FRANSCHHOOK, SOUTH AFRICA — He grew up resentful of the scenic winelands near Cape Town, watching his mother toil in the vineyards so white people could drink Merlot and Chardonnay in gorgeous cellars. I grew up watching
But on a recent Saturday, Paul Sigka swirled Chenin Blanc in the airy tasting room he now owns.
What Siguqa, 41, has accomplished is extraordinary. The son of a farm worker, he spent 15 years saving to buy and restore, and last year opened his Klein Goederust Boutique Winery, the only entirely black-owned winery in Franschhoek. He is one of South Africa’s two most famous wine valleys.
But his achievement also raises a frustrating question. In 2022, in a country where blacks make up 80% of him, why is a black South African still so remarkable when he ranks high in society?
Despite all the progress South Africa has made since the days when the racial caste system of apartheid was codified, its democracy remains 28 years old. We continue to struggle to reduce the deep-seated inequalities that create limits for Troublesome racial disparities remain in wealth and land ownership.
Caucasians in South Africa make up about 8% of the population, but own 79% of private farmland. South African Economic Research ServiceThe divide is even wider in the wine industry. Blacks own only about 2.5% of the country’s vineyard area. According to a Vinpro report,Industry group.
“We inherited nothing,” Sigka said. “We are the first generation, so it all starts with us.
With charisma and a touch of a salesman, he pitches his personal story with the same flair for describing his own wines, and Siguqa wants to help reverse that imbalance. It’s not just the industry.
“If it is possible for the children of uneducated farm workers to become owners of farms, then it is possible that the children of domestic workers can become doctors, scientists or whatever they want to be,” he said. .
On a recent weekend, Sigka spoke with a group of African-American visitors about how he came to own his own winery, a pioneer in an industry difficult to access without inherited wealth. Joined a handful of black wine estate owners.
He told them that even though blacks in South Africa have to fight for their economic freedom, they are active in their faith and social mobility is possible. Several of his guests were in tears by the time he explained that black families have someone like their mother: “a strong black woman who is the head of the family.”
“We are so proud of you.” Thank you. “
Sigka grew up with his mother and sister in a two-bedroom cottage on the Franschhoek vineyards, about ten miles from the one he now owns. I saw the wine industry as part of the dead end future that the apartheid regime had designated. Negroes: The often toilsome labor of serving whites. Part of his mother’s salary was paid in wine (Mr. Sigka said she didn’t drink). dopp system.
His mother, Nomaroma Siguqa, 71, told him she would be the last generation in her family to work in the fields.
“We wanted to give our children a choice and not lead a hard life tied to the farm,” Sigka said.
So she impressed on children the importance of education.
Siguqa reveals that while he is immersed in research, he is also business savvy. Nearing the end of high school, he began buying fruit in bulk from local farmers and selling it at busy intersections to save money for college. He said he earned R875 (about $50) in his first weekend. This is more than his mother earned his R800 in a month. Business became so brisk that he hired other people to work for him, he said.
It was around this time that Sigka’s view of the wine industry began to change.
After apartheid ended, he took a part-time job tasting at the winery where he lived. He said he was surprised to see wealthy black visitors come to enjoy the wine. Maybe, he thought.
At age 17, he decided that one day he would own a winery.
After graduating from college, I successfully started a telecommunications company and an events company, and during that time I was looking for a vineyard I could afford.
In 2019, the hunt turned serious when Siguqa spotted a winery selling for R40 million ($2.2 million). He asked his friend and winemaker, Rodney Zimba, to visit there. Jimba, 48, grew up with Sigka and his parents worked together on the same vineyard.
But when Mr. Zimba visited the winery, he found it didn’t work because it’s remote and difficult to find.
“We are literally the children of farm workers. We want people to see us,” said Jimba.
So he urged Mr. Sigka to go to another property. It was small (24 acres), cheap (R12 million), on the main road about 5 minutes from Franschhoek.
the only problem? It was dilapidated.
Still, Mr. Sigka heeded Mr. Zimba’s advice and bought the property with cash in 2019. Jimba left his job at an established winery to lead a restoration project and become Mr. Sigka’s winemaker.
“I think it’s the legacy that we’ve built here,” said Zimba.
After two years and R23 million ($1.3 million) worth of renovations, Sigka opened the winery last December 3rd. We offer five types of wines, including Shiraz, a blend of Cabernet and Merlot, and dessert wines.
I said I would keep my original name. Klein Gederst, was founded in 1905 because he knows the psychology of his country. Consumers may associate a brand named Sigka Wine with lower quality because of its African name, he said.
“Apartheid took a toll on us mentally,” he said.
Yet his winery is steeped in his legacy.
A relatively small operation, the two rustic bright white Cape Dutch buildings (tasting room and restaurant), surrounded by 16 acres of vines, create an intimate atmosphere. What was once a stable and storehouse of cheap wine given to workers has been transformed into an upscale glass-enclosed bar.
To the Klein Goederust seal, Siguqa added a rain bird named after the clan. His signature wine, Sparkling Brut, is the Nomaroma Method Cap Classic, named after his mother.
“I am very happy and proud,” Sigka said. She once told her son that brut was changing color and black people were being judged harshly, so she needed to keep working on it.
“My experience has taught me that everything has to be a certain way,” she said.
From the beginning, Sigka wanted to establish his wine business as a premium one.
An employee recently told us that it takes eight to 10 weeks for the sparkling brut label to arrive, but it’s available sooner from other locations.
“No, it won’t be the same,” he told her. “Quality can’t be compromised.”
He seems to be already influencing the next generation of potential winemakers.
A native of the wine region, 23-year-old Sidima Ganjana also grew up believing that hard work was the only thing the wine industry offered black people like him. However, he found an academy that trained underprivileged youth in the wine industry and read an article about Mr. Sigka. He wanted to know how a black man could buy land that was supposed to be a white reserve, so he went to the vineyard and asked him to intern there.
“He doesn’t see it as a business,” Ganjana said. “It looks big”
While walking around his farm, Sigka plotted a plot of land where he planned to build a production facility to make his own wine (he currently rents the facility from another winery) and a planned site for a 20-room hotel. I pointed.
Then he pointed through the wire mesh behind his property to a cluster of tin shacks crammed close to the base of the majestic mountain. It was Langurgue, the informal settlement of black workers tending the vineyards.
Someone once suggested planting a tree along the property line to block the view from the residence, but Sigka said it couldn’t be done. That separation between predominantly white wineries and black workers was his history, and for many it is still today.
“This is a reminder of inequality,” he said. “It’s a constant reminder of how far we have to go as a country.”