In a country where the soul of transformation often gets buried beneath bureaucracy, profit margins, and political stagnation, the Sekunjalo Group stands not merely as a business entity, but as an ideal. A bold, African ideal born of purpose, shaped by sacrifice, and relentlessly driven by the conviction that freedom is incomplete without economic justice.

On the eve of Nelson Mandela Day, South Africa finds itself reflecting on the man who led us out of political bondage. Yet, as we commemorate his legacy, one truth becomes impossible to ignore: the promise of economic liberation remains painfully deferred for millions. The townships still choke on poverty. Ownership of wealth remains skewed. And transformation, once the heartbeat of our new democracy, now whispers in the background.

It is against this sobering backdrop that the story of Sekunjalo becomes not only relevant, but urgent.

Founded in the post-apartheid spring of the late 1990s, Sekunjalo was not conjured in a boardroom with glossy projections. It was born in rooms filled with veterans of the struggle — men and women whose commitment to freedom had left them impoverished, imprisoned, and overlooked by the emerging elite. Their vision was not just to build a company, but to heal a country. To create an economic engine where political freedom had left a vacuum.

It was President Nelson Mandela himself who nudged this vision into life. In meetings with Professor Jakes Gerwel and other former activists, he insisted that the coloured community of Cape Town, long marginalised under apartheid, must have a stake in the economic future of the city and the country. The name Sekunjalo, meaning “Now is the Time,” came from one of these very gatherings. It wasn’t just a name; it was a call to action.

And action, indeed, followed.

In 1999, Sekunjalo Investments became one of the few black empowerment companies listed on the Johannesburg Stock Exchange. But unlike many BEE firms that emerged merely to tick boxes, Sekunjalo anchored itself in principles, not patronage. It was not built to serve elites, but to multiply opportunity. It was not created to enrich the few, but to invest in the many. Its core was empowerment, community, and sustainable value creation.

Over the decades, the group expanded across multiple sectors — from healthcare to fishing, from media to technology — creating more than 20,000 direct and indirect jobs. It incubated black CEOs, funded education, and supported local businesses across the continent. It remained fiercely independent, even as competitors and institutions attempted to undermine or erase its impact. And it continued to be one of the very few large African investment groups that had not been swallowed by white capital or global conglomerates.

Yet, Sekunjalo has paid dearly for this independence.

Its media investments, including the acquisition of Independent Media, marked a turning point. Suddenly, the company was no longer just a player in business but a challenger to narrative control. A black-owned media house that dared to tell African stories with dignity, that questioned the status quo, that exposed what others chose to conceal. It became a target. Banking institutions began closing accounts. Smear campaigns intensified. Accusations — often without trial — became weapons to cripple its growth.

But Sekunjalo did not fold.

As Chairman Dr. Iqbal Survé once remarked, “We have never been anti-establishment. We are against injustice, especially when it wears the mask of respectability.” 

Today, the relevance of Sekunjalo’s journey transcends corporate boardrooms. It forces us to ask hard questions about where our country is heading. Why are black-owned companies still treated as suspects? Why are transformation champions punished while the architects of economic apartheid remain celebrated captains of industry? Why is it that, thirty years after democracy, institutions still recoil when real power is transferred into black hands?

Nelson Mandela knew that freedom without ownership is a broken promise. He knew that healing a nation required more than reconciliation — it required redistribution, responsibility, and resolve. Sekunjalo’s founding was not just endorsed by Mandela; it was aligned with his vision. The group exists not simply to succeed, but to model what ethical African capitalism can look like. It does not separate profit from purpose, nor scale from soul.

In many ways, the Sekunjalo Group is the economic echo of Mandela’s moral imagination — daring to be principled in a system that rewards corruption, daring to empower when others extract, and daring to be black, bold, and unapologetically African in a marketplace that still fears its own transformation.

This Mandela Day, the call is not to light a candle or donate an hour. The call is to recommit to the deeper project he left behind, the building of a just and inclusive economy. Sekunjalo’s story reminds us that this project is not theory. It is practice. It is possible.

South Africa needs structures of integrity. It doesn’t need performative empowerment. It needs brave institutions willing to absorb the cost of real change. Sekunjalo is not perfect, no movement born of struggle is, but it remains a powerful symbol of what is possible when business becomes a tool for nation-building, not just accumulation.

“Now is the time,” they said in 1997.

In 2025, the time has not passed. It has only grown more urgent.

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