, I will always withdraw if you ask me”.  Koos also got into trouble for smuggling a cake with one long candle into the House to designate the anniversary of his request for an appointment with President Mbeki which was still outstanding. 

The Deputy Speaker lost it during exchanges and Koos was kicked out. The size of the massive chamber of course inhibits clever interjections.  You really have to shout, and that venerable tradition of witty exchanges - part of a great parliamentary tradition – is being eroded.  A clever interjection loses something if it has to be bellowed.

Apart from the front benches accommodating two persons, the back benches are very long, accommodating about 12 MPs.  Mine had a slight broken spring that was never fixed.  The compensation was that for part of the term I was forced “hip to hip” with an attractive benchmate, but less so after she was replaced with a pleasant, but male MP from Limpopo! 

Sitting on the spring originally made me wonder how people could fall asleep as is often alleged by the public.  However, a long badly read monologue by an ANC Member in the late afternoon does have a soporific effect.

There were, however, interesting times. Tony Leon was always a delight to listen to.  His intelligent, well crafted, excellently delivered speeches were intently listened to even by the ANC, judging by the intense silence.  At the first debate of the 2004 Parliament when he ended by saying to President Mbeki  that we both want the same for South Africa and that the DA were opponents and not enemies, followed by going to shake Mbeki’s hand, flummoxed the ANC . They were not sure how to react and only on the second day did a Minister react and comment that a shake of a hand doesn’t mean or change anything.

There was high drama when President Mbeki announced Zuma’s sacking as Deputy President and again when he , in turn, was “redeployed”.  Tony Leon’s farewell and the tribute to Helen Suzman on her death were moving and memorable and of course the controversial “crossovers” and subsequent repeal of the Act, as well as the public chastisement of the few Travelgate (small fish) MPs as opposed to prosecution, also stand out.

The House is a place for speeches and grandstanding today.  The real work of the country is done in the Portfolio Committees, which I gather, have assumed a more powerful role than the Committees of the previous Parliaments.

It is in these Committees where public hearings are held and the public comes, whether as individuals or representing firms, organizations, to comment on Bills and make inputs, where they are heard and are questioned by Members of the Portfolio Committee.  This is where the civil servants of government Departments appear for interrogation as part of Parliamentary oversight.

It was very interesting to see during my last year, after Mbeki was deposed, how much more critical and enquiring ANC MPs had suddenly become of Departments.  Previously they often seemed to see the Department as an extension of the Minister and criticism would be tantamount to criticizing the ANC.  No doubt all this was linked to whether the relevant deployed cadres were seen as pro -Zuma or pro- Mbeki.

The establishment of COPE just before the end of 2008 and virtually no sessions between late January and March 2009 prior to the elections meant that we could not have as much fun as we could have with embarrassed MPs, who were also busy polishing their marbles and more concerned whether the Party would drop them or not.

I found that if one built up a position of mutual respect with Committee members and avoided grandstanding then one could actually get legislation changed.  The challenge was to get the majority ANC MPs to not only listen to you, but to actually hear you (or vice versa) and avoid forcing a political or ideological standoff and I did in fact succeed in amending legislation.

I served on the Trade and Industry Portfolio Committee for the full five years and considered it my main responsibility.  I also served on Foreign Affairs, Home Affairs and Labour for different periods.

Prior to 1994, Parliament sat for the traditional January to June session and wives and families all went down as also the diplomatic corps and set the Cape Town social scene.  Now Parliament sits from late January to early December and most MPs commute for the week. 

From the DA side only about three non Western Cape wives and no families spent time in Cape Town on a permanent basis. From Johannesburg to Cape Town was roughly a 4½ hour door to door journey twice a week for five years.  Now I live at home and the 67km to the legislature in Johannesburg (old City Hall) takes me not quite as long.  But I can’t wait for the finalization of the road works, and hopefully removal of the truck that is always stuck between Allendale and New roads on the N1 every day. 

Despite the up and down, boring speeches and interminable travel it was a wonderful five year experience which I shall always cherish and remain humbled at the privilege of having been a Member of Parliament.

Eli Bitzer - memories of Havana

...  and some have Greatness thrust upon them.”

