Mandela

by Anthony Sampson

  Mandela knew that Barnard was pursuing other ANC contacts. “We hear Thabo Mbeki is somebody who wants negotiations,” Barnard told him. “Have you any objection if we talk with him?” Mandela asked why that was necessary: “He is a young man, very able, very talented and very devoted; but if you are going to have a confidential discussion with him it will leak before he reports to his people and you can destroy him.” He preferred that Barnard should talk to Tambo himself. But Barnard went ahead with his contacts with Mbeki.36

  Mbeki thus became a key player in the intricate game. Mandela felt well able to trust him, having first watched him when he had organized students for the anti-Republic strike in 1961. Thabo had first learned politics from his father, Govan, and had escaped into exile, taken a degree in economics at Sussex University, done military training in the Soviet Union, and then worked closely with Tambo in Lusaka and London, developing into a masterly diplomat. He became adept at reassuring Afrikaners that he understood their problems: he learned, as he put it, “to start off from where they were.” He would drink with them, puffing his curved pipe, listening, sharing their jokes, understanding their history, gradually disarming their fears about black extremists. But he never lost sight of the ANC’s fixed objectives. When Mbeki began talking to Barnard’s friends, Mandela became aware that “he was very acute and reported to the organization. He was very correct.”37

  Barnard, on his side, soon learned more about Mbeki’s ideas from reports of the ANC’s meetings with Afrikaners in England arranged by Gold Fields—about which Professor Willie Esterhuyse of Stellenbosch University kept him informed, with the knowledge of the ANC. At the second meeting in Kent, Mbeki led the ANC team, while the Afrikaners were augmented by a constitutional expert and a businessman. Mbeki was surprised by the Afrikaners’ ignorance: he tried endlessly to reassure them that they would not be selling out their own people, and that Mandela’s release would unlock the door to peaceful talks.38 “Thabo ran rings around them,” Michael Young recalls. “It was quite embarrassing. The Afrikaners just hadn’t seen anyone like him: he moved in the international circles to which they aspired.” But the two sides came closer. The Afrikaners accepted that the ANC could not renounce violence unilaterally before they negotiated—the point which President Botha had refused to the eminent persons. And Mbeki assured them that when released the ANC leaders—including his father, Govan, who had just been let out—would restrain their followers from violence.39

  Inside South Africa the public knew nothing of the secret talks or the activities of the real Mandela, as opposed to the mythological demon, or hero. But his name was now creeping back into the headlines, and the ban on his photographs had been broken. Ancient photographs from the sixties had reemerged since 1986, when the Weekly Mail had challenged the law by reproducing one which had appeared in a government propaganda booklet.40

  Mandela’s international fame was enhanced by his seventieth birthday in July 1988. In London the BBC planned to televise a huge rock concert on June 11 called Freedom at 70 at Wembley Stadium, with star performers including Harry Belafonte, Whitney Houston, Roberta Flack and Stevie Wonder. Pretoria was so angry that it threatened to eject the BBC from South Africa altogether, and twenty-four British Tory MPs attacked the BBC for encouraging terrorists; the columnist and Tory peer Lord Wyatt wrote in the News of the World that Mandela and the ANC were trying to establish “a communist-style black dictatorship.”41 But the concert went ahead—with a smuggled message from Mandela—watched by 72,000 spectators and 200 million television viewers in sixty countries.42 “Has it struck you that apart from the birthday of the Lord Jesus,” Kathrada wrote from Pollsmoor to Paul Joseph, “no birthday has ever been as widely celebrated as Nelson’s 70th?”43 The South African Broadcasting Corporation commented that the campaign to glamorize Nelson Mandela had “descended to a new level of emotional silliness nurtured by ignorance.”44

  Even conservative South African newspapers were calling for Mandela’s release as the outbreaks of violence became more menacing. Just before his birthday, a powerful car bomb had exploded outside the Ellis Park rugby stadium in Johannesburg, killing two whites and injuring thirty-five.45 The Johannesburg Star warned that if he died in jail he would be canonized, while “Once he is freed the Mandela myth would be cut down to size by political realities.” Even the pro-government Afrikaner daily Beeld said there would never be a better time to release him: he had acquired a status larger than life, which he would find hard to keep up if he were released.46 The Minister of Information replied that the government could not see its way clear to release Mandela “at this stage,” and that no editor had the government’s intimate knowledge of the circumstances.47 Neither did the Minister, as it turned out.

