We lost one of the greatest South Africans in Raymond Ackerman last week, writes Gasant Abarder in his latest #SliceofGasant column. It was a week of personal strife for all South Africans as we stumbled from one crisis to the next. But Mr Ackerman’s legacy is what should give us all hope.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here.
Cowboys don’t cry, said Naas Botha that one time. My recollection of that one time he said it is fuzzy. It wouldn’t have been in relation to him tackling anyone and making them cry. This is Naas we’re talking about after all.
Even Naas would’ve struggled to hold back tears through our rousing national anthem as we kicked off the defence of the World Cup on Sunday. There would have been tears as Manie Libbok (interesting, as his surname is almost ‘The Bok’ in French) missed a few kicks. Then tears of joy as ‘The Bok’ was man of the match as we beat the Scots.
There would’ve been tears for the South Africans who missed the entire match due to loadshedding that intensified this week. This, right after we shed tears because of further fuel hikes.
It has been a sad week to be South African and the Bokke once again came through for us.
In suburbia, it was especially sad when our Calico cat Callie went missing after the move to the new house. It’s been just over a week now. Then we took Sophie, our sickly Jack Russell, to the vet. We thought she was stressed by the move. But she was diagnosed with leukaemia, and we had to euthanise her.
Laylaa and the kids were beside themselves with grief. I tried to remain stoic, but my tears flowed as we said our final goodbyes to her. In the vet’s room, she seemed better – the way humans strangely are before they die. Laylaa and the girls waited in the car as I settled the bill.
Then, a second wave of tears after seeing the bill. Laylaa gestured a thumbs up and mouthed an ‘Are you okay?’, on the other side of the reception area’s window. I lyingly nodded yes through a blur of tears.
Look, I understand that if you study many years before spending the rest of your days with your arm up to your elbow up a cow’s bum to check its prostate (or is that for bulls?) then you need to be handsomely compensated. But vet bills will reduce even Eben Etzebeth to tears!
The tears flowed too when a special South African passed away last week. A friend, whose wife worked at the company’s head office, broke the news and said his wife was in tears. I was close to tears too as I had fond memories of the incredible human that was Mr Raymond Ackerman.
On 1 April 2009, I arrived on my first day as the youngest editor of The Cape Argus in the paper’s almost 170-year history. My PA, Lyntina Aimes, said there was a letter on my desk that was hand-delivered on a Pick n Pay letterhead. The writer wished me luck and congratulations. It was personally signed by Mr Ackerman and remains one of my prized possessions.
Over the years, Mr Ackerman and his family were more partners than clients. We fired the starting gun together at the then-named Cape Argus Pick n Pay Cycle Tour and collaborated on many other social responsibility projects.
Mr Ackerman, his wife Wendy, and their children Gareth, Suzanne and Jonathan, were always there and first to respond when the need in communities was the greatest – be it a fire or flood.
This was Mr Ackerman’s legacy. He was famously fired by his biggest rival as a young upstart for putting the customer first with lower prices. He took that strategy to his own businesses and never looked back. He took on the government to fight for lower fuel prices and won. He pioneered non-branded grocery items to make them more affordable.
I was invited to Mr Ackerman’s 85th birthday party he celebrated with staff at Pick n Pay’s head office. I have rarely seen the founder of a business so genuinely loved by the people it employed, which is why I knew my friend’s wife’s tears were real and sincere.
At the party, small businesses told of their success after Pick n Pay had given them a shot at becoming suppliers. I met a black mushroom farmer from Mpumalanga whose product was being stocked in stores countrywide. I met a Cape Flats woman whose ready-made rotis were sold in each store. I met a shelf packer Mr Ackerman had personally mentored who was now a store manager.
People from all walks of life Mr Ackerman touched would have cried real tears as they mourned this generational genius who was the epitome of kindness, generosity and compassion. His type of leadership is absent across the board. A young Mr Ackerman would have stuck it to the man and would have found solutions for the many crises we face.
He is a soul whose passing we can shed real tears for.
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Picture: Gasant Abarder