In September 2006 I was p“rivileged to visit the historical city of Havana for a second time, not as a mere tourist but as a member of the South African delegation accompanying then President Thabo Mbeki as well as Deputy Foreign Minister Aziz Pahad to the XIV NAM Summit.  As the only member of the Department aside from the PA of the Deputy Minister, my responsibility was to arrange and manage all the bilaterals for both the Principal and the Deputy Minister.  

Air Iberia had chosen to keep my luggage safely for me at OR Tambo Airport, only delivering it 5 days later (day before my return flight).  Being a stranger in town, I had only managed to purchase in the hotel lobby one Cuban shirt (collar recently replaced because of frequent and fond use),   Aside from that I had taken the precaution of carrying one T-shirt and one dress shirt in my cabin bag.   This left me rushing up and down the Spanish-speaking corridors of a hot and humid Havana Conference Centre in search of other delegations to arrange bilaterals with, wearing one shirt while the other was in the hotel laundry, being readied for the next day.   And so it came to pass that I returned to my hotel room one night to realise that I had forgotten my own birthday!

One morning I was standing at the bottom of broad stairs leading up to the entrance of the hotel, waiting for transport to the Conference Centre.  I suddenly felt myself shoved against a wall as a contigent of security personnel cleared the way for what was evidently a descending dignatory, being led by an equally important personality.;  That is to say, important for those who were able to recognise them - under which I did not count.  The first was Leonel Fernandez, President of the Dominican Republic, and the second was his Forein Minister, Charles Savarin.   Suddenly the Foreign Minister, for no recognisable reason whatsoever, noted me in the crowd and abruptly started redirecting his President towards me.  Surprised delegates parted like the Red Sea, while the Foreign Minister addressed both his President and a virage of Spanish words in my direction, with hands stretched out to greet and introduce the one and only me. 

The next morning I was again approached at breakfast by Minister Savarin, this time to very politely appologise that he had confused me with our dear and very hard working colleague Louis Pienaar, then Counsellor at our Mission in Havana responsible for the Dominicanm Republic and in the process of arranging a visit for them to South Africa.   When I later relayed this adventure to Louis, he typically only smiled demurely, neither commenting on his fame nor on the fact that I had been mistaken for looking like him.

But my true story does not end here.  Of course in the process of arranging bilaterals I was privileged to see, if seldom actually meet, colourful personalities such as Raoul Castro, Hugo Chavez and Evo Morales.  The first ever female Head of Government of a Caribbean country, Prime Minister  Portia Simpson Miller of Jamaica had just assumed office (and also sadly departed from office soon after).   She had requested a bilateral with Presiden Mbeki and I had to schedule a suitable time with the Jamaican delegation seated in plenary.   As I entered the hall I realised that President Mbeki had the podium as Chair of the G77 and China Group.   But low and behold, he was addressing that great audience of Heads of State and Government using words I recognised as my own!     As NAM Desk Officer I had been told by the Presidency to draft a speech, which Adv. Pillay, the Personal Assistant, had received without any changes at all except to insert a long introduction praising Comrade President Fidel Castro, then not well enough to himself attend the Summit.  

I was literally, although unfortunately only privately, gloating in my own greatness.  Tchaikovsky’s 1812 cannons were exploding all around me.    Through the smoke of the discharge I did notice a long-legged (further extended by very high heels) and very vivacious lady also waiting in the entrance behind the rows of chairs.  Furthermore, she seemed to be observing me.  Could it be that she knew I was the writer of the speech being presented here by the same person who had equalled Martin Luther King with his “I am an African” speech ?!!   And indeed, as President Mbeki concluded, she side-stepped in my direction and transfrormed herself into a magical Jamaican mirage simply by asking me in her unmistakable accent where I was from.  

I should not have answered.  I tried to reflect much later on whether it was a Flamenco or Tango dancer descending on me (probably the first), but her response was an excited bestowing of the name “Nelson” on me and then flinging her arms around me in a manner that completely disallowed any thought of resistance.   The bilateral was arranged soon after.   Sadly, the breakaway room was full to capacity and I was not allowed a second chance.   Not much later history in Jamaica also moved on without her.  

What a privilege, as insignificant foreign affairs functionaries, to be afforded  so many opportunities to witness history and have greatness thrust upon us.

Eli

(In fond memory of departed colleague Annabel Haslop, who did know Fidel Castro).