  Black South Africans now saw Mandela more clearly as their lost leader waiting in the wings. Just after his birthday he was visited by Yusuf and Amina Cachalia, who had not seen him for twenty-six years. “He remembers everything and is alert as ever,” said Yusuf. “His health is good and he is as charismatic as ever.” “Nelson looks absolutely smashing,” said Amina publicly, “though he now has lots of gray hair on his head.” Privately she was more worried, for he looked lean and pale, and she missed his chubby cheeks. But she was convinced that “he had an inner strength which had taken over.” And he gave the Cachalias a message to his supporters: “I am very grateful to you all and have very great hope for the future.”48 A few days later he was visited by Dr. Mamphela Ramphele, the partner of the murdered black leader Steve Biko and mother of one of Biko’s two sons. She was amazed to see the warders defer to him, and was overwhelmed by his presence, “oozing authority and grace … his great social skills were in evidence at every turn—he put me at ease without patronising me.”49

  But Mandela was not well: he was coughing frequently, which he blamed on his damp cell. Three weeks after his birthday, on August 4, the four other Pollsmoor prisoners were allowed to spend a few hours with him. He was cheerful, full of news about old friends, and very sharp. “The lawyer in him is as keen, wise and dynamic as ever,” Kathrada wrote later. But Kathrada was concerned for the first time about Mandela’s health: “He coughed quite a bit, and his voice was just above a whisper.”50 Ismail Ayob was even more worried when Mandela suddenly vomited. He summoned the warder, Gregory, who arrived (he recalled) to find Mandela struggling to stand up, sweating and pointing to the mess on the floor which he wanted to clean up.51

  A few days later Mandela was visited by a doctor, who examined him briefly, after which he was driven, protected by a military convoy, to Tygerberg Hospital in Stellenbosch, where a whole floor had been cleared and surrounded by armed guards. He was examined by a genial young doctor who after a few tests assured him he was perfectly fit. But the next morning a gruff Professor de Kock appeared. He tapped Mandela’s chest, noticed that one side was larger than the other, and diagnosed water on the lung. He pushed a needle through Mandela’s ribs and drew out some brownish liquid. He then took him straight to the operating room under anesthetic, and removed still more fluid to clear the lungs. He found early signs of tuberculosis, which he thought had been partly caused by the damp conditions. Mandela stayed at Tygerberg for six weeks for recuperation and treatment under de Kock’s supervision. He was confident that he was “in the hands of an expert,” and by the time he left the hospital he saw de Kock as a close friend.52

  A medical bulletin gave minimal information, explaining that Mandela had “left-sided pleural effusion,” or fluid in the left lung, with no more details. The doctors described his condition as satisfactory. But Winnie, who arrived at the hospital with Ismail Ayob the next day, soon gave a more worrying account, blaming the prison for neglecting him. The speculation and anxiety were intense, and the government seemed alarmed. The Minister of Information saw no reason why they should keep Mandela in jail. The Minister of Justice, Coetsee, was “deeply perturbed,” and was giving it his “personal attention.” A Swiss professor of pneumology was rolled in, and
said that the chances of a complete recovery were excellent. The government clearly realized, said the London Sunday Times, that “the only thing worse than a free Mandela is a dead Mandela.”53

  Tambo in Lusaka made plans for Mandela’s imminent release; but the ANC suspected that President Botha had a hidden agenda, and their working committee discussed it at a key meeting in late November. They thought “the regime intended to trigger a political realignment and start off a sterile negotiations exercise in order to play for time.” Pretoria would pressurize the ANC to act “responsibly,” backed by Mrs. Thatcher, who planned to visit South Africa after Mandela was released, and who visualized the British as referees for a new constitutional formula.

