ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DEATH; TRIBUTE TO PUPU HLONGWANE
I met Neliswa Pupu Hlongwane (born Shabangu) in the most unexpected yet meaningful way. We met through our mutual friend, the unforgettable late Philile Masango. At the time, Philile and I had grown close through her provocative and progressive posts on social media.
One inbox message led to another, and before long I found myself nudging her into full-blown politics. It was clear she had a voice the struggle needed. The Swaziland Diaspora Platform (SDP) therefore became a natural home for her, a safe landing ground where she could transform conviction into action.
As we worked to grow the Diaspora Platform, Philile opened her home in Midrand to us not just for political meetings but also social gatherings. It is there that I first met Pupu. What I found was a soft-spoken and deeply intelligent woman whose quiet presence carried both tenderness and strength. A former journalist, she had built a life in Johannesburg through her marriage to the award-winning author, Perfect Hlongwane.
Pupu with her son. Pics from click flick photography
Together with Philile, Pupu introduced me to their circle people and together we built the SDP into a force. Pupu and I grew close, not through grand events, but through the small everyday rituals of comradeship. The WhatsApp groups (often numbering just five people at most) where we traded political banter, teased each other about football (she a proud Liverpool enthusiast, and me a steadfast Manchester United fan) became part of our rhythm.
She could turn a heated debate into laughter in our groups. She had that gift. Though she moved quietly, Pupu was deeply involved in the politics of our country. She supported so many of our initiatives whether in the SDP or later in Ulibambe Lingashoni journal. Her most profound piece of writing for the journal was her tribute to Philile Masango.
In that article, she mourned her friend with a clarity and depth that only someone who had truly loved her could express. We had vowed that Philile’s memory would never fade. Writing about her politics, her convictions, and her uncompromising spirit was our humble contribution toward keeping her alive in the struggle she so loved.
Pupu embraced that responsibility with reverence. Over the years, she became one of the people I leaned on as we navigated our country’s turbulent politics together.
She was disappointed, often heartbroken, by the failures of our society, the contradictions, and the betrayals for the future that seemed to repeat themselves. Yet she never stopped caring and loving her country. She remained invested in a better country for her son and her people.
Pupu was also profoundly transformational and self disciplined. I remember how proud she was when she finally let go of certain habits that had weighed on her health. She embraced vegetarianism, became a gym enthusiast, and carried herself with a renewed sense of purpose. A new Pupu was born almost overnight.
Her discipline inspired me. But perhaps her greatest act of courage was choosing to return home from South Africa and facing unemployment, embracing the “disappointment” of a marriage that had not worked out, and a future that was painfully uncertain. She did it with grace. She took home to rebuild her life from scratch with humility.
Pupu at a gym in Matsapha
In the country she tried to reclaim her roots in journalism, explored various initiatives, and kept moving, even when the road was heavy beneath her feet. In 2023, our bond deepened again when we found ourselves fighting on the same side of a political contest within a movement she loved dearly.
It was a heart-wrenching time for her, especially when it placed her in opposition to people she cared about, including old friends from South Africa. She often vented her frustrations on the the lack of discipline, the misdirection and the moral decay she witnessed firsthand at various political gatherings.
I will never forget her call after attending the funeral of Mzamo Sikhondze. She spoke, exasperation all over her voice, at length about how embarrassed she felt by the conduct of some comrades; the drinking, the disorder, the loss of dignity in a struggle that demands so much of our people.
She believed her movement needed purification and a renewal of its soul. She passionately threw herself into that effort relentlessly by 2023. When that initiative failed, and the wave of social media negativity followed months later, it wounded her deeply.
We met in town afterwards, and she spoke with a softness I had not heard before of her disappointment, exhaustion and feeling defeated. Still, she carried herself with dignity. Our final conversations were more personal, more tender.
We spoke about our dogs—mine having died in a tragic accident, hers just back from training. She shared her joys, her hopes, her dreams. And then she told me proudly about her work with the Rotary Club, a space where she had retreated and found new meaning after the turbulence of politics.
Pupu with her friends Mlandvo and the late Philile Masango
But above all, Pupu spoke of her son. She brimmed with hope for him, discussing his writing, how he wanted contribute to The Bridge, and her dreams of seeing him study abroad. Everything she did, she carried him in her heart. When the young man eventually started writing for Swazi Bridge, I knew he had taken the craft of the pen from both his parents.
In remembering Pupu, we must not pigeonhole her. She was many things to different people; a comrade to activists, a gym enthusiast to her fitness junkies, a care free volunteer to her rotary club community and a proud disciple of the never walking alone army. For me I will remember a woman who held the struggle to a high moral standard and demanded the same of us.
Her life journey was not easy but it was brave. Her voice was quiet yet powerful. Her life was humble and meaningful. Though she leaves us with hearts heavier than words can express, she also leaves us with the gift of her example; a reminder that the struggle is not only political but moral too.
To Pupu politics begins with truth and that dignity must be protected, even when the world makes it difficult.
Rest well, my comrade. Rest well, my friend. Your gentleness, your discipline, your laughter, your convictions, and your humanity will remain with us always.