Newsmakers of 2021: Gift of the Givers’ Imtiaz Sooliman

Gift of the Givers founder Imtiaz Sooliman never planned to set up a humanitarian relief organisation. It was a chance spiritual encounter that led the medical doctor to wind down his three Pietermaritzburg practices almost 30 years ago, and establish an outfit that would become a mainstay of the disaster relief landscape — in SA and elsewhere in the world.

Just this month, Gift of the Givers has assisted the Southern Cape communities of George and Oudtshoorn following devastating flash floods, providing plastic sheeting, blankets and food. That’s in addition to a R5m upgrade to the Nkqubela TB Hospital in East London — one of several hospitals in the underserved province that the organisation is upgrading. And ongoing water provision to drought-stricken parts of the country.

Over its 29 years of existence, Gift of the Givers has become the largest home-grown disaster response agency in Africa, delivering nearly R4bn of on-the-ground support in more than 43 countries. In large part, that’s due to Sooliman’s tireless direction. He’s a self-confessed workaholic (he recently had two stents put in, and was back at work 48 hours later). "My family? They know I’m mad," he tells the FM.

But this wasn’t his original plan. "I didn’t get up one day and say: ‘Let me get a group of people together, write a constitution, have founding principles and form an organisation.’ It never happened like that," he says.

Back in 1986, Sooliman met an Afrikaner in Pietermaritzburg, who’d recently returned from the US. He told Sooliman of a spiritual teacher in Turkey, whom he should try to meet.

"I said: ‘Is this a joke?’ I’d never seen Cape Town, when would I see Istanbul?

He said: ‘What God wills happens, there’s a time and a place.’"

Sure enough, five years later Sooliman met the teacher at a Sufi centre in Turkey. It was just after the first Gulf war, the world was polarised, and it was a time of huge conflict. "Emotions were high — and you come to a place like this, [coming] from a place with an apartheid past … and you see all kinds of people — Christians, Hindus, Jews, Muslims … from all around the world. And you think, what the hell is going on here? … There are no arguments, nobody fights, everybody respects each other’s point of view. Nobody is judged," he says.

The teacher explained his world view: that there is a single deity for all of humankind — different groups just call it by different names.

"[The teacher] said: ‘Any imam, priest and rabbi who preaches violence, terrorism, extremism and discord and the taking of life is not a man of God — don’t follow him,’" Sooliman says. "Immediately, all the blinkers, the tunnel vision, the prejudice, stereotypes, anything negative related to fellow human beings evaporated … It became clear you assess human beings as human beings: the blood is the same, anger is the same, the hurt is the same."

Then came the instruction. As Sooliman tells it, the teacher spoke in Turkish — and somehow Sooliman was able to understand every word. The teacher told him: "My son, I am not asking you, I am instructing you to form an organisation. In Arabic it’s Waqful Waqifin and translated it means Gift of the Givers.

"The name will be this. You will serve all people of all races, all religions, all colours, all classes, all cultures, of any geographical location and of any political affiliation. But you will serve them unconditionally — you will expect nothing in return, not even a ‘thank you’ … Serve people with love, kindness, compassion and mercy. And remember the dignity of man is foremost.

"So if someone is down on the ground, don’t push them further. Hold them, elevate them, caress the head of an orphan, wipe the tear of a grieving child, help the widow, clothe the naked and feed the hungry, provide water to the thirsty. In everything you do, do the best you can — not because of ego, but because you’re dealing with human life, emotion and dignity."

The moment Sooliman walked out of the centre, he knew what his next step would be. He took 31 containers of aid to Bosnia — a fractured country in the grip of civil war — then eight containers to Eastern Europe. Three months later, he started building the world’s first container mobile hospital, in Pretoria.

By then, he’d also arranged 10 containers of back-up medical supplies, a generator and a bus for patients. "When CNN filmed the hospital in February 1994, they said the SA mobile hospital is equal to any of the best hospitals on the ground in Europe," he says.

"When we started, it was the Muslim community who funded us. It’s a religious instruction, we ingrain it in our children from the day we are born — you are frowned upon if you don’t give charity."

But while Gift of the Givers is a Muslim organisation, "Islamic teachings emphasise service to all," Sooliman explains. "Race, religion and colour mean nothing to us."

