It began not in a boardroom or an office, but on the dusty roads of Empangeni in the 1980s, where Bell Equipment, then a modest family business run from a farm, would unknowingly become the birthplace of a financial movement. At the heart of this story stands Mr. Dlokwakhe Hadebe, the founding member of Ziphakamise Co-operative Bank, a man whose persistence transformed a dismissed idea into a banking institution grounded in trust, resilience, and purpose.
When Mr. Hadebe joined Bell in 1984, unions had yet to take root in the company. The workplace was informal, with workers lacking both representation and structured financial systems. By 1987, the winds of change had started blowing across Richards Bay’s industrial landscape. Inspired by what he had seen in Swaziland and stirred by rising union movements led by figures like Rev. Vilane, Mr. Hadebe proposed a savings scheme for Bell employees through an informal structure called the Joint Construction Committee (JCC).
His vision was ahead of its time. The Bell executives rejected the idea, citing legal uncertainties and lack of governance frameworks. Workers themselves were skeptical, needing immediate financial relief rather than promises of future security. “People thought it was a fly-by-night thing,” Mr. Hadebe recalled. “They wanted money now.”
Over a decade later, in 1998, the idea found new life when Mr. Hadebe came across a magazine called The Shopsteward. It featured an article on SACCOL, the Savings and Credit Co-operative League of South Africa and introduced him to a framework that matched his original vision. Armed with this blueprint, he returned to Bell’s management, more determined than ever.
This time, his proposal was met with curiosity and support. SACCOL’s affiliation with African cooperative structures like ACCOSCA (African Confederation of Co-operative Savings and Credit Associations) gave the idea legitimacy. Bell executives asked Mr. Hadebe to do more research.
He reached out to Mrs Maphefu Mabe, a former exile and SACCOL organizer, who flew from Pretoria to Richards Bay. Her knowledge and experience helped shape the first constitution of what would become Ziphakamise. Mr. Hadebe then customized that constitution to suit the local context and presented it to Bell employees, eventually gaining their buy-in.
It wasn’t easy. Workers still doubted the idea. But in time, he handpicked a founding team, including respected engineers and administrators, even enlisting a white woman as secretary, to show inclusiveness and credibility.
In November 1998, Ziphakamise faced its first real test: members demanded proof their savings were real. Bell assigned armed security to escort Mr. Hadebe to the bank to withdraw R1,100 a significant amount at the time. That transparency won over hearts.
The bank initially used the Kalamazoo bookkeeping system, which only allowed 75 members. By early 1999, they had outgrown it. A man named Michael introduced them to a digital system called CUBCS, developed in Ireland. Bell donated a computer. Ziphakamise was going digital.
Even the name Ziphakamise was given by a Bell HR staffer, Richard Machanic a white man, symbolizing the diverse support the idea eventually garnered.
But every great story has a breaking point.
Ziphakamise was hit by internal fraud, and the bank lost nearly everything. Mr. Hadebe was left to face angry workers and confess the unimaginable: their savings were gone.
“I developed a nerve of steel that day,” he laughed during our interview. But instead of turning on him, the workers said something that still moves him to this day: “Mr. Hadebe, we trust you. You can fix this.”
With their support, he began rebuilding.
SACCOL injected R600,000 as a lifeline. Another R600,000 came from a legal settlement with Hills Howard, a company implicated in the earlier fraud. Workers agreed not to withdraw funds until the bank recovered. They took loans instead, paying interest to rebuild reserves.
Ziphakamise moved its offices from ZCBF to Taxi City, then eventually established a more stable base. Whistleblower Mrs. Dunn, who had helped expose corruption, became the next manager. Bell, once skeptical, now played an integral role in shaping the institution, offering executives, legal support, and even shifting its attitude toward Mr. Hadebe, whose background as a unionist was once frowned upon.
Derrick Smyth, an international marketing director at Bell who initially rejected the savings idea, later became the Chairperson of Ziphakamise. The bank’s leadership included individuals across race, gender, and expertise a reflection of its flexibility and relevance.
Mr. Hadebe eventually led the KZN chapter of NACFISA, and Ziphakamise became part of a larger national and continental co-operative financial movement, with support from the German co-operative body DGRV.
Though Mr. Hadebe admits that Ziphakamise didn’t always give attention to the informal sector and vendors focusing more on industrial workers, the foundation he laid has become a beacon of what is possible when ordinary people organize around a shared vision.
From informal conversations in the corridors of a machinery company to digital banking supported by international networks, Ziphakamise Co-operative Bank is not just a financial institution, it’s a people’s victory.
And at the centre of it all stands a man who refused to give up.
