the crowd. When Helen Zille, leader of the Democratic Alliance, was called forward and bolted to the podium carrying a tiny national flag overhead, she received thundering applause. After her rousing speech, the crowd burst out in song: ‘Helen, Helen wethu, Helen!’ It was the politics of optimism, of reconciliation and of hope. It was intoxicating.
There were hardly any low points during the day, but with so much talk some daft statements were bound to be made. One lady called for conscription into the police service. That was awkward. Others harped on the role of communist policies in creating jobs, which didn’t sit too well with Andile Mazwai’s incredible speech about the economic climate and the role of business in politics.
At the end of a long day I left the venue with a spring in my step, determined to be part of this historical development. I timed my exit to beat the crowd, so that when they closed the convention that evening – a day early – I remained ignorant of the fact. But even returning to an empty venue the following day failed to dampen my enthusiasm. ‘They finished last night, everything was done,’ the doorman told me. ‘Eish, this Cope is going to give me many headaches,’ I replied. ‘Ja, but it will give you more smiles,’ came the doorman’s retort. We were both right.
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