There is a particular way the word Indaba arrives in modern conversations. It is invoked, often, as a slogan — pinned to a wall in a corporate office, dropped into a leadership keynote, printed on a tote bag. Indaba and the Decision That Could Not Be Reversed? The slogan version of Indaba is easy to admire and easy to ignore. The actual concept, the one that has shaped Zulu / Southern African life for generations, is harder. It demands more. And it is, I think, more useful.
What Indaba Actually Means
Let me give the canonical definition first, then try to do a little better. Indaba is a Zulu and Xhosa word for a council meeting — historically of elders, today of any group that needs to make a decision worth keeping. The form has been borrowed by international climate negotiators, corporate boards, and community organisations because of one quality: it produces decisions that hold. It does this by refusing the Western meeting model — the loudest voice, the rushed vote, the unread minutes — in favour of structured listening, ritualised speech, and visible consensus. The canonical version is correct but tame. The full version of Indaba is less polite, more demanding, and more interesting. It does not flatter the reader who has just discovered it.
Indaba ibanjwa ngabaningi.Zulu — A matter is held by the many.
The Question This Post Is About
A high-stakes decision walked through with Indaba as the guide. The question is worth taking seriously, because Indaba is one of those concepts that loses its shape when handled carelessly — and recovers it as soon as the reader is willing to slow down and listen.
Take a small, ordinary case. A team of nine. A project that was supposed to take a quarter is now in its second. The manager has the option to find a single person to assign blame to and to move on. The Indaba reading offers a different question: what did we, as a team, fail to make possible for the person carrying this work? Meetings end with the convener summarising what was decided and asking each person whether they recognise the summary. The case is not unusual. The reading of it, in the spirit of Indaba, is.
A Second Angle
Notice what the case is not asking. It is not asking who is to blame. It is not asking how to make the situation more efficient. It is asking what Indaba would have us do here, with these particular people, in this particular knot. Meetings end with the convener summarising what was decided and asking each person whether they recognise the summary. The discipline of asking the Indaba question — instead of the efficiency question, or the blame question — is what changes a working life over years.
Where the Concept Resists
There is also the question of authority. Who gets to speak for Indaba? The traditions in which it lives are old, plural, sometimes in disagreement with each other. Anyone — including the writer of this essay — who claims a definitive reading is overreaching. The careful reader treats every restatement of Indaba, including this one, as one voice among many.
What to Do With This
There is no certificate at the end of Indaba. There is only the slow accumulation of choices made differently — meetings shaped differently, relationships tended differently, decisions weighed differently. The reward is not visible. The cost is real. Over time the difference becomes a kind of life.
The full philosophy, as a book
How to run meetings where everyone is heard — and the decisions you make actually stick.
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