  Tambo was especially worried about the role of Buthelezi. Mandela, after putting off Buthelezi’s visit in 1986, had sent messages that he wanted to talk to him. Tambo had opposed such a meeting, but realized that Mandela would want to see Buthelezi when he was released. “NM thinks he can mobilize people into our ranks,” Tambo told the working committee, “and he has been able to do so in the past.” He felt Mandela should be warned that Buthelezi was looking for acceptability before going his own way. “Buthelezi is power hungry and he would want to use NM for as long as it suits him.… Margaret Thatcher is astute enough,” Tambo added, “to realise that hostilities between ANC and Buthelezi would continue while NM is not there.”

  The ANC were determined to maintain their military power. They had to ensure that “the course of the struggle is not derailed by the release.” They considered organizing a rally in Soweto, “associated with explosions all over the place,” and saw a need to plan for “a sustained insurrectionary situation.” Mandela must defy any restrictions. “The armed struggle would have to be stepped up even before NM goes out,” said Tambo, “so that there is no question of his release being conditional on renouncing armed struggle.” Mandela, the working committee concluded, must set out a clear program of action, in consultation with the leadership: “Unanimity of views between him and the movement as a whole is of crucial importance.” There should be a tremendous nationwide welcome upon his release, with clear slogans like “Welcome back people’s leader!”54

  But the prisoners in Pollsmoor were still skeptical about the likelihood of their release. “Based on past experience there is no reason for optimism,” Kathrada told his friend J. N. Singh on September 16.55 And Mandela in hospital soon realized that the government had different plans. After six weeks at Tygerberg he was moved to the still more comfortable Constantiaberg Clinic, the only black patient in an expensive all-white establishment. He was very well cared for, and was admired by the white and Coloured nurses, who even managed to give a party in his room. Some of them kept in touch with him afterward. “Dear Mr. M,” wrote Fiona Duncan, reminding him, “no hamburgers, pizzas or chocolate mousse!”56

  But at Constantiaberg, Mandela realized that he would not be set free. Kobie Coetsee visited him on his first day, after which Barnard and the Team resumed their meetings with him. Coetsee explained that he would now move Mandela to yet another prison, where he would be “in a halfway house between prison and freedom.”57 He was entering a strange limbo, on the edge of events and yet in the center, knowing that he held the future peace of the country in his hands.

  26

  “Something Horribly Wrong”

  1987–1989

  IN THE midst of his political negotiations, Mandela was being faced with more insoluble problems by his wife, Winnie, who was still further out of control. The “she-elephant” now appeared to be taking ungovernability to its extremes, involving herself in outbreaks of violence and murder which gave a nightmare picture of an alternative South Africa. Her wild behavior would precipitate a political crisis which would soon involve the ANC leaders both inside and outside the country.

  Mandela had a glimpse of Winnie’s financial irresponsibility just after his birthday in July 1988, when she made a deal with a plausible American entrepreneur, Robert Brown—who had links with Boston University—to exploit the Mandela name, giving him, as his press release stated: “full power of attorney for the Mandela family worldwide.” Brown had visited Mandela in Pollsmoor with Winnie on July 22, but Mandela had been warned from London to steer clear of him. He firmly rejected the agreement with Winnie and told Brown to deal only with Tambo, his “closest friend and colleague.”1