~~o~~

A loving tribute penned by Donna in memory of her Tom (Part 2)

After his return from Turkey in 2001, Tom served as Chief Director: Latin America in the Department of Foreign Affairs from 2001 to 2003 when he retired – for 16 hours. The next day, Tom began his second career as Chief Operating Officer for the South African Institute of International Affairs (SAIIA). 

It was the perfect retirement job. It kept Tom connected to and participating in the international community and allowed him to do what he did so well: facilitating connections between people and being a living resource of information. He was always generous with his time and more than willing to aid those doing research on South Africa’s international relations.

Over the next 11 years of his “step-down retirement,” at SAIIA one of his roles would be in media relations. This gave Tom the opportunity to realize, indirectly, his early dream of becoming a radio announcer when he began to provide media commentary for numerous radio and TV channels. Later he was asked to write a weekly commentary on some international issue (under his own byline) for The New Age newspaper. 

The connections he made through working at SAIIA and his new persona as a “journalist” provided yet more opportunities to travel.

In 2006 he visited Germany as a guest of the Foreign Ministry. In 2013 he visited Hungary and Azerbaijan as a guest of their Foreign Ministries, Ireland as a tourist and France to speak at a conference in Paris held as part of the South African Weeks programme. He attended the Africa Forums of the Turkish Asia Security Research Centre (TASAM) in 2008, 2009, 2012 and 2013. He was invited by the Turkish government to attend the Prime Ministerial Media Forum in Ankara in 2102 as one of five South African journalists. He was invited to participate as a journalist in 2011 in the Israeli President’s Conference on Facing Tomorrow. 

He even dappled into the academic world. Tom lectured at the South African National Defence College, at Witwatersrand University’s Department of International Relations, and for the Foreign Service Institute of the Department of Foreign Affairs he presented a short course to South Sudanese diplomats in training at the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University in Port Elizabeth in May 2011.

He spoke on South Africa and Turkey: a long and multifaceted relationship at the International Society for Cultural History at Monash University in Johannesburg in 27 November 2014.  He addressed the Council on Foreign Relations in Mexico City on Central Asia on 24 July 2007.

In addition to his career, Tom belonged to numerous Rotary clubs and in multiple countries: Sydney, Australia; New York; Washington DC; Ankara, Turkey; Pretoria and Johannesburg. He was President of his Rotary Clubs in Pretoria and Johannesburg and an Assistant Governor.

Among the many publications he wrote after joining SAIIA are a monograph entitled The Development of Relations between Turkey and South Africa 1860-2005, and a chapter on Central Asia and the Caspian Region: Their significance for South Africa which appeared in the SA Yearbook of International Affairs 2006/7. An article entitled Ankara to Africa: Turkey’s Outreach to Africa since 2005 was published in the South African Journal of International Affairs in April 2011. He has also contributed several short articles on Turkish – South African relations which are available on the website www.saiia.org.za.

But the story was always the most important thing for Tom. He loved telling the stories of his career to young researchers and the tales of our adventures together to anyone who would listen.

When Tom and his former DFA colleagues, Pieter Wolvaardt and Werner Scholtz realized that many of the stories of those who had served in the old South African Department of Foreign Affairs were being lost, the three solicited and complied many of those account into a trilogy of books. These were published under the title From Verwoerd to Mandela: South African Diplomats Remember (March 2011).

It was an attempt to get more of those stories preserved and made available to a wider audience that was the inspiration behind this blog. It was a joint effort: Tom found material; I scanned documents into readable files; Tom cleaned them up and then sent on to “Tom’s Techie,” Geoff van Heerden, for uploading onto the site.  

Now, you must send your own stories and keep the conversation going. Each account adds another piece to the picture, making it richer and more nuanced.

Tom loved being a diplomat. He loved meeting people, having conversations, traveling, mentoring others, and hearing and telling the stories.

And I will always love him. He gave me a world I would never have known without him. Please – tell the rest of the stories for him and each other.

Donna Wyckoff-Wheeler

Johannesburg, 19 May 2017

A loving tribute penned by Donna in memory of her Tom (Part 1)

On 18 May 2017, my beloved husband, Tom Wheeler, went into went into cardiac arrest about 6 AM and died a few minutes later. He had been in Intensive Care at Rosebank Clinic in Johannesburg for the past 10 days, battling multiple infections and other issues after a year of declining health. Part of what some follows comes from my own memories of our time together; part from a CV Tom had prepared himself (although I’ve tried to humanize some of the austere document language). The time elements jump around a bit, but the dates should provide context.

