Cuffe also imports two brands from outside the alliance, though she is pressuring them subtly--and not so subtly--to join. One outlier is Bouwland, a Stellenbosch vineyard whose wine Heritage Link has sold successfully through Whole Foods and other venues. (Bouwland is the company that rescued the Cuffes in March when another vendor left them in the lurch.) The business is owned 100 percent by 39 black farm families; on the day we visit, dozens of shareholders are laboring in the long rows of trellised vines, using delicate brushes to dab blue paint on each plant's cut branch ends. "The paint acts like a shield so bacteria does not get inside the wound," explains Jean McKenzie, as a heron the size of a small dinosaur lifts noisily out of the pond behind him. "The bigger the wound, the faster bacteria can move in." At age 24, McKenzie works in the fields three days a week; two days a week he studies business and wine management at the University of Stellenbosch and markets Bouwland's products to local stores and restaurants.
Inside, amid thrift-shop clutter, two tables have been shoved together and draped with a stained cloth. Here Cuffe sits for almost two hours with Onetia Africa, a managing director for Bouwland, and one of Africa's partners, Cecil Japp, sorting out the details of an order of 300 cases that is poised to ship. Cuffe is in her element here, with tested producers who will apply her advice immediately. Do you need a bonded warehouse? she asks. Can we think of ways to manage costs to keep the price stable? Cuffe presents them with wine-information cards she has created as marketing collateral for the brand in America and offers to send digital versions so Bouwland can customize them for domestic distribution. At one point she joins Africa at a computer and walks her through the process of completing an online FDA form. Throughout, Africa diligently scribbles notes in a thick datebook with a "Black Is Back" sticker plastered on the front.
In South Africa, race is never subtext. It is probably possible to have a serious conversation in which the subject doesn't come up, but I didn't manage it. And race plays the same queasy role in business here as in the United States, only amplified a thousand times. You can boldly proclaim your intention to empower blacks. But as long as inequity lingers in the system, you will spend significant time and energy finessing relationships with whites.
For Heritage Link, the issue is especially tough, because viticulture is hugely capital intensive. Consequently the majority of SABVA members are virtual wineries--brands that source their grapes and winemaking services from others (a common model in the United States as well). Those others are white-owned companies. In addition, some established white winemakers are mentoring black newcomers. Their involvement keeps the trains running more or less on time but doesn't always advance Cuffe's cause. "I would be mortified if at the end of the day I found out that I was just helping another white winery break into the U.S. market," she says.
So she is wary before a meeting with Ses'fikile ("We Have Arrived") Wines, a company started three years ago by two teachers and a school administrator from the townships. The founders are being mentored by the white-owned winery Flagstone; most of Cuffe's communication to date has been with Flagstone's leader, Bruce Jack. Cuffe worries that skill transference from Flagstone to Ses'fikile isn't happening fast enough and that Jack, an outsize presence, is essentially running the show. "They trust him, and he's proved himself trustworthy," says Cuffe before the meeting. "But they're using him as a crutch. It's like, if I don't like to drive and I'm afraid to drive, I'll always let somebody else drive instead of sucking it up and getting out there on the road."
Sure enough, the meeting, in the lounge of a boutique hotel on Cape Town's funky Long Street, doesn't start until Jack appears, more than half an hour late. Two of the founders are present; the third is off on a six-week internship with British retailer Marks & Spencer, an initiative Cuffe applauds. The founders, both women, sit in silence while Cuffe and Jack argue with cool intensity over sticking points in the importer's contract. Relaxed and jovial, Jack occasionally acknowledges his protégés. "Well, you will have to ask these ladies, but I think America is very important to us," he says. And, "I think our priorities are southern Africa, the U.K., and other. Ladies, tell me if you disagree." Apparently they do not.
Jack exits early. Alone with the founders, Cuffe presses them to do more. "I want at least one of you to be part of all conversations about the critical path schedule," she insists. "I want at least one of you to be in on all calls. I shouldn't be dealing with Bruce. I'm dealing with the three of you."
In a soft voice, Nondumiso Pikashe agrees. "The onus is on us," she says. "The business is ours, and we should take responsibility for the business." She and her partner, Jackie Bacela, drive off in a car with "Flagstone" printed on the rear window and "Ses'fikile" beneath it.
A less ambiguous example of empowerment is on display at Koopmanskloof, a 1,284-acre vineyard, wine cellar, and nature conservancy in Stellenbosch. Antique wine and olive oil presses occupy the yard where CEO Rydal Jeftha greets Cuffe before escorting her into a 200-year-old stone house. On a massive oak table polished to a warm glow, a miniature American flag pays tribute to her visit. A large brown frog has found its way inside and sits like a sentry on the damp floor outside the reception room.