  Mandela faced a more fundamental problem with Winnie’s violence, which was harder to face up to. In Soweto Winnie saw herself on the front line of the battlefield of the armed struggle, with her house as a stronghold. The township was coming close to civil war as young people took up weapons. As Azhar Cachalia, the Treasurer of the UDF, later described the problem: “By mid-1985 thousands of unaffiliated youths lacking direction or cohesion, many of them badly affected by their experience of detention, saw themselves as soldiers in the liberation struggle.” They formed their own armed gangs, staking out territories and fiefdoms and no-go areas. Many gangs claimed to be linked to the armed struggle and MK, but the UDF leaders, undermined by mass arrests and detentions, could not control them. As Cachalia said: “Our linkages with youth groups in particular became tenuous.”2 And the police clearly had their own agenda. They had penetrated some gangs with informers and agents provocateurs, playing them against each other, provoking suspicion, betrayal and reprisals, while not intervening against Winnie.3

  The ANC leaders were anxiously watching Winnie, who since her return from Brandfort seemed even fiercer and more reckless. She had become still more militant since her “necklace” speech in April 1986, pursuing her own campaigns against the government. She depicted herself as a guerrilla soldier, sometimes in uniform, harboring MK refugees from the north and claiming to take orders from Chris Hani, who was leading MK beyond South Africa’s borders.4 She saw acts of violence as necessary for the battlefield. “The woman clearly thought she was fighting a war,” said Helen Suzman, who still admired her total courage.5

  The local leaders had given up trying to discipline Winnie, or to keep her within the structures of their organization. Nine years later, the Truth Commission would partly blame them for “not bringing her into the fold or disciplining her when things were beginning to go wrong.”6 But she was hard to discipline, and she had powerful friends.

  Her friends had warned her to protect herself, and from 1987 she surrounded herself with a gang of boys, called the Mandela United Football Club, who lived in the back of her house, which they called “Lusaka,” or “Parliament.”7 Visitors would see gangs running in and out of the front rooms in footballers’ tracksuits. At first they appeared to be genuinely defending Winnie against violent rivals. “When they started the Football Club everyone admired them. I did too, we all loved Winnie,” said her neighbor Mrs. Dlamini. “She used to be a mother, she used to be a loving person,” said Nicodemus Sono. “You will go to Winnie with your grievances: she will help you if she can.”8 But her neighbors soon suspected that the Football Club was terrorizing other Sowetans more than the police: its members had menacing names like Ninja, Killer, Scorpion and Slash, and they often carried guns. Football seemed peripheral: their “coach,” Jerry Richardson, had recently left jail, where (it was later revealed) the police had paid him R10,000 to become an informer, and several members were later sentenced for murder or kidnapping. Mandela in jail had been warned about the existence of Winnie’s dangerous club, and had said that it should be disbanded.9 But it was not. The Football Club was one of many gangs of vigilantes that had grown up in South Africa, but it was one of the most lethal.

  Already in early 1987 the back room of Winnie’s house was associated with gruesome stories of torture and murders, which neighbors linked to Winnie and the Football Club. And it was clear, as the Truth Commission reported, that “the chaos emanating from the Mandelas’ backyard had useful political ramifications for the police, as it created a discord within the liberation movement that the authorities themselves had never been able to achieve.”10
Winnie, after all her earlier persecution by the police, now seemed to have little trouble from them as she and her gang drove around Soweto in her minibus with apparent immunity. “We were running away, struggling to keep our organisations alive,” said Cachalia, “and Mrs. Mandela was driving this Kombi around Soweto. Yes, it was strange.”11

  By 1988 the Football Club was engaged in a turf war with a rival gang from the neighboring Daliwonga High School. After fights, beatings and rape, a mob of Daliwonga supporters with gasoline cans descended on the Mandela house in July 1988 and set it on fire. The police and fire brigade stood by and watched. Winnie arrived distraught to see her home destroyed, along with the family papers, letters and a slice of cake from her wedding. The young church leader Frank Chikane, who was at the scene, worried about a further eruption of violence. He summoned a group of leaders, including Cyril Ramaphosa, Sydney Mufamadi, Aubrey Mokoena, Sister Bernard Ncube and the Reverend Beyers Naude, who became known as the Mandela Crisis Committee. They suspected that a sinister “third force” was behind the house burning, trying to distract the community from the liberation struggle by dividing it.12 But their first aim was to get Winnie to disband the Football Club.