Tom was born in Cape Town on 27 October 1938. He graduated from the University of Stellenbosch in 1959, and after a year as a government translator, joined the South African Foreign Service in 1961.

During his forty-two year career as a South African diplomat he served in Washington (twice 1963/8, 1988/9 – the latter as Minister/Deputy Chief of Mission); Blantyre, Malawi; London; Sydney, Australia; New York (Consul-General). His last foreign posting was to Ankara, Turkey (1997- 2001) as Ambassador to Turkey, and as non-residential Ambassador to Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan.

In between foreign postings, Tom served as Chief Director: Global Security, Disarmament and Arms Control and also in other disciplines such as Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs, and the Environment, Science and Technology for various periods between 1993 and 1997. 

He was involved in developing a procedure for the vetting of applications for arms sales abroad and the initial stages of the drafting of a White Paper on peacekeeping policy. 

Between 1990 and 1997 he was closely involved in various aspects of the process of the transition to democracy, transformation of the South African foreign service, and the return of South Africa to the UN and other multilateral organizations. This last issue resulted in Tom sitting in the presidential chair in the UN General Assembly during a debate on renewing the nuclear non-proliferation treaty. It was a privilege he cherished in his memory.

Tom was also a member of South African delegations to a variety of international conferences, including: the UN Conference on Population and Development, Cairo, 1994; the OAU Special Ministerial Meeting in Cairo in 1995; President Mandela’s delegation to the UN General Assembly in 1994; the NPT Review and Extension Conference in New York in 1995 (de facto leader); and the Central Asian Nuclear Weapons Free Zone Conference in Tashkent in 1997.

He visited India (including Bangalore) in November 1996 as a member of Deputy President Mbeki’s delegation and headed the bilateral political discussions as part of the Joint Commission meeting in New Delhi.

Over the years, Tom also traveled extensively in Africa: Malawi, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Namibia, Madagascar, Kenya, Ethiopia, Cote d’Ivoire, Uganda, Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland and more recently Sudan and Ghana.

Tom and I met in Ankara, Turkey (where I was teaching in the Department of Culture and Literature at Başkent University) and we were married there in 2000. The short version of the story, which he loved to tell, was “We met at church, drank tea, and got married.” There were, of course, many chapters between tea and marriage, and many more stories as well.

During this time, Tom and I travelled extensively in Central Asia and in the Middle East – Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Syria and Northern Cyprus – sometimes for work; sometimes for pleasure. And there were many more travels to follow.

One of Tom’s great joys was going somewhere he’d not been before. He loved traveling by car and rated a holiday by the proportion of time spent in the car versus out of it. More time in meant more places he could see. I saw (more or less) 7,000 km of South Africa in 10 days the first time I visited this magnificent county.

In 1977 and 1979 he was a member of the South African delegations to the Antarctic Treaty Consultative meetings in London and Washington, the negotiation of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resources (CRAMR) in Washington in 1979 – adopted but never ratified.

He was a member of the South African delegation that adopted the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, CCAMLR, in Canberra in 1980, and is a South African signatory to the Convention. He was a member of the South African delegation to the inaugural meeting of the Commission in Hobart, Tasmania in 1982Hobert, Tasmania in 1982 and agaiHobH and at the meeting in 1986. He led the South African delegation to the 18th Antarctic Consultative Meeting in Kyoto, Japan in 1994.

One of the highlights of Tom’s career was to go to Antarctica aboard the SA Agulhas during the 1983 summer season. The trip included the SANAE III base and the newly established German base Georg von Neumayer.

Antarctica had been a life-long interest for Tom, and amongst the 8000 or so books in our house at the moment, many are on Antarctica. This interest culminated in research paper on South Africa’s involvement in Antarctica paper. Written jointly with Elizabeth Sidiropoulos (Chief Executive of SAIIA), it is entitled “To the Ends of the Earth: Antarctica, the Antarctic Treaty and South Africa. (RESEARCH REPORT 23, March 2016).

Tom also delivered an address on Antarctica and the Blue Economy at a conference jointly hosted by the Institute for Global Dialogue and DIRCO at the Department in Pretoria in 2014

Donna Wyckoff-Wheeler

Johannesburg, 19 May 2017

Memorial Service notice

The Wheeler family would like to express our sincere gratitude for the enormous outpouring of heartfelt messages and support that we have receive in this time of grief.

