We all knew that when Helen Suzman died (as she did last week, aged 91) she would be richly praised for her unforgettable role in South African politics. But what few of us could have expected was that the country's political leaders, almost without exception, would elevate her virtually to sainthood. The praise was unqualified, quite extraordinary. No ifs or buts - just plain Saint Helen.

It is easy to be cynical about this, about the pedigrees of some of the praise-singers; but there is something about what happened last week that seems to go deeper than even the tribute-payers could have conceived -that national feelings were stirred which still have to be identified. The phenomenon that has to be explained is why not just the "progressive" constituency, but practically every black political leader of note bowed his head: South African president (interim?) Kgalema Motlanthe, Mosiuoa Lekoto (leader of Cope), Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi (Inkatha), the Pan Africanist Congress, a queue of others. In a personal letter to Suzman's family, now deposed president Thabo Mbeki and his wife Zanele lauded Helen as "one of the leading midwives of the democracy we enjoy today" - the same Mbeki whose presidency Helen wrote off as "disastrous."

Motlanthe was a pall-bearer at the funeral (as was ex-apartheid president FW de Klerk), although when the Mandela-Mbeki presidency took over in 1994, the ANC could scarcely wait a decent internal of time before removing Helen's portrait from the National Assembly's walls and consigning it to the basement, from where the Democratic Alliance later salvaged it to position it in its caucus room. The ANC will recall, too, that in the 1980s it reviled Helen as a "sell out" for opposing international sanctions against the apartheid regime (she took the view that black trade unionism would be more effective).

Against this background, and surveying the fierce infighting between the ANC and Cope, some analysts have concluded that the ANC-Cope leaders did little more in their praise-singing than play yet another manipulative game. It is difficult for instance to fault the article written by Rapport's editor, Tim du Plessis (January 4), in which he said it had become overwhelmingly clear "that our political culture is not going to change. Mbeki's arrogance is simply replaced by Zuma's arrogance."

As for loyalty weighing more heavily than ability and integrity, this had never been unique to Mbeki. "We know it is in the ANC's DNA." Du Plessis warned his readers not to expect Jacob Zuma to be a transformer like Barack Obama: on the contrary, Zuma would stick to the status quo, as he has done over Zimbabwe, reenacting just what Mbeki did - "placate and protect" Robert Mugabe.

Here lies the puzzle. Du Plessis's analysis of current ANC politics is correct. On the other hand, what electoral mileage is there in it for a black leader to trawl the approaching general elections' catchment areas telling his followers that their role model should be a progressive white woman? None.

So one of the answers to the puzzle might be that the warring leaders felt impelled to line up as praise-singers, driven there by forces neither they nor, I suspect, most of us understand. This is what is so fascinating about history: the way generations after generations look back and wonder, with hindsight, why they did not see change coming, when to the gifted ones with practised eyes all the signs were there.

In the ANC's case, a possible explanation of their sudden acknowledgement of Saint Helen is that a sixth sense told them that out there among the masses an insistence on change was building up - difficult to pinpoint, but nevertheless still there. Call it a life force, or what one likes, but it is in history's DNA. A recent example, of sorts, was the Zuma tsunami that struck first in June 2005, and then more devastatingly in December 2007.

Now Zumaism itself might experience its own tsunami, although probably in a less spectacular way. So, bit by bit, "liberation's" throttlehold on black politics is weakening; its clarion call for black solidarity is being replaced by a less rhetorical, but more irresistible, demand - for jobs, houses, services, a decent life. What makes this demand so dangerous for the present crop of ANC and Cope leaders is that it is not fully orchestrated yet, although pollsters who test opinions in black townships already tell of an unfolding confrontation.

Another odd aspect of last week's events was the relatively scant attention ANC leaders gave to the Democratic Alliance, which after all is partly Helen's legacy. It expanded from Helen's lone 13-year-long stand (1961-1974) to its present near-50 of the Assembly's 400 members. Certain comparisons can be made between the two Helens - Suzman and DA leader Zille.

Ann Bernstein comments on her friend, Helen Suzman, are perceptive here: "The issues she fought were the building blocs of apartheid: race discrimination; pass laws; disadvantages confronting black women; the crime of Bantu education; the insanity of racial classification; the critical importance of releasing Nelson Mandela and unbanning the ANC."

The building blocks of apartheid. In other words, Suzman's life was at the rock face of discrimination. She was one of those unusual politicians who draw lines in the stand, and hold to them. Her information, obtained often at first-hand through diligent research, was impeccable. Most parliamentarians are talkers; Helen was a doer. She would visit the prisoners on Robben Island, or Winnie Mandela in banishment in Brandfort. And all the while, she would retain her gutsy way of tackling situations. She advised a colleague who was standing for public office, but receiving offensive telephone calls, to buy a whistle and blow loudly into the mouthpiece - caustic humour at its best.

In a way, Helen's mission was simpler than Helen Zille's is now. Apartheid then was the enemy, the world was on her side, and the lines of battle were vividly drawn. Politics is much more complex today. The "liberation" cry often confuses and intimidates would-be progressive supporters. Yet Zille is drawing her own lines in the sand and creating her own building-blocks; and she, too, works at the rock face.

Paradoxically, the coming elections may well present her with one of her most difficult choices - whether to create/accept offers of coalitions; uncertain sometimes whether she is dealing with genuine nation-builders or just a regrouping of scoundrels. Whether progressively-inclined South Africans realise that it is not only Helen Zille who will be tested shortly, but also they themselves - by declaring their progressive allegiances instead of withdrawing into the woodwork - is still to be seen.

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