As the organisation grew, and more people and organisations began to contribute, Gift of the Givers was able to deliver aid to Haiti, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Niger, the Philippines, Nepal and South Sudan.

For all its work abroad, however, the organisation remained relatively unknown in SA. Until the Knysna fires of 2017. Then the public really began to understand how Gift of the Givers worked, says Sooliman, with its medical teams, fire teams, life support, paramedics and its own ambulances. It arranged fodder for animals in the elephant park, 30t of pet food and 20,000 food parcels in the Knysna region.

Within three weeks, it had raised R20m from donors of all stripes. Then the big corporates got on board. It’s a remarkable feat, given the organisation’s policy not to ask for money. "We have no fundraising staff, we don’t make proposals, we don’t phone or knock or call," Sooliman says.

A year later, with the threat of "Day Zero" hanging over Cape Town — the day the city’s taps were supposed to run dry — Gift of the Givers moved 300 containers of water from Durban and Joburg, and drilled boreholes in the city.

Also in 2018, the Karoo town of Sutherland was collapsing. "Animals were dying and merino sheep would be decimated," says Sooliman. "We drilled 238 boreholes, we started supplying millions of rands of fodder. Quite often the fodder was donated by farmers in SA who hadn’t been affected [by the drought], but often we had to pay for transport."

In response to pleas from Beaufort West, Gift of the Givers geologist Gideon Groenewald was sent to the town. The organisation drilled five boreholes, and pumped the water into the town’s reticulation system.

When the Eastern Cape ran into water woes in 2019, the Gift of the Givers drought relief programme expanded further.

For the past two years, the group has been at the forefront of SA’s response to Covid. When the virus reached SA last year, the organisation visited 210 hospitals, supplying personal protective equipment and reusable scrubs for doctors (it made 12,000 sets at a cost of R400 each); it delivered masks, gowns, hazmat suits, goggles, pulse oximeters and thermometers. It installed high-flow nasal machines, set up 10 Covid testing sites, put in place mobile testing teams and established 37 tents for triage at various hospitals. It also started a hospital upgrade programme, spending millions on state facilities in Mitchells Plain in Cape Town and in Bhisho and other areas in the Eastern Cape.

Earlier this year, Gift of the Givers secured water supplies at Rahima Moosa and Helen Joseph hospitals in Joburg, and it’s sent drilling teams to other facilities. It’s also supplied R2m worth of medicines to the Eastern Cape and, as of last week, was providing food to patients at 40 hospitals in that province.

"Medical intervention has become a big thing for us," says Sooliman.

Last December, a national ventilator group approached Gift of the Givers. It had developed a ventilator specifically for Covid patients as a temporary intervention. It was a life-saving device, but the group couldn’t get it into hospitals.

"The red tape … [meant] the machines were being blocked getting into the hospitals," says Sooliman.

Then Gift of the Givers stepped in. Within 10 days, he says, the outfit had delivered 2,500 machines to hospitals in six provinces. Soon, the messages started streaming in — "people broke down sobbing because they had access to these machines and they were saving lives".

It probably helps that Sooliman won’t take no for an answer.

"I basically don’t follow rules, I just do what I have to do. They can jump, they can scream, I don’t care," he explains. "People know when we walk into a town … if anyone tries to stop us, we just walk in."

The group has become a recognisable — and trusted — presence on the ground. Communities know "the green people", he says. "They see our branding. We take stuff in, calm them down, and the anger and pressure is gone."

What does this mean for his relationship with the government?

It’s "excellent", he says. "In the morning we punch each other, knock each other in the teeth, and in the evening we have a cup of coffee together. And the next day we do the same thing. They realise we are there to help them, not to belittle them. I’m not interested in politics."

If anything, Sooliman believes he can be far more effective outside government, where he feels less constrained by the rules. But he also believes "there are a lot of good people" in the government who want to do the right thing — though they’re often hampered by a huge shortage of skills at local government level, and a lack of adequate resources. And, of course, "some people are just downright thieves".

Still, Sooliman believes a turnaround is under way in SA. "There is no shortage of people wanting to make a difference — inside and outside government," he tells the FM.

"There is a lot of hope in this country, but what is important is active citizenry. It’s a very important aspect in our development, where we don’t wait for government to fix things — we just do it."