Tom touched so many lives, and we are extremely grateful to have had him in ours. He will be dearly missed by many.

There will be a memorial service tomorrow (Thursday 25 May) 14h00 at St. Columba’s Presbyterian Church, 45 Lurgan Road, Parkview, Johannesburg.

In lieu of flowers, we would love for donations to be made to the Rotary Foundation in Tom’s honour. Please put “For Tom” in the payment reference line and “Peace Fellowship” as the designation of contribution.

Back transfer:

HSBC Bank PLC – Johannesburg Branch

2 Exchange Square, 85 Maude Street, Sandown, Sandton 2196, South Africa (necessary for overseas payments)

Beneficiary Name: Rotary Foundation

Account Number: 121007504001.  Or: 21007504001 (If alternative 11-digit code must be used)

Branch Code: 587000

SWIFT (BIC) Code: HSBCZAJJ

Currency: South African Rand (ZAR)

Payment Reference:

Donor Name: For Tom 

Designation of contribution: Peace Fellowship

Flag ceremony at the United Nations offices in New York

                                      

Congratulations! Mr Reggie Khumala, PAC Representative at the UN shakes hands with SA Ambassador Jim Steward. On the right is Kingsley Makhubeia, Deputy Permanent Representative of the ANC at the UN.

                                   

The new South African flag is raised on 27 April 1994.

Allen Shardelow, New York 

 Meintjeskop Courier, Volume EE, 1994

Recent events at the United Nations have indeed been historic from South Africa's perspective. The old "apartheid" South African flag was lowered for the last time at the United Nations on Tuesday. 26 April 1994. On Wednesday, 27 April 1994, the new flag was raised in the presence of South Africa's Permanent Representative to the United Nations, Ambassador Jim Steward, Mr Reggie Khumalo (PAC Chief Representative to the UN), and Mr Kingsley Makhubela (ANC Deputy Chief Representative to the UN). 

The event was marked by much brotherly hugging and back-slapping. Those colleagues who have served at the UN in the past, and certainly those currently stationed in New York, must surely have wondered at how the UN environment had changed. Erstwhile enemies were now standing arm in arm witnessing the birth of the new South Africa on the very ground of the Organisation that had once declared "Apartheid a crime against humanity".

Their task completed, the lights are out and the shutters drawn at the ANC and PAC Observer Missions to the United Nations. The former Chief Representative of the ANC to the UN, Mr Tebogo Mafole, returned to his former stamping grounds on 25 and 26 May 1994, as part of Deputy President Mbeki's delegation to attend the Security Council meeting ,which lifted the mandatory arms embargo against South Africa. 

At that meeting, the delegation sitting behind South Africa's name-plate in the Security Council comprised Deputy-President Mbeki, Deputy Minister Aziz Pahad, the Director-General Mr LH Evans, Mr T Mafole and Ambassador Jim Steward.

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The final step in our reintegration into the UN took place on 23 June 1994 when South Africa's delegation to the United Nations, led by Foreign Minister Alfred Nzo, took South Africa's seat in the General Assembly to warm applause from the delegates of 184 nations. Mr Mafole was again present. He just cannot seem to stay away.

The task ahead for the Permanent Mission at the UN is an enormous one. We have taken our place in the various regional groups (NAM. Africa Group and the Group of 77), and now have to ensure that our views on a plethora of international issues are heard.

Everybody at the United Nations is an observer. Image and association are all important. News of who was seen in whose company is furtively exchanged in the corridors while the subject of their conversation is speculated on. South Africa's diplomats will not escape this scrutiny. Much will no doubt be said and speculated on as we go about our task of being an African country while attempting to maintain our bridge to the Western World.

Interesting and challenging times certainly lie in ambush.

With greetings from a hot and humid New York.

Transit in Cairo

Ant Greenham, Amman

Meintjeskop Courier Volume, 1994

I was on my way from Amman to Nairobi for the Heads of Mission meeting and had.to pass through Cairo airport in the process.

Having identified the transit area, which was a little distance from where the bus dropped off the disembarking passengers, I joined the queue which had formed in front of a kind of mini passport control point which was next to a large hall filled with orange plastic chairs. I remember thinking that it could be quite interesting if the place was full of people, which at that stage it was not.

