Awaking to the news of Fidel Castro's death on Saturday morning, I had a sense of déjà vu and sadness. It took me back to just three short years ago. Castro died a week shy of the third anniversary of our seismic shift, when the founding father of our democracy Nelson Mandela died in December 2013.
Castro was 90. Mandela 95. At that age, death does not surprise, but the end of their lives made the world stand up and take notice as these marked the end of eras, which they had defined. Both were revolutionaries (though South Africans tend to remember only teddy bear Madiba) and guerillas. Liberators. Both thumbed their noses at Western powers and were resolute socialists: one died that way; the other changed his mind and turned us toward a mixed economy. The jury is still out on whether Mandela chose the right course.
The way that the idea of social justice was knitted into the fabric of what had previously been a casino island catering to rich Americans and locals resonated with me and still does.
And so it is on whether Castro chose correctly too. As part of a solidarity brigade to Cuba in the Nineties, it was plain for me to see then that the beautiful island had an economic rationale of central control and planning that made no sense. The dollar shops and international hotels (available only to those with US dollars) were like islands of plenty in clearly struggling times as the US blockade and sanctions bit hard. But Cuba's public hospitals were some of the best I've seen; and doctors were plentiful and excellently trained. The arts schools were magnificent. The people were warm and wonderful.
But, as a journalist, the clear suppression of information and the propaganda passed off as news was breathtaking since we were enjoying a Prague spring in a newly liberated South Africa. Media freedom has worsened since. Black Cubans we met whispered about being treated like inferiors and many professionals we met wanted to leave as life was hard.
Still, the way that the idea of social justice was knitted into the fabric of what had previously been a casino island catering to rich Americans and locals resonated with me and still does. And the fact that a small Caribbean island could come to so dominate geopolitics with its vision (still unrealised) of a different and better society was a David and Goliath story we South Africans love.
As with most things, Castro's death has divided South Africa by race. For black South Africans, he, together with his comrade and side kick Ché Guevara, are heroes who enjoy a veneration that most white South Africans don't understand.
For those fed on the diet of rooi gevaar (fear of communism) in the Eighties, Castro is a devil incarnate in the same way he is regarded by Miami's Cuban population who fled the island when his troops seized power.
This is probably because many white compatriots served or know a parent or older family member who served in the apartheid defence force which was walloped by Cuban-backed Angolan fighters at Cuito Carnavale, the legendary battle-ground. In Havana, it was a revelation to me to be lectured by Cuban old soldiers who had a very different war story to that we had been fed by the old SABC night after night during the war in Angola.
That battle is believed to have been one factor in changing the course of our history because it weakened the über South African Defence Force. Another factor was Cuba's solidarity with anti-apartheid movements. Long before the struggle against apartheid became fashionable in the West, Cuba had trained and educated activists and soldiers while funding liberation movements across Africa even though it had a fiscus that would make even stoic Pravin Gordhan cringe. On the world stage, it was a solid supporter in building the case against apartheid in the United Nations, which eventually declared the system to be a crime against humanity.
The Cuban doctor programme by which medicos from the island are sponsored at significant cost to work in public hospitals in South Africa while our medical students are sent to study there was one way of saying thank-you.
At Mandela's marvelous inauguration in 1994, many of the local white politicians and the world's leaders who swooped on the Union Buildings were surprised when the fatigue-clad Castro was greeted with uproarious applause and a standing ovation while big wigs like Al Gore (then US deputy president) and American first lady Hillary Clinton received welcomes that can at best be called polite.
And so, many will again be surprised or furious or cynical as South Africa wails in his memory and sends a top delegation to Cuba to help bury Fidel Castro. They really shouldn't – he is Cuba's Mandela and very much a son of South Africa's soil too.