At the control point, I was relieved of my air ticket and diplomatic passport and told (in English) to sit down. I chose a place as close as possible to the Egyptian officials and proceeded to watch developments. It was immediately apparent that my guarantee of an onward journey together with my means of identification was to leave the area together with those of the other passengers. In fact officials kept coming and going with piles and piles of passports, some with air tickets, some without. Some even had boarding cards which indicated an imminent reunification with the owners, although it soon became clear that the order in which one's passport and ticket was surrendered bore no resemblance to the order of return.

Before long, we were joined by a large number of passengers from Nigeria who were on their way to Mecca. Some argued with the officials, but in vain. Everyone was dispatched into the large hall with the orange plastic chairs. Some sat, unperturbed. Others milled around. Most wore slip-slops, some with socks, although one little girl with a running nose was barefoot. There were many long, West African robes and on heads, apart from a cap with the words "I'm a Muslim" (in Arabic) embroidered on it, were a large number of white bags from the company "Sacs and Motors" in Kano with the assurance "Nobody bags it better".

The loudspeaker informed us (in very clear Arabic, English and French) that the flight for Jeddah was to depart. This led to some consternation among the document-bereft Mecca-bound pilgrims, many of whom stood up and did their best to fill the small space between me and the officials. This didn't help, however,and after 30 minutes many tired and sat down right there, on the floor. In time they were given their documents, one by one, and to the best of my knowledge successfully made the Hajj.

Others were less fortunate. I was seated next to a Thai who had been separated from his group. They 'had all departed for the hotel as they were only to leave for Bangkok the next day. He, however, was stuck in transit and no amount of inquiry had changed his circumstances after 2and a half hours. Another man in the hall was confronted by an official (who was backed up by four others who accompanied him to the recipient of the confrontation), but I was not able, determine the final outcome of the interchange. Some individuals managed to leave the hall, apparently on an errand to take control of the situation (and their documents), but they inevitably returned and resumed their wait.          .

Forty minutes before my flight left, which was a good three hours after I entered the hall (and on the wrong side of midnight) I was much relieved to see a familiar-looking passport, together with my air ticket and boarding pass in the hand of an official and I was able to proceed on my journey.

I really have nothing to complain about. Within their system, the officials were polite and helpful and if one doesn't mind having a perfect stranger in a foreign place take your essential documents and disappear, it's probably not a bad idea to relax and enjoy the service. 

Een nag op die trein na Lapland

Kosie Venter

Meintjeskop-Koerier Mei 1992 

Dis September 1987. Die plek, Hesinki en die tyd sesuur die aand.  Sieta en ek het sopas ons karretjie op die trein gelaai en was besig om ons tuis te maak in 'n netjiese engerieflike kompartement. Ons het lankal uitgesien na hierdie reis na Lapland en daarvandaan na Noorwee om te gaan kyk hoe lyk Noordkaap die mees noordelike punt in die wereld waar mens met 'n motor kan kom.

Die trein begin beweeg, en soos goeie Suid-Afrikaners gewoond is om te maak, kom die whiskybottel te voorskyn vir daardie sundowner (terwyl die son hierdie tyd van die jaar nie eintlik opkom of ndergaan niel).  Netnou sal ons die restaurant opsoek, 'n heerlike Finse vismaal geniet en dan lekker vroeg in die kooi klim vir die nagreis na Kolari in die noorde. More vat ons dan die pad deur Lapland na Noord- kaap. 

Daar is seker van ons kollegas wat Fins aanqelee r het, maar ons twee, wat tog meer as twee tale magtig is, het tou opgegooi na enkele maande se probeer. Tel kon ons darem want in winkels was dit nodig om min of meer te weet hoeveel 'n ding kos. Een twee drie vier Uksi kaksi, kolme nalja en so aan. 

Die woord vir twee wat in Afrikaans nie baie mooi op die oor val nie, hoor jy in byna elke sin, want dis twee, dubbel, twintig, tweehonderd en so aan. Nou probeer ek die kennisgewings agter die deur ontsyfer om te sien waar die restaurant is, maar dis nog Griekser as Homerus se Odyssee. 

Die gangetjie is ook maar soos alle ander nou en harde wande wat jou elmboe werlt as die trein so skommel. Gelukkig is die 1aaste deur agter gesluit anders kan 'n man jou mos misgis en ingedagte uitstap op die groen Finse landskapl Reg geraai geen restaurant nie. Ek kom 'n man met 'n uniform en ' n keps tee met so 'n lys en 'n pot- lood. Moet die kondukteur wees. 

Hy praat nie Engels, Duits of Afrikaans nie. Hy verstaan darem die woord restaurant, maar uit sy stortvloed van woorde lei ek 'n ontkennende toontjie af. Miskien, dag ek in my slimheid, word die wa later aangehaak. Finne hou daarvan om laat te eet. 

Jongmense in Finland is oor die algemeen Engels magtig, en intelligente ou wat ek is, soek ek nou so iemand wat my dalk kan inlig. Ja, daar kom sy. Mooi en blond.  Nee, se sy, hier is nie 'n restaurant nie. Volgens haar is dit glo te gevaarlik want die Finne ken nie hulle maat met die Koskenkorva (vodka) of wyn nie, en as hulle more-oggend die pad vat kan dit foeter. 

Mense bring maar hulle eie kosmandjie saam wat in elk geval die nodige bottel medisyne bevat. In die kompartement is daar darem 'n karaf water wat die whisky moet verdun. Sieta het ook in ons nagtassie 'n paar beskuitjies en 'n stukkie kaas ontdek. Soos die Skrif se"'n droe bête met rus daarby" dit was ons aandete in plaas van daardie heerlike salm met al die "goodies" wat daarby hoort.  

Volgende oggend is die keel maar  droog en die tong lelik aangetas gaan van die kaas of, miskien die water uit die karaf wat toe al op is. Ek is weer soek na water – ons treine en al die ander wat ek ke het so ‘n groot fles in die hoek vandie gang waar drinkwater gehou word.Nee,niks! Die vrou van my keer ‘n man voor wat met sy karaf water bedel by elke kompartement. 

HY sal in die hemel kom, want hy skink vir ons so ‘n halwe glasie.  Moes seker aan dieselfde kwaal as ons  het begrip het, en het begrip vir die probleem gehad.  

Halfelf by Kolari aangekom, moet ons half spring om van die trein af te kom, want daar is nie 'n platform nie, lyk nes die saaidings in die ou dae in Wes-Transvaal. Dit sif so effens en dis koud.  Die wagkamer is interessant: 'n groot Lapse tent met 'n vuur in die middel en bankies teen die kante. 

Eindelik op pad. Maar nou is die vind van 'n eetplek dringend noodsaaklik. Hier is 'n plek wat soos ‘n keffie lyk. 'n Vriendelike gesette moederlike tipe agter die toonbank. Die uiteinde van die taalprobleem was dat ons aldrie in die kombuis gestaan en eiers bak het en in die proses die name vir die verskillende produkte probeer leer het. 

Hierdie tyd van die jaar is Lapland pragtig met sy roesbruin blare wat soos 'n goue blinkende see lyk. Kort-kort moet jy stilhou sodat troppe takbokke, soos beeste of skape, oor die pad kan stap. Die parmantige leierbul vooraan met sy pragtige horings fier in die lug. 

Hier en daar is daar besienswaardighede langs die pad. Op een plek in die bos is 'n groot uitgeholde klip waarin volgens oorlewering, 'n man een nag saam met I n beer teen die koue geskuil het. Hier in die woud kom jy diep onder die indruk van die oorweldigende stilte van Lapland. Jy kan die stilte hoor. Geen geluid, nie eers van 'n voel nie. 

Op die Noordpoolsirkel (Napapiiri) is daar 'n groot toeriste-aantreklikheid. 'n Bord met verskillende tale vertel jou dis die poolsirkel en in die winkeltj ies kan jy van alles en nog wat koop - takbokhorings en velIe, fleurige Laphooftooisels en massas kitsch. In 'n kampie loop rendiere, en die grootste een heet Rudolf. Dan besef jy dis Kersvader se blyplek. En gou merk jy die vriendelike dik ou man op waar hy praatj ies met veral kinders maak.  Sy groet bestaan uit drie geluide "Hoi-ho-ho! " Ja, hy bestaan werklik, hy woon op die Noordpoolsirkel en hulle se hy vlieg regtig met sy slee en takbokke